Misadventures in Russia

• Serious Business

I wonder why I tend towards situations that bring me the most discomfort. In every aspect of my life, I seem to fall into both environments and patterns of behavior that beget discomfort and slight awkwardness (which I secretly live for). Maybe because I simply thrive in it. I wouldn't give it up for anything. It's exciting to bring myself to new, personal limits every day, to become comfortable with realities I would have never have considered otherwise. Pushing the my comfort zone seems to be something of a hobby.

The nights are the hardest here, since it's the silence that typically does me in. After the frenzy of finding my way around the city, catching up with friends from the group, doing my homework, and letting the Russian seep into every aspect of my being, the silence in my room, in the dark, is the hardest part of my day. I can't seem to get to sleep, which is stressful in itself considering how well you do really does rely on how rested you are.

I feel as though I haven't given myself the pause to really reflect on being in Russia. It's those little epiphanies that happen every day that register like little pleasurable jolts throughout my body that keep me grounded. After seeing the city light up at nine on the dot or zoning into conversations people are having on the bus, I think to myself, "Wow, I'm here. I'm actually in Russia."

My host mom and I immediately hit it off as I thought we would. Sometimes I'll look back on our conversations, remembering the flow, the tone, and the humor and suddenly realize that none of it was in English. Negotiating with her in Russian and simply being myself in another language, though my grasp of it is minimal, is so fulfilling. Every day I feel like I reach a new level of understanding. She tells me that in a month I will speak "kak russkaya", or like a regular Russian woman. Well, she has high hopes and I hope, for my sake, that I can live up to them.

The woman can cook, too. I'm basically spoiled. While my friends are off having borscht and blini, I'm eating freshly prepared dolmas and lobio. To top it all off, I have internet. That's luxury, my friends.

While we broke the "на вы" barrier within the first two days, the level of ease between us has already grown to encompass calling each other "сука" (bitch) and laughing at each other's mishaps. All in all, a good situation.

• Not so serious business

The excursions. Arguably serious business, but since they're always with friends and there's always antics, I think they qualify for this realm of discussion.

So far, our only excursion has been on a boat through the canals of St. Petersburg and along the Neva. That was nifty. I think I was so tired that none of it really registered. Really, the only thing that registered was when Kain said, "Why don't you put some smetanki on my blini s myasom?" Rough translation: Put some sour cream on my meat roll. I love meaningful cultural interjections.

Also, I delight in seeing signs around the city like "Resto-Bar" and random graffiti in English like "Men= Suicide". Yessss. So good. Please rock on, Russia.

And, oh, the night life! There's really nothing quite like it in America. Each bar I've been to seems to be worn around the edges, just like many parts of the city itself. The genre of music could be classified as "guilty pleasure". Russian pop? Yes. Ob-la-di by the Beatles, two different nights and two different clubs? Hell yes. Bon Jovi-- It's My Life? I swear I've never seen people rock so hard.

There's so much to cover that I'm really only scratching the surface and writing down just random thoughts. Also, it's pretty ridiculously late. Remind me why I'm writing this late again? Oh, right. The whole not sleeping thing.

For those of you faithful enough to even read this today: Check back tomorrow for epic photomographs and possibly more structure. Exciting prospects, yes?