Feeling Better...

but I think it has more to do with the fact the moshki (little gnat-bugs that ate me alive) have now all died.

Saturday, during the most boring excursion that I believe has ever occured in the history of the world, I decided to become a non-compliant patient. I threw my diet out the window. Eating kasha, bread, and potatoes every day all day is NOT fun. I refuse to believe I have a food allergy, and rebelled against my doctors and the program directors. I ate two ice cream cones on Saturday. They were delicious.

My actions have been supported by an improvement in my condition. I now have faith that eventually this mysterious ailment will depart, and I will once again appear my usual self, as opposed to the spotted circus freak of the preceeding weeks.

I still take all my medication: I just refuse to comply with this ridiculous diet.

But about our excursion to the FISHING MUSEUM...

As I predicted, hideously boring. The one blin' (crepe-like pancake) we were allowed was delicious. Tim almost had a panic attack when I told him I drank the honey-apple-cider mixture they gave us. (also delicious). Our lunch was provided by the museum, and was supposed to be Russian national dishes (plural). Instead we got ONE bowl of fish stew...which wasn't that great. No dessert or tea.

I can now report that I have been to the exact location of the filming of that 1905 classic film "The Fish Factory of Astrakhan.'" Suffice it to say that the location was as riveting as the film. There is a house-museum there, which was the residence of the director of the fish factory. It comprises 4 rooms, one of which is the obligatory Soviet memorial room. (In every museum in Russia there is at least one room devoted to glorifying the Soviet Union.)

As usual, we gathered at the university at 8:45 (so early!) in the morning. We didn't get on the bus until 30 minutes later because our beloved stragglers were trickling in (I guess they had a rough night). We then left for the delta (I guess that is where we went...I honestly have no clue where in the Astrakhan' oblast we were on Saturday). About 45 minutes into the ride. the bus stops on the side of the highway by a dirt road.

We are informed that we are expected to get out of the bus and walk down this road, where something interesting awaits. I am not kidding.

We pile out of the bus (none of us having been informed of a possible need for unimportant things like water, bug repellent, or sunscreen) and begin the trek. We walk down this dirt road for a while, and then are confronted by a high hill and a small dirt path STRAIGHT up the hill. We are informed that the cross at the top of the hill is our destination, and that we can either take the direct path, or walk an unknown distance up the road. The boys opt for the path, and make their way through the Russian weeds to it. Peer pressure being what it is, soon all of us followed.

The best part of the whole day was watching the Russian girls (our paparazzi) hike that path in their high heels. It was wonderful to watch.

We hike to the top of the hill and see...nothing. Only a giant Orthodox cross that was visible from the road, and a lone grave. (somehow I mistranslated what the guide said...when I got off the bus I was under the impression that there was a church down the road.)

Sara and Ross kept saying how at home they felt...apparently the Russian landscape around Astrakhan' looks (and smells) remarkably like West Texas. (a lot of cows...and cow patties to dodge while walking in the middle of nowhere.) This took over an hour.

I was heard to say, upon return to the bus, that the next time I was presented a Russian dirt road to walk down I would emphatically decline.

The second time this happened...we were promised something interesting once again. This time, though, the Americans weren't buying it. They had to repeat themselve several times (and Tim finally had to force us) before we got off the bus.

We walked to an ancient pile of trash, which is now covered by dirt and weeds, and apparently serves the ecological purpose of separating the steppe and the swamps. Archeologists are interested in excavating the area, and our guide enthusiastically pointed out to us holes in the ground. I glanced around the top of the hill, and then walked back to the bus by myself. I was not going to get sunburnt in the middled-of-nowhere Russia...on top of my mysterious skin rash. I doubt that would be fun.

We returned to school at 5 PM. Sara, Laura, David, and I went to the cafe not far from our school. I ate blinichki and plov (a baked rice, veggies, and meat dish...yummy), and was happy.

Sunday, I slept in and then did a load of laundry (this time I made sure to wash them in hot water...just in case...and iron them after they got off the line).

That afternoon we went to the movies by ourselves--Sara, Laura, and myself. It only took us 3 marshrutkas to get to the theater (we got on the right marshrutka going in the wrong direction...again), and 2 to get home. Russian movie theaters are fun. You actually have to choose your seats, and sit in the proper row and number. We ate ice cream cones during "Sex in the big city"--AKA "Sex in the City" in the US.

Sometimes when only after viewing a dubbed movie do I realize how truly American some movies (and concepts) are. "Sex in the City" is one of them. I myself am not entirely comfortable with the themes discussed in the show, and have never been a fan. I wouldn't say that I was opposed to the show, but it was on HBO, and so falls outside of the boundaries of regular TV programming. I wonder what the Russian audience was thinking. It was a little graffic for me, although I learned that "to have sex" in Russian is заниматься сексом (literally, to occupy/busy oneself with sex).

After the movie, I got home and did some homework (while being stared at by Vika, Natasha's 7-year old daughter before she was picked up by Natasha's friend who lives a floor above), before going to bed early.

Today we met with Iranian students who are here in Astrakhan' studying Russian. They seemed very nice and were interesting. It seemed like our group (3 Iranians, 5 Americans) had a really good discussion. They have invited us to join them on weekends hanging out in the center (downtown). Paymen (I think) and I agreed that Russians drink too much and it isn't very comfortable to have drunk people drinking on the streets. While I understand that, if the State Department ever finds out that we met with these Iranians, it will be much harder to get my security clearance for government work, it was a greally great opportunity to talk. Plus, Farsi looks totally cool written.

Tomorrow we have midterms. Ugh.

Love, Shelley