something's in the air....

This is my last post from Moscow for awhile. My next updates will come from St. Petersburg. My train heads out tomorrow night.

*and by the way, this blog is filled with few events and mostly my own personal introspection, to which I am prone in times of change. So don't read it if you're not interested in that.

Last night was my "going away party" which even though I'm coming back, it won't be to this apartment (unfortunate for my social life, fortunate for my bank account). Honestly, the party was in many ways a big freakin' fiasco. There were tons of people here, most of whom I didn't know.
Brooke: Desi I'm really impressed at all these cool friends you have! Where did you find them?
Desi: I don't know most of them, I have no idea how I found them.
(although, those other random guests aside, I was pleasantly proud of myself - "hey! I made friends!")

I had wanted a more intimate party, with the friends that I had already made, and a chance to spend time with them, some of whom won't be around when I'm back in Moscow. Well, the best laid plans of mice and Desi are often gone astray. Maybe I should stop trying to plan things, like Alana (who always says, Desi, I wish that I could plan things like you do). Unfortunate we did piss off the neighbor, but hey, I move out tomorrow. Just kidding, I feel bad because some of the guests didn't really have fun, and others had too much fun. Anyway, I'm rambling. Last night, while I was lying in the middle of my bed, surrounded on one side by Dave, the other side by Zhenya (and the person in the middle always gets the least amount of space) I thought about naming this blog "International University Crash Room Redux" in honor of the sardine-style nights spent in the dorms in Moscow in 1997 when seven of would fit into two twin beds pushed together. But I digress.

Not enough sleep was had, and the apartment was a mess. Thank god I didn't drink alot and wasn't hung over. Some cleaning was done, some coffee was drunk, etc. I went to visit an friend who couldn't make it to the party and had dinner with her and Alana and then Alana and I came home, and instead of staring to pack, we talked for 3 hours about life, plans, family, and what the hell this stuff all means. Its funny because Alana is 23 and completely different from me and from the me I was at 23. And she came to Russia very accidentally and is now trying to decide what to do about all of it. She's impulsive, light hearted, and carefree. She says she admires my drive and dedication and devotion to Russia and to the path that I have chosen for myself in life, and my compulsiveness in many things. I admire her spirit and her ability to take whatever life throws at her next, without worrying about it all (too much). It's funny because different lives, paths and personalities brought us to our kitchen table in Moscow, but we're both on the brink of something, we just don't know what it is.

My sub-conscious has been up to something the last few months. During the day, I go to the archives and I love it. I love my topic, I love the act of research, I love it all. I'm making great progress on my topic. But when I'm not doing what I came here to do, something else is up. When I got to Moscow I was so ready to be out of Charlottesville for awhile. It had gotten too small, and I couldn't get away from reminders of things that were less than pleasant for me. Well, you can't run away from things because I've managed to dwell, in a productive way on the events of the past few years plenty. The actions of others, the choices I made, etc. etc. But I've also been dreaming, day-dreaming about all of these others things that I want to do, somethings which were dreams from a long time ago that I forgot, others that are new, which has turned into some really serious thinking about what I want to do with my life. I look forward, honestly - in my really nerdy way - to plowing through my information, reading random books and writing my dissertaion about the fate of religious structures in Soviet urban planning (fine, yawn, I don't care). But then I started to realize that I'm not looking forward to doing that next year. I"m restless. And no, I'm not ready to join that proverbial "real world". Maybe that's because I realize I spent so much of my youth being so damn serious.

Okay, so I'm still serious. But how much have I done because that's what everyone expected me to do? This year so far, I have found it almost impossible to sit down and write applications for fellowships next year, and I don't know why. I've missed all but a few that are left, and I think that its because right now, I don't want to go to Charlottesville and write my dissertation, finish, get a job, whatever. There are other things I want to do. I hope that doesn't come off as selfish, because I know that I have already been blessed with the opportunities and abilities to do so many things in my relatively short life so far, and I've been able to do things that my many people will never get the chance to do, and I'm extremely grateful for that. But I don't want to take all of that for granted by passively accepting one particular path and whatever type of future that it will lead to. I feel as though right now there is one set of choices I could make that would lead to one life, and another set that will lead to another life entirely. I don't know what they are right now, but I have to make the choices soon, or I may always look back and wonder what could have been.

I saw a quote the other day online. Its an Hasidic Jewish saying and it just really struck me: "Carefully observe the way your heart draws you and then choose that way with all your strength."

I"m working on it.

the world has, at last, found balance

because it is currently 0 degrees Fahrenheit in Moscow and the wind chill is -18 Fahrenheit. The numbers in Celcius are even more chilling. (-18/-29 windchill). Also we're looking at almost a food of snow today and tomorrow. I see snowshoes in my future!

I'm really really really wishing Alana hadn't opened the balcony during the warm spell.

In other news, I went to visit my friend Katya and her new son, Vanya yesterday. Both are doing well. Laura called me this morning, and I'm off to finish some last minute things at Moscow archives before getting ready to move to Petersburg.
That's all from here. My going away party is on Friday, so I will probably be hung over on Saturday.

Borodino, and other such things

Hi people. Sorry for the general radio silence. I've been busy. This Sunday I went to Borodino, a village 60 miles east of Moscow which was the site of a critical battle in 1812 and later, a WW2 tank battle. I went there with Dave and Zhenia and we roamed about the villages for the day, admiring the brightly colored houses that certainly did their best to brighten the otherwise bleak village surroundings. There is a nicely outfitted museum now, which was not so nice when I was in Borodino 7 years ago.

Some of you will recognize the pictures of the tank, and yes, I indeed perched on that tank 7 years ago. When I told Dave that I was climbing up on it and he needed to take a picture of me, he thought I was crazy, but when I explained that climbing on weapons-relics across the former Soviet Union is part of my modus operandi, he acceded, and even climbed on the tank himself. Zhenia, however did not join us.

Here are the pictures:

http://share.shutterfly.com/osi.jsp?i=EeAM2TVm4bOGzCaA

Otherwise, I've been working. Its cold here again, at last, and we've been getting snow regularly. Nothing like the NE storm though! Tomorrow I'm going to see my friend Katya and her new son, Vanya (Ivan Aleksandrovich). Then a few more days at the archives here, and then its off to St. Petersburg.

I"m happy for a break from one archive in particular - the Moscow Regional archive. There is this lady who occasionally minds the front door and cloak room and has taken it upon herself to treat me like a 5 year old. The other day, I walked in and the first thing she said to me was "did you call your mother?" I was taken somewhat off-guard and answered "no". I was immediately informated that I am a bad person and she proceeded to tell another woman that I, the girl from America, is bad and doesn't call her mother. Later, while I was trying to eat my lunch she sat next to me, right next to me, and inquired why I only had a sandwich and that I should have the "first" course with lunch too, i.e. soup. I didn't see any soup. Today, when I told her I was leaving for St. Petersburg, she told me to remember to eat breakfast everyday. Now to everyone else, this probably sounds cute and endearing, and it would to me too, if this woman didn't smother me and talk to me like a child. I'm sorry, but I"m not going to smear on the mascara just so that people think I'm an adult.

I"m having a going away party on Friday, but its turned into Alana's party because she's invited all of her crazy Russian friends. I wanted to think of it more as my going away party for the apartment. I'm coming back to Moscow, but not to this apartment. But let me tell you how happy my bank account is about that!

When I have contact info in Petersburg, I'll let everyone know. It should be an interesting 2 months. Dave is going up with me, just so I don't have to handle my duffle bags by myself. Hell, the train ticket cost only $20 one way. (I bought his ticket in exchange for the help!)

I'm going to bed. Goodnight.

from someone who writes better than I do

So it turns out my friend Dave is quite skilled at capturing the Moscow experience through the written word. He had this Op-Ed published in the Moscow Times on Wednesday, and I have copied it here. Enjoy reading. And I am, incidently, the "friend who hosted the small New Years Party" in the peice. In case you were curious.

Otherwise, I've been working, working, working, and freaking out about my dissertation and my future, in general. But I did re-write my C.V. Off to a movie tonight, and then a day trip to Borodino tomorrow. Heard everyone is waiting on a winter storm! Have fun.

Embracing Absurdity, Fleeing Russian Fatalism
By David Pinsky
I have recently found myself engaged in a number of conversations with Western expatriates in Moscow that begin with the following question: "Why did I choose to live in Russia?" All cynicism aside, I know precisely why I chose to leave my home in New York City for Moscow, just as most other Westerners know their personal reasons for making their moves. Still, the question lingers in the back of my mind, ready to be pushed to the foreground with alarming frequency. And, perhaps surprisingly, it is not homesickness or some other form of mushy nostalgia that triggers such questioning. Instead, the triggers are the everyday absurdities that confront me here.
These absurdities are of an extraordinarily wide variety. Some seem amusing or even cute, while others, well, create a legitimate reason for concern. They range from the unexplained requirement that every receipt I am handed be torn in half, to the supposed existence of Baikal Finance Group. From the reason that doors to metro stations were designed to swing both ways with incredible force, to President Vladimir Putin's recent annual press conference, which saw one journalist present the Russian leader with a gift but not a single journalist ask a question about the war in Chechnya. And from my landlady's insistence that an enormous quantity of sour cream and mayonnaise are good for me, to the irony that ultranationalist Vladimir Zhirinovsky heads the Liberal Democratic Party.
None of this is to say that my own country is free of the absurd. To be sure, the United States has more than its own fair share of the illogical and ridiculous. The difference, however, is that in Russia, while the absurd is regularly acknowledged, it is rarely questioned: It is oddly accepted as simply a part of life.
The explanation my Russian friends offer for such willing acceptance is most often either fatalism or outright laziness. "We are a nation of fatalists," they say. "We don't waste time worrying about things over which we have no control." As for being lazy, I will refrain from comment, as my own country is notorious for being home to millions of low-energy souls who appear to have developed an acute fear of walking. I must concede, however, that there is something inviting about subscribing to fatalism. There is not, however, anything inviting about having an out-of-control metro station door smack you in the face. It is annoying. And it hurts.
Perhaps expatriates like me have a bad attitude, and perhaps Russia is not for us. I fully acknowledge this possibility and, as a result, had planned to be more accepting of Russia's quirks in the New Year. Or at least I had such a plan, anyway. When New Year's Eve actually rolled around, I decided that I had a better chance of successfully giving up smoking.
The night began at home, where my landlady and I had a New Year's Eve dinner together -- heavy on the sour cream and mayonnaise, of course -- before I headed out for the night. After dinner, on my way into central Moscow on the metro, I quickly stopped off at a grocery store to pick up some things for a small party that a friend was hosting. With my little grocery basket overflowing with vodka bottles, black bread and the various salty foods that are a staple of the Russian diet, I made my way to the checkout counter. All was proceeding smoothly until the cashier tried to ring up a vacuum-sealed package of smoked salmon.
"The barcode on this fish doesn't work," the cashier, a woman in her mid- to late 30s, said to me, after unsuccessfully trying to run her scanner over the package of smoked salmon. "We can't sell you the fish," she added with a sigh.
"The fish costs 108 rubles," I said, assuming that she simply did not know the price.
"It doesn't matter if we know how much the fish costs," the cashier explained. "We can't sell it to you if we can't scan the barcode."
"You can't sell me the fish because the barcode doesn't work?" I asked in disbelief.
"Yes, that's the rule," she stated firmly.
"This rule is ridiculous," I said. "We both know that the fish costs 108 rubles. Why can't I just give the money to you?"
"Because," the cashier explained, "if you give me the money for the fish and I don't scan the barcode, my drawer will be over by 108 rubles."
"Ok, what if I give you the 108 rubles and you leave it outside your drawer," I suggested.
"You can't do that either," another female employee, who was standing behind her, said. "It's against the rules."
"What kind of logic is behind these rules?" I asked.
"There is no logic," the woman behind the cashier said flatly. "This is Russia." Indeed it is.
The party I was headed to was located in an apartment on Tverskaya Ulitsa, just a few steps from Red Square, the site of what could loosely be equated to the New Year's festivities in New York's Times Square. The key word here is "loosely." Many differences exist between the two, but discounting for the obvious ones in scenery and demographics, the two most notable appear to be that in Moscow you are essentially free to drink alcohol in the street and you are permitted to bring and shoot off your own fireworks. Drinking in public, in the opinion of many, including myself, is not in and of itself a bad thing. And hey, why not combine it with explosives?
The resultant scene in the streets around Red Square unsurprisingly resembled something just short of a riot: thousands of rowdy and drunken revelers, shattered glass bottles, plumes of smoke following an endless series of freelance firework displays and cordons of Moscow policemen around the perimeter. Merry with the aid of a fair amount of Sovietskoye Shampanskoye, I admit that I was truly enjoying myself. This was state sponsored and endorsed chaos. How unique! What's more, it appeared far more interesting than standing among the huddled masses in Times Square, an experience I have never even considered having. For a moment, I forgot my impatience with Russian absurdities and even forgot the night's earlier encounter at the supermarket. My New Year's resolution to embrace Russian fatalism was a good one, I thought. Or maybe it only seemed that way, as within minutes a Technicolor explosive went off practically under my feet. I staggered to the side, my ears ringing. And then I firmly decided that fatalism is a creed better left to others.

David Pinsky is a writer and legal intern at Internews, where he is completing an independent research project about challenges facing non-governmental media in Russia. He contributed this essay to The Moscow Times.

Damn!

The Colts lost! (and thanks for the updates and comments on that - you know who you are!) Damn Patriots, I mean, jesus! There are no words.

And Damn! I typed an entry and it got lost in the vastness of the internet. It included a history lesson too.

Went on a hike yesterday - sans snowshoes, in case anyone was wondering, but my new hiking poles got broken in, and they worked great! Lots of familiar faces from my rainy day hike. The group has a lot of regulars. On the train back, this one guy kept interrogating me about EVERYTHING. Why are you in Russia? Where did you study Russian? What do you do? Why? Do you like Russia? Do you like America? What are the difference? Do you have Russian ancestors? Where do you live? How much is your rent? Why do you speak Russian so well? (okay, so I don't mind that one!), etc. etc. etc. Its a good group of people, and I was even invited on a trek in the Caucusus Mtns. in May, but I don't think I'll have time for that one! Felt good to get out, we were NW of Moscow, in a relatively hilly area, and there was still snow on the ground, but it was mixed with mud, ice, slush, and water in its various states!

Meanwhile, pensioners here are going nuts and striking and protesting all over the country because a new law went into effect which took away all of their benefits from the state, such as free public transportation and subsidized health care. The law is supposed to replace those services with cash payments, but the payments aren't nearly enough to cover the array of expenses that retired Russians have never had to pay, not since the Soviet Union came into existence. They blocked the highway leading to the airport here in Moscow the other day, and there have been multiple instances of attacks on bus drivers when they've asked pensioners to pay the fare! Putin's approval rating is dropping. Whoo hoo!

Off to a meeting - ciao!

I surrender to the forces of modernity

yes, today, I bought a Russian cell phone. I gave into all of the peer pressure and just got sick of "what!?! you don't have a cell phone!?!"

So now I am a proud owner of a very cute little phone, the simplest and cheapest I could find, and a customer of Megafon.

Do I know how to use my phone? Not really. I'm working on that.

BUT - you can send me text messages from the internet and I receive them for free.

Go to this website:

http://sms.megafonmoscow.ru/

Now, its all in Russian, so I have to talk you through it. The first part, there is a scrambled code that you have to read and type in (in numbers) to prevent spam computer program thingys from SMS-ing me.
Then it will give you a line for my number. 7-926 should already be entered in the area code part, and then fill in MY number: 1472576

Type the message and hit the button that looks like a send button, but is in Russian.
REMINDER - please sign your name! so I know who sent it - someone just sent me one, but I don't know who.

Hooray!

I would tell you to call me on it, but it would cost me $0.23 a minute, so don't.

busy busy busy

I wish I could say that I was busy improving (as in increasing) my nerd score, but I'm not. I'm back in the archives, plugging away. I'm in quite a mood today, a good mood, despite my exhaustion. I'm tired because I was up late reading last night, and finally finished a book which had sucked up my time and attention all week. But now its done and I can move on with my life.

The little things that made me happy today:
- I logged a solid 7 hours of work in 2 archives and the library, and while travelling between them managed to also walk 5+ miles. Its just nice to be back at work
- I had tortellini for dinner with my favorite pasta sauce, Pasta Barilla - Olives (we won't talk about how much I paid for it). I mean, pasta with stuff in it is one of man's great discoveries!
- One of my dearest and oldest friends just got engaged - go Heather!
- I got Nicole and Adam's Christmas letter in the mail today
- John called yesterday morning
- The Colts are in the playoffs
- Everytime I turn on the sports channel there is a live broadcast of a biathalon race on - have you ever seen these guys butts? And the women are awesome too.
- Schnappi das kleine krokodil
- When I met a graduate student from UChicago today, and we were talking about career choices I said, "I don't want to be a big shot professor, in fact I don't want to go into academia, that's not what I want out of my life."
- I bought little hair clips to reign in my unruly hair

Only bad thing - I can't find my C.V. on my hard drive, must be on my UVa network drive. Oops. Gotta update my VPN client! Oh, and I miss my parents. Call me....not during a football game!

Its currently raining here in Moscow. No snow to be found.

I encourage everyone to keep playing the nerd game featured in my earlier post.

how disappointing

I cannot believe this! I knew I was smarter in high school than I am now! This is a biased test by the way, and favors a very particular sort of nerd. If I keep going down this path I will be average, mediocre, a normal person.

The horror.

My brain needs more exercise.

Gorkii Park

When I returned from my walk around Izmailovskii Park on Friday afternoon, Alana announced to me that we were going to be having a little party, a Christmas party. I was really cold and tired, so I sighed and shrugged my shoulders in acceptance. I called some of my friends to even out the mix. It turned out to be, all and all, a really good time. It was an accidental group of people, Russians and Americans, but we meshed well - and I got to speak Russian most of the night, which is a rarity for me these days!

One of the guests was this friend of Alana's, Nina, who is about 30 and is an architect. She and I are kindred souls in many ways, and she is hilarious. Another girl, Katya, actually lives in St. Petersburg and came with a friend, which is great because now I have someone to hang out with up there, since I don't know anyone!

Three of the Russian guys basically decided that they were staying all night (no one left our house until at least 2am). I was not too keen on this idea, and expressed this, but to no avail.I persuaded a friend of mine to stay, as a place holder in my bed, so that no one else could ask to crash there!

The next day (after being awakened by a phone call from Sergei, our landlord, announcing he was coming by shortly - quick! clean!) Alana and I discovered that it was a sunny, almost balmy Moscow day. Honestly, yesterday reminded me of most of the winter in Charlottesville - brisk and chilly, but yet....not. It got up to 39 yesterday, and it already up to that today - I think we'll break 40 degrees.

Despite our recent predilection for sleeping the days away, Alana and I decided that such wonder daylight hours, few as they may be, should not be squandered, and we decided to go to Gorkii Park. I donned, in a state of supreme arrogance, only my fleece jacket and a scarf, stuffing a hat in my bag and leaving behind my gloves! Gorkii Park (which is no longer so named, to my knowledge) is basically a state fair-esque amusment park, which in the winter is also a large skating rink. But because of the thaw, there was water everywhere, sometimes close to ankle deep! And the paths, which all winter had been packed down, were basically covered in slippery, melting ice! So we literally skated along in our shoes. To our great delight (okay, to Alana's great delight) the ferris wheel was operating, so we went for a ride. From the top of the ferris wheel we got a panoramic view of the city - and a strong, cold wind! Now mind you, this is a Soviet era ferris wheel, the cars of which were a little rickety for my tastes and I fully expected the car to tip over forward and send us plummeting to the earth. Me and my frozen hands were happy to get out at the bottom, but I got some great pictures.

The following link includes pictures from before I came home, and those taken since New Years.

http://share.shutterfly.com/osi.jsp?i=EeAM2TVm4bOGzCLA

Merry Christmas! (again)

Yes, Merry Christmas to one and all, as today, January 7, is technically the Russian Orthodox Christmas (which is NOT the epiphany, as I thought, its just still Christmas because of the calendar change in 1917).

I managed to forget this until about 4 pm yesterday when a new Russian acquaintance, Zhenia called and invited me to go to a Christmas eve service with her somewhere. We went to Kropotkinskaia, where the huge cathedral, Christ the Savior is. That is where the state was having its official service, attended by Mayor Luzhkov and the Patriarch, Alexei II. We decided not to deal with that hassle, and walked to a church in the neighborhood that was built in the beginning of the 1700s. I don't have pictures yet, but I'll try and take some soon because the church was beautiful. The outside was actually quite non-descript building in the neo-classical style. But the church was not stripped of its icons and frescoes during the Soviet era because the inside looked original. I love smaller churches like that, because even though I am not a religious person, I consider myself a spiritual one, and for me, Russian churches really bring that out in me. In addition to the regular icons, iconostasis, etc., they had brought fir trees into the church and they lined the walls (very close to some of the candle offering stands!). We stayed for the midnight service, which was beautiful.

In Russian Orthodoxy, services are unlike anything Protestant, or even Catholic church goers in the states are generally accustomed to. This particular service began with the reading (almost singing/chanting, really) of the liturgy, which was almost impossible for me to understand. While this was happening, people came in and out of the church (as there is no sitting, only standing), lit candles at their preferred icons, and even engaged in consultation with the main priest off to the side in the main area of the church. Then began a different part of the liturgy which involved the choir singing in response to the priest. The choir was only 5 or six people, so every voice could be heard, and the responses that they sang were almost ethereal. Twice the congregation also sang prayers in response. It was simply amazing to stand there and listen, even if I could really understand (Zhenia explained that part of it is still in Old Church Slavonic), and to think. People of all ages were there, children with their parents, people my age, and people who no doubt remember the war.

It was just.....very nice.

In other news, I have managed to squander away my federally sanctioned respite from the archives by staying up until 2 or 3 am, sometimes closer to 4am, and sleeping until noon! Not my typical morning person behavior! I've been reading, sometimes going out, etc. A few nights ago I went with Brooke to a friend of hers to watch a movie. The movie ended up being "The Ring." God what a bad movie - of course that didn't prevent it from scaring the sh** out of me that particular night. But if you haven't seen it - don't - the ending is really lame. But I borrowed the book "Into Thin Air" by Jon Krakauer from her friend Vika, and I'm currently caught up in a fatefully disatrous Everest expedition in 1996. Don't worry, I feel no desire to go climb a mountain such as that!

Today I went to Izmailovskii Park (not the souvenir market of the same name) - where during the summer they have an amusement park, but during the winter you can ice skate or rent cross country skis. I didn't ski today, but I'm going next weekend. Depending on the weather this weekend, there will be a snowshoe attempt. Its supposed to be in the 40s on Sunday! I dragged those dang snow shoes with them and we don't really have enough snow yet! Argh!

Big flame - Little flame

These are the choices that faced me when I endeavored to preheat my oven to 325 degrees, Farenheit in order to bake a batch of brownies.

I also had no measuring cup.

Heather sent me back to Russia with two packets of brownie mix, which I decided to bake and bring to a dinner I was invited to last night.

Now I know you guys are waiting for me to tell you the part about how the oven blew up, the brownies caught on fire or came out raw. Sorry. They were a little cakey for my tastes, probably owing to the not quite exact measurements and scary Russian eggs.*

*(A friend of mine here said that Russian eggs look like they just took the hen, held it up over the carton and let the egg drop in. They are kind of unappetizing to look at, not our bleached white, clean shells)

But I kept an eye on them, deployed the toothpick numerous times to check doneness, and voila! Baked brownies in Russia. If only I had had more than 2 packets. Sigh.

The unfortunate development of the day was a cockroach who announced his presence in our apartment by trying to climb up my leg in the bathroom. Eek! I screamed like the girl that I am and ran out of the bathroom and shut the door. My announcement caused Alana, my roomate, to also scream like a girl. I peeked back in and found that my hasty exit had left our roach on his back with his nasty legs kicking in the air. I decided for the stepping on the newspaper approach to extermination, with a nasty clean up. Ugh. Alana begged me not to leave. We found holes in the kitchen wall behind the sink and don't know what to do about it. Maybe they've been around all this time, maybe he was a scout. I don't really want to know. Shudder.

Not as bad as Heather's mouse incident though.

Alana and I went to the Museum of Contemporary History today, which used to be the Revolution Museum, so I got to talk her ear off about Russian history, which I enjoyed! I was unable to talk our way through as Russians and had a little spat with the ticket woman, which ended in her suggestions that I talk to the management. Oh well. Unfortunately my narrative of Russian history to Alana turned into: "In 1891 there was a terrible famine." ... "So during the famine in 1922..." ..."The famine in 1932-33 killed millions of people." ..."Oh did I forget to tell you about the famine in 1946? How could I forget!" Sad, really. Not to mention the war casualties, victims of terror, etc. It was a fun day.

And such talk of famine left me so hungry that I had to run and get myself a double cheeseburger from none other than McDonalds. And let me tell you they are packed to the gills all the time. You'd think there was a famine.

Holiday photos

Here are pictures from my trip to Danville to see my family - these are unfortunately without labels, but the main characters in my Christmas holiday included my mom, dad, brother, aunt Becky and Uncle Richard. In case anyone was curious.

http://share.shutterfly.com/osi.jsp?i=EeAM2TVm4bOGz_A

And here are some pictures from New Years - my disclaimers for this collection includes the general, all-encompasing excuse of inebriation. They're not the best I've ever taken!

http://share.shutterfly.com/osi.jsp?i=EeAM2TVm4bOGz9I

Happy 2005 - Moscow style! (censored version)

Where to start?

I decided to host a small New Year's party at my apartment, owing to its proximity to Red Square, and there ended up being 6 of us - 4 Americans and a British couple that I had never met before. We ate and drank the evening away (even though I had said to myself I would only have champagne at midnight!) having a great time.

We headed out at about 11:30, hoping to ring in the New Year on Red Square, only to discover that it was closed to the public. It has been closed every public holiday this fall and I suspected they might close it last night as well, which is a shame because its Red Square for pity's sake. We didn't bring any champagne down with us because we had heard that it was forbidden, and considered that they frisked us leaving my building to get on to the street, that probably wasn't a bad call. The atmosphere on the street was great - everyone was in a festive mood, cheering the fireworks, setting off fireworks of their own on the street. After exchanging kisses at midnight, we decided to retrieve the champagne from the apartment. I ran back with Steve, promptly falling on my ASS along the way and permanently embedding some Moscow asphalt into the palm of my hand. Ouch! We brought the champagne back out in my thermos and when the militia man asked me what I had "Chai, konechno eto chai!" (I told him it was hot tea - even though it was a balmy 32 degrees on the street!).

After getting back to the celebrations, we decided to try and persuade the line of militia men to let us pass, to just get closer the Red Square. Because there were people on the other side of the line, but I guess they arrived earlier than we did. Let me tell you what, those poor militia boys were unmoved. We tried to cajole, argue and even flirt our way through, but to no avail. Ivan, my target, could not be reasoned with. But I think the whole line thought we were rather more amusing once the six of us broke into probably the world's worst rendetion of Auld Lang Syne (sp?) considering the fact that we didn't know the words! I'm sure that was a sight to behold!

Everyone ended up crashing at my apartment, and thankfully there were just enough spaces in beds for everyone. The last left at about 3pm, and I will spend the rest of the day alternately doing dishes and nursing my hangover.

I'll post some pictures before too long. They're hilarious!

And ironically enough, on Russian TV they are currently showing the animated movie, Anastasia. Jesus.