"Gm..."

Highlights of last week:

• finding out that Russians write "Gm" when they are thinking (as opposed to "Xm" which would be the closest thing the cyrillic alphabet has to an H)
• Finding hot chocolate powder (какао) at a local department store (as well as our professor, who helped us find the hot chocolate :])
• Actually carrying on a decent conversation with my host mother (Latalia and I were able to explain our rooming situation at Princeton - both of us got the short end of the stick during room draw and won't know our assigned rooms until the end of July - as well as talk about the fact that we are both on excellent scholarships, as are many students at Princeton) that didn't involve making fun of Latalia's appetite
• Discovering that the classes here are much smaller and more personal than lectures at Princeton - I feel like I'm back in one of the small AP courses I took in high school.  I'm a big fan of this.  :]
• Friday marked one week of wearing only skirts and dresses.  I even wore - get ready for this - high heels on Friday.  No joke.  And these weren't platforms, or the little 1/2-inch sandals I wore to prom.  These were legit 3-inch closed-toed monsters.  And I wore them ALL day, and even walked the mile between my apartment and school 4 times in them.  My feet are still sore. :P  (But I managed not to fall down at all, which is definitely an accomplishment for me.  If you know me, you know.)
• Getting caught up on this blog (which was then nullified by my not having access to a computer all weekend)

Other exciting (or otherwise noteworthy) things that happened:

• In our first reading class, we were given a poem that we have to memorize by this Friday's test.  It's by M.U. Lermontov and it's called "И скучно и грустно" (which roughly translates to "Bored and sad").  It's probably the most depressing poem I've ever read, and I took AP English Literature.  Think the book of Ecclesiastes, if you took out every reference to God.  Here's a pretty decent translation of it: http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/bored-and-sad/.  Only read it if you won't mind being depressed for a while.
• Also on Wednesday, we met our "Russian Friends".  Through this program, we are each paired with a young Russian around our age who is studying at the Nevsky Institute, and the idea is that we will do things together in order to get a better immersive experience.  Originally the person who had contacted me on Facebook, telling me that they were my Russian Friend, was a 23-year-old male grad student.  I'm sure he was plenty nice, but I didn't exactly look forward to the prospect of traipsing around a major city in a foreign country with some 23-year-old man whom I had just met.  I'm sure my parents wouldn't be too enthused about that either.  Fortunately (I suppose) my Russian Friend was switched (unbeknownst to me, by the way) so when we actually met our partners face-to-face, I was pleasantly surprised to have been paired with a girl closer to my age.  She is 20, in fact, and studies Central European regional studies here at the Nevsky Institute.  (I immediately wondered whether that included Serbia.  I should ask ^.^)  She started speaking to me in English and seemed surprised when I answered her in Russian (I'm not sure why she would think I wouldn't speak any of the language, after all, I am here in Russia?)  We finally agreed that I would speak to her in Russian, and she would answer me in English.  (I would rather she just spoke Russian.  I get enough English from my Princeton friends.)  We all met our Friends at once, so right across the table from me were my friend Mykola and his Friend.  I was laughing at Mykola trying to speak Russian to his Friend, and just generally being myself, when my Friend (her name is Анья) remarked, "I think you're crazy."  Grinning at her, I replied, "Well, it didn't take you long to figure that out."  (This was after we'd been talking for maybe 3 minutes.)  I didn't realize I was that obvious, but perhaps I should have guessed - Masha, Jelena, and Danilo, whom I met in Serbia, all said the same thing. :] :P  Not long after that, Anya asked me "Do you smoke?"  When I replied in the negative, she said "Too bad.  It's good."  (I very much doubt that, but I have heard that smoking is the national sport here in Russia - and I believe it.)  She then inquired, "Do you drink?"  To which I again replied that I did not.  She remarked, "Wow, you're boring."  So apparently I'm both boring and crazy, however that works out :D  It's okay - I have more fun sober than most people do drunk, and I remember it all. ;]
• On that note, we had a bus tour of the city on Friday.  I took all the stereotypical touristy pictures (just to make sure that I got them at some point, although I hope to get better ones later) and learned all sorts of random and relatively useless facts about St. Petersburg and it history.  Near the end of the tour, some of my friends were discussing where they wanted to go out that evening; whether anyone knew of any good bars in their neighborhood yet.  Being me, I said to one of them, "Just be careful tonight, ok?  Take care of yourself."  He knew what I meant - I care about my friends, and I think that alcohol in general is better avoided, and especially in excessive quantities.  One of the other members of the group, overhearing my admonition, took offense and exclaimed, "Really?  Are you serious?"  At which the friend that I had been addressing attempted to explain by saying, "She doesn't drink.  She's an evangelical."  Which erroneous sentiment I quickly clarified.  "No, I don't drink for the benefit of the people around me."  At this Phil, another member of our group, commented, "I'm pretty sure that's a good idea.  Although, you might not be any different drunk."  Thanks, Phil.  :P  Then, the rest of the group tried to figure out exactly what I would be like drunk - whether I would just get really quiet, or even more bubbly and annoying, or whether I would get snappish - personally, I don't really know, and I have no intentions of finding out, either.  
• On Thursday, we stayed especially late after school (I was blogging, Latalia was entertaining herself on the computers).  When we finally got home at 6:30, no one else was there, so we each went to our rooms to study.  T.T.'s husband, Vaseli, came home soon after us but didn't stay for very long, and when he left he locked the door behind him, presumably thinking that there was no one else in the apartment.  At least, that's what T.T. thought when she got home around 7:30.  This I only found out after getting so hungry by 8:00 that I came out of my room to ask if there would be any supper tonight (thinking that perhaps since we hadn't come home until 6:30, we had somehow missed it).  T.T., upon seeing me, exclaimed, "Emilia!  You're home?!"  Since Vaseli had locked the door behind him, and neither I nor Latalia are very loud by nature (okay, clarification, I'm not loud when I'm studying.) she had no indications that we were in the apartment, and she hadn't thought to check.  Needless to say, supper that night tasted particularly delicious.
• At the end of the bus tour on Friday (sorry for skipping around a bit, but I'm really trying to keep this short, if you believe me) Latalia went with Anna, one of the program directors, to get a Russian cell phone.  It turns out that it would be extremely expensive for anyone with a Russian cell phone to call her on her iPhone that she brought with her, as it would technically be an international call.  This was the first time that Latalia and I had been separated since arriving in St. Petersburg, and at this point Latalia still did not have a set of keys to the apartment.  However, she could get into the building and I promised to stay in the apartment to let her in when she got back.  This was at around 6:30.  By 8:30, I was getting pretty worried about her, so I texted Anna to ask if she was still with her.  She replied that she wasn't (which did nothing to allay my fears).  It had become cloudy on Friday afternoon and by 7:00 there was a full downpour outside.  Finally at 9:00 I heard the buzzer to the apartment and opened the door to find a very much soaked and bedraggled Latalia standing on the doorstep.  She had WALKED from across town IN THE RAIN WITHOUT AN UMBRELLA because she was too nervous about taking the metro, never having been outside the US or even in a big city before.  Poor child.  Sounds like something I would do.