Flickr is a liar and a cheat. I just discovered their monthly upload limit, and there's no way I can upload the ungodly plethora of photos I take within that limit. I'm strongly considering paying for a pro account with no upload limit. The facebook uploading apparatus is horribly slow, and I haven't been anywhere with fast enough internet to make it feasible in under half an hour. But I have pictures! lots of them! Some are good! How can I share them?
It's Monday of the second week of our Russian Language Intensive, and all our regular classes begin on Wednesday. In Russia the 1st of September is "Ден Знание," the Day of Knowledge, when all schools and universities throughout the country begin their semester. However, Smolny is in a state of constant turmoil and disorganization (they're half in one building, half in another, one of which is under restoration and one of which is under repair), so because they've been unable to get their act together, Smolny students start on Wednesday. Until then, it's just three hours of Russian class every morning. You know, nothing much.
When they say "intensive", it's what they mean. It all seems like sound-soup in my head and ears right now, but I'm persevering with the hope and expectation that there's got to be a moment when everything shifts slightly, the sounds turn into meanings and I get it.
For now, it's impossibly frustrating. I feel paralyzed in everyday situations like at the grocery store or on the bus, unable to communicate with anyone around me. I understand a lot bit of what people say, usually enough to get by, but I'm helpless to respond. The language barrier feels like a physical thing, a two-way mirror where I hear what they're saying but no matter how I try I can't make them understand me. Being deprived of my language is terrifying. No matter how I try to gather my nerve, it's discouraging. I want so much to stay positive about everything, but I have trouble negotiating mundane interactions--I don't know how to read a menu, I don't know how to ask what the next stop is on the bus, I can ask for directions but I don't know how to follow them. It's scary. I'm trying, but it's hard.
As far as...life? This weekend was sort of a blast. I went to Klub Arktika, reportedly the best club on Vasilevsky Island (and the hub of Goth culture in St. Petersburg), on Friday night. I walked 25 minutes in heels to get there, incredulous the whole way that some St. Petersburg women (most, in fact) wear stilettos no matter where they are or what the occasion. Women here are extremely well-dressed, overdressed, beautiful dolls promenading up and down Nevsky Prospect ("a young lady, who turns her head to the glittering shop windows as a sunflower turns toward the sun"). But we are very clearly American no matter how many inches we stack under our heels, in little ways like the way we hold our cigarettes or our styles of dancing.
Saturday afternoon I met my friend Jason for a jam session by the canal, in the sun. After a year of playing with Funk Apteryx it felt very strange to play in a different style with a different person. It was shaky but fun, and we agreed to play again soon. That evening I went to visit my friend Joe down the hall and when I came back, my door was locked and my keys were inside--I guess my flatmate had left and locked the door behind her. So I spent some time mulling around, visiting different friends, waiting for Rebecca to get home. Unfortunately, everyone decided to go out to Fish Fabrique, the bar associated with the famous Pushkinskaya 10 gallery and art center, but the girls across the hall let me hang out in their room (instead of the hallway) while I waited for my roommate...and fortunately, Rebecca got there only 10 minutes after they left, so I joined them there. Fish Fabrique is a great little bar, there's live music and dim lights and foozball...A++, would Fish Fabrique again.
Sunday it rained all day, a catastrophe of gigantic proportions because we spent the whole day outside, at Peterhoff, the palace and park built to celebrate Russia's naval victory over Sweden or something like that. It's sickeningly opulent but really quite beautiful, and even though we froze our asses off, the grey sky really brought out the green.
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