Eleven year olds can be very hard to live with. Especially when they are named Vlad.
Vlad and my's relationship over the course of the last three and a half months has been anything but constant. We started out fine, testing the waters of a friendship that included an age gap of ten years as well as a considerable about of cultural differences. He helped me with my homework, I helped him with his (well, clearly only the English assignments) and we even played games every night after dinner. Life was good.
Then Vlad started getting a little too comfortable around me, and cuddling commenced. It started out with an abnormal amount of hugs and quickly progressed to full out cuddling, Vlad jumping into my bed at any chance he got. Now this was all very cute and fine, and probably as close to brotherly affection as I’ve ever had, but at the same time strange. Like I would tell my friends, it was hard to know where to draw the line between cute and creepy. So we were cuddle buddies, which was weird, but I could handle it.
But ever since Petersburg, something has changed. Yes, I know what you’re thinking, and it’s correct – Vlad is now in a continual state of PMS, which is possible in only a select group of Russian males. After Petersburg, and for no apparent reason, the cuddling completely stopped, hugs included (I’m not going to fight it, it was a welcomed change). But now new, unaffectionate Vlad has a new quest – to be the most irrational person in the entire world. Did I mention he also developed a Napoleon complex? (And I realize this is the second reference I have made to a Napoleon complex in my blog, but bear with me) He now seizes every opportunity to inform me about what I am doing wrong. When I try to talk in Russian, he tells me to just say it in English so he can understand. He yells at me whenever I do something that is clearly wrong- like turning on lights before eight o’clock at night, or turning off the TV using the switch that is actually on the TV, or placing my laptop near the family computer (because it is obviously common knowledge that it is bad to put computers too close to each other). And now that we have most of the mornings to ourselves, he has taken to teaching me how to do everything (like wash dishes and turn on the stove) because ‘Americans don’t know how to do anything.’ Clearly. And of course he uses his most annoyed, exasperated voice about 90% of the time he speaks to me. But then that other 10% he’s being nice, and telling me the score of last night’s hockey game or spinning coins on my desk while I do homework or showing me his latest magic trick. I can’t figure this kid out. Was I like this when I was 11? (If I was, please don’t answer this question.)
Good thing I’m leaving for Sochi tonight. Sochi, for those of you who haven’t been locked-up in a cold, icy tundra for the past three and a half months and therefore not in the know, is a city on the Black Sea with the second longest coast in the world (second only to the city of Los Angeles, and yes there is a technical word for it and, no, of course I don’t know it). There is a nasty rumor floating around that there will be palm trees, but I have my doubts about how good the weather will actually be, so keep your fingers crossed (we will, after all, still be in Russia). So after a 34-hour train ride there, a week enjoying the town, going on lots of hikes, maybe seeing the sun, and a 37-hour train ride back, I’ll only have about a week and a half left in Vladimir. Craaazy.
Send over your very warmest thoughts, we’ll need them.