You know what makes a four-room apartment feel even smaller? Getting sick. Yes, this weekend was just about as eventful as fly-fishing (no offense dad). After an excursion to a local historical museum (fun fact- did you know the Russians were cleaning their teeth over a century before the rest of Europe, and about ten centuries before England began) and mailing a stack of postcards (start the countdown!) I declined a trip to the local indoor market to begin my house arrest. It seems I even get a sinus infection in a place where most of the things I’m allergic to have died from the cold. Russia truly is a land of wonders.
The majority of the weekend was spent blowing my nose, drinking funny concoctions the family made me, being entertained by Vlad, and developing cabin fever. I spent some good quality time in this lovely hind-a-bed chair, with a pillow so soft I have to turn over every few minutes because my ear hurts. Have you ever heard that eating sweets and ice cream every five minutes will help you get better? Because my family swears on it. I have to admit I got luck with this family and sickness, as I’ve heard some pretty horrible stories from my friends. Most Russian families won’t let you bathe when you’re sick, and others will do nothing more than soak your feet in iodine (yes, feet in iodine). Perhaps the best sick story is from our resident director, who was forced to wrap his hurt knee in his own urine to reduce the swelling.
My illness did allow me to spend in inordinate amount of time with Vlad, who I now call my little brother  I’m not sure whether it’s the fact that I don’t remember being eleven well, or he’s just an extremely creative/insane young man. Do any of you remember pogs from maybe late elementary/early middle school? Well, Vlad has a few of the playing pieces, but no big metal piece to flip them. So instead, he just throws them on the ground and counts how many flip over. He can also do some magic tricks with them and the lid to my hair stuff, while singing a little chant. Our favorite after dinner game, a solid routine by now, consists of hitting a Styrofoam ball across the room (full of kind comments from Vlad such as, “In the air, please, Amy” and “Follow this trajectory, please”). This game, however, does not often end well. Usually we hit something fragile or his mother saves me by making him do homework. I guess that’s how it is, though, having a brother. Sometimes they’re amazing and funny and cute, and other times you just want to ring his little Russian neck. My friend was over today and Vlad was showing her his collection of legos and other toys, and she whispered to me, “And I thought my Russian brother was a nerd.”

pictures - my hide-a-bed CHAIR and vlad with his beloved legos