Those of us who live on Pushkin Street share a building with a number of Tajiki families. (part of being a wealthier tajik is having a car. part of having a car is having a place to put it. which at our apartment translates to some creepy "rape dungeons" in the backyard. lovely and tasteful joke we make every morning... but that is off topic.) The family that lives right across from our apartment has provided me great joy by way of their slightly rebellious teenage daughter and her very proper looking russian boyfriend.
If I time it just right after class, I catch this cute girl and her russian boyfriend standing in the hallway - just outside of the vision range of her family's peep hole - speaking shyly, giggling and generally being adorable.
The other day our door was bolted (we have three locks... a good thing given that a creepy drunk man was tapping on our windows throughout the day) and it was taking my roomy a ridiculously long time to get them open. the cute couple and i shared a laugh. I felt like they had let me into their secret when he felt comfortable enough to lean in for a kiss in front of me. it made me feel fuzzy inside. as did the fact that he recognized me in the street and gave me a very respectable, upright-boy sort of nod.
Tajiki parents, I know my scandalous knee-length skirts make my opinion unreliable, but I approve.
on a slightly more personal note, this weekend's shivers, inability to keep food comfortably in my stomach, and general illness were probably heat stroke. which in tajiki literally translates to "sun struck." I wonder if i can say "love struck"...