Bleen. It's been a very long time. Rest assured I am alive and well and doing well for myself here in the land of plenty. By the way there's a huge billboard on the river embankment here which reads (in Russian): Russia: Land of Opportunity. Catchy slogan huh?
So here's the scoop about this last winter:
First I'll start with New Years. Seems as good a place as any considering its...New Years. First lets review my two previous New Years here. 1st year: on Palace Square with a thousand drunk and merry Russians singing the national anthem while a blue-robed Grandfather Frost danced on stage with a scantily clad damsel he referred to as his "granddaughter" and Dmitri Medvedev on the jumbo screen with sweet slicked-back hair saying this would finally be the year Russia modernized its economy and stamped out corruption. 2nd year: in the girlfriends abnormally small apartment in the outskirts with her family, drinking whiskey, exchanging gifts, speaking to old ex-Soviet army guys in English as if they can understand me perfectly, and smoking unfiltered Israeli cigarettes and pretending I was thankful for doing so.
So now my third New Years here. Spent it in my apartment with my roommates Sergey and Rimma and Rimmas parents. Her parents are from Belarus which at first was slightly intimidating considering Belarus is sometimes referred to as "Europe's last dictatorship". Basically I was expecting her father to be a mixture of Joseph Stalin, Alan Greenspan, Darth Maul, Zorro, and the bad guy from Casino Royale. And her mother in my mind was gonna be a mixture between Margaret Thatcher, Bonnie Raitt, the villain old woman from the Austin Powers movies, and Joan of Arc. But I was pleasantly surprised to find that they were indeed regular old friendly parents who wouldn't be out of place in the state of Iowa or Wyoming. As is the custom, everybody got dressed up to the tilt even though we were just staying in our flat. Yeah I wore a tie. Rimma's mother wore some full length Neil Diamond sparkly outfit. So we drank champagne, ate the traditional Olivier salad and to my hearts surprise....big giant ribs. First ribs I've had in Russia. Mean tasty. Papa Rimma will cook you up some mean ribs. By the way "papa rimma" is exactly how you say "the Pope" in Russian. That information might get you out of a jam some day. Also in case you're interested the word for "humpback" in Russian is "garboon". So now you all can say "the Pope" and "humpback" in Russian and I guarantee if you say those two words together to a Russian you will have a life-long to-the-death take-a-bullet-for-you friend. So back to New Years, we watched the presidents speech and then afterwards there's this traditional New Years program which is a surreal cartoon-like parody of world political figures acting plain goofy. Kind of like a weird Celebrity Deathmatch but instead of Brad and Angelina it was the grotesquly caricatured presidents of Georgia and Belarus. Around 4am we walked to Palace Square thinking we would meet a crowded square of merry makers but instead we found a giant trash heap with assorted drunken zombie loners wearing bunny ears. By the way, does anyone know of any tradition to wear bunny ears at New Years? Have I missed that? Cause in Russia it's huge. New Years? Get your bunny ears. Forget about the shovel or portable fan. Get your bunny ears.
Now I'll include some monologues I wrote a while back which gives an idea about the Russian winter. Here we go. Where I’m at there are occurrences of people getting killed by tsunami icicles and out of control snow plows. You turn the corner and without notice theres just a huge mammoth monster snow plow noisily plowing away without any regard for innocent bystanders. And the sidewalks are pure slippery ice. Nothing else. Just slippery ice. Unbelievably slippery. And watching the old babushkas trying to navigate them with the help of a cane never fails to bring a smile to my face. Actually I wouldn’t call it a smile. I’d call it full blown sympathy and camaraderie. We are all in this together folks. Then you gotta watch out for the guys on the roof indiscriminately breaking icicles with a hammer. In Europe they usually use lasers to get rid of icicles. In Russia they usually use immigrants from Tajikistan. By the way its popular for kids to suck on icicles. Which makes sense because in Russian the word for icicle and popsicle is the same. That’s what happens when your country isn’t so materialistic. Icicles become your popsicles. I’ve never seen such icicles. Some of them gotta be 10 feet long. Death from above. Talk about being in the wrong place at the wrong time. And there’s been a bunch of wind here so some of the icicles have a very stylish curve to them. Like those Arabian swords. In Russia even the icicles have style. Put a fur coat on one of them and you’ve got the next Project Runway sensation - Arabian sword style.
Speaking of fur you should see all the fur people wear here. Full body fur outfits as far as the eye can see. I’m talking real fur baby. Like the kind that used to be on a living breathing animal with hopes and desires of its own. You should see the sparkle in a Russian woman’s eye when she talks about her fur. You can insult her house, you can insult her family, you can insult her country, but don’t you dare insult her fur. Hell hath no fury like a Russian woman whose fur has been insulted. And some of these ladies are just absolutely covered in fur from head to toe. Fur coats down to their ankles, fur gloves, fur scarves, and usually a huge fur hat. Like Abraham Lincoln’s hat, but fur. Shiny, silky, delicious-looking fur. And if I said that I wasn’t a little jealous when I see these fur-clad female warriors then I’d be lying. Fur looks so comfy and inviting. Like an old friend who is always willing to stick up for you when the elements attack. Like a warm fire in a wooden house. I want some fur. I want some fur right now. I want to live in a fur house and never have another care in the world. No matter what happens, the fur will take care of it.
I’ve been sporting a Green Bay Packers beanie recently. Just a loud yellow and green beanie in a sea of black. I had been resisting wearing a beanie for the longest time because it makes my hair look incredibly not cool but soon I just had to give in. Now my hair has a permanent Jim Carrey from Dumb and Dumber look. All I need is a hideous mullet and I’ll fit right in with many other Russian men. And with my ear muffs I basically look like a silly cartoon character compared to these stoic black clad natives. One Russian told me that wearing the green and yellow color combination was something to the effect of the worst thing that a person could possibly do. Gotta keep my melon warm though. But actually I am a little worried that the Packers might get me noticed by an inquisitive policeman who probably thinks the Packers symbol is something like Al-Qaeda. I wonder what would happen if I wore a full Packers uniform here. I wonder what would happen if I wore a full Packers uniform including pads and helmet here. At least it might protect against the icicles. And the drunk Russian beggars who are constantly singing songs outside the nearest McDonalds. Which reminds me, whenever I think the winter is getting too tough and I can’t go on, I always remember one thing….McDonalds double cheeseburgers.
Someone I barely knew asked me today if I was wearing two pants. I said of course not do I like the kind of person who would wear two pants? That just doesn’t sound comfortable at all. What if they were jeans? Can you imagine wearing two pairs of jeans? Sounds like the worst thing in the world. Anyways, when I told him that I’m indeed not wearing two pants he looked at me like I was a terrorist. After a bunch of miscommunication and trying to explain what he meant I gathered that he was referring to Long Johns. By the way listening to a Russian try to explain in detail what Long Johns are is hilarious. I asked if they were really necessary. He looked at me with all the seriousness of heaven and earth and said “your little friends will freeze.” I was waiting for the laughter to go along with it but he just stood there and stared at me with those stone cold eyes. “Your little friends will freeze.” These are the last words I hear now before I go to sleep and the first words I hear when I wake up. This guy was either an angel in disguise or a horrible devil. So be thankful for where you are right now. Drink some vodka and eat some anchovies for me. I wish I could be there with you but that would mean getting up and spending 45 minutes putting layer upon layer on and that just ain’t happenin. And by the way anchovies are an excellent vodka snack.
Alright that's enough for now. The spring/summer version will be next. I'll just say right now that it's HOT outside and portable fans have replaced the ruble as the chosen currency for any transaction. Ok bye.
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