The Black Lung

For the last two weeks I’ve been counting the number of days I’ve managed to exercise, as opposed to the number that I haven’t. While I do sometimes feel stressed because I haven’t got my fix, I’m starting to think that it’s a good thing I’ve taken the first two weeks pretty easy. On Wednesday I’ll get my gym membership and I can kick off again, with two weeks of rest at my back.

That all said, I did go running on Friday. We were warned early on that Russians will stare if you go running in the city. They think you’re weird. But I guess running is pretty weird when you think about it. You expend all that effort to end up exactly where you started. Russians will play football and some will go to the gym, but no one just runs. I guess in two months I won’t need to think this over any more. It gets too cold to move that fast. Anyway, I managed to get running through the busy streets, dodging old ladies and those people who are too shocked to make room for you on the sidewalk. It only took ten minutes before I started regretting my week of laziness. Then after twenty minutes I realised that the air I was breathing was 40 degrees colder than a week before and composed mostly of car exhaust. After about thirty I found myself thinking referencing that Zoolander scene with the Black Lung (Note to elderly readers: Pop culture reference). The run was an experience, and one that I hope I will have to repeat only once more. I know my gym has filtered water, maybe they’ll filter the air too?

So that was Friday in the afternoon. What did I get up to this weekend? On Saturday we visited that Soviet market as planned. On arrival it was as immense and awesome as planned. There are a series of layers to the market, through which a newcomer must venture before he can reach the center. The center is where all the Russians are. Once you’ve braved the touristy boutiques, you cross some train tracks and walk through an alley. Then you pass a series of permanent shops. Then the shops based out of shacks, which I assume are only open in the summer. Then the stalls, then people with goods laid out on a blanket, then people who just have a pile of stuff that sits in the mud. I’ve described it in three lines, but understand that this market went on for miles. One person in our group bought a guitar, another a leather jacket, and one a rouble note from 1901. A friend of mine had an antique given to them for free. I spent the first two hours just wandering, soaking in atmosphere and marveling at the sheer amount of stuff. I say stuff because there’s really no other way to describe it. There was food, there were clothes, there was a guy selling rusty old tools. I saw DVDs on sale for 7 cents. I saw a guy buying a samurai sword and an uncomfortable group of people huddled around a table of pornography. Even my want to see Red Army weapons was satisfied. There, in front of me, was a man chipping rust off a mortar from the Second World War. Take a moment to imagine literally anything in the world that you want. This market had it. That said, I was so overwhelmed that I didn’t end up buying anything and I will need to go back for those Russian shirts… Saturday was quite an experience.

Sunday was another great day – Now that I think about it the whole weekend was pretty great. On Sunday we took a hydrofoil to Peterhoff as a group. The history of this country mansion starts and ends with Peter the Great. Peter visited Versailles and came back and built a Russian one. We spent the whole day there and saw maybe a third of the estate. I’m writing this in my room, once again without internet, but I hope to have the chance to upload some of my photos when I’m next at school. The palace is huge and deserves mention alongside the Winter Palace. There are over 200 fountains on the estate, all of which are powered by the force of gravity. No pumps involved. Almost everything is painted with gold. There are smaller mansions that surround the centre mansion, each of which is bigger than our house in Summit. One of these was built precisely so that guests would never see the palace servants (You dropped a dinner request down through the table, and your dish would pop out of the table in front of you, transported by an individual plate elevator.) Another was built to emulate another French mansion that Peter had decided he needed a copy of. It was 55 degrees and windy all day, but Peterhoff was no less than incredible. In the words of one of my new friends “In America we just don’t have anything as cool as this”. I guess we just missed that era.

I’ll really cut to the chase now. Had classes today, more essays, future promises hard work but loads of free time, excited, gym soon, signing up for classes, weather sucks, about to go for blinis and honey beer. I hope you’re all well and sorry for such a long post! Hope you made it through it all. Pictures to below...