Day One

Well, day one. I guess just being here, at least for the moment, is just about all I can ask. In the 12 hours or so that I' ve been here, I've had enough adventures and screw ups to satisfy me for a while. By the same token, that old exhiliration is pulsing smoothly again, and maybe I can put all this unease behind me for a while. My emotions are so much different this time around, its consistantly surprising. I feel like I should rename or atleast rededicate this journal to everyone that has grown so important to me in the past three years since I last fled the country, it is them I think about as I walk the streets, composing. Everything reminds me of conversations I've had, arguments, discussions. We always figured we had it easy, way back when in Czech, because just falling into that life meant no one expected anything of you. More so than just that, three years ago I was very much running away, very much alone, and very very very naive. Now I know better, but now I have no excuse. All day today I've been watching my actions in split screen, step by step overlaid with that first discovery back in Prague and New York. Definitly had several oh fuck kick me moments, defininitly had some stupid choices, and some serious resentment of having to deal with everything myself, versus getting blissfully led through all this entry bullshit. My actual language facility has already prooved both holey and oh so useful. I got taken for a ride in an unmarked cab coming from the airport. This I expected, but by the same token I'm not sure what I could have done differently. According to the girl at the reception desk here in the hotel I paid atleast double what I should have. Sitting there, I just wished I would've had the balls to take the marshytka or the electrichka train to the metro, atleast then I wouldn't have felt so ridiculously helpless. A good reminder, I guess. I've given myself today to wallow in my American-ness, hide in the room all day, eat in a restaurant, wear sweatpants, etc. Tommorow begins the assimilation.

Though I'm slightly resenting the responsibility that comes with having a decent handle on the language, I'm rapidly remembering the uses of linguistic proficiency. Tonight after I'd eaten in the restaurant at the hotel, I realized I probably didn't have enough rubles to pay the cab back to the airport in the morning. So I went back down to the desk to find out where I could change the rest of my euros. The girl I had talked to earlier wasn't there, so I asked the security guard. I started in English, but soon switched to Russian once he started answering. I guess I didn't quite catch all the directions (yea, how notoriously my brain turns off after the first five minutes of important information), because I ended up wandering around the metro station for about half an hour. Finally I gave up, and found myself back at the hotel near in tears. After further consultation, with both the guard and the girl, I figured out where the misunderstanding was (this whole conversation was in Russian, mind you) and was just about to set out again, when the guard offered to drive me. I was so blown away. But that kindness would definitly never have happened if I'd been speaking English. Never.

Enough. More masochistic adventures tommorow. Bring it.