After I went shopping for books (La Prisonnaire for Eugene, Everything is Illuminated for me) and grabbed some food and two cups of ice cream on M street in chic, Cambridge-like Georgetown, John came back to the room. He's a very nice guy, easygoing, and sensible: immediately he said, "You want to grab a drink?" Ummmmmmm hell yes. We sat downstairs at the bar for about two hours while the Emmys played on the tv, which have never seemed so...important, or self-important. TV quality has really changed lately, largely thanks to HBO, but I don't really feel like I'm missing much, or will be. John and I spoke about Russia, his time there -- studying and working at the US embassy in Moscow -- and his current work as a computer technician. He's a real russophile, aiming to get into the foreign service since he left Russia five years ago. He's never been to Ulan Ude, but he's seen Irkutsk, and he said that when he stepped out of his sanitarium to to visit Lake Baikal on New Year's, his eyelashes turned white.
I've got lots of layers, but somehow I don't think I've packed warmly enough.