2-7-07

2-7-07

You know how sometimes you’ll have an experience that, looking back on it, feels like it’s more dreamlike than reality-based? You’ll think back to it and because it’s so weird the edges of the memory seem blurred like when you’re trying to remember a dream, so there’s no possible way that that memory could be real. Haha, don’t get worried, nothing horrible happened. But it was a pretty terrifying and hilarious situation—both at the same time. I guess that’s what makes it so improbable. I’ll get to that experience in a second.

I made myself a sandwich with my sandwich makings this morning and Marina gave me an actual brown paper bag to brown bag it today. It was a successful experience. I was far more successful in packing my lunch than Hannah, who was running late and just through some pieces of bread, cookies, a package of cheese, and a hunk of sausage into a grocery bag. After our late class (20th Century Russian Literature—I liked it much better when I had it last Spring in the states with Professor Kiziria and she would randomly go off on wild-eyed rants about recycling or televangelists or eHarmony.com), the laptop gang (Me, Hannah, Becky, and Kate) along with laptopless Hillary and Lael went to Kolobok. We hung out there for about two hours, showing each other pictures and the like.

Hannah and Kate left to go to a drawing class, and Hillary left with them to catch the Metro home at about 5:30. At about 6:15 Lael, Becky, and I left. Lael could just walk home, but Becky and I had to take the Metro. The Metro station, Cherneshevskaya (Clocking in at exactly a 3 minute long escalator ride—the current number 1), is about a block and a half from Kolobok. The entry to the station has 6 swinging doors. Only two of them are open, the other four are locked. This means there’s a mass of people in front of the doors, all pushing to get it. And this was a large mass of people. Lael wishes us luck and Becky and I join the mob. We keep looking at each other and laughing about the ridiculousness of the situation. Once people fill in behind us, we really no longer have control over our own movements. We’re just concentrating on not falling, because that’s pretty much the end, right there.

We were a slow, crushing human wave heading toward the door. Imagine how tight your worst claustrophobic nightmare is. Now tighten it. Every part of my body is getting pushed into someone else’s body. Elbows and knees and the corners of bags become weapons. Becky looks to me and says, “There’s a step coming up.” I say, “Don’t trip.” We get to the step; I lift one foot onto it. Then I realize that although I have yet to lift my other foot, I’m on the same level as everyone else. And then I grasp what’s happened—my feet aren’t touching the ground at all. The wave has lifted me completely off of my feet, and now I have absolutely no control over where I’m going. I look over to Becky and we make eye contact again and both start laughing. I look to my right and there’s a taller man next to me who notices Becky and I laughing. He smiles back at us. As we approach the door, my feet now back on the ground, he sticks an arm out and braces himself on the building. This gives me the chance to get inside the door, because before I was being pushed into the wall between doors, not the door itself. Even with this stranger’s help, I still get slammed into the doorframe.

What’s remarkable, though, is how calm it is inside. The line to buy tokens was obscenely short. Of course, the trains were pretty busy, but I was actually able to sit down on the blue line for a couple of stops. What a crazy experience. When I got home, I told Marina how they only had 2 doors open at Cherneshevskaya, and she muttered an “Oy oy oy, terrible terrible.” Then I had mashed potatoes and some nasty fish for dinner. As if dorm food hadn’t made me value Mom’s cooking enough already. Tomorrow we’re going to try someplace new for lunch after school. Should be exciting.

In Conversation class we’re discussing marriage. I learned today that Russians wear their wedding bands on the ring finger of their right hand, as opposed to the American way, which is the left hand. I was able to inform the class that Americans do it this way because the Romans believed that the ring finger of the left hand was connected directly to the heart. Mikhail explained to us why the Russians wear it on the right. To a Russian, the right side of the body is God’s side of the body, and the left side of the body is the Devil’s side of the body. (Hence, when a superstitious Russian sees a black cat, they’ll spit three times over their left shoulder to spit in the face of the Devil.) It’s only logical that the symbol of marriage should be worn on God’s side of the body.

I can’t believe it’s past 8 o’clock already. Time either moves ridiculously fast or ridiculously slow. See, at IU I wouldn’t go to bed until midnight or so, which meant I had plenty of time to have a social life and to do homework. Here, I get tired at like 9:30, which means it’s usually 1. Come home. 2. Eat. 3. Homework. 4. Sleep. If I have a book to read I’ll do that, too. Unfortunately, I have finished my two books from the English language bookstore. I think I’m going to try to trade them tomorrow or Friday for some fresh material. If I finish my homework quickly enough tonight I’ll watch an episode of Voyager or something to get an English fix. Becky’s going to download the episodes of Grey’s Anatomy we’ve missed, and I think Anthony is going to download The Office, and Katie’s going to download Lost. So at some point later in the semester, we’re going to all get together and get caught up.

I’ll take my laptop to school Friday and post this after late classes. So far I have no plans for the weekend, but I kind of want to go to a museum. Either the Russian Museum or the museum with mutated animals. You know, either or. This is a very cultural city.