porcelain toys

She plays with her pretty porcelain toys, 
and she breathes in the sweet spring breezes, 
and the wind and the waves are the only noise.

She took a bite of the fruit and the colors exploded, 
and her mind filled with dancers twirling, 
and her voice sang the song of the songbird singing its song to its lover in the neighboring tree.

Show me, show me your love so true and so pure
your hair so soft - your hair so long, 
and sing me the melody of our own song 
that we wrote through the ages long ago.

Final Moments in Paris

We visited a few more stops before we left: Sacre-Coeur & Montmartre and Moulin Rouge. We only got to see the outside of Moulin Rouge. It looked like a fun way to spend an evening.

The walk to Sacre-Coeur was charming. The streets were full of shops and bakeries and cafés. We walked up the tourist street, where we bought some matching scarves and some other small souvenir items.

The Sunday afternoon welcomed locals and tourists as they relaxed and enjoyed the sights from Sacre-Coeur.

Because it is on a hill, the view was incredible. You could see all of Paris. On the way, we were accosted by Africans who forced their friendship bracelets on us. We listened humouredly as they wove the bracelets within minutes and wished us "well-wishes."

"You have boyfriend? Is he black or white? Ooooooh. Very good." We laughed until he wished, "When you're married to him, may you have FIVE BABIES!" Aaaaah. No no no. No child birth. This is now an accursed African friendship bracelet!

The cathedral was also beautiful: the candles were lit and people prayed as the gloriously painted icons looked down. It was so very peaceful.

We walked the streets of Montmartre and picked up some food for our bus trip. Finding the bus was stressful for a moment because there weren't any signs to show the way, but we found it with plenty of time to spare.

The view from the bus (France-->Belgium-->The Netherlands) was beautiful. Unfortunately, the sun set and most of the trip was in darkness, but what we did see was nice: horses grazing in a misty field, castles casually situated in the countryside, white brick houses with smoke streaming from the chimneys, soft hills with autumn colors, rivers with the white bark of birch trees reflecting in the water...mmmm. Savory sights.

It was amazing that only an hour out of Paris we were seeing farms, castles, and chapels, which were always the tallest building, overlooking the towns.

We arrived safely in Amsterdam, but all the public transportation was closed, so we took a taxi to our hostel. Our driver was hilarious and super nice. He offered the trip for 15€, but at the end he said 10€ because he liked us. That's a pretty good deal. :)  He spoke great English and joked around with us, saying I must be a Russian spy since I speak Russian and that we must be from Seattle or San Francisco because I look like a hippie. But we're at our hostel now, and we're comfy and ready to rest.

I can't wait to see what Amsterdam has to offer us!

The Louvre and Notre Dame

We packed bread with brie and salami, filled the water bottle, and went to the Louvre. We ended up being satisfied with a shorter visit (4 hours). It was so huge and there was so much to see!

We got to see the Mona Lisa and some wonderful Greek statues, but my favorite exhibit was the artifacts from Mesopotamia. One of the pillar tops from Darius' palace was there. It was enormous and the gravity of how much wonderful ancient architecture we have lost weighed very strongly on me. I would give so much to walk through the palaces and gardens of Babylon and Persia. Just seeing the meagre remnants made me teary-eyed. In its completeness, I would I have been flooded! Really, I have never seen anything that could have been as grand. Even the jewelry on the busts of women looks like it was incredible.

Let's hope we never lose the Louvre, as the libraries of Alexandria.

After dinner, we walked along the Seine with ice cream, (the most delicious and expensive I've ever had), until we reached Notre Dame. The cathedral was beautiful.

Nearby, we listened to a lady singing opera on a bridge. I got emotional again (was a trend today). To make it worse, a little boy gave the opera singer a pretty leaf he found on the ground. She accepted it so graciously, and it was just such a precious moment.

We sat by the river and just took in the sights. The weather was so nice and the atmosphere so pleasant! We are in France!

And everything is perfect.

To conclude our evening (after a bizarre adventure trying to figure out the public toilets), we bought a bottle of wine and a pack of cigarettes and sat on the stone edge on the Seine. We laughed and talked about our boyfriends: a conversation which got sillier as the bottle got emptier.

Eventually we got back to the apartment after asking a few people for directions, because our abilities to navigate the city of Paris got a bit muddied.

That being said, I strongly suggest sharing a boutteille de vin avec votre bon amie en le Seine.

The Eiffel Tower and Versailles

After we had some sufficient rest and a breakfast of French pressed coffee and baguette, we headed out to see the Eiffel Tower and to visit Versailles.

At the tower, a man tried to sell us a miniature Eiffel, and he would not relent. He heckled from 7€ to 3€, and we still walked away without a mini Eiffel and five free even mini-er keychains.

We took a train to Versailles. Each individual car had a theme. Ours had decorative ceilings, and the part below us (it was a double-decker train) looked like it had antique books on the walls.  It was lovely getting out of big Paris to the suburbs. The streets and rows of houses were so quaint.

When we got to the Versailles station, we purchased our entrance tickets and went to get food at the Brasserie across the way.  We got our French fine dining in, ordering escargots (which were absolutely delicious), duck terrine, steak with onions, and red wine. It was all delicious, and I was kind of freaking out the whole time about the experience. I really love food, and this was actually pretty affordable in comparison to downtown Paris and Reykajvik.

We then made our way up the hill toward the Palace of Versailles.  We walked through a corridor of trees with golden leaves, and there, at the end of the walk, was the beautiful palace I've longed to visit since I was a small child looking at my mom's books with pictures of Versailles from her travels at my age.

Gabi and I got a little giddy as we walked across the cobblestone lot up to the ornate walls and never-ending gardens of the palace.  The day was pleasant and warm, and we were more than satisfied and exhausted when we ended our tour and hopped back on the train to Paris.

Paris!

We arrived in Paris around noon and meet Adeline, our Couchsurfing host, at the Gate du Nord Metro station. She is so sweet! Her apartment is small and charming and has a beautiful view of the Parisian roof tops.  To get there, we walked through one apartment building and through a small courtyard full of plants.  Her apartment awaited us at the top of 6 flights of spiralling stairs with big white paned windows facing the courtyard. We were out of breath at the top, but Adeline had prepared a quiche for us, so we set down our luggage and relaxed in the arms of French hospitality!

After we got our bearings, Adeline took us downtown and showed us the highlights and her favorite places.  We saw the Arc de Triomphe, walked down the Avenenue des Champs Elyseés, caught a glimpse of the Eiffel Tower, had coffee & crepes avec ganache in the Jardin de Tuileries, and took pictures around the Louvre.

The architecture is so consistently beautiful; it's almost overwhelming. There are also so many people here! Gabi and I agreed that it is too crowded and stressful to live in Paris. It's too bad we don't have time to go to smaller cities.

We plan on relaxing the next couple of days and enjoying Paris at a slow pace.  We are already overloading ourselves and we still have two cities to go!

Iceland, pt 2

28 Oct

We woke up before the sun and took Bus 11 to our destination. We got to see the morning commute of the local school children and some workers. Even the children are beautiful ans sweet, (usually well behaved.)

Our tour bus picked us up at Harpa, a massive, state of the art concert hall. The architecture was perfect. The outside was covered in illuminated glass panel, that shimmered colorfully, and the interior was spacious, friendly, and new.

We were greeted by our tour guide, Anna, and began our bus tour of the "Golden Circle." We were accompanied by a couple Midwest Americans, a Norwegian couple, a Spanish lady, and two couples from Britain: an older couple the south and a younger from the north.  The older couple's accents were deep and difficult to understand, but we all got a kick out of them.  The man solely referred to his wife as "sweetie," but he was a bit obnoxious. He insisted that we had Canadian accents, even though we told him we were from the US. He had some snarky remarks, saying Americans can't stand on their own two feet when we skipped on some mud walking down a sleep decline (for which he stayed in the bus, mind you).  We learned of his idiosyncrasies a bit more when he would request something to be in English instead of Icelandic when it was inappropriate and state that there was something the matter with a place if English is not widely spoken.

The younger couple just smiled and was friendly and laughed at my jokes. I liked them.

Our first stop was a geothermal/hydroelectric powerplant that harnesses the heat and hot water near a volcano to power and heat all of Reykjavik and the surrounding areas.  The society has really benefitted from this clean energy. The roads are geothermally heated, which keeps ice off the roads in the  winter. The hot water also helps power greenhouses that provide the country with fresh produce, like bananas! Most of their food is local and organic, which is impressive and delicious.

Next, we visited some waterfalls, a crater, a geyser, and the national park.  We had a lunch of fish soup and lamb soup, both of which were delicious, but overpriced like most food here.

The sights were amazing. I can't really put it into words, so we'll have to suffice with pictures.

Back in Reykjavik we got some coffee and visited the Phalloligical Museum, which, for decency and the same of my readers, I will spare the details. I will say that it was an interesting and laughable experience.

We found a shoddy little corner store and ordered "hot dogs with everything," which had mustard, fresh onion, and french fried onions (or something similar).  They were actually cheap and surprisingly delicious. We also had ice cream. Iceland had mastered the art of ice cream, tell you what.

When we finished our budget meal, we searched out the Hallgrimskirkja Church and then went home to pack. We leave for Paris at 6:30am.

Iceland, pt 1

27 Oct.
We arrived at the Keflavik airport, and we were immediately amazed by the sleek architecture and cleanliness of everything. The bathrooms were actual rooms with their own sinks!

Our bus driver welcomed us with a sign that read my name. I felt fancy and a little famous. As he drove us to our bed and breakfast, we got an education. He was hilarious, giving us all sorts of pointers and comedic and well-meaning advice.

He warned us that there was a serious disease spreading in Iceland: everyone who visited gets infected and always wants to come back to Iceland. I told him that I was already infected.

He was from Lithuania, so we chatted in Russian. He referred to Putin as "Putlin," drawing a comparison to Hitler and told us all about Icelandic bananas, some WWII barracks, and the one and only McDonald's burger in Iceland. Apparently this burger has been televised online for the past four years. He said he would never eat one now that he's seen how long this one has lasted.

When he dropped us off, he said (in Russian), "Thank-you for speaking in Russian! I'm going home and telling my brother!"

Our room at the Blue Guesthouse B&B is in a side house they call a bungalow.  We get breakfast in the morning, but this night/morning we just had some cereal. We were exhausted, so we went to bed.  The beds are so comfortable, warm, and smell welcoming and delicious. I don't know how to make a bed smell delicious, but Iceland does!

We slept until 4pm, which is a bummer, but at least now we're well rested!  I woke up with a headache, but a quick walk up the hill with a powerful wind and misting rain. Cleared it right up!

The air smells like sulfur and the ground is soft to walk on. Ascending the hill, we jumped over volcanic rock and puddles of melted snow. At the top we could see the city of Reykjavik to west, mountains to the north, and the Arctic Ocean to the southeast.

We walked back down the hill and happened upon Bus 11, which took us to Laugaveger Street, which is a long brick road with cafés, bars, boutiques, souvenir shops, hostels, and everything in between. The walls are painted with intricate and bright graffiti.

Everyone speaks English here (95%!), so travelling was easy. We stopped at a place called 73 Restaurant and ordered Icelandic beers, Arctic cod, and lamb steak. Everything was delicious! The potato fries were especially yummy.

We ended the night at a coffee shop to use some WiFi and update you all about our trip...

...and to eat waffles. Tasty tasty waffles...

Boston ✈✈✈ Reykjavik

26-27 October

Our trip has officially begun!

We decided to fly cheap as possible. It's uncomfortable, but we're saving at least $1000! Brief overview of "travels to:"

I nearly forgot my coat in the car at Detroit. That would have been bad.

Boston was mostly uneventful as we spent most of the time trying to find socially acceptable places to nap.  We ate breakfast at Dunkin Donuts listening, humouredly, at the almost elegant Boston accents of workers in their mid-morning coffee break.

We walked with the light, chill breeze into downtown, under bridges and by the bay. We watched tourists mockingly defy the power of Great Britain by enthusiastically throwing fake boxes of tea into the river.

To our great luck, we happened upon a park full of red lounge chairs and took a 3 hour nap in the company of other weary travellers and Boston-ers.  The park had community gardens on the edges and delicious, seemingly healthy food carts that lit the air with yummy scents.

The city, from what we briefly saw, seemed clean bright, and beautiful. Maybe I could live there, but I'd feel snobbish and pretentious. Perhaps it's too clean.

We ordered food and got bussed back to the airport where we waited 6 exhausting hours for our delayed flight with WOW airlines, "Iceland's most punctual airline." Our reaction turned from "wow!" to "wow..."

We've already met some interesting people: a family of Ukrainians (who I of course practiced my Russian on), a 1950s BGSU alumni (small world!), and a pair of 30 year olds who looked like they were 20 because they had "good Asian genes." The latter two were interesting until I realized they never were going to stop talking and their seats were so pleasantly and coincidentally right behind ours on our 5 hour flight.

But enough of the griping. We're on the trip of a lifetime! We are about to make our descent to Keflavik airport. We will be welcomed by a beautiful, stark chill and  50 minute bus ride to our B&B in Reykjavik.

So far, every Icelander is perfect and blonde. If the countryside is as beautiful as the people, we're in for a real treat.

The Closet

I have to be honest and real with you all.  And it's really hard, because I know the only people who read this will probably be discouraged by it.  But this is me, and I have to write it.  

I have a "closet" to come out of, and the most terrifying part is that I don't think that I will ever be able to completely come out of it.  That closet is the religious closet: the closet that I was raised in, that I explored, that I defined my life around, that I travelled across the world to live out, and that I argued and sang praises for for years.  It defined me.  It created me and determined how I acted around my friends, what I chose to partake in, and how I thought about myself and my place in the world.

This religious closet is Christianity.  

I cannot with a good conscious call myself a Christian anymore.  I don't feel guilty about it or angry.  I simply lost faith.  I am not really sure how it happened, but it was a slow progression to something that has revealed to me the most freeing life experience.  I had to make a decision, and it was basically this: my life choices will not revolve around Christianity, God, or the Bible.

I am not an atheist, but I also don't really know where I'd fit in the agnostic spectrum, but I will tell you what I do believe.

There might be a God, there might not.  Frankly, I do not care, but if I am going to worship something, it is most likely not going to be the God I read about in the Bible.  There is far too much that I do not agree with.  And trust me, I have done a great deal of studying about this.  I have argued the sides: I know the arguments, I know the Biblical references, and I know the theological standpoints. I simply do not believe it any longer.  I do not want to continue to force myself to believe in something that I constantly have to make arguments or excuses for.  I want to believe truth.

If I am going to worship anything, it is going to be that which is good and true and beautiful.  By worship, I mean: what I am going to spend my time focusing on and studying and centering my life around.  

I love nature. 

I love people.

I love creating beautiful things.

I love exploring.

I love celebrating.

I love having fun.

I love caring about the important things.

I love figuring out what is important.

I love thinking.

I love pursuing wisdom.

I love painting.

I love understanding and the process of understanding.

I love studying.

I love.

And really, I am perfectly content with this.  It is me.  It's who I am, and it's what I am about.  The problem is that there is this closet: not everyone can know about this.  Not everyone can know that this is me.  And I am coming to terms with that, but it is difficult when your family and friends and the people that support you and have defined your life experience may not understand or be able to accept this.

I am completely willing to date a non-Christian man.  

Heck, I'd marry a non-Christian.

I'd live with him without getting married.

I'd have sex if I wanted to.

If I felt like it, I'd date a woman.

I would get drunk.

I would get high.

I would get tattoos and piercings and die my hair blue.

I would swear like a sailor and express myself humorously.

I'd tell a dirty joke.

I do not have moral restraints against these things anymore, but there's a lot of these things that I would do that a lot of people that I love would be pained to see me experience.  But I do not care about those restraints any more, and I am perfectly comfortable and morally okay with doing these things...

...but unfortunately in a closet.  

I am living a double life.  It hurts.

It hurts a lot.

But I am me, and I am content.

Overwhelmed

I usually don't get stressed out, but when I do, it's terrifying.  Right now, I am so far behind in my classwork that I could possibly not pass this class (one of three) that I am taking.  If I fail, it means I don't graduate in December, which is such a heavy burden.  Right now, I must rely and hope that my professor will give me grace on my late assignments.

Tonight, I am pulling an all-nighter.  My heart hurts because I feel as if I failed and lost focus so many times, and it is catching up with me and making my situation close to hopeless.  And my head hurts because I am exhausted and overwhelmed by the amount of French vocabulary and grammar and all sorts of other topics in my head.

And still I must press on.  It's at times like these that I remember what I am working towards.  I get to graduate!  I get a degree that will help me get a job, and then I will pay off loans and be able to spend my time working with orphan children who have had life a whole lot harder than me.  It's hard for me to complain or lose hope when I contrast it with what other people are going through.  And I can go be with them soon if...if I just get this damned French homework done.

Censored

When I am at school, I often watch what I say because I don't want people judging me by my religion and the correlating religious stereotypes.

When I am at home, I watch what I say because I don't want people to think I've completely lost my faith because I don't conform to their stereotypes.

Dvadtsat Dva!

Twenty Two!

Today is my 22nd birthday!  Yay!

When I was younger I loved the number 22.  The number 2 is just so pretty, and having 2 twos right next to each other is superb.

I also thought that 22 year-olds were pretty adultish.

So, here's to a happy, jolly year of "adulthood."  I look forward to it joyously.

Also, this year, I just wanted to share how thankful I am that I got to spend it with my little sister.  I haven't in the past couple years, but we finally got to have our joint birthday celebration.

And let me tell ya, she was born two days before my 13th birthday after YEARS of praying for a little sister for my birthday.  Call it good luck or a blessing: she came home from the hospital on my birthday, and she's the best birthday present I ever received.

Half a glass

Today was emotionally, physically, and mentally exhausting, but then I found solace in knowing that I was spiritually content. Knowing who I am and having decided what I am living for makes life a little bit more livable.  Call me an optimist. I guess I'd rather be called a realist, though. I know who I am. I know things can be bad or good but really, things just are. And knowing the essence of a thing and the purpose of it helps understanding. What I am saying is that the glass isn't half full nor is it half empty; it is simply half a glass. Why make something negative or positive out of it? It just is.

Then I realized that this whole question of existence bothers me. Everyone's just trying to figure out the great philosophical question why are we here?  Why? I dunno. And nobody will ever know, so decide. Just decide what your life is for. I did, and I think its why I'm content and why things are alright with my soul.

I aim to end complacency.
I strive to pursue and uphold and admire beauty.
I long to love anyone who needs it.

And often, I fail at my aims, strivings and longings, but I know who I am and know there is hope.

The way I see it is that every moment is an adventure and an investment for more adventures. Each moment can be hard, but it's an investment. A moment can be dull, but an investment. Heck, things can be happy and lead to an adventure.

Just decide to live a life well lived and don't ever give up. If something sucks, make it not suck. Be cliche and be the change you want to see in the world.

End rant.

Pure of Heart

I was once told that I had a pure heart.

Granted, this was from a Nigerian man sitting in front of me on a plane to Ukraine after only a short discussion on my life and dreams.

And, certainly, I would love to say this is true about myself, but rather than pridefully (and hypocritically) claim it, I will set it as a goal.  His words inspired me to think about this idea of purity.

What is purity, especially that of the heart?

My Christian upbringing would tell me that it is an aversion to sexual sin and physical desires: a life unpolluted by worldly cravings.  But I think it is something much more than that.

First, (a small rabbit trail, here) I think sexuality is overdramatized by most of the population, regardless of religious beliefs.  Contrary to popular belief, sex is neither the epitome of evil nor the utmost goal that one can achieve.  It is simply a biological process that is, yes, very vital to our society and personal lives, but really should not be the only aspect of humanity that dictates that one is pure or has a pure heart.

Second, I think purity is something deeper: something we cannot fully understand or achieve.  And purity is not always white and clean.  Something can be pure gold or pure mud.  Pure alcohol, pure blood.

What then is a pure heart - a purity of the soul?  I think it is an individual trait.  Purity shows that someone is not in conflict: a trait that is certainly unattainable.  One cannot be purely good, purely beautiful, nor purely wise without conflict, because we are purely human, and humans have this annoying tendency to cause or live amidst conflict.

Philosophers will debate what it means to be fully human.  For me, I think we each must decide what it means to be purely human, and I have decided to pursue goodness, beauty, and wisdom.  If someone is as good enough to say that I have a pure heart, I might as well try to prove them right.

Perhaps such a decision or such a hope is what that Nigerian man saw in me.  I hope I live a life worthy of this gracious compliment.  One thing is for sure: the conflicts of the future will give me ample opportunity to practice.

Guide to Your Ultimate Hipster Pad

• Must be dimly lit, preferably in an attic or basement.  Main floor is too mainstream
• Have at least 3 maps from big cities or foreign countries
• Art from only local artists
• A pinecone garland (or garland from any nature, really, you must display that you are one with the EARTH)
• Ransack your local antique store for vintage goods such as typewriters, old landscape paintings, and clocks.
• Have a stack of suitcases in varying colors.
• Your furniture must be at least 30 years old.
•  Have an assortment of books on topics, which no one knows about.
•  Have an assortment of aged hardback books…not for reading, just for décor purposes.
• Sewing machine, because you’re obviously making your own clothes.
• Quilts, slightly used with a strange odor that no one can quite identify.
• Dangle Christmas ornaments from the ceiling to be ironic.
• NEVER TOO MANY TAPESTRIES
• Band posters from your favorite underground indie bands.
• Your secret Pinterest crafts that you pass on as your own ideas.
• Your luscious, completely unique wardrobe on display for all to see: especially your oddities and accessories stolen from your grandparents.
•  Loose leaf Earl Grey in a Mason jar.
•  Incense always burning.
• A garden gnome.
• Rugs.  The whole floor is covered in rugs.
• So cozy your uncle Ricky would want to have a sleepover with you.

Follow these instructions and your charmingly obscure pad will be inviting even to the set designers of Wes Anderson films.

Much love, Arielle & Gabi

By me.

This is a poem to a boy and also to the world.

You're fast asleep and don't wish to be woken,
And I'm certain you'll never be woken by me.
You sleep while the world is constantly broken,
And I hope it will never be broken by me.

С днём рожденне мне!

I celebrated my 21st birthday in Russia!  Wooo.  Coolest thing.

Our excursion was to Peter the Great's Summer park.  And there, Dr. Pogacar surprised us with birthday ice cream!  Wooo!  Ice cream.

Yesterday, Stephan, Naida, and I got approached by a Jehovah's Witness from Armenia.  In English.  At Burger King.

There's no escaping!

Hot...But Ice Cream!

So, today was super fun!

I woke up and went on an adventure to find a Nazarene church that my friend Vitalik in Ukraine told me about.  The Google Map directions lied.

After a few buses, metro rides, and input from +5 kindly people on the street, I found it!  And it was fantastic.  I was welcomed by the pastor, who I had messaged yesterday, and he introduced me to his English speaking friend, Alexandrina, who then translated for me when I was confused.

There were only about 20 people there.  They sang American 90s worship songs in Russian, so I knew the songs.  And then there was a short sermon and communion and community prayer.  It was just wonderful.  They invited me back again.  I said yes and regretted that I couldn't stay for tea.

I took the metro and met my friends on Nevsky Prospekt.

There we met Maria.  (Yes, everyone here is named Maria/Marina).  She's going to be our guide to all things St. Petersburg.  And thank goodness, because she is so nice and knows everything.  She took us for a very long walk down Nevsky Prospekt (the main street in Peter', if you didn't know) and then to the Peter and Paul Fortress.

It was beautiful there.

Because it was so warm today, many people were out sunbathing.  Naida and I just got ice cream and sat and talked for a bit.  It was nice.

Later, I talked to Marina, my host mom, about my day.  When I tried to explain the church that I went to, she got very worried.  I was quite confused and frustrated because what I could understand was that she thought any church that wasn't a state ordained Russian Orthodox or Catholic church wasn't a good church.  She told me that the church I visited wasn't a church at all, but a sect.  It wasn't until her daughter Maria came home that it was explained to me.

Apparently there were sects that were bringing people in off the streets to a sort of house-church and then hypnotizing them.  Thus, house-churches have been banned in Russia.  Marina and Maria were worried that I'd get hypnotized.  It's kind of funny, but I'm glad they cared.  I reassured them that I have many friends in Ukraine who know this pastor and have been to this church, that they didn't just pull me in off the street, and that it was a legal church.  They were relieved.

Excellent.  Now, perhaps, they won't think I'm a completely incompetent, naïve, and easily-persuaded young traveller, which seems to be the opinion they had after todays excursions.

Whistling

Russians think that if you whistle indoors you will always be poor.  Nobody's here right now, so I'm whistling.  I wasn't planning on being exceedingly rich anyway.

St. Petersburg!

We took a day train from Moscow to Saint Petersburg.  The countryside was stunning.  I want to live there (at least for maybe 73 days).  There were hills and valleys and meadows and lakes and little cottages and so many trees!

The lilacs are blooming in St. Petersburg.  The streets are full of people.  The buildings are antique and every one of them gorgeous.  The people are gorgeous, too.  The women in their dresses and the guys look pretty normal and well dressed, too.  Normal as in not every one of them has a mullet.  Cool.

Anyway,  I was kind of squealing a lot on the van ride to my host family.  Jess hugged me, empathizing with my uncontrollable enthusiasm.  Oh my goodness.  I'm living my dream!  This is so fantastic.

My host family is a mother and daughter: Marina and Maria.  Maria, the daughter, speaks English, and they currently have another lady living with them who is from Mexico and speaks excellent English, Russian, Italian, and Spanish of course.  Marina and Maria went to bed, but she made tea for me, and we sat in the kitchen and got to know each other.  Wow.  This is going to be so cool.

Mrs. Marina will make me breakfast at 8 am, and then I will explore the area until I meet up with the rest of our group at the nearby Metro station.

Tomorrow is exploration day, so there are bound to be pictures!