Forum Hotel Tomsk

... Tomsk, another nice big town in Siberia. There is still a lot of snow there that starts to melt because of a shiny and nice weather (about 3-4 degrees). The town seems really lively and got a nice university that they dare to compare to Oxford (they call it the Oxford of Siberia. No offense, this is not as nice a our beloved Oxford).There are some horrible sovietic gray big square buildings on the main place, but other than that the the town is really enjoyable.

... thinking, I came up with my newest, revolutionariest revolutionary idea. "****, it's so damn revolutionary, it's completely ...

... lady said, "Eto - chto znachit?" (What does that mean?) We both laughed. During this and the next few days, though, my feelings towards Tomsk were dismal. Pavel hadn't been the first Tomskurvian whose friendship let me down. My trip to Siberia, an interesting place, had included some good and some bad things. Put them together, and what do you get? ... MODERN ODDYSEUS' TOP 5!!!, awoken from a year of hibernation. After so much sleep, it's ...

... I had my last, new December experience. Russians celebrate New Year's Eve like Americans and Europeans celebrate Christmas. "Merry New Year, readers!" They have unique traditions, though. A few Russians even wear costumes. Orange-skinned Tanya from the Xakasia region, my friend, wore a black skirt and dressed as a sexy punk. She cooked a lot of food, in her students' dorm room in the Medical University. Curly-haired Sasha, who has a chubby kid's face and ...

... around one another; like bunnies. We intertwined elbows, twirled around one another, exchanged partners as we twirled, and began anew. "Clap!" Our toes hit the floor. Quick, Russian music played. We also danced: a polka, in which we men danced with two women - one on each side - and were enclosed by the three sets of holding hands. We shuffle-stepped forward. (Polka is popular in my home state, Michigan, among families of Polish heritage. My mom ...

... in December. I met two teachers and two students from my school, in the dark morning, to await a marshrutka bus among the pink buildings of Lenina Street. Excluding the statistics-loving dork, our school was represented by: Yulya. This pleasant teacher could be said to be bowling-ball-shaped, only if she was a bit taller. She's blond. She's young; her cheeks are rosy when she laughs at wise humor; her ...

... I know that when I'm fully successful in my plans, I set off on my next endeavors with near invincibility. (At least, I begin them that way. Later on, who knows what happens.) And I'd planned to stay in Siberia until the New Year, to experience some of the Siberian winter. So, I'm staying. Thus far, December has brought some very pleasant experiences. On the first Wednesday of December, I met Olesa to go ice skating. Orange-haired Olesa, who co ...

... the belief that they and "all other humans" are separate, too. They feel ashamed of their shortcomings. They comfort their ego's by placing themselves above others on an imagined hierarchical system. Most Russians place the Orthodox Christian God at the top of the hierarchy, believing lazily that they and those above them will simply be brought to God eventually. In this life, they climb the hierarchy's steps by becoming: more powerful; smarter; more ...

... my head inside my coat's furry hood. The last time I had a coat with a furry hood on it, I was in high school, home in Michigan. One of my best friends, disappointed by the fact that he had a friend who had fur on his coat, beat me until he could rip off the fur and throw it in the trash. And I've never had a furry hood since - until coming to Siberia. How else does a Siberian winter affect ...

... and brown lodges of Kirova Street - are dull and unnoticeable. The esplanade's center is a walkway. Lantern-shaped lamps glow with a cleaner whiteness than the snow's. I, on a Friday night, walk between these lamps, on snow patted down by many feet. I walk beside empty benches. I walk between giant spruce trees and baby spruces wearing snow, on the esplanade's surrounding lawn. The Kirova night's most beautiful building calls me. I sit on a bench ...