In exactly 6 weeks, I will be on a plane to St. Petersburg to study Russian language, culture and politics for the fall semester of my Junior year. As requested, I will blog about my adventures in the motherland and post pictures for you all to see. Knowing the weird jumble of occurrences that constitutes my life, I can assure you that it'll be interesting.
Right now, I'm making some final preparations for my trip - securing a visa, getting financial aid squared away, and brushing up on my русский язык (Russian language, for the uninitiated). However, the most, uh, fun part of this departure process has been shopping for winter clothing. I underestimated how difficult it would be to find clothes suitable for the Russian cold, but now I see the hilarity of my once-misguided ways.
You see, it's kinda tough to find parkas and thermals when you're shopping during the peak of the Arizona summer, when it's still over 100 degrees at 10 o'clock at night. (And I thought I could walk into any Sports Authority and snag a couple clearance-sale ski jackets! The sun must be getting to me...) I actually went into a sporting store and asked if they had any cold weather gear still, and the guy looked at me in pure disbelief. Part of him must have thought I was an idiot for asking, since the A/C was on full blast in the store and there was an egg frying on the sidewalk. Another part of him was probably confused as to what "cold weather" was.
I had a similar problem in the summer before my freshman year. I wanted rain boots for the wet Nashville winter I would encounter at Vandy, but nowhere I went in the greater Phoenix area carried the darn things. "Rain boots...you mean, like, galoshes? I've heard of those things...lemme check..." Buying rain boots in the desert summer = FAIL. Buying cold climate gear in the desert summer = FAIL. Did I learn from my past experiences with summertime stocks in Arizona department stores? Nope! But I'd like to blame it on the fact that I spend 9 months out of the year in Nashville, Tennessee, where winter and fall and rain and stuff exist. I forget that Arizona is, well, Arizona.
That's all for now, folks! This is Katya, signing off.
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NOT SO FAST! Did you think you could get away without learning the Russian word for comrade?
товарищ ("tuh-var-EESH")
The word in action: Hey, товарищ, could you pass the vodka? Muchas gracias, man.
How cute! Can't wait to read more.
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