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Saturday,
October 04, 2003
In which I am terrorized by an enormous evil version of the Swedish Chef, except he did not say "Bork" Today is Katia's birthday. Happy Birthday, Katia! So we decided to have a literary day, then go get cheeseburgers. Unfortunately, this did not work out as planned. We meant to meet on the Kazansky Bridge at 10:30, but in a strange turn of events, I was not the one who was late. Katia had an uncharacteristic catastrophic alarm clock failure, and did not arrive until 11:30. It was okay, because Kait and I told one another our crazy stories about Russia (despite the fact that we spend a large chunk of the day together, somehow we still seem to have adventures by ourselves. Russia is a land of adventure!) and it would have been actually nice, except that it was cold and drizzling. By the time we got to the Pushkin House, my evil Russian mutant tracheal bronchitis had taken advantage of the nasty weather, and was making me pretty miserable. But we declaimed Pushkin poetry in front of the Pushkin statue, and that made me feel much better. I did the opening to The Bronze Horseman, complete with hand gestures, in an excessively loud voice, but reciting poetry in public is apparently normal in Russia, so I didn't even get many weird looks. We bought tickets to go in the museum, but Katia realized that she had to be at the university for a meeting, and it was getting really close to my doctor's appointment, so she and Kait headed back to Nevskii and I did a quick tour of the museum. It was like Mecca. They had Pushkin's furniture and correspondence and his little statue of an African guy that he always kept on his desk. And his library! Pushkin had The Library. Jessica and I used to plan out the idea library - big fireplace, bookshelves filled with smelly leather books, battered wingback chair, floppy dog...Pushkin didn't have a fireplace in his library, and if there was ever a floppy dog, it is dead, but besides that, it was almost exactly my vision of the ideal home library. So, clearly Pushkin and I are soulmates. But it was also sad, because this is the house where Pushkin died after getting himself shot in a duel. They had his death mask, and the clothes he was wearing when he got shot, which was not creepy so much as depressing. Poor Pushkin. They also had the letter that humiliated him enough that he got involved in the duel. I don't know that I would have started a duel over it, but then again, I am not a hot-blooded poet, I'm a passive-aggressive journalist. Because Russia is crazy, the tour consisted of about four soppy-looking young women (myself included) and about 8 punk-lookin' teenage boys, who in the US would probably be sitting in a basement playing Quake or cooking up meth, but here were sadly listening to the story of Pushkin's death. Crazy! I left at about 1:00 pm. Apparently at some point in the next half-hour, a disaster occurred, because when Katia and Kait came back, the place was sealed with police tape. No explanation was forthcoming, Katia reports. Maybe someone stole Pushkin's bloody shirt. While I was there, I geeked out entirely and bought a little framed portrait of Pushkin. Oh, it was only like $2. I felt really goofy buying it, until the lady told me, "This is the last one of this kind! And I'm down to six Pushkins total!" So I'm still a dork, but I have dorky brethren. I'm going to put it on my bookshelf with my family pictures when I get home. On my way to my doctor's appointment, I saw the scariest thing in all Russia. 
I've seen It a few times before, prowling the streets. I don't know what It is. It twirls the sausage links like numchucks, and wields the frying pan threateningly. This isn't a very good picture, because I took it while running away in fear. See the woman in front of the Thing? She's using the common Russian method of escape, which is "pretend I don't see the horrible thing and walk away very quickly, avoiding police officers and trying to blend in." She's not succeeding, because she is terrified. It's that scary. But the really exciting news of the day is that I figured out how to make the internet work at home with my laptop! No more shelling out exorbitant amounts of money to use the internet cafes! No more toting data back and forth on CD! And, probably, no more sleeping at night. When looking for an internet card, I also ended up buying two more Lemony Snicket books in Russian and a copy of Kurt Vonnegut's Timequake in English. I have no willpower. - declared by Liusia @ 4:28 PM Friday,
October 03, 2003
In which I get a sort of a job offer, and miss Lenin Today at two, I tried to go to the press conference. I sucessfully navigated the maze, but when I got there, a sweet little old lady informed me that the press conference just got finished. So, confused, I went to the office and asked. "Oh, it was moved up to 12:45," Olga said. "You should have gotten an email." Dur, I thought. I bet that was the email that I just got, filled with question marks and squiggly lines, because my email program doesn't read Cyrillic. But it doesn't matter! Because while I was there, the head editor of the St. Petersburg Times (the English language newspaper) was also there! He was checking some data CDs out of the media library or something, and complaining to Chris the Librarian about how understaffed he was, and how he couldn't bring in any salaried native English speakers from the US or Britain because the Russian goverment was holding up his paperwork. So like the forward little pain in the ass that I am, I budged up and introduced myself, and asked if he perhaps needed a gofer. He grilled me for about ten minutes about my job qualifications, and how well I spoke Russian, and whether I had the AP Stylebook memorized (I do.) Then he said, "Well, I wanted to start a new column profiling important people around the city. Also, I don't know if you would like to copyedit...you probably think it's boring -" "I'm an enormous dork," I interrupted, because I am very rude. "I copyedit things for fun. I write all over my newspapers in red pen." "We can't start paying you immediately, but possibly soon..." "I'm here on a student visa. I can't perform paid labor anyway," I admitted. The idea of actually bringing in an income was hugely tempting, but not worth the risk of losing my visa. So, to make a boring story that is only exciting to me short, I start on Monday. I'm coming in after classes to help them get the Tuesday paper out. So thrilling! I love getting the paper out! I get to proofread things and play with computers! And then we're going to talk about me actually writing actual articles! And not to count my eggs, etc., but this could be a really productive experience. Huzzah! From there, I hopped the metro to go teach my English class. When I got out of the metro, I found myself standing by a two story tall statue of Lenin. At this point I said to myself, surely I am lost, for I did not see a giant Lenin the last time I was here. So I found a payphone and called the school, and asked for directions. And I was told to walk past the giant Lenin! Do you know what this means? It means that last week, I walked past a two story tall Lenin without noticing. I am truly becoming acclimated to Russia. The class was bizarre, because the kids, despite being about sixteen years old, sat quietly and listened to everything that I said, and answered politely and intelligently. It was freakish. Clearly, Russian schools are doing something right. Like putting tranquilizers in the drinking fountains. Next week, I want to do the thing where you play a song and the students have to fill in the lyrics. I'm thinkin' it would probably be appropriate to make the song related to the day's topic somehow. So can anyone think of a song with lyrics featuring household goods, appliances and/or realtors? Yeah, that's what I thought. It's impossible. - declared by Liusia @ 2:20 PM Thursday,
October 02, 2003
In which the lunchtime routine is disturbed Today we went to Cafe Laima for lunch, like usual. But the entire waitstaff had been replaced by different young women, and they were wearing blue uniforms instead of yellow. The ones not actively working stood in a neat row behind the counter, waiting pertly and silently for potential customers. Clearly, Cafe Laima has just held a Stalin-esque purge. It was pretty creepy. And the food wasn't any better. - declared by Liusia @ 5:51 AM Wednesday,
October 01, 2003
In which the master steals our toilet, and Laddie saves the day Yesterday when I left home, the master had started work on the new toilet. (Russians call the plumber the "master." I think that is one of the more beautiful things I have heard in this life. Contemplate it for a moment. It respects not only his learning, but his control of the elements! The Master! He can control the flow of water!) See, Sonya had finally gotten fed up with our evil old toilet, because sometimes, when you flush, the flusher thing comes off in your hand. Also, sometimes it gets mad and squirts water at you. So she went out and bought a new one. Then she called Aleksandr Nickolaevitch, the Master. She used her sway as the building accountant to make him come right away. So, the Master came early this morning. Sonya introduced me as her "foreign guest" and when he asked where I was from, she said "Ireland" but he totally saw through the lie because he glared at me anyway. Or maybe the IRA blew up his grandma while she was vacationing in London. Maybe he just hates shamrocks. Who knows? Anyway, I left when he was just starting to work. But when I came home, I was informed of the bad news. The Master stole the toilet. He took the old one out. Then he took all the tiles out of the bathroom. Then, he left. The reason is unclear. So now we have a new toilet sitting in the hallway, not connected to any source of water, like a really fancy chamber pot. Sonya suggested that I, being a "self-sufficient American," might know how to install the toilet. Once I had stopped cackling, I declined her offer. "But it's okay," she said. "We can use the neighbor's bathroom. I have the keys." Me: That's convenient. Sonya: Yep. Would you like to go over there now? Me: Not really. Sonya: Are you sure? Me: Yes. Sonya: Really really sure? Me: Um, yes? Sonya: Because I'm going over there, and I'm scared. Me: Why are you scared? Sonya: I'll tell you later. So, we went next door. Now, when she said "neighbor," I assumed she meant the neighbor on the left, where people actually live. But no, we went in the apartment on the right. The first thing that I noticed was that it was in terrible condition: cracked plaster, exposed pipes, soft spots in the flooring. Now, I am a little bit spoiled, since Sonya and Tolio seem to be part of the rare Russian middle class, the kind of people who aren't wealthy but can, say, up and buy a toilet when they feel like it. Their apartment is cheery and well-maintained. But this neighboring apartment was a serious rathole. The second thing that I noticed was that the place was clearly previously inhabited, but abandoned. While Sonya was in the bathroom, I wandered around. The calendar was out of date; the place was fully furnished, but the kitchen table and the sofas were dusty; there was a bottle of detergent by the sink, but the sponges were dry and shrivilled. Then, it all became clear: I saw a photo of a twenty-something guy propped up, with a glass of vodka capped with a piece of black bread standing in front of it. We returned to Sonya's apartment. Sonya: (sigh) Okay, I'll tell you what happened. Me: I think I know. Did someone die there? Sonya: Whoa. Yes! Me: A young man? Sonya: You're like a detective! Note: Sonya is always irrationally impressed when I manage to figure simple things out. When I demonstrated mastery of the remote control, she gave me a hug. Me: What happened? Sonya: He was depressed. About a month ago, he drank himself to death. Me: (inarticulate sad noise) Sonya: You weren't scared? Me: I figure, if ghosts are real, then exorcisms are real too. Then, she went for a walk, leaving me home alone. This gave me the rare opportunity to watch something on TV other than the news or a soap opera. I settled on Kommissar Rex, which is about the best TV show ever. It's a German (I think) police drama featuring a really brilliant dog! Like this one time, the policewoman was trying to open a door, but inside, there was a crazy contraption of a gun rigged with wires and string to shoot at the door whenever it was opened! But Rex snuck around and jumped in the window and, from the inside, with his mouth, held the doorknob from opening, so she couldn't let herself in and get shot! So Rex prevented her from dying, until her male partner arrived and saved her from her stupid female cop folly by opening the door while standing off to the side or some such cleverness. The moral of the story is that if you are a dumb female, you had better have a German Shephard to make up for your lamentable lack of a Y-chromosome. I don't know how the episode ended, because Sonya came home and declared it "too violent for Liusia" and turned on the news, where they showed footage lots of bloody dead people in Chechnya. Other excellent Russian TV shows include the Russian equivalent of Wheel of Fortune. It's pretty much the same thing as US Wheel of Fortune, except in the Russian version, the contestants bring the host bribes, and if the bribes are good, he gives them hints to help them solve the puzzle. The girl who brought him a nice belt and then helped him put it on all suggestively got a really good hint. I also saw Who Wants to be a Millionaire the other day. Except it's a million roubles, so it's really not as good. And we don't have a toilet. - declared by Liusia @ 11:28 PM In which I accomplish nothing Yeah, so, the press conference didn't happen today. It was rescheduled. I called the office this morning to double-check the time, and the person who answered the phone told me that the conference was Thursday, but I figured that given my previous phone experience calling them, and the fact that my Russian is still pretty sketchy, I should probably go anyway just in case. Yeah, so, it turns out that the building is basically a maze. I bet there is a minotaur in there somewhere, or possibly Jack Nicholson wielding an axe. (Side note: I found the building's carpeting to be the creepiest thing about The Shining.) After asking about five people for directions, all of whom gave me different instructions or were lost themselves, I turned a corner randomly ran into Olga, the girl with whom I did the original interview. She was like, "hey, whassup? Come back on Friday. We rescheduled. By the way, do you know how to get out of here?" So now the press conference I'm supposed to go to is on Friday at 2:00, which is less than convenient, as I have class until three. But now I probably won't be going to class, what with the not being able to breathe and all, so I guess I'll be free. I decided that as long as I'm probably going to suffocate here eventually, I might as well enjoy some creature comforts while I'm still alive. So I stopped in at the Dom Knigi ("House of Book") and went to their foreign-language-learning section. In the foreign language learning section, they have not only books on German, English and French, but books in German, English and French. Since I was feeling morbid, I bought a collection of Poe short stories and a book by Ambrose Bierce. Then, I headed over to the Republic of Coffee, which is the Russian rip-off of Starbucks. The logo even looks almost exactly the same. I ordered hot chocolate. Dude, when Russians say "hot chocolate," they're not kidding. It turned out to be a coffee cup filled with liquified chocolate. Had I let it cool, it would have turned into a candy bar. And now I'm on my way home. Oh, what an exciting globe-trotting life I lead! - declared by Liusia @ 9:24 AM Tuesday,
September 30, 2003
In which the evil spreads I will be lucky to survive this study abroad, I think. So, I went back to the doctor, and it turns out that the bronchitis has given me an inflamed trachea. An inflamed trachea! Who the hell does that happen to?! So basically, I hurt. And I'm more pissed off at Peter the Great than ever. In other news, the St. Petersburg Times lady emailed me, and wants to give me a job, and is more than willing to not pay me for it (heh.) Huzzah! Russian Weirdness of the Day: This will not be very amusing if you can't read Russian, but it cracked me up. It's an Orc-Russian Russian-Orc dictionary, based on Tolkien, of course. This just proves that nerdiness is the international language! - declared by Liusia @ 3:04 PM In which I go to the opera My internship is going to be cool, I think. So, I went yesterday, and surprisingly, they were actually expecting me, despite that fiasco over the phone. I'll be going to a press conference tomorrow afternoon, and I'm supposed to take notes on it in English. I'm not sure what is going to be done with those notes, but...you know what? I'm not going to ask. I was also introduced to the press library guy, Chris, who is also an American. It was, admittedly, nice to speak English. He apologized, because computer time there is pretty tight, and I was like, wait, what kind of 'net connection do you have? It turns out that they have an ethernet hub, so I can bring in my own laptop and plug it in. This is sweet, because it means I can do my work on my own non-evil, non-file-eating computer. Also, free internet. Huzzah! It's for work, but still. He also suggested that I contact the St. Petersburg Times, the local English-language newspaper, saying that they are looking for journalists. Unfortunately, according to the terms of my student visa, I can't be paid for anything, but it would be cool to do some writing for them for free and get the experience. I emailed the hiring chica - we'll see what happens. After I left, I met up with Katia and Kait, and we got Pizza Hut for dinner. So far I've pretty much avoided the McDonalds, but the Pizza Hut just calls my name every once in a while. Mmmm, greasy horrible deep-dish. With pepperoni! There is going to be a Subway opening on Nevskii soon, and then I'm really going to be in trouble. I like Russian food, but sometimes a sandwich is just NECESSARY. And not one of those freaky open-faced things with cucumbers and stuff, either. Then, we went to the opera! It's my first time actually going to an actual opera - I've listened to a lot of opera music, but not watched it performed in a proper opera context. We saw Yevgeny Onegin, and it was awesome. I really enjoyed the guy who played Lensky. He was a cute little chubby guy with an enormous voice, and amusing overacting. Onegin was appropriately world-weary, and Natalya was all the lovely ingenue. The best scene, though, was this random one in the middle at Natalya's birthday party, where a guy wearing a bright pink suit and dwarf boots (you know, like from Snow White?) did a crazy Cossack dance and sang a stupid song that was half in German, and half in French. The duel scene made me giggle, because Lensky was singing all dramatically, heartwrenchingly, gesturing to the audience and looking like he was going to cry, and Onegin was sprawled in a chair, a vision of ennui, boredly waiting for Lensky to finish his histrionics. I half expected him to shoot Lensky midway through the song without going through the proper duel procedure, just to the the thing over with. Heh. I like opera lyrics. Granted, I couldn't understand them half the time, because a)people are warbling away and b)they're speaking Russian, but it seemed to be half actual quotes from the poem Yevgeny Onegin and half dumbness. For example: Lensky: long, dramatic, literary song about his deep pain, challenging Onegin to a duel Onegin: This is nonsense. I'm bored. Lensky: more lovely drama Onegin: Oh, shut up. Hee, hee, hee. - declared by Liusia @ 6:14 AM In which I feel homesick for the weirdness that is Wisconsin, despite the fact that I am enjoying the weirdness that is Russia Fire in fraternity reveals secret room And all this time there were secret cabalistic rites going on at the University of Wisconsin! Who knew? - declared by Liusia @ 5:43 AM Monday,
September 29, 2003
In which the US government continues its, um, "War on Terror" So, I just got a scary email. Apparently, the US government has decided that us crazy ex-pats, not being regularly exposed to the scary press conferences and speeches frequently played on television, or the constant Homeland Security Advisory System updates (current threat status: elevated!), needed a little bit of shaking up, so they sent out this email. Please, do peruse: St. Petersburg, Russia September 29, 2003 This is a warden message for all American citizens. Please distribute it to your American friends and colleagues. If you are a Warden, please notify your warden group members who do not have e-mail. If you need emergency assistance, please contact us by e-mail at acsstpete@state.gov, by fax at 7-812-331-2646 or phone us at 7- 812- 331-2600. PUBLIC ANNOUNCEMENT - WORLDWIDE CAUTION This supersedes the Worldwide Caution dated September 10, 2003. It is being issued to remind U.S. citizens of the continuing threat that they may be a target of terrorist actions, even after the anniversary date of the September 11 attacks, and to add the potential for threats to maritime interests. This Worldwide Caution expires on February 25, 2004. The U.S. Government remains deeply concerned about the security of U.S. citizens overseas. U.S. citizens are cautioned to maintain a high level of vigilance, to remain alert and to take appropriate steps to increase their security awareness. We are seeing increasing indications that Al-Qaida is preparing to strike U.S. interests abroad. Looking at the last few months, Al-Qaida and its associated organizations have struck in the Middle East in Riyadh, in North Africa in Casablanca, and in East Asia in Indonesia. We therefore assess that other geographic locations could be venues for the next round of attacks. We expect Al-Qaida will strive for new attacks that will be more devastating than the September 11 attack, possibly involving nonconventional weapons such as chemical or biological agents. We also cannot rule out the potential for Al-Qaida to attempt a second catastrophic attack within the U.S. Terrorist actions may include, but are not limited to, suicide operations, hijackings, bombings or kidnappings. These may also involve commercial aircraft and maritime interests, and threats to include conventional weapons, such as explosive devices. Terrorists do not distinguish between official and civilian targets. These may include facilities where American citizens and other foreigners congregate or visit, including residential areas, clubs, restaurants, places of worship, schools, hotels, outdoor recreation events or resorts and beaches. U.S. citizens should remain in a heightened state of personal security awareness when attendance at such locations is unavoidable. U.S. Government facilities worldwide remain at a heightened state of alert. These facilities may temporarily close or suspend public services from time to time to assess their security posture. In those instances, U.S. embassies and consulates will make every effort to provide emergency services to U.S. citizens. Americans abroad are urged to monitor the local news and maintain contact with the nearest American embassy or consulate. As the Department continues to develop information on any potential security threats to U.S. citizens overseas, it shares credible threat information through its consular information program documents, available on the Internet at http://travel.state.gov. In addition to information on the Internet, U.S. travelers may obtain up-to-date information on security conditions by calling 1-888-407- 4747 toll-free in the U.S. or outside the U.S. and Canada on a regular toll line at 1-317-472-2328. So, basically, terrorists could get us at any time. Thanks for that news flash, US government. Next time I'm in one of the "facilities where American citizens and other foreigners congregate or visit, including residential areas, clubs, restaurants, places of worship, schools, hotels, outdoor recreation events or resorts and beaches," I'll keep an eye out for any shifty swarthy types. (That was sarcasm, by the way.) Don't go out to eat, Americans! Al-Qaida will get you! I wonder if trying to terrify people is really the way to "win the war on terror?" - declared by Liusia @ 8:33 AM Sunday,
September 28, 2003
More Russian Street Sign Madness In this post, I talked about the craziness that is the Russian street sign. Saturday's walk provided several more examples of street sign weirdness. I do not know exactly what this sign is telling people to do. On the one hand, the red X would seem to mean "do not enter." But on the other hand, it seems to be saying that you can park your cars there, if you park them with the bumper touching the curb. A paradox. Also, I can't read the middle word in the bottommost sign, and I don't remember what it said, but I think the first line says "automobile" and the last line says "of the president of the Russian Federation," so there is another thing to wonder about. Perhaps the combination of signs means Do Not Enter Unless You Are Putin? 
Then, you have this. This sign seems to be saying "Don't Be Rectangular," or possibly, "Thin People Not Allowed to Cross the Street." 
Then you have this photo, which Katia took, the real piece de resistance. She saw it stuck on the back of a bus. The text underneat means, "Keep your distance." She theorizes that the skull in a wheelchair represents what will happen to you if you do not, in fact, keep your distance. 
I love this country. - declared by Liusia @ 10:31 AM In which I see stuff. Huzzah! So, yesterday I met up with Kait and Katia for an excursion. The plan: to see stuff. We are very deep, intellectual people, you know. I really do not understand. All over the city, there are these girls on horseback. Every day, I see girls running around on horseback. They don't seem to be giving rides for money, and they definitely aren't mounted police. They're just...riding around. Where do they keep the horses? Anyway, this picture is kind of amusing, because it shows a bunch of people using horses for transportation...in front of a metro entrance. 
We decided to head north and look at stuff on that side of town. Now, at this point, I have taken about ten thousand pictures of the Church on the Spilled Blood, because it is just about the most impressive building I have ever seen, but because this is my narcissistic blog, I'm posting this picture because I like it. Also, I took it while standing on the grass, which meant that I had to run away from a police officer after I was done taking the photo. Apparently it is okay to drink alcohol in the street here, but not okay to stand on the grass. 
We soon reached the Field of Mars. There, there is an "Eternal Flame" that is kind of an all-purpose memorial to anyone who has died in a Russian war. But when we got there, the flame was out. 
So of course I had to take a picture of the Eternal Flame not flaming. And as I was leaving, a rather official-looking guy came up, and asked, "Are you taking a picture?" Since I was obviously taking a picture, I said, "yes." And he said, "Okay. Your documents?" I thought, "oh, Jesus," and went to dig out my passport. And then he started laughing and patted me on the back. "Just kidding, just kidding. Have a nice day." And I was like, "thanks, dick," but I just thought it instead of saying it, because you can probably get some kind of a fine for calling a policeman a dick. Then, we went to see the Chizhik Pyzhik, which is pronounced something like "Cheese-ick Peeze-ick." Unlike many funny-sounding Russian terms, this one is funny-sounding on purpose. The Chizhik Pyzhik is a tiny little bronze bird, stuck on a ledge halfway down the inside of the canal across from the Engineering Palace. The name means "little drinking bird," and it's from a song about the drinking habits of the engineering students. According to the Lonely Planet Petersburg book, f you drop coins on the Chizhik Pyzhik and they hit the bird then sit on the ledge, you can have a wish granted. (For example, "I wish I would pass my next engineering school exam, despite the fact that I went on a drunken binge instead of studying.") But Anton says that the book it wrong, and dropping coins on the Pyzhik just means you'll return to Petersburg. So there is a difference of opinion about the Pyzhik. But I think everyone can agree that "Chizhik Pyzhik" is a really goofy name. Katia says that people often fish for the coins, and if there aren't enough coins, they sometimes get pissed off and steal the Pyzhik. Heh. Sha, when you come to visit, do you want to try to swipe it? I managed to get a 2 rouble coin to stay by the Pyzhik. Then a boat full of tourists came down the canal, and started pitching coins at the Pyzhik (and us, of course, who were standing on the side of the canal.) Scarier than it sounds, my friends. 
Then we went to the Summer Garden again, because Katia still wanted to see it. Inside, Peter the Great's house was open to the public, and we toured it. It was really cute. Peter the Great lived pretty humbly, really - the house was only two floors, probably about 10 rooms, and they had barely any gilt or marble, just lots of nifty gadgets, like a giant barometer. Also, being the progressive advanced guy he was, he had a toilet. Kait has a historical crush on Peter, so I took her picture standing next to Peter's toilet. For some reason, the fence around the Summer Garden consists of medallions of Medusa with a knife stuck in her head. Hmm. 
We headed across the Neva, with the goal of seeing Peter's little cabin that he built all by himself to live in while Petersburg was first being constructed. The cabin was closed, so we only saw the outside, but we ended up seeing some other stuff. For example, there was a park with a big rock in it. 
The big rock was labelled "Prisoners of the Gulag" on one side, and something to the effect of "victims of Communist terror" on the other. I don't think it's a very good monument, though. I mean, the rock isn't even that big - it's about the size of a really big cow. Then we walked past the Blue Mosque, cleverly named, as it is bright blue, and a mosque. It is extremely pretty. Kait declared it "the coolest thing I've ever seen! Today." Apparently you can get inside if even if you are not Muslim, if you are dressed appropriately and manage to convince the door guy that you are a student of Islamic architecture or something. But I was wearing pants and had loose hair, and the word "minaret" is the extent of my Islamic architectural knowledge, so I decided it's probably best not to try. 
Our troika next took the metro to St. Issac's Cathedral. We pretended to be Russians, so as to get the Russian price instead of the dirty foreigner price. Russian ticket sellers are tricky. For example, here is a sign that says "Entrance to the Museum" in Russian on top, and then "Entrance to the Museum" in English directly below, with the arrow pointing the opposite direction. This is so they can weed out the dirty foreigners, at least the ones that don't read Russian. 
This is a picture of the roof over the entrance. It doesn't really have any significance, except that it shows of my breathtaking photography skillz. Whooo. 
The interior was so stunning that when I was looking up I literally almost fell over, because I was so distracted by the beauty that my brain forgot all about my inner ear balancing organs. My favorite thing about it, though, was relatively tiny - at the center of the main dome, there is a circular opening in the middle of the mural, revealing a sparkling silver dove hanging from the very apex above. 
So all in all, the walk was totally worth all the smog I had to inhale whilst walking. Huzzah! - declared by Liusia @ 9:28 AM
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