Journal 123

Journal 123

2-19-10

. . . . . .

Today…

Was the MORNING FROM HELL!!!!

Good, God, Almighty [Whom I love!] -- The DAY before I am supposed to leave Moscow, the *last* *Day*, and I wake up to yet ANOTHER installment of the, "I Am Ruining My Host Family's Floor, One Bit At A Time" Drama!

… Of course, I didn't wake up right away to it.

Oh, no!

I woke up happy, thrilled, thinking of the breakfast with my two amazing friends, to which I would soon be on my way! I got up, got dressed, and grabbed my things, all without incident! I was going to be on time!

And *right* as I am ready to walk out the door, I hear it… … This… Hissing noise…

First, I think, "What on *Earth* is that?" No panic. … Yet.

I quickly zeroed in on where the sound was coming from -- and when I realized it was coming from my bookbag, *then* I panicked. I lifted the bag up… And there, on my floor, was a shiny, wet spot, about 5-6 inches in diameter or so….

You see, when we had our recital yesterday, I had put a can of hairspray into my bag, both for myself, and for any girl who was going to need it to do her hair. When I got home from the Embassy, my bag went down on the floor, and I went to bed.

*Somehow,* at *some* point during the 5 hours between when I went to bed, and when I woke up, the cap of the hairspray (which was pointed downwards in my bag) was knocked off, and the can was depressed. So for Heaven-Only-Knows how long, the Hairspray was just spraying… Spraying into my bag… Leaking through my bag… *Staining* *my* *floor.*

The best way I can really describe my reaction at that point is to tell you all of the feelings that simultaneously ran through me:

1. My stomach completely dropped out.

2. I'm pretty sure I *died* a little inside. Or, well, all the way.

3. I thought about how, "Did this HAVE to happen before I was going to BREAKFAST!!! I'm going to be late!!!"

4. "Never mind being late, I'm going to be DEAD! My Host Mum is going to KILL me!!!!!"

5. "Did this have to happen the DAY BEFORE I LEAVE!?!?!"

6. "It's still wet… Okay, I have to tell my Host Mum now… Maybe it'll come out … Some…"

So, I dutifully ran out to find my host mum… And as soon as she saw the, "I'm Dead, I'm Dead, I'm Dead, I'm Dead" look on my face, and once I said the words, "my floor" -- she game running.

I took a massive yelling/lecture. The whole time she was scrubbing acetone on it:

"I *told* you not to get anything on this floor!"

"I can understand a *child* making a mess -- but you are an adult! I told you! I told you more than once!"

"Do you know how expensive it is to replace this floor?!"

"It's not even about the money -- it's a hassle to replace this floor! You have to deal with moving all the furniture, and being out of a room!"

Etc, etc, ad nauseum.

I tried to say I would pay for it, if I had to -- she told me, "It's not for students to have to pay for it! What money could you have?! You don't work!"

I tried to say it was an accident, but I didn't know the word for accident, so when all I could say was, "I didn't mean to," the response was, "It doesn't matter what you *meant* to do -- this is what you did!"

… And then… God took pity on me is all I can think, because the gargantuan stain began to come out…. The more it came out, the better my Host Mum began to feel. By the end, when it looked as though one would never be able to tell that anything had ever happened, and after I'd stood through the verbal beating the whole time, she looked at me -- and I must have looked absolutely *pathetic* by this point -- and said, "Oh, don't wilt so -- that's just how I am. Don't worry."

Thus, with enough stress to have turned my hair white forever, I managed to get out of my house, instead of on-time, about 30 minutes late.

**********

Luckily for me, Mulzoff and Lawson are entirely amazing, and waited for me, and gave me lots of hugs to help me start feeling better, when I showed up. We headed out for breakfast, using the Metro, and going on foot this time -- and as we were walking down the street, I noticed that Mulzoff and Lawson would keep looking behind themselves, to see where I was. (It just so happened that, with the construction on the street we were on, there was only room to walk single file, really, and I just happened to be last in line when we got onto the street.)

I laughed and told them, "You keep looking back -- I'm still here!" Then I paused for a moment, " -- Although, how bad would it be -- after telling my friends and family, "I'll be fine! Nothing's gonna happen to me!" -- to get kidnapped on my LAST day in Moscow?"

We all laughed, and they responded, somewhat seriously, "Especially when you're walking around with two Marines."

*****

Once we got into the diner, we got our menus, but they only handed us Russian ones -- probably because I'd grabbed the table for us, using Russian. So, when I was trying to suggest that Mulzoff get a hot chocolate (because I thought it was the real, "melted chocolate" kind), he couldn't read the item off to the waitress. Because I was getting one, too, I just spoke up for both of us to the waitress. I figured it was just easier to tell her to bring two.

She walked off, and Mulzoff looked at me and said, "Did you just order for me? I feel so emasculated!"

We all laughed, and breakfast passed in a marvelous fashion.

*****

On our way out, we had a lovely discussion concerning the merits, and disadvantages of sacrificing oneself for a friend. This was brought on my Mulzoff's insistence that he crosses the street on whatever side of me the traffic is coming from.

"I'd take a car for you!" I cried, as he once again outmaneuvered me to be in the "sacrificial spot."

-- "But I don't want you to." Mulzoff replied, in his, "I'm going to win this argument," voice.

"But if you died to protect me, then I'd have a bunch of pissed off Marines after me!!" I countered.

-- 'Yeah, I'd have to kill you,' Lawson added in, nonchalantly.

"See? They'd revenge you! Then your sacrifice would be for nothing!!!!"

That argument didn't produce any effect upon Mulzoff, so I sighed and said, "Oh well… At least we'd both not have to pay taxes."

*****

I left Mulzoff and Lawson's company there, and started my present-buying mission.

First stop? The Babaevskii Chocolate factory!

Mission accomplished? How does walking out with SIX POUNDS of chocolate sound?!?!

Granted, in all fairness, as I was putting together my, "List of people I am buying things for," it basically wound up having over 40 people on it. Buying a mass of Russian chocolate to distribute was pretty darn cost effective!

*****

As I was leaving from the chocolate factory, I was trying to rearrange some things in my purse, and as a result, I wound up working my water bottle out of my purse, and it fell to the ground with an obscenely loud noise. I heard someone cry out when it hit the ground, and after I'd stooped to pick up my bottle, I saw an older woman, just behind me, who looked as though I'd just given her a heart attack!! She told me that I had scared her to death, and I apologized, but I have an accent, and so… … It was time for one more, "Moscow Kitty gets into conversations with any one, at any time," before I left the city!

She asked me where where I was from; although it took me a few tries to understand *her,* but then, that was the end of any communication difficulties between us. I told her that I was from the US, and she told me, to quote, "I'm jealous of you." Paraphrasing now, she continued, 'I always wanted to go to the US, but I never could. There was always something; my husband was sick, and couldn't travel, my husband died; I have a sick child…' LIfe was just always getting in the way. I asked her, couldn't she still try to go, and she said, "I'm too old for that, now." I think she said she was seventy-some-odd years old.

She told me about the differences between society then and now -- how when she was little, her mum used to read all the Russian Classics to her. Authors like Dostoevsky, Tolstoy, Chekov. "Now," she said, reflecting, "all the books and TV shows are about sex!!" She paused. Then added, "-- Not that I have anything against sex…!!" I couldn't stop laughing! More power to her.

Her name was Svetlana Semyënova, and we walked and talked together almost the whole way back from the factory to the Metro. Cool lady.

**********

My next stop was a place called Izmailovsky Park. This place is famous both for its open air "Market," and the "miniatures" of some of Moscow's most famous buildings. Also tucked away in there somewhere is a Vodka Museum. The Market contains about everything you could ever possibly want… Ever. Plus about twice as much stuff you'd NEVER want! Or maybe it's that you just would never need it… Either way, some of it is insanely expensive, some of it is priced to kill, and most of it, you're supposed to try and haggle like crazy for. It is certainly an experience to behold.

It was here that I came to try and find some interesting, although probably stereotypically Russian and kitzhy kind of items. Lighters with the Russian Crest on them, Matriëshki (the nesting dolls), etc. I had a pretty basic, "For Boys," and "For Girls" idea about what I wanted to try to find for people. In the middle of all of my searching, I ran across a pair of women -- a mother and a daughter -- who were speaking in bits of Russian with a shop keeper, but mostly French betwixt themselves. I moved closer and asked if they needed help with anything, and while it was a bit painful for me -- because I hadn't used my French in months by this point -- I managed to help interpret between French-Russian-and English! When the pair of women found out that I spoke English, they asked me where I was from, and were *so* surprised to hear me say I was an American! I quote their initial reaction:

"We thought you were Russian! You have such pretty eyes! All the Russian girls have such pretty eyes! We thought you were Russian!"

And for the rest of the time we were standing next to each other, and I was helping them, they kept expressing their disbelief that I was not Russian!

It was a really great thing I stopped to help them though, because the place that they were standing, trying to buy some things from, was home to one of the coolest Matriëshki dolls I have seen in my entire time in Russia! They were small to begin with (the outermost layer was maybe 2.5 to 3 inches high), but they were all the more remarkable because they had TEN layers. When the shopkeeper opened them all the way up for us, the final "layer" was no bigger than the little plastic head of a straight pin! It was so cool!!!

*****

Thus, when I finally made it home, from all the chocolate and souvenir buying craziness, my pockets were a little over $100 lighter, but over 40 people at home were going to be very happy to receive a little something from the land that had stolen me away for a few months! As a shopper, I'm pretty sure I'm impressed with the fact that I averaged the cost per person out to about 2-3 dollars. Not bad, if I do say so myself.

I further impressed myself in packing in 2 hours. Although, I suppose I was cheating a bit, in that I was leaving stuff behind at my host family's house, knowing that I was coming back for the summer. That was really nice. I'd have been in SOOO much trouble, otherwise. Suffice it to say, I know I'll be mailing things home, at the end… Eek.

(But with those presents, and travel - I'm going to be a Felon -- because I'm bringing back lighters as presents… And I *know* that's not allowed… Whoops.)

**********

Now, the day had started on a terrible note; calmed down some; then got crazy again with all the present buying -- so I should have figured the rest of the day could not go smoothly. Ever the optimist however (usually), I had no reason to suspect just what was in store for me.

The trouble mounted slowly -- the taxi that was supposed to pick me up from my host family's house was an hour late in coming to get me. I was stressed out about that, because it put me on a tighter time line to get to dance practice -- and I *needed* to go there, because I knew that once I got back to the US, I'd have no places/opportunities to practice. Still, we got my things loaded up, and headed out to the dorm. I saw Jon on the way inside, dropped my stuff off as quickly as I could, and immediately turned around to beat it for the Metro, to get to practice!!

I got to the studio, a little bit late, but not by much! I breathed a sigh of relief, and looked forward to the next hour and a half or so of practice. … Then I went to change. … And discovered that I had brought one shoe from two *different* pairs! How did that even *happen*!?!? I seriously grabbed one shoe that had an inch heel on it, and another that had a *three* inch heel. … I was so incredibly frustrated!! It meant that practice was entirely impossible. So, instead of dancing, I visited with a few of my friends, with whom I exchanged my goodbyes. After watching everyone else for a few more minutes, I set off for home, hoping to get at least one, *matching* pair of shoes, in case the opportunity to practice should arise; and then I planned to return Mulzoff's hood to him, before heading back to the dorm to finish any last packing bits.

By that point, as I was in the middle of transit home, I had shaken off the floor, and the late taxi, and I was trying to forgive myself for the shoe snafu, when all of the sudden, I heard the "ding" of my phone that signaled a text message. Being that it was around 9 PM, I wondered who could be texting me. I took my phone out, and the message was from Jon (my RD). I read the message… And hit the roof. It read something akin to the following:

'I understand that you have left things behind in your host family's house; if you are moving you MUST get EVERYTHING out of their house TONIGHT!"

I had three very good reasons why that little message had me more angry than I've ever been in my entire life:

1. You may remember my earlier journals, dealing with the whole, "moving," subject -- and the fiasco that it has been, to try to talk about it. Namely, that everyone kept working behind my back, not telling me what they were doing, leading to my host mother ambushing me about the topic at terribly inconvenient times, and making it look like *I* was the one sneaking around trying to move out on them.

2. I walked *right* *by* Jon on my way to drop my things off at the dorm not 3 hours before. If he had known about this "problem," why did he not tell me then?!

3. NOBODY had said A THING to me that the moving process was going ahead, or that I would be being put any place else! Thus, my plans were set to stay with my host family for the summer.

Thus, I think it's understandable that I had a sudden urge to completely and utterly go off on a few people, or punch a few walls.

I called my host family right after that, to let them know that I was on my way home to switch out the shoes, and they also asked me what was going on - if I was moving, why had I left my stuff there - I couldn't do that; and if I was staying, they needed to know. I tried to assuage them that there had been some kind of mistake, and that this mess had been sprung on me, too, and that I would call Jon and get it worked out. Next, I called Jon, and with as much restraint as I have ever mustered in my life, politely explained my confusion to him, asked him why no one had seen fit to inform me, oh, I don't know, earlier than *the night before our departure from Russia,* that I was supposed to be moving, and told him that it was settled that I was staying with my host family for the summer, and my things would be remaining there. He said ok, and that was it.

So, essentially, I had even more white hairs added to my head for ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. Charming.

I arrived at my host family's house, and they let me in - because I had already turned their key back to them, not expecting to return until June! - and explained to them what a mess had been made of my situation, but that it was all smoothed over, I was in fact, staying with them during the summer. We said goodbye again, and I headed for the one place in all of Moscow that I knew wasn't going to cause me any grief: my Marines' House.

**********

Mulzoff picked me up at the gate, and even from when I'd called him to let him know I was on my way, he knew I hadn't had a great evening. As we walked in to the House, I told him that the night had just been one irritating experience, followed by another, with exponential growth in the, "level of irritation." I gave him his hoodie back, and we walked into the bar, to join Conard and Williams, who were already there.

It seemed that most everybody had had some kind of a bad day -- so there we all were, catharthsis-ing at the bar. Ha ha ha! I just listened to them, and finally, they looked at me, and I got something of the, 'You look absolutely miserable,' or that sort -- at which point, I explained how my morning and evening had gone -- and all of them were right on my side about how stupid and ridiculous my run-around treatment had been, and offered sympathy for the sillier things (like the mis-mated shoes).

Once we got through all of the "bad day less-than-pleasantries," the boys tucked in to sharing sea stories, and I just sat back to enjoy the ride. I didn't want to leave. I could have sat there all night listening to their stories; but perhaps, more than that, it was just that the calmness and feeling of security of being around my guys was such a de-stresser that I really just didn't want to go. As well as the fact that I knew I was gonna miss them like crazy while I was gone!

Eventually, I called it a night with them -- but it was more of a morning, at that point. I left around 12:45 AM - just in time to get to the Metro to go one stop!

I walked back to the dorm, got up to my room, where, thankfully the other girl was still up herself. She went to bed not too long after I got back -- but she was a very heavy sleeper, which gave me the freedom to do what I needed to do, concerning my need to finish packing.

Really, what I was doing was making 41 little present baggies for people.

Which, essentially, took all night -- so that I laid down for about 1 hour of sleep….