Today, I learned a sobering and unexpected fact; I don't speak Russian. Yes, it's true. To all of the people who have at some point (thought) that they heard me speaking decent Russian, you were probably high on something at the time. No, as of today, I don't speak Russian. Of course, the second the world made this clear to me was the second that every single Russian in the Russian Federation decided to stop me on the street. Perhaps it was the hopeless, dead-eyed look on my face that assured everyone of my long term residence in Petersburg. The surly muttering and aimless, half-assed hand waving on my part only brought the point home. Why is it that the day that my Russian-skills leave me is also the day that I become a good Russian? This is a cruel joke, Russia.
I really need a vacation...
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