Ya'll Ready for This??

A Not-So-Brief Summary of the Last Couple Weeks

I’m here, I’m alive, and I have finally seen sights that aren’t only within the limits of Moscow. Unfortunately, I’m just tragically exhausted still and therefore my writing skills are a little sub-par for today. The power of blogging compels me, though, to at least attempt to make some sense of what I’ve seen and done for the past few weeks because if I don’t now I’m afraid that I never will. And that would be a tragedy for everyone.

I shall start with Thursday, October 7^th. On that clear autumn night, Hana and I boarded our train to St. Petersburg. In an effort to save time and omit some unnecessary details, I will describe the evening in a few short bullet points:

·         Arrive at train station very early

·         Sit on luggage and people-watch for a while

·         Finally decide to figure out where our train is

·         Can’t find train

·         Ask for help

·         20 minutes before train leaves, figure out that station is not where we are

·         Frantically (me, as I am my father’s daughter when it comes to arriving in a timely manner) try to locate train station

·         Locate train station. Discover that it is the most obviously train station-esque building in the world

·         Board train

·         Laugh at our good fortune, panic when we realize we are going to be on a train for 9 hours and have very little in the way of food

·         Depart station

·         Drink tea out of the COOLEST mugs ever. Calm down about food situation

·         “Sleep” (Find that sleeping in a chair on a train is only slightly less comfortable than sleeping on an airplane, and far more drafty)

·         Make the discovery that perhaps the bathrooms in the cheapest trains available are not the most aesthetically pleasing things in the world

·         Arrive in St. Petersburg slap-happy, tired, cold and hungry

This brings us to Friday, because the train arrived in St. Petersburg at roughly 6:45 AM. We bought some juice from a stand and made our way to our hostel, which we presumed would be open and waiting for us with open arms. (Ok, that’s a total lie. I may be an optimist, but I’ve learned that when it comes to arms in Russia, it is best to assume that they will be folded and generally accompanied by a questioning and skeptical expression).

The bottom line is, the hostel was not open. I think that’s when our slap-happiness ended and annoyance began. We walked around for 20 minutes aimlessly trying to determine our plan of action. Eventually, we stumbled upon a too-expensive internet café which was surprisingly accommodating in that they allowed us to sit, expressionlessly watching music videos and watching the sky light up slowly and mockingly. At about 7:45 we left, finding a Russian KFC (which bears the same logo but goes under a different name) and engaging with a ridiculously friendly cashier. Seriously. She gave us a free drink and by the time we left I wanted her to be my best friend and I actually felt sort of alive, so we walked back to the hostel and met Ilya, who told us that we couldn’t check in until 1:00 but we could drop our things off, shower, have tea, and relax until then. It was at this point I realized that staying at Soul Kitchen hostel was the best decision EVER.

The only picture I managed to take of our hostel

Being the fool-hardy and adventurous people that we are, though, Hana and I elected not to sleep nor relax, and after finding some interesting places in the guidebook we set off to walk down the main street in St. Petersburg, Nevsky Prospekt. Invigorated by the fresh air and the greasy chicken from KFC, we briskly walked for about an hour, stopping to take pictures of the buildings of which we did not know the names, but that could not NOT be photographed. The architecture in St. Petersburg is absolutely glorious, and all of the things I’ve heard about it being far more “Western European” than Moscow is absolutely true. It wasn’t only the architecture, but the more intangible qualities of the city; the people, the atmosphere, the feeling, even. If Paris and Moscow had a child, I think it might look something like St. Petersburg. Maybe that’s a bad example…

Just your typical street in St. Petersburg. I took it because
of the band name on the sign..."Mummy Troll"

Unnamed important building

So on we trekked, doubting whether we were going in the right direction until eventually we saw a HUGE square filled with…nothing. There was only sidewalk, and in the center a gigantic statue (of whom I do not know). On one side of the square stood the Hermitage:

The square of nothing

Proof that trees exist in St. Petersburg!

The Hermitage! Up close, because from
far away you can't see the colors

Through the gates

            We went in (it’s free for students!) and walked around for hours, taking pictures and generally reveling in its beauty and ostentatiousness. I had seen pictures of the floors of the Hermitage and cathedrals around St. Petersburg, but I was not prepared for what I saw in person. They were absolutely BEAUTIFUL. I heard a tour guide say to an English-speaking couple that in every single room the floors, walls, and ceilings were completely different. No two rooms are alike. That’s saying something, because there have to be hundreds of rooms in the place. There were halls dedicated to German, Italian, French and Russian art and even a huge hall dedicated to Egyptian artifacts. (I saw a mummy…it was really mummy-esque). The Hermitage even had a little hallway dedicated to student artwork, and featured adorable crayon drawings, the contents of which I am not sure. (It sounds like I’m taking a swipe at kids art, but I’m not, I swear!)

The floors

The ceilings

The art! This was one of my favorite paintings

More floors

As you can see, you are totally not allowed to touch anything.
I did see a guy, though, KNOCKING on one of these tables.
Um...sir....I assure you, it's real. You're not imagining that table,
you don't need to make sure it isn't a hologram.

View from inside

CANAL!!

These guys were working on installing a new
exhibit, but decided to take a break with a
friendly game of volleyball.

Look it's me! I was there!

One more floor shot, for good measure

            After several hours of wonderment, we were hungry again. We left the Hermitage, walking in the same direction that we came, deciding that perhaps adventure was less important than eating and maybe, just maybe, resting for a while. We came upon a cheap, diner-like restaurant that advertised pizza, which to me is the holy grail of foods right now. I crave pizza constantly, but due to the lack of a working oven on our floor I rarely get a chance to eat it. We went inside and saw “Hey Arnold” playing on the television and it was abundantly clear that we made the right decision.

            We left the restaurant, full and even sleepier than before, walking leisurely back and stopping every so often to take more photos and even went into a clothing store for a little bit. (I say “little bit” and I mean it – Russian clothes are the most expensive and ridiculous things ever. So many sequins, so little time. And that’s not even mentioning the fur, the satin pants, the itty bitty leather jackets…)

Oh hey a giant Swiss army knife!

Oh hey a giant Darth Vader head!

            On our way home, we got a call from Hana’s friend Mac. We had planned on meeting him while we were in St. Petersburg, and he was calling to arrange a time, which ended up being a mere two hours away. So much for rest…

            So, we went back to the hostel, I called my parents and woke them up at like 5:00 AM (I am terrible at the time difference thing!) and we headed back out into the cruel world. We met Mac in front of the metro station, and he took us for a walk past the row of clubs that we would later return to, the Church of the Spilled Blood of blah-de-blah and a really pretty park in front of yet another nameless but very important building. We saw the eternal flame, walked across a gigantic bridge, saw the Peter and Paul Fortress (which I keep calling the Peter, Paul and Mary Fortress in my head) and then walked through some more parks, took a metro to his dorm (which is on one of the islands of St. Petersburg) and walked around some more, drinking beers and taking in the sights. Apparently, we saw Finland and some huge cruise ships that dock there! There was also an excellent view of the city’s center, of which I took a picture.

A park.

Right outside the frame is a gigantic banner advertising
a sale at some clothing store.

You're not allowed to do a lot of things in this park.

Eternal flame!

The fortress. (Peter and Paul)

St Petersburg.

I don't know what this is, but it's so cool, isn't it??

            After hanging out in the dorm for a while, we were hungry again. Thus begins the most miserable part of the night, which involved us frantically walking around for 2 HOURS trying to find a restaurant called “The Idiot” (irony – not lost on me). We ended up not finding it and eating at a Chinese restaurant by the metro station we got off at two hours prior. It was at this point that my stress fracture happened. I am no stranger to pain, but my godforsaken right foot had me limping around like Quasimodo, only slightly more pathetic. I told Hana and Mac that I was going to call it a night, but they suggested that we find a club or bar to sit down at so I could rest and have a few drinks (because nothing cures pain quite like alcohol…). It was an offer I couldn’t refuse…

            SO after a horrific journey, which involved ACTUAL mockery by ACTUAL Russians (my feelings were not hurt – if I had seen me limping around on a Friday night at 10:00 with two otherwise uninjured companions I probably would have thought it was some sort of act of drunken tom-foolery) we returned to the small street of clubs, went inside, sat at the bar, and proceeded to make a night of it. The bartenders were amazing, the music was fantastic and loud, and my foot was numbed by vodka. We tried the drink of the moment in Russia, which consists of vodka, grenadine and Tabasco sauce. We danced, made friends, and had an amazing time. I should mention the fact that at some point the toilet in Che (our mother ship for the evening) overflowed, sending toilet water cascading in rivers all over the dance floor. It was gross, but was not enough to deter everyone from dancing on.\

            We ended our night (although by this time it was about 7:45) falling asleep on couches in a bookstore, and then getting kicked out along with other stragglers who, like us, just wanted to go home and go to sleep. When we finally did make it home, Ilya was wide awake, telling us that he thought we had died and that he was so worried. I say again – best hostel ever. Although I still feel guilty about worrying him.

            When I woke up the next morning (it was still morning, by the way…11:45 AM to be exact!) everyone in the hostel was teasing Hana about our escapades. My favorite hostel guest, a German guy who was mostly silent but oh-so handsome, looked at us and merely asked “Rough night?” We met some of the other people staying at Soul Kitchen, and when I say “met” I mean “listened to a group of loud, obnoxious Australian dudes talk about how weird everything in Russia is and how they could have gotten with so many hot Russian chicks last night.” Ugh. Needless to say, I didn’t really care to interact with them. At all.

            Saturday was spent in full recovery mode, unfortunately, and I took a huge nap in preparation for Saturday night. I wanted very badly to walk around and see more sights but my foot was still practically useless to me, so the farthest we walked was to a restaurant that served delicious food, and to Pushkinskaya 10, an art gallery. That night, Ilya took us to a really cool underground bar close to the hostel that served cherry flavored beer and required you to ring to doorbell to go inside. He made us a map of other clubs in the area, including one that was insanely exclusive and that we only got into by virtue of our connections with the hostel. Seriously. The bouncer had a guest list. Hana and I danced a bit, and then decided to call it a night. We walked back to the hostel, enamored with St. Petersburg and everyone in it, vowing to come back as many times as possible.

            This brings us to Sunday. Donna and Olga were to arrive in Moscow and meet with us about our paper topics, then take us out to Yolki-Palki, that delicious and cheap restaurant we went to three separate times – once with Marina, once on my birthday, and once after Hana and I bought our train tickets to St. Petersburg. We had been told we wouldn’t be able to get tickets that would get us back to Moscow in time for our dinner, but by a stroke of luck we bought tickets that got us back only 45 minutes later than they arrived at the restaurant. We ate, caught up with our professors, and returned to the dorm, exhausted but so happy to see familiar faces. When I saw Donna and Olga I was reminded of my France trip in high school – sometimes it’s just really great to have the comfort of an adult presence, people to guide you like ducklings through an unfamiliar place.

           

            Here is what I did on Monday, the day before we left for Tula:

·         Laid in bed, watched movies, let my foot try to heal

On Tuesday morning we set off, bags in hand, excited to leave Moscow for someplace smaller, and hopefully greener. On the long train ride to Tula I sat across from Olga and next to Hana. Olga spoke to me only in Russian, asking what my paper was going to be about and how I liked Moscow and how I was doing in general. I forgot what it was like to be pushed to speak Russian (when I said “Я не знаю, как сказать” which means “I don’t know how to say…” she said “Yes you do” and waited patiently while I figured it out on my own) while not feeling like an idiot if something came out wrong. It made me long for classes at Beloit.

When we got to Tula, after four hours of sitting upright on benches with no toilet in sight, we met Alexander Alexandrovich, our guide in Tula and professor at the university we would be staying at. After a bustling van ride, we arrived at the dorm and split up into groups of three. My room ended up consisting of myself (obviously), Hana, and Jen. I unpacked all of my things into the drawers and got settled in, and then we watched TV for a while.

Our first room in Tula. Before I knew what was lurking
in the closet...

And that’s when it happened.

One of us had to sleep on the couch, due to the fact that there were only two beds in the suite. The suite itself was awesome, with its own bathroom and living room, a TV, refrigerator and chairs and a couch. So, because we knew we were leaving to eat soon, Hana decided to find the extra pillows and blankets. She pulled a pillow out of the closet…and there they were. Little worms (maggots? No one ever found out) crawling in the pillow and falling on the floor. Now, I spent my summer in Minnesota, where I was accustomed to seeing little caterpillars and worms and daddy long legs on a regular basis (though they were outside), but since being in Russia I had only really seen like three mosquitoes and no other bugs. So this was gross. We all stood around the pillow, grossed out and, admittedly, squealing and making kind of a big fuss about it, not that our concern was unfounded. I mean, if there were maggots in the extra pillows, who’s to say they wouldn’t be in the regular ones? After showing the bugs to everyone, relying on David and Ike to identify them (they couldn’t), we called in the big guns and were relocated to another room, in the hallway that David and Ike were in. Previously, we had been surrounded by girls’ rooms and the woman who moved us to a new room accused us jokingly of “just wanting to be closer to the boys.” Har-har.

Classy shower of class.

Jen and Hana, relaxing before "The Incident"

At this point we were tired, hungry, and kind of put off so when it took 20 minutes to walk to the restaurant I think I speak for everyone when I say I was a little miffed. Fortunately, when we walked inside Olga pointed out the stripper pole in the middle of the totally random stage and the tension was broken. Also, because we are in Russia, apparently Beloit feels ok with paying for beer and ridiculous amounts of food for everyone. Thus begins three days of eating more delicious food than I have ever had in my life. (Ok, I’ve probably had better food at some other point in my life, but after surviving on rice and frozen “meat” you could have put a plate of food from Commons in front of me and I would have cried with joy…I’m not too hard to please.)

The next day we boarded our van and traveled 3 hours outside of Tula (putting us ¾ of the way back to Moscow, according to Donna) through really beautiful countryside and light snow. We were going to see Chekov’s estate, and when we finally got to the town in which it is located we were dropped off by a trail leading into the woods. Everyone got out of the van, confused as to why there were no signs marking the entrance of the grounds, but on we marched, through the woods, through trees and mud and so many leaves, until we got to a little group of dachas (summer homes) that were obviously unoccupied. Alexander was nonplussed and started to walk towards God knows where with Olga to ask for help. I began to suspect that we were actually being led into a shanty town to have our organs harvested and sold on the black market, because I have watched one too many horror movies. Ilija began singing “Alejandro” by Lady Gaga. David started talking about Bear Grylls and how he says to flap your arms around if it gets too cold in order to warm the body up, which started a hearty debate about whether he is a big phony or a ruggedly handsome wilderness god. All hope seemed to be lost. Then Olga and Alexander returned with the news that this, was not in fact the place we were supposed to be. No one was surprised by this.

Our trek into the woods.

The forest OF DOOOOOOOOM. (Can you see the snow?)

Perhaps you will understand my hesitation now that you
see the town we stood in for 15 minutes. I was planning a quick
escape should it have been necessary.

So, we trekked back to the van, got back on, drove about 5 minutes down the road and saw a HUGE sign that said “OH hey guys, these grounds with a clearly marked museum and parking lot full of buses is actually where you’re supposed to be. Duh.” Actually, it just said “Chekov’s Estate.” Potato, pot-ah-to.

Helpful signage.

Little pond behind Chekov's house.

My favorite painting inside the house

In order to enter the house, you had to pass
through the most comfortable-looking door
EVER.

Chekov's sister's room. Girliest room ever. (Also, who is that
total hunk in the middle of the wall?)

A cutie-patootie little house on the property.
Reminds me a little of Marie Antoinette's
little place at Versailles.

The shortest fence ever. Probably to keep out leprechauns.

Chekov's charming little doctor's office

Due to a mass exodus of children from the
dining area, Ike got shoved behind a door.
I thought it was funny.

What kind of jerk has a statue of himself
on his own estate?
(I'M JUST KIDDING, CHEKOV!)

"Oh, don't mind me, I'm just frolicking in the leaves!"

As it turns out, Chekov had it made. The place was gorgeous, and I took lots and lots of pictures. He was actually a doctor, and he had his own little clinic-type thing on his property. I feel like I would have enjoyed it more had I, one, been dressed properly and two, not had a debilitating injury. We left after about an hour and drove the three hours back to Tula, trying to get to the Museum of Samovars before closing time. We didn’t. It turned out just fine, though, because we went to the museum of weaponry (not the actual name, but an accurate description). Some of us (coughDavecoughIkecoughcough) enjoyed it more than others. For the first 30 minutes I thought “oh hey this is really awesome!” but after that it sort of went downhill. As someone with very limited knowledge of weapons it’s difficult to focus for too long on a million cases of guns and ammo. I did, however, see a distractingly handsome photo of Putin on the wall. It’s a pity we couldn’t have timed our visit better J

Back in Tula, at the compound where the weapons museum
was.

Imposing building with appropriately imposing statue of
Lenin

One of many cathedrals. This one is
extra gorgeous.

Then it was off to dinner! We ate sausages and bread and drank beer at a ridiculously awesome German restaurant, where the waitresses dressed in the stereotypical outfits worn at Oktoberfest. I had the honor of getting a bloody beer glass because our waitress cut her thumb and, in true Russian fashion, decided to waitress on despite the blood loss. All in all, a good meal.

The next day I was just miserable on account of my damn foot, and when we went to Tolstoy’s estate, Yasnaya Polyana, I was back to being Quasimodo. We took a gratuitously long tour of Tolstoy’s house, given entirely in Russian. At the end of the 45 minute tour I felt slightly murderous and a little woozy. We did, however, make it to Tolstoy’s grave, which was incredibly beautiful and green:

Lake at Tolstoy's place. Fun fact: Tolstoy's wife tried
unsuccessfully to drown herself in this lake after he left her
during one of their many fights. Only she was like 70 or 80
years old when she did it.

The only room in Tolstoy's house we were allowed to take
pictures in. Our guide furtively shut the door and told us
to take our photos quickly.

It was in this room that Tolstoy wrote
"Anna Karenina"

Tolstoy had lots of books in his house.
My favorite was "The Story of My Life" by
Helen Keller.

Tolstoy's grave

When he was younger, Tolstoy's brother made up a story
about a green stick being buried somewhere in these woods.
If the stick was found, there would be no more sadness in
the world. Tolstoy believed him. His grave is an homage
to his never-ending search. And probably his gullibility.

Horses and ponies were roped to these trees, although I have
no photographic evidence. I also have no photographic evidence
of the ducks that were taunting them. I also also don't have
photographic evidence of the girls who were walking around
the estate in pencil-thin heels. Oh, Russia.

After that, we went to the most awkward round table discussion of my life, with students from the university. We were ushered into a classroom, made to sit in the front facing everybody, saying our names and majors, and then forced to mingle. It doesn’t sound so bad, until I get to the part where Hana and I met a guy who constantly asked my age and (unbeknownst to me) only addressed my chest when doing so. Like I said, awkward.

Alas, after our quick tour of Tula it was time to return to Moscow. We sat on the train for three hours, this time playing cards and being obnoxious Americans, although there weren’t many people around to see us so I think our reputation might still be intact.

Tula is famous for its cookies filled with jam or cream.
This is a picture of one such cookie.
(Underneath it is a train ticket from St. Petersburg)

That evening’s meal was the crown jewel of meals. Beloit ended up footing the bill for over $400 of Georgian cuisine, which included appetizers like eggplant and spinach and cheese bread and a main course of potatoes and lamb, chicken, pork, beef and sausage all served with an array of sauces. Also, I think Deb had the most gigantic glass of beer in the world. Hana and I stuck with Bloody Mary’s. For dessert, we each had three scoops of ice cream, served in margarita glasses. Throughout the meal, a woman singing karaoke would periodically come out of the woodwork to entertain us, and at the end of the meal she sang a familiar and upbeat tune. Olga encouraged us to dance. We were about the only people in the restaurant, aside from couples enjoying dates, so when we got up to dance we were the centers of attention. I think the restaurant workers loved us. At least, I hope they did.

And that was it. Donna and Olga returned to the US, I went on a futile search for crutches, couldn’t find any, and convinced myself (with the help of WebMD, a favorite among hypochondriacs) that all that walking around actually broke a bone in my foot. I didn’t, and it finally healed (mostly).

Other than that, there’s not much to report. Oh, except for the weekly bomb threats. Those are great. They started on the Wednesday we were in Tula, happened again the week after when Hana and I were meeting her friend for dinner, again last week at noon, and again today at 9:30 AM. We suspect that there’s a student somewhere on campus that really hates his Wednesday classes. If I could meet him/her I would dispense some advice: JUST DROP THE CLASS. These little evacuations have provided some valuable bonding time among students, though. Last week 15 of us went to a restaurant called Kruzhka, that serves $2 beer and delicious food and today I went with my roommate, MH, Veronique, Maxime, and Daniel to a “French” café and had French toast and a latte. Bomb threats are a little more bearable when they come with delicious food. Also, it did get me out of bed and into make-up and clothes that are not sweatpants, my intended uniform for the next few days seeing as we don’t have class until next Tuesday, the reason being that there’s a national holiday weekend.

My goal for these next few days is to be a tourist in Moscow. I want to visit museums, monuments, Victory Park, and maybe catch a movie. On Saturday some people are heading on a day trip out of Moscow, and I may join them. Either way, I plan on taking pictures of the city in which I live and doing things that are not going to class or bars.

Thanks for bearing with me on this absurdly long post after my absurdly long absence!

(Below you will find assorted photographs. They are not of places. They are of people.)

Me, in an extremely dim bar with black light.
You can faintly see my teeth.

Documentation of one of the many kitchen parties.
From left to right: Maxime, Christina, Eva, me.

Maxime and I take really poorly planned
pictures together. One of us always
sabotages the other.

From left to right: Christina, Maylina, Hubert, MH, and me.

Roommate bonding sometimes means impromptu
handstands by the elevator.

From left to right: Dima, Daniel, Maylina, MH