Thanks Russia, it’s been real.

Ok first of all I would sincerely like to apologize for not having updated my blog in about a month or so. It’s not that I haven’t done anything cool, I just kind of forgot about my blog. How could you forget about a blog? You can. It’s possible. Russia has become so much like home, and I live like a regular ol’ student that I forgot that I was really on a study abroad capital T Trip. You know what I am saying? Anyway, I present my apology and I hope you accept it.

I have four days left in Mother Russia, and let me tell you… it can only be described as bittersweet. I am so incredibly pumped to go back to the great U.S. of A. and drink endless amounts of coffee in a thermos that I can transport ANYWHERE I choose. I mean, I am going to sweat brown and it’s going to be AWESOME. I am also so jazzed to sing at the top of my lungs (Celine Dion: It’s All Coming Back to Me), high kick, smile at every stranger and ask with overenthusiastic friendliness how their day is going. I am excited to put ICE CUBES in my FRESH water from the TAP. I am excited to go back to The Hill and hug all of my wonderful friends who I miss so dearly. AND I’ll see my sister bear, mom, and pops and have some Berg family banter that’s always hilarious, and my dad and I will watch The Godfather and talk about how great it is. WHAT DID YOU GO TO COLLEGE TO GET STUPID? It’s our favorite line. Yeah, the Bergs are pretty great.

BUT…..but.

I am so incredibly sad to leave Russia. I cannot express how thankful and appreciative I am for my parents allowing me to come here, and my Russian family for not only taking me in, but being THE BEST FAMILY IN THE WORLD. They have truly been my home away from home, and they have so profoundly impacted my life and my experience in Russia. I actually could not have asked for a more generous, humorous, and loving family. It actually brings me to tears writing this because I can’t imagine leaving them. BLURGHH. My host father left on Friday morning to visit his mother in Kirov (it’s FAAAARRRRR away) and he said goodbye to me Thursday evening. He said such kind words and did the usual kiss three times Russian tradition and I was like hold it together hold it together hold it togetherrrrrrr. It helped that he was wearing a red and black striped velvet robe to ease my sadness. I mean, if he had a cigar I would have said he was Hugh Hefner.

But seriously, I love my host family. My host mom is a definite STRONG woman, who is a crazy awesome knitter and cook. She is short but let me tell you, she’s a mighty force. She is so opinionated and head strong, but she always does what is best for the family. She also speaks German, Russian, and quite a bit of English. Baller. My host dad is hilarious, and incredibly hard working. He also really really loves his mom. He calls her every single night at 9 p.m. and would do just about anything in the world for her. It’s adorable. ALSO, we were looking through old family photos, and my host dad was a dead ringer for Robert De Niro when he was young. I mean watch Godfather II and there’s my host dad. It’s eerie how much they looked a like back in the day. And then there’s Natasha. Wicked smart and incredibly literary, she has become a very dear friend of mine here. She is hilaaaahhhrious, and we share a brain wavelength on just about everything. I value all of our conversations and hours spent watching Eddie Izzard. I vow on this day to visit them again, and I will undoubtedly keep in touch. I would actually have a car wash in order to raise money for them to visit me in America. Not a joke.

Well classes are over, and boy let me tell you that I am GLAD. It wasn’t the teachers because they were always great, but taking four hours of the same subject every day for four months can foster a lot of monotony. I definitely feel that I improved a great deal, although my grammar is almost offensively bad. I struggle greatly with grammar and verbs of motion. Did you know that the prefix pro- in Russian has 13 different meanings? YEAH, I KNOW. I can read fairly well and my listening comprehension is about 293659328 times better than it was in September. I remember if my mom asked me anything I would just say what? Excuse me? One more time? Wait, one more time? Oh yeah sure, I can eat now.

I have had such an incredible experience in Russia. I love this country and the people, and if I ever master my mother’s borsch recipe I will die a happy person. I am not sure how I will survive in America without eating Russian soup, but I’ll manage somehow. So really this post is a big THANK YOU. I am so fortunate to have had this opportunity, and I am deeply grateful. I already know I am going to cry like crazy on Wednesday, but I can’t wait to see my friends and family. And get a cup of coffee. 🙂

 

So for the last time, STEY GOLD BROOKLYN ZOO.

Russian TV…huh.

There is really no other way of saying it: Russian television is WEIRD. Every day I come home from school and watch the same two shows right in a row. They have taught me a lot of Russian, and a lot about life. For instance, I don’t want a bleached mullet or poke anyone’s eye out with a pool stick.

How about we begin with my personal favorite, “Let’s Get Married!” Alright. I know what you’re thinking. Lindsay, you ask, why would you ever waste precious moments of your life watching such a horribly offensive show? I’ll tell you why. I watch it for these two reasons: 1) The ridiculous “talents” the woman perform on the show.  2) MamaTanya’s comments. Allow me to further delve and expand upon my reasoning for watching such a terrible show. First of all it’s not nearly as bad as America’s Next Top Model, because no one is telling a woman to “smile with her eyes” or look like “a cheetah with a secret.” Tell me, what does that look like? Oh that’s right it’s NOT POSSIBLE. Would you really like me to impersonate a cheetah, Tyra? Is that what you are really asking me to do? Humans and cheetahs are oh I don’t know…TWO DIFFERENT SPECIES. Anyway, I am not going to even start about T-Banks because it unleashes an ugly fiery rage within me that only few people are able to see. Moving on.

So, I will give you the premise for the show: A mid thirties to late fifties man who is semi-rich  searches for a young Russian lady who in turn, is looking for “intelligence” and “quality education” in a man, a.k.a MONEY.  There are three female candidates, who bring their friends along to not only judge the man, but the other ladies as well. (GREAT!) The man interviews the woman and they ask ridiculous and invasive questions about her love history and what she’s interested in and what she does and blah blah blaaaaaaah. (p.s. the show also has a woman candidate and three male love interests version as well). They start the interview with glamour shots where they are On the Beach! Holding an Umbrella! Playing With a Puppy! you know…what you usually would do to increase your sex appeal. Anyway, post interview they show a little talent. Ok FAVORITE PART HERE. Some women dance a little (I would totally win: me+no shame= great dancing), others sing (typically half a pop song then the host interrupts), and you know…anything to showcase what they find to be intriguing about themselves. My personal favorite was this particular gem of a talent: Drawing on an acrylic bear with sharpies and putting dollar store Mardi Gras necklaces around said acrylic bear’s neck. Huh. Now  correct me if I’m wrong, but I just don’t really see what “talent” this woman is exhibiting here. I mean, if she crafted the bear with her acrylic bear crafting set…that could be worthy. Or if she drew a caricature of the guy on the bear in under 30 seconds THAT would be cool…I mean that’s hard! But no. Just some doodles on a plastic bear. I couldn’t think of ANYTHING that I was good at, so all I could muster was buying a toy and drawing on it. Woooooooow.

So my host mom has some OPINIONS about the women on this show. After the aforementioned bear talent, my mom just rolled her eyes and said “God, it’s just like kindergarten.” She will often say “Oooh, she’s stupid.” “What’s she wearing, a NIGHTIE?” Or “ugh, she’s so cheap.” She does not particularly favor blondes, or short hair, especially blondes with short hair. Chances are, you’re a prostitute. She makes me pee my pants laughing, because she’s really the nicest woman in the world, but when it comes to hair everything is black and white. She also has a personal vendetta against Marilyn Monroe.I mean, don’t we all?

Side note: I have learned the Russian moms really stick to their guns, and they are ALWAYS right. Yesterday my PapaMisha had a stomachache because he ate too much salted fish (happens all the time, right?) and she was like “most of the time, we’re upset because it’s our OWN fault.”  I agreed, of course. Tonight when my dad was eating dinner, she was like you don’t get any meat and potatoes…EAT SLOWLY!! Needless to say, he silently obliged.

I also watch a lot of Russian Judge Judy. It’s not actually called that, but it’s the equivalent. Tonight I got to watch an episode where a guy looked like he soaked his teeth in iced tea then chiseled them to dull cubes. He unfortunately got his eye gouged out by a pool stick in a seemingly intense game of billiards. There was a fiancee, the mafia, and a housekeeper involved in some way, and he literally got the short end of the stick in that situation (ooooh yikes that was an uncouth joke). I personally like the judges on the show. There’s a woman who always looks like she’s wearing a fur hat…but it’s actually her hair. It’s beyond the normal level of shine and it’s long and spiky in the front, and ink black. I mean, she has to polish it. Or maybe she has hair plugs? Or MAYBE she is wearing a hat and fooling us all. Neat trick, huh? The other judge has long flowing locks and speaks so smugly he is almost constantly snarling his lip (nod to Celine Dion) and flaring his nostrils. It’s an amazing feat, really. Anyway, I am like look, I get it. You have nice hair that’s all kinds of wavy and lustrous and flows in the wind but you’re no Michael Bolton, ok? Ok.

What are some awesomely bad shows YOU watch? I have seen an absurd amount of VH1 countdowns. I mean Top 100 Reality TV moments of ALL TIME? That’s four hours I will never get back.

It’s weird to think about, but I will be stateside in 5 weeks from Sunday. Whoa! It’s crazy. I will tell you all something right now. As soon as I land, I am going to get the biggest cup of coffee I can possibly buy, I’m going to drink it, then I am going to immediately buy another one. Mark my words. Mark. My. Words. Then, when I start sweating through my parka you’ll know that I accomplished my caffeine dream. Then after I sweat through my parka, I am going to get a glass of water, FROM THE TAP, and put 23958203 ice cubes in it. Dream come true.

Alright, it’s time for me to catch the “Extrasenses” show where they challenge people who claim they have ESP. Yeah…I know. It’s real. Ok I’m out. STEY GOLD BROOKLYN ZOO.

Russian Transportation: The Good, The Bad, The Sometimes Ugly but Mostly Frightening

So in my previous post about my travels, I mentioned the trains. Although I appreciate their efficiency, the stuffiness is similar to trying to breathe in a giant milkshake. You have to swim through the air in order to make a momentary pocket of air in which you can breathe. I must admit this is not very conducive to a comfortable ride. You know what else is hot? The freaking marshruts (mar ssshhhh rooots) which is highly difficult to pronounce and you literally have to move your head and sound like a baby alien in order to say it correctly. In Russian the “r” is usually rolled, not like a sassy Spanish “r,” but a little more harsh. It is literally the most DIFFICULT and RIDICULOUS word to say. I challenge you to roll two “r’s” and stick a “sh” in between. The second “r” literally gets lost in my throat somewhere and it never comes out. “Ummmmm see you later I don’t go here” the letter says. So I usually just say it like a hillbilly and don’t roll them. Better than sounding like a baby alien, I say.

Enough of that. I will tell you about my very special experience on the marshrut one day. I will say now that I have a tendency to get motion sickness…nothing CRAZY like barfing at every stop sign or anything but I would really prefer to ride with someone who is capable of driving, and I know they received some sort of education about vehicle safety. Reasonable, right? Right??! Well in Russia, I am guaranteed neither of those things. I mean I guess they have some sort of training but judging by the way they operate a moving vehicle that holds the safety and protection of human being’s lives, I am really not so certain.

So I am on this marshrut right, going to the city, and I hand the driver the money and he is like flibbityshneewiggleblop and I’m like oohhhh cool yeah that’s awesome whatever and we sit down. So we were going the LONG way to the city it turns out. I was wedged in the back of the bus between two rather large Georgian dudes. First of all, the back of the bus may be for cool kids, but if you get motion sickness it’s a recipe for BARFARONI. All the bumps and rivets and rivulets and potholes and small animals and trash are all felt in the back of the bus. Anyway, I am not exactly a tiny person, and the mini van things are not exactly how do you say…spacious. So I am literally wedged in between these two dudes, my shoulders are cowed and my arms are clinched in between my knees as to prevent my arms accidentally resting on the legs of the Georgians, and luckily the driver clearly has zero ability to drive a stick shift. Stop. Lurch. Lurch. Stop…STOP. Livi was standing and Lydia and I were sitting across from one another.We alllllll knew this was going to be a lucky day if we make it to the city. Not only were we on The Little Bus that Couldn’t, but it was also 98236593285 degrees in there. I mean, milkshake air hot. I couldn’t crunch my body any smaller, and the Georgians seemed to be encroaching even more on my space and I was sweating all over creation and I had two options to get out of my unfortunate position: Vom everywhere or do a somersault into the aisle due to the constant stopping and lurching. I was looking around, hoping to find sympathy in another passenger’s eyes. Crazy, right? You’re going to thunder chunder rainbow parfait too, right? Nope. Everyone is wearing leather jackets and scarves and sitting there like we were watching the Sunday game in our recliners eating some snacklets. Wow, that to me proved that I will never EVER be as intensely committed to stoicism as Russians. Sincerely impressive. Anyway, we made it without yacking up all of our organs. THEN a random man tried to buy Livi’s soda. Excuse me, can I buy your soda that you have taken one sip out of? WEIRD.Why don’t you just buy your own new one that someone didn’t drink out of? SOLUTION.

So really I just wanted everyone to know about this particular experience. It is a short post since I wrote a novel on the last one, but I will be sharing quips and anecdotes throughout the weekend as I reflect upon my travels. Tomorrow Russia has a holiday that Putin made up! Isn’t that cool? Could you imagine having the power to make up a holiday? If I could create a holiday it would be one of two options: Lady Gaga Day where everyone has to dress like her and wear as much glittery over the top things as humanly possible, and whoever doesn’t HAS TO GO INTO WORK OR SCHOOL. Even if you don’t work or go to school. You have to take a class about something boring, like accounting or math. My second option is COFFEEE DAY! which is where you drink as much coffee as you possibly can and whoever drinks over a certain amount of cups gets free coffee for a year. Good coffee, not like instant poison coffee which is really just burnt popcorn in a jar.

Anyway, I hope everyone appreciates good driving in America and celebrates the holiday that isn’t real tomorrow! STEY GOLD BROOKLYN ZOO.

I MADE IT!

My dearest devoted readers,

I want to sincerely apologize for not updating my blog in quite some time, but I have been traveling around Russia for the past couple of weeks. It feels like I have been gone a billion shnillion years, and let’s just say I am quite happy to be home with MamaTanya, PapaMisha, and Natasha. It’s been a whirlwind of the last couple of weeks, so I apologize ahead of time that this will be a loooooooooong entry. You know what, I DON’T APOLOGIZE, because you should be excited about Russia because it’s the BEST.

So first off, went to Moscow. Took the night train from Novgorod and let me tell you something about Russian trains. THEY ARE FREAKING HOT. I literally do not understand why you would deliberately choose to make everyone suffer in clammy humidity and then offer HOT BEVERAGES. Yeah, it doesn’t make any sense. Disclaimer: I really hate hot weather, and being too warm makes me reaaaaaaaallly cranky bears. It’s almost like if I went without coffee…almost. Ok so we finally made it to Moscow. YALLA! Let me tell you what, Moscow is rollin’ in the crispy benjamins. The cars in the parking spaces go something like this: Bentley, Mercedes, Audi, Bentley, Bentley, Bentley. No Ford Windstars or Sunfires here. Oh yeah, after I double park my car on the sidewalk (???!!!!) I am just going to pop into Yves Saint Laurent to pick up some velvet pants covered in gold and diamonds. Seriously, Moscow is BANK.

The coolest part of Moscow was definitely the hostel. You’re like ummmm cheeelllooo what did you see what did you where did you go??? But in my opinion, I love meeting the people who are traveling. I met some really freaking awesome New Yorkers who made me pee my pants laughing, some Texans (hey y’all!) who were traveling around the world for a YEAR, Argentinians, sassy Italians, and some really crazy awesome Danish dudes. I love how traveling allows you to meet the most fascinating people, who do the most fascinating things. The Texas couple sold their business and decided to travel around the world. UMMMM COOOL. A couple from Britain were doing the entire Trans Siberian Railroad. Danes had some school money and decided to go to Russia. SO great!

Side Note and Lesson Learned: Being from Texas is very cool. I never thought I would say that, but being from Texas = automatic friendship with a Russian. Every time I have told anyone I’m from Texas, there is usually one or a combination of these actions:

Cowboys!

Ranch!

John Wayne!

Chuck Norris!

Horses!

I usually am like oh yeah I live on a ranch and ride my horse to school and my uncle is Chuck Norris and I grew up with John Wayne!!!!!! Texas is a VERY recognizable state and they are very very pumped about westerns. They usually say “take me to Texas” or “I want to visit you in Texas” and I want to say that YOU KNOW JOHN WAYNE IS DEAD RIGHT?? I would shake them and say IT’S NOT WHAT IT SEEMS!!  But I wouldn’t want to crush anyone’s dreams.

So all in all, Moscow was pretty baller. We then voyaged onto Sochi, a much calmer and quieter place than Moscow. But we had to get there.

Another thing about Russian trains, they don’t announce where you are. You would think that would be oh I don’t know…NECESSARY. Am I really just supposed to sense where I am? Ah yesssss, we are definitely in Suzdal…oh wait we are somewhere totally DIFFERENT. Due to the lack of announcements, we had no idea if we were in Sochi or not. But they will let you know when the TRAIN IS MOVING AND THEY ARE YELLING AT YOU TO JUMP OFF. Literally, that’s what happened.

“Ummmm, excuse me are we in Sochi?”

“YES YES YES YOU IDIOT GET OFF THE TRAIN!!!!!!! HURRY HURRY HURRRRRYYY!”

“Oh would you like me to hurry? Because I think I’m going to make a sandwich now that you have given me AMPLE TIME TO GET OFF THE TRAIN!!!!!!”

Yeah, had to get off a moving train. Neat! Also, our hostel was in Adler, a town just outside of Sochi. Neighbors, really. Could we walk there? Noooo. Could we take public transportation? No idea…how far away is it? Hmmmmm…again, no idea. So we take a taxi. Guess how much the taxi ride cost? Guess. I mean really, if you think it’s 30, 40, even 75 dollars you are wrong. 100 DOLLARS. Not a joke. We made it though after walking into some woman’s house. That was weird. Ummm are you a hostel? I DO BEG YOUR PARDON? Hahahaaa wouldn’t that be weird if some rando walked to your HOME and wondered if you had rooms for rent? Anywho, the lady was super cool and helped us find where we were actually staying…not in her house.

Let me say a thing or two about Adler. Adler is the BOMB DIGGITY. They are not like your common Russians. They are smiley, friendly, and very pumped that you are visiting. We made so many friends in our neighborhood. We bought some tacky touristy shirts that everyone wore, which was pretty great because I look straight out of 1987 when I wear it. Also, street vendors sell some WEIRD CRAP. We saw these crazy hats that looked like felt bells (yes, like ring a ding ding bells) with awful embroidering on them. They were off white and it looked like someone closed a four year old’s eyes and told them to stitch whatever they wanted onto it. Huge loopy stitching that was crooked and sloped and I HAVE NO IDEA WHO WOULD BUY THEM. Hey Lindsay, what did you get in Sochi? This giant bell hat with horrible stitching that a baby monkey without thumbs did! Cool, huh? NO. I also had the choice to buy from a broad selection of sparkly tube tops. This is especially funny to me because I always say that I would wear a sparkly tube top to the club as a joke. Number one, I don’t go to the club. Number two, you would have to tranquilize me before I wore a sparkly tube top in private, let alone in public. There was one that was just oh so tempting…a giant purple sequined spider tube top!!!!! I literally almost bought it because it was just too funny. Can you imagine seriously purchasing that top and believing in your heart of hearts it was fashionable or even reasonable? If you bought it and knew it was ridiculous, that’s cool. Like the Twilight series. If you accept that it’s not high literature and that sparkly vampires is OUTRAGEOUS, then it’s ok. You know what I mean?

So our time in Sochi drew to a close, we hopped back on the billion degree train (why Russia, why?) and finally made it back to our old stomping grounds in Novgorod. After two days on a train I was definitely glad to see my host family and my bed. I was like I AM SO HAPPY TO BE HOME! I showered, brushed my teeth, gave my gifts to my host fam, ate something other than bread and cheese, emailed my loved ones, and here we are, up to speed. Classes start tomorrow, and a new month!

Everyone who made it this far in the post, a pat on the back! I must say there should be segments of this trip, but this was the summary. I will update soon!

Stey Gold Brooklyn Zoo.

P.S. Side Note and Lessons Learned:

An all dairy diet is a bad idea.

Don’t take a taxi from Sochi to Adler…it’s EXPENSIVE.

Bring a portable fan or go naked on Russian trains, those are the only two options for staying cool.

I need to get a raincoat when I go home, and rain boots. There is a reason why they were made. Packing soggy jeans = janknasty. Walking into McDonald’s after it appears someone dumped 435692350 buckets of water on you = weird stares.

Moscow and Sochi, hot diggity dang!

I would just like to start out this post by saying that our cat Mousya poops right in front of my door every single day. Every. Single. Day. She is about 9465293 years old, and has survived death…TWICE. I think she’s immortal. Like in Hocus Pocus! Dang, I LOVE that movie. Anyway, I think she knows I’m a newcomer, and is simply prankin on the American. She schemes and senses when I will be home…and POOPS.

Moving on, I am going on my two week trip to Moscow and Sochi! I am super pumped, and I’m just getting my ducks in a row before I depart on my adventure. Fresh undies, toothpaste, PASSPORT, a good book, contact info, and so on and so forth. I know I’m going to forget something really major, but I am paranoid about my passport and wallet so I always know where those rather crucial things are. ALWAYS. My hands are like talons around them constantly.

There are a hundred zillion million things to do in Moscow, but I really want to see the Kremlin, St. Basil’s Cathedral, and Gorky Park. I am hoping to see Putin in Moscow, but that’s doubtful because he’s probably hunting whales on horseback with Medvedev. Alas, one day we shall meet. I already know my conversation starter: “Hey, Putin! Your birthday is the day before mine, isn’t that cool?” I think he’ll go for it. It’s destiny I tell you, destiny.

Also, Sochi is hosting the OLYMPICS! They already have a countdown on their website. It’s only 8327629983633 days until the Olympics! Maybe I’ll get a really glitzy Russian tracksuit or something. People wear those here on the real though, I’m always like DANG they must be in training for something because they are so HARDCORE. I think Sochi will be nice after hitting Moscow hard and fast with all the touristy museum adventures. I am hoping to soak in the beauty of Sochi. Look it up, Putin used to vacation there. (DUH)

You know, I’m really going to miss my Russian family. They seriously are just the greatest people ever. Here’s a little snippet of last night’s dinner (We always watch the Russian equivalent of Judge Judy and a crime show for some reason):

MamaTanya: Stop eating butter right now! YOU CAN’T EAT BUTTER IN THE EVENING!!!

PapaMisha: Continues to spread butter regardless.

MamaTanya: Does your father eat butter in the evenings???

Me: Ummmm….never?

MamaTanya: Hmm. That’s healthy.

Man, they make me laugh so hard! I’ll miss them during the next couple of weeks, but when I get back my Russian mom is teaching me how to cook Russian food. Can we just say that I am jaaaazzzzed. I’m telling you I’m going to leave all of my things here and pack my suitcase with Russian juice and chocolates. Who wants to buy clothes when you can spend your money on pumpkin juice (yeah…it’s REAL) and cherry juice? Riddle.

All in all, I have major love for Russia. Hopefully nothing will poop in front of my door during the next couple of weeks, and there will be an abundance of pumpkin juice. Because I feel like I’m in Harry Potter when I drink it, and I constantly want to believe that I’m magical. I know I know, an unworthy pursuit. WHATEVER.

Ok, I’m out. STEY GOLD BROOKLYN ZOO.

 

Dear Russia, thanks for being BALLER

So, it has been some time since I have last posted. A week? Maybe more? Wait no longer! I have much to say about my recent travels and experiences, too much…probably.

Let’s start with MY BIRTHDAY! So I am finally 15 everyone! Just kidding, I am 21. It’s a frequent joke among my friends because I am always the youngest, and I don’t have a license either. Anyway, it’s Friday, and I’m pumped for the day because my journey to St. Petersburg!!!!! Per usual I have my breakfast laid out on the table because my family is the BEST EVER, and I have some prezzies on the table. They also gave me a card that wished me love and happiness and all that jazz and signed it by saying, “We wish you the best of the best, your Russian family! Alright, so that was already enough to make me feel all mushy and whatnot, but then they gave me some crazy delicious chocolates (Russian chocolate > all things created by man) and they gave me silver earrings and a matching necklace! I mean, it’s NICE jewelry. Not only did my family remember my birthday, but they also took time to give me a card, lovely chocolates, and beautiful jewelry. I couldn’t believe the time and effort they put in to their host daughter’s birthday. Nicest people in the world, I swear. It was just too much kindness for me to handle, you know?

I went to St.Petersburg for my birthday. Let me tell you, it was one for the books. We took this 15 passenger bus/van vehicle to StP, and let me just say that Russians drive as if someone let three wild ferrets go in their pants. Also, the roads are filled with holes and rivets and cracks and I would venture to say I’ve seen a ravine or two. I mean, it’s basically a recipe to puke everywhere. It typically takes three hours to get to StP, but it only took us two….AND we had a ten minute stop. Yikesss.

So we arrive. Hmmm….where are we? Is our hostel that direction? That way? No that way. I believe it’s over there. No, over there. Wait where? Here? No. WHERE? I DON’T KNOW WHEREEEEE??!!!! Mind you, I was about to pee all over myself when we arrived. Let’s fast forward two hours, after 475623 phone calls to our hostel, many hang ups, wrong turns, ruined feet, and a very very full bladder. We’re tired, a touch cranky, and I desperately need to pee. The woman we talked to tells us we have a reservation for the 9th, not the 8th. FALSE. Livi asked who she talked to on the phone…and you know what they said? They said they didn’t have a phone. As matter of fact as if I said I was wearing a blue sweater. Oh excuse me…I didn’t know we were communicating by CARRIER PIGEON THIS WHOLE TIME. Anyway, she tells us that it’s only a ten minute walk to our new hostel (again, FALSE), so we leave and finally make it to our new hostel. Great people, and a hippie Russian runs the place. He was wearing a rainbow pullover and some carpet pants, topped with a very disheveled goatee. Lovely dude, and quite funny. I asked him for extra towels, and he was just like huh….What is towel? What do you do with a towel….? Anyway, Lydia remembered towel in Russian and the problem was solved.

Saturday, we go to the Hermitage. HOT DAAANNG. That is probably the most breathtaking place I have ever been. First of all, it’s GINORMOUSSSSS. We wandered around for three hours, before our legs were going to give out and our blood sugar  completely plummeted. We walked through room after room of beautiful art. We saw paintings by Cezanne, Matisse, Monet, Van Gogh, Renoir, Degas, and it was simply stunning. Also, every room has a different ceiling, and they are gah-litzy. I mean, royalty lived in this palace. It’s crazy to think about actually living there, because I think I would shut down with sensory overload.

Also, I went to Dom Knigi, THE HOUSE OF BOOKS. I like books. No that’s wrong. I love them. Hey Lindsay, what are you reading? WHY ARE YOU TALKING TO ME WHILE I’M READING??!!!! RAAAAAAAAAAGE!!!!!!! No that’s not entirely true, but I think you get the idea that I have deep burning love for literature. We walked in, and I was looking for War and Peace, but I could find the English section. I’ll tell you what, I was getting a little overwhelmed. WHERE ARE THE BOOKS IN ENGLISH??????!!!! I WANT TO READ IT IN ENGLISH BLEAAAAHHHHHH!!!! Anyway, I don’t have a lot of patience for such things, but don’t worry I found War and Peace. For 5 dollars. What’s up! High kicks.

Sheesh this is probably getting booooooring. You’re like Lindsay shut up already! Too bad, because I am not DONE. We went to the Church of the Spilled Blood, which looks like it’s from the board game Candyland. Not even kidding, it’s bright turquoise, gold, and green, and it looks like someone took skittles and starbursts and put them on a building. Way cool. My favorite part of the trip was the park by the Church. Pushkin described fall in Russia as the Golden Autumn. I love that concept, and we all know how I love the fall. It was absolutely gorgeous. The leaves were varying shades of gold, red, orange, bursting with rich color.  I felt like I was in a Land’s End advertisement. I took a billion pictures, but I don’t know if any photograph could capture the beauty of seeing it in person.

Ok, we made it back home, after the driver had much trouble saying my name, but finally figured out that I was actually supposed to be on the bus. Russians can’t say my name. It’s always pronounced like LEEENDSEEEE BYERG? Hilarious. Anyway, I am super pooped on the real. I don’t think I will ever have a birthday quite like my 21st.

Alright, I have to do a zillion pages of homework. Thanks for all the birthday wishes everyone. STEY GOLD BROOKLYN ZOO. YALLA!

Over-zealous clapping and Red Lipstick

Ok team, as I mentioned in one of my previous posts, one of my goals in Russia is to wear red lipstick. Most of you reading this blog are well aware that I am not the MOST feminine of ladies, and I quote from my sister (who is quite stylish) “You’re not allowed to wear soccer shorts to my wedding.” She’s not even getting married and she’s already warning me…I find that to be a fair and decision though. If I could get away with it I would totally wear soccer shorts to a wedding. Ok, KIDDING, that’s embarrassing ( I can never remember how to spell that word!). So anyway, I can get lady like if need be. I looooooooove makeup, which is a fact people are always surprised by. I love sparkly things and high heels, but let’s be real…NO WAY THAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN. I would have to wear four ankle braces on each foot just to keep my upright. This is what would happen:

Wow Lindsay, what did you do to your ankles?

Geez I sprained them playing street basketball with my Russian mullet friends, good thing I am so committed to being stylish, huh!?

Yeah…good for you girl.

See the joke is on them!!! They don’t even know that’s it’s strictly for keeping me from pitching forward onto an old toothless babushka. ANYWAY, I wore red lipstick today. I was bold and courageous and I wielded my Russian boots (FLAT ONES) and red lipstick and I was thinking that I.AM.SO.RUSSIAN. Just model stomping my way through the broken sidewalks. Not really, I am too hyper and ridiculous to ever fully become Russian. Alas, I will do what I can. I just can’t give up singing Celine Dion at the top of my lungs and high kicking and 946594387 cups of coffee and oh yeah…WATER.

So tonight I went to this three tenor opera concert thing at the Kremlin. It was straight up YALLA. There was an American tenor named Alejandro (instant Lady Gaga singing)  who was approximately 5 ft. 4 in tall, and you know how I KNEW he was American? He gave an obscene amount of thumbs ups and pointing of the index finger. He would finish a beautiful song, in a tuxedo WITH coattails, and just bounce around and point his fingers in victory like he just did a 23 minute rendition of Back in Black or Freebird. Hilarious.

Also, Russians clap in UNISON. Not even kidding, it was freaking weird. I was like why are we all clapping at the same time? I felt like in the Phantom of the Opera where the chandelier goes all crazy and lights the auditorium on fire and if we didn’t clap in unison that was going to happen. Ridiculous, I realize. Also, there were two champion clappers who outclapped every person who has ever clapped ever. Arms at full extension, as if they were marionettes. Such enthusiasm! The sincerity! Pure joy! I was so glad they really enjoyed their experience…but I mean STOP IT. We clapped for so long. I was like THAT’S ENOUGH CLAPPING. But seriously, I loved the concert.

Everyone, it’s October. This is my favorite month, my favorite time of year. I love pumpkins, autumnal hues, crisp weather, plaid, corduroy, Land’s End, golden retrievers, leather bound books, Dead Poet’s Society, crunchy leaves, soup, apples, and HALLOWEEN. I seriously love this month and the fall as a whole. If I could embody autumn as a human being, I would do so. Anyway, I don’t really have any of the autumnal “things” here, except for the weather and the changing of the leaves. I found the most beautiful leaf I have ever seen in my life. It seems to capture summer and fall in one single leaf. The hues have an ombre effect, the yellow fading into a splattering of red-orange, then finally the last bits of green still clinging on to the changing leaf. It’s also the size of my face. I am pressing it under a heap of books, and I am definitely taking it back home.

So my message to you, dear readers, is to embrace this beautiful month. Roll in some leaves, drink hot apple cider, read The Raven, watch Hocus Pocus, and bring out your most worn flannel. Cozy up in a knitted blanket and wear some toasty moccasins, because autumn is a lovely, refreshing time.

Alright, I’m out. STEY GOLD BROOKLYN ZOO. Carpe diem.

El Diablo tote bag

So I have this tote bag that I got in Madison on Maxwell Street days. Number 1, I love Madison, because it’s the BEST. Number 2, it’s bright and colorful and reminds me of oh I don’t know…FUN BRIGHT THINGS. No one likes to be very bright here, which is fine, I enjoy being drab, but my tote bag sticks out like my pants were on fire. Number 3, I can fit everything imaginable in that bag, as I like to say, a Mary Poppins bag. Oh do you have a brush? Yeah. The Bible? Oh, hmmm I think it’s under my stuffed hippo collection…ah yes! There it is. How about a sandwich? Yeah. A porcelain doll? Sure. Toe socks? A baby? Check aaaaaaaand…check.

BUT It’s been causing me some probs. Everywhere I go it sets off every single alarm ever. I’m like, I didn’t even GO in that store, they sell hair plugs! You know what I mean, it’s just ridiculous. Anyway, I was just trying to buy some freaking snacklets (nod to Beed!) and lo and behold I set off the alarm to the place. I’m like here’s my receipt, then they proceeded to look through my bag, took EVERYTHING out, and scanned EVERYTHING through the alarm system. IT WAS ONLY MY BAG. Weird. I bought three items; a juicebox, trail mix, and yogurt. Oh are you buying this for your 4 year old at home? No, actually I’m turning 15 tomorrow and my mom said I could get my driver’s permit so THERE. Anyway, there’s a crazy DON’T STEAL sticker on the very bottom of the bag underneath a crazy panel. Wow, can we just say, problem FREAKING SOLVED???!!!

So, today was not a great academic day for this girl. We have a very intense, intensely Russian, Russianly literary teacher for that class. She looks very friendly, but she tolerates absolutely zero nonsense. Needless to say, I am incredibly frightened of her. Anywho, we are reading Hero of Our Time by Lermontov (not the whole book, goodNESS) and it’s quite difficult. I had a good understanding of the story, then she asked me a very weird question:

Russian Queen: What’s unusual about one man having 4 bulls pulling his baggage, and the other having 6 bulls? What’s unusual about this situation?

Ding Dong: Ummmmmm….I am turning red and I can feel the heat radiating out of my ears like cartoon images (You know what I mean). I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know, furiously scan through the 74569529387 words I looked up in the dictionary…what is weird what is weird what is weeeeeeird.

Russian Queen: What’s unsual?

Ding Dong: I mean, what is unusual? Is it really weird, or bizarre, or outlandish that one dude has 4 bulls and the other has six? Is that relevant? What if they were emus, or moose, or giant people dressed as forks? THAT would be unusual, and a note of interest…but otherwise, who CARES?

Russian Queen: Staring staring staring staring staring staring.

Ding Dong: I…don’t…understand….?

Russian Queen: SIIIIIIGGHHHHHHH.

And you want to know what the answer was? The one with six bulls went slower, but he had more luggage, while the other who had 4 had less luggage so went faster. Huh, THAT IS SO WEIIIIIRRRRDDDD!!!!! Even though she thinks I am a total dumble bee, that’s ok because I am making progress, and I love that class anyway. Words can’t bring me down, according to the sage Christina Aguilera…I prefer XTina personally.

Well team, I am going to drink my juice box and snack on my trail mix. I can’t wait to walk through a store tomorrow and go through every alarm ever!! Wheeeeee party. Aight I’m out. STEY GOLD BROOKLYN ZOO.

P.S. I bought a bright blue leather jacket and I feel like a superhero pilot in it. It’s pretty great. They call me Superhero Pilot now (that’s a joke, they don’t unfortunately). I feel like I dance better in it….you know?

HEY! I’M AMERICAN!

Sometimes, I really feel this way. I am sure many of you who are reading this have traveled before, and have come across moments where you question whether or not someone wrote “I AM FROM AMERICA” on a giant sign with flashing lights and dancing ladies on it and decided to stick it from a giant post strapped to your head. Sometimes I really do question if I am barbecuing ribs with the guys while watching the game, and Bruce Springsteen’s Born to Run is blasting in the background. Am I wearing a baseball cap and eating McDonald’s? Am I wearing tennis shoes and jeans? Am I wearing overalls? A sports team sweatshirt? An American flag? Am I too smiley? I have really toned that down, just to let you know.

So I accept that my essence is not Russian. I freaking WISH. Dang, if I could give my right eyebrow to walk in high heels and not want to implode with rage I totally would. I would wear metallic eyeshadow and a black leather jacket like it was my uniform. ANYWAY, I am just too animated and cheerful. And my laugh is way WAY too loud. But. BUT. I am one step closer.

So, everyone uses shopping bags for actual bags. Not backpacks or tote bags, but like, a Target bag or Younkers or Hot Topic or wherever. It’s kind of weird, because I feel they would tear really easily, in my opinion they are not very sturdy and rather impractical. Hoodlums, I tell you! ANYWAY. Everyone has these Rive Gauche bags. They are bright and say Rive Gauche on them and every human being in Russia has one. It’s almost, like they planned it. Where do you go to get one? Do you have to be invited, what do you buy there??!!! I was rather curious. I went, I conquered. It’s a makeup and toiletry store. UMMMM…YALLA BLAIVEN. Anyway, got me some non-metallic eyeshadow (just can’t do it, I mean I wear cardigans for godssakes) and some lip gloss. OHMYGODDD I’M GOING TO GET A BAGGGGG!!!! But no. I don’t get one, just a plain pink one. AND I DON’T EVEN LIKE PINK. Disappointed, I start to sulk, “Now I know I can never be Russian!” I wail. That’s not true, but I wanted one, you know??! But I got something better. A Rive Gauche card! They gave me one, I didn’t ask. Or anything. They just knew. I was invited into the club. One day at a time, one.day.at.a.time. I will be Russian, just you wait. A woman even asked me for directions! She thought I was Russian. I was so pumped that I almost high kicked, then Bruce Springsteen would start blaring out of the background somewhere and the moment would be over and she would say, I should have known….an American.

Also, there are a lot of weird English things here. My favorite though, is the elevator in my building. It always is on the verge of shutting down, (like the buses), and on the inside door in scratchy lettering it says “Stey Gold Brooklyn Zoo.” Now, I don’t know why anyone would have ever thought to string those words together (and stey is definitely with an “e”). But, it has a nice ring to it weirdly. You know those people who wrote in your yearbook at the end of the year, and they would say something along the lines of “stay cool, don’t change.” I always thought that was ridiculous, like they had the elite privilege to determine whether I was allowed to change or not. Shut up horrible yearbook writers. ANYWAY, I think I’m going to use that phrase instead of oh I don’t know, “keep it real” or “keep it classy” or what have you. It just carries more emotional weight, you know?

Ok, well I am going to go listen to Thunder Road on repeat and catch the Yankees game. Maybe I’ll eat some apple pie while I’m at it, and wash it down with a glass of water because apparently it’s only American to be HYDRATED. Wonky, I tell you. Alright I’m out. STEY CLASSY BROOKLYN ZOO. Carpe diem.