From Russia With Love

Man, have I been dying to use that title.

So my place, let me tell you, I'm living in a room with two roomates. And they're cool enough, you know, it's strange. One's shorter than me, kinda fat, kinda hairy, really proud too, sort of doesn't say anything unless he wants to eat, he'll just stare at you kind of funny and yawn if you try to talk to him. But whatever, he's quiet, his name is Timmy (well, Tima in Russian). Then there's Philly (Fila), who's a cool enough dude, a little rough around the edges, he drools when he sleeps and always lies out on my bed. And he's always asking me to go out, he's like, "Danya, come on, we need to go out, I have people I need to see," and I'm like, "Fila, dude, I don't want to go out, I'm tired, and we went out this afternoon already," and he's like, "Come on, you're in Moscow, you have nothing to do anyway," and I'm like, "alright, fine, you're right." Anyway, he's alright otherwise, a bit messy when he eats. Anyway, here's a picture of these two, they're quite a pair, Timski is on the left:

But seriously, yes, I am here in the city of onion domes, red and revolutionary squares, obtuse visa registration requirements, and cyrillic letters. Moscow, be mine. This has been a shockingly relaxing week, with the whole idea of sleeping in the same bed for more than two days a truthfully amazing development. At the same time, I'm on the verge of setting the next two and a half months up quite nicely. Wrestling, visa, maybe work, social life, a soccer team to cheer for in the Champions League (CSKA, where I'm training for wrestling), it's all a pretty good deal. I should also mention that the place I'm staying in is stellar, mostly because the people therein are stellar. A family that includes a generous and dry-witted dad, a very kind and helpful mother, a friendly and slightly dopey son, and an equally friendly and enthusiastic daughter, and the kids are both teenagers. Oh, and listen to our eating schedule: Every meal is followed by tea and sweets, largely in chocolate form. You think I'm in love?

A few more advantages to Moscow life so far:

Watching TV: Educational, always, as it's in a foreign language. And I'm actually getting into Lost, which I never tried watching before, though here it's called "Remaining among the Living" or something.

Music: Well, first, the family I'm here with has an old, not quite functional but decent enough accordion, so I fooled around on it. Number 2, I have a cd player set up in my room with speakers attached that plays mp3 cds, so I have one cd here that has every Beatles record on it, so that's kind of cute. Lastly, I played my 2 Russian songs and "Julian of Norwich" for the folks here. Knocked 'em dead. I plan on hanging out on the hipster street (Old Arbat) and doing the whole playing and putting the hat out thing (I forgot the verb) as soon as I'm legal.

Phone: I have a cell piece, known as a "Mobile phone", here. While there's nothing extraordinary about it, I did manage to set it up so that phone calls from unknown numbers will ring as the opening notes to Bombadil's "Jellybean Wine", and from numbers in my phonebook the notes will be the melody to "Julian of Norwich". So vain.

Fairer gender: I'm told, told mind you, that there's a line waiting for me. Tomorrow I begin to verify.

Anyway, all is well, and here's a little piece I wrote about Barcelona, which wins the following superlatives: Most Intense City, Best City to Vacation in, City most likely to Burn me out.

If that looks like I'm flying, it's only because it's true. Atop Park Guell, with Barca in the background, picture by Mr. Ben Chang.

Barcelona: time spent here: 24 hours +-

Headrush. Barcelona rushes through the visitor as the visitor rushes thorugh it. Fast-paced but in the easy-going Mediterranean style, this city felt like an amusement park. And only partly because modernist architecture, mostly courtesy of Antoni Gaudi, made it look like one (especially the entrance to Park Guell). Barca is high on energy and demands: if you want to go out, you go late; if you want to see the city, you walk a lot and up tall hills.

This felt like the best city to date to vacation in. On th epositive, it offers close to as much high culture as Rome and Paris, meanwhile rounding it out better with beauty, nature, sports, and the beach. More importantly, assuming you don't want to actually rest on your vacation, that Barca energy combines with the high culture for full days. Very full days.

On the negative, that high energy felt constant, and it takes a special type to face up to and meet the standard day in and day out. I would guess Barcelona is not cheap to live in, and as such requires a lot; you might be able to get the best out of it for a year or two, but I imagine burnout is the reward in the end.

Still, I think Barcelona is the "coolest" or "hippest" city of the Western European Cities we visited.