My coat crackles and the snow squeaks under my boots as I make my way to the church. We've been having deep cold in St. Petersburg. It reminds me of Yakutsk. Back home my friends and family are running around in t-shirts. Figures.
Inside the church building, there is a trail of dirty, wet boot prints leading up the stairs. My white gloves are slowly turning black. Welcome to Russia. This is why I keep a pair of tennis shoes at the building. Well that and my boots get hot. I only wear them all day on Sundays.
Yesterday evening Luka and I went to meet a babushka at the metro. She's been having a rough time. We take her some money and a Bible. When we get to the metro stop she's waiting for us. Almost as soon as she sees Luka she starts crying and big tears roll down her weathered cheeks. I don't know what to do so I pat her arm and hand her a kleenex. Sometimes that's all you can do. Her eyes light up when we give her the Bible. I hope she reads it.
The internet randomly turned off in the apartment yesterday. Again. I could've played with the router and things. I would've eventually figured it out. Instead, I play the Damsel in Distress card on my neighbor, Dima. "The internet isn't working," I say. "Can you fix it?" He turns the router off and back on. It works. I feel dumb.
I am watching the men empty the dumpsters on my way home after choir practice. It is a giant garbage bag with a dumpster lid that they are putting into the frame. I don't see the patch of ice and I slip and fall. The garbage man stares at me.
When I peel off my jeans and leggings at home, I see my knee is scraped and bleeding. I am more upset about my jeans getting dirty. I literally just washed them.
Tomorrow we are showing the movie Groundhog Day at the church building. I worry no one will come.
Inside the church building, there is a trail of dirty, wet boot prints leading up the stairs. My white gloves are slowly turning black. Welcome to Russia. This is why I keep a pair of tennis shoes at the building. Well that and my boots get hot. I only wear them all day on Sundays.
Yesterday evening Luka and I went to meet a babushka at the metro. She's been having a rough time. We take her some money and a Bible. When we get to the metro stop she's waiting for us. Almost as soon as she sees Luka she starts crying and big tears roll down her weathered cheeks. I don't know what to do so I pat her arm and hand her a kleenex. Sometimes that's all you can do. Her eyes light up when we give her the Bible. I hope she reads it.
The internet randomly turned off in the apartment yesterday. Again. I could've played with the router and things. I would've eventually figured it out. Instead, I play the Damsel in Distress card on my neighbor, Dima. "The internet isn't working," I say. "Can you fix it?" He turns the router off and back on. It works. I feel dumb.
I am watching the men empty the dumpsters on my way home after choir practice. It is a giant garbage bag with a dumpster lid that they are putting into the frame. I don't see the patch of ice and I slip and fall. The garbage man stares at me.
When I peel off my jeans and leggings at home, I see my knee is scraped and bleeding. I am more upset about my jeans getting dirty. I literally just washed them.
Tomorrow we are showing the movie Groundhog Day at the church building. I worry no one will come.
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