1. On Wednesday morning, as I was sitting on a bench outside, a cat jumped onto my lap and, after a couple minutes of purring and adjusting himself, curled up and fell asleep in my arms. My inner monologue went something like, “I am Snow White. I am Mother Teresa. Nature has chosen me.” After a few minutes, the cat saw another cat and ran off after it. I felt a little cheated.
2. I spent my Halloween with two Russian friends, who are both silly, smart, and kind. I like them very much. They were into it - dressing up as a dead ghoulish girl and Alex from A Clockwork Orange, respectively. I didn’t think Halloween was a thing in Russia but, apparently, it is - at least among some university-age groups. We went to a bar that was festively decorated for the occasion. We ate nachos and ordered drinks. They made me go up to order the second and third round myself (3 rums with cherry juice – 3 рома с вишневым соком!), and they cheered and clapped for me afterwards. American pop-punk-rap music from the nineties played the whole night. It was weird, but a nice weird. We befriended one of the security guards, whose job it was to check ids at the door. At one point, my friends and I hugged each other on the stairway and exchanged happy, rum-with-cherry-juice infused words of:
"I love this girl"
"No, I love you more."
"You’re so wonderful."
"Come home with me and live under my bed and I’ll feed you cookie crumbs."
^ That last line probably wasn’t spoken in these exact words, but the sentiment was there.
3. My Dickinson group visited a high school English class last week. They are equivalent to high school seniors in the U.S., and will be going to university next year. We, the Americans, sat at separate tables. Then 4 or 5 Russian students sat with each of us to share a conversation in English. The Russian students said they were really nervous, which was silly because, of course, their English is amazing. They probably speak English better than I do. We talked about classes, museums, hobbies, dreams, and music. My group sang “Single Ladies” for me. They love Beyoncé. The whole class jumped at the opportunity to give us a tour of their school. There was a framed photo of Putin in the library. (“We pray under him every morning. We light candles. First comes God then comes Putin.”) We passed a water fountain. (“This is filled with vodka, of course.”) My group and I exchanged emails, instagrams, and pinterests. We showed each other photos of our cats. I’ve exchanged messages with them every day since our meeting. I told my Mom that I may have found my “Russian Friend Soulmates” in a text with lots of smiley faces and cat emojis.
..We took a lot of selfies. They were very into selfies.
4. A couple weeks ago, my host mom and I went to a choir concert of one of her formerly hosted students. As we were putting on our coats to go, the taxi guy called and said he would be 20 minutes late. We sighed. We went back to the kitchen and watched a horrible cheesy soap opera. We shared a box of chocolates, which someone had brought as a gift earlier that day. We decided that these chocolates were not our favorite chocolates. Our favorite chocolates are called “Коровка”.
5. My favorite teacher always ends my favorite class by asking us individually if we have any questions. One day last week, everyone said no until the last guy. He paused, looked up, looked down, then leaned forward and casually said, “Yes, what’s new with you?” I laughed so hard that I snorted.
6. The biggest issue Muscovites seem to have with the sanctions is that they can no longer buy good European cheese. Everyone misses the cheese. There was a segment on the news yesterday that featured Russia’s renewed efforts to be better cheese-makers, in light of the sanctions. My host mom complains about Russia’s inability to make cheese weekly. Let them have their cheese, man. End the sanctions. Bring back the cheese. We all just want cheese.
7. I have found my most absolute favorite shampoo/soap/lotion brand EVER. It’s called “Natura Siberica” and all their products are almost completely organic and natural, harvested from wild Siberian herbs and flowers. When I walk into the store, they greet me with a hot cup of tea, brewed with the same herbs as found in their beauty products, then leave me alone to browse their incredibly reasonably priced shelves in peace. There’s a windowed room, where you can watch a guy make the soap right IN FRONT OF YOUR EYES. Yesterday, I bought a large bottle of shampoo and another of body wash for less than 10 U.S. dollars. The yoga loving, mushroom tea drinking, organic farm supporting parts of myself nearly cried with happiness.
8. One of my very dearest friends from Dickinson, Steph, visited me a few weeks ago. She was in Moscow studying the economy with her Denmark program. We ate Georgian food. I struggled to ask someone to take a photo of us. We took a taxi home one night and I conversed in Russian with the taxi driver, boosting my self esteem by about 1 million points. One night, I trailed along with her huge American group, as they went clubbing on a Thursday. I’m not going to lie; it was really a nice change of pace to blend into a large group, without the pressure of making any decisions. There were a couple Russian students leading everyone along, and I spent most of the evening laughing at the ridiculousness of herding a 20-something group of American students through the maze of the Moscow metro. During the day, there’s about 40 of them. Steph described to me that they all wear headsets, through which their professors can speak to them. It takes multiple tries, and lots of time, for them to all make it onto a metro car together amidst the morning rush hour. Sometimes, their professor will ask something into his headset, and the students will all shout out an answer, to the surprise of Russian bystanders, who cannot hear the question posed but only the seemingly out-of-the-blue, 40-person-strong response. For example, they were in the Red Square and their professor asked what the name was on the mausoleum, to which they all shouted, “Leeeniiinn!” The image of a headset-wearing American group, enthusiastically shouting Lenin’s name in the Red Square was almost enough to make me smile after Steph went back to Copenhagen, leaving a sad Steph-shaped space behind. Thanks for being my pal, Steph! I miss you! (Khachapuri misses you too.)
Moscow is confusing.. so are maps.
