Crowds and context

It's been busy. I have been doing a lot of calling (Israel, Canada, Moldova, Ukraine, Russia, Germany etc. ) and also waiting a lot for calls back (regarding contacts for places to stay and volunteer). I've been buying lots of things (super compact towel, thermal underwear, airline tickets, souvenir bribes, jeans etc). Clearly this is all not very exciting for you fans.

Yesterday I visited the dreaded Russian Consulate. I will not say that I was not warned. All in all, my experience was not so bad. When I arrived there was a huge line down 91st street waiting to enter the consulate; apparently it was pension-pick-up day. Waiting in line were the ugliest, meanest, most bad-tempered old Russian people - those who are still citizens of Russia. They were packed up close like sardines, the ones at the very front with their noses touching the wood door at the grand entrance to the consulate. They were staring at the door, most refusing even to talk to eachother. (Incidently, the door to the consulate was fit for a palace - twice as big as a regular door in width and height, not at all fitting in with the modest upper-east side stone facade.) Thank God I speak Russian. I talked my way to the front of the line and about half the people supported this move, since I was clearly not waiting for my pension and just needed to find a way in. The other half decided to ignore the fact that I was not a pensioner and yelled about how I was let to the front while the crowd waited in line.

After about 10 minutes of waiting in this nasty crowd the palace door openned and people were let out of the building, but no one was let in. Though this was quite obvious, there was of course a mad pushing towards the door and I was smushed and forced to get quite cozy with the door. I decided I would push my way through the next time people were let out and I took the opportunity about 5 minutes later. Once inside I was free, since there was a separate room right next to the entrance for visa processing and they took my papers with no hassle (not looking closely at them at all). I didn't even have to wait in line , but I did have to wait for this wardon-like dude to come open the door before I could leave the building. In the meantime, I and the people surrounding me in the visa office, were accosted by a probably schizophrenic Russian lady who kept yelling about how no one was courteous enough to hold the door open for her. Keep in mind, there was no way someone was going to be holding doors here. This was more of a pushing, knocking, and moshing environment.

Also, New Years was amazing. I spent it with Matt and some friends at Jorian's (or his parents') beautiful apartment on Central Park South. We watched the fireworks and the midnight run from his balcony and laughed at the hoards of people crowded onto the street (those tourists, we guessed, who couldn't get through to Times Square). They were watching a big screen of Times Square set up on Central Park South. The police presence was ridiculous - some friends couldn't get up to the aparment and got stuck in the crowd.