Сколько зим, сколько лет!

Hi again from Moscow. In case you are wondering, the heading (my first in Russian) roughly translates to How many winters, How many years! That's right: It has been quite a while since I have written, which I feel I should apologize for. I don't have any pictures for this update either. Again, my sincerest apologies. This may sound like a lame excuse, but it has been too cold to even take my camera out in the last week or so. The temperature has dropped dramatically since my last post. I can't really explain why, but for some reason I have absolutely fallen in love with the winters in Moscow. The city really is beautiful in winter time: the tree branches painted white by a thin layer of snow, the faint yellow hue of the street lights, the breath of passers-by forming puffs of smoke that disappear into the night sky. I absolutely love it! Maybe it is a sort of nostalgia, but the cold weather really gives me a feeling of comfort and warmth: memories of snow forts and snowball fights waiting for the bus to arrive, sledding down the hill in the back yard with friends, then running into the house afterward for a warm cup of hot cocoa with a generous serving of marshmallows. I'd like to think that I have matured somewhat since those days. After all, I have recently replaced hot cocoa with hot coffee (and a delightful new guilty pleasure: a chocolate-strawberry-ice cream concoction at Shokolodnitsa, a coffee chain here) and I have plans to go snowboarding in the near future. But I must admit, I have given in to the temptation of a snowball fight a time or two here. It is nice to feel young again from time to time.

For the first time in a while, I have begun to feel a sense of inner peace. Perhaps it is my improvement in Russian. I can finally read Russian newspapers. I actually get most of my news from peeping over the shoulders of passengers on the Metro to catch a glimpse at the headlines. Although I don't understand every word, I can certainly read most articles with at least a fair amount of comprehension. My sense of comfort may also be the result of having a lot to do: classes in the morning, teaching in the evenings (at least twice a week), and plenty of extracurricular activities that often have me arriving back to the dorm past midnight. I haven't even had a whole lot of time to keep up with current events in America, but I have gathered that Tiger Woods has been having some marital issues. Another thing I have noticed is that my fondness of living in the city has been growing: the constant sense of anonymity, interrupted by meaningful moments of personal connection. The constant feeling of chaos interrupted by brief moments of personal bliss where everything suddenly becomes clear. It really has become addictive to me. However I suspect there may be other factors involved in my newly rediscovered happiness. They know who they are. Until next time!