Over the last weekend, I triumphantly assembled the new wardrobe that Natasha had bought in IKEA… Well, ok, ok, it was a really pathetic performance, comprised of 36 steps according to instruction manual, that took over 2 hours to complete. But I did raise my arms in triumph when it was finished…
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The weather is a bit overdue turning to the worse, but it’s catching up. On Saturday, several downpours alternated with bright sunlight, but the rain won. On Sunday, the rain continued to come and go. It is not really cold yet, but there were a couple of days during the week that I got thoroughly chilled while waiting a few minutes for a train in my leather jacket.
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No sooner I complained about not having a Russian store nearby that Natasha found one. It is in no way comparable to the ones we loved so much in the States, it does not have hot kitchen - and the owners actually do not speak Russian - but it is only a couple of miles away and it sells such essentials as шпроты and сайра.
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Taking a break from describing events of our life, I want to let a bit nostalgia in and recite some things that we so gotten used to in America that we never considered their importance. Without further ado, here are some things that we clearly took for granted in the great US of A.
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The weather on Natasha’s birthday was beautiful - a bit crisp and windy, but bright sunny skies. We did not want to miss an opportunity for a day out, so we decided to take a train to the city, visit a museum and then stroll around…
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Traffic is an unbelievable problem here. After having driven a car in France, Italy, Spain, Germany, I thought I was prepared for narrow roads, weird signs, roundabouts, and all other quirks of the Old World driving. True, very little of my vacation driving was within boundaries of major cities. Still, I had no idea that traffic could be that bad day in and day out.
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Never having to move out of a house, we never had to deal with so much stuff coming into a house…
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It’s only Thursday, but this week turns out to be way too exciting. I guess starting on a great note on Sunday (see Brighton) gave the week a push of sorts… Ok, ok, in England the week starts on Monday, but you know what I mean…
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What comes to mind when you hear the word Brighton? Restaurant Татьяна, matrones in fur coats walking to a grocery store, pensioners and kids mingling all over boardwalk, Russian мат… We beg to differ.
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Going strong! For the second weekend in a row, we, true to our purpose, explore the new environs. Can we keep it up? The kids must be having second thoughts, for sure… Watch this space!
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I remember that when I first came to America, I used to literally write at least one letter a day to many of my friends in Russia. After a while, that exercise became less and less important, I started to skip days, then weeks, and then - in probably 7 or 8 months - stopped writing altogether. There were many reasons for that, not least of which was the fact that once my life had become more or less routine, it was harder and harder to find topics for writing.
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