Well my darling Rocketeers, this is the last entry I'll be writing from the Motherland. Right now, it's 3 a.m. My taxi comes at 4 to make my 6:30 flight. Other than that, I should be sleeping, but I haven't actually slept in two days. It's been a crazy last week, with me trying to squeeze everything possible into my dwindling time and expanding suitcases.
Between all my different groups of friends and acquaintances, I've had a couple going-away parties. The most memorable was the one that followed my final JCC class last week. One of my students there is simply wild about her dacha, talks about it all the time. I asked her to bring me something from her garden, but she misunderstood me, and thought I was asking her to bring me to her garden. So, after class last Tuesday, she said, "Well, let's go!" After a whole year of working together, it was great to relax, drink beer and speak Russian with these friendly folks. Another day, I had an incredible marathon cooking-and-eating party with my local rabbi's wife and family. Turns out, it's not kosher even to have cats and dogs as pets. Oy vey! Sunday night I invited a bunch of friends over for a "Let's clean out Abbie's fridge and closet" party. I can say it was even more successful than I'd planned, since it became a sleepless sleepover.
In other news, I went to the Ekaterinburg zoo, which wasn't as bad as I expected, but still pretty sad. The boy and girl animals are separated (are they orthodox?) and pretty much no one in there has enough space. Except maybe the rodents, one of whom I alone noticed was giving birth. I also noticed the monkeys were fed yogurt. Weird! And it's always funny to see what animals are considered exotic by someone else's standards. That is to say, in this zoo, attractions include a skunk, a raccoon and squirrels. But nowhere were there more people crowded around in bewilderment than the tank of axolotls, the very same pink smiling amphibians we used to have as pets. Finally, elsewhere in the city, I managed to buy all the souvenirs for myself, friends and family that I'd dreamed. Lemme tell you, Uralski stones are gorgeous, but they're heavy as hell!
Now, one final story, which I considered not publishing on here, but as a "journalistka," my responsibility is to tell the truth, or my version of it. So, if you have a weak stomach or are my mother, you might want to stop reading here.
Raise your hand if you're familiar with "rope-jumping." Basically, it's bunjee-jumping, only without the boing. You tie a rope securely to some high up structure, attach it to a rock-climbing apparatus that looks like leiderhosen and, well, jump. I had never heard of it, but Danil, one of my student-come-friends is a seasoned rope-jumper. Since the beginning of our acquaintance, he's been talking about the most popular place in the city, this great big bridge over the river, for practicing the...sport? So today, my very last day in Russia, we decided, in the wise words of Van Halen, "Might as well jump."
Now when I say you jump off a bridge, I'm not talking about a pedestrian bridge. Rather you have to scale up underneath a highway bridge, already holding on for your dear life just to get to a place where you can stand. Then, in the middle of the structure, a place not designed for foot traffic, was a group of maybe six young men and women, or better to say boys and girls. One of them, dressed like a security guard in military fatigues, was the owner of the apparatus, and spent his free time hanging out there, helping anyone who wanted to jump. Incidentally, this was maybe my first and only experience of someone in Russia offering his services and materials to strangers for free use! After watching others a few times, they harnessed me up and I climbed over the edge. After almost chickening out a few times, I jumped! Actually, it's more of a fall than a jump, and backwards at that. I guess it looks like suicide, and probably sounded like murder the way I screamed. Then you just swing back and forth until you pull yourself up (for boys) or get pulled up (for girls).
What a rush! Afterwards, I was really speechless, only able to say things like "mama dorogaya" ("mother dear"). Having been so close to punking out of the whole thing, I was super-proud of myself. In fact, my buddy Danil started doing it only because he's so afraid of heights. I mean really, how many people can say they've rope-jumped off a bridge in Ekaterinburg? And I bet dollars to donuts I was the first American girl to do it. After we climbed down from the bridge (which was, in some ways, the scariest part of the excursion), I strutted like I've never strut before. I felt like strangers could see the adrenaline flying through my veins, or at least could tell that I had some amazing secret. But now I guess the secret's out. Sorry Mama Dorogaya!
I started writing this entry in my (former) Ekaterinburg apartment. Already now I am sitting in the Ekat airport, waiting for my flight
The post above was never "completed," but was printed in full for the reader's understanding of my frazzled mental state.
No comments:
Post a Comment