November 25 – Day 69 – Part 2

If Thursday’s Thanksgiving Day was the manifestation of everything exacerbating about the holiday season, then tonight was our moment to redeem ourselves and prove once again, the true meaning of the holiday season. Our schedule here is insane and if it wasn’t for the fact that there is no other option but to keep on going, I am not sure how I would do it. We plow through everyday barely stopping to take notice of our actions out of fear that we might not be ale to regain our momentum. It has been reiterated time and time again that Russia is a brutal place and if we are going to survive we must use any means necessary to keep up. It can make for an ugly existence at times and it was for that reason that this evening’s Thanksgiving potluck was approached by most with a heavy layer of dread. Too much planning, too many heated debated over irrelevant issues, too many Stalin-like commands which tend to turn otherwise enjoyable events into huge productions with lackluster results. Beyond that, after the Meyerhold, it didn’t seem like an appropriate time for celebrating. The party was supposed to start at 4 pm so it could end by six to give students enough time to rush to shows and rehearsal but at a quarter after five people were still scattered at museums, food had yet to be prepared and the dorm still displayed remnants of Saturday evening’s foyer into heathenism. We meandered around the hall way making haphazard preparations when, like the unpredictable Russian rainstorms, the dorm flooded with students and faculty supplied with their American-esque creations. It may have not been a traditionally authentic meal but it was definitely a family affair. Marianna, our resident Russian mama, stood amongst us in a fashion straight out of a Hollywood tear-jerker and made a toast to new friendships, new family and the opportunity to share this once and a lifetime experience together. We all cheered and hugged, and for a few minutes we forgot all our troubles, fears and life outside the warmth of the fifth floor hallway. I found Jenna in the crowd, who was hunched over her plate looking dismayed. When I asked her what was wrong she looked at me and sighed, “Just when I think I couldn’t possibly hate this place more, something like this happens.” I know it is cheesy but I don’t care – this place has made me believe in magic. It has made me remember beauty and the mind blowing power of simple human kindness.