It's that Time Again

Prof T hardly asked me anything at the oral final. “I know you know most of this.” Well, I don’t. But he was more interested in my upcoming career, and it’s always nice to talk to someone who’s been there and can understand and appreciate the choice I’ve made, even if he was a Soviet Army intel officer.

I’ve stressed for the past three days over two little papers and a final that basically never was. Only when it’s all over, did it dawn on me: the adventure is ending, I’m leaving in 4 days. I started packing tonight because I know little sobriety will be left for the task from here on out. It already looks like I have too much, and I’m going souvenir shopping again. Not for myself; I don’t care much for souvenirs as I do for random artifacts more genuine to my life here.

Life. Here. The words ring like sleigh bells in a winter dream. Have I really been here for almost three months?(Yes.) Have I really become able to understand metro announcements?(Mostly.) Have I grown cold in public yet warm in familiar company?(Always been that way.) Nika worries that I will go back a changed man, alcoholic, to be exact. I only know that I’ve grown yet again. The world’s so big, and every part that I’ve been to has taught me so much. But I’ve had to say goodbye to them all.

So what do I do for the next 4 days? There’s the army museum I’ve been promising myself. There’s the St. Basil’s Cathedral I’ve been promising Alina. There’s the banya I’ve been promising Prof. S. There are the Kovalchuk jersey and Hard Rock Café shot glass I’ve been promising big bro. Then there are Rudolf and Anastasia waiting with warm Russian pizzas and still warmer smiles at the dacha. These last 4 days will be the most kick ass days of Moscow and me. If not, I’ve done enough here.