Super-Duper Wacky n' Tacky Euro Adventure

of our weekend trip to before I forget it!

*Approximately one week ago I was gearing up for a prime game of Beirut to be played at our friend Paddy's house. No he's not American, but he loves it anyway! Actually, I think there were only two yanks.
*What I seemed to forget was how early in the morning our flight was the next day.
*Getting up on Friday morning: not so zesty.
*A way too long public transportation trek to the airport on the opposit side of town. Hour and a half was it?
*Meeting the (literally) cheery James at Domodevskaya metro. Damn morning people.
*Tatarstan Airlines again?? I thought we bought with Sibir!
*Have you ever rode a plane whose manufacturer's name is "YAK 43" and boarded it through it's ass ? I have.
* Nizhni Novgorod is one of the biggest cities in Russia. The airport was slightly bigger than my freshman dorm.
*Complete winging it in Nizhni for awhile. First order: find a random bus and ask the locals how to get downtown.
*Somehow we get there and find the local pedestrian street that is the city's center. It's bustling (not really).
*We find a quality biznes lanch for 150 roobs each that included a bottle of French (not really) wine.
*Tour of the Kremlin. Nizhni style. It's not as cool, but still very beautiful and chock full of the obligatory pregnant brides with depressed grooms and their entourages following with champagne and vodka.
*Alright, that's about it. I'm ready for Cheboksari (Olya's hometown and recently declared center of the universe).
*After deciding a taxi would cost too much. We shell out about $7 for a 250km ride to Cheboksari. Nice.
*We found out why it was so cheap: no available oxygen. Instead a fresh supply of smog and sweaty Russians to fill our sinuses. Don't blow your nose, you won't like what comes out.
*We finally make it and chow down on yummy yumminess made by Sveta and Baba Zoya (famed cooks and rumored relatives of Olya's).
*Oh no. Of all places, we go to the local Irish pub! Love the union jack that greets everyone as they walk in the doors.
*Next morning brings Oly's baptism. Yes baptism for a 26 year old. You see, some family friends wanted her to be their baby's Godmother, but she had to be baptized herself. Thus the whole reason for coming down in the first place. So her baptism took awhile. Round three hours. Cute service (is that what they're called?), but the lack of seats in the small Russian Orthodox church got very old very quickly.
*We get some authentic Chuvash cuisine for lunch. Kinda like Russian cuisine, but more bold at times.
*Prepare for the next activity: some beers and snacks.
*The ultimate in relaxation: banya. For three hours, Ksenya's (the good getting baptized the next day) parents treated us to Cheboksary's premier banya; the president of Chuvashia is rumored to frequent the place. That's not sarcastic, but to say that it was really nice and quite the classy place. It included a sauna, cooling pool, numerous showers (one with a radio), changing room, some kind of pool table, electric massage tables, and relaxation room with kettle, refrigerator, and leather couches. Oh yeah, there was also a nice bathroom with a faulty lock; ask Petya for details.
*More and more yummy homemade food, this time From Petya's mom. BTW, Petya has possibly some of the coolest parents I've ever met. Too many things to list, but here's a great example: his dad was going 4 years strong reading Ulyses for fun.
*City wandering with a few beers. Jeeze, that was a tiring day.
*A great sleep and a great breakfast. Unfortunately Olya was off again to take care of the baptism stuff.
*So the rest of us went to take a journey across the river to the lush and beautiful forest along the Volga River.
*There we end up meeting up quite the legend: Narodnaya Actrisa (a big deal title in the USSR and Russia) Vera Koumina a.k.a. Petya's grandma. No idea how old she was, but she was dragging us along the forest, where she was on vacation, pointing out the wild mushrooms and Chuvash wood sculptures that dotted the forest and were made by a friend of hers.
*With full supplies we gather the basic materials for a fire to cook our sausages that were the center piece of our picnic.
*An hour and a half, a lot of wood, and two valiant attempts later, we had no fire. The wood might have been a tad too damp. Oh well, there was actually plenty of other great stuff to munch on and we ended up full nonetheless.
*Back to the mainland. It's not really the mainland, but taking a fairy across a huge river back to the city really makes you feel like you've been on an island for the past four hours.
*A quick visit to Petya's and another way-too-yummy dinner at Olya's and it was already time to finish the weekend and head back to Moscow.
*Almost the entire city of Cheboksary was at the one train station which sends off a nightly train to Moscow. Armed with beer, crab apples, and about seven people total in our party, we reluctantly said goodbye and made our 12 hour journey back to the big city. Sad, yes, I know. But we made the train trip the most of what we could. Not all the beer was drank, but damn, there was a lot. And hey, if we had had the mental capacity to find the last beer, I'm sure we would have drank that too.
*Anyway, next morning. 7am Moscow. How many times have I felt that same feeling of "why did I drink on the train last night?" while cruising the early-morning metro on Monday in Moscow?
*BTW, if you're ever wondering, Amerikanski Bar i Grill does one hell of a breakfast. Plus it was about a fifteen minute walk to my work. Happy days.
*In to work a little early to change into the shirt and shoes that I had left the previous Thursday. On my way in, before changing, I get a comment from my supervisor: "long night?"
*"No. Long weekend." But a good one.

I'm really falling behind here. What ever happened to 'sure, I'll update every other day!'? Well, before I get into our wonderful weekend in Chubashiya, a quick anecdote to show you that no matter what, Russia always get's the best of you - even if it has nothing to do with the crippling bureacracy or people at all for that matter.

So to properly understand the summer weather here, you have to understand that it is nothing like the predictable summers you get in most places in the states. First of all, we're still very far north which means that we are susceptible to cold fronts (yes that's right) even during the summer. Another thing is that like most Northern European towns, air conditioners are just not that common here. Which means when it gets above 30 celcius (about 86) it gets rediculously hot and sweaty around these parts. And you thought Russians were stinky through the other parts of the year. The last thing is that there is a lot of rain and cool thunderstorms which always provide a great show but also make trying to predict what you're going to wear to work and deciding weather or not to bring an umbrella, a difficult task.

So anyway, my parents, with there nice March visit in Paris brought me many wonderful things from the United States - one of which is Claritin D; the allergy sufferers proverbial water from the holy grail. I take "as-is," so I thought the ten box supply would do me fine through the rest of my time in Europe. Not so much. I found the lone last pill yesterday getting ready for work. 'No,' I thought. 'I'll save it for a day when I really need it. Besides, looks like a pretty mild day out there.' It actually had been nice and mild (with a few cold ones mixed in) for awhile and the mild wind probably wouldn't provoke the flowers too much. And it didn't. The problem was it did get a bit hot yesterday. Not too bad (I think 28 celcius), but enough too fire up the ol' air conditioner in the office. No problem. Earlier in June and July I was ready to convert to air conditionology for the cool and refreshing relief that was my personal savior during the earlier heat-wave. But yesterday she turned on me. As I found out earlier, Russians aren't big on changing their filters. I don't even think they have a concept of filters. At least not in this office. Dust. Lots of it. I could almost see it spewing out from the drudges of sleepy filter-confined solitude and delightfully sprayed out in the air and swept into my sinuses. At least 9 times in a row. Well, that's what I counted. Usually I'm a one-time sneezer. I get giddy when people like my dad go over two times. Think it's the most hilarious thing in the world. By my fourth I was halfway down to the batroom after finding no tissues in my bag and the napkin-holder in the kitchen conveniently empty. It was a terrible sight. You can only imagine. Thank God I'm past that "awkward intern" stage and most people were able to laugh it off.

After returning to my desk armed with an entire roll of toilet paper, my sinuses gave my poor nose a break and only eeked out a few more over the course of an hour. The absolute worst part, however, is how my friendly co-worker Sveta (who is generally opposed to all air-conditioners) kindly reminded me how any cold air makes people sick, offering my current state as an example, and told me how I would probably be missing work tomorrow because I now have a cold. Why the mommy-medicine mentality people? Russians are big on science. I know it. Why do they cling to these outdated, unproven falsehoods? Anyway, after endless arguing earlier this summer on the same subject, I could do nothing but blow my nose, shake my head, and utter one simple word which I knew wouldn't convince her in the least bit: "dust."

I now have that last pill in my pocket and it's itching to be swallowed. Nope. High of 18 ('bout 67) today. No air conditioning necessary. Best save it for a day when I really need it.