Девочка из Америки

Заранее извиняюсь за дурацкие ошибки. 

(there's an English translation at the bottom, though I don't know how good it is, the Russian sentence structure was throwing me off)

29: Приземлились в Шереметьево, шел снег. Когда нас наконец впустили, отдали багаж и выпустили, меня встретил двоюродный брат Санька. Он весело начал разговаривать, тоже всю ночь не спал. Вышли мы зачем то на Октябрьской,и потом перлись до Ленинского Проспекта пол часа, с чемоданом.  

30: Вечером я с Санькой и его однокурсниками пошли в консерваторию слушать музыку (они сейчас заканчивают Вышку по Экономики). Опоздали, но билеты бесплатные и нас впустили пока хлопали. Музыка мне не очень понравилась, но там рядом с нами очень мило подплясывала девочка примерно 7-лет, и играла на вообразимых инструментах. Потом мы пошли есть суши и мне задали много ворсов на которые я не могу ответит: как стать известным в Америке? Что думают в Америке о России?

На второй вопрос Санька правлено сказал; вопрос скорее, думают-ли в Америке о России. Я меня такое подозрения что картина России примерно такая, (завесит от уровня образованности): матрешки, водка, Кремль, шапка-ушанка, балет, борщ, СССР (Ленин, Сталин), Холодная Война (и то что Американцы попали первыми на луну), снег/холод, Русский язык/акцент, традиционная русская одежда, Москва, Санкт Петербург, Сибирь.

есть серия шуток “In Soviet Russia...” :

“In America, you watch TV. In Soviet Russia, TV watch you!”

“In America, you rob bank. In Soviet Russia, bank robs you!”

 “In America, you break law. in Soviet Russia, law break you!” 

А дальше зависит от человека:  летающий Путин, салат оливе (который там называется Russian Salad), шпроты, Анна Каренина/Толстой, Достоевский, возможно Ежик в Тумане,  Кандинский или Шагал, коррупция (но в абстрактном виде), программисты, Pussy Riot, балет, икра, газ, новые Русские, (и когда я посмотрела в интернет, оказалось что еще красивые люди тоже входят в список. наверно я что-то еще тоже пропустила, типа группа Тату)

"We are building Communism" рядом с станции метро 'Добрынинская'

   ____________

29: I landed in Sheremetego, it was snowing. When they had finally let us in, given us our baggage and let us out, I was met by my cousin San’ka. He happily started chatting; he had also not slept all night. We exited from the station October-skaya, and then walked for half an hour to Lenin-ski Street, with the suitcase. 

30: In the evening, San’ka, his college-mates (peers), and I went to the conservatory to listen to music (they are currently finishing their studies at the Higher School of Economics). We were late, but the tickets are free and they let us in while the audience was clapping. I didn’t really like the music, but next to us there was a 7-year old girl who was sweetly dancing and playing on invisible instruments. After that we went for sushi and I was asked a bunch of questions I can’t answer: How do you become famous in America? What do Americans think of Russia?

To the second question San’ka responded well; the question is, really, do Americans think about Russia. I suspect that the image of Russia goes like this (depending on the level of education): Matryoshka dolls (aka Russian nesting dolls), vodka, Kremlin, fur hats with ears, ballet, caviar, borsh, USSR (Lenin, Stalin), The Cold War (and that the Americans landed on the moon first), snow/cold, Russian/accent, traditional Russian cloths, Moscow, St. Petersburg, Siberia.

Also there are “In Soviet Russia…” jokes.

The rest depends on the person:  flying Putin, Russian Salad, sprats, Anna Karenina/Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky, possibly The Hedgehog in the Fog, Kandinsky or Chagall, corruption (but on an abstract level) programming, Pussy Riot, ballet, gas, New Russians, (and when I searched the subject in the internet, it turned out that beautiful people also make the list, and probably missed some other things, like the band t. A. T. u.)

Two Flights

Saturday I spent a lot of time looking up flights to Moscow (and doing work), and then I went to the first floor of the library. I found Jack and we went to a show at the Root Cellar. Sycamore, a Bard punk-pop band was playing.  Adrienne/Alana/Cat+ were there as well; mason jar of something strong in hand. They had a good energy.

Jack and I we headed to Manor after picking up the emergency driving phone from security and our things from the library, and Jeff at Manor Annex. We heard that the Social Club and the Formal Club had pooled a lot of money and had fancy food. Jeff entered and scurried out as quickly as he could.

When I entered I felt disoriented. There was a girl in a leotard suspended by a ribbon from the ceiling, and a few other girls around her, blowing bubbles. Everyone was dressed up; top hats, spectacles, flowing dresses, ruffled shirts. The music reminded me of the Great Gatsby, to the point where I felt a flash of the misery under all the drunken partying, and could almost see the flash of green across the water. In reality everyone was actually having fun, this wasn't the constant partying of adults in the 20's. The food was gone so Jack and I drank some St. Pellegrino and ate what was left of the grapes, but I heard rumors of quail, consumed ravenously. Ajax (the boy from the train) Kelsey and Zappa and co. were there as well. Then this girl came out and started doing an old-fashioned strip-tease (she was wearing with a garter belt and a corset). Soon after a tall guy came out in his underwear and clown face-paint and danced for us too¹. Then the back room was opened and there were tables loaded with candy. A giant gummy bear lay in a bed of truffles, bowls filled with licorice and tootsie rolls and people swarmed. After that the dance floor was open to all. We danced; the music demanded foxtrot, samba and the twist.

1 This is when I realized that the party had a lot of overlap with the Surrealist Training Circus and the Burlesque Club.

Sunday there was Midnight breakfast, which involved karaoke. I left as soon as I had my French toast though, I had to paint. At some point I was working at the library and the beer ninja’s came, handing out free cans of cold Budweiser. Slowly everyone left campus. Friday Mama bought my ticket to Moscow. Some girl from Ukraine hear me talking on the phone and started talking to me in Russian, and then asked me if I knew anyone who would write her essay for her if she paid them, and talked about all the fur things she owns.
My last night Hannah and I read Wallace Stevens out loud to each other while drinking tea. Saturday morning I dropped by Adrienne dorm to say bye; she’s going to Ghana for a semester. Eames drove me home and that’s where I was until now².  

2 Hint: I’m currently at the JFK airport, waiting.

At 12am on Monday night my parents and I got to the Christmas scene in the movie Meet Me in St. Louise. Osya had really wanted to do the American-Jewish thing of getting Chinese take-out and going to the movies, and though we didn’t do the former, Mama took all of us to watch the Hobbit. Christmas Day we went for a walk around Newbury St.

Last night around six I finally started packing. I feel like I'm going bearing gifts to half the population of Moscow. Osya said that the balance of the family is off when I’m gone (and then proceeded to repeat the word ‘guilt’ over and over). Shimon was being troublesome about going to bed until I realized that I was leaving, and he wanted me to go through the night-rituals, rather than someone else. Stubborn sweet.

I finished packing after one and woke up at four. Папа kindly drove me to Logan Airport to be on the plane by 6. 

After Pub Fair

That Friday night was the Pub Fair, branded as “A New Bardian Tradition”.

All the college journals bonded together to form a club, and this was their event (the pub-lication fair). There was a keg and tables lined with journals. I came too late for food. A lot of people where there; Amanda, debating weather or not she was tired enough to leave, Alana getting her fair share of beer, Cat with two friends from home. This Bardian Life, a radio show a couple of my friends run (TBL; Kelsey, Zappa), was present too, since in consists of people reading their writing.  They were going to do some readings, but instead everyone started to dance and then people started to do modern contact dancing, which was strange to see outside the context of a dance show.

I walked out to wait for the 11:40 shuttle, and joined two groups that were already waiting. The first group consisted of three girls singing along loudly to their phone, another boy who was singing along with them, holding a bottle in a brown bag. I know one of the girls from my creative nonfiction class, but no one from that class really remembers each other¹. 

1 Oddly enough, considering we basically spent a semester cutting out our hearts and putting them on paper; printed copies enough for everyone. I talked to another girl from the class that day and had to ask her how we know each other, because I knew her name and we started talking spontaneously after recognizing one another. It took us a few moments to remember that it was through Celia Bland's non-fiction workshop.

 

Anyway, them, and a boy I had talked to briefly in the beer line² his friend who started up booty banger³. There was another kid, who I don’t have a good feeling about, but who left soon. He looks like a model (pretty, but not attractive), his name is Will. Booty banger was saying something about that they should hang out more “I love you man!” and getting information on the location of some part`y.

2 Him: Is this water? Awesome! Me: I’ve never seen anyone so excited about water”; that was our conversation. Let’s call him water boy. His hair was slicked to the side, surprising preppy looking for Bard

3 Booty Banger was a dance series at smog, that got quite big.They got shut down because too many local high school students were coming, so intoxicated that they would have to be taken to the hospital in the ambulance.

They were talking about drinking, the girl from my nonfic class said “we should all go to my place and drink all the alcohol there, which apparently is a lot because they are installing a bar” and booty banger was saying something about having to keep that secret “loose lips sink ships” and held a finger to his lips and looked over at me and I made the same gesture, my scarf tangling slightly in my hand. The guy who was singing was trying to get them to play ‘dancing queen’ they ended up playing ‘Fernando’ which one of the girls got indignant about because “it’s the worst ABBA song! I refuse to, like, know you!” at this point the two groups started merging; booty banger sang a bit as non fic girl came towards him and told a story about how she was once mistaken for a celebrity because she had some card and he said something about her hair making her look like Miley Cyrus and she responded by storming of, ‘angrily’. 

Here's a portrait I drew because I don't have any photos

Then the shuttle came. But it was going in the wrong direction. “who told us it was coming in ten minutes?” “emelia (?-or something else. Her name, accusatory)” and she responded to me “wait, but why were you waiting here?” “because I go by the 40” “see, exactly!” “but I don’t have a fancy phone like you, I have an excuse!” and then water boy “do you want me to show you mine” at which point he pulled out his iphone and I was thinking ‘wtf? This is so innuendoed I can’t handle it’ as he said something about the Tivoli shuttle schedule and I told him I don’t live there. Booty banger came up to me and said “what’s your name?” but I responded to someone else, I don’t remember what they had asked, before saying to him “T---” “Antonia?” “T---” “T---, short for T---” “I like that. T---; T---- its pronounceable. (or something along those lines). At this point everyone was herding around me. I had been standing slightly up the hill from everyone, and everyone had come up and was standing around me and he asked me “where in Tivoli Iive” “I don’t, I’m just lazy, I live on north” and then him to everyone “I hear there’s a banging party at kline right now!” which was funny because I knew he had been there earlier, and the nonfic girl “let’s see Dylan DJ!” and something about Dylan and I said bye and left and as I was crossing the street I heard “omg, she’s going to walk all the way to Tivoli” from him and I said “no! I live on north campus!” “she’s like totally thinking that we are crazy” and I waved and kept walking and ended up in my dorm, writing.

Morning Glory

When I came back to Bard I felt a bit misplaced. It’s a familiar feeling though.
I went to Will’s moderation show, for music: drumming'. He passed! He dropped a drum stick and suavely picked up another one without missing a beat. It was a variety of jazzy music.
I had a chamber singing concert, Beethoven Mass in C; it was on a Wednesday, but people still came. 

'when I entered the building some guy said hello to me in a way that I didn't expect on campus, nor knew what to do with

One day I started out eating dinner alone (peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, it was a bad day for kline) and accidentally (and awkwardly) ended up at the “Russian table”. Some good things out of it;

1) I watched Mercury Rising with a girl who took Russian 300 this semester. We had an assignment for our child abnormal class to analyze a character by the DSM. We have quite a few mutual friends, so it's funny that this is how we met.

2) This guy I don’t know but who’s funny says hi to me now (he’s from the Czech Republic, he wasn’t at the table, but he was Andres’s roommate last year). Sometimes greetings can be nice.

3) I get e-mails about Russian/Russia related stuff form the Russian professor Oleg Minin. For example I went to a talk called “Social Vulnerability and the Psychologist in Russia's Vice of Modernization” before the Beethoven concert. Despite the topic, it wasn’t a very good talk, but maybe at one point there will be a good one.

Friday is when it felt that finals had started.

A semester of watching the Smolny (St. Petersburg) exchange students from afar led to nothing, and I became sharply aware of this fact that morning. I wandered past Stargon for a break, my thoughts were flickering a bit. I think that area is usually a bog, but the ground had frozen enough to walk on it. Later, when I left the library for dinner, I met Mark while he was tripping on LSA.

“everything is new, everything is a decision” I’m not entirely sure as to how the mechanisms behind LSA differ from LSD, though I do know there’s a natural source for it: Morning Glory seeds.

(sorry to those of you who expected sexual content?)

Finals is when everything seems to happen. Maybe it's the urgency of time running out, or maybe it's because all the social events happen then, or perhaps because everyone is working so hard, and so everyone is functioning on 'high', pushing themselves in every way. But it always happens.

Thanksgiving 2012

I have a lot of writing backlogged, so I guess I’ll go with chronology.

Jack drove me and a boy from Nepal I had never met before home for Thanksgiving on Tuesday night. The boy thought language was the root of all social ills (as in; the origin of language, the fact that language exists). The next day Mama and I spent cooking. The feast day was spent with Inka&co. We played mafia before dessert.

It’s something I’ve been thinking about. When my parents came to the US, they didn’t celebrate Thanksgiving much (if at all).  The reason Thanksgiving was popularized in the U.S. has very little to do with any origin story everyone is told in school. Rather the point was to have an origin story to bring people together; people from all over the world. It works. 

Like any other year, I went over to Eloosha’s house. There was the Evening of Creativity (творческий вечер), that went until one or two in the morning. After that, ten of us (the university students, that’s what they call our generation) went to hang out with some other people our age in another house. We sang.

It’s interesting, from an anthropological perspective, how we act. Everyone sings, that’s true across all ages. But the students, when together, cease to have the concept of personal space. This isn’t just my friends. It’s other people who grew up in the USA but have Russian roots. I have no way of explaining this; it’s not a Russian thing or an American thing, and it happens very quickly.  

We played laser tag. It was my first time, and I think part of what made it wonderful was that everyone went, ages ten to fifty, more or less. At some point, I asked the generation below us what they though of us. Everyone is very opinionated, but I'm not sure the adults realized that they are not the only ones, and decided not to fall into that trap. But Anya and Etya said that they think we are just really cool, so score.
Before I left, Myron and I realized that Kirill didn’t know what coke and mentos could do together, and decided to right this wrong.