Wow, five hours of Russian class is tough. Every day is rife with new words and words that I learned the day before that for some reason I can’t remember learning. There are usually three stages to my four to five-hour Russian lessons: Tired enthusiasm which segues after about an hour and a half into bitter hopelessness and then finally into a last call type of mentality where I gather the last few words from the day and then close the doors to the ol’ bar of a brain. I probably shouldn’t be using alcohol metaphors it doesn’t do me any justice. This type of brain-overindulgence is very similar to the meals that my host mother prepares for me. She serves me up ungodly, colossal-sized piles of whatever it is she cooked (delicious by the way), amounts that I can’t seem to finish--ever. Notice the parallel. I get a full meal but a healthy amount seems to be left behind for me to come back to tomorrow. I guess that is a lesson for life: regardless of the things you leave behind, good or bad, you still have deal with them at some point down the road… In my case the next day in Russian class.
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