Okay it's coming.

Russia: the short version:

Was wonderful, daunting, exhausting and utterly unforgettable. I still am a little bit amazed that I went and came back alive, uninjured, and in a sound mental state.

Highlights: I saw Swan Lake at the Mariinsky Theatre with the Kirov Ballet, with E.B. and Ilana. Even without much context or background, I knew that the company was/is one of if not the best in the world. And it wasn't just the dancers, even though the dancers were untouchable. The holistic experience of the space, the design of the ballet and the orchestra! Oh, the orchestra! The ballet was definitely one of the best things about the trip, in my life, ever, you know.

I went to te Hermitage and the Russian Museum, which were both excellent. Though I liked the Hermitage, especially the Rembrandt room and the third floor, where all of the modern art is (including Matisse's The Dance), it reminded me a little too much of any old European or American art museum. Or, it just seemed like I was looking at art that was really similar to things that I could see here in Florence, or back in the States. On the other hand, the Russian Museum was excellent because I was exposed to all new artists and artworks. I'm pretty sure the Rodchenko (Black Spot) was on loan, but even so, I saw so many things that I liked. Here is what is probably my new favorite painting: Nathan Altman's portrait of Anna Akhmatova, the poet.

Also, E.B. (bless her heart) and I went to all the small, weird museums, like the Museum of Bread. And the Museum of Hygeine. And the Museum of Arctic & Antarctic. And the National Zoological Museum, with (the famed) Bryan Billings and Lauren and Vicky, E.B.'s friends from Smolny. Seriously, in what other country would there be an entire (newly renovated!) museum devoted entirely to hygeine? And and and, the Kunstkamera. How to even describe that weird and wonderful and very quite disturbing place. It was St. Petersburg's first museum, where it exhibited Peter the Great's collection of 'curiosities,' which was a nice euphemistic way to say 'mutant babies preserved in brandy for three hundred-plus years.' I love Russia. I saw the churches, (Spilled Blood, Kazansky Cathedral and St. Isaac's) and sat in on a much less awkward Orthodox mass, which was really peaceful and nice, quite unlike the hectic pace of Russia. E.B. and I attempted unsuccessfully to go to the Summer Gardens twice (in the rain! It rained all week, actually) before finally succeeding on the third attempt. At the souvenir market behind the Church of the Saviour on Spilled Blood (try saying that three times fast) there was an artist selling these wonderful black-and-white photographs that are mounted on hand-decorated card stock mats. I'm not going to lie, it's kind of cool to be known as "the girl who went to Russia" by my professors. My favorite professor here, Ingersoll, is kind of scatter-brained and definitely still doesn't know my name, but wants to see my photos from Russia. Anyways, I think that's kind of cool.

I got to go to Smolny, too. The study abroad program there is so, so different from Syracuse. Well, it has about the same proportion of girls to guys, but that's about it. It's 25 kids, dropped in Russia, moored only by their wits, and Bryan Billings. I'm kind of in awe of everyone who does it, who goes to Russia, because it's a really hard country to live in. It's... rough, unrefined, still very different from western Europe, but all of that is concealed, almost lulling you into a false sense of security. It's a country that I wouldn't have survived in if I had visited by myself.

Oh! And I spent an unexpected extra six hours in Moscow because I had to take a later train. Don't worry, parents, everything turned out fine in the end, and that is what matters. Nevertheless, instead of taking an afternoon train from Moscow, I took an overnighter, and Bryan, bless his heart, phoned around frantically until he found me a chaperone, which was a very sweet and unnecessarily nice gesture on behalf of a complete stranger. But, my knight in a... shiny, white, commemorative Lithuanian Olympic team parka took me to see Red Square (St. Basil's Cathedral, the Kremlin, and the Lenin Mausoleum) before I actually finally departed for Petersburg. And for that I am very thankful, because it would have been a shame to not see those sights.

After Russia was a whirlwind of transportation and (more) rain. I took another overnight train from Petersburg to Riga, as my flight to London left from the Riga airport. Riga, unlike Moscow and Petersburg, was of an eminently manageable size, thank goodness. That's another thing about the cities in Russia: they are enormous. Or, they really make you realize how tiny of a city Florence really is. And it wasn't just the size/population, the scale is dumbfounding. In Moscow, the width of a normal street would be the width of an entire piazza in Florence. But Riga, Riga was/is a Medieval city and thus much more similar in scale to Florence, which was conforting. I walked around in the morning, saw two churches - St. Peter's and the Dome (cathedral) of the city and went to two museums. First, I went into the Museum of the Occupation of Latvia, which traced first the Nazi and then the Soviet occupation of Latvia. It was one of those sobering museums, detailing the hardships of occupation, and what was really moving were the museum's vast collection of personal artifacts made by political prisoners whilst in Gulag. Then, to lighten things up, of course I went to the Museum of Decorative and Applied Arts, full of, not folk art like I had expected, but modern and contemporary jewelery, book covers, weaving and other textiles, ceramics, et cetera. Very interesting stuff, definitely, a lot of things that looked like they could have been in P.S. 1.

LONDON, finally! I have been itching to go to London for so very long. And even though it poured the day I was there and I didn't wear my Hunters, it was okay because I was finally in London. I got an early start that morning by going to the markets at Portobello Road, which was nice and completely my scene, but knowing I didn't want to/couldn't buy anything meant that it also felt a bit empty. Nevertheless, I was really happy to finally finally see everything. And, moment of utter and complete validation, the none-too-easy-to-impress employees at the Paul Smith store in Notting Hill liked my bag ! It's the brown leather bag with purple trim I bought in Perugia a couple of weeks ago that is, in a word, perfect. One of those 'destiny' items, you know? Anyways, that was kind of like ultimate validation. I also finally went to the Persephone Bookshop, not the one in Bloomsbury but their new store in Notting Hill. It was... everything I imagined it to be and more. Funny story about how I left Italy with two books and returned with six...

After the outdoor portion of this journey, I hopped back onto the Tube to go to the Victoria & Albert Museum, because of course I love nothing more than decorative art, apparently. Entering from the South Kensington tube stop, the tunnel deposits you directly into the 'Europe from 1600-1800' wing, which is of course basically every reason that the French Revolution happened - Sevrés porcelain and gaudy Rococco reliquaries and everything beautiful yet utterly superficial. I loved it all.

Then then then on to the British Museum - it's kind of ironic the fact that I went to London to see the Parthenon marbles, and my roommate Kristin went to Greece, including Athens, and saw the Parthenon, sans marbles. Ah, the discreet charm of colonialism! Anyways, the stuff in the British Museum, the Rosetta Stone, all important, blah blah blah (it just wasn't really my scene). But what was actually very cool was an installation they had called Statuephilia, which entailed five works by five contemporary sculptors installed into the context of the British Museum. So, for example, you had Damian Hirst's private collection of painted plastic skulls, just hanging out in a glass-front case in the 'Enlightenment Room' (hmmm...) of the British Museum. Or Marc Quinn's ridiculous sculpture, Siren, of Kate Moss. And Ron Mueck's monumental self-portrait installed in front of one of the moai from Easter Island. It was a very... clever exhibit. Seriously check out the website, it gives you a good introduction to what is the what.

ThenIwalkedbackinthewindandtherainandthenIfellasleepandthenIflewbacktoItaly. Whew.

That was... my fall break.

Okay, I'm going to be late for dinner.

Finally finally (finally),

OBAMA.