Welcome to the Jungle

My last weekend in St. Petersburg.  It seems strange that now we are coming up to all of the "last"s: last weekend, last Monday, last quizzes... but it's good.  I'm ready to come home now.

• I was planning to do all of my souvenir shopping in one fell swoop on Saturday: just set aside the day and wander from souvenir stand to souvenir stand, searching for the best deals.  I should have known that things never work out the way you want them to :P  For starters, a terrific thunderstorm started up just as I was planning to head out.  It was no use searching for souvenirs in the rain, so I was forced to stay in and study all morning - and am I ever tired of studying.  Finally, around noontime, I headed out in search of some lunch (the rain had stopped by this time, but it was still cloudy and threatening).  I here ran into some luck; stopping by Петёрочка, I found microwaveable popcorn, and then! a rack of DVDs, $3.99 each.  Browsing through these, one in particular caught my eye: Хроникли Нарнии: Принс Каспиан.  I quickly checked the back of the case: indeed, it was in Russian, English, and Ukranian.  My decision was made: armed with the popcorn, the movie, and a chocolate bar for good measure, I happily traipsed back to the apartment, stopping by Teremok on the way to pick up a ham-and-cheese blin for lunch.  The movie was thoroughly enjoyable (in English, of course - I hadn't yet had the pleasure of watching the second Narnia movie, and my Russian is certainly not at the level to understand an entire movie...) and the popcorn was delicious, albeit a bit on the stale side.  The chocolate made up for that, however... I'm trying to find the best European chocolate over here that isn't too expensive, so that I can bring some back for you guys :]
• Finally, by the time I had finished the movie, the weather had cleared up and the sun was doing its best to make up for the morning's rain by shining twice as strongly.  Seeing as it was only 2:30, I decided that there was no time like the present to set out, and perhaps it wouldn't be a bad idea to only shop for an afternoon rather than an entire day.  With this in mind, my hopes high, and my wallet fat, I set out on my adventure.  
• As you can imagine, I systematically searched all of the souvenir kiosks between me and the center of the city, looking for the perfect gifts for my friends and family (and more importantly, at the perfect prices).  Although this may surprise you, I can get quite nervous when it comes to bartering, but the fact that I had a limited amount of money to spend and a certain amount of souvenirs to buy helped to bolster my courage.  I quickly learned that some salespeople are much quicker to bargain than others, and some will barely engage you (the more engaging ones are harder to get away from, I find).  I also found out that the more expensive the souvenir is, the more of a discount you can get for it.  Finally, I learned that the souvenir stores are not always more expensive than the kiosks... and that, though матрошки did not originate in Russia, contrary to popular opinion (they actually come from Japan), they are now the classic Russian souvenir - and they are everywhere.  It is rare to find a kiosk that doesn't have a few of the portly stacking dolls lined up on a shelf, or on display.  And you can find матрошки with pictures of anything - from the traditional Russian babushkas to fairy tales (I was particularly interested in these for my cousin Grace, but they were all very expensive) to sports teams to the Beatles to Russian political leaders to Barack Obama and family to popular movies and TV shows (I even found a LOTR матрошкa, but the quality wasn't very high, so I passed on that one).  Not to bore you with all of the details or a description of all of the souvenirs that I purchased (you can see them when I return, and if you're lucky, you'll even get one :]), I'll just say that after $100 I had found most of the souvenirs that I was looking for, and then some.
• By this time it was already 8:00, and the kiosks were beginning to close shop for the day, so I headed home to a supper of cold vegetables.  It sounds gross (and probably was) but after walking around for 6 hours in the scorching heat (the sun quickly warmed things up even after the morning's thunderstorm) they tasted like a gourmet meal.  Still in a somewhat lazy mood, it struck my fancy to watch a movie in Russian before I went to bed.  Tatyana has a smallish collection of DVDs and videos, including several multi-movie DVDs the likes of which I have never seen in the States.  From one of these I finally selected King Kong as my film of choice, mostly because I figured the dialogue would not be crucial to the plot (at this point in my Russian, I still only understand about half of what is said at normal speed).  However, this turned out not to be such a great decision: I didn't realize that the movie was 3 hours long, so it was past midnight when I finally got to bed.  Normally, this would not have been a problem, particularly on a Saturday night, except for the fact that I had requested to accompany Tatyana to the 7:00 Orthodox service the next morning.  Well, we all make mistakes...
• Regardless of my insufficient night's sleep, I arose at 6:30 in order to prepare to attend the service with Tatyana.  We walked over to the cathedral, which is very close to our apartment.  The service lasted about 90 minutes, and I will do my best to describe my impressions here.  The thing that struck me most was the ritual of it all: there was a set order in which things were done, and I imagine that many of the same things are said every week.  But there was more than enough happening during the service to keep my attention: the (non-professional) choir sang slow, solemn hymns in Old Church Slavonic (T.T. informed me that her husband Vacilly also sings in that choir); the priests in their long, ornate golden robes walked around the altar, came out in front of the congregation and declared things, then walked back behind the iconostasis; one of the priests produced an incense burner and proceeded around the altar and back and forth in front of the worshipers, swinging it in a rhythm; members of the congregation bought and lighted candles in front of the various icons hanging on the walls and the columns, recited prayers before them and kissed the glass frames protecting them; an offering was taken by three humble-looking ladies who passed around the cathedral holding offering-plates; a golden chalice was produced with much ceremony and the members of the congregation were each fed a spoonful of its contents before they filed over (with crossed arms) to the table where communion was being served; one of the priests mounted a raised platform and spoke for a few minutes, apparently reading a prayer or passage of scripture from a large tome; a gilded book was brought out, opened, read from, then replaced somewhere behind the altar (I'm assuming it was a Bible); and at the end, the oldest priest took a golden crucifix and allowed each of the worshipers to kiss it, in turn, before they filed out of the cathedral.  I was exceedingly impressed by the acoustics of the cathedral, until I realized that there were strategically placed microphones near where the priests stood to talk (but I'm still sure that the building was designed so that sound from that specific place would resonate the most).  It was also interesting to see the dress of the people who attended the service: all of the women were in skirts that came at least to their knees, and they all wore head-scarves (I did too; no woman is allowed to enter a working cathedral with her head uncovered), and none of the men wore shorts or hats; but that is where the uniformity ended.  The people were dressed in all different stages of formality: some men wore khakis and dress shirts, but some were in jeans and T-shirts.  The priests also surprised me with their lack of uniformity: they all wore similar robes, of course, but were all of different aged and had all different styles of facial hair (I guess I had assumed that there would be some sort of strictures for how the priests should be bearded).  At many points during the service, the people crossed themselves, and sometimes bowed all the way to the floor, but I couldn't exactly find a rhyme or reason to it.  There was also a bit of call-and-response on the part of the choir: the priest would read part of a prayer and the singers would respond Господи помоги, Господи помоги, Господи помоги нам, which, being translated, is "Lord help, Lord help, Lord help us."  Once, the priests recited something and most of the members of the congregation joined in; there must be some prayers that everyone is supposed to learn by heart.  Overall, it was different in action from a service at Calvary Chapel, but perhaps not so far off in spirit; I could still feel the presence of the Lord in that place and I am sure that there are many people who worship from the bottom of their hearts in the only way they know how through this church.  But I am glad that I nearly always understand what my pastor is saying (I am fairly sure that the majority of the service was conducted in Old Church Slavonic, which is no longer used or even understood by most Russians).
• Tatyana repeated many times over both before and during the service that I could leave when I got tired or bored, or at least sit down on the benches that are on the side for the elderly members of the congregation who physically cannot stand on their feet for the entire 90 minutes, as is required since there are no other seats in the cathedral.  But I chose to stand the entire time, wishing to have the full experience of a Russian Orthodox service.  For that Tatyana was very proud of me afterwards, and kept telling me how wonderful it was that I stayed for the entire time.  I feel like I have a new grandmother now - T.T. seems to be proud of me for almost everything, from my progress in Russian (we can actually hold decent and lengthy conversations on a select few subjects) to my mediocre cooking skills to things like this.  I will, indeed, miss her when I return to America, and may even endeavor to write her a letter every now and again (international calling is nearly out of the question because of the cost and time difference, and she doesn't use a computer).  Anyway, on our way out of the cathedral we saw an ambulance parked outside; apparently one of the older churchgoers had fallen and hurt herself pretty severely on her way out.  Incidentally, I only saw older women at the service; the oldest man there was probably the priest, and the oldest male worshiper couldn't have been over 50.  I wonder why that is - I'm sure past a certain age you would still find the effects of WWII and the Siege of Leningrad, when more than 1.5 million citizens of the city died, and the men of that generation became very scarce.  Or perhaps it is that men who grew up in the Soviet era tend to be less religious than the women, or perhaps the women live longer for any of several reasons.  But it was a striking fact.
• After church, we went to the local grocery store for bread and milk, then returned to the apartment for breakfast.  It being my last weekend in St. Petersburg, I decided to visit the Hermitage with Latalia again (which, unfortunately, I had only visited once before during my time here, which is not nearly enough time to appreciate the vast collection of art in this extravagant 5-building complex).  This time I brought my borrowed camera and took pictures of some of the interiors and works, so that I can show you all a little of the splendor of Russia.  Of course, it won't do it justice, but I can at least try :].  After that, I found a couple more of the souvenirs I hadn't managed to find the day before (namely a painting for my Aunt Shirley and a gift for my cousin Ben), then took a circuitous route back to the apartment in order to photograph the Bronze Horseman monument and the large ships that lay moored in the river: apparently Sunday commemorated the 310th anniversary of the founding of the Russian Navy, and the sailors were out en force.  I think my dad at least will appreciate the pictures of the big war ships - he will be able to tell me all about what they are for. :]  But the real reason for my roundabout way home was so that I could take a ride on the tram, which I had been wanting to do for a while.  I have now officially used every possible form of transportation here in St. Petersburg (a fact of which I am very proud) although I still prefer to walk, when it is possible.  
• Home again, I cooked supper, as I have been doing more and more often lately - cutlets, rice and vegetables.  While the food here is good, and filling, and hearty, I really miss American food... a good peanut butter and jelly sandwich, or a piece of bacon pizza... but now I'm drooling XD

And so passed my last weekend in St. Petersburg.  It's hard to imagine that I'm so close to the end... I've already been here for 7 weeks... I'm ready to come home.