Fifteen cents a picture

Again, this is one of those posts that could have been titled any number of things: Revenge of the non-existent plastic bag, A simply perfect haircut, Troy gets a new girlfriend, and Somedays you get the bear; somedays the bear gets you to name just a few. Oh, yeah there is also call me a liar (I'm not typing an overly short post or with a new keyboard layout).

Last Wednesday one of my students gave me a lift home after class so I was back in my neighborhood a shade earlier than usual. My barber shop closes at 22, so I dropped my backpack and shirt in the apartment and ran there to get a trim as I was rather shaggy. They told me they closed early, but scheduled an appointment for the next day. Still having about ten minutes before the quickie-mart closed, I ambled in to by a few staples. Ninety-four rubles and eighty-one kopeks later I had myself a liter of milk, 100 grams of smoked cheese, six bananas, and a loaf of bread. And no plastic bag, which really wasn't a big deal because I was headed to my flat a two minute walk away. Then I glanced one checkout lane over and....

Instant recognition. The red-haired girl I've mentioned before (whose name is Lena), was getting ready to check out. I decided to wait a few minutes and see why she was in my neck of the woods. She has, among other things, the gift of gab, so I opted to walk her part way home. We had a nice conversation (or as nice as you can have with a goofball, such as myself). After about ten minutes or so, she said she had to go into a small store, and I waited. Shocking me, she walked out and handed me a nice plastic bag. I tried to refuse it, but quickly realized that that would be very rude and took it.

My appointment for a bush whacking came and I went. Usually when I go to the local beauty salon, the people don't treat me very well because I don't know the lingo, but my barber was incredibly nice. For probably thirty minutes she was working on my hair. Maybe I'm biased because she treated me nicely, but of all the barbers I've had, she approached it like somewhat of an art - studying the head from all angles and combing my hair various ways to find the way that it naturally wanted to lie. We even had a short conversation, well worth the ~$3.

After work Thursday evening, I stopped by my boss's place to give her something that she had left at school. Who should be there still, but her baby-sitter, Lena. I was just in time for dinner and had some 'young potatoes' and greens. After the buses stopped working all of us called it an evening, and I again played the non-sensical foreign escort for a short section of the way home.

On Saturday after church, one of the young dudes came up and asked me if I'd be available to help out in a wedding next month. Not having anything better to do, I agreed. The first rehearsal was to be that evening. After finishing up my lesson at school I realized I didn't quite know the best way (or any way, for that matter) to get to the rehearsal place. Who should come to my rescue but a beginning English student also headed that way. You guessed it, her name was Lena. Not eating for a whole day makes you kind of hungry and she had chocolate cookies in her possession! Shall we say that not many of them remained that way.

This morning I rose at a reasonable hour and started doing whatever it is that I do on a Sunday morning. After eating a decent amount I set off to meet the people from my language school for a small excursion. It turns out that the boat ride we went on was the same one that Anastasia and I rode on when she visited, but a little bit longer. I arrived early and walked around photoing some interesting sights. The tour came and was actually rather nice. I got some better pictures than the last time and was a little bad in the process. They have a few photocopied pictures of the city as it used to be with captions. On the return ride, I photographed three books worth of pictures so I'd have some reference old shots in the future.

Later this afternoon, a friend called and asked if I wanted to go to the sea. I politely declined and explained that I needed to clean my floor because I had seen my first cockroach the night before. He replied with the true statement that you can clean your floor at night, but the sun is not on the beach at night. We talked a few more minutes and then I thought we'd decided I wasn't going. He said one more thing and I responded in a way that made him think I was going. I decided why not and went.

Here we come to the case study for today's entry, how much do those digital photographs that you take really cost you? The answer for me is just shy of 15 cents (if we assume that movies are single photos). So is digital really cheaper? If we assume $4 for a roll of 27 exposures, then digital is actually a shade more expensive without the added benefit of actual prints.

My friend and a few other friends of his in two cars arrived near to the beach. We got out and started to squeeze into one car to go on further, but decided against it until a bit later. I was already out, but set my stuff and self back in the car for our continued journey. When we arrived at the designated get-into-one-car spot, I asked the stupid question if I should bring my camera with me and received the serious answer, "Of course!" Next came the surprise at not finding my camera and the instant realization and sunken stomach feeling when you wish you could undo the done. A few kilometers back when I got out thinking we were ready, I had set my camera atop the car and placed the bag of food, my towel, and myself inside the car, but neglected the camera. The two of us hustled back to the probable scene of the crime and hunted around for a few minutes to no avail. No use crying over spilled milk as they say, even if the milk is on the expensive side.

When the others asked me about what happened, I responded with a fitting statement: every man is a fool sometimes. Then on to the beach where I had my first swim in the sea which was delightfully nippy. The waves were nice and choppy and right now I've still got water in one ear. Lazing on the beach, I practiced eating sunflower seeds the Russian way a bit more. For the unexperienced dope like myself, this is very difficult.

In just a few hours I'm gonna take the first train back to where I lost my camera and hunt around a little more and possibly put a lost ad in the local newspaper, but in all reality my little pouch with one camera, three spare batteries, a gigabyte of memory and a couple thousand rubles is gone. My only chance at getting it back is if it falls into the hands of a very honest, very computer geeky person. The only pictures visible on the memory cards are the ones that I took this morning on the boat ride, but if this mythical geek were to look at the erased pictures s/he would find a picture of my electricity and/or water bill which has my address on it. Bringing us to our main lesson for today: always, always, always have your name and contact info in every small parcel you own. I didn't five years ago when I lost my wallet and I didn't today either. This one small thing may save your skin multiple times over the course of a lifetime.

My only other interesting thought at the moment is of a discussion I had with my Level 3 students about two weeks ago. There was a little article they read and then we talked about the American proverb, "Finders keepers, losers weepers." One of the students put his opinion quite nicely. He stated that this can be good and bad. Good if you're the finder and bad if you're the loser. Relating back to the present situation, assuming that my camera is not smashed to a million pieces right now, I may have made somebody very happy today.

All ain't well

The countdown is nearly over until the huge celebration in my Russian hometown begins. In less than 5 days all work is supposed to be finished (like that will happen). Last night a most unexpected consequence of fixing the city disturbed me. They decided that the street lights on my street were part of the numerous things around the city that needed sprucing up. As a result instead of it being dark, there is light coming in my window. I don't think the added security is worth the light in my eyes, but this is a big city and what the little man wants doesn't always happen.

Rather than provide all the juicy tidbits of my girlfriend's visit with me in Kaliningrad, I have a few photos up for your enjoyment. If any of them require explanation, please ask and I'll try to clarify. We had a lovely time together in my city, but, assuming you suffered through the last entry, you've heard enough about us so I'll mention just one thing. On Monday, May 29, we went to the zoo. I've never been so it was about time somebody dragged me to it, the oldest zoo in Russia. (Of course the Germans started it and after the war there were only four animals remaining, but those are minor details.) As you'd expect, it was fairly empty on an overcast Monday morning, but we had a great time walking around and looking at the strange animals. We came to the birdhouse and there was no sign on the door stating its hours, so we entered. Up a flight of stairs we went because all the birds were on the second story. Naturally, when we finished looking at the birds we wanted to leave the building, but sadly the door was locked.

Apparently, the bird house was closed for renovation and somebody just happened to be in getting food out when we entered and ascended the staircase. I thought it was pretty funny, and soon Anastasia agreed with me. Fortunately, she spoke Russian and after banging on the door for the better part of an hour, we were freed. But not before we tried to find some other ways to escape. Inside the birdhouse are large cages for the large birds. One door was only closed, but not locked and she opened it. Seeing that it apparently led into an empty cage, she suggested we go out and play 'crazy birds in a zoo cage.' The vacant cage was not really vacant though, a rabid emu was hiding behind a tree waiting to leisurely amble on over and peck our eyes out. Freed at last, the rest of the zoo was not quite as exciting for me: I had been a hostage in a Russian zoo!

I don't like to think this way, but realistically the countdown until my Russian year ends is already underway. Recently, my return flight home for August 23 was confirmed. Only two months left. Have I matured any over the last ten months? I hope not. Growing old is for grown-ups, not kids like me.

On a bird related note, a week or so ago I decided to walk to my school and arrived early. Sitting on a park bench I relaxed for a few moments when a pigeon limped over to me. The poor dude was missing his foot and it looked like he had a peg leg. I had quite a time watching the little gimp hobble around.

I know I've mumbled some words in this vein before, but now I am issuing an ultimatum. From this point onward, my posts will be short. More regular, but short. The reason for this is that I am finally trying to learn a new keyboard layout cold-turkey. We will see how this progresses, but for the sake of my future arthritis, I'd like to make a concerted effort.

And now, a delightful sunny seaside awaits me. But then again so does a grimy floor. I wonder which will win!