September 25 - Day 8

Okay, I thought I knew pain. I thought I was prepared. I mean ballet class was intense and I could barely bend my legs this morning as I staggered to class but I had yet to meet Natasha, our “Movement” teacher. I say “movement” because at this point that is something I am no longer able to do. Her motto is ‘pain is pleasure’ and when she told us that we would be doing back-flips and running up walls I had a good feeling this wasn’t going to be your typical ‘let’s get in touch with our emotional core’ kind of movement class. I have never sweat so much in my life and as moans and groans emanated from our class she just said, “Why what’s wrong with you guys? Come on get up!” I am used to being sore and stiff the next day but by the time my Russian class was finished I could barely stand, let alone lift my arms. We worked on an exercise that consisted of us leaping over folding chairs which is apparently going to transition into doing summersaults and back-flips over them. We’ll see. At this point I am still having a difficult time believing her when she says she will have us all in full spits by the end of the term. Speaking of pain, part of our study here is a daily Russian class. I am trying my best but there is so much to absorb, I constantly feel like my brain is going to explode. One of my classmates, Mitch, a big guy who is easily 6 foot 7 and 200 + pounds said he felt like he was going to cry the entire class. They just want us to be able to function in the city, know how to order food, ask for directions, not look like complete tourists so they just keep throwing stuff at us, telling us to memorize now and understand later, which is so hard for me. I need to get it or my brain just won’t retain it. Thus getting around has been a little rough. For now I am inclined to just keep my eyes low and say ‘excuse me’, the only Russia phrase I can seem to remember, as much as possible. Oh and then there is Singing. Part of the training here is to take voice lessons. We work with a private voice instructor, who bares a striking resemblance to my grandmother and is just downright crazy. She reminds me of a female version of Santa Clause on crack. She is great but she can’t stop laughing except for when she is ranting in Russian at speeds which make translation a near impossibility. I was unaware that we needed to have an a cappella song prepared or that we would be singing in front of everyone. I used to love to sing but it has been a long, long time and I was completely petrified. I got up there and for some reason the only song I could thing to sing was ‘Daydream Believer.” I must have looked insane because I could sing it and was enjoying singing it, but I just could not look at the audience. It was the most intense stage fright I have had in I don’t know how long. I just kept wringing my hands, which for some reason made me think of my mother, which then just made me laugh. That was a poor choice because it made the crazy Russian grandma lady start this series of exercises with me as a demonstration to the class. She made me jump around and try to sound Chinese as I sang and then had me stomp out the song like some big ol’ Russian soldier. I felt like such a jack-ass. I got what she was doing, but man would I have preferred not to be the one up there singing at the top of my lungs with my face bright red from embarrassment! I have a feeling she must have got Natasha’s note that pain is really pleasure.