September 6, 1996 Well, I woke up at about 8:30 and didn't want to deal with the shower (scald...freeze...scald...freeze) Nobody was up yet...Nothing had changed by the time I left the house at 9. Classes were uneventful. On fridays, I only have 2 classes, so I was able to escape at about 1. I hopped on the metro and headed over to the school I studied at 2 years ago in search of my old teacher, olga alexandrovna. I was lucky to find her. It seems she's going to be starting work at some other school in about a week. After a short conversation, it was back on the metro to the dorm. Katya and I decided to head out to a bookshop we'd heard about that actually let you browse through all the books. (Traditional russian shops keep everything behind the counter and you have to ask to see anything you're interested in.) I found the 3 volume collection of Yuz's works for 65 TR (thousand rubles) I decided that I couldn't get a much better price than this, as it was being sold on the street for about 100/110 TR. Opening my wallet, I realized I was out of rubles. "No problem" I thought...I'll just go to an exchange office and get some rubles. (In moscow, there's typically an currency exchange on every block.) Well, not on this block...or the next one. I finally found one. It was up a flight of stairs in a building that was undergoing major renovation. The 5 person line only took 15 or 20 minutes to get through. It seems that some lady in front of me had a $100 bill that the teller insisted was fake. The lady insisted that she'd gotten the bill from that very bank and they couldn't have given her fake money. She insisted that another teller look at it. After several minutes of this, I think they just gave up and let her exchange the bill to shut her up. The only problem I had was that they wanted my passport, which I don't tend to carry. My student ID wasn't good enough for them, so I ended up using my driver's license. The upshot of this was that I got my name printed on the receipt in english...which is more amusing than anything else. So, I was able to buy my books, then we headed back to the dorm. That evening, I went out with my friend emily from wes who's on the ACTR program at International. It sounds like she's having fun. First, we went to her dorm, where I learned a few things about my family from emily's group leader. It seems that the reason both male children are named Oleg is that the mother has been married several times and that she didn't want to slight the younger one by not naming him Oleg. (No, I don't think there is any cultural significance to this. I think it's just her.) Emily and I decided to check out the street scene on Arbat. Formerly, Arbat was really touristy and really expensive. Now it's just really expensive. I guess it's really similar to Newbury Street in boston, except there are a lot of street vendors selling everything from pirozhki and shwarma to matryoshki and photographs of you holding a monkey. The first thing Emily and I came across on Arbat was a gathering of "alternateens" (you know, the ones who wear nothing but black and do _anything_ to look different like all the other different people) They were hanging out, smoking, drinking beer and listening to a truely horrible rock band. We hung out for about 5 minutes before they finally started to play. "What could that kid need that recorder for?" I asked. Emily didn't know. Unfortunately, we soon found out the answer. I've heard some pretty bad highschool bands in my time, but I've _never_ heard a worse cover of Stairway to Heaven. It was all we could do to keep from cracking up. A kid was standing right in front of us with a tabby cat draped overr his shoulders. Wrapped around the cat's neck was one of those Glo-Stick[tm] necklaces. It was really kind of cool, although two really evil boys kept poking and prodding the poor cat. When we were about three blocks from the end of Arbat, I decided that I was absolutely famished. I warned emily that if we didn't find something good to eat by the end of those three blocks, she was going to have to suffer the consequences--I would actually give in and buy a Beeg Mak. She screamed. I reassured her. Luckily, we found a shwarma vendor on the street. I asked for chicken shwarma in russian. He answered "one chicken shwarma." Emily asked him (in Russian) "Does he speak Russian that badly?" The guy didn't understand her. Apparently, he doesn't speak russian. I was thirsty and they were out of coke, so I decided to see if I could cope with a beer. (For those of you who don't know, I really don't like the taste of most beers.) So, I asked her for a small beer (.3 L) and was told that they were out of small beers, so I'd have to get a large one (.5 L) Well, it quenched my thirst and I was able to swallow a few gulps more. By that time, we had reached the metro station and it was getting late. I had no idea whether they allow open containers of alcohol on the metro and decided that this was a perfect opportunity to ditch the big green bottle. From Park Kultury, I hopped on the first trolleybus that came along. As soon as I sat down, the driver bolted off the bus. "Where's he going?" I wondered. It turned out that he was just running to the first kiosk that he saw to buy a bottle of water. When I first saw him waiting in line at the kiosk, I half though he was going to buy himself a beer. Walking home, I realized that my street is really well lit and just down the street from a very flashy expensive restaurant. I don't think I have to worry about street crime on the way home....shootouts with police maybe, but not muggings or pickpockets. When I got home, I curled up and fell asleep within 15 minutes. Things that didn't happen: My family didn't give me a key. I got a key the first time I got home, but it didn't work. Even though I ask every day, they have yet to make me a new one. I keep being worried that I'll get home some time and there'll be nobody home to let me in. I think the reason they ignore me so much of the time is that they've had students living with them every semester for about the last 6-7 years. And they smoke--at home. I've decided to give the situation until wednesday. If it gets _a lot_ better, then I may consent to stay, but as it stands, I think I might move out. There's no real advantage to living here over living in the dorm. The food's not even better. (Don't get me wrong: I'm not unhappy here in moscow...It's just that I got a bit of a bummer of a family.)