This is going to be an even longer one.

So, an entry in four parts.


PART ONE: Friday 7/4/08
День рождения Америки..... в России....

I knew Friday was going to be good from the beginning because when I arrived at the Vladimirskaya metro station a train was already there and I walked right on with minimum pushing and when I got to Mayakovskaya I only had to wait maybe a minute and a half and I got on the first train that came because I went to the 3rd door to wait and then I was able to cut by all the people coming off the 1st and 2nd doors and.... this sounds so banal and silly, but these are my little victories as a commuter student in St. Petersburg. Anyway, in summary, I got to school early (!!!) for the first time, instead of arriving exactly at 10am, sweating and rushed.

All day everyone was very excited about it being the 4th of July. When I say everyone, I mean everyone who was not American. In both of my classes we talked more about ways we celebrate the holiday in America and our plans for celebrating it in Russia, and then at lunch they prepared food for us that was reminiscent of an "American summer cook out." We had hamburgers and hot dogs and pasta salad and apple pie and corn on the cob..... except.... not quite. Almost, but not quite. It was American food with Russian flair. For example, the apple pie was actually perog with a really intricate lacework of the crust on top, and the hamburgers were those gray patties that I think are actually made from pork or some other non-beef meat, and the hot dogs (which Noah kept referring to as "жаркие собаки" -- a joke that is only funny to people who study Russian and English) are actually those very long and thin, pale sausages. It was also funny because it was the most stereotypical idea of American food there was, as instead of the juice we have every day we had bottles of Pepsi. Ha. But it was sweet that they made the effort, even though American students who study Russian are generally artsy, liberal, apathetic and not at all Patriotic.

And then because it's gorgeous out, I decided to get off the metro early at the Gostini Dvor stop and walk back home via a new route by the canal. I was on a search for a prop for today's self portrait (you'll see) and had minimal luck with it, but then my out-of-the-way route turned out to show me the best thing ever...... as I approached my apartment from the back entrance instead of my usual way, I noticed a little used bookstore right across the street from the courtyard of my building. Oh. My. God. It's perfect. It's so me. It's.... it's so I don't even know I can't believe I didn't find it earlier, it's just the kind of place I love to find in new cities. To enter the store you walk down about four steps so it is set slightly below street level. It is one room, about 50 square feet total and feels even smaller because the place is crammed with old books. It is also clearly a popular neighborhood shop because it was packed to capacity with shoppers -- about five other people. But the most amazing things about it were the facts that, one, for being so full of books it was the most logically organized bookstore I have been in yet in Russia -- even more so than the big Dom Knigi chains -- and, two, the owner of the bookstore actually asked me if I needed help with anything. I could not believe it. No one who works in a store in Russia actively pursues assisting customers. Maybe if you are proactive and ask them a question they'll answer it half-heartedly, but this woman, clearly the owner of the store, actually asked me if I needed help finding something. So, naturally, I asked her if there were any copies of The Master and Margarita as I have been looking for a Russian copy/replacement, and she seemed genuinely upset to tell me that, alas, no there were not. But then when I went to browse the Russian literature section, right there up front was an old, worn, well-loved hard cover copy of Anna Karenina in Russian. 50r. $2. Done and done. This whole experience made me so happy, if you know me at all you'll know exactly what kind of a great mood I am in right now because of it. Anyway, basically, I have found a new place to browse every day after school. This means I'm going to have about 6,000 pounds of books to ship back to the U.S. next June, but maybe by then I'll be best friends with the owner of the store too, so who cares. I love it.

Then Friday night we had a little ex-pat picnic in that same park near Bryan's apartment. There was the usual group of summer program kids and kids who are still around after doing the spring program and the Russian tutors and then various other friends who tag along. We tried to live up to American stereotypes by playing baseball, eating chips and drinking beer. Except we didn't play baseball, just wiffle ball, and the chips were mushroom flavored (only in Russia, right?) and the beer was pretty non-American as well. There is this crazy place right across the street from the park that has about 20 - 30 different beers on tap, all from little microbrewery places in the area, and you pick which one(s) you want and then they bottle it for you on the spot. So you can get a 0,5 liter bottle, a 1,0 liter or a 1,5 liter, and as we were getting enough beer for everyone to have a taste at least, we got five 1,0 liter bottles that looked like they should hold soda. Only in Russia. But the beer was actually not at all sketchy and pretty good, and we were all even a little louder than usual, further living up to American stereotypes. And then, to complete the stereotypical fourth of July celebration, some people I may or may not know, may or may not have purchased some little fireworks, and they may or may not have set them off in the street outside the park, perfectly legal activity in Russia.


PART TWO: Saturday 7/5/08
Getting to Псков.

Well after our not exactly early night out celebrating our American holiday, Sasha slept over at my apartment as she lives far away in Primorskaya (with Nadejdya! Carly! Sasha knows Simon! I'm going to meet him!) and then we woke up at 6am (ужас!) to get our asses to the Mosckovskaya metro stop where we were meeting the group behind the statue of Lenin to board a bus to Pskov.

The ride there was uneventful. It involved sleeping. A lot of sleeping. And a lot of reading of David Sedaris' new book (oh my god, Dad, it is so good. Have you started it yet?). We arrived in Pskov around 2pm and ate lunch at the hotel and then went on a little walking tour of the city. Pskov is an old little city with its own little Kremlin and a church that is bright turquoise and so naturally quite appealing to my taste. After our tour we had time to ourselves which we, of course, used to eat ice cream outside of the church. Nathan had a bar of ice cream that was orange and mint flavored. Interesting. And then I went back to the hotel to rest a little bit and take a shower and wash my hair with a bar of soap because I forgot my shampoo (it worked pretty well, actually, in case you were wondering).

Saturday night we had dinner as a group in this cafe that is in a mall and oddly set up so we felt like we were in a fishtank or a terrarium. We had a leisurely dinner because all of us felt like we were on a mini vacation which was fun, and then after dinner some of the tutors -- Vika, Liza, Marianna -- took us to a favorite club of theirs right down the street. It was called "R-16" and before we went in, Becky decided to buy a bottle of champagne from the supermarket next door for the group to share and when she opened it there was such a ridiculous out-of-a-movie moment. Becky struggles for a couple seconds working the cork off; she finally gets a hold of it, the cork shoots off, goes up through a tree on the sidewalk, bounces off the window of the car parked below the tree, and the car's alarm goes off. We ran. Clearly.

And the club was fun. We didn't stay super long but it was that typical European club scene -- girls in glittery short shorts and stilettos and a lot of techno music. There was some dancing that I was involved in briefly, but, of course, me being the klutz that I am accidently stepped on the foot of a mildly intoxicated Russian woman who was dancing near me. I apologized in Russia and the woman looks at me, says something along the lines of "now I get to retaliate" in Russian, and then gently but firmly steps on my right foot and then dances away. I enjoyed this moment because a similar thing has happened to me before when dancing in the U.S. Maybe this means I just shouldn't dance in crowded areas.


PART THREE: Sunday 7/6/08
Activities in and around Псков and our return.

So, since the Smolny program is really into waking up early, we were eating breakfast at 9am and on the bus by 10am for today's activities.

The activities began in a bizarre fashion. We picked up a local tour guide and she was talking a lot on the bus and no one was paying attention.... it takes such effort to listen to people speaking Russian and to make an attempt at understanding what they are saying so at 10am on a bus it is very easy to space out instead of listen. So then I noticed the bus is slowing down and the tour guide is saying something and then the bus is stopped by the side of the road next to a field and the tour guide is ushering us all off the bus. So then there are 37 people standing in a field and the bus drives away. I was certain that this was some kind of Pskov-ian hazing or practical joke, but we started walking along a tiny little path in the middle of the field and tried to piece together what the deal was with this field. Someone suggested a battle had been fought there (???) but it just looked like some dude's farm. So we are walking along in the middle of this field, just the people in our group, and then we come over this little hill and all of a sudden we are on the top of this huge shelf of a field that is looking over this huge panoramic, idilyc Russian countryside scene. There also were about six other tour groups up there, which was funny after we were certain we were alone in the middle of the wilderness.

So we wandered a bit and enjoyed Russian nature. The whole experience was reminiscent of my time at Baikal last summer, and it reminded me about this whole other huge part of Russia -- the majority of Russia, in fact -- that is not Petersburg or Moscow or Soviet block apartments and is just beautiful and undeveloped and calming and pristine. I forgot how well I know and love this part of Russia, and it made me excited to travel by train throughout the Russian countryside.

So we wandered and there is also an old white stucco church up on this cliff and behind it is a tiny cemetery. I had one of those typical life affirming moments in the cemetery where I was enjoying how the graves were placed around where the trees had already been growing and I loved how un-conservative and not reserved the bright, plastic flowers were decorating all the tombstones . I also liked how overgrown and natural the cemetery was instead of the crisp, creepily manicured style that is so popular in the U.S. -- you know, enjoying a place full of death also being full of life, right

We went down a little path that was also just like the paths surrounding Baikal -- about 5 inches wide, dusty, rocky and totally precarious -- to the pond and the springs there. The springs at this pond are supposed to have healing and magical properties -- one spring is for love, one is for health, one is for happiness, etc. You're supposed to drink from your spring of choice to help you in that area, but Philip and Hart both said that in the years they did the summer program before everyone who drank from the springs got kind of sick, so I hung back. So much for the "magic water" bringing you health.

And then I was sitting with Louis and some people on a bench by the pond, watching Russians strip down to their underwear and throw themselves into the pond and Louis says, "I think I'm going to go swimming," and then very matter of factly empties his pockets and goes to the little dock in the pond where Emma, Adams and Erika had also decided to go in. Sasha, Grace and I were basically the moms -- Grace held everyone's clothes, I took pictures to remember the occasion, and Sasha yelled at them when they swam out too far. It was fun to watch until Grace accidently dropped Adams' camera into the pond, but even then it was rescued and might, hopefully, maybe, still be okay, we'll see, and the weather was so beautiful nothing could kill our good moods.

We also went on the top of this old fortress or something (my God, I don't understand shit on the tours when they are in Russian and I am happily distracted taking pictures) which had a 360 degree view of all the countryside we had just wandered through and it was pretty awesome. Especially when Adams decided to lay out his wet underwear and camera to dry.

We then came out the other side of the fortress and found the "wilderness" abruptly ended with a parking lot, complete with our bus waiting for us, and about two dozen vendors selling souvenirs. Of course. I was reminded of Puppy's story about his near-religious experience when visiting the monastery in Italy or something and then at the end there is a little table selling plastic figurines of the pope. Kind of ruins the vibe. But I bought these really thick, warm socks there -- they are made from a mix of wool and dog hair, actually. I guess I won't get Mom or Nunni a pair as a souvenir, imagine how much your feet would itch.

After that we went to this monastery and walked around a bit but by that time I was totally out of it and distracted by how the windows on the towers were actually not windows but just painted on, and then after that we had lunch, and by that point no one was even trying to speak in Russian because we were all so tired and giggly.

And after that..... we spent about 6 hours on the bus trying to get back to Petersburg because, of course, there was a three car accident full of glass and smashed bumpers that held everything up. Lame. But over all the weekend was so much fun and it really felt like a mini vacation.


PART FOUR: right now.
I wrote all that last night and just copy and pasted it all into this new post as the internet is down at home and now I am sitting outside my classroom at Smolny because I have class in 8 minutes. Somehow I managed to get here 15 minutes early this morning and all I did was leave 5 minutes earlier than I usually do.... ??? Reminds me of driving on 128 in the morning. Also, I saw a dog wearing a maroon body suit while walking down the 8th line. Really, a full body suit.