A week in

I'm sitting in the Smolny Institute computer lab, which is on the fourth floor of... this building. I should know what is is in reality, but I don't. The point is, I can see the Neva out the window, as well as big puffy clouds that seem closer to me than big puffy clouds usually do. It's the most convenient place I know of right now to get wireless. And it's not very convenient to bring my laptop here. I mean, I have a 35 minutes bus ride here and then I have to carry my computer along with me throughout the day.

I don't mean to sound crabby, but the fact of the matter is, I am very tired. This session of intensive Russian Language is taking the life out of me. From 10 to 1:20 or so we have four classes: Грамматика, Разговорная практика, Письменная речь, and an 'elective' (Grammar, Conversational practice, written speech). Today we had Фонетика (phonetics), at the beginning of which the professor, Светлана Борисовна Степанова, had us talk about ourselves. I thought she just wanted to get to know us, but NO, she was listening to our accents and called some people out on their mistakes. Sneaky. Later, we recited some tongue-twisters and that made up for it.

The point is (yes, I'm making another point), we've had lots of homework, a fact Алеша can attest to, seeing as he's called me more than once before I left for school and I still hadn't finished all my домашнее задание.

Yes, home. My host mother is an understanding woman who lets me alone for the most part. I have not been harangued about my going outside with wet hair, made to put on socks, or scolded for not eating enough, as some of my groupmates have. Her son has a work schedule I haven't quite figured out yet, though I found out yesterday when I came home earlier than usual and he was there, that it involves two days off during the week because he works on Saturday and Sunday. He also told me to fill up the water pitcher. Ok, I can do that.

Just a taste right here of St. Petersburg: driving. I don't know how much of this insanity is large city stuff in general or what, but when I was being dropped off at my host family's, the driver would have made me fear for my life if he had not so clearly seemed to know what he was doing. The dashed lines were mere suggestions to him. Also, walking home from Primordskaya (metro station) one Sunday, we saw a car accident on the street next to us. Not even a week into my stay here, not even at an intersection, but BAM black smoke and staring spectators.

Tonight is an introductory dinner at a restaurant on Malaya Sadova, a street about two blocks long. I think I'll be walking there, but how long that will take, I do not know. It's a nice day, though, and word on the street is that we won't have many of those in a month or two. Let's hope I have enough energy to spit out information about myself to real Russians. Пока.