A person does not live by only eating bread

For (person = Troy) and (bread = large pizza). But I've done it for the past three days in a row. On Thursday I griped to one of my classes that I was having a difficult time finding cheese I liked. The general consensus is that in Kaliningrad the choices for cheese are slim. Later that day somebody asked me if I had had pizza since arriving. I said that I hadn't. He recommended a place for me to eat at, but said that it was expensive - 500 rubles for a pizza. I thought about checking the place out - 500 rubles is only about $17 which is a little on the high side, but not unreasonable. But in America that $17 only represents about an hour of work. Here it represents closer to nine hours. I decided that store bought pizza wasn't worth that much to me. When I opened the fridge the next day and discovered my hunk of cheese was changing colors on me I decided the time was right for some homemade pizza. And again on Saturday I whipped up some pizza. Just finished my third, as a matter of fact. The main reason I did it was to get rid of the frozen pizza crusts I had purchased a few weeks ago as they were freezer burned and I didn't want them to go any further. Next time I get a hankering for pizza (which probably won't be for awhile) I will be making my own crust. It is amazing how much actually goes into a pizza. The amount of cheese is a little sickening in my opinion. For what it is worth I've figured out what to put on the pizza to make it luscious, and some things to avoid. My main discovery was a rather pricey sauce (about $1 for a jar). It has peppers and mushrooms in it already so adds quite a bit of flavor over the normal ketchupy tomato sauce available. If you ever get creative with your pizza, stay away from pickles, nutella, apricots, and pears. Carrots are good, however.

Right now I'm taking a break from cleaning the apartment. I've been at it all day and it is exhausting. I really wanted to reclaim my balcony area because laundry needs to be done and wet things need a place to drip. There is so much junk that I got from the center last week! Fortunately, fleas are not one of them. There are books all over my floor and desk right now. If I just sat in my room and read until I need to come back home, I'd probably finish everything. One doesn't come all the way to Russia to just set and read though. There is even a near mint condition Risk game. I guess this place isn't so primitive after all. In a way I wish that I didn't have all this junk. Sure it is nice to have more dishes than I'll ever use and a different set of sheets for each night of the week, but before getting it all, my apartment was trim, fit, and spiffy. And now I get this bloated feeling. Of course that could be my pizza(s) talking to me. A pleasant discovery was a Russian hymnal. As far as I can tell, church operates on the 'bring your own hymnal if you haven't learned all the words yet' policy. I definitely fall into that category.

Some other highlights of the weekend include walking to and from church (I used your scarf for the first time, Anastasia). The walk home was a bit depressing, but still good exercise. It was sunny until about two minutes after I started walking and then it began to rain. When I could see my apartment the sun resumed its shining. About a 45 minute hike. The afternoon meeting went well. I continued gathering ideas for my novel. It is nice to be able to point at somebody and ask for their life story. I learned how to become a very rich man - bet on sports. For only a 20 ruble deposit, I could wind up with $100 000. Or several broken appendages and a price on my head. The alternative isn't too scary, so we'll see what happens. The Bible part of discussion was great. I think for the first time people were pretty polarized on their opinions. In the evening I was planning on getting to bed early again (last Saturday it was about 8:30 when I sacked out), but figured I would just take a peak at the movie Chiff let me borrow. After only five minutes I was hooked, so connected the laptop to the tv and enjoyed Ночной Дозор - a vampire movie. Some movies are meant to be watched when it is dark outside. I tell myself that it would not have had the same affect on me had I watched it today. Oh well, what's done is done.

I believe it is time for me to cut my hair. If my memory isn't too far off, I think the last bush whacking I had was prior to the family vacation in late July. It doesn't seem possible, but that was already three months ago. Time does prance forward whether you've got ahold of the reins or not. I opted to not see My Fair Lady this weekend. Next weekend Don Juan is playing and that will give me a chance to check out the local music scene as well as enjoy a night at the opera. Also next Sunday, Том Хенкс in Терминал opens in local theatres. Maybe I should try that one again.

I don't feel any more motivated to put my place back in order now than I do when I started typing this, but it needs to be done today so I might as well get started. For those out there that know in what state I'm prone to keep my bed in will be glad to hear that I've made the bed and set it up into couch every day I've been here with two exceptions. They were both last week, but I'm hoping that isn't any indication of what is coming. If you haven't already received an email from me, prepare to do so within the next 72 hours. I'm changing to a new address and am finally finalizing everything.

Numbers

I've just finished the final installment of Штрафбат (schtrafbat), the series I've been watching on television. It has left me feeling like I did after leaving the movie theater when I saw Saving Private Ryan for the first time. I went with my girlfriend and her family. As we drove to the theater I wouldn't classify our mood as being jovial, but we were rather carefree - not at all prepared for the experience that awaited us inside. Carnage permeates the movie, but something that stuck with me was how it was just one story of countless others - full of life and what it means to be human. The immensity of that is impossible, I think, to convey in words.textshown It is like the plastic bag scene from American Beauty. Or seeing Phantom of the Opera for the first time. Or being at a DCI competition. Or reading To Kill A Mockingbird. Or talking with the man who discovered restriction enzymes. Or driving past the Robert Mangaliso Sobukwe garden. Or listening to the stars sing in the middle of nowhere. Where Saving Private Ryan is my recommendation for how the war in Europe may have looked from the American perspective, Штрафбат seems to be a realistic interpretation of the Russian side of the same story. The word штрафбат refers to a man who was in prison for either criminal acts or because he was on Stalin's black list. With a war raging and millions of able bodied men sitting in prison, it didn't make sense not to use them. These штрафбатs were placed way out on the front lines, a type of barrier between the advancing Germans and the 'proper' Red Army. Since I only caught the last half of the episodes, I'm not sure exactly how it started. Being that it is war, the end isn't too difficult to guess. The excellent cast of convicts is reduced to a pile of flesh. As the camera pans the remains, each man and his story come to mind. One question remains in my mind: Why? Without getting on any type of political soap box I would like to say that war has always and will always be an abominable thing. Scientific, economic, and artistic reformations it may spark, but the ends most certainly do not justify the means. I'll end this paragraph on a somber upbeat note, I give Штрафбат three thumbs up - two of mine and one from the dude laying in the remains of his uniform.

In other news, today is a day of many numbers. I'll try to rattle off a few. In one week it is my birthday: I will be 24 (that means I no longer qualify for my dad's medical insurance). Two weeks ago I was recuperating from a few small earthquakes and minor flooding due to Hurricane Washing Machine. In three weeks I'll have written one-tenth of a novel. A month ago I arrived in Kaliningrad knowing of one person, and not quite sure what I was in for. That is good enough.

My birthday. I don't think I've really looked forward to this yearly occurrence since I was much younger. Most years it seems to sneak up on me before I know it and I am usually able to be busy enough not to bother that much with it. I've never understood why people make such a big deal over the day they were born. Maybe this is one of the finer things I'll acquire as life deals me her blows - an appreciation for the simple pleasure of blowing out the ever increasing number of candles on the cake.

Hurricane Washing Machineroo. Honestly, I didn't have to recoup all that much. I think I stayed up late the night of and then slept in till noon or so. This was included because I needed something for two weeks, and an earthquake sounds exciting. The worst thing it did to me was give me problems going to sleep the other night when there was another 'earthquake watch' in affect.

NaNoWriMo. I was planning to devote an entire blog entry to this (I still might). My cousin sent me a link to his blog and after poking around a little, decided that the National Novel Writing Month event would be an excellent use of my time. The name of the particular institute slips my mind, but at one of the big art schools in New York City, incoming students are given a crash art task to help break down their natural defenses. They are given supplies and forced to draw constantly for 24 hours. The end result is impressive, or so I hear. Instead of second guessing and striving for perfection at the risk of creativity, the freshmen draw more freely - the brain doesn't interfere with the heart (as much). I'm hoping to achieve something similar through my first novel. The guidelines state that I must write 50 000 words (translation: about 175 pages) during the 30 days of November. To date, this blog contains roughly 15 000 words, so 50k isn't unimaginable, but it will take some doing for sure. My main gripe with these blog entries is that I overuse the word 'so,' and so I'm like ya' know hoping that like writing a novel will totally diminish like my so-usage. Getting 50k words under my belt can only help me as a blogger and in other future literary endeavors.

Kaliningrad. From the looks of things, I've acclimated to my new environment. Just a month after arriving I have got my apartment situated to my liking, know all my students names (tried to do that the first week), have a decent grasp on transportation around the city, and can live with the silence inherent with being a bachelor. Not bad. My main gripe is that I haven't made as much progress with the language as I thought I would. It is a little scary to realize that I've been here one month because that means there are under eleven left. Eleven months during which time I must become as close to bilingual as I'll probably ever get. The pressure is on.

A little note about the [+/-] button on the posts. The main page of the blog was rather long for my tastes. As of now, only the first new post will be displayed in its entirety. All the rest will show a paragraph and an expansion link to read more. I expect for there to be problems, so if it isn't too much of a hassle, I'd appreciate feedback as to what does and doesn't work. Just drop me an email or leave a comment on one of the posts stating what the problem is, what browser you are using, and what operating system you're running. Thanks for reading!

Раз борщ, два борщ, три борщ, пол

Translation: one [bowl of] borscht, two [bowls of] borscht, three [bowls of] borscht, floor. A little known fact is that borscht is a distant cousin of the world famous tequila. Feeling sprightly this morning as I popped out of bed at 6:30, which is a first for me on a work day, I glanced about at what there was to eat. Ahh, borscht. And look, the pot is almost empty: I must finish. Three (or was it four) bowls later I feel rather like a blimpish beet. Even with some Nussenia-laden bread to wash it down my gizzard (Nussenia is a German brand of Nutella), it was a lot of veggies. Now that I've had my meal for the day, time to go back to bed. I wish.

I've set some goals for myself this month. One of which is to only stay up past midnight two nights a week. There is nothing wrong with staying up super late, but for me that means I sleep in super long. And there is much to be done, so figured I'd be more productive having my extra hours in the morning than the night.

Last Sunday a dude from church by the name of Sasha took me to see an old building. It turned out to be an Orthodox church that survived the war pretty much intact. The steeple had been rebuilt, but other than that, it was the real deal. I believe it is a convent now. After hunting around for the head father dude and receiving our photo blessing, we were permitted to take pictures inside the church. I felt bad that Sasha had gone through the trouble of obtaining permission and then I didn't take many pictures. It was overcast outside, so the lighting was great out there. Inside the building, however, lighting was abysmal. Perhaps if I'd had my real camera with different lens options the story would have been different. Even then I think a tripod would have been necessary. I took a few pictures with the cheap on camera flash to make Sasha happy, but they look like pooh in my opinion. It was interesting though. Perhaps some day I can hoof it back there prepared with external flash and mini tripod. The pictures I took of the grounds should be posted, eventually.

As the evening services were starting we headed away. Milling around his car were two teenage girls, looking a bit off kilter. After some discussion with them (which I couldn't quite follow), we left. One of his friends had offered dinner, but that wasn't for another hour. What to do. The first element of any nice [Russian] ride is to get pulled over by the police. Fortunately, there were no problems with his documents and we kept on rolling. Stopped at the museum of the world's oceans, but we were too late to buy tickets. Walked until it started pouring. I wish that he didn't know so much English. Don't get me wrong, he speaks pretty horribly, but enough so that he wants to practice it. Which means I don't get much practice time myself.

At the friend's apartment we waited for dinner to reheat. What should it be but more borsht and some rice. Her name is also Sasha, so the Sashas asked me if I'd ever had borscht. Good question. They were rather surprised when I said that yes I'd had it before and that I actually made some the other night. In my bowl I found a bay leaf, something I'd been unable to locate in the stores (probably because I was looking for the wrong thing. After the meal I asked where I could purchase bay-leaves and what they might look like. To my surprise, she gave me a bag. Now the next time I feel like overdosing on borscht, it can be flavored by лавровые листов (something tells me I didn't do the plural of leaves correctly, any Russian wanna comment?).

I stopped by Nina and Slava's apartment on the way home to grab the extra dishes they were talking about. I had sorely misunderstood what they said when they said they had a 'few' dishes for me. If only I'd known earlier. Oh well, now I've got I'd say a place setting for ten or so people; numerous pots; a few pans (including a small one just the right size for eggs); a large carpet; and maybe 12 other boxes and bags full of books, bedding, and who knows what else. Oh yeah, they have fleas. Yesterday morning I opened the carpet in my little sunroom area to try and assess its worth - I don't believe I'll be keeping it as it looks like a floor mat from a car. I'm hoping to filter through all the stuff by the end of the week without inviting the fleas into my apartment. We'll see how that goes. I'd like to wash all the dishes now and put them away, but my kitchen sink has problems and water goes down for approximately 2.3 seconds before coming back up. Perhaps I should fix that first.

Life is continuing. Yesterday there was sun. That makes three days in a row that there has been sun for more than five minutes at a time. From the looks of things, today will not continue that pattern, but as the saying goes, "You can't have your borscht and eat it too."

Sun (солнце)

To my great surprise, the sun was out today. All week long I've had more than my share of rain, but no sun at all. I would say it was great to have a sunbeam hit me between the eyes, but I decided to stay up late last night, so it really wasn't all that great. When I stepped outside I expected warmer weather and was sadly mistaken. Rather crisp. On the topic of temperature: when I first arrived here under a month ago I slept with the windows open at night. Until the mosquitos discovered me. I do like a cool breeze sweeping over me as I slumber, so on my to do list was to get some screen to keep those pesky flies away. In a way I am quite pleased that I was 'too busy' to get that accomplished. The past two and a half weeks I have been cold in my apartment. A few days ago in class I asked how people kept warm. All responded that the heat usually gets turned on around October 15. So I've only got two more weeks left and then I'll be toasty, I hope.

I managed to stay awake and attentive for the first one and a half speakings-to at church this morning. About halfway through the main dude, I just couldn't focus on figuring out what he was talking about. The local church is gearing up for an evangelistic campaign. They rented a nicer space to hold meetings and got a projector. For the hymns this morning a nice nature video was playing in the background with a bouncing ball going over the words. As distracting as the ball was, the musical arrangements made the ball look yummy. Especially on the last song . Lovely keyboardy trumpets playing nice and loud, and at the very end the stupid keyboardist pressed a really high key and cranked the volume up. Needless to say I was only too happy to leave. None of the youth type peoples that I knew were there today either. Last Sabbath I found it interesting that the church poetess got up and recited a piece. I honestly probably only understood ten words of what she said, but it was quite beautiful - both the melodic phrase of words and the tiny old lady with a paper in her hands yet reciting from memory. I should make it a goal to talk to her when I have enough words and ask if I can read some of her works. Then make a nice little book for her or something like that. All churches should have a built in composer or poet to stand up at the end of each service and put forth their latest piece.

Returned to my apartment and had enough time to reheat my борщ, eat, and change. Today's English lesson went fine. I should spend more time thinking of how to discuss the Bible passages I choose. Preparing the handouts takes a long time (and I still had like 7 typos between last night and today's sheets), but having some questions to foster a discussion is necessary. After last night, my interpreter told me that she didn't think her services were needed. She has been at three of the past six meetings and it sounds like that ratio will go down even more. I know there are more things that I am not aware of with regard to the whole K-ELC situation, but I can understand how easily the flagship English Language Center could spiral downwards. I've taught for three weeks already. That equates to six classes with each of six groups of people, six religious themed discussions, six vocab lessons, six pronunciation lessons, and eighteen free talks. People have asked me how I was doing personally, but not offered any help with lessons, visited how I run class, or anything that common sense says a school should do to/for a new teacher. I'm okay with being handed the text book and being told 'teach this,' but what if I weren't? When looked at in that context, I have the ability to shut this school down in short order. I'm not planning on it, but something doesn't feel right about the whole situation.

I decided to hoof it back to my place after class and stop by some sites along the way. Rather by chance I took a cut through street to get to a big park I wanted to see. What should greet my eyes but a store for unlocking and russifying telephones. A few days ago some of the students told me about this place because it is the only store like it in Kaliningrad, but after trying unsuccessfully to give me directions, they said it was too hard to explain. And I found it with my eyes closed and one paw tied behind my back. First thing Monday morning, I'll be back there to break my phone for good. Hopefully they won't catch on that I'm American (and therefore rich) and jack the price up to a special-extra-low-markdown for me. If I pretend I'm dumb it might work. Nah, I'll go with the stupid approach. "Hello, sir. I'd, ummm, like to, ummm, lock your phone. No, I mean unlock my phone. And, uh, thanks for speaking slowly." Not obvious at all - I sound like a true Russian.

Кухня

I had planned on writing this entry several days ago, but suppose waiting till now was better. The reason being that I can no longer claim to count charcoal as one of my main food groups. Right now I have a pot of some chunky reddish stew on the stove waiting for consumption, and the test bowl I had was on the tasty side.

Tuesday morning was a slightly different story. I decided to try out one of my favorite dishes from home. My wise mother sent me some recipes and hoped that I could figure out how to not burn down my apartment. Anyhow, I tried my hand at a cottage cheese roast. I successfully mixed all the ingredients together and did a taste test of the resulting mess. It tasted almost the same as at home, so figured my troubles were over. Then I looked at the oven. It is gas, and I've never used a gas oven before. Fortunately, I did have the common sense to use a match and start it (did somebody mention burning apartment?). I did not notice a temperature on it, but there were two levels - high and low. Well, 350 degrees Fahrenheit is hot, right? In hindsight I should have remembered that ovens usually go up to somewhere around 550 or 600, making 350 a mild spring day. Maybe 15 minutes after putting my concoction in, I checked it out. Very crunchy looking. About this time I noticed a little thermometer at the base of the oven door and it was flat lined (if a thermometer can do that). I turned down the heat and left my roast to roast for another 15 minutes or so. When it came out it was colored. I decided to scoop some out - the top didn't look too bad. It was the bottom that was interesting. About a quarter inch of the kind of stuff those tablets you take to relieve constipation are made of. I fried up some carrots and sat down to 'enjoy' my meal. Actually I found that with ketchup and mayonnaise burned food tastes rather like french fries. Not bad for the first time with a gas stove, but definitely not good.

Even a simple man like me is not surprised to learn that the main ingredient in a cottage cheese loaf is cottage cheese. But I'm in Russia, the land of much sour cream and no cottage cheese. The closest thing to cottage cheese we've got over here is творог (tvorog), a kind of sweet curded dairy product typically eaten with everything from crackers and jam to the famous блины. As far as I can tell the substitution went well. But it stands to reason that if there isn't any cottage cheese, it can't be a called a cottage cheese loaf, can it? I am looking for names using the word творог and some other rhyming word. It would be nice if it made sense in Russian, but this is not necessary. The closest way to describe pronunciation in English is tvor (rhymes with the word your) - ugg (the sound made by the caveman as he drags the beautiful woman off to his cave to do the caveman thing). This is a call to all those who want to leave their own special mark in Russia - come up with a good name and then I can tell it to people when they eat my next well-done roast. I'm sure they'll be asking me how to make it and I can plug your name at that point.

Compare that culinary experience with the one I just had, and there are a lot of similarities. Except, this time it will taste good. About a week and a half ago I bought the smallest cabbage that I could find. It cost all of fifty cents and is not what I'd consider small, but it was all they had. Noticing that the outer leaves were starting to discolor, I figured I'd waited long enough for my girlfriend to send me a borscht recipe and figured I'd try it out on my own. The last (and only) time I helped in the preparation of this Russian staple was a little over three years ago. I was in Australia and it was very late Thursday night, or Friday morning more precisely. Konstantin Tomenko wanted to make some for the whole orchestra we were traveling with to try. So after a long day doing what I don't remember, I helped chop cabbage and beets. This evening I did the same thing, but looking back, the pot we used was really big - to feed 30 people. I put about the same amount into a much smaller pot - to feed 1 person. Oh well, I'll get my veggies. The only mildly interesting thing was that after I put the potatoes on to boil, I realized that I did not have a tool to shred my carrots and beet. A little prodding around in the former occupants stuff turned up a meat grinder. After hooking it up to my kitchen table, I put some veggies through it.

Tuesday evening when I returned home from work I flipped on the tv and found an excellent tv show - Штрафбат (rough translation). It is actually a series and this is the third week it has been on. Every evening for the rest of the week I watched it. Thursday in class one of my students said that she had just gotten the dvd, so I'm hoping I can borrow it and spend a weekend glued to the tube. I think it is extremely well made - the cinematographic angles and compositions are some of the best I've seen. It is much more movie like than tv like. Maybe it was a movie. I don't suppose it matters, but I'm learning Russian, right?

Here it is the end of the week, and there are still no more pictures up for your viewing pleasure. I'll see what I can do by Sunday. Now it is time for bed.