Behemoths

Blow out the candles and grab a bottle of champagne, dear reader. It’s not every day you get to break your cousin’s record for number of blog posts from a foreign country. Take that, NASA.

Business aside, it’s been an eventful week in the Russian Federation. Oh, and a brief explanation for my fine feline friend pictured above. In the previous post, I mentioned that I would be meeting my host family this week. As it turns out, I’m an honest man and one who did, in fact, meet his host family which consists of 1.) Lovely Russian Grandmother and 2.) Behemoth, her cat (pictured above). It’s important to mention that the cat’s real name is not Behemoth but Basinka, and according to Article 250 of the U.N. Convention on the Law of the Sea and other matters no one cares about, I call the cat Behemoth in reference to Mikhail Bulgakov’s famed novel The Master & Margarita; in which one of the devil’s henchmen, a large cat, is consistently meddling in other people’s lives in dubious and often insidious ways. I’ll tell you about it in a second.

I met Ludmila at six oclock this past Wednesday in the lobby of my dormitory. After introductions, we set out for her apartment. The apartment is a fair twenty-five minute walk from the dormitory—well within the famed Lenz “walking distance” as coined by one of my uncles. In any case, Ludmila walked quickly while I professed my love for the city her family has stayed in for 100 years. When we were just outside the apartment tower, she pointed up and muttered something about a better view. Fateful words. When we entered the apartment, I took my shoes off and prayed she had slippers my size. To provide a touch of context, Russians don’t stroll about in their homes in socks like barbarians! No! “Wear comfortable flip flops, Petrik!” No complaints from me, Russia. Luckily, Ludmila’s grandchildren are taller than me and she had slippers my size. Clown feet, I know. She showed me to the room pictured below and directed me to help myself to the books while she prepared dinner.

Enter Behemoth, the devil’s henchman. At the table on the left side of the room, I helped myself to an old book outlining the history of the city. Behemoth must run this part of town, because he leapt onto the table and plopped his furry romp right onto the book I was reading. Message received, cat. I moved him on the floor. He came back up and started shedding all over the table while maintaining eye contact. I’ve never been taunted by a cat before. It’s more frustrating than I expected. Anyway, Ludmila announced from the other room that dinner was ready so I chased Behemoth off the table and tried to clean off his shedding before Ludmila entered the room. She asked what I was doing rubbing my hands on a wooden table. I reflexively said “I like table.” Might as well have said “I love lamp.” First impressions anyway… Fifteen minutes in and I already know this cat and I are going to have more beef than a Japanese steak house.

Ludmila made a lovely dinner with marinated tomatoes, a heavy salad, heavy Russian pancakes stuffed with rice, meat, and mushrooms; watermelon, chocolates and pastries for dessert. But she knows the way to my heart and gave me a hot mug of tea. She also told me that the room I was in earlier would be mine for the duration of my stay. I wasn’t sure I heard her right because, dear reader, the view is too much for one human to handle. I’ll include a picture when I move in, so for now it’s my word and your internet connection that we have to trust.

The following are pictures from Novgorod, Russia-- get your own map I don't have one.

Conversation club: No—fair guess, but not the new late night spot for your Irish-American interlocutor. Conversation club, aka Ambassadors club aka Language Deficit Commission aka Matchmaking Ceremony St. Petersburg 2016 is a small room comprised of Russian students looking to learn English, and you guessed it, dear reader, American students who would like to learn Russian. Once a week, we all speak in English to help them, and another day in the same week everyone speaks Russian so they can help us. It’s comprised mostly of Russian girls who are very interested in learning nuances in English. As a connoisseur of colloquialisms, a vice chairman of vernacular, and a sultan of slang, I feel qualified to lend my two cents (see what I mean). They are curious about what American girls are like. I have sidestepped the question, but have noticed some differences that I might touch on in a later post. I can already hear the cogs turning in my uncles’ heads with regards to the best way to tease me about some Russian bride to be. No plans for rings today, dearest uncles. 

And that’s what the Risk board looks like right now. We’re holding down Australia and making plans to crawl to Alaska for expansion into North America. In other words, things are going well, and we have plans to do even more with our time here. So finish that champagne, tell your cousins you love them, and until next time, dear reader, may your tea stay warm and your Natural Ice stay cold.