Two Jews walk into a Russian bar. The bartender says, get the fuck out, you Jewish fucks.

Finally got to interact with some Russians. It was at a bar. I was with a group. They were polite, and did not sexually harass any of us, I call that a win. However. One of my favorite comedians, Eugene Mirman, a Russian, put it best: "What we as Americans think of as political correctness, Russians see as false manners and lies." Errybody racist. The way two of my teachers have put it is that "we all have prejudices. Some people just say them out loud." So... I don't... hm. One of the men at the bar said he didn't like Jewish people. I said why. He said why do you have to ask me, you don't like them either, you just haven't realized it yet. He must have heard about the housing market crisis on Wall Street. Damned if every one of those bastards ain't a Jew. Oh God, they're getting to me... 

But mostly I've been sitting in a cave of illness, unable to do anything fun, even missing out on Margarita Monday. If my life had a soundtrack, Mozart's Requiem would be suiting to sound my misery. There are activities I could potentially participate in at school... tonight is game night. But if there is one thing I'm not interested in doing, it's sitting around for an even longer amount of time with the juvenile douche b's I'm stuck in class with all day just so I can watch them become so uber competitive that the only way they can settle a disputed scrabble score is to see how far they can launch their seed while they beat each other off. 

I could REALLY have used Margarita Monday. 

Anyway. Sorry so short. When life gets more interesting and less sickly, there will be stories to be told, I'm sure. 

Swan Flake

Last night I saw a production of Swan Lake in the Mikhalovsky Theater.

Luckily, before I left for Russia, I bought an awesome camera.

CHECK OUT THAT ZOOM!

Unluckily, however, there was a hawk of a women patrolling the aisles making sure no one took pictures or videos during the show, which was just as well because it... was... pretty disappointing. Now, I'm no critic, but I'm going to pretend that I am. I've seen a fair amount of ballets in myyyy day, and these fuckers ain't got no soul. It seemed like they were just playing parts. Which they were. But I was more moved watching the Black Swan (movie) than at any point throughout this ballet. Also, I rented those little snazzy little binoculars. Big mistake. This is essentially what I saw.

Barf. Zilla. 

So, in their defense, it's probably hard to pretend you're a perdy bird when your leg could snap in half at any moment because you think salad is too caloric. I'm so torn between feeling sorry for them and wanting to demand entertainment from them. I can do both? 

Anyway, then the WORST THING happened. The ballet abruptly ENDED. And the white swan DIDN'T KILL HERSELF. Everyone gets up and heads to coat check, while all of us Amuricans are like "wait... what?" Then we notice that on the pamphlet it says it's an interpretation of the ballet by some asshole, doesn't matter who, he ruined it, that's all I care about. Happy endings are not Russian. If you don't leave crying, something isn't right. Although there was one dude crying in the hallway all over his date. He was probably also upset about how outrageously the thing ended. 

And then everyone left to drown their sorrows in beer, while I went home because I'm afraid of being raped in a bar bathroom, also, sick. 

Additionally, here are a few facts I left out of my previous list about eccentricities in Russia: 

During orientation we were told that last year "only 8 people" died from falling icicles in St. Petersburg last year. Thank god. If it was 10 I would be worried. Essentially, there are workers whose job it is to shovel all the snow off the edge of the buildings. Most of the time, they do not care who is on the sidewalk below. Wonderful. 

1/3 of all the deaths in Russia are caused by some alcohol related incident. 1/3. Thats... 1/3. I don't think I need to say more. 

Also, my pee smells. All the time. And my hair and nails are growing like fucking crazy. I don't really know what's going on.

Here are some pictures.

Some armor on some horses at der Hermitage. 

A church thing in Novgorod.

I have too much breasts to be ballerina. 

Aaaaaand... Rizhik :)

Who let the sun go down on me?

After about two weeks I'm starting to feel the effects of little to no sunlight. The only upside is that I'm not the only one who is pale as shit anymore, which is nice. Not many Russians go tanning. And the ones that do seem to be trying to tan themselves out of the visible spectrum.

Beautiful. Anyway, it took me awhile to realize that, yeah it's Russia and everything is terrible, but probably not as terrible as it seems at the moment. But I brought my happy light , so we're spending a lot of time together before I decide to throw myself in front of a train. Also, I started to listen to music on my way to class. Initially I was afraid that if someone saw me with headphones they would c**t-punt me and steal my iPod, but it would be a small price to pay for a few moments of happiness in the mornings. And it helps, as well, to think of the crowd on the metro as if you're being hugged by a thousand people instead of squeezed and pushed and prodded by a million elbows and bags and you start getting tunnel vision and panicking and the room seems smaller and the air is stifling and oh my god why is the fill power in this coat so goddamn high I can't stop sweating do you think they're noticing that I'm breathing harder if I don't get out of here I might literally have a heart attack. No... hugging is a much better alternative.

I've also had a lot of down time to myself, so I've been reading a lot. Sci-fi/fantasy lit might be a new interest of mine. HG Wells is god.

Also, a $60 pair of pants from the Gap costs $100 here. And they flip you off at the register and call your mother a cow.

ALSO also, I am not one for physical affection. In any way. Gross. But goddamnit do I want someone to hold my hand every once in awhile. Until then, it's just me and Pepe.

What you may not know about Russia...

In my very short time here, I've made some observances that I'm sure are 100% accurate in analysis. They are as follows:

1. Most Russian women wear heels. Initially I thought it was for the same reason everyone else wears heels: lift that booty! Wrong. I believe the real reason is that they work as pick axes to stab a hole through the two inches of ice that usually cover the sidewalks. Stylish AND functional!

2. If you're not eating it with sour cream, why are you eating it at all?

3. Now, I haven't spent a lot of time in American cities with metros, so this may just be universal, but the metro is no place for personal space. In order to get out, you HAVE to push. And be pushed. And looking incredulously at everyone around you will get you nowhere, except possibly noticed as a foreigner, which leads me to number...

4. Don't make eye contact with anyone, and for god's sake, don't smile at them, because they take that as a sign of sexual interest. Even if it's a dear looking old man who may remind you of your grandfather. If you smile at him, he will ruin your grandfather for you forever.

5. The weather is not an appropriate topic to discuss with anyone. It's fucking cold, we all get it.

6. If you don't eat carbs, you do now. Between all the rice and potatoes and pastries and cheese to hold it all together, you'll be ready to take the shit of your life, and yet, sadly, won't be able to.

7. If you're with a group of Americans speaking English loudly, which is the only way we do it, I'm pretty sure, everyone will hate you, but at the same time be fascinated with you. Also, they will assume you are from Santa Barbara. I don't know what it is with Russians and Santa Barbara, but it's just easier to tell them you're from there, and yes, I see famous people on my way to work every day! Whatever.

8. Don't get excited about beer. Corona is king in most of the restaurants. And I don't know about you, but if a beer needs fruit it in to be passable, it's not worth the calories/being seen drinking it.


Part two: MEDEM

I was lucky enough to get to experience the Russian medical system (Clinic MEDEM) within my first few days! It was a lady problem, don't worry about it, whatever. First, cheap. Cheap as balls. Services that would have cost me $250 in the US cost me around $85. Second, no wait, whatsoever. And I didn't speak with a nurse, I met immediately with the doctor. Whoa. And third, first rate entertainment. I was told my doctor spoke English, but she spoke about as much English as my cats. "Have with your periods come how much?" "When you has periods at first day how old you are?" And then when she was telling me my diagnosis, she invited my program head in to translate. Only slightly embarrassing. She is now well acquainted with the goings-on with my vag, and now every time I see her when she says "How are things?" I am well aware that she is asking "How that cooch?" Ugh.

And now some pictures! (Also, I just turned to TV to disney channel and they're talking to a Furby. Russia is about 15 years behind us in most things.)

Cheese pie. Ohhhhh my god. Oh my god. Yeah. 

Smolny Cathedral at my school. 

Kind fuzzy, but that last word sounds like "Blookher," as in Frau... neigh. ;)

Давайте начнем...

Let's start at the very beginning. A very good place to start.

I'm a 22-year-old mama jama participating in the CIEE Study Abroad Language Program in St. Petersburg, Russia. My journey began January 30 in Chicago. Well. Really it began the day before when I dropped my dog off at my mom's house. Possibly the hardest part of the trip so far. Say what you will about snuggles from ya boo, unconditional doggy live wins every time. Anyway. With all the teary goodbyes and positive assurances that I would kick ass and take names, I was about ready to yak by the time I made it to security. Luckily my dad eats tears for breakfast, so it wasn't a messy affair. And honestly, as soon as he walked away it was as if all my anxiety melted away. I couldn't remember what I had been afraid of. CIEE would be holding our hands for the next three days. If I needed to worry, I didn't need to do it yet.

So there I am in Chicago, la la-la la-la, wait three hours, get on a plane, wait some more, but WHAT? Four seats to myself on a 7-hour overnight flight? I'll take it! So I make it to my connecting flight in Shhhhhveeeeden, where, by the way, everyone is blonde and toothy and the newspapers all look like tabloids. Beautiful. It's a short layover, but I find six other people from my first flight who are in my program. They, like everyone else I've met through CIEE so far, were all ridiculously easy to talk to and pretty cool people. (Sidenote: it's like a crime not to have an industrial [upper ear piercing, mom] in this program. I've seen like 20 so far.) So we wait. And we board. Again. Eventually......

We made it! You know all those things you've heard about how terrible Russian winters are? I have yet to experience them. It's like 20 degrees (F) here with little wind chill. What the balls! NOT complaining. A hat is barely necessary. Hell yes. Anyway.

They proceed to trap us in the hotel for three days. I can't tell you how much sitting I've done, but I've gotten super good at it. Seriously, though, I feel like I have growing pains in my legs. Here is what our schedule has been like: force feed brekkie, sit, force feed lunch, sit, force feed dinner, sit, go sit at the bar in exhaustion from all the other sitting you've been doing, get ready to do it again tomorrow. However, aside from all the complaining, we learned useful and terrifying things in orientation. So terrifying that I'm not sure I will ever leave my apartment. Very tragic and unspeakable things have happened to people who have in the past participated in this program. I won't list them (you're welcome, mom), but I feel safer driving down MLK Boulevard in DC with the doors unlocked, windows open, blasting country on the radio, and a bumper sticker of the confederate flag that says "Heritage, NOT HATE".

Anyway. They take us to the Russian Wal-Mart, Lenta, and we buy pay-as-you-go phones, then go back to the hotel to sit. Whatever.

Then today comes. Shit happens! We take a bus tour around St. Pete. There's a lot of beauty mixed with "holy shit das racist." Also, forget being a Jew here. Just don't do it, how dare you. So we see a lot of cool, historical nonsense (that actually gives me a raging learning boner), and the Neva, which is so frozen you can WALK ACROSS IT?

Fuck yeah! Also ^ these bitches, Anya and Katya, are red heads like myself, hate most women, and are completely adorable. BFFz. So after some more driving around and some practicing our metro faces, as to appear fierce and slightly annoyed:

They take us to our school! Which is......

Completely beautiful. It used to be a convent, turned school for girls, turned PARTY MANSION just kidding, but what a waste, turned school for errybody.

Finally we return to the hotel where we eat and sit some more, have a few more moments of orientation and then it's time to meet our host families. I'm one of the first people to have their name called. Let me flippin tell you. This was the most nerve racking experience of the trip so far. What if she hates me! Oh god I should push my nose ring up into my nose! She's going to try to feed me and I'm already stuffed! I seriously have to get into a car while a Russian drives?! But then Marina Vasilievna appears, and she is a beautiful angel. (And she totally did feed me until I thought I would vomit.) So we have brief hellos, and off we go onto the automotive-ly dangerous streets of Piter. Anyway, as I'm writing my will out in my head, because I'm not sure anyone in Russia should be allowed to drive (seriously, though, they drive as recklessly as I do when I'm playing Mario Kart), the nerves slowly fade away and all seems right with the world. We get home, and HALLELUJAH they have internet. And I have my own tv! Kick ass!

I proceeded to take a six hour nap, and now it's one in the morning and I'm wide awake. Perhaps a midnight stroll... NEVER. EVER. GOD. And now, even though there are a jillion little Russian quirks I want to write about, meh. I'll do it later. ;)