Back in the USSR

Lame title, I know, but I'm working with very few hours of sleep here. So, I am back in Russia, Part Deux, from January to June of 2011. I decided to return to Russia after completing the Russian Studies Program in the autumn of last year, for multitudinous reasons. 

After a brutal battle with S7 airlines (including a cancelled flight, a night spent in the airline's hotel in the middle of a snowy forest, a fight with the check-in lady, and my next flight delayed), I arrived in Nizhniy Novgorod, the city in which I will be spending most of my time during the next 4 and a half months. I am going to be studying the Russian language, and have already had my first class, as well as my first private-catch up session outside of class with my teacher (as I am coming into the program late and I am behind the other students). My teacher, Ksenia, is maybe all of 5 feet tall, young, speaks very fast and is unbelievably patient. This morning she tutored me for 4 hours (straight), and has given me a lot to learn over the weekend, but she told me if I don't know what is going on in class, "nothing bad will happen." Well, that's a relief. I was a bit worried.

I'm hoping to tear myself away from my books for a while to wander around the town- Nizhniy looks nothing like when I left- everything is covered in 2 feet of snow! Apparently this city has received the most snow this year out of any place in Russia (you can check my facts, but I can show you how I can literally ski to the grocery store). Speaking of the grocery store, I now live in a dorm where I have to cook for myself. Good thing I brought approximately 6,000 vitamins (thanks, Mom!). I'm wondering how long it will take for me to get nauseous at the sight of bread and cheese, since this has been my staple for the past few days. But then I can always move on to instant soup... We have a fridge in our room, which, if anyone asks, we received from "a friend in the city," (Katie, my American roommate, had quite the ordeal with the Kommandant and the key lady), and the "kitchen" is next door- a tiled room with two ancient stoves and sinks, and a scrappy table between them. This means I actually can cook, if I want to. And, I've been told that the kitchen is the place to meet all the cool kids, which is a major draw. Pasta tonight, anyone?