15.12.09
A week ago my internet wasn't working. I tried to connect with my USB modem, but the system reported the very same error that had come up the first time I tried using the modem. I stopped by the shop where I'd bought it, and asked them to tell me how to fix the problem. They asked me if I had money on the account. I said yes. Then they said I needed to dial such and such number, wait fifteen minutes, then dial some other number. They had done this on the first day. It reneued something that for some reason wasn't working. After getting the phone numbers, I went home and tried them out. It didn't help.
Turns out, there wasn't any money on the account. I was over a hundred rubles in debt to my internet provider. Fortunately, I figured that out on my own, so I didn't have to go back to the shop with my computer to have them tell me how mistaken I was.
I paid my internet provider, MTC, five hundred rubles, and ever since they say that I have three hundred and fifty on the account (five hundred minus the debt). My credit is suspiciously not going down, even though I'm using the internet rather freely. I expect any day now that I'll get the same error message and discover that I'm a few hundred rubles in debt to MTC.

I was happy I had internet last week, since it allowed me to follow some Champions League matches online. I didn't watch anything live online, but I could follow commentary on several matches and see who scored when. At the same time, I was watching the champions of the premier league in Russia, Rubin, lose two to nothing to Inter Milan. Rubin takes third place in the group thanks to Barcelona, who on the same evening beat the fourth team by enough points to put them behind Rubin. I was very disappointed to observe Manchester United come back against Wolfsburg. Wolfsburg had tied up the match at one to one, but within the final minutes Michael Owen scored two goals, excluding Wolfsburg from further champions league play. The other team from that group to continue is ZSK. I blame myself for this unfortunate turn of events. I went to see A Christmas Carol on the night that Wolfsburg played their away match against ZSK in Moscow. They lost two to one, I think because I wasn't there to watch. Now I'll never get to see Wolfsburg play.

Things were as usual at the chess club two days ago, except I played well. I only had two victories out of ten, but that's twice as good as two out of twenty! In fact, there were at least two other games that I could have won, one of which I lost on time, the other I lost due to once again overseeing my opponent's only possible attack, which unfortunately happend to be full-blown mate. There's something about covering my tracks in chess that I can't seem to grasp. They say that if ever you gain material, you should then stabilize your position so as to not lose the new-found advantage. Sometimes I get carried away. I play full steam ahead, forgetting what I've so often seen, that patience is what wins the match.
With an odd number of players, there was a by round for each player. On mine, it so happened that Gilbert Godfrey and Stoneface were playing against each other. As I came to their table towards the end of the match, it seemed like Stoneface was winning, but pressed for time, he screwed up somehow and Gilbert got the upper hand. With seconds left, Stoneface raced his lonely king to the center of the board as Gilbert queened his last pawn and turned to attack. Hands raced from board to clock and back in a chess tango at presto tempo. Had Gilbert run out of time - he had only seconds left - Stoneface could've declared a draw, but he ended up resigning instead.
I didn't get a chance to play either of those players. I guess at the tempo tournaments, with fifteen minutes per side as opposed to five for blitz, the winners play the winners and the losers play the losers. It just occured to me, but probably that's why I played so well. My last opponent was a young man who gave himself somewhere between ten and fifteen minutes at the start. I pointed out that he hadn't set his clock properly, but he shrugged his shoulders, saying he had alloted plenty of time for another loss. He had had a bad day I guess.

I went for a walk today. I needed to buy some groceries. I also wanted to look for some souveniers to bring back to America. I found a few things which might make interesting presents, among them a ceramic dish with a cathedral on it. I didn't recognize the cathedral by name, but it sure looked familiar somehow. Had I seen such a cathedral in Rostov? I left the shop without buying anything and took an unknown street towards the central market, where I usually get my food.
It was cold enough that my hands were beginning to go numb, but I had enough layers on that the important body parts were comfortable, as long as I didn't stand still for too long.
As soon as I passed Voroshilovski Prospect, the street became a bit more familiar. I had reached the eastern border of the central market, where merchants were selling anything from mens' underwear to contemporary foreign literature. I stopped by one of the book stands and glanced at a few of the Russian classics they had, but I didn't buy anything. I continued down the street and finally reached a large cathedral with light-blue colored roofing supporting the characteristic golden domes which you see on many cathedrals in Russia. I crossed the street, went through a New Year's tree patch and viewed the cathedral from the front. I was standing closer than I should've been, but it was enough to recognize the building I had seen in the ceramic. I think it'll make a nice present because I can say that I have lived not a five-minutes walk away from that place.
I bought four heads of garlic, one and a half kilograms of onions, many apples, five persimmons, and a loaf of bread. I've started eating persimmons again. I use to eat them as a child, but since then I've never eaten them regularly. There's some sort of resin on them that leaves your mouth feeling like cotton. That takes some getting use to, but otherwise they're delicious.

7.12.09
I talked with mom yesterday. I told her I'd had a bad day at the chess club, and she replied that she thought every day at the chess club was a bad day for me. But it's clear to me now that I'm not looking for victory during the Sunday tournaments, otherwise I would've stopped going long ago. I'm happy if I lose on time with an advantage in material or position. That shows at least that I can play. Yesterday I didn't get so far in half of the twenty matches.
My first of two victories was against someone who wasn't having a very good day either. If fact, I played against him like most of the other players play against me. He made mistakes repeatedly, and I pounced every time. I went to Georgi Vasilitch to announce my victory, but, for it was my first victory after eight loses, expressed myself a little too loudly, not seeing my disgrunteled opponent behind me. He then told George that he'd had enough for the day, and took off, crestfallen. I felt bad for him. I know what he was feeling very well. He and I were like crippled horses at the races. I ran with three legs, while he tried to get on with only two. The other horses ran circles around us as we nostalgically remembered better days when it seemed like we knew what we were doing.
My last victory came surprisingly with my last match of the evening. I was well on my way to losing when my opponent made a serious blunder which cost him practically everything he had. He still might have beaten me on time, had he not given up in despair. Maybe he was just tired. It was the twentieth party of the day.
If only other players made such mistakes when they played me. Alas, I am most often the one who leaves pieces unguarded and oversees the simplest of traps. Sometimes I feel like I'm playing blindfolded, I make such stupid mistakes.
I was in a pretty bad mood yesterday, not so much from chess as from roudy teenagers causing me grief during discussion lessons the previous day. Chess was one thing that could've cheered me up, if only I'd managed to play a little more skillfully.
The linguist is one of the weaker players at the club. He and I warmed up before the tournament started. He wanted to show me his new super system which supposedly works every time. After hearing him say the name several times, I understood that he attributed the position to Capablanca. We played two or three matches. He beat me every time with his new technique. NevertheIess, I wasn't impressed. He usually beats me anyway. I asked him to let me know how he plays during the tournament. He didn't have an especially good day either. After each match he came up to me and jokingly blamed Capablanca for his hair-brained method, but stuck with it until the end.
He escorted me most of the way home. He likes speaking German. It's enough for him if it at least seems like you're listening. I often don't care to hear what he has to say. I think he knows this, but sees that I tolerate his rambling and rambles further.

Last week I went to a school in Aksai, a suburb of Rostov, and lead a discussion lesson for teenagers. Another Language Link teacher drove me there and left me with one of the full time teachers at the school. She and I had almost an hour to kill before the first of two lessons. We talked about why an American would do such a silly thing like come to Russia. When I agreed to have some tea, she left the room and came back fully loaded with crackers, chocolate and some English black tea. I'm surprised she didn't have cake on hand. Maybe she mistook me for a Brit. I would've been happy with just a glass of water, flavor it however you like.
I gave my war and peace lesson to the first group. That went fine. The second lesson was visited only by tennage girls who had never seen a real live American before. I felt like a celebrity as I answered random questions for fifty minutes. Then, since I didn't have the music, I read them "Imagine" out loud and asked them if such a world were possible or even desirable. They didn't have any good answers. I told them it was homework.