I have officially hit the point where it is roughly two weeks (maybe less, depending on when I actually have a chance to post this) until I return to the states. Granted, this is not all bad, as I will get to see my friends and family etc., but I still can’t help but be a little sad to be leaving this country (what feels like) so soon. Especially since my Russian has finally gotten to a point where I’ve noticed real improvement across the board (today my phonetics teacher was amazed that I hadn’t had much intense phonetics drilling in my past classes. You know, because I’m awesome), I somewhat dread knowing that within a couple of weeks of not speaking any Russian, I will probably lose a solid 50% of this improvement. However, in order to ready myself for transition, I have decided to compile a list of the little things that I will be genuinely looking forward to upon my return (again, apart from the obvious).
-Food: While Russian cuisine can be quite tasty, there are a few areas that could use improvement. Example: dill is meant to be a seasoning, and I will be filled with glee when it returns to such a state, as opposed to being a substantial portion of the calories of every meal I eat. Also, while I have learned to enjoy salads here, I’ll look forward to a point when sour cream or mayonnaise are no longer considered acceptable as “dressings”.
-Laundry: Russian apartments are small. Really small. Thusly, so are their washing machines. And just forget about dryers because they are like snipes: oft heard of, but never seen. This means two things: laundry is done in several small loads that takes almost an entire day to two days to complete, and then you have to tack on another day or two for your clothing to line dry. This would be all well and good if my host family didn’t leave clothes to soak and subsequently dry in the shower. This means each week I am faced with the decision of whether I want to have an acceptable body odor, or wear clean clothing. It is not a decision I enjoy as no matter what I choose, something on my body is dirty and gross. Also, line-dried socks feel like slipping my feet into cardboard.
-Making Purchases: While the dollar-to-ruble exchange rate is awesome for any traveler fortunate enough to have the former, there is a slight problem. See, my bank charges me $4 every time I make a withdrawal here, so I like to make sure it’s a worthwhile withdrawal (as getting nickled and dimed to death because Chase can’t catch up with Citibank, which has branches all over the city, makes me cringe). This means every time I take out money, I am saddled with thousand-ruble bills. The problem? Russians are so goddamn lazy that sometimes they would rather not make a sale than make change for you. So even though I have roughly one hundred dollars worth of Rubles in my wallet after a trip to the ATM, to just about every store in the city, I might as well have no money, so I then have to make an expensive and frivolous purchase to justify using a thousand just so I can have smaller bills to get the little things. Like food.
-Beverages: Again, there are many things to hail here. Soda is cheap and made with cane sugar, they make Red Bulls in half-liter cans, and you can walk down the street double-fisting cans of Baltika (the tastiest beer this side of the Neva) and if you’re not acting like a drunk asshole, no cops will give you problems. However, there is a Russian superstition that cold causes sickness because when it’s cold out, everyone gets sick. I guess no one bothered to explain to them that people get sick from huddling inside and turning their tiny apartments into tiny petri dishes. Anyway, a result of this superstition is that their definition of cold drinks generally means “brought back a few degrees from boiling”. To put it in the terms of a rational person sans hyperbole, generally a few degrees below room temperature. Vending machines are usually an OK way around this, and sometimes at grocery stores the refrigerators are for more than show (but don’t hold your breath), but any bar, restaurant, or street vendor that advertises “Kholodnie Napitki” (Cold Drinks) is simply lying to you. And forget about ice, because the water here makes New Jersey seem like Palm freaking Springs, so no one ever bothers making it.
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