11.02.09

i am still in london. and there is problems getting my visa, because now they want a bank statement and i have none with me.

i know all my mother has to do is fax one over, but i feel like this is the last fire exit. i have gotten really sick, in fact, im sitting writing this in my coat and scarf. and of course hayley best is online, enthralling me with stories of international hotties, sunshine, and general happiness. and then i imagine hong kong and the first image that comes to mind is being in a roof top swimming pool as a helicopter flies by.

and everything in russia is grey and cold and filled with uncertainty and insecurity.

is that really what i choose? i keep trying to tell myself someone needs to, we cant all just live lives of oblivious luxury (after hearing a radio journalist describe how police were told not to investigate the daylight murder of a human rights lawyer and female journalist in moscow, i have come to the conclusion that russia is still a third world country), and i could never respect myself for choosing the easy way out... but why does it need to be so hard? why cant i have chosen to go to new zealand or portugal instead? i know that an extended period in any country isnt a holiday, but six months in malta or italy would have been a darn sight easier then russia. but i suppose harder in different ways.

i went to russia because it was mysterious, and alien, and unconquered, and i knew it would be difficult. because i seem to enjoy putting myself in situations that are really just beyond me, like when i signed up for that hellish week of hiking with an ex-marine and spent five days stumbling after three unhumanly fit boys that ate uphill miles like they were landrovers- while i struggled with sunstroke, dehydration and my completely unpractical army boots. gosh. i dont know what to do.

i dont know even if ill be able to get the visa at this point.