Russian System
I think I'll attempt to break my trek down into day-sized bites and provide intermittent commentary on whatever crosses my mind. All in all there were probably 4 travel days, 7 vacation days, and a big surprise waiting for me when I returned to Kaliningrad. Coupled with three-quarters of a gigabyte from my digital camera, I can safely say that my time was productive, if not always relaxing. As a matter of fact, my boss is sitting here next to me and just said that I still look like I'm on vacation. I can't vouch for the truth of that, but an enjoyable time had I. Enough meaningless blabber, on to the specifics.
False start. One more note regarding the pictures I took. If you click on the date, a page will open up with the pictures I took that day. If you just want to view the slideshow, click on May 6 and then press the 'View Slideshow' button.
2005 May 5, Thursday
A travel day. I seem to vaguely remember waking up early to blog my Polish excursion. Then I washed my stack of dirty dishes and ran out the door to catch my ride to the airport. Fortunately the driver was late, because I ran into traffic and didn't arrive at the meeting spot until nearly 10 minutes late. I don't remember the short plane ride because I was out, but was greeted by Anastasia and her mother in Moscow. The fun began as we ran to catch the bus to the metro. Forty minutes later I tried to enter the metro with the one pass card they had bought for me earlier that day. It didn't work. While waiting for the mother and daughter duo to convince the guard that the card should work, I stood in line to buy a new ticket. Thirteen rubles is worth more now than when I came to Russia, but still a drop in the bucket. When I got up to the counter, the lady decided she needed to do some paperwork. So I laid my money down and waited. After two minutes the lady looked up and reached for my money. At that very moment Anastasia's mom came and told me to take my money. I was quick and grabbed it before the ticket seller did. Evidently the person on duty was tired of listening to them and decided to let me pass. However, my head wasn't screwed on correctly and I tried to go through the stile without a ticket. It closed on me and set the alarm off. Great start.
Lady luck looked prettily on the three of us as we careened around Moscow safely. I just managed to meet the people that would take care of my passport and secure travel documents before they left for the day. Then, with enough time for a short bathroom break, we boarded a bus bound for Grandma's (or Babushka's, in Russian) residence in Murom. I was actually surprised. Except for a 20 minute period when Anastasia wanted to tell me something (and be sure that I understood it), we spoke Russian. Six hours or so and I was able to keep up a decent ramble. Scenery out the window wasn't spectacular, but there were an awful lot of Russian churches in the towns we passed through.
I think it was sometime around 11 in the evening when we arrived. I tried to help Anastasia's mom (Mama) set the little roller cart she used for her suitcase up but was quickly informed that it utilized the Russkaya systema (Russian system) and therefore I couldn't understand it. Deciding not to argue, I let the real Russians fiddle with their suitcase and we walked to Babushka's apartment. Mama's sister Tanya lives with Babushka, and she just happened to be looking out the window as we came walking toward their apartment and came down to let us in.
Meet the folks. After a long day of travel, I don't suppose my defenses were quite prepared, but evidently I passed the first round of inspection. I don't remember much of the details except for one thing. When it was time to take a shower Aunt Tanya told me not to turn off the water in the bathroom but to let it run continually. To make sure I got the picture, my personal translator/girlfriend told me in English, with an added description - Russkaya systema.
2005 May 6, Friday
Two room apartment for four women and one dude. Who gets what? Well, as the guest of honor, I got my own room. Of course that meant that the three young chicks had to share a room and Babushka got stuck in the kitchen. A nice advantage is that with a door on my room I could pretend to sleep in, although I'm not sure that 8 o'clock counts as sleeping in.
Russian breakfast completed, what to do? Oooh, time to walk around Murom. I was actually pretty excited about that idea so Anastasia and I set out. We walked to the main park and down to the Oka river, which is quite large this time of year. Then at her insistence, we went for a bumper car ride. Not bad, not bad. The only two non-seatbelted drivers were the two of us. I was getting pretty good at pulling wheelies when our time was up and we had to leave. Back in the day when AZ was az, some friend of the family sold tickets for that event and she was able to ride forever for free.
Continuing on our excursion of Murom, we visited the market. Smaller than I expected, it was fairly well organized and held a small fillip for us. A white cat was meandering about and shot me a quick glance - one eye blue and the other one yellowish. Weird!
Lunch was probably something good, but I don't remember. Later that afternoon I think we called AZ's sister at home and told her when we would be coming. After the phone hung up I put two and two together and realized that without a passport I wouldn't be able to fly, oops.
Another walk and a missed photo opportunity. We were wandering aimlessly toward the other side of town when I looked to the right and was awestruck by what I saw. A lovely wooden house with windows. Except instead of the windows being straight (like this |) they were crooked (like this /). I whipped out my camera and got the perfect shot lined up when the battery died. As I was replacing it, the owner of the house returned and stood at the doorway. Not wanting to get myself in too much trouble, I didn't take his photo. Unfortunately, I forgot to come back and preserve that spectacle for my future entertainment. Yet again, my girlfriend aptly explained it to me - Russkaya systema.
When we were about to come home, Anastasia suggested that we go into one of the monastery courtyards and look around. Normally I don't consider myself such a stickler for the rules, but decided to play Sergeant Mean and asked her if she had a shawl to cover her head with. She replied that she didn't have one, and I refused to enter the monastery with her. A small squall ensued, but it appears that my doggedness fit the situation. When we met up back at the ranch, Aunt Tanya informed us that recently it was announced on the radio that no women were to enter a monastery without their head covered or wearing pants.
Time to shower again and I witnessed the procedure and the reason why the bathroom spigot must stay on. Hot water comes from the gas powered hot water heater in the kitchen. If the water is turned off, the fire does not necessarily go off with it and problems ensue. Yet again we have further evidence of a (drum-roll please) Russkaya systema. (Note: I never quite figured out how to fire up the heater which I know is shameful to admit for a former plumber's assistant. Yet, when you find yourself the head lion of your very own pride, part of the wonder of life is just watching people do stuff for you.)
2005 May 7, Saturday
Growing up, when my family went for our yearly vacation we didn't attend church as a rule. I don't view this as necessarily good or bad, it is just a family tradition. As a vacationing man, it seemed slightly strange for me to 'waste' a good day in a strange church with strange people speaking a strange language. As a guest, I went.
Lunch was great and before long everybody except for Babushka headed to the final resting place of Grandad. I forgot about my position at the top of the food chain and stupidly assumed that there would be something I could do to help clean up the plot. We arrived and the two experienced women set to work while us two younguns were advised to explore the cemetery. There is only so much exploring that one can do, so before long we explored our way right out of the cemetery.
Saying hello and goodbye to some of the people at the church came next. Instead of watching a riveting film on the life of Martin Luther, we opted to head back to the river. Our wanderings eventually led us to a secluded spot near a monastery. Really beautiful reflection in the run off water from the Oka. A small cliff next to the church cried out for exploring. Two steps down I noticed something unusual. Looking a bit closer I noticed a big pile of bones. Bones! Right beneath an old Russian church. It appears that the cliff eroded over time as cliffs are prone to do. The part of the earth keeping these particular bones out of public view for who knows how long finally gave way exposing some long dead Russian Saint. What could I possibly do but snap a shot.
What is this? A whole day without evidence of the incomprehensible Russkaya systema? Now that just wouldn't be right. As I sat drinking some tea with my subservient elders I noticed something and finally fumbled it out in Russian. The burner on the range where the tea kettle had been heated was still going full blast but the kettle was set on a cold burner. The explanation was simple enough - I was in Russia, the land of inexhaustible resources. There is plenty of gas to go around. But, Aunt Tanya continued quickly, they were practicing conservation by saving matches. My commentator leaned over and whispered into my ear with a smile, "Russkaya system!" Finally it was starting to sink in that her statement of my inability to fathom the great Russian system was spot on.
2005 May 8, Sunday
Me and my big mouth...I had mentioned that it would be cool to attend a Russian Orthodox service sometime while I was in Murom. So when I woke up at the ripe hour of 7:30 I was informed that we would be leaving in 20 minutes. The logical choice: the nearby female monastery. Now the obvious reason is that there are females (even if they are nuns), but apparently there is more. I only partially understood the legend behind the two sarcophaguses in the main hall when it was explained to me. This translates into I really don't remember anything now. But I saw them - a man and a woman nicely mummified in the front right section of the church. I think I was bad; I whipped out my little voice recorder and caught some of the music. There were maybe 7 or 8 woman in a circle to the left side singing and the main male deacon dude had an amazing voice. Coupled with his half-opened eyes, he epitomized the stereotype I carry of an Orthodox officiator.
Part of big troy's bedtime routine thus far had been a Russian fairy tale from the book that has served two generations (and counting). After having traipsed all over Murom, I decided to take a rest and read. Apparently my soothing voice was just so enthusiastic that my audience fell fast asleep. Her sister called soon and naptime for Little AZ was finished.
What to do? Must be about time for another walk. This time we attempted to go to a museum. Just as we knocked on the door, the curator came out and said she had just engaged the alarm, could we come back on Wednesday? Sure, why not. Oh yeah, we leave on Wednesday morning. No problem then, see you in a few years...
There is a rather large cliff (the same one from the bones) that goes down to the river and kind of cuts the town into two parts. We used one of the pedestrian bridges to get to the other side. The nature was rather lovely, Russian style (trees, long grass, and 17 tons of garbage). We could see Babushka's house from where we were and decided to cross a different bridge on the return trip. This turned out to be a wild goose chase. Every time the bridge appeared to be within walking distance another ravine popped up in front of us. Finally finding the correct way, a series of fences blocked our escape. I never leave home without my souvenir from the year I spent in the pen - industrial grade barbed wire fence snippers. As luck would have it Russia prefers wooden fences thereby rendering my tool useless. Finally we escaped the labyrinth mostly unscathed.
Friday evening as the two of us were out walking about we bumped into a friend of Mama Zorina's and told her to call sometime in the next few days. She chose this evening to do so. And for the second time of who knows how many I listened to Mama recount her American adventures as she showed off the photos they took and then all of the souvenirs - from the panoramic prints of New York City down to the straw she swiped from some restaurant. It was great to be back in the 'kid role' again, even if only for a few minutes. After awhile the grownups asked if we wouldn't like to go for a walk or something. To be more precise, Babushka told Anastasia to go walk me because I was fidgeting.
The evening constitutional found us back at the park and we tried the ferris wheel. The view was pretty nice up in the air, but about half way around Anastasia informed me that we would only have one revolution. If the wheel had been full I don't think I would have complained, but it really wasn't. I still didn't complain, but it seemed like a rather large gip until I remembered my new term for the trip: Russkaya systema.
2005 May 9, Monday
May 9, the Day of the Great Victory that marked an end to the Second World War. Since I arrived in Russia 9 months ago I thought I'd be in Kaliningrad to celebrate. My time in Murom was much better than would've been possible for me in Kaliningrad, I think. The day began much like any other with a humongous breakfast, face wash, etc. Then I joined the others around the TV and we watched the pre-parade festivities. Once again I was reminded of how short President Putin really is. He always looks so tall, but there is usually nothing to reference his height against. I was mildly scared for a moment or two when I saw my President G-Dubya behind the wheel of an antique Russian car with Putin riding shotgun. A real military parade in all its glory. I would've been perfectly happy to sit and continue watching the festivities in Moscow, but my lovely stopwatch grabbed me by the ear and we hurried to see Murom's parade.
Since we were late we missed all the mumbo jumbo preceding the parade, which is just as well I suppose. About five minutes after we lumbered up, the ranks moved out. The route went from one of the main squares in the center of town to a large WWII Memorial in a cemetery nearby. Since Murom is a bustling metropolis on the scale of Moscow, we had the same number of soldiers and veterans present....not. Leading the parade were a few military jeeps and about 35 young soldiers. After that came the drummer girls, band, and many groups bearing flowers. The groups ranged from individual people with small bouquets to organizations and schools bringing large floral displays. At the tail of the parade rode three mounted police. Instead of following the exact path that everybody took we thought we'd head them off and cut through the cemetery to the monument. We were not the only ones who had this bright idea and the place was pretty packed. For me it was interesting to just watch all the people. A part of me wished I had a real camera so I could get better pictures, but I made due with what I had available (and didn't have the added hassle of another bulky bag).
About eight years ago Anastasia's parents came into some money and purchased an apartment in Murom. Usually it is rented out, but presently is vacant and we made a trek to the other side of town to have a look. The area was really quiet and appeared to be pretty safe although there were railroad tracks pretty close to the house. Getting in proved to be an exercise in patience. At first the keys baffled my girlfriend and then I had a whirl trying to figure which way was the magic way to make the door open. Just as I was ready to call it quits the door opened. Inside there really wasn't any furniture to speak of - a stool in the kitchen and an old folded up baby crib. Two rooms, one big and one small. Solidly built but could definitely use some sprucing up. After having a peek at the place and testing the toilet, we vacated. The closest thing to a landmark is a telephone that, from the looks of it, hasn't been in service since right around the end of the war. Feeling a tad hungry after a hard days work at the parade and apartment (and figuring we were more than a little late for the special meal), we headed home. The timing worked out just about right as it started to rain just as our bus came near.
If normally I was only 120% full following mealtime I was at least 175% full after the 'Victory Meal'. Dessert only got a few nibbles from everyone and was saved for later consumption. Performing my sole act of domestic violence (drying the dishes) came next. I think that if I had tried to wash them, we would have had the makings of World War III, so I settled for drying with a wet towel. Since 60 years have passed, there were 60 war themed movies on the tube. We all vegged out and watched a fairly violent recent film that culminates in the main actors going up in a fiery inferno. I finally learned the Russian word for star thanks to the movie. I always forgot it, but it was part of a radio handle and was repeated maybe 40 times during the course of two hours.
Salute! I wasn't actually all that certain what it meant, but at 10 pm it was happening, so we all, except for Grandma, went to watch. Now I know what salute means too - fireworks. And true to the Russia I've experienced, it had a flavoring of the implicit Russkaya system. I truly did enjoy the fireworks, but similar to back at New Year, some were a little on the close side (though that may be my father's lawyer jeans being worn an ocean away). The thing that I loved was how much of a reaction the fireworks got from the crowd. Every little explosion got an even bigger response from the eager, inebriated observers.
2005 May 10, Tuesday
First thing in the morning and what do I want? That's right...breakfast! But since we had such a large meal at 5 pm the day before my trustee steed and I were not fed until 12:45. The real reason was that we had to run to the train station and buy tickets before they sold out. Well we arrived, but nobody knew if there were still tickets available. We would have needed to wait for an hour and a half to discover if there were even any seats. To my reckoning it didn't make sense to waste an hour and a half to save 45 minutes the next day. On to the bus station. Russkaya systema was in full swing there. The ticket seller for our tickets had just closed for an hour break, and while her colleague at the next window wasn't doing anything, we had to wait for the woman to finish lunch. Joining the line, we waited. Finally getting tickets for 6:30 the next morning, my noble steed and I returned from the hunt having found success in a round about sort of way.
I seem to remember a good portion of the day having the roles reversed (I became the steed) as we went shopping. I guess I'm a pansy, but sometimes shopping just isn't my piece of cake. Sometimes it is, but this was not one of the times. I did survive and returned to hear the America routine again with another group of friends. Yet again us energetic youth were sent off to wander the town. One last sweep around the old haunts to tide her for a few years. At Anastasia's insistence, we bought sunflower seeds. Up until now she has not actively partook in the Russkaya systemas. When I eat sunflower seeds, I find it way too much work for way too little reward to take the shells off. The Trojan system is to take a handful of sunflower seeds and deposit them in your mouth. This worked fine until she noticed what I was doing. After appealing to my sense of sanitaryness and scolding me, she finally refused to give me any seeds unless I ate them the correct way. I tried a handful her way and it took me two blocks. Let's compare Trojan to Russkaya: two steps, two blocks. Need I say anything more? Perhaps yes. At first AZ thought she was educating me about the Russian way. Once I caught on I saw that she too used some Russianisms in her daily life (if you consider eating sunflower seeds to be a daily occurrence). Moral of the story, education is not always beneficial to the educator or the educated. Or perhaps, sunflower seeds provide for excellent relationship building. More probable, Troy is just an enigma and his way of doing things is more than likely not the way of normal folk.
This fine day concluded with some women sitting around the dining table and me poking my head in the room. Big ears always get a man in trouble, this time included. Babushka was building up to her boy + girl = fill-in-the-blank culmination when I decided to sit down. Again I scored a survivation mark, but not more.
2005 May 11, Wednesday
Six days remaining and more than three of them travel days. Ahhh. At least this one started fine with me waking up somewhere around 4:30. It was already light outside so I thought that perhaps we had slept in accidentally. I made a little too much noise and Babushka hurried from her place in the kitchen to the other room to wake up those lazy women and tell them that Troy was already up, dressed, shaved, and ready to leave. Sorry about that, women. We all gathered together and sat for a few seconds before departing.
This bus was like the first one except the bus driver kept stopping to pick up extra passengers. These undocumented travelers provided extra money for his pocket, but slowed our trip down. At one point the bus was filled with people in the aisle and everything. In a normal city transport bus this is usual, but for somebody to stand for 2 hours at a time seemed a little strange for me. Into Moscow, jiggidy jig. No, my travel documents were not good enough for flying on a plane. Okay, lets take a 20+ hour bus ride. Tickets bought and baggage stowed, the three of us had three hours to kill.
Somebody had the great idea to walk around and do the first thing that caught our eye. Well it wasn't my eye that was caught, but I went along - a four floor mall! Much better than yesterday I must admit. Most of the time we were looking for shoes. Correction: they were looking for shoes and I was carrying the food. My recommendation received Mama's approval, but I think AZ gave them the nix before she tried them on - a pair of (I don't know the proper name, so pardon the vulgar nickname) hooker boots. My reason for suggesting them had to do with the style of the heel. Apparently it is in fashion now. One of my students purchased a pair of boots and I jokingly gave her a really hard time over it. Eventually, the style grew on me and I felt that it would only be fitting for Anastasia to at least try them on.
Finished our fruitless shoe shopping spree, bought ice cream, pottied ourselves, and then boarded the bus. I thought I'd be nice and let the mother and daughter sit together. True, I was able to read some things that I wanted to, but the real reason was that I had hogged her daughter for nearly a week and I thought that maybe the mom wanted her back for a few hours. This bus ride was something else, let me tell you. Without going into too many embarrassing specifics some food didn't settle right with the women (Babushka and Aunt inclusive, as we found out later). Why I don't know, but your Trojan hero escaped unscathed.
Sometime around 10:30 we had a brief pit stop and I reclaimed my seatmate. Wanting to be available as needed, my sleep was small and light.
2005 May 12, Thursday
A beautiful day after a not so beautiful night. The bus continued on through pretty nice country with a pretty nice sun overhead. Sun and little ventilation makes for an unpleasant ride. After a loooooooooooooong time we landed. Hailed a cab to take us to the suburb where home is. Before the taxi man had our suitcases out of the back, Sister Sonya bounded out the window (she probably used the door, but I didn't see) and welcomed everybody home.
Minor living rearrangements to make room for me and then a fabulous dinner. I can't remember all of the ingredients, but I remember that it was quick and easy and tasty and had raisins with potatoes - yummy! Mama yelled at Sonya about the state of the bathroom (something I can relate to only too well the first time Anastasia was a guest at my place), but said that most everything else passed inspection.
Dinner finished and the three of us headed to the family dog's resting place and a nearby lake. The picture attack began when we reached home. After an album or so Sonya broke out her movie camera and began recounting her time in England last summer. I was surprised at how young she looked in movies that weren't even a year old. It must be the effect England has on her because even the mass transit sold her children's tickets.
If I were looking for Russkaya systemas today, what would I say? Possibly the hatch on the bus that didn't open adding to the lack of comfort. Or possibly the shower less a curtain.
2005 May 13, Friday
Today opened with a Russian cat. There are four of them that call the Zorina flat home. Rather early one of them decided that I'd slept enough and opened the door into my room and started meowing loudly. I opened the window and soon he was gone. Cats that can open doors? Wait, I remember....Russkaya systema.
Routines completed, Anastasia took me by the hand and led me to the bus stop for a day of non-stop action. It was called meet my teachers, friends, and old haunts. The first stop was her school. I listened as she talked to a few former teachers, most of who remembered her. Then I got to speak. She really liked her English teacher and arranged for me to yak at some poor unsuspecting Russian students. This I did with great pleasure and before I realized it I was getting the kill signal from my boss at the back of the class. Next stop, classmate and friend Zhenya. We had a spot of tea and watched as a little girl practiced her ice skating routine on the rink in the middle of the mall. Zhenya was late to teach some people, so we parted ways. For the next half hour I went trigger happy and captured AZ with many different flowers and trees. Time for another school methinks. In the market my cellist bought some roses and we went to her second music school. The lady she wanted to give the roses to was rehearsing a trio so we sat and listened for a while. Present delivered and life caught up on, more walking. Then the first music school and a phone call to the teacher who had already left the building. The flowers we bought this time weren't of the same caliber. The three roses for Teacher One cost something like 150 rubles while the bouquet of flowers for Teacher Two was 7 rubles and 50 kopeks. Common sense says that when you pay one-twentieth the cost, the quality may be a bit different, and different it was. Turn it upside down, shake it all around, and half the flowers were gone. Oh well, it provided much more entertainment value for me!
On the way home again after a long day. My sense of direction being what it is, I haven't a clue where we went in Stavropol, but I met some nice people and discovered what the places looked like where Anastasia spent most of her teenage years. Back at home I exchanged sisters and sat a long spell with Sonya talking about nothing and everything. Definitely an all around cool gal. I think prior to meeting her a day before I had spoken with her twice on the telephone for a total of about five minutes so all my impressions of her were based on what her sister told me. I suppose I wasn't shocked at what the real Sonya is like, yet still all other forms of communication don't hold a candle to face-to-face communication. At the risk of going off the deep end, I could say my prior view of her was like looking at a cool star through a telescope - fascinating, but only a speck way off in the distance. And now that I got to meet and talk with the star her brilliance is a lot more real and infusing. Finally, sister one succeeded in stealing me back and we leafed through another album or two before beddy-bye time.
2005 May 14, Saturday
I don't suppose it is possible for clothes to take on the attributes of their surroundings, but my pants did. Before leaving America I bought a top of the line pair of khakis that are (or were) water resistant, stain resistant, wrinkle resistant,... the works. Sure no wrinkles and easily removed stains are nice, but water that beads up and rolls off nice dress pants?! That is something to be proud of. This feature has worked like a charm in moderate to heavy drizzle in my traipsing around Kaliningrad's perpetual rainy weather. But what is the essence of the Russkaya systema? Not understandable by a person in a rational frame of mind. On the way to church, my pants leaked. At first it was just a little moist on my thighs and then the deluge penetrated my formerly fine fabric and my legs were soaked.
After the service a friend invited us to his house for lunch. Finally I got to be a little useful and helped make a salad. The food was great and the conversation was decent (even if it was mainly in English). An almost six year old girl commandeered the computer and began describing in detail all of the pictures of a house-in-progress to me. I believe that if I can ever understand what she was telling me about those pictures, I'll be fluent in this language. A brief tour of scenic Stavropol was in order before boarding the bus back to the Zorina dwelling place.
Yes, finally the motherlode of photos was unearthed and I leafed through album after album after album after album after... I really do like looking at pictures but am just a tad disappointed that they needed to be crowded into such a small amount of time.
Before I knew it it was late again. But time still remained for Mama's version of Babushka's talk. This was the main time of the whole trip that I utilized my translator. I spoke in English and what I said made its way via Sis #1 or Sis #2 back to Mama. Part of me wished that I had my voice recorder in my pocket so I could stealthily preserve that four-way interaction for posterity, but it is probably best that it was in the other room. Although I'm sure it would have been insightful and instructive later on, the nebulous thing we call memory is a better preserver of life than some measly 0s and 1s.
2005 May 15, Sunday
I think it was a cat that played with my door signaling the time had come to get up. Packed, breakfasted, and teeth cleaned, I said my goodbyes to Mama and boarded the bus to town with the dynamic dueling sisters. We were some of the first people at my bus and loaded the foodstuffs and luggage before enjoying some early Stavropolian rays. Seeing that I still had a large chunk of available memory on my camera, I thought to make a movie. In traditional Troyjan style I interviewed both sisters individually (in English) and then asked them to say something in Russian. Acting on the Russian impulse to always sing, they broke into song. I didn't understand exactly what the song was about until a few days ago in a free talk session. My favorite Russian Grandma that lives in Kaliningrad recognized the song and explained it to me. A young bride is standing at the altar preparing to marry a rich old man and is lamenting her plight. When your girlfriend picks a happy song of this depth to sing to you as you go away, it makes you wonder just a little bit.
I read, watched movies, and looked out the window as my bus rolled merrily back to Moscow. Thankfully, my temperature was gone (oops forgot to mention I'd been running a low-grade fever for the prior two days) and the air conditioning worked.
2005 May 16, Monday
In Moscow I had only a few hours to retrieve my passport and get to the airport. The bus made excellent time and I was confident I would catch the plane. When I arrived to pick up my passport a small surprise was waiting for me - transportation to the airport. I was able to find a bathroom with a toilet, shave, and check my email before leaving. The flight was uneventful and as I boarded my taxi bound for the city I couldn't help but notice how green everything had gotten since I left. Gathering my brains around me I entered my office ready to work only to discover a most unpleasant surprise. An uninformed message had been given to the director and she didn't think I had my documents in order. Doing the only reasonable thing, she postponed the starting of school for another week. Vacation for Troy. But why, oh why didn't I think to call and confirm that school would start as scheduled before coming back to Kaliningrad? I can vacation as good in Stavropol as in Kaliningrad, and maybe even better. Then a morbid thought entered my mind: Russkaya systema! I had been in Russia for nearly nine months. It appears that my dreaded friend - systema Russkaya - has found its way into my blood.
Well, I suppose that brings to a conclusion my lengthiest blog entry to date and my meet the folks themed vacation. Did I have fun? Of course. Did I learn anything? Probably. Is the Russkaya systema really as backwards as I portrayed it? I don't think so, but for comic and educational value I chose to present it as such. Ta-ta for now.
[+/-] the rest of the story....
False start. One more note regarding the pictures I took. If you click on the date, a page will open up with the pictures I took that day. If you just want to view the slideshow, click on May 6 and then press the 'View Slideshow' button.
2005 May 5, Thursday
A travel day. I seem to vaguely remember waking up early to blog my Polish excursion. Then I washed my stack of dirty dishes and ran out the door to catch my ride to the airport. Fortunately the driver was late, because I ran into traffic and didn't arrive at the meeting spot until nearly 10 minutes late. I don't remember the short plane ride because I was out, but was greeted by Anastasia and her mother in Moscow. The fun began as we ran to catch the bus to the metro. Forty minutes later I tried to enter the metro with the one pass card they had bought for me earlier that day. It didn't work. While waiting for the mother and daughter duo to convince the guard that the card should work, I stood in line to buy a new ticket. Thirteen rubles is worth more now than when I came to Russia, but still a drop in the bucket. When I got up to the counter, the lady decided she needed to do some paperwork. So I laid my money down and waited. After two minutes the lady looked up and reached for my money. At that very moment Anastasia's mom came and told me to take my money. I was quick and grabbed it before the ticket seller did. Evidently the person on duty was tired of listening to them and decided to let me pass. However, my head wasn't screwed on correctly and I tried to go through the stile without a ticket. It closed on me and set the alarm off. Great start.
Lady luck looked prettily on the three of us as we careened around Moscow safely. I just managed to meet the people that would take care of my passport and secure travel documents before they left for the day. Then, with enough time for a short bathroom break, we boarded a bus bound for Grandma's (or Babushka's, in Russian) residence in Murom. I was actually surprised. Except for a 20 minute period when Anastasia wanted to tell me something (and be sure that I understood it), we spoke Russian. Six hours or so and I was able to keep up a decent ramble. Scenery out the window wasn't spectacular, but there were an awful lot of Russian churches in the towns we passed through.
I think it was sometime around 11 in the evening when we arrived. I tried to help Anastasia's mom (Mama) set the little roller cart she used for her suitcase up but was quickly informed that it utilized the Russkaya systema (Russian system) and therefore I couldn't understand it. Deciding not to argue, I let the real Russians fiddle with their suitcase and we walked to Babushka's apartment. Mama's sister Tanya lives with Babushka, and she just happened to be looking out the window as we came walking toward their apartment and came down to let us in.
Meet the folks. After a long day of travel, I don't suppose my defenses were quite prepared, but evidently I passed the first round of inspection. I don't remember much of the details except for one thing. When it was time to take a shower Aunt Tanya told me not to turn off the water in the bathroom but to let it run continually. To make sure I got the picture, my personal translator/girlfriend told me in English, with an added description - Russkaya systema.
2005 May 6, Friday
Two room apartment for four women and one dude. Who gets what? Well, as the guest of honor, I got my own room. Of course that meant that the three young chicks had to share a room and Babushka got stuck in the kitchen. A nice advantage is that with a door on my room I could pretend to sleep in, although I'm not sure that 8 o'clock counts as sleeping in.
Russian breakfast completed, what to do? Oooh, time to walk around Murom. I was actually pretty excited about that idea so Anastasia and I set out. We walked to the main park and down to the Oka river, which is quite large this time of year. Then at her insistence, we went for a bumper car ride. Not bad, not bad. The only two non-seatbelted drivers were the two of us. I was getting pretty good at pulling wheelies when our time was up and we had to leave. Back in the day when AZ was az, some friend of the family sold tickets for that event and she was able to ride forever for free.
Continuing on our excursion of Murom, we visited the market. Smaller than I expected, it was fairly well organized and held a small fillip for us. A white cat was meandering about and shot me a quick glance - one eye blue and the other one yellowish. Weird!
Lunch was probably something good, but I don't remember. Later that afternoon I think we called AZ's sister at home and told her when we would be coming. After the phone hung up I put two and two together and realized that without a passport I wouldn't be able to fly, oops.
Another walk and a missed photo opportunity. We were wandering aimlessly toward the other side of town when I looked to the right and was awestruck by what I saw. A lovely wooden house with windows. Except instead of the windows being straight (like this |) they were crooked (like this /). I whipped out my camera and got the perfect shot lined up when the battery died. As I was replacing it, the owner of the house returned and stood at the doorway. Not wanting to get myself in too much trouble, I didn't take his photo. Unfortunately, I forgot to come back and preserve that spectacle for my future entertainment. Yet again, my girlfriend aptly explained it to me - Russkaya systema.
When we were about to come home, Anastasia suggested that we go into one of the monastery courtyards and look around. Normally I don't consider myself such a stickler for the rules, but decided to play Sergeant Mean and asked her if she had a shawl to cover her head with. She replied that she didn't have one, and I refused to enter the monastery with her. A small squall ensued, but it appears that my doggedness fit the situation. When we met up back at the ranch, Aunt Tanya informed us that recently it was announced on the radio that no women were to enter a monastery without their head covered or wearing pants.
Time to shower again and I witnessed the procedure and the reason why the bathroom spigot must stay on. Hot water comes from the gas powered hot water heater in the kitchen. If the water is turned off, the fire does not necessarily go off with it and problems ensue. Yet again we have further evidence of a (drum-roll please) Russkaya systema. (Note: I never quite figured out how to fire up the heater which I know is shameful to admit for a former plumber's assistant. Yet, when you find yourself the head lion of your very own pride, part of the wonder of life is just watching people do stuff for you.)
2005 May 7, Saturday
Growing up, when my family went for our yearly vacation we didn't attend church as a rule. I don't view this as necessarily good or bad, it is just a family tradition. As a vacationing man, it seemed slightly strange for me to 'waste' a good day in a strange church with strange people speaking a strange language. As a guest, I went.
Lunch was great and before long everybody except for Babushka headed to the final resting place of Grandad. I forgot about my position at the top of the food chain and stupidly assumed that there would be something I could do to help clean up the plot. We arrived and the two experienced women set to work while us two younguns were advised to explore the cemetery. There is only so much exploring that one can do, so before long we explored our way right out of the cemetery.
Saying hello and goodbye to some of the people at the church came next. Instead of watching a riveting film on the life of Martin Luther, we opted to head back to the river. Our wanderings eventually led us to a secluded spot near a monastery. Really beautiful reflection in the run off water from the Oka. A small cliff next to the church cried out for exploring. Two steps down I noticed something unusual. Looking a bit closer I noticed a big pile of bones. Bones! Right beneath an old Russian church. It appears that the cliff eroded over time as cliffs are prone to do. The part of the earth keeping these particular bones out of public view for who knows how long finally gave way exposing some long dead Russian Saint. What could I possibly do but snap a shot.
What is this? A whole day without evidence of the incomprehensible Russkaya systema? Now that just wouldn't be right. As I sat drinking some tea with my subservient elders I noticed something and finally fumbled it out in Russian. The burner on the range where the tea kettle had been heated was still going full blast but the kettle was set on a cold burner. The explanation was simple enough - I was in Russia, the land of inexhaustible resources. There is plenty of gas to go around. But, Aunt Tanya continued quickly, they were practicing conservation by saving matches. My commentator leaned over and whispered into my ear with a smile, "Russkaya system!" Finally it was starting to sink in that her statement of my inability to fathom the great Russian system was spot on.
2005 May 8, Sunday
Me and my big mouth...I had mentioned that it would be cool to attend a Russian Orthodox service sometime while I was in Murom. So when I woke up at the ripe hour of 7:30 I was informed that we would be leaving in 20 minutes. The logical choice: the nearby female monastery. Now the obvious reason is that there are females (even if they are nuns), but apparently there is more. I only partially understood the legend behind the two sarcophaguses in the main hall when it was explained to me. This translates into I really don't remember anything now. But I saw them - a man and a woman nicely mummified in the front right section of the church. I think I was bad; I whipped out my little voice recorder and caught some of the music. There were maybe 7 or 8 woman in a circle to the left side singing and the main male deacon dude had an amazing voice. Coupled with his half-opened eyes, he epitomized the stereotype I carry of an Orthodox officiator.
Part of big troy's bedtime routine thus far had been a Russian fairy tale from the book that has served two generations (and counting). After having traipsed all over Murom, I decided to take a rest and read. Apparently my soothing voice was just so enthusiastic that my audience fell fast asleep. Her sister called soon and naptime for Little AZ was finished.
What to do? Must be about time for another walk. This time we attempted to go to a museum. Just as we knocked on the door, the curator came out and said she had just engaged the alarm, could we come back on Wednesday? Sure, why not. Oh yeah, we leave on Wednesday morning. No problem then, see you in a few years...
There is a rather large cliff (the same one from the bones) that goes down to the river and kind of cuts the town into two parts. We used one of the pedestrian bridges to get to the other side. The nature was rather lovely, Russian style (trees, long grass, and 17 tons of garbage). We could see Babushka's house from where we were and decided to cross a different bridge on the return trip. This turned out to be a wild goose chase. Every time the bridge appeared to be within walking distance another ravine popped up in front of us. Finally finding the correct way, a series of fences blocked our escape. I never leave home without my souvenir from the year I spent in the pen - industrial grade barbed wire fence snippers. As luck would have it Russia prefers wooden fences thereby rendering my tool useless. Finally we escaped the labyrinth mostly unscathed.
Friday evening as the two of us were out walking about we bumped into a friend of Mama Zorina's and told her to call sometime in the next few days. She chose this evening to do so. And for the second time of who knows how many I listened to Mama recount her American adventures as she showed off the photos they took and then all of the souvenirs - from the panoramic prints of New York City down to the straw she swiped from some restaurant. It was great to be back in the 'kid role' again, even if only for a few minutes. After awhile the grownups asked if we wouldn't like to go for a walk or something. To be more precise, Babushka told Anastasia to go walk me because I was fidgeting.
The evening constitutional found us back at the park and we tried the ferris wheel. The view was pretty nice up in the air, but about half way around Anastasia informed me that we would only have one revolution. If the wheel had been full I don't think I would have complained, but it really wasn't. I still didn't complain, but it seemed like a rather large gip until I remembered my new term for the trip: Russkaya systema.
2005 May 9, Monday
May 9, the Day of the Great Victory that marked an end to the Second World War. Since I arrived in Russia 9 months ago I thought I'd be in Kaliningrad to celebrate. My time in Murom was much better than would've been possible for me in Kaliningrad, I think. The day began much like any other with a humongous breakfast, face wash, etc. Then I joined the others around the TV and we watched the pre-parade festivities. Once again I was reminded of how short President Putin really is. He always looks so tall, but there is usually nothing to reference his height against. I was mildly scared for a moment or two when I saw my President G-Dubya behind the wheel of an antique Russian car with Putin riding shotgun. A real military parade in all its glory. I would've been perfectly happy to sit and continue watching the festivities in Moscow, but my lovely stopwatch grabbed me by the ear and we hurried to see Murom's parade.
Since we were late we missed all the mumbo jumbo preceding the parade, which is just as well I suppose. About five minutes after we lumbered up, the ranks moved out. The route went from one of the main squares in the center of town to a large WWII Memorial in a cemetery nearby. Since Murom is a bustling metropolis on the scale of Moscow, we had the same number of soldiers and veterans present....not. Leading the parade were a few military jeeps and about 35 young soldiers. After that came the drummer girls, band, and many groups bearing flowers. The groups ranged from individual people with small bouquets to organizations and schools bringing large floral displays. At the tail of the parade rode three mounted police. Instead of following the exact path that everybody took we thought we'd head them off and cut through the cemetery to the monument. We were not the only ones who had this bright idea and the place was pretty packed. For me it was interesting to just watch all the people. A part of me wished I had a real camera so I could get better pictures, but I made due with what I had available (and didn't have the added hassle of another bulky bag).
About eight years ago Anastasia's parents came into some money and purchased an apartment in Murom. Usually it is rented out, but presently is vacant and we made a trek to the other side of town to have a look. The area was really quiet and appeared to be pretty safe although there were railroad tracks pretty close to the house. Getting in proved to be an exercise in patience. At first the keys baffled my girlfriend and then I had a whirl trying to figure which way was the magic way to make the door open. Just as I was ready to call it quits the door opened. Inside there really wasn't any furniture to speak of - a stool in the kitchen and an old folded up baby crib. Two rooms, one big and one small. Solidly built but could definitely use some sprucing up. After having a peek at the place and testing the toilet, we vacated. The closest thing to a landmark is a telephone that, from the looks of it, hasn't been in service since right around the end of the war. Feeling a tad hungry after a hard days work at the parade and apartment (and figuring we were more than a little late for the special meal), we headed home. The timing worked out just about right as it started to rain just as our bus came near.
If normally I was only 120% full following mealtime I was at least 175% full after the 'Victory Meal'. Dessert only got a few nibbles from everyone and was saved for later consumption. Performing my sole act of domestic violence (drying the dishes) came next. I think that if I had tried to wash them, we would have had the makings of World War III, so I settled for drying with a wet towel. Since 60 years have passed, there were 60 war themed movies on the tube. We all vegged out and watched a fairly violent recent film that culminates in the main actors going up in a fiery inferno. I finally learned the Russian word for star thanks to the movie. I always forgot it, but it was part of a radio handle and was repeated maybe 40 times during the course of two hours.
Salute! I wasn't actually all that certain what it meant, but at 10 pm it was happening, so we all, except for Grandma, went to watch. Now I know what salute means too - fireworks. And true to the Russia I've experienced, it had a flavoring of the implicit Russkaya system. I truly did enjoy the fireworks, but similar to back at New Year, some were a little on the close side (though that may be my father's lawyer jeans being worn an ocean away). The thing that I loved was how much of a reaction the fireworks got from the crowd. Every little explosion got an even bigger response from the eager, inebriated observers.
2005 May 10, Tuesday
First thing in the morning and what do I want? That's right...breakfast! But since we had such a large meal at 5 pm the day before my trustee steed and I were not fed until 12:45. The real reason was that we had to run to the train station and buy tickets before they sold out. Well we arrived, but nobody knew if there were still tickets available. We would have needed to wait for an hour and a half to discover if there were even any seats. To my reckoning it didn't make sense to waste an hour and a half to save 45 minutes the next day. On to the bus station. Russkaya systema was in full swing there. The ticket seller for our tickets had just closed for an hour break, and while her colleague at the next window wasn't doing anything, we had to wait for the woman to finish lunch. Joining the line, we waited. Finally getting tickets for 6:30 the next morning, my noble steed and I returned from the hunt having found success in a round about sort of way.
I seem to remember a good portion of the day having the roles reversed (I became the steed) as we went shopping. I guess I'm a pansy, but sometimes shopping just isn't my piece of cake. Sometimes it is, but this was not one of the times. I did survive and returned to hear the America routine again with another group of friends. Yet again us energetic youth were sent off to wander the town. One last sweep around the old haunts to tide her for a few years. At Anastasia's insistence, we bought sunflower seeds. Up until now she has not actively partook in the Russkaya systemas. When I eat sunflower seeds, I find it way too much work for way too little reward to take the shells off. The Trojan system is to take a handful of sunflower seeds and deposit them in your mouth. This worked fine until she noticed what I was doing. After appealing to my sense of sanitaryness and scolding me, she finally refused to give me any seeds unless I ate them the correct way. I tried a handful her way and it took me two blocks. Let's compare Trojan to Russkaya: two steps, two blocks. Need I say anything more? Perhaps yes. At first AZ thought she was educating me about the Russian way. Once I caught on I saw that she too used some Russianisms in her daily life (if you consider eating sunflower seeds to be a daily occurrence). Moral of the story, education is not always beneficial to the educator or the educated. Or perhaps, sunflower seeds provide for excellent relationship building. More probable, Troy is just an enigma and his way of doing things is more than likely not the way of normal folk.
This fine day concluded with some women sitting around the dining table and me poking my head in the room. Big ears always get a man in trouble, this time included. Babushka was building up to her boy + girl = fill-in-the-blank culmination when I decided to sit down. Again I scored a survivation mark, but not more.
2005 May 11, Wednesday
Six days remaining and more than three of them travel days. Ahhh. At least this one started fine with me waking up somewhere around 4:30. It was already light outside so I thought that perhaps we had slept in accidentally. I made a little too much noise and Babushka hurried from her place in the kitchen to the other room to wake up those lazy women and tell them that Troy was already up, dressed, shaved, and ready to leave. Sorry about that, women. We all gathered together and sat for a few seconds before departing.
This bus was like the first one except the bus driver kept stopping to pick up extra passengers. These undocumented travelers provided extra money for his pocket, but slowed our trip down. At one point the bus was filled with people in the aisle and everything. In a normal city transport bus this is usual, but for somebody to stand for 2 hours at a time seemed a little strange for me. Into Moscow, jiggidy jig. No, my travel documents were not good enough for flying on a plane. Okay, lets take a 20+ hour bus ride. Tickets bought and baggage stowed, the three of us had three hours to kill.
Somebody had the great idea to walk around and do the first thing that caught our eye. Well it wasn't my eye that was caught, but I went along - a four floor mall! Much better than yesterday I must admit. Most of the time we were looking for shoes. Correction: they were looking for shoes and I was carrying the food. My recommendation received Mama's approval, but I think AZ gave them the nix before she tried them on - a pair of (I don't know the proper name, so pardon the vulgar nickname) hooker boots. My reason for suggesting them had to do with the style of the heel. Apparently it is in fashion now. One of my students purchased a pair of boots and I jokingly gave her a really hard time over it. Eventually, the style grew on me and I felt that it would only be fitting for Anastasia to at least try them on.
Finished our fruitless shoe shopping spree, bought ice cream, pottied ourselves, and then boarded the bus. I thought I'd be nice and let the mother and daughter sit together. True, I was able to read some things that I wanted to, but the real reason was that I had hogged her daughter for nearly a week and I thought that maybe the mom wanted her back for a few hours. This bus ride was something else, let me tell you. Without going into too many embarrassing specifics some food didn't settle right with the women (Babushka and Aunt inclusive, as we found out later). Why I don't know, but your Trojan hero escaped unscathed.
Sometime around 10:30 we had a brief pit stop and I reclaimed my seatmate. Wanting to be available as needed, my sleep was small and light.
2005 May 12, Thursday
A beautiful day after a not so beautiful night. The bus continued on through pretty nice country with a pretty nice sun overhead. Sun and little ventilation makes for an unpleasant ride. After a loooooooooooooong time we landed. Hailed a cab to take us to the suburb where home is. Before the taxi man had our suitcases out of the back, Sister Sonya bounded out the window (she probably used the door, but I didn't see) and welcomed everybody home.
Minor living rearrangements to make room for me and then a fabulous dinner. I can't remember all of the ingredients, but I remember that it was quick and easy and tasty and had raisins with potatoes - yummy! Mama yelled at Sonya about the state of the bathroom (something I can relate to only too well the first time Anastasia was a guest at my place), but said that most everything else passed inspection.
Dinner finished and the three of us headed to the family dog's resting place and a nearby lake. The picture attack began when we reached home. After an album or so Sonya broke out her movie camera and began recounting her time in England last summer. I was surprised at how young she looked in movies that weren't even a year old. It must be the effect England has on her because even the mass transit sold her children's tickets.
If I were looking for Russkaya systemas today, what would I say? Possibly the hatch on the bus that didn't open adding to the lack of comfort. Or possibly the shower less a curtain.
2005 May 13, Friday
Today opened with a Russian cat. There are four of them that call the Zorina flat home. Rather early one of them decided that I'd slept enough and opened the door into my room and started meowing loudly. I opened the window and soon he was gone. Cats that can open doors? Wait, I remember....Russkaya systema.
Routines completed, Anastasia took me by the hand and led me to the bus stop for a day of non-stop action. It was called meet my teachers, friends, and old haunts. The first stop was her school. I listened as she talked to a few former teachers, most of who remembered her. Then I got to speak. She really liked her English teacher and arranged for me to yak at some poor unsuspecting Russian students. This I did with great pleasure and before I realized it I was getting the kill signal from my boss at the back of the class. Next stop, classmate and friend Zhenya. We had a spot of tea and watched as a little girl practiced her ice skating routine on the rink in the middle of the mall. Zhenya was late to teach some people, so we parted ways. For the next half hour I went trigger happy and captured AZ with many different flowers and trees. Time for another school methinks. In the market my cellist bought some roses and we went to her second music school. The lady she wanted to give the roses to was rehearsing a trio so we sat and listened for a while. Present delivered and life caught up on, more walking. Then the first music school and a phone call to the teacher who had already left the building. The flowers we bought this time weren't of the same caliber. The three roses for Teacher One cost something like 150 rubles while the bouquet of flowers for Teacher Two was 7 rubles and 50 kopeks. Common sense says that when you pay one-twentieth the cost, the quality may be a bit different, and different it was. Turn it upside down, shake it all around, and half the flowers were gone. Oh well, it provided much more entertainment value for me!
On the way home again after a long day. My sense of direction being what it is, I haven't a clue where we went in Stavropol, but I met some nice people and discovered what the places looked like where Anastasia spent most of her teenage years. Back at home I exchanged sisters and sat a long spell with Sonya talking about nothing and everything. Definitely an all around cool gal. I think prior to meeting her a day before I had spoken with her twice on the telephone for a total of about five minutes so all my impressions of her were based on what her sister told me. I suppose I wasn't shocked at what the real Sonya is like, yet still all other forms of communication don't hold a candle to face-to-face communication. At the risk of going off the deep end, I could say my prior view of her was like looking at a cool star through a telescope - fascinating, but only a speck way off in the distance. And now that I got to meet and talk with the star her brilliance is a lot more real and infusing. Finally, sister one succeeded in stealing me back and we leafed through another album or two before beddy-bye time.
2005 May 14, Saturday
I don't suppose it is possible for clothes to take on the attributes of their surroundings, but my pants did. Before leaving America I bought a top of the line pair of khakis that are (or were) water resistant, stain resistant, wrinkle resistant,... the works. Sure no wrinkles and easily removed stains are nice, but water that beads up and rolls off nice dress pants?! That is something to be proud of. This feature has worked like a charm in moderate to heavy drizzle in my traipsing around Kaliningrad's perpetual rainy weather. But what is the essence of the Russkaya systema? Not understandable by a person in a rational frame of mind. On the way to church, my pants leaked. At first it was just a little moist on my thighs and then the deluge penetrated my formerly fine fabric and my legs were soaked.
After the service a friend invited us to his house for lunch. Finally I got to be a little useful and helped make a salad. The food was great and the conversation was decent (even if it was mainly in English). An almost six year old girl commandeered the computer and began describing in detail all of the pictures of a house-in-progress to me. I believe that if I can ever understand what she was telling me about those pictures, I'll be fluent in this language. A brief tour of scenic Stavropol was in order before boarding the bus back to the Zorina dwelling place.
Yes, finally the motherlode of photos was unearthed and I leafed through album after album after album after album after... I really do like looking at pictures but am just a tad disappointed that they needed to be crowded into such a small amount of time.
Before I knew it it was late again. But time still remained for Mama's version of Babushka's talk. This was the main time of the whole trip that I utilized my translator. I spoke in English and what I said made its way via Sis #1 or Sis #2 back to Mama. Part of me wished that I had my voice recorder in my pocket so I could stealthily preserve that four-way interaction for posterity, but it is probably best that it was in the other room. Although I'm sure it would have been insightful and instructive later on, the nebulous thing we call memory is a better preserver of life than some measly 0s and 1s.
2005 May 15, Sunday
I think it was a cat that played with my door signaling the time had come to get up. Packed, breakfasted, and teeth cleaned, I said my goodbyes to Mama and boarded the bus to town with the dynamic dueling sisters. We were some of the first people at my bus and loaded the foodstuffs and luggage before enjoying some early Stavropolian rays. Seeing that I still had a large chunk of available memory on my camera, I thought to make a movie. In traditional Troyjan style I interviewed both sisters individually (in English) and then asked them to say something in Russian. Acting on the Russian impulse to always sing, they broke into song. I didn't understand exactly what the song was about until a few days ago in a free talk session. My favorite Russian Grandma that lives in Kaliningrad recognized the song and explained it to me. A young bride is standing at the altar preparing to marry a rich old man and is lamenting her plight. When your girlfriend picks a happy song of this depth to sing to you as you go away, it makes you wonder just a little bit
I read, watched movies, and looked out the window as my bus rolled merrily back to Moscow. Thankfully, my temperature was gone (oops forgot to mention I'd been running a low-grade fever for the prior two days) and the air conditioning worked.
2005 May 16, Monday
In Moscow I had only a few hours to retrieve my passport and get to the airport. The bus made excellent time and I was confident I would catch the plane. When I arrived to pick up my passport a small surprise was waiting for me - transportation to the airport. I was able to find a bathroom with a toilet, shave, and check my email before leaving. The flight was uneventful and as I boarded my taxi bound for the city I couldn't help but notice how green everything had gotten since I left. Gathering my brains around me I entered my office ready to work only to discover a most unpleasant surprise. An uninformed message had been given to the director and she didn't think I had my documents in order. Doing the only reasonable thing, she postponed the starting of school for another week. Vacation for Troy. But why, oh why didn't I think to call and confirm that school would start as scheduled before coming back to Kaliningrad? I can vacation as good in Stavropol as in Kaliningrad, and maybe even better. Then a morbid thought entered my mind: Russkaya systema! I had been in Russia for nearly nine months. It appears that my dreaded friend - systema Russkaya - has found its way into my blood.
Well, I suppose that brings to a conclusion my lengthiest blog entry to date and my meet the folks themed vacation. Did I have fun? Of course. Did I learn anything? Probably. Is the Russkaya systema really as backwards as I portrayed it? I don't think so, but for comic and educational value I chose to present it as such. Ta-ta for now.
posted by Troy on 12:00
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Another great quote, and
that's no Lion!