For the first time ever, as soon as we walked into our newly-assigned house, the miracle of the internet was all set up and ready to sink into. But for the first time ever, we walked in to no living room furniture. If I had to choose, I would pick internet, but one week later, we are all ready for some embassy-issued sofas.
Surrounding our house: apple trees, grape arbors and pear trees full of fruit. That's how far out of town we are: we live in a neighborhood of dachas.
Maybe because I'm not working, not in the middle of an MFA program, not in the land of shopping, don't have teeny kids, am not working with a contractor on the house, don't have any of my stuff to take care of, organize, clean or use– or maybe I have just forgotten how to amuse myself–I am at a loss for things to do.
Or all this internet is making me boring. Tomorrow I will try knitting, reading and staring at the apple tree in our yard and see if that helps.
On Saturday, Peter and I had nothing better to do, so we went on a six hour stroll around our new city. We walked past parks and metro stations and the most obvious evidence we are back in the former Soviet Union: kiosks selling kvass, everyone's favorite beverage made of fermented bread.
We walked down one major street all the way to Saint Sophia, the cathedral in the very center of the city. On Sunday, Ukrainians celebrated Independence Day; on the square in front of Saint Sophia's–built in 1027–stalls were set up with handmade items for sale, and everyone was wearing embroidered national dress. Down the road was a street fair, with tons of paintings I wouldn't wish on my worst hotel room and many that I regret not buying.
Along with sofas, the house lacked another crucial feature: wine glasses. Peter and I bought a crystal pair on the street for a dollar from someone selling old stuff, then had a cup of tea from another kiosk–it's fun to be back in a country that understands my constant need for cheap crystal and non-stop tea. On the way home the taxi driver kept saying, "You walked all this way?" –more than seven miles.
The three-day Independence-weekend was a nice bonus, and this weekend is another three-day weekend! If you have to show up with jet lag and a mostly unfurnished house with pillows as fluffy as one cotton ball each–two three-day weekends in a row is a good way to begin.
We pass the four day work-weeks wandering around the bare herringbone-style hardwood floors, listening to Good Mythical Morning all day long and waiting for our lives to start. At night, we lay awake, feeling like it's dinner time. One particularly bad night, I was awake until 7:30 am.
A couple nights ago, at 2:30 am, not feeling tired at all, but knowing I should go to bed, I made the mistake of checking my email one last time. I found an urgent note from our neighbor in Tahoe. A bear tore down our front door and rummaged through our kitchen. It's the same issue as in Ukraine, someone wants his territory back. Next thing you know, the raccoons who work as guards will be leaving because they've been drafted.
This bear didn't touch the vodka, but did eat tofu corn dogs (delicately leaving behind the sticks), no-nitrate bacon and frozen shrimp. Clearly a Californian and not a Russian bear.
Yesterday I went to the Embassy, which made me miss everyone at U.S. Embassy Bucharest terribly. I started weeping in line in the cafeteria, wishing for the faces of darling people who work in the cafeteria in Bucharest.
In Moscow, I remember telling my friend Erica: When you find yourself crying remind yourself, it's the jetlag.
I honestly don't remember feeling like this in Moscow. (Or Bucharest, or Niger. Did I?) I must have, or I wouldn't have been so full of wise advice for Erica. But in Moscow I had the metro right outside my door and didn't have to think about learning to drive just so I could buy a wineglass! Camille didn't leave after just a few days! Bears didn't break in! We had sofas!
This has been the most exciting, boring week ever.
twenty-something years of "what have you been up to?" 