Russia Adventures Part 3!!!

Wrapping it up as best as possible here! I have been so busy and going non-stop, but I am determined to finish what I have started and share my last few experiences abroad with you! I will do my best, from memory, to wrap up my trip to Russia, then post my final entry (which is already written actually...). So, here it goes, the end of my story.

Last time I told you about my trips to the museums, Savior on Spilled Blood Cathedral, gypsy market, and not-ballet. We resume this story on the Monday after the not-ballet. That day Cyrus had school, so I decided to be a big girl and take on scary Russia- alone! Hey, I figured I'd have to do it in Moscow, so a day trip through St. Petersburg should be a good warm-up. I am proud to say that I successfully conquered an hour metro ride, another hour on a bus (after going the wrong way for a few stops the first time), all without my парен bodyguard! And using what little Russian I had, I found my way to Царское Село (pron. Tsarskoye  Selo, Tsar's Palace) and Catherine's Palace! What a site! A huge beautifully blue palace perched among the dilapidated town, surrounded by lakes and lots of green space! It was a beautiful day to visit as well, which further magnified the wonder of the area. I went inside and took the tour through the palace, took pictures I wasn't supposed to take, and got lost once or twice while milling through various tour groups. It was a good day, and gave me the confidence I needed to take on Moscow!

However, I had yet to buy my train tickets to Moscow. I tried online, but (we found out later) they didn't accept my American card over the interwebs. So, I was forced to have that complicated, intimidating interaction with the ticket lady at the train station- a challenge I was convinced I wold fail. I waited in line for 40 nail-biting minutes before getting to the front. It wasn't a long line or anything, it just took FOREVER!!! Gotta love Russia, confirming all of my stereotypes. Anyway, I was next up, but the man in front of me gave me pause. He wasn't fluent in Russian, obviously, but instead of politely apologizing and going about his business the best he could, he was defensive and forward and rude even by Russian standards. What's more, he was trying to get a ticket for his friend using his friend's passport- a doomed effort that only succeeded in angering both the man and ticket woman. So, when he left in a fluster, leaving a flustered ticket woman behind, I was naturally wary of rushing up, as a fellow foreigner, to try and negotiate with her. Luckily, Cyrus gave me the best advice of my life, and I had saved the screen shot of the ticket I wanted to my phone- date, time and all! This made the transaction go exceptionally smoother than expected. After a lot of apologizing over the state of my Russian, one mis-understandings, and several hand-wavy motions later, I walked out proud with my tickets to Moscow in hand!

Later that day I met Cyrus in front of his school to visit the Smolney Cathedral and climb the bell tower. The next day I went to class with him and participated in Russian discussion well enough! The next day, that Thursday, was my the day I was to leave for my overnight train ride to Moscow. Cyrus and I packed up our stuff from the hostel and lugged my TON of stuff to Smolney while he went to class and I did a few small sight-seeing adventures. We then lugged all of it back on the metro and rode an hour away to where he lived with his host family. Funny thing about being a girl in Russia- you never get stopped at the metro gates. Even though I was carrying more stuff, Cyrus was the one who got stopped and questioned! This was a first for him since I had been there, however. I guess the cops assume that if you have a девушка  (girlfriend) with you, you're not a terrorist. XD Once we arrived at his host family's flat, I stored my large suitcase in his room (not wanting to carry more than was necessary to Moscow) and we went to one more Crossfit before catching my train.

Cyrus dropped me off, but couldn't stay since my train would leave late enough that staying would have stranded him in the city for the night till the metro re-opened and the bridge lowered (they raise the bridge at night- the only public exit from the city at that hour). We said our goodbyes (I was coming back in a few days, so they weren't that dramatic) and I walked through the low-level security gates into the St. Petersburg night air to find my compartment. I found my wagon well enough, but ended up in the wrong compartment and had to be moved later... oops. The norms of the Russian trains were so different to the ones in Germany though. No one was getting ready for bed though it was past 11:30, the compartments were much nicer with free food boxes for each person, and (on the trip there) most everyone kept to themselves. The beds were really comfy too and I had no problems sleeping the night away.

Well, that ends my time in St. Petersburg! The pictures below are of the last two sights I saw before I left- St. Isacc's Cathedral and a statue that is NOT the bronze horseman... Next stop, Moscow!!! I figured I'd post two medium sized blogs rather than one HUGE one. So, you have one more to wait before my final post about England! Eventually I may also do a 're-entry' blog. So... Just keep posted! Thanks for reading and keeping up with me as I slowly finish this blog. But hey, at least I'm finishing this!

Russia Adventures!!! Part 2

And the saga continues between my epic amounts of studying revising... But I press on, writing this mostly because I know I'll want to look at it after I'm home (only 30 more days!).

Yes we did bake them in a frying pan in the oven

Like I had said in my last post, that first weekend together wasn't very exciting. We went to the Галерея (Galleria) a few times, Cyrus got a hair cut, and we made Paleo chocolate chip cookies (which were delicious- haters). :) We also checked out Cyrus's university, Смольный Институт (Smolney Institute) and the accompanying собор (cathedral), though we didn't actually go into the собор till a few weeks later. Most of the rest of the time we watched stupid internet videos while I recovered from travel and adjusted to Russia and all of her rules. So many rules! For example:


Russian Rule # 1: Girls wear make-up, always, and must dress nicely. End of story. You will never see a Russian woman in anything less than business casual (regardless of the business...), and if you do not comply you will be given death stares until you're pressured to run into the nearest О'Кей (O.K.- it's a store like Target) and buy some nicer clothes because you can't bear riding the metro back home and taking all of the hate. I learned this the hard way. The minute I put on jeans again, though, it was like some invisible siren turned off and I was once again a part of the crowd. Learned my lesson the first time. On the other hand, men do what they want, when they want.


Russian Rule #2: Do not show exposed legs (if you're female). If you do decide to wear something that shows any skin below your belt-line you must be wearing stockings or tights. Exposed legs are the cultural symbol for prostitute.

Russian Rule #3: If you're lucky enough to have a парен (boyfriend), follow him. He knows best. This includes standing in the corner of the metro car while he stands guard in front of you- trapping you in. He will also direct you where to sit on the metro, where to walk, and usually does any and all talking, business transactions, and carrying of heavy things. They also make for great bodyguards. This is not to imply that Russian women are subservient puppies (well, younger girls may be a bit), but that there are defined gender roles that you do not cross. Though, the benefit of bodyguard can REALLY come in handy. ;)

Russian Rules #4-15: Never jay-walk (walking when you have the green man is dangerous enough), Бабушки (grandmas) can kill- heck they've survived this long..., Do not make eye contact or smile at strangers, Do not approach any dog, Rubles are basically monopoly money, Always have exact change, The change is useless otherwise, The word Можно (pron. Mozhna) is very polite with various meanings and will get you just about anything, Never whistle, Never sit on pavement (for girls only), Do NOT eat on the metro, Apologizing for your terrible Russian before speaking will improve customer service dramatically (usually), and on and on...

Don't get me wrong though, Russian people are very nice, very romantic, very proud people. It's not a tyrannical regime of men suppressing women, or streets full of angry stares. Women have a lot of strength- in their own right. It's a fascinating dynamic that must be looked at and experienced with an open mind and willingness to participate in a culture with a collectivist mindset much different from the West's individualistic culture. That being said, Russia is also large and diverse and there are always exceptions to every rule. They also tend to be kind of xenophobic and can spot a foreigner a mile away- which is why Cyrus and I did our utmost best to blend in and tread lightly around all of the cultural norms.

All of this in mind, we set off for our first sight-seeing opportunity of the trip- the Hermitage! A large, old palace that has since been converted into a breath-taking and vast art museum. Each room is a different design with artifacts taken from all over the world (including Great Britain- the kings of stealing other people's artifacts). Impressively, Russia has held on to a lot of her masterpieces, only allowing the lucky few within her borders to marvel at them. Unfortunately, I don't think we were allowed to take pictures, and I left my phone in the coat check room (ALWAYS check your coat) assuming as much. But I can tell you, we walked around for at least two hours and still didn't see everything! We did see the famous peacock clock, the throne room, and hundreds of priceless pieces of work. And, outside of the Hermitage, we saw monkeys in jackets! I got a stealth video of them too so I wouldn't have to pay for a picture with them. XD Needless to say, a wonderful first day as a tourist.

Now, I have to be honest, I don't exactly remember what order we did everything in, or what days we did what. So, I'm going to be very vague from here on out with 'the next day we did...' meaning I have no clue, but it was roughly some period of time after the previous event and before I left... Just felt that confessing that detail was crucial...

Anyway, the next day was our first day of Crossfit! Yes, I workout on my vacations- don't judge me. I paid for three Crossfit sessions while I was there in Russia. By the fourth day I was kinda unsure why I had paid at all. But Cyrus did make a good point that I needed to make my monetary, as well as physical, sacrifices to the demi-god trainer known as The Pavel. Apparently even Crossfit demi-gods have to pay rent. Anyway, not wanting to fill our schedules, so we would have maximum time for workout destruction and recovery, we decided to only do one thing- check out the military surplus store called Сплав (pron. Splav, apparently translates into 'Alloy'). This store is full of Ruski, paramilitary gadget-hacks including the shovel-knife, swiss army cutlery, and uniforms from almost every military force around the world. Clearly, this was Cyrus's nirvana. And not only was it full of scary Ruski men, it was in a basement in the middle of one of the sketchiest neighborhoods I visited in Russia- and when I feel uncomfortable in an area, that's saying something. The store itself was wonderful though and I had to stop myself from buying one of the face scarves you always see the Marines in Afghanistan wearing. But we bought what we came for (and insanely expensive pair of Russian military(?) pants for Cyrus), and headed off to training. Now, I assume you don't care to know exactly how much we lifted how many times, but suffice it to say it was a lot and many. Even tore up my hands during one of the workouts shedding blood for the cult of Crossfit. I do love Crossfit though and especially when Cyrus and I can do it together- no matter what country XD.

As for touristing, the next day we got back into it. Visiting the wonders of Kunstkamera and the Artillery Museum. Kunstkamera is a museum of Peter the First's personal collection of interesting, and disturbing, artifacts and... beings. You see, Tsar Peter I was considered a freak for being unusually tall (6' 8"- a giant for the times) so he liked to surround himself with other 'freaks'. He also encouraged the study of birth abnormalities and 'accidents of nature', ordering for the still-born, malformed children to be sent to him from all over the country. He then kept these with his other interesting artifacts and put them on display where they are still pristinely preserved to this day. I have to admit, even I had a hard time looking at the cyclopses, fetuses without limbs, and fully formed legs missing the upper half of the body. What was even more curious was that scattered among these still-borns were mounted animals, fish of an unusual species, or chickens also with abnormalities. It was something I won't easily forget.
The walk through the museum didn't take long though, and we were soon off to check out the Artillery museum- a welcome contrast. I even got a discount on my tickets because I could speak Russian to the ticket woman! Inside, Cyrus showed me how to take apart and re-assemble an AK-47 rifle and pointed out all of his favorite World War weapons. The бабушка (pron. babushka, translation- grandma) running the AK booth was overjoyed that I- a Russian girl- was willing and able to take apart and put back together the rifle. She didn't even know Cyrus or I were not Russian- we're good. We then ended the day with a hostel dinner and an interesting talk with a Russian man in the hostel about the situation in Crimea. Unlike in the West, the number one topic of small-talk between Russians is politics, closely followed by how much money you make or how much your flat costs. These topics are common place in this society- a fact that bewilders and even insults most Westerners.

The next day Cyrus showed me the famous Nevsky Prospekt as we walked to the Saviour on Spilled Blood Cathedral (the St. Basil's of St. Petersburg). The Prospekt was really cool. Mostly tourist shops, cafes, and diners, but still an awesome sight. The cathedral was better though. Beautiful onion domes on the outside and covered in mosaics of saints and Bible stories on the inside. Every square inch of wall a colored stone. Another testament to the beauty of Russia. But I also wanted to see the less gold-trimmed side of Russia as well.

So, that weekend, we went up to the large outdoor market of St. Petersburg- what we like to call the gypsy market. It was basically a flea market, but bigger, less organized, and full of more random crap. Old ladies and surly men selling their wares which have been laid out on a blanket on the soggy ground. I wouldn't be surprised if some of the items had just been picked up from the dumpster in a last-ditch-effort to make a buck. War-torn vets were selling gas masks and deactivated grenades from folding tables while (gypsy) children managed store fronts and ran through the crowds. The place was massive. I bought a little чебурашка (pron. cheburashka) doll- a purchase that has always been too expensive in America. My 5 year old me was ecstatic! I love that little children's show character!

The next day Cyrus and I were to go see the ballet Cinderella! However, somehow neither of us read the ticket correctly and realized too late that the 'ballet' was actually an opera. I have to admit, I was disappointed I didn't get to see my Russian ballet- but what an experience the Russian opera was! Expecting a ballet, we both were very over-dressed since, not only was this ballet an opera, but it was a kid's opera (which is a thing in Russia). So parents in their most formal casual wear were drug by tons of children into this opera venue to see this fairytale classic. I was impressed with the children though. The production was two hours (with an intermission) of opera singing and stage acting that would bore most adults I know, much less kids. But they were honestly interested in the show- a culture where opera is our version of movies or 'Yo Gaba Gaba' concerts. It was a beautiful performance, and I'm really glad I got to at least see a production- even if it wasn't a ballet. :)

Well... I am tired of writing. And I bet you are tired of reading. So, I hate to draw this out anymore, but unfortunately my time in Russia was too amazing and you will just have to look forward to Part 3 (and probably 4) as I get the time and energy to write them. Hope you have enjoyed reading this so far. And if not- well good thing I'm writing it for future me anyway. ;D Be back soon!

Russia Adventures!!! Part 1

"There is a race of men that don't fit in,

A race that can't sit still;

So they break the hearts of kith and kin, 

And they roam the world at will.

They range the field and rove the flood, 

And they climb the mountain's crest;

Their's is the curse of the gypsy blood, 

And they don't know how to rest.” 

― Robert W. Service

I've never found a more perfect quote in my life. The curse of the gypsy blood keeps me moving forward, even when I'm too tired to stand. Each adventure will be my last, I think, until I sit again. (Go ahead, quote me ;D )

Coming off of my Russia high, I can tell you one thing: There is no better feeling than living out a life dream. That sense of accomplishment, of awe, of fulfillment. Knowing your effort and patience has led you to this point... There is also, no worse feeling. The sense of an ending, as that thing that has always been in the back of your mind is now realized, and gone. This is how I felt when looking upon St. Basil's Cathedral in Moscow. An image I've yearned to see all of my life- towering in front of me. Attainment marbled with resolution (yup, just made that a verb). But then, a third emotion, more powerful than the other two, struck me. A feeling I can only describe as Wanderlust- the feeling of a boundless future of endless possibilities. I felt beyond free, no longer needing to realize this deep-seeded goal I've carried since I was old enough to remember, no; my future is limitless. I thought I would be satiated or satisfied, but I forgot who I was dealing with. Now, I have just cleared a space on my bucket list to be filled with God knows what.

My Gypsy Caravan

Enough of my ranting though, and time to chronicle my awesome adventures in the Motherland! And, not that you need any warning by now, but this may take a few posts...

So, starting the day before day one.. (Bear with me, there is a reason). So for a week(ish) leading up to my departure I had been working on finalizing a terrible research paper for uni. I say terrible, because the process was terrible, the content of the paper was amazing of course. However, said paper was due the day I was supposed to be in Russia. This was because, for some reason, past Lexi decided it was a good idea to schedule an EARLY plane flight to St. Petersburg on the last Friday of term. Maybe she just wasn't thinking, maybe she really wanted to get out of England, or maybe she just wanted to miss class. Either way, past Lexi screwed future Lexi and booked a plane at 6 am on that Friday (fully aware the Tube wouldn't be open yet then). So there I was, in the library at midnight, going off of only 4 hours of sleep from the night before and about 5 Costa coffees, trying to finalize this bane-of-my-existence research paper. Oh, and did I mention I hadn't packed yet? (Classic me). To top this situation all off, I had to catch the bus in two and a half hours since the Tube wouldn't open till my plane was to leave, and the bus ride to Heathrow was two hours long, putting me at the check-in a comfy 30 minutes before check-in closed. Plenty of time planned for Murphey.

Me with no sleep

With great joy and a few sharp words I submitted my paper and made the bus ride back home. I immediately packed, took a shower, and walked right back out of the door. By the grace of God, I just managed to cross the street to catch my first bus as it was pulling up. Then, through further miracles, made it to the second bus as it was pulling away. And I mean that literally. The bus was pulling away from the stop as I ran (clumsily with my luggage) up to it. In fact, the only reason I didn't miss that bus was because a woman much crazier than I am (I know, hard to believe right?) ran out into the street in front of the bus (not exaggerating) to stop it and beg to get on. So, of course, I followed suit and just made it on. Luckily it was about 3am, so not many other cars were on the road... The ensuing ride to the airport was long and boring and freezing as my body began to shut down in an effort to force me to sleep. Finally, we arrived on time and I got off at Terminal 5, where I've always gotten off at, because I thought that was the international terminal. I was wrong. I was supposed to be at Terminal 1- a 10 minute bus ride away. As soon as I realized my mistake I ran back outside (not a very easy thing to do in such a large airport and going off of no sleep) to just catch the same bus and driver headed back the other way. By this point the man had taken pity on this poor, lunatic of a girl and let me hitch a ride to Terminal 1 for free. Unfortunately for me, this put me behind schedule. Panicky, and still freezing, I ran into Terminal 1 and just made it into the queue for Swiss airways- and waited. Getting my boarding pass and luggage checked took forever! But a long wait, one cranky Swiss airlines employee, and an invasive security check later and I was at my gate.

Swiss Alps viewed from the plane!

They gave me chocolate!!!

At this point I still didn't believe this was all happening. Blame it on the 36 hours of coffee-fueled rampage, but it wouldn't actually hit me that I was going to Russia until day two of being IN Russia. As for the flights, they were pretty uneventful. I sat at the first gate long enough to message my family (who were just going to bed) and Cyurs (who was just getting up for the day). I managed about 30 minutes of sleep before landing in Zurich, where I walked off of the first plane and onto the next without pause (we were a little behind schedule). The second flight I got about an hour or so of sleep before landing.

St. Petersburg!

Finally! Saint Petersburg Russia!!!

If Russia is good for only one thing- it's living up to expectations. Within the first 10 minutes of landing, my stereotype of Russia being poorly organized and not well functioning was fulfilled. After sitting in park for a while, the pilot came over the intercom and informed us that we were waiting on the steps to arrive since we were being let off on the tarmac, and not at a gate. Then, almost as soon as the steps arrived, our buses that were to be transporting us (and that were there previously) had disappeared, causing us to have to wait for replacements. It was endlessly entertaining.

Caveat: This isn't to imply that Russians are lazy or incompetent people, far from it. It's just that, unlike the west, Russian society does only what is needed to accomplish a goal with little concern for repercussions, focusing on the immediate ends and not the means. Therefore, when given a task they will perform it when, and for as long as, it suits them which may lead to miss-communications and confusion at times.

After being packed into the sardine can that was the маршрутка (pron. Marshrootka, meaning- taxi-bus), I found myself staring down a harsh-looking customs woman who seemed way too interested in my passport for my liking. Not wanting to risk annoying her, though, I just stood there quietly awaiting judgment. Then, with a swoop of her hand, she stamped my visa and I was in! Excited to see Cyrus, and overjoyed at the prospect of being able to sleep (and stay in Russia), I scurried out of the dungeon-like customs booths to where the crowd of people were meeting their arrivals. As the automatic doors slid open I did a quick scan for him, half wanting him to surprise me, half wanting to just see him already.

But neither things happened. Nothing happened. He wasn't there. I panicked. I was sure I told him when I was getting in. How would I contact him? Where was I supposed to go? Was he ok? I walked towards the exits, pausing near a старбакс кофе (pron. Starbucks Coffee) to check for wifi- there was none. So I stood there, weighing my options. Just as I was about to scrounge up what courage I could muster on such a sleepy mind, two heavy hands grasped my shoulders and I turned around to see a smiling Cyrus- bandanna on and all. I hugged him excitedly as he lifted me up and explained that Russia had (unbeknownst to him) closed their old airport. So he went to where it was, only to be sent away without further instruction. He ended up asking several random Russians (a terrifying prospect when you can only understand most of what they're saying) where the new one was and had only just arrived. I didn't care though. I was just so relieved that he was there! And now I could switch off my brain and let him lead me around this foreign city like a lost puppy.

I don't remember much else from that day. I know we went to get food after checking into the hostel and that I was effectively useless. I also know I didn't sleep until the evening in an attempt to adjust quicker- making that at least 48 hours without sleep. I do remember that getting into the hostel was an effort. The entrance was a sketchy door off of the street with a number lock (so we had to wait for someone to go out to get in) that led to a stairway. The reception for the hostel was on the third floor, which is apparently common in Russia (it was this way in Moscow and the second St. P hostel as well). I also remember the next day, while I was still a bit jet-lagged, we went to the awesome Галерея (pron. Galereya) mall to look around. It was extravagant and as big as any western mall- something I haven't seen since Berlin (and even those weren't as nice). But what made me laugh was that on the way there we saw a man on a homemade motorcycle which was basically a bicycle with a motor somehow strapped up to it. Made my day. Typical Russia to have such crappy ghetto-like stuff surrounding these large priceless, prestigious landmarks.

The rest of the weekend was really relaxed as we were both officially on break. We didn't get into any real sight-seeing or adventures till later, but that is for the next post. I am tired of writing for now. But will be back with everything about St. P and Moscow after a bit. Keep checking back. :)

Just Another Day in London

Ok. Blogging. I have been so bad at doing this lately. You'll be glad to know that nothing of real consequence has happened since term has started back up again though. So, you're not missing anything. I just wanted to also take this second to point out to friends (Peter) that this is evidence that my life is not totally amazing and full of adventures. I mean, it is. But mostly I'm stuck studying or doing normal people stuff, waiting for my next big travel! When you live in a foreign country, life is an adventure. Even though I've lived in this country for almost six months now (if you count December when I was away... which I do) I am still learning new things everyday and am constantly amazed by the subtle differences in my life here compared to what it was like back home. For example, just recently I've learned that a band-aid is a plaster and you eat jacket potatoes (baked potatoes) with tuna and mayo on top (this was new to me). All of these little things I find infinitely interesting, but don't quite think I'd be able to dedicate an entire blog to them. I am also blaming my lack of posting on coming exam season if you couldn't tell. For example, I'm pretty programmed at the moment to write in statement-evidence paragraphs, indicating essays are imminent. All of these things culminate into me not being motivated to write (or read) another word and spending the better part of my days forcing myself to do exactly that. But today is different. Today I woke up early, so I will blog! At least update you on what has been going on recently so you have proof that I actually do exist and some drone hasn't taken over my Facebook pretending to be me............... Honestly, I'm still here.

Once term started back up, there wasn't much going on. It was just a waiting game till reading week when I would finally get to go back and visit my extended family in Ipswich! It's actually a village called Kirton, but the station I come into- and the moment my responsibility for the week ends- is Ipswich. Before I went there though I did have a good time with one of my flatmates going to Chinese New Year. It wasn't the greatest, but it was not studying, so I was happy. What was the greatest, though, was the dinner another one of my other flatmates made. We had another family dinner made by our Vietnamese flatmate to celebrate Chinese New Year. She made traditional Vietnamese food which was DELICIOUS! I couldn't get enough! It was especially wonderful because Asian cultures rely HEAVILY on rice, so I could eat it! Whereas Western-Chinese food has a bunch of gluten and soy sauce and extra stuff in it, her authentic dishes (most ingredients straight from Vietnam) were mainly rice, so I could even eat the spring rolls! So much happiness in such little food.

During this time I had also enrolled in some fitness classes at the campus gym. It's a small gym, much smaller than any campus gym I've ever seen in America, but it has the necessities. It's also student union run since, apparently, fitness is not as big a priority in universities here as it is in America. But I have found some really good classes that have kept me from going crazy during this stressful term. Anyway, after Chinese New Year, the next big thing was reading week! This is the same type of break we had last term when I visited Kirton. It's kinda like Autumn (NOT Fall) and Spring Break. But not. Spring Break is end of term and it lasts for a month, but it's not the END of term since you come back after that month and take exams.... Let's not talk about exams. Anyway, went to Kirton! Had a blast! I was able to spend more time with everyone this time as well and my vacation was well spent! I got to try some more traditional English food- like Clotted Cream!!! I don't know why EVERYONE in the world doesn't have clotted cream, but they should!

Side note- I have noticed that every country does their dairy differently. The best milk seems to be in Germany. The secondary dairy products like Tvorog (kinda cottage cheese), Kefir and Smytana (kinda sour cream) are in Russia (personal account yet to come). And England seems to be the best with creams like clotted cream and ice cream, and some cheeses (though my French flatmate insists that France has the best cheese). All of these variations are hard to describe until you actually try them. All the food is so unique in ways that you wouldn't think of yourself, but once you have experienced it, can't imagine how you've never tried it or thought of it!Ok- side note over.

Kirton was, as always, relaxing and it was very nice seeing family, going to the beautiful beach, playing on the playground- getting to be a kid again, and running through the clean countryside. And being fed great food! Even though the girls did get a bit overwhelming at times, I still loved every minute! It gave me energy to come back and face the second half of term, which is where I am now. Half way through the second half. The only exciting things that have happened these past 2 ½ weeks are the weather is starting to warm up (excited! But skeptical), I have had some good weekends and meals out with friends to keep me from going book-crazy, and I have successfully submitted and received my visa for Russia!!! Can't wait to visit in a few weeks! Probably one of the only things that's keeping me going right now. That and all of these new recipes I'm trying. I have found some really creative uses for vegetables, which is good because they are the cheapest food I can buy. Making new creations and finding ways to fit more nutrition in my life has been an exciting and relaxing endeavor. I find cooking/baking, as well as working out, relaxing- don't judge me.

Well, this may very well be my shortest blog to date. You're welcome. :) But there has honestly been nothing too noteworthy or out of the ordinary going on lately. My next big post will probably be Russia! Cannot tell you how pumped I am for that! Been practicing my Russian by watching Russian Scooby Do cartoons- very effective! :D Till next time friends! - До Свидания

LONDON! and the last leg of winter

I have decided that I have left whoever's interested in reading this in anticipation for long enough! You have passed the test of loyalty to my blog and shall now reap the rewards of another post! Actually, I have just been too busy reading, writing for uni, and lying on my bed in a state of apathy to finish my Winter Saga lately. But I have woken up (albeit slightly ill) with a surprising amount of motivation. Better take this opportunity to use my powers for good. SO! Finally!!! The end of the Winter Saga- Cyrus and I in London!

Well... I should actually start out with our adventures getting there. We woke up early that Saturday morning giving ourselves enough time to eat, pack, and check out before arriving at the train station plenty early. We could not afford to miss this train- our first day-time train ride of any consequence. First stop, Brussels. We had to travel there before catching the underwater channel/tunnel (chunnel) train to London (which sounds much more exciting than it actually was). The lay-over in Brussels was only about an hour, though, so we knew we wouldn't be able to do any exploring. While some may be able to take a peak at areas of interest in under an hour, we tend to become side-tracked and easily get lost... Once in Brussels we were given the full treatment of security. Knowing the train was from Amsterdam, we were greeted at the platform by drug dogs and bored-looking, yet intimidating, police officers. Cyrus and I shuffled along as the dogs (who were having WAY too good of a time) wildly sniffed at everything their noses could reach.

Finally through (no we were not carrying anything illegal in case you were wondering), we proceeded to figure out where to catch the Chunnel. However, I forgot that in Brussels, everything is in French- yet another language neither of us knew. We bumbbled around for a few moments before spotting an obvious information desk, complete with a long line. Once at the front, we asked the man (who spoke broken English) where we could find the Chunnel to London. “Chunnel,” I forgot, is extremely colloquial however, causing the man to get rather peeved as I repeated myself and finally found the words “Eurostar” and “London.” At this point, we proceeded to look like even more idiotic Americans than we had already established as the man angrily gestured to the left (in in way that seemed more like he was shooing us) towards a large sign reading “EUROSTAR TO LONDON.” Apparently, we missed that somehow the first time...

Once at the gate we were met with the infamous hassles and security measures of London. It was almost as bad as getting on a plane. We filled out “Landing Cards” and went through a TSA-style baggage check and security scan. It really wasn't that bad, but more than we had received anywhere else. But who cares? We had made it to our platform and in no time boarded the train. The ride was uneventful. The Chunnel is just what it sounds like- a long tunnel. We proudly congratulated ourselves on completing another leg of our journey, and fell asleep. A few hours later, we woke up in London, King's Cross/St. Pancras station getting off ¾ of the way between platforms 9 and 10 (Harry Potter reference)! Welcome to London! :D We rushed downstairs excited to unpack when we ran into the most London-y phenomenon- a queue (line). What better first impression to give of London? Once through immigration, we made our way to my flat and collapsed- exhausted.

The rest of the week was surprisingly uneventful. Cyrus had his Crossfit days already planned out and became a pro at the underground while I bounced between classes as my first week back had started. In the afternoons we would meet up back at the flat with grand plans to sight-see and be tourists. However, between the exhaustion from our month of traveling (Cyrus especially as he was still “traveling”), and the alluring comforts of doing nothing but watch computer-TV, we ended up staying in more often than not. In those first few days we did manage to explore the British Museum, though! Basically a museum of everything the Brits have stolen from everyone else, including parts of the Parthenon. It was really cool seeing mummies and bits of world history (pics from the gift shop). Cyrus also took me out to a very nice gluten-free place for a delicious, Celiac-Friendly dinner during that week. We also made it up to Primrose Hill (where I sat for Guy Fawkes Day). But that was the extent of our adventures until, one night while Skyping his parents, Cyrus' mom finally talked some sense into him and convinced him to go out and see things. The only problem was that the next day was his last full day in London. So we decided to make it a good one.

We woke up early and Cyrus went to his last day of Crossfit (gotta have our priorities here) before going out for lunch. We went to my favorite little cafe/bakery that I posted about several months ago- WAG Free Bakery in Brixton Village Market. Now, they have converted it into a full on restaurant, but still in that same claustrophobic space under the covered market. It was delicious as always and even Cyrus was impressed with how good the food was. After that we took the tube to Green Park, exactly as I had all of those months ago, and walked up to Buckingham. It was a beautiful day for sight-seeing, which was fortunate, because we had a lot to see ahead of us. From Buckingham we walked through the most beautiful park in the center of London (I don't remember the name, but it's the big one by the palace) and up to Westminster, the Houses of Parliament, and Big Ben. From there we proceeded to get lost down along the Thames, walking in the opposite direction than we were intending. It was very nice though, as we came upon another nice green area and walked all the way down to the Tate Modern and Vauxhall (where Crossfit had been) before asking directions at a gorgeous church-turned-flower museum. 

Once we were righted, we walked back up the Thames, stopping across from the Houses of Parliament to sit and enjoy the sunny day (a rarity anymore) and watch the life around the water. After too long we were back walking along South Bank where the Christmas Market was a few weeks earlier. We walked under the eye and were entertained by the moving statues and very talented street performers that rent out areas of the pavement. After being a bit disillusioned by the doggy eccentricities of Camden, I was glad I was able to show Cyrus the “true” London with it's beauty, culture, and diversity. We continued to walk along the Thames for at least an hour or more passing (not in order) the Globe Theatre where Shakespeare performed, the old Tate Museum, the Shard, the famous Millenium Bridge, and MANY more sights and stores and candied nut vendors on the way. Finally, we reached the London Bridge, the last bridge in London. We were headed there to see the Tower of London (home of the Crown Jewels) and chose to walk instead of take the underground so we could see everything. Unfortunately, this took longer than was expected, and we arrived too late to take the tour. However, we were very fortunate in that right before the London Bridge was docked the BMS Bellfast (one of the most famous British war ships- now museum) with a new Royal Navy ship anchored right next to it! We couldn't resist and bought tickets onto the ship. We got to see the new ship set off (with all of their departing rituals) and explored the vast crawl spaces and boiler rooms and sleeping chambers complete with the occasional wax figure of the grand Bellfast. It was truly a magnificent (and exhausting!) day. A week's worth of tourism within a span of 5 ½ hours (of mostly walking). We then went home and had a homemade yogurt cake with cocoa powder icing. Worth it.

The next day I took Cyrus to Heathrow and reluctantly put him on a plane for St. Petersburg before headed back into London for classes. It was quite a whirl-wind week (one that I'm still recovering from), but I signed up for a gym membership (and all of their challenging, fitness-busting classes) and have been kept busy by classes, making the gap between now and end of term seem smaller. I can't wait till my next great adventure- Russia! Until then, it's the same old boring school work and smelly Camden. Only 5 weeks left now! I think I can... I think I can... I think I can... :)

Amsterdam!!!

Hello all. I apologize for going off the grid recently. The minute we got back from Amsterdam I had to get ready for classes as uni started back up that Monday. I also had four scholarships to apply for, at the same time, and a bunch of other not fun things going on that made it so I was either too busy or too tired to write. Now I am back and very behind on posting, so I thought I would update you from where we left off leaving Munich. This may get lengthy (as you know I do), but I will do my best to convey my thoughts as succinctly as possible. I don't know why I even warn you anymore. We all know I'm just going to write to my little heart's content. Guess I'm just trying to be polite. :D

That night on the train from Munich to Amsterdam was better than our last train ride. We were in the exact same style of compartment, but this time we had the bottom bunks. This gave us a whopping 5cm more space! I'm just kidding, I have no idea what the difference is between the bottom and upper two bunk sizes, but there is a difference. This allowed Cyrus to sleep better, since the last bed was too short for him and he couldn't get a proper sleep. They also came by and served us coffee in the morning, so I was happy. Finally, we were at my last destination. Cyrus still had London to look forward to. The minute we stepped out of the station, and after I got over the fact that the people around us were no longer speaking ANY language we recognized, I was suddenly hit with a potent first impression. (And the next two... the city isn't that big, you kinda see it all at once).

First several impressions of Amsterdam: The unmistakable smell of weed EVERYWHERE. I don't know what I was expecting. After all this was Amsterdam. I guess my imagination never incorporated smells into my expectations. It didn't help that, as I would later find, the station was directly next to the Red Light District (RLD). The soft breeze from the coast was just enough to surround us in the lingering smog of last night's festivities, but not enough to blow it away yet.

The very next thing I noticed was how undeniably beautiful Amsterdam was. Coming in by train we also got to see a lot of the country side. Stereotypical Dutch houses spotted the green fields, only changing in proximity to one another as we got closer to the city. By the time we were at the heart they were so smooshed up to each other that I was sure a conversation could be heard between the walls of each separate house. That is not to say, however, that there was no green space.

My last first impression was of how “green” the city was (literally and figuratively... and ironically...). There were massive parks and plots of land devoted to grass. The one closest to our hostel even slopped upwards to make the roof of the entrance to one of the supermarkets (which was underground to conserve the green area). It was almost as if each back yard had been redistributed into several huge ones scattered throughout the city. Now, on a more literal sense of “green”, hardly anyone drove cars. There were cars, but most of the people relied on bicycles or trams or just plain walking (once again, not a big city). By far and large, bikes dominated this area, and you better not get in their way. They had their own (large) bike lanes with the traffic that almost melded into the side walk, and God help you if you happen to cross the solid white line dividing the two. As for the ironic sense of “green”... well, I'll get to the more deviant side of this cultural mecca later. (Fun fact: Weed is not actually legal in Amsterdam... it's just extremely tolerated- so much so that cops look the other way).

 Needless to say, Cyrus and I were quite out of our elements. Germany had been, mostly, the same wherever we went. Once we figured out one area and how to get around, we did pretty well with the others. It helped that, at least to some degree, we knew important phrases to translate signs and could speak enough to fill language gaps. Now, in the heart of Holland, we weren't as prepared. While some things were in English and everyone (supposedly) spoke it, interacting and figuring out the ropes was still challenging. Just getting to the hostel was an adventure as we knew which tram to take, but had no idea how tickets worked. We ended up jumping on the next tram headed in the right direction with no ticket hoping that the transport police were as terrible at their jobs here as they were in Germany. Soon, we learned where most things were and decided that walking everywhere was the best option (as soon as we got rid of our bags of course). Our hostel was pretty nice too. It was smaller than the previous ones which I think makes the world of a difference. The manager man was also very welcoming and on top of his job making sure the kitchen was clean and the people were being respectful. Here is where we also learned a very unexpected fact about Amsterdam...

Next impression of Amsterdam: The stairs are VERY steep. It's almost like climbing a ladder. Every house or shop we went into where we had to climb up stairs had the same narrow staircase and virtually cliff-like incline. The hostel was no different. It was almost as though the founders of Amsterdam realized they didn't have much space, so they stacked everything on top of each other in as tight an area they could manage- hence climbing Everest to get to the bathroom. 

 

Anyways, Cyrus and I, after a long train ride filled with gummy bears, were feeling the need for a run again. We settled into our bunks and turned around and went out for a morning run through a park close to the hostel. It was very beautiful and we were both impressed with how genuinely happy everyone seemed. There were plenty of runners and parents with children or people with dogs frolicking about this expansive park. We received smiles and nods as we passed, a gesture unknown to the rest of Europe. We ran for almost an hour before going back and resting. The rest of the first day was full of figuring out the local grocery store and where things were. The next day was also not extremely eventful as Cyrus and I were really feeling the draining power of traveling so much at this point. However, I was determined to see things and make the most of our time here. So, we went to the Van Gogh Museum (conveniently located a block away from the hostel). I have always appreciated Van Gogh and have recently become more interested in his work. Therefore, I loved the museum and seeing works of beautiful color that I had never seen before by the genius painter. Cyrus, while appreciating the culture of the outing, was not impressed by the painter, but it's ok... we can't all be right. ;D 

 

Later that night we decided to go out into Amsterdam and walk along the canals where a Festival of Lights was going on. Basically, every hundred meters or so along a few of the canals there was a sculpture by some obscure artist lit up with dramatic colors against the night's background. The two or so that we saw were beautiful... However, we got a bit distracted. As I said, this hub of culture and history becomes more eccentric after dark. Furthermore, it doesn't help that the RLD is actually the majority of the city center, lit with bright red Christmas lights strung across the streets. We checked out some less-than-reputable looking alley ways and a few atypical stores as we further explored the city. Not to say that it was all R rated (or XXX), we also found the most glorious ice cream shop in the world... nestled between a condom shop and dispensary (definitely a different set of social norms rulled here). But the ice cream was amazing! And they sold gluten free cake! We went back a few nights later. :D As we were making our way around we also stumbled upon a Christmas market that was still (surprisingly) up and running. Cyrus tried some Belgian waffles while I had some glühwein. However, to further illustrate the sharp disparity between “normal” and “Amsterdam” I will tell you that along the same strip we also found a sex museum... and curiosity got the better of us. It was fascinating to say the least! (Sorry for your heart-attack grandma, but when in Amsterdam... :D). That night we realized just how complex this place was and all there was to see and do. However, we were tired from a long day (and slightly buzzed from all the second-hand) and decided that we would have come back to the RLD another night in order to see it all.

Our third day in and we only had one other day-time thing we really wanted to do and that was see the Anne Frank house. On top of that, we were both signed up to do Crossfit that evening, leaving plenty of the day to try out a (REALLY good) gluten free bagel place and explore all of the little shops the city had to offer. One of our favorite stores was called something like “Old Man Amsterdam” full of outdoor-type gear, hunting knives and (of course) a wall of drug paraphernalia. There was even a vending machine stocked with a variety of cannabis treats. We were quite entertained by all of this.

 

On a different note, the Anne Frank house was a really cool experience for me. Growing up I read Anne Frank's diary at least twice and the straight play in class. Not to mention the bagillion other WWII and Holocaust-based books I seemed to never run out of (I was really into WWII history). I had always wondered what the annex actually looked like and what it would be like to live there. I never thought I'd actually get to go inside that very house. Being able to see the place where she lived for that time, the moving book shelf, the tiny rooms, posters Anne herself had glued to the walls of her room, the attic she was in love with, was all so surreal. There were quotes from the book painted on some of the walls in the part of the house that had been converted into a museum and excerpts from her diary hung up on some of the walls in the upstairs annex. I remembered those words as I walked through the haunting rooms and the connection was almost enough to make me cry. What strong people. 

That night we went to Crossfit Amsterdam. It was the best one of our trip, even counting London, but (I'm told) no where near the intensity of St. Petersburg. We also went the next night and bought shirts. I didn't buy many souvenirs from our adventures, but I feel like this Crossfit shirt is my favorite item! The next day, our last day, was uneventful as we got lost in the city again (for such a small city, it's VERY easy to get inexorably lost) before going back to the ice cream shop from day two and then Crossfit. That night, however, we had decided we would give RDL one more visit, particularly to see “the girls.” 

 

For those of you who don't know, prostitution is not only legal in Amsterdam, but flaunted. Besides all of the sex shops and Moulin Rouge dance shows, there is a large part of the RLD where the girls are literally on display, behind glass doors to their rooms, bathed in red light. Dressed in the least amount of fabric manageable, they stand there, swaying, tapping on the glass, trying to get guys and girls alike to come in and hire them. It is a fantastical sight. Walking down these alleys and canals surrounded by life-sized barbie dolls of all shapes, sizes, races, ages on display whispering a promise of pleasure. I didn't know what to think. Part of me found the whole demonstration entirely fascinating (yup, the nerd at heart), while another part of me was disgusted, and yet another part curious. I hated how dehumanized the girls seemed, especially by how some of the guys were treating them, laughing or rating them on some arbitrary scale, only looking at them as glorified sex toys- but, I mean, isn't that what they signed up for? The whole thing was overwhelming, but too captivating to ignore. An experience I'm not soon to forget. 

 

The next morning, we checked out of our hostel and prepared for our first day-time train ride on the Eurostar “chunnel” to London. That is all of Amsterdam for you though. I will leave the very last ten days of our time together in London for yet another blog (as it has taken me three days between work to write this one). Only one more installment of the winter adventure before you are all caught up (nothing too exciting has happened since Cyrus left and classes started back). Hope my people in Iowa aren't freezing too badly under the winter apocalypse as I enjoy a comfortable 45ish degrees F here. Not to rub it in or anything... :D Till next time!