Yesterday when Aunt Kelly and I were getting tickets for the Andy Warhol exhibit I decided not to bother trying to get a Russian citizen-priced ticket, but to try to get a foreign student ticket instead, even though I didn’t have any of my expired IDs on me. People always think I’m a student anyway. I don’t feel guilty about this because as a foreigner working in Russia I’m supposed to be eligible for Russian price, but you never know whether the lady in the booth is going to be a bitch about it or not.

Anyway, after asking for one foreigner ticket and one foreign student ticket, the woman in the booth tried to explain to us in halting English that several rooms of the exhibit were closed and we might want to come back another time. I replied in Russian that we’d go to the exhibit anyway, and she said, “OK, and I’ll give you a Russian citizen ticket.” Whether she was impressed with my Russian or just felt bad that we’d be paying so much for an abbreviated exhibit, I’m not sure.

Today I was walking down Sredny Prospekt on Vasilevsky Island, the sun was shining brightly (real sun, not the “useless December sun” of one of Kostia’s stories), some birds were chirping, and I felt like spring was in the air. Mind you, it was (just) below freezing. But this kind of weather IS typical for a St. Petersburg March, so it is springlike by some standards. I’m not sure whether it’s good or bad for me to be adapting like this.

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