Tuesday, June 28, 2005 5:53 pm

When I woke up, I packed up all of my things, including the sheets, which I hid in the bottom of my bag so that no one would know I was cheap enough to take home the 50-rouble sheets that everyone else was leaving there to be thrown away. However, it turns out that we did not pay for the sheets, only to have clean ones, and so now I have a set of stolen sheets.

Saturday was a long day. We went to Cafe Max, which is an internet cafe. I ate some chocolate cake and orange juice and typed up some internet stuff. I need still to write a letter to Mom for this weekend.

We walked on the fairly empty, but bright street. The world seems so fake when you haven't had enough sleep. We found the correct address for the hostel; it was in a dark, falling-apart courtyard with a puddle of urine at its entrance. Only, there were several doors and no one answered any of them. Finally, a passerby pointed us in the right direction. Inside, the hostel was extremely nice. It was like living in an IKEA. We were all relieved. Some people insisted on taking showers, so we were there for a while.

We walked to the Hermitage. It was... large. It was sickening, actually. What would posess someone to build something that large? I like big houses, but this is bigger than I could want. I'm not sure I could have imagined something like that if I hadn't seen it.

Kelly and I got lost on the second floor. I hate buildings where you have to backtrack or miss something; it's better for everything to be laid out in a line, so you can just walk through and see everything. Well, I suppose I like mysterious houses, but it's not fitting for a museum. We eventually found the way to the third floor and saw the impressionist and early 20th-century paintings. There were three whole rooms dedicated to Picasso, and two to Matisse. I bought some postcards in the museum shop. I wanted some Russian paintings, but apparently most people favor the French ones; that's what was there.

We ate lunch at Subway. I ordered too much and ended up giving half of my sandwich to Joe.

We were all exhausted and crabby, but felt that we must go on to the St. Isaac Cathedral. Two men tried to get me to buy cheap tickets for them, but Mary scared them away. It was a long climb to the top of the tower--hundreds and hundreds of stairs, I am sure. My legs ached and almost refused to work. However, the view was good--nothing in the city is so tall. From above, you can see that the roofs and walls of the entire city are crumbling; it's an old, dead city that exists by selling itself to foreigners and smells of urine. (This is probably because poor people can't pay the 10 roubles to use the toilet, which in my opinion is a gross violation of human rights. No wonder all of the water is polluted.) Sait Petersburg is a whore. It's a totally accomodating city and the babies who've been living there will porobably pass out in Moscow from fear. But maybe that's not fair; I saw the city in a hurry on no sleep.

Climbing down the tower was less painful, although the winding stairs seemed even longer. We went to the Cathedral of the Spilt Blood next. I think it's the most beautiful cathedral I've seen; I like it better than St. Basil's because the colors match. I was accosted by a gypsy who tried to steal my camera, but Abby told me later that it looked like I was taking out money to give her, so I felt bad for being angry.

No one felt up to another cathedral, so most of us returned to the hostel (the "hostile hostel", as we had earlier dubbed it) and slept. I took a shower and managed to get an hour or two of sleep. I also finished up Heinrich's poems. The later ones are actually good. It seems that in midlife, he turned to writing political satire and bemoaning his imminent death. At one point, he actually states that sometimes he thinks that the nightengale's impassioned love song might just be an empty, instinctual birdcall. I think this is a great step forward for him.

We ate supper at an underground restaurant called Propaganda, which had very cool decore. Abby stole the toothpick holder, but I didn't feel I could say anything. I bought a drink that I hated; it was called "Space Joining". The name was cool, anyway. I spent too much money and had to get the last out of my bank account.

On our way out, it was pouring. We ran, but it was pointless. Marisa, who had an umbrella, led the way through unnecessary rain. She laughed at us, which made us quite hate her. An evil man yelled at us when we huddled under his awning to wait for the traffic light. I like Russia; I hate Russians.

We met Mary, Joe, Kelly, and Sasha, who had been cheap and gone to McDonald's. They were not wet.

We met Ed, the St. Petersburg leader, at a station downtown. He was attached to a girl and was silent and serious. He walks very fast. We sat, soaked, in the lobby of a dormitory, waiting for the Petersburg kids. They live in splendor, have an easy metro, and never have to speak Russian. It's like Russia Lite.

Finally they had all assembled--we didn't really mingle, although I met Chris, who licked a box of cigareets and invited everyone to a gay bar. He advised us to visit Yusupov Palace, so I thought we ought to, if we had time. I also met Jeremy, who sat by me for a while as the rain dripped through the bus window onto his lap. He told me that he was an astrophysics major, he was so advanced in Russian as to be able to converse with his teacher, and he had never been so drunk in his life. "Juicy as a fiidle," he called it. He kept saying this over and over, and so proved uninteresting.

Indeed, most of the students were plastered. Suffice it to say that they made a bad impression on us, even on the heavy drinkers. They completely terrorized our poor tour guide; we were so embarrassed. One girl almost killed herself trying to light a cigarette in the Eternal Flame.

The rain was pouring; it was too cloudy to be a white night. Nobody really wanted to get out and take pictures, though we felt we ought to. We were wet and cold, and the bus was dirty, and we were trapped with a troupe of disgustingly, embarrasingly disrespectful drunkards. It was quite unpleasant. They were so awful! Sasha laughed and cried herself into hysterics.

The bus was supposed to take us home, but instead dumped us in the rain on the wrong side of the river. We returned to the Hostile Hostel in exceedingly foul moods.

A night of sleep was wonderful, and on Sunday, of course, it did not rain. Dasha had told us that the Hostile Hostel would provide breakfast, but it didn't (although we were allowed tea). We ate at McDonald's. Then we went to the Peter and Paul Fortress, where we saw the tombs of the tsars. It's kind of gross to imagine their corpses right there in front of you. We wandered about, trying to guess whether it would rain or not. It was very cold, and I didn't have a sweatshirt; mine was still soaking wet.

We skipped lunch and rode the boat to Peterhoff. They wouldn't sell us the cheaper 'round-trip tickets, probably because they could see we were foreigners.

Peterhoff is wonderful and stupid. It makes me want to vomit. If my emporer lived there and I was starving, I'd kill his whole family and make his house into a public museum. Well, no I wouldn't, but I might sympathize with the people who inevitably did. I tried to walk the park's periphery, but didn't have anywhere near enough time, so I still have no idea how large it is. It was so stupid. I would look at magnificent fountains and think, "More gold? Is that the best they can do?" Come on! I can't imagine feeling that way all the time. All you need is one estate, one garden, one palace, and maybe four or five outbuildings. That's all you could really enjoy or make use of! And this was not their only estate!!!

I got sick there, but not from disgust, only from pollution and typhus-infested water. I had to pay 10 roubles to use a bathroom I would ordinarily pay not to use, although it was worht 10 roubles to describe it to everyone later. You had to sit on two urine-soaked boards over a nearly-full tank that smelled revoltingly sweet.

I slept on the boatride home, but awoke still exhausted. We ate supper at Subway, where I was helped by the one nice person in Petersburg. We had to kill time before meeting Ed, so we went to McDonald's for cheap ice cream. By this time, I was having to borrow from Erin, because there is no more money in my account, and we were robbed at the boat and at Peterhoff. You had to pay like $10 to get into the park (extra for the museum!).

Later, we lingered in a Coffee House. The waitress there was really nice, too. She actually allowed me to speak Russian with her. I drank a pot of Earl Gray tea, and she didn't carge me extra for the milk. It was really calming. I don't think I've ever enjoyed tea so much.

AT last it was time to gather our things and meet Ed. He was nearly late, and too lazy to find the Hostile Hostel, so we met him on Nevsky Prospekt. He practically ran to the metro, and then scolded everyone for not keeping up. Becky was still attached to him.

It was a fine night, of course, since we were leaving.

We sat for more than two hour sin the train station, which was clean and modern even by Western standards. I read a bit of Malory, and discussed Arthur with Megan, who loves the story. Sasha read Heinrich's selected verse and giggled over it. The general agreement is that it is too awful for publication, though perhaps the genious is in the structure rather than the subject matter. But really, Heinrich, it doesn't matter how talented you are if you have nothing to write about. Remember the author in Brave New World who laughed at Shakespeare!

We boarded the train in the dark; the passengers from Helsinki were already aboard and asleep. It would have been too convenient, I suppose, to put them in a separate car or even a separate compartment. Our beds were already made, but we paid 60 roubles, and other than that, I don't see why our tickets cost so much more for "first class"--the trains were exactly the same!

Megan and I went right to sleepy, and this time I slept better, as I wasn't on the alert the whole time. I was still tired in the morning, though, and rode home on the rush-hour metro in a kind of surreal daze. I decided not to go to school, and fell asleep promptly.

I woke up at 5:00 in the evening and set about unpacking, doing a bit of homework, etc. I wrote a lot of postcards, but can't afford to sent them yet.

I called home; no one was there but Brenda. She told me that Leah's dad died on Sunday from a heart attack. How strange and surprising! I imagine life will be odd and surreal for Leah for a while. I hope I can be a good friend to her.

I called her house, but she had driven with Mom to the camp to gather her things. Apparently Mom and Dad have been really helping Leah and her mother. Karen was home when I called, so I talked to her for a few minutes, and promised to call tonight at 9:00 (noon there).

After school I waited around for the stolovaya to open, as UI haven't money to buy lunch at the grocery store. Sasha, Justin, and Abby came and joined me, and we talked about delightfully disgusting things. Abby hoped aloud that no one nearby spoke English; Sasha had a fit of giggles.

Justin bought Sasha and me candy at the other cafeteria, because it's free for him. He also gave me 10 roubles to buy a coke. I came the rest of the way home by myself. I got to the stop at the same time as the bus--yay! There was a traffic jam, so it was a long ride. I like that you can have dogs, food, and beer on public transportation here. While I'm thinking of it, let me mention that the custom here on escalators is to stand on teh far right, and leave the left side open for people to pass.

I finished up my homework, except I don't really feel like studying for Yevgeny's test; I'll do it tomorrow. I fell asleep and napped for two hours. Nina made plof for supper. Since then, I have been journalling. I didn't really want to, but you have to keep up with things like this, or you won't do them at all.

Tonight I need to call Leah (I hope Nina gets off the phone). I will also probably read more of Sir Thomas; however, it is making me downhearted because all of the heroes do nothing but kill people and sleep with other people's wives. Yes, even the good ones! The stupidity of tournaments is striking, as is the enormous unnecessity of indiscriminate jousting. None of these people actually die in battle, only from stupid fights about whose lady is the purest. All of the ladies are sleeping around anyway. I've observed that everyone's problems in this book stem from sex. It wasn't idealism, but sex that ruined Camelot. I mean, really, you'd think that these people would figure it out, especially with all of their lip serive to chastity. I would think you might at least take the time to determine wheter a lady is your sister before taking her to bed. Plus, the editor, one Norma Lorre Goodrich, has abridged all the parts about Sir Gareth. He used to be my favorite, only it turns out that he is as much of a man-whore as all of the others, so maybe I no longer like him. I will have to transfer my respect to Sir Galahad. Sir Kay hasn't had sex yet, and neither has the King of the Hundred Knights, nor Sir Gaheris. I think this is because they are minor characters. Sir Gaheris's role seems to be "the one who gets knocked off his horse by Sir Tristram". Sir Tristram is disgustingly lecherous and self-righteous, although I liked him until he turned out to be a slut. I am afraid to like anyone else in this book.