You Can't Win Them All

So, Sunday was the day that changed the course of my summer.  It was so traumatic, it's taken me nearly a week to be able to write about it.  But here it is, at last, in all of its raw detail.  (I'm only being slightly dramatic - you'll see why...)

• In the morning, I went to church as usual.  The sermon was on the last two chapters of Revelation - next week I assume that they will begin again in Matthew, since Sundays we always study the New Testament.  The pastor is leaving for a 3-week car trip with his family, however, so for the next few Sundays one of the elders will be teaching.
• After church, I stopped by MacDonald's to grab an ice-cream cone, as the heat was still quite unbearable.  I had been invited back to Kavgalava with some of my friends, but I had also made plans with my new Russian friend, Zarina, and I figured that that should take precedence.  So I traipsed over to Nevsky Prospect, and, as she texted me that she was running a bit late, I sat down to wait on a bench outside Kazansky Cathedral.  After about fifteen minutes, a slim, dark-haired girl in a white tank top and shorts walked up to me and inquired, "Erin?"  I could tell already that I was going to enjoy her company more than that of my previous Russian friend; she had a friendly, energetic aspect to her that reminded me suspiciously of someone else I know (here's a hint: she fairly bounced and was always smiling).  As we had agreed to meet for lunch, she began inquiring as to where I wanted to go.  And as I had no specific preferences, we decided to opt for the quickest and most convenient option - McDonalds.  This turned out to be our fateful decision.
• At McDonalds we ran into my roommate, Latalia, and her friend Salina, they having just come from the Hermitage.  The restaurant was unbelievably crowded (think about it - it is the biggest tourist restaurant on the biggest tourist street in one of the biggest tourist cities in Russia in the summertime on a weekend.) so they offered to give us their seats, since they were about to leave.  We decided that this would be a good idea - Zarina went up to order for us and I saved the seat.  I wanted to tell her to save the receipts, so that we could be reimbursed for our purchase through the Russian Friend program, so I pulled out my dictionary (which I had fortuitously thought to bring with me) to look up the word.  Having finished that, and not wanting my bulky and somewhat grungy purse on the table or in my lap, I placed it beneath the stool on which I sat, between my feet.  Soon Zarina returned with our food and we fell to eating and conversing.  I had ordered a Ceasar roll (but, unlike in America, this was an actual meal instead of merely a snack) but no drink, since I had a water bottle in my purse.  I took a few bites of my food, then was thirsty, so I reached down for my water - and felt nothing.  Thinking that strange, I looked down - at the dirty linoleum floor.  My purse wasn't where I had left it.  I got down from the stool (which was too high for my feet to touch the floor while I sat on it) and looked around, sure that it had gotten moved or kicked by someone.  But no; the tattered black bag was nowhere to be seen.  
• Seeing my consternation, Zarina asked, "What's the matter?"  I muttered, "My purse - it was right here - I don't know where it's got to" (as usual, in much simplified Russian).  At this she looked a bit alarmed, and we both peered under the counter, hoping that we had somehow missed it, although there was no place for it to be hiding.  Then the awful realization hit me: my purse had been stolen.I was so shocked I could hardly think coherently - I kept looking around, desperately trying to find it tucked away in some corner.  We stopped a few employees, asking them if they'd seen a black purse - but they were all in a hurry, and quickly answered in the negative, and asked why I hadn't kept it on my shoulder as I should have.  When it became clear that there was nothing we could do, no one we could ask who could miraculously produce the object in question, I began the long, difficult process of resigning myself to the fact that nearly everything that I had with me had suddenly been taken away, and that I would never see it again.  I choked down the rest of my lunch - even in such a time, I couldn't bear to waste food.  Then, stunned and feeling naked without any of my belongings, we left the restaurant, me craning my neck this way and that, searching the arms of everyone we passed as well as every bit of the floor and all of the corners in the desperate hope that I might still recover something - anything!
• I didn't have pockets in my dress, so literally everything was in my purse.  In addition to the expensive things - my camera, iPod, cell phone, wallet - I also had in there my dictionary, Bible, city map, swimsuit and towel (I was planning to swim later), copies of all of my documents (passport, visa, registration), student discount card, apartment keys, Institute ID card, driver's license, health insurance card, water bottle, pens, hand lotion, sunscreen, chapstick... everything. :[
•  Shell-shocked and morose, I walked numbly down Nevsky Prospect behind Zarina.  When she suggested that we go into a museum, I agreed, but without any conviction - my mind was still several blocks away, back at the McDonalds.  The museum turned out to be Строгановский дворец or Stroganoff's palace - the home of one of the largest and richest families in St. Petersburg.  The rooms were, as usual, splendorous (my official new favorite English word :]), especially the hall where one wall consisted entirely of mirrors.  There were half-chandeliers and half-pillars attached to the mirrors, so that it appeared that they were completely round, and the effect was that although the entrance to the hall was in this wall, it appeared that you had walked into a room twice the size.  Very interesting.  The rooms were definitely the most interesting thing in this palace - the artifacts on display were mediocre at best, especially as compared to the Hermitage and the other museums I have thus far visited.  But I could not look at the splendor of the furnishings without wishing that I had my camera to take pictures, which would remind me that I had had it until a few minutes ago, which would once again set me to brooding.  I did my best to keep a cheerful countenance, however, especially as I could see that Zarina was trying extra-hard to cheer me up and I didn't wish to make a bad impression by moping the entirety of our first meeting.
• After the museum, Zarina asked whether I would like to go to a park.  My answer was the same as I gave for nearly everything that day, a slightly bitter, "Почему нет?" (Why not?)  And so we rode the metro to the south end of the city and wandered the park there for a while, sitting on the grassy bank of some pond or other and chatting in Russian.  We worked on getting acquainted, and I surprised myself at how easily I was still able to produce Russian, though my thoughts were mostly elsewhere.  We sat there for a couple of hours, and when we decided that we had baked enough in the sun, Zarina offered to take me back to her place.  It had come up in conversation that I didn't have any other sort of bag that would be appropriate for carrying my schoolbooks, which was a legitimate problem.  Zarina (bless her!) quickly piped up and explained that she had an old, extra purse that she would be more than willing to let me have.  Thus we decided to travel to her apartment so that she could give it to me and so that I could access the Internet and let the most important people know of my situation.  It turned out that she lived a good 15-minute walk past the last metro station on the blue line - which meant that she was several miles from the city center.  Her neighborhood consisted mostly of tall apartment complexes that had presumably been built since the fall of the Soviet Union, and her apartment was on the 10th floor of one of these buildings.  There we collectively consumed nearly an entire watermelon, we were both so hot and thirsty.  Then I emailed my mother and Anna B-, the program assistant, to let them know what had transpired, and particularly that my phone had been stolen, so they might save themselves the trouble of trying to call.  When I opened my email, I saw that I had a message from the OA Freshman Camping Trip coordinator, informing me that for the area in which I would be leading a trip, they needed to have my driver's license number.  I laughed aloud at the irony of this - my driver's license had been in my wallet, too.  By the time I finished, it was already nearly 7:00, and I was a good hour's travel from my apartment with no way to let anyone know where I was (who memorizes phone numbers anymore?  They had all been in my phone), so I decided that I had better head back as soon as possible.  So, with some parting words of encouragement and caution, Zarina handed me my new purse and pressed a hundred-ruble note into my hand, despite my protests.  "Anything could happen," she insisted, although I was thinking with a wry smile that if this purse was stolen, too, the 100 rubles really wouldn't help me that much.  
• And so I returned home, in much lower spirits than I had left that morning.  I first tried the McDonalds again, in a vain hope that perhaps the thief had returned the bag after removing all of the valuable items (what I would have given even to recover my dictionary, or towel, or city map at that moment - or even my pen or sunscreen!).  But it was to no avail - I stopped an employee and inquired whether anything had been found, or whether there was anyone I could ask, but she only replied that they had cameras, but they probably hadn't caught anything, and that if my passport was stolen I would need to go to the police.  Thus I walked home with heavy steps, still struggling to accept the fact which my mind had repeatedly rejected - it just couldn't be!
• Now, I've lost things before, but I can't remember the last time that something was actually stolen from me.  (Unless you count my bike during the first week of classes at Princeton - but it was found three weeks later by Public Safety, and it really isn't worth more than $30, so I guess it doesn't really count.)  Growing up in small-town Maine, it's just not something we ever worry about.  In fact, I'm notoriously lax about security - I often forget to lock my vehicle, even leaving the keys in it more often than not when I go into a store or theater.  Even after my bike was stolen last year, I rarely locked it up - usually only at night.  Whether that displays a naive trust in people or is just laziness, I'll let you decide.  I call it "calculated risk." :] So when I had to accept the fact that my purse was stolen - stolen, my entire purse - it was something that I had never had to deal with before.  Poor Zarina - I was exceptionally distracted for the rest of the afternoon, as every few minutes I would remember another thing that had been in my purse, and begin to lament my stupidity all over again.  But I really hadn't been all that stupid, and that's what bothered me most.  I hadn't left my purse in the bathroom, or walked away from it, or even left it on the next chair over, or hanging behind - it had been under my very feet!  While Zarina and I were still in the restaurant, discussing what we could do next, we witnessed a young couple sit down directly across from us and immediately place her purse and his backpack on the floor between them, before they commenced gazing star-struck into each others' eyes.  Seeing them do exactly as I had done - place their bags on the floor and not pay attention to them - was the hardest blow.  Why did I deserve to have everything stolen from me, and not them?  They were making the same mistake, and only a few minutes separated our fates - why me, and not them?  
• But, to quote the poet Lord Alfred Tennyson, "ours is not to reason why, ours is but to do and die."  I don't know why my purse was stolen that day, when God could easily have protected me from all of the fear and uncertainty and heartache and inconvenience.  I'm sure I don't even know how many times He has rescued me before from even worse things.  The only thing I can be certain of is that He has a good plan - that "all things work together for good to them that love God, to them that are the called according to His purpose" (Rom. 8:28).  There was a reason that that happened to me, and that it happened there, and then, though I can't see it, and may never be able to.  I can only look for reasons to praise Him in and through the situation, and trust that it will, in the end, work for good, as He promised. 
• And it isn't as difficult as I first thought to find the good in the situation: my passport and ATM card were not in my purse that day.  In the big picture, nothing that I lost is irreplaceable, and those two items would have given the most hassle, had I lost them.  It was a simple matter to make another copy of my passport, visa and such; and although I had had 1100 rubles in my wallet, that still only amounts to about $30.  I still have access to the rest of my money, which I would not have had, had I been forced to cancel my bank card because it had been stolen.  I didn't have a credit card, either - all that the thief got is the collective value of the items in my purse, nothing more.  My iPod? - not something I absolutely need, and it was already 2 years old and beginning to lose its battery capacity, anyway.  At least now I can't procrastinate from my homework by playing Solitaire on it (although if I get really desperate, I have a pack of cards in my desk... ;])  My camera? - a much dearer loss, but it had been just that morning that I had changed the SD card because the first was full, so I still have nearly 600 pictures from the trip thus far, 600 irreplaceable memories of friends made and adventures had.  And all in all, it had been a $100 camera that was already a year old, together with a 3-year-old $20 SD card and a $5 pair of rechargeable batteries.  Nothing I can't work for a week or two and replace.  All of the other items were mere trifles - my ugly 2-piece swimsuit, my well-worn city map, a $20 cell phone, $15 dictionary (there's also another English-Russian dictionary in my room, courtesy of a previous student), $6 Russian Bible - who knows, maybe he'll read it?  That would make the entire escapade worth it, in the long run.  There were a few things I would miss - the loss of my apartment keys, although there was nothing in my purse that would expressly link me with my St. Petersburg address, necessitated a changing of the locks that I would have to pay for :P.  I would need a new Nevsky ID card in order to gain access to the building, a new Student Discount card in order to get into the museums for a cheaper price, etc.  But all told, as Anna B- remarked to me later, "This really went as well as it could have, all things considered."  And now, I have a new purse, courtesy of my wonderful Russian friend Zarina, one which isn't likely to give out before the end of the program, and which has leather handles that won't blacken every article of clothing I own, as my other did, to my constant irritation.

Now, you must understand that such a positive outlook on the situation is only the result of a long, hard week of thinking and crying and struggling to understand, why such an awful thing would happen when I was finally beginning to enjoy myself here.   I'm not super-human; just a naive and sensitive little country-girl who is justifiably proud of herself when she manages to take the right bus all on her own.  What's made this experience especially difficult is that it happened in a foreign country - in America all of these things would be simple to replace, but over here the prospect of trying to buy a new camera or phone is positively daunting.  There's a silver lining, even in that, however - the thief has a great deal of my personal information (whatever he could glean from a copy of my passport, visa, registration, and driver's license) and, in the States, there would be a legitimate concern about identity theft.  However, my American permanent address and driver's license number aren't likely to help him much over here, and there is probably little that he can realistically do with a photocopy of a 19-year-old woman's American passport.  Still, it was a frightening experience, all told, and my view of humanity is a bit more jaded now.  But I've learned my lesson, and I'm determined not to let it ruin my summer!  So there!

*In case you think I'm being stereotypical by referring to the thief always as "he", let me just explain that when I sat down at the stool, there was a youngish man sitting beside me - I didn't pay much attention to him, because I had no reason to.  But he was the only one close enough to me to have taken my purse without my noticing - the back of the stool was a few feet from a wall and the kitchen door, and I would have seen someone passing by who bent down to grab it.  Thus, I'm not being sexist by assuming that it was a man - just realistic, unfortunately.  :P

The Fatalist

If you want an apt, albeit exaggerated and symbolic, description of my weekend, you can go read this short story by M. Lermontov: The Fatalist.  I'll tell you why it's so appropriate.

• On Friday I was still feeling a bit down, but when some of the girls in my group announced that they were going to a movie after school and anyone who wanted to come was welcome, I jumped at the chance to hang out with my friends.  And so we went and saw Twilight: Eclipse.  I don't think I've ever seen a more pointless movie, in any language.  I am very sorry for those of you who love Twilight: I just don't think that it was a good movie.  The upside is that it was a good movie to watch in Russian, because the plot line wasn't complicated at all and I was able to understand almost all of what was going on.  I do intend to watch all three of the movies, eventually, when I get back to the States: however, I don't hold out much hope that they will be much better in English than in Russian.
• After the movie, I hurried back home to wolf down some supper before heading out again, this time to meet some other members of the group for a concert.  This was a performance of the Men's Choir of St. Petersburg in the Peter and Paul's fortress.  Anna B- had thought that the performance was in the actual cathedral, and indeed it used to be, but when we went it was in another, much less impressive building.  Nonetheless, the choir was as good as Anna promised.  Russia is famous for its exceptionally low bass singers, and they were out in all of their glory at the concert.  Some of the notes they sang were so low that they literally shook the walls of the room wherein we sat!!  I thought of my friend from Princeton, Griffin Telljohann - he's a bass too, though slightly less impressive in his range (but only slightly ^.^)  The performance strongly reminded me of Princeton A Capella; all we needed was a stone arch (and those weren't in short supply in the fortress ;]).  It also made me think of the hours of choir practice I sat through in Belgrade (and those memories aren't quite as pleasant as the former :P)  The first half of the concert consisted of traditional religious songs, and the second was all folk music.  The religious music was all very somber and slow, but the folk songs were lively and made me want to get up and dance - I could just imagine such a group dressed in furs, sitting around a fire and singing these songs on a cold winter's evening, many centuries ago.  
• On Saturday, we went to Pushkin, a suburb of St. Petersburg, to tour Catherine's Palace at Czarskoe Selo.  It was absolutely gorgeous, as have been all of the palaces we have visited.  Fortunately, we didn't have to meet quite as early as we had for our trip to Novgorod: our rendezvous was at 10:20 at one of the most southernly metro stations.  From there we took a marshrutka to Pushkin - once again, I forgot my motion-sickness candy, but I didn't end up needing it - and I even read on the way there!!  I started The Jungle by Upton Sinclair - I have never read a more depressing novel.  It's like A Series of Unfortunate Events, except not in the least amusing.  I only recommend that this book be read under duress (for example, as summer reading for an AP English course) or if one feels it necessary to be in an exceptionally dour mood for the next week.  I honestly don't know if I can finish it without falling into a serious bout of depression.  Fortunately, the marshrutka ride was only about 20 minutes long, so I was spared from too much dwelling on the misery of the human condition.  We arrived at the palace complex before 11, but it was another hour before our tour guide showed up and she had to fill out some forms before we could actually begin.  Once we finally entered the palace, those of us with larger bags (which definitely included me) were required to check them.  I considered taking my camera out, but I wouldn't have had anywhere else to put it, and I was under the impression that photography within the palace was only allowed upon purchase of a ticket, as it is in many other museums we have visited.  Unfortunately, I was wrong, so I didn't get the chance to capture any of the splendor of the interiors.  Perhaps I can convince some of the other people in my group to let me get a copy of their photos.  
• The most splendorous (wow, that's actually a word) room in the palace was undoubtedly the world-renowned Amber Room.  In this room nearly every inch of wall space is covered with a mosaic of the fossilized resin; even picture frames and bas-reliefs are made of it!  It is absolutely incredible (as well as being the one room in the palace where photographs are forbidden).  
• After our tour of the palace, we explored the park a bit and learned more than any of us ever wanted to know about its history.  Don't get me wrong, I'm very grateful to Anna's friend who took time out of her day to come lead the tour for us, but her English was slow and laborious, and by the time we reached the park it was already past 1, and we were all hot and tired and hungry.  We were more than glad when we reached the end of the park and it was finally time for lunch (by which time it was nearly 2:30, and Latalia and I had eaten breakfast at 8!!)  Lunch was a picnic, courtesy of Princeton University - ham and cheese sandwiches on various types of bread, cucumbers, and cherries.  It was one of the best picnics I have had in a long while - probably because we were so hungry by the time we began.  
• After the picnic, our excursion was officially over, so our group split and went their separate ways.  I ended up wandering with Mykola, Andrew, Hayk, Ian, and the Russian friends of Mykola and Andrew (later I realized that I was the only American girl there, but I couldn't leave the poor Russians to fend for themselves with those crazy boys!! :])  We explored the carriage trails that criss-crossed the park, wandering with no ultimate goal in mind - and very nearly got ourselves thoroughly lost.  I was very jealous of the mountain-bikers that I saw (I haven't had any exercise besides walking all summer :P).  We found some really cool old abandoned brick buildings, as well as a high stone bridge which we climbed and explored.  It was good just to hang out with some friends, and I felt that (besides the lake the week before) this was the first time I had done so since arriving.  
• Then it was back home to finish my weekend homework.  T.T. called to say that she would be back the next morning (as usual) and that we should make ourselves supper, which we did of blini.  I had heard that the girls in the group might be planning to hang out in the evening, but either the plans never materialized or no one thought to call me.  Not to be faced with another long evening of studying, however, I decided to stay up until the bridges rose (which happens between 1:30 and 2am, depending on the bridge) and take pictures of this most characteristic St. Petersburg phenomenon.  Not wanting to do homework until that time, I also decided that I would wander around my island until it was closer to the time for them to be raised.  So at about 9:30 I left my apartment and struck out northward, planning to explore the three less-inhabited northern islands for a while.  En route, I ran into Qaiocu (pronouned "Chao-Choo"- I don't know if I spelled it correctly, but it looks much cooler in Cyrillic - as do so many other things...) and she decided to accompany me for a while.  Since she lives on the more northernly part of my island, she has wandered this area quite a bit, and she could tell me what I would find there and where to go.  We wandered across the first of the northern islands, which consists of mostly well-to-do newer neighborhoods and apartment complexes, some of them gated communities, as well as St. Petersburg's amusement parks.  Then we crossed to the smallest of the three islands, Yelagin Ostrov, which consists entirely of a park (Central Park of Culture and Rest).  We stayed there for a while, exploring the wooded trails of the park, then Qaiocu set off for home - she wanted to be back by 11:30 and it was already 10:50 by this point.  I sat on a bench and read for a while, but had to leave before midnight because that's when the park gates close.  The White Nights are basically over, but it's still quite something that I can sit on a bench at 11:30 pm and have enough light to read a book!  
• So, it was after this, when I was wandering slowly across Petrogradsky Island towards the bridges which would open at 1:30, that I realized just how dangerous was the situation in which I found myself.  I was: 1) a 19-year-old 2) female 3) walking alone 4) past midnight 5) on a weekend night 6) in a large city 7) in a foreign country 8) where I didn't speak the language very well 9) in a part of town that I had never been before.  However, by the time I realized this, I was already equidistant from both my apartment and the bridges; it made just as much sense to continue as it would have to return home and wait until the bridges rose.  So I continued, stopping into a 24-hour produkti for a candy bar to bolster my energy. 
• Fortunately, the night progressed without incident, and the bridges were truly something to see - it was definitely worth it.  At least I conclusively discovered that it gets dark at night - but all of the bridges are bedecked with plenty of lights.  I got some great pictures before returning to my apartment and crawling into bed at 2:45.

And now, since I haven't even gotten to the most exciting part of my weekend and already another is upon us, I shall sign off for the present, hoping to complete my tale soon, in another post.

What's up with this Weather?

Last week was definitely a regression.  But, every cloud has a silver lining, so I can't say that it was all bad.

• The weather all week was absolutely horrendous.  I don't think there was a single day below 27 (80 degrees Farenheit) and the beginning of the week got up to 32 or 33 (low 90s).  We finally got some thunderstorms on Thursday, though not nearly as intense as two weeks ago, and they didn't cool the air as much as I might have hoped.  I cannot stand being hot - I've begun taking ice-cold showers at night just so that I can sleep.  Being used to a cool climate, I overheat much more easily than I get cold.  Not to mention, St. Petersburg isn't very clean by any standards, and after a couple of days of such heat, the city begins to fester and the stench is oppressive.  I've heard that St. Petersburg hasn't had such heat as this for more than 40 years.  Interestingly enough, we are reading Crime and Punishment in Russian now, and the book is set in the summer of 1865, which year experienced weather very similar to this now.  June was cold and rainy, but July was unbearably hot.  Fortunately, the city is in much better condition now than it was in 1865, and the neighborhood where my apartment is on the nicer side, and I'm not a dirt-poor student with crazy ideas about "extraordinary people" to whom the law doesn't apply, so I'm not likely to go out and kill an old pawn-broker to test whether some crimes are useful to humanity :]  (In case you're confused, that's the basic plot of Crime and Punishment.  If you want more: Crime and Punishment: Wikipedia)  But, at least my wardrobe is appropriate now!  I no longer have anything to complain about concerning my clothing, and our apartment (which was so uncomfortably cold during cool, rainy June) is finally just right (although it gets kind of hot and stuffy sometimes, even so).  And, all of this sun means I'm getting a killer tan!! :]
• Speaking of tans, I shouldn't have tried my luck twice in a row.  As usual, I didn't wear sunscreen when I was outside last weekend; Saturday turned out all right, but I got burned pretty badly at the lake on Sunday.  As a result, my shoulders were especially tender at the beginning of this week, which is also when we had the hottest weather, so of course I was wearing tank tops.  Thus, when the strap of my 30-pound backpack-purse rubbed against my shoulder, it irritated it something awful. :P  This made for some pretty uncomfortable walks to and from the Institute, and I was often pretty grumpy by the time I got home after walking for 20 minutes in the oppressive heat with that heavy load.
• On Monday, we (Aryeh, Emily, and I) tried to make our hostel bookings for Moscow, knowing that they were best done sooner rather than later (for a weekend in the summer in Moscow, it isn't hard to imagine that all of the best hotel and hostel rooms fill quickly).  Unfortunately, this gets slightly complicated since our party consists of two females and one male.  We eventually found a reputable hostel in a good location that wasn't too expensive and Emily and I were able to get places all right, but when Aryeh went to book for himself he discovered that there were no more beds.  Of course, I would rather cancel the reservation and swallow the cost of the deposit than have us be in separate hostels; so, that's what we did.  We tried again on Tuesday and found beds in another hostel for only $16 per person per night, and the place seemed quite reputable and safe, all things considered.  Nonetheless, it will be an adventure, but then again, isn't that what I'm here for?  And after all, the opportunity to travel to a major European city for only $215 (when I add up the cost of travel and lodging) is really something that won't happen very often in my life, so in the end it will be worth it, I believe.  :]
• On Monday we had the opportunity to tour the Alexandrinsky theater, which was the first public theater in Russia.  It was very interesting to hear the history of the theater, and see where the tsar and his family would sit to watch the performances, and the secret passage that he would use when he wanted to visit the theater surreptitiously, and the museum that contains all sorts of costumes from different performances of the 19th century.  The theater itself resembled a mini Mariinsky theater; that is, it was designed and built in the same style, although with much less grandeur.  As usual, I took lots of pictures. :]
• So, I have finally given up on my Russian friend.  Her communication has been sporadic all summer, and the only thing we have done together is the outing to Petergoff - and you can read about how well that went. :P  I messaged her with all of the things that I had discovered that I wanted to, very excited and asking which she would prefer.  Her answer was indifferent, but at least indicated what she would like to do; however, when I asked her when she would be free, she told me that she works and so she usually isn't (It's summertime.  How much can you possibly work that you aren't free at all, even in the evenings or weekends?)  After sending her two texts on Wednesday, regarding activities planned for Friday and Saturday and would she like to come? and receiving no answer, I had reached the end of my patience.  I told Anna B- of my troubles on Friday, and she talked to the woman who organizes the program, and by Friday evening I had two new Russian friends, who seemed very eager to hang out with me!!  If I had known that it was that simple, I would have asked weeks ago.  It seems that I'm not the only one who hasn't had luck with the program, though: aside from Mykola, who hangs out with his Russian friend Masha and all of her friends nearly every day, most of the Princeton kids are having a hard time arranging activities with their assigned friends.  It makes me curious as to the criteria for the Russian students, since obviously not very many of them are enthusiastic about hanging out with the Americans (even if everything is paid for...).
• All of these things - the heat, my physical discomfort, and the unfriendliness of my Russian friend - combined to bring back the sense of loneliness that I felt so strongly in my first couple of weeks here.  However, I have good friends here that won't let me wallow in self-pity for long, and Mykola (whom Latalia and I have agreed is the nicest guy in the group) has promised to invite me along when he and Masha are hanging out sometime.  I'm still studying a lot of the time, but not so much to drive me crazy anymore.  All in all, I don't think I really have any reason to complain; it must just be that I miss my friends (I'm not particularly close to any of the other Princeton students, and since I don't live in the city center, we rarely see each other outside of school). But I'm only here for another three weeks, so I should really focus on all of the opportunities I have rather than the things that I'm missing.  :] 
• The other big thing that I struggled with last week was money.  I withdrew money again on Monday - 10000 rubles this time.  I don't think I had really thought through how much money I was going to use this summer, and I certainly hadn't prepared myself to spend so much.  I worked very hard during the school year at a job that paid very well and was careful enough with my money that I didn't have many expenses, so I had built up quite a nest egg in my checking account.  Even after paying for my $1900 plane ticket (albeit $1000 of that came as a gift from my grandparents' estate) I had $1700 to my name at the beginning of the summer.  It was exciting, having a significant sum of money for the first time in my life.  But, probably because of my wonderfully frugal mother, I have a great fear of spending money.  After I made the withdrawal on Monday, it really hit me that this was my very own money that I was spending, and that I only had so much of it.  It didn't help matters that this was also the week that I received my new Financial Aid award for the next school year and saw that, since I hadn't had time to apply for any outside scholarships in the spring, I would be expected to contribute several thousand dollars more to my education than I had the previous school year.  Part of this contribution is $2500 labeled "Summer Savings" - and as I realized with a sinking heart, not only did I not begin the summer with $2500, I was only decreasing the sum available to me as the summer wore on.  This news, combined with my natural instincts, put me into a very frenzy of saving money.  I had already made several purchases that, in hindsight, seemed to me so frivolous.  For instance, the 2400 rubles I had spent on my Swan Lake ticket seemed to haunt me, and since my Russian friend has been so uncooperative, I have had to pay for all "Russian friend" outings out of my own pocket.  As a result, even the money I was spending on lunch every day seemed to grow more and more significant, and I resolved to stop buying food in the cafeteria, as I could feed myself more cheaply from the store.  Thus, I bought a half-loaf of bread and a package of cheesesticks (the individually wrapped mozzerella kind you eat for lunch in elementary school) and a bag of apples for 10 rubles each and made that my lunch every day.  Never mind that it was plain, and not very satisfying, and that by Thursday the bread had gone moldy and the apples soft - it was cheap.  
• Fortunately, I have now been able to snap myself out of this horribly destructive way of thinking, by counting my blessings instead of my expenses.  I go to a wonderful school, on a wonderful financial aid package (I even got a scholarship to pay the tuition for this program).  I had a fantastic job last year that allowed me to save up money for this summer.  I will have an even higher-paying job in the fall, and I will also be taking on a second one that has a lower pay rate but requires less attention (i.e. I can do my homework while on the job).  The very fact that I'm here in Russia is a wonderful opportunity that would have cost me much more money had I not done it through Princeton.  The experiences I am having - from seeing Swan Lake (the classic Russian ballet) in the most famous theater in the city to the life-skills I am learning by fending for myself in a foreign city - are nearly priceless.  I should be enjoying myself, not worrying about the money that I am spending to the detriment of my health, or nutrition, or enjoyment of this wonderful opportunity.  And above all, do I not serve a great God?  Does he not own "the cattle on a thousand hills"?  Has He not already provided for me "over and above anything I could ever ask or imagine"?  Can He not continue to provide for me, regardless of my expenses?  And so I refuse to worship at the altar of economy.  I refuse to squander this opportunity that I have been given because I am worrying about the price of my lunch.  I will have many years in the workforce to worry about budgets and bills and stewardship.  Now is my time to enjoy what I have been given.  And I shall.

So, for those of you who are so inclined, I would ask that you pray for my emotional health as I am here.  Pray that I will stop feeling so lonely and overwhelmed and uptight about money; that I will let these things go and trust God and take full advantage of the wonderful and unique opportunities that I have this summer.  I am making fantastic memories that are worth more than all of the money that I could be saving by staying at home for these two months.  I want to be able to keep things in perspective, and to glorify God in everything, whether it seems good or bad at the time.  And if any of you have any prayer requests, or especially any encouraging words, please send them along to me via Facebook or email.  I will take all of the encouragement that I can get, and I would love to hear anything from all of you for whom I am writing this chronicle.  Most twewthfully (thank you, David Leyva, for pointing out this pun to me), I love and miss you all.  God Bless!