In the last two weeks surrounded by Russian, Tajik and the cyrillic alphabet, it has felt like I've been in a strange sounding whirlwind and slowly realized that some of the stuff being blown around is bits of paper. And that those bits of paper have words written on them. And then, this week, that a few of those bits are post-it notes that are actually sticking. The spoken words that are "sticking": names of people, roads, and places, yes, no, please, thank you, hi, goodbye, water, this, bon appetite, BBQ, and river platforms.
If all else fails, I use sign language or something latin based, like "professor" for the guards at the ministry who don't recognize me, and hope that the little French adopted into Russian won't fail me.
New alphabet + new language = tricky business.
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