Happy Bomb Day!

So...maybe I should explain the last entry a little.

It all started last week. A group of us were supposed to go to Vladimir, out side of moscow. For this, we were to get up and be out of the building at the ungodly hour of 7 am on a saturday.
After going to bed at three, I was startled out of my sleep by a large, single, thunderclap. Too tired to care and too disorientated to think, it never occured to me how odd that it was not raining and that there was only one thunderclap. I feel back asleep cursing the strange russian weather.
At seven am...we walked through the silent, dark corriders of our dormitory, out of our building and into ....chaos. My first, amazed and naive assumption was that I had misjudged the russian student body and that, while we were still asleep in our beds, on saturday mornings they were up at 7 am to be industrious citizens. then I noticed that the always perfectly made up russian girls were in pajamas. and then I saw the police and ambulances.
tired, confused, and cold as they were, no one could tell us what had happened. We left for vladimir. Upon returing to MGU, we were told that a BOMB had been put in the sector next to ours. and whats more, two more had set...but luckily those had been caught. the explosion wasn't big...but we were told that it wasn't terrorists...the consensus was that it was only those dastardly chemistry students
heres the thing. it doesn't matter if it was set by mischevious chemistry students testing their chemistry knowledge. a bomb is a bomb. fire can still kill you no matter who set it. and, we are living in a fire hazard...the fire alarm and sprinklers haven't worked since 1965.

Soviet Music is the equivalent of the Chinese's Water Torture

last week I woke up to my worst nightmare. I heard heavy, multipe footsteps marching towards my door, and I waited breathlessly to something awful to happen to me. I actually cracked open the door and peered out. Sure enough, there were the men in uniform from the Internal Department...they weren't the average militizia. However, they just laughed at my obvious panic and cheerily called out "dobre utra!" ( good morning) to me...as if it wasn't 3 in the morning. It was the door 5 doors down from me that had the rude awakening.

Then this morning I awoke at 5 am to a loud, ominous and omniscient voice telling us to get our importatnt documents and to leave the building immeadiately. It took me some moments to realize that we had speakers in the hall, which is where the voice came from. I immeadiately assumed that another bomb had gone off, and panicking, I gathered up my documents and fled the room." I join the group of people who were leaving en masse from the building when suddenly the voice clicked off...and russian folk music took its' place. I, along with everyone else, stopped dead in our tracks. what? why? is it the russian way of preventing a panic to play russian folk music? is it supposed to soothe and comfort the students escaping a bombed building?
At this point, the djourna came out and told us that it wasn't real. Relieved, we returned to our rooms. Only to discover what real russian cruelty is. Because the russian folk music didin't turn off!! no...it continned for hours off and on. Some evil students must have hijacked the Emergency Speaker System and was instead using it for malicious fun...instead of using it to warn students of fires, bombs, and such...they used it to start a morning radio show and to play the worst "music" you have ever heard. The music was clearly pre-1991...it had that sovietesque feel to it. The USSR did a lot of bad things to its' people...but subjecting them to the atrocity they called music has to be one of the cruelest. just like my parents had always feared, i ended up in the fetal position in the corner of my bed, covering my head with a pillow, waiting for it to stop
its a good thing i'll never find out who those students were...because if i did, i think i would rip out their ribcage

I lost both my keys and Terri today....its been stressful.

A few days ago, after I left the gym, I realized that Terri had called me two times, and I had not answered. I'm a bit of a drama queen, so I stated, " O no, Terri is going to think that I died! I haven't talked to her in hours!" At which point the person who I was with mocked my interdependent relationship with Terri. I laughed too....thinking that I was only joking and not really that paranoid.

Oh, I was wrong. So, so wrong. Today, Terri dissapeared. I realized this at about 8pm when Henrike and I were talking...that was when we had discovered that Terri had been unaccounted for four hours! Henrike and I became more and more "without a trace" and "CSI" while we attempted to track her down. Here is what we discovered:
1) She had last been seen at Old Arbat with Vlada at 4 sharp
2) she was supposed to meet someone there
3) she was not answered her phone or texts
4) she had a birthday present with her

this is what we knew:

1) This is the old holiday that celebrated the October Revolution...which meant that drunk and racist people were out
2) Terri is asian and does not speak a word of Russian
3) she was supposed to be at home by at least 9 because today was Kristen's birthday
4) we know all of her friends.;...and none of them were with her
5) exccept the one boy who is currently in San Diego

In other words: Dooooommmmmm.
So we panicked, imagining Terri sold by Russian pimps, Terri captured and used as a drug mule, Terri dead in the streets after being hit by a driver afflicted with road rage. It was not fun....as each hour passed we became more and more frightened, certain that something dreadful happened.
After calling several people, one of which who told me that kidnapping aren't that common, and one of which assured me that "Terri was taken by militia" ...an ambiguous scenario...since no one really knows if that is a good thing or not, I had finally had it and began to dial the US embassy so that I could tell them that a petite vietnamese-American was lost in Russia, and that they had to find her...when...I was texted by Terri, telling me that she was fine. Crisis averted, though I think I may have aged 10 years.

The Russian winter beat Hitler and Napoleon, but will it conquer my vanity?

Today it snowed for the first time. Normally, the first snows I have experienced have been cute, light flurries that gently announced the coming of winter. This, however, was heavy, wet, snowflakes that fell to the Earth to say, "haha, fool! Winter isn't coming, its here!!!"
Soo...the gym.. thats right, the girl who never went to the gym that was 2 minutes away from her bed now travels to a gym 45 minutes away by metro every morning. why? no idea...i think because in some sort of sick twisted way, i think that life is too good, too easy, and that I have to add some element of work into my life. My gym is very odd...it has a dimly lit cafe that could not be called anything other than romantic. No one is ever at the gym...but i like that better...there is no one there to mock me while I do my version of "working out"

I might be staying in Russia for the whole year- this semester has not proved to be the most educational for me...my language class was a joke that would have been more funny had I not been in Russia, in desperate need of language skills. Any russian that I have learned is through experience and what I have taught myself...needless to say: not nearly enough. To fix the situation..I've had to take extra language immersion classes and I work at an NGO...so hopefully, my Russian is improving.
I have decided that America and American might be a reality check that I want to delay. It's hard, however, I feel as if I have so many responsibilites back at home that I need to take care of, so I don't really know how this will work. But I feel that this is something that I need to do, I literally feel sickened at the thought of returning to America without my Russian at a proficient level. My only fear is that I will not survive Moscow...as a pedestrian, my life is threatened every 10 minutes by the ambiguous pedestrian crossing signs and the general indifference Moscovites have towards traffic laws and pedestrians.
The bitter cold is starting to scare me..I need to buy real boots, a hat and a coat. .I have yet to find a coat that I like, but it is getting colder and colder everyday. As for hats, they just do not look good on me. I went to the hat market, where I was surrounded by a sea of hats in every style, color and material. Yet not one suited me. I am in desperate need of a hat now...as well as boots. Boots!! I should get a plain, nice sturdy pair of boots... everytime I go into a store, the most beautiful and impractical pair call out to me. My vainity vs. my need to surivive the cold....who will win? I honestly don't know...how ridiculous am I?

I might just not leave, after all

Today I woke up in a room that was roughly around the temperature of an icecube. Hello, Russian winter.

Moscow has turned out to be my favorite place in the world. I find that while the language barrier is an issue, a helpless smile, sad eyes and my calculator/translator do help quite a bit. Nothing really makes sense here, but I find that the nonsensicalness suits me well, as I have never really believed in common sense anyway. What does not suit me well is my unability to wake up before noon. Today was the first day in weeks that I pulled myself out of bed before 10.
The other day, when my Kiki and I had given up on The Vanishing Professor ever gracing us with his presence, we decided to take the bus back to the university. Alas, we saw the bus pulling away just as we reached the stop. Our bad timing was rewarded two seconds later as we watched that same bus hit an expensive looking car. While the elements were dismal, to better increase our chances of pnemonia, we stayed outside to watch the unfurling comedy for the next half an hour...which consisted of watching the portly, angry owner of the car screaming at the hapless bus driver, who was sporting pink knee socks and purple flip flops. Soon they were surrounded by the babushkas which had formerly been on the bus, all yelling their opinions of the situation. Kiki and i stood removed, silently and not so silently laughing at the absurdity of the situation. As we finally boarded the bus, the angry owner of the car, who had moments before looked like slightly less green and much more version of the Hulk, smiled and winked at us. He then turned back into his frightening self.

so far

I kept on waiting for culture shock. sure that since I was in a foreign, non-english speaking formerly communist country that I would be eventually hit a point where I would end up feeling like Fidel(not castro, the little cartoon mouse), homesick and confused. Then I realized that every moment of every day is culture shock- and either I'm better at adapting than what I had hoped or I have just been numbed to the shock.

I think that the hardest part of being here has been the hunger factor. I am always hungry, and I never have anything to eat. I don't think that Russia has intentionally tried to make me feel their pain, all the same, I have. Their food has been difficult for me to get adjusted to. I have not eaten fast-food in years- yet since I've been here I've gone to McDonalds twice. Their McFlurries are better than american mcflurries. Other than that, I have supplemented food with chocolate, bread, cheese and water. and tomatos. tomatos fried, tomatos raw, tomato juice. I hope that soon I will become more adjusted to the food.
Speaking russian is going along decently I suppose. The words are all starting to sound familiar and I can understand the gist of most conversations. One major difficulty is the lack of Russians in my acquaintice. so far, the ratio of germans has far exceeded all other nationalities. I've now think of the floor above me as "Little Germany". I started my internship yesterday-but my first day happened to be the last for the other two interns- so they decided that we should all go for a barbeque in the mountains surrounding Russia. My one boss told me to try to speak russian more, and that one can not learn the language wtihout drinking its alcohol. Everyone solemnly nodded in agreement.

Dressing according to the weather? only for weaklings and americans.

The russian language and I? are still not really friends. As strange and stupid as it might sound, it never really occured to me that my smattering of russian would be the only way I could communicate to others. I don't think the realization hit me until the third day in Moscow. Kristin and I went to the coffee shop, which was written as a cognate in cyrillic. and yes, it was just was tacky looking as you might imagine.
kristin and I ordered our drinks successfully and proudly. However, the waiter came back a moment later. he was the same waiter we had had the night before when we went there with a group of people. Using hand potions and speaking incredibly slowly, he explained to us at least five times the same words. But no matter how hard we tried, we did not understand a word of what he was saying. Finally, we understood that he wanted the flier that he had given us the night before- the one that would allow us to get one of our drinks for free. He went away, and I saw that the horror I felt was mirrored in Kristens face. I realized that fully for the first time that I was in a foreign country where I could not communicate with anyone more than to state the basics. we could either laugh or cry. we decided to laugh then, but the frustration is soon going to make me gnash my teeth.
In other news, Russia as of yet is not as cold as we thought it would be. Its the same weather we would have in late october. The girls here seem to have an indifference to the weather that is amazing. no matter the bumpy, uneven sidewalk- they wear stillettos. No matter the rain- they wear skirst short enough for Malibu. It's 8 am in the morning?- their hair and make-up is done and fabulously so. The Russian girls are girls to be intimidated of. Most are tall, all are fashionable and roughly 70% look like super models. They are all so beautiful! The russian race is genetically blessed. Life can be so unfair sometimes.

Week One

So this is going to be my way of contacting people while I"m in Russia. I have found that I am much to lazy to send actual emails to everyone...so if you want to email me ( which I would love) my email is MeghanGattuso@yahoo.com

Russia is so different and yet the same in so many ways to America. For example: Driving. Both in DC and Moscow drivers have this desperate, frantic need to drive as fast as possible, with an indifference towards traffic lights and pedestrians. The difference, however, lies in the Russian's creativity of how to circumvent traffic. You see, cars here, when traffic gets to slow, or they need to drive in the opposite direction of traffic drive on the sidewalks. I was quite innocently walking on the sidewalk with a few of the girls when we heard an engine behind us. A black lexus had pulled off the road, onto the curb, and was now waiting impatiently for us to move off the sidewalk so the car could pass. This isn't an irregular occurance...cars here always seem to be driving on the sidewalk. Also, parking? While in DC people circle around forever and pay enormous fees for legal parking, cars in Russia have no qualms about parking anywhere. its very strange.
Dancing in Russia has proven to be kind of ridiculous. "there is a new dance...very popular in Russia. It's called the hustle...do you know it?" a sweet russian asked me. I would have laughed, thinking he was joking, if not for the earnestness(sp) in his voice. Yes, the hustle, that infamous 80s line dance usually reserved for those who lived in the disco era, is the new cool dance in Russia. or at least it was to this poor guy. After explaining that my mother danced the hustle, and for that reason alone, the hustle is a dance that i can never do, i could not help but understand the anti-american sentiment throughout the world. Talk about adding insult to injury, not only have we shown them democracy in forms of mcdonalds and organized crime- we have also exported the henious hustle.