the death train to st. petersburg...or "chelovek!"

I live in St. Petersburg now. I am never using the train to move again. Ever.

Where to start? I spent my last day in Moscow quite happily. I recovered quickly from my party, and on Sunday morning I got up and went snow shoeing in Izmailovskii park with Alana. She wanted to come and document the event. It was great because there was about 2 feet of fresh snow and it was just....beautiful. Alana got some great pictures, including one of me doing a face-plant in the snow while trying trun with snow shoes on. But that's on film so you'll have to wait to see that one. She even tried them out.

After that we went to Red Square because I wanted her (being a photographer and all) to take a good picture of me for my parents, because all they want in life is a decent picture of me with St. Basil's in the background. We decided to do a themed picture, with the snowshoes. So we got to Red Square, I put them on, got out my poles (thanks again mom and dad!) and climbed up a snow drift and posed like it was Mt. Everest. I couldn't believe that I was doing it (and that Alana almost got hit by a snow plow - twice). Most of the pics are on her camera but she got a good one of mine that I'll post the link to soon. It was hilarious! When I got home, my mom called and asked "are you all packed" and I informed her that I hadn't even started!

So I spent the rest of the afternoon making some tough decisions about what to take with me and what to leave behind. Snow shoes came with, yoga mat stayed. Trail shoes stayed, ski pants came, etc. How did I get all this stuff??????? I mean, where the hell did it come from?

Dave came over for dinner before we left for the train, and Alana was so sweet because she went out and brought back sushi for dinner! So I finally had sushi in Moscow, although the Russians even insist on using mayonaise on their darn sushi. I tell you. My ride came and 11 and we all piled into the car. Of course Dave's back was hurting him, so I still carried most of my stuff. He was still helpful though.

We were travelling 3rd class (or hard class) because I am cheap, and who can pass up a $17 train ticket? We were at the end of the wagon with another woman and this guy, Sergei, who offered Dave one of his many beers. Sergei's friend, Sergei, who was in another wagon came and sat with us and they tried to make conversation. I was tired and Sergei #1 was so drunk and his accent was really heavy (not from Moscow) that I couldn't really understand him. I did understand the part when he said that America has no culture. Go figure. I go and pay 120 rubles for my sheets and Dave's, come back, make the beds (during which drunk Sergei spills beer on me, my coat and my pillow), go to bed. I had the bottom bunk, Dave was above me, and Sergei #1 was in the upper bunk across from me. It was hard for me to fall asleep, but eventally I did (I mean, we had vodka and wine before leaving for the train station, so I needed to sleep that off). At some point in time I wake up. I'm not sure if it was the loud "THUD" that woke me up or the fact that there was suddenly someone else in my bed with me. I was really disoriented and confused, and apparently the only thing I was able to say was "chelovek, chelovek, chelovek." In Russian this means "person". It was drunk Sergei who fell out of his bed, hit the table on the way down and landed in my bunk. He was not, however awake, so despite the calls of "chelovek," he wasn't going anywhere. Dave was awake, climbed down and I realized it was drunk Sergei, who I pushed out of my bed onto the floor. He remained unconscious. Incidentally, NONE of the other people around us, including the woman on the other lower bunk did anything. We keep trying to wake Sergei up, but he won't. Dave and I try to lift him into my bunk, but we can't. Eventually he stirs and stumbles into the bathroom. Dave and I assume that whenever he comes back, he will probably try to sleep in my bunk again, so I climb into Sergei's. So I end up on the top bunk (which I hate, its oppressively hot up there) with no sheets or pillowcase while drunk Sergei will get mine. Dave is across from me and he occasionally bursts into giggles, repeating "chelovek, chelovek" and finds this very funny.

When the lights come on in the morning, Sergei is indeed passed out on my bunk and remains so until about 5 minutes for the train stops. He apologizes to everyone else in the cabin except for me. He also refuses to move until everyone else is off the train (my bags were under the bunk and we couldn't get to them). So Dave and I are last off the train and I officially feel like ass for lack of sleep. It was so hot in the train that at one point in time, I went out to where the doors are and the floor and walls are covered in ice and snow. I take some of the snow and rub it on my face and neck to cool down.

Marina meets us and St. Petes is in the middle of a blizzard that is crippling much of north western Russia. We hire a sketchy cab and manage to cram all 3 of us and my stuff in it and head off.

But I have to say that although I now live in a crazy house, its great. Marina has a really nice apartment, that is half-way rennovated on Vasily Island. The building is from the 1870s I think. Maybe earlier. Its big, has high ceilings, and as Dave said, its the most "normal" looking apartment he's ever seen in Russia. There is also a tom cat named "Mur" who likes to piss on everything, and a talking parrot named Richie who speaks Russian almost as well as I do. Marina has 2 daughters, Sasha, who is 9 and Alina who is 20. Both are awesome. Alina speaks English well and I will be her native-speaker practice, and I'll be helping Sasha with her English homework and talking with her in English some as well.

I spent yesterday getting settled while Dave went to visit some relatives, and got to know Marina and her family a little better. I could not have ended up in a more perfect place. Marina's husband - who doesn't live with us, long story - is a competitive rock climber and alpinist. Some years ago he and Marina summited Mt. McKinley in Alaska and they've trekked through Nepal and India and other places. Alina used to climb but now she snowboards. They even have climing holds in their hallway! Sasha is a crazy 9 year old, but really sweet. And after Jack, I've got 9 year olds mastered. We all had dinner at home last night and I think Dave may have been traumatized by it all and will enjoy going back to his calm Moscow apartment. Anyway, I think they'll be a lot of fun and I don't anticipate having a bored moment here in Petersburg.

The next few days I'll be ordering documents and getting the archive process here rolling. They have dial-up at home, and I don't know how that will work with posting pictures and stuff, so I'll probably be a little less in touch, but I'll keep up.

Address and phone number info to come soon.