Life in Moscow is so much more different than life in Mytischi. Although Mytischi is a suburb of Moscow and the bustling metropolis is accesible by bus, train and subway, life in Mytischi is friendlier, cozier and...well....better.
I wrote a few posts about how I love Moscow but, like any big city, I love it from a distance. Now I friggin' hate it!
Today my alarm went off at 06:00 and I hit "snooze" for 30 minutes. Katya was in bed beside me and she, also, had to work at 9 am. We both struggled out of the incredibly-uncomfortable and low bed that I've been stuck with since I moved into this flat and went through a strange daily routine (brush teeth, splash water on face, coffee and a cigarette for me, tea and a pastry for Katya).
I threw on a pair of black trousers and a green button-up t-shirt that is suitable for work and the heat from this damned drought hit me immediately. Within a few moments of getting dressed, with my only physical exertions consisting of lifting my hand to my face, I was drenched through in sweat. Thankfully I have a strong anti-persperant and don't really smell to begin with (courtesy of a British-German heritage who are, by default, not smelly people). However, if I did have a gland problem I would probably be able to clear two or three seats on the metro in this kind of weather!
Katya was looking beautiful in a summery-country-girl white dress with red flowers on it which ended at her knees and billowed in a classical kinda way in the wind. We walked to the metro station, kissed each other goodbye and went to work, me heading one way and her another.
The classroom was like a furnace and my students and I, perhaps spurred on by each other's stubborness, endured the sweltering heat. After class my students, at a pre-intermediate level, invited me to join them in a little cafeteria in the same building as the school so I did and then made my way home.
It was when I was just kicking my shoes off that my mobile rang. It was the Central Office number on my screen, so I answered it. "Hello?" It's very strange for Central Office to be calling unless you're in trouble for something you may or may not have done.
Sure enough, I was in trouble. When they made me move from my near-palace to this shitty apartment in Moscow I found myself sharing a flat with a new roomy, Ira (because he's from north Ireland, and so is the IRA, so Ira...get it?) At first Ira and I seemed to get along fine. We even discovered that we were both living in Bundang, South Korea at the same time, only a few buildings apart from each other! I thought it strange that we never met, but today I learned why.
Apparently Ira is incredibly unhappy with the fact that he's sharing a flat with somebody, and even more pissed off that that somebody has his fiancee stay over a few nights a week. Like a little whining child, Ira had gone to Central Office and complained about Katya staying here sometimes, about me being here, and who knows what else. The phone call from Central Office was full-on bitching out.
They told me that I was to be "written up" for having a guest stay over, and that from now on I am allowed NO visitors. Also, on certain days and nights I cannot be here (in my own fucking apartment, which they FORCED me to move into, and where all my stuff is!). I was so shocked by this retarded phone call that I couldn't even answer. I hung up on the girl from Central Office and went looking for my little bitch of a roomate but, luckily for him, he wasn't home. I called Katya at told her that she was no longer able to stay with me.
Because we work such opposite schedules (that is, she works a normal schedule and I work a Language Link schedule) this new rule means that we can only see each other for four hours a week, on Sundays. Rather than talk to me like an adult Ira acted like a spoiled little bitch and if I could break his nose and get away with it I would, unfortunately I would be the first suspect so I just have to seethe in anger rather than resort to violence.
After my evening classes I joined a couple of other Central School teachers at a little kiosk in Novoslobodskaya and we drank beer, and I recounted this tale to them. A couple of them were shocked, a couple refused to believe me that such a person as Ira exists, and another one, a veteran of Language Link, simply said "Ya, that happens..."
Because I wasn't "allowed" to go home after work I instead got plastered with my colleagues, even though I have to teach in the morning (explain that: I have 9 am classes but I'm not allowed home now until 11 pm???!!!???). I came home VERY late, completely shit-faced (as I am now) and I am intentionally going to school in my sweaty clothes from the day before, hung over and maybe still drunk, and then if my students complain to me I will explain to them why, and then we'll see what happens.
Tomorrow I have a big break from 1 pm to 7 pm but because of my bitchy little Irish roomate I'm not allowed to go to my own place, because that is his "alone" time. I won't follow this rule, however, and I am going home and to hell with what happens.
After going to class dirty and hungover and then breaking a new rule Central Office has magically established, I may get fired, but this is a battle worth fighting. If I get fired and deported from Russia I will at least have done so knowing that I'm not the little whiny bitch. I'm the big drunk asshole.