Blarrrrgghhh

This could be a post ripe for nothing but complaining, but all in all nothing but piddling little things have been going wrong (knock on wood and spit), so I'll just pause briefly to shake my fist at a week long headache, an allergen-induced runny nose, and a triple (or possibly quadruple) canker sore that caused me to wake up looking like I'd been kissing wasps. I've upped the allergy meds, and I'm going to stop by one of the dozen pharmacies I pass every day for some aspirin, and life goes on.

There hasn't been much going on here, besides the normal exhaustion and breakneck pace. On Saturday, we visited the Raif monastery, one of the oldest monasteries in Russia, but of course nothing but the stones was more than ten years old; it was seized in the thirties, gutted, and used as a prison, torture chamber, tank storage, and young-criminal-retraining venue until the nineties.

The monks have done an amazing job bringing it back; in some places, you can hardly believe that such ruin could have been visited on the buildings. Their main cathedral has better acoustics than the concert halls in the area. It is also home to the smallest cathedral (church? translation is hard, but you get the idea) in Europe; it holds exactly seven people.

We had a great guide, who was filled with faith, grace, and a lovely sense of humor. We only got an hour tour, but it was really fun. He answered questions, sang the praises of those who had gotten the monastery back on its feet, told us all to pray to the icon of Mary because she helps everyone- even Buddhists!- and regaled us with the tales of the frog miracle.

Anyway, that was all... wait, what? You've never heard of the great frog miracle of Raif? Where have you been, under a rock? Okay, America is almost as bad, but really.

It seems that when the monastery was first founded, on the shores of a pristine lake in the middle of an evergreen forest in the untouched countryside of Tatarstan, the monks prayed every night. However, all of the frogs in the lake croaked (or, since they're russian frogs, kvacked) so loudly that no one could concentrate. Finally the abbot prayed that something be done about the pesky frogs so they could all get down to some serious praying, and lo- God shut the frogs up, for good. In three hundred years, give or take, there's been nary a kvack from that pristine lake. As our guide says, man may forget something he did after a day or a month or a year, but God always remembers.

But that's not the end of it! It seems that some french people decided to see what was up with this silly silent-frog legend, and brought some good French frogs to Raif to see what was what. They listened, and of course there was not a kvack to be heard, except from their tank of french frogs. So they poured a little lake water into the tank, and their French frogs issued not a peep. Totally silent.

So that satisfied the French, but not the Italians. They came, listened to the silent lake, and this time packed a few Raif frogs back to Italy with them. There, presumably inspired by the mediterranian air, they kvacked up a storm.

So there you have it. If you love nature but the kvacking gets you down, come to Raif.

I also finally managed to buy a chess set, which I had been trying to do for a week, so that I'll have something to do on the boat. I asked our student ambassador where the heck one is supposed to buy a chess set around here, since I hadn't seen any. She looked surprised, and said very matter of factly, "In a sporting goods store!" Then she gave me directions to one and I left, disbelieving.

Then I asked our conversation teacher, who is an awesome guy and it turns out a minor chess enthusiast. Where can you buy a chess set? "Why, in a sporting goods store!"

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, chess is a sport here.

I made my way to the TSUM (central universal store), which is basically a mall, and there, crammed into a store with a bunch of hockey, basketball, darts, and soccer equipment, was a staggering display of chess sets. I bought one of good quality, with a backgammon board on the inside. I'll give it to my teacher when we go- I couldn't bear the idea of three days sitting on a boat playing with plastic pieces so light that they'd blow away in the breeze. Quality in all things, and that means wooden pieces, thankyouverymuch. *snobsnobsnob*

Aaaand I know that I haven't explained about the boat yet, but I was saving that for last. As our big field trip, we're all taking a three day river cruise on the Volga, to Nizhni Novgorod. We'll only get a couple of hours in the city, since the point of the entire endeavor, to russians at least, is to spend a bunch of time on a boat. We're all a little put out by this, but we're stocking up on goodies and magazines and games, and rejoicing that there will be no classes on the boat.

We're all... so... tired. Last friday, a full half of my class (including me) was late. Even our teachers are getting worn out. Thus, the boat will be for chatting and relaxation. I'll spend some time playing chess with my conversation teacher, who is a fascinating man, and chatting with him, and probably spend an equal amount of time attempting to steer clear of our mass media teacher, who is kind of scary. (All of us are highly entertained by him, since he seems to be a jovial madman, but he's also quite sexist, and a bit lecherous for comfort. His classes are very informative, but usually we're all too mortified to take it all in.)

So, that's it. We're halfway through with our time here, and I'm already starting to feel like I've been wasting all my time here. On what, don't ask me, but clearly I have not been doing enough, because I sound like an idiot! Yeah, I know, I'll always sound slightly brain damaged in Russian. I must have improved, but it's such a hard language. So hard. So many things to go wrong. Yarrrr.

So I'll be back on the interwebs probably on Friday, though there's a slight chance I'll post something tomorrow before we go or Thursday after we get back.

Miss you all! Mwah! (Happy fourth, too!)