Baby Steps
Last week was a good week. At the beginning I made a todo list. Out of my fourteen items I completed all of five. Not bad at all. Not good necessarily (one of the shirts mentioned back in December has not moved from my ironing board), but not bad either. One of the items was tax completion. Uncle Sam will be quite happy to receive my money two months earlier than usual I'm sure.
Last Wednesday saw my first private lesson with a five year old kid. It was rather interesting. As little as I know about teaching English, I know that much less about teaching English to a youngun. But we hit it off pretty well. And now I get to play with a kid two times every week.
Everybody has fears, right? Well I am happy to report that in some small way, I've started chipping away at a big one of mine. For some reason that I cannot explain, Russian post offices terrify me. Well not really that bad, but I strongly dislike my visits. (Everyday when I check my mailbox I secretly hope that nobody has sent me a package requiring me to go to the post office.)
Earlier this month I was perusing my list of birthdays and noticed two rapidly approaching - my mother and the mother of my girlfriend. I decided that it was about time to send the girlfriend's mother something. After all, she sent me a big care package for my birthday complete with handmade socks, a big jar of fresh honey (I even found a few bees still swimming....just kidding), and a bunch of candy. But that would mean a trip to my favorite place. And a trip where I actually have to speak. After procrastinating so long that there was no chance of a birthday card arriving, I thought I had gotten myself off the hook. Then somebody brought up the subject of telegrams in one of my classes. The hook was just reinserted into my left gill.
Great, so now what? Might as well face the ferocious postal workers from the Soviet era (actually they are all young attractive women). I wrote my text, had it proofed, and armed with a dictionary and my text, I entered the local post office. Kind of like a wave of stage fright creeps over an ill-prepared musician, I couldn't speak to the people. So I meandered about and pretended to read a few signs, then left. As I walked to the center's office to claim my monthly salary I decided that I was being silly. I stopped at the main post office on my way to school. The first person I asked told me I needed to go around the building to a different entrance. I did and there was an old lady coming up behind me. I held the door for her and she smiled and muttered something about the long lines inside. I approached the bench and grabbed a blank telegram. Then stood a comfortable viewing distance away from the held-door lady and looked over her shoulder at how she filled in her telegram.
Completing my form, I snapped a quick picture of it and joined the line. Amazingly, I survived with no broken bones and I even answered all the questions asked of me. Real letters will probably be more difficult, but at least I've got my foot in the post office door now.
The temperature rose last week, much to my disgruntlification. When the thermometer stays a safe distance below freezing, I don't need to worry about mud, water splashes from speeding cars, and other problems. A layer of ice isn't always great either, but given the alternative, it is delightful. With my best fake smile, I headed out to dodge the mudpuddles Friday morning. I arrived on time for my Russian lesson and when we finished there was enough time for tea. I was enroute to the office with my laptop so I asked if my teacher wanted to see some pictures of home. She did and I rattled on through my usual slideshow of family.
Last week over half of the students in the public schools were out sick, so doctors cancelled schools for two weeks. Just an epidemic of the flu. Fortunately, I escaped unscathed. I decided to whip up some beet salad to help ward off the heeby jeebies. After boiling my beets I had some fantastic red water and decided to save it for my next bout of borscht. This morning as I was cleaning the kitchen, I noticed that the lid wasn't on tight, so I screwed it down. Then a few hours later as I was having a lesson, I started hearing strange noises. My red beet nectar wanted to come out of the bottle. I am a little scared to put that stuff in my next soup, but will probably risk it.
Last Wednesday saw my first private lesson with a five year old kid. It was rather interesting. As little as I know about teaching English, I know that much less about teaching English to a youngun. But we hit it off pretty well. And now I get to play with a kid two times every week.
Everybody has fears, right? Well I am happy to report that in some small way, I've started chipping away at a big one of mine. For some reason that I cannot explain, Russian post offices terrify me. Well not really that bad, but I strongly dislike my visits. (Everyday when I check my mailbox I secretly hope that nobody has sent me a package requiring me to go to the post office.)
Earlier this month I was perusing my list of birthdays and noticed two rapidly approaching - my mother and the mother of my girlfriend. I decided that it was about time to send the girlfriend's mother something. After all, she sent me a big care package for my birthday complete with handmade socks, a big jar of fresh honey (I even found a few bees still swimming....just kidding), and a bunch of candy. But that would mean a trip to my favorite place. And a trip where I actually have to speak. After procrastinating so long that there was no chance of a birthday card arriving, I thought I had gotten myself off the hook. Then somebody brought up the subject of telegrams in one of my classes. The hook was just reinserted into my left gill.
Great, so now what? Might as well face the ferocious postal workers from the Soviet era (actually they are all young attractive women). I wrote my text, had it proofed, and armed with a dictionary and my text, I entered the local post office. Kind of like a wave of stage fright creeps over an ill-prepared musician, I couldn't speak to the people. So I meandered about and pretended to read a few signs, then left. As I walked to the center's office to claim my monthly salary I decided that I was being silly. I stopped at the main post office on my way to school. The first person I asked told me I needed to go around the building to a different entrance. I did and there was an old lady coming up behind me. I held the door for her and she smiled and muttered something about the long lines inside. I approached the bench and grabbed a blank telegram. Then stood a comfortable viewing distance away from the held-door lady and looked over her shoulder at how she filled in her telegram.
Completing my form, I snapped a quick picture of it and joined the line. Amazingly, I survived with no broken bones and I even answered all the questions asked of me. Real letters will probably be more difficult, but at least I've got my foot in the post office door now.
The temperature rose last week, much to my disgruntlification. When the thermometer stays a safe distance below freezing, I don't need to worry about mud, water splashes from speeding cars, and other problems. A layer of ice isn't always great either, but given the alternative, it is delightful. With my best fake smile, I headed out to dodge the mudpuddles Friday morning. I arrived on time for my Russian lesson and when we finished there was enough time for tea. I was enroute to the office with my laptop so I asked if my teacher wanted to see some pictures of home. She did and I rattled on through my usual slideshow of family.
Last week over half of the students in the public schools were out sick, so doctors cancelled schools for two weeks. Just an epidemic of the flu. Fortunately, I escaped unscathed. I decided to whip up some beet salad to help ward off the heeby jeebies. After boiling my beets I had some fantastic red water and decided to save it for my next bout of borscht. This morning as I was cleaning the kitchen, I noticed that the lid wasn't on tight, so I screwed it down. Then a few hours later as I was having a lesson, I started hearing strange noises. My red beet nectar wanted to come out of the bottle. I am a little scared to put that stuff in my next soup, but will probably risk it.
posted by Troy on 23:30
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