Men's Day

This weekend was pretty crazy.
The 23 of February is a holiday that in concept is like America's Veteran's Day, but in practice is Men's Day. Because almost every Russian man was in the military he has the right on this day to do whatever he pleases.
"Really?" you might ask, "Isn't every day Men's Day in Russia, Nicole?"
I would tend to agree, but according to Soviet-instilled tradition, there must be a day when men can feel extra comfortable having their way.
My Grand Man Day began when I decided to meet my friend Emily at Gostiny Dvor metro in Downtown Petersburg. I was a little early and she was a little late, so I was waiting outside for awhile when suddenly I heard a megaphone and saw the majority of people scramble away from the area, so I decided to go inside to wait for Emily.
When Emily got there we decided to get out of the way as soon as possible, which meant we darted off without really knowing where we were going. On our walk we realized that Militsia (Russian police) were everywhere, including OMAN, the scariest of the Militsia, with their giant scarier-than-paddywagon trucks.
So... we kept moving and ended up in front of the Church of the Savior on Spilled Blood, so we went inside.
The rest of my day was pretty normal, but the night was slightly strange. Men's Day is known as one of the most dangerous nights of the year, and I was set to be extremely careful when I went out with friends. When it was time to eat dinner, my host mom asked me if I wanted to drink beer, and I said, "No thanks you" but in Russian. Then, when her boyfriend came in the room he asked her if I was drinking and she said, "I asked her, she said no." In response, he asks me again, and when I repeat, "No thank you," he responds, "Why not? It's my day, and you won't drink with me?" So, as you can probably guess, my next response was,"Okay, I can."
An hour later I set off to meet my friends outside a metro station downtown. I was walking in the back of the group, and after only a few paces a guy reaches around my waist and pulls me backwards. I elbowed him in the stomach and ran away without looking back.
Then, while dancing at the Castro-Themed club Fidel I kept awkwardly avoiding a Russian guy who was whispering in my ear. When it was time to leave, two Moroccan guys who had apparently fallen in love with two of my friends followed us out so we chatted until we could get them to stay behind as we walked home.

I realize that everything sounds less exciting as a blog and I've lost the drive to write about Sunday, which wasn't as interesting.

So… it’s official. I’m homesick. And I feel guilty about it.

I’m not homesick for important reasons at all. I could forgive myself for being homesick because I miss family and friends, and even though I do miss everyone, that isn’t the cause of my blues. My homesickness is also not caused by patriotism, politics, the weather (it’s unusually warm and sunny here) or any academic or rational reason. I’m homesick because I want to watch “Jon and Kate Plus 8” and “To Catch a Thief” in my bed made up with my flannel sheets, make myself dinner with my George Foreman, take a nice temperature-stable shower that doesn’t come from a hose, and then buy an Izze soda at Target with my Chase Visa, or better yet with a $20 and no change… Oh, and take a nice stroll outside without being overwhelmed by car fumes and cigarette smoke.

Although I am obviously learning some Russian, I’m not learning as much as fast as I’d wanted to. I have also learned that unless I live here for an entire year (which I don’t want to do), I will most likely never be fluent and I am certain that my future career will not extensively involve the Russian language. I have also learned I don’t like living in the city. I’ve known at heart I was a suburban girl, but I’ve always thought everyone should live in a big city for at least a portion of their life… I now think 4 months might just be enough time for that.

I’ve also realized even more how important food is to me. (Hey, I am the one who oddly said “cooking is my life,” when I was like 7.) Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m sure I don’t want to work in a restaurant or be a chef, but I really, really miss cooking. Even improvisational dorm room cooking sounds amazing right now. I’ve never manage to appreciate how diverse American cuisine is until I got here. Although the food I get at home is delicious, I really miss having tacos one night and spaghetti the next. I realize that my normal food is only a watered-down version of whatever ethnic food it was inspired by, but Russian food is pretty limited. Although there are nice ethnic restaurants, (that are very different from their American counterparts… and I feel in my heart that ours are somehow more authentic…) eating out is generally more expensive in Russia and it isn’t normal to eat out unless it is someone’s birthday.

One thing that I don’t have to miss is reading, although I’ve purposely been reading really slowly so that I don’t run out of English materials. I can buy English literature here, but I’m trying hard not to buy money on things that I don’t need, can’t take with me, or eat.

I just bought my second bag-lady purse because my first one broke. I feel that large purses are the best way to conceal my laptop, but they are expensive and my first one already has a broken handle. This time I decided to buy one for almost twice the price of the first, but I still couldn’t bring myself to spend enough to be sure that it wouldn’t break (it would have to be all real leather…). Keep your fingers crossed for my new bag – I’m going to go write myself up a budget for the rest of my time here.

Snow and Tongue and Such

I think I just ate tongue for lunch. I could only eat like half of it; because it creeped me out a bit. I got it at school, not at home. So far everything Olga's made has been delicious.
I think I might turn purple or pink from beets, however...

The Hermitage is amazing. I went exactly a week ago. The entirety of it really is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I ended up separating from the group and I took (literally) hundreds of pictures – mostly of the building itself, but also many of the Greco-Roman statues. The fact that the royalty of Peter were always obsessed with the West is displayed in the fact that the Hermitage lacks solid collections from the East; but regardless I think that everyone should visit at some point in their lives. I never even made it to the 3^rd floor of the Hermitage, where many of the most famous paintings are located; I will definitely go back before I leave.

I have set my blog so that people can respond to posts now without a Google account.

I really can't think of anything to write, but I will try later.