In poetry club today, Philipp, Sasha and I read a famous little poem by a guy named Федор Иванович Тютчев (Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev). It goes like this:
Умом Россию не понять,
Аршином общим не измерить:
У ней особенная стать -
В Россию можно только верить. And is translated something like this:
Or measure her with a common measure
She has a special figure
It is only possible to believe in Russia.
This poem a pretty famous little guy, and the first line is frequently quoted, especially amongst ex-pats when they can't comprehend how something is works in Russia: "Умом Россию не понять!" Apparently Bryan says it all the time, according to Philipp. So now I know.
So then I had another package at the post office today. I think that everyone who works in the Smolny office thinks I am crazy because I get so much mail. Or maybe that I only know crazy people at home. It's been six weeks and I've already received two package slips, three postcards and two letters. I never realized quite how much all of my family and friends enjoy taking full advantage of the various postal networks of the world.
Anyway, this time I stood in the right line and so I didn't have to wait as long. But when I handed my slip to the woman she flips it over and looks at the back of the form which I had filled out with a green pen and she proceeds to give me a ten minute lecture on how "this isn't a children's school" and how I have to use the same color all around and next time "only blue pen! only blue!" She then grumpily sighs and gets me my package, which was from Nunni, of course, and hands it to me grudgingly. Умом Россию не понять.
And today was a milestone day. I finished filling volume #52, my first journal that I finished in Russia. So, now I begin with volume #53 which is going to take place in my lovely red and gold journal that was a present from Kristina. Don't worry, Erin G, your recycling journal is up next as volume #54. Then I'll have to find a good place in St. Petersburg that sells journals.
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