Way Over Yonder in the Minor Key

Bifrost Arts

2012-01-12T17:09:00.000-08:00

People used to buy cd's. I used to buy cd's when I was in college. Every other week when I got paid, I'd go and buy a cd or two. I'd spend the the next two weeks reading music magazines and researching which cd I was going to buy next payday. I consumed a lot of music and was always trying to stay just ahead of the masses.

Then I graduated. And got a real job. And became a real adult. Staying ahead of curve just stopped being important. I still consume music, but it's more about working my backwards than it is about moving forward. So, I haven't kept abreast with a lot of the new music, but some friends got me an iTunes gift card for Christmas (thanks, Sprouls!); it was fun to look around again for some new music. I ended up getting an album from an organization, Bifrost Arts.

I came across them because I was looking for music from David Bazan and saw that he performed on this album. And it was a great concept: musicians who, for the most part, achieved success in the secular realm performing hymns. Seeing Damien Jurado performing on the album was icing on the cake. I'm not trying to review it. I'll just say I like it, but what I find interesting is what Bifrost Arts are about. Here's a video to give you an insight.

I've got a few more things I'd like to write about, but, for right now, check out the video and tell me your thoughts.

También la Lluvia

2012-01-05T15:33:00.000-08:00

Elizabeth and I watched Even the Rain (También la Lluvia) Tuesday night. E works with a Christian non-profit, Servant Partners, that works with urban poor doing community development and church planting. Several of her colleagues recommended the movie to her and I can see why. I'm not going to review it for you, but you can read more about it here if you want, but, basically, it is a movie within a movie; Gael Garcia Bernal's character was inspired to make a film after reading the sermon of Antonio de Montesinos, where he confronted his flock over their unchristian treatment of the natives:

This voice declares that you are in mortal sin, and live and die therein by reason of the cruelty
and tyranny that you practice on these innocent people. Tell me, by what right or justice do you hold
these Indians in such cruel and horrible slavery?... Are they not men? Do they not have rational souls? Are you not bound to love them as you love yourselves? How can you lie in such profound and lethargic slumber?

When the opportunity comes in the film for the crew to help the locals in their time of need, most fail to do so. And they have very understandable reasons, but it's very frustrating for the audience to watch. And then you realize that is a perfect picture of us. We all have so many very understandable and valid reasons not to help our brothers and sisters, not to love them as we love ourselves, to lie in profound and lethargic slumber. I'm not one for New Year's resolutions, but I want to make 2012 a year where I was awake to the needs of my brothers and sisters. Lord, help me to do it!

The Great Helmsman

2012-01-05T14:44:00.000-08:00

The other day Elizabeth and I were walking around the Crate and Barrel when I saw a hipster walking around with his lady-friend; he had a messenger bag slung over his shoulder with a graphic of Mao Zedong. Maybe it's the history major in me, but it made me very upset. Either a) he doesn't know or care who's face it is or b) he believes his Maoist politics need to be immediately evident to everyone who sees his bag. Seeing as how he was shopping for a fancy new knife set with his lady in Crate and Barrel, the veritable high altar of capitalism, I'd say he isn't a Marxist-Maoist. Then he must just be totally ignorant of the fact that Maoist repressions and policies are responsible for the death of, literally, MILLIONS of people. Or he's a big fan of Mao's more violent policies and those cheap Target knife sets just don't have the quality he needs for the repressions he's planning.

So, if this gentleman's grasp of history is bad, he should at least have a better grasp of the Beatles: "If you go carrying pictures of Chairman Mao, you ain't goin' to make it with anyone anyhow."

Proverbs 14:34

2011-12-15T15:05:00.000-08:00

"Righteousness exalts a nation, But sin is a disgrace to any people."

I noticed this verse while I was in Germany. I was walking around a small town with friends when we saw a monument to victims of the Nazi regime, with Prov. 14:34 featured prominently. I was living in Russia at the time, and I was struck by the different attitudes toward history that Germans and Russians have. The Nazi regime is estimated to have killed 11 million people as a result of their policies; Germany lost a war and were forced to deal with their history. Let's switch to Russia, where the policies of Joseph Stalin resulted in the death of upwards of 40 million. But the Soviet Union didn't lose a war. The government changed. And who made up the government? Former Communist party bosses and KGB officers. Consequently, Russians have never had to confront their own history the way Germans have, and, in my opinion, that is to their detriment.

I came across an article about this book, and I wanted to shout, "Yes! That's it!" the whole time. You can check out the article about It Was a Long Time Ago, and It Never Happened Anyway here.

The Angriest Man in Claremont

2011-12-08T14:32:00.001-08:00

A long time ago I read the novel How to Be Good by Nick Hornby. In it, one of the main characters, David, is a journalist whose column was entitled "The Angriest Man in Holloway." I'd say that's a dream of mine, to get paid to rant.

Since I don't have a newspaper column, and since my wife/co-workers/friends wouldn't hang out with me if I ranted all the time, I guess this blog has become the repository of many of those rants. Maybe I'll change the name to "The Angriest Man in Claremont."

I Heard the Bells Pt. II

2011-12-08T14:16:00.001-08:00

On the drive up to Redding for Thanksgiving Jameson, Elizabeth, and I played a little game to keep ourselves awake while driving through Merced County at 3 AM: Christmas Carol Bingo. It all started from a question about top three Christmas songs. We then found a Christmas station and it became a game of rooting for one of your selections to play.

Lessons learned from listening to Christmas stations from 3-8 AM:
1. I don't really like Christmas stations because they only play interminable Christmas crap. (see Lesson Learned #2)
2. "Sleigh Bells," "Winter Wonderland," and/or "All I Want for Christmas is You" (and their various renditions) can be heard every other song. This is no exaggeration.
3. "Last Christmas" by George Michael goes on 3 minutes longer than it needs to (some might argue it goes 4:30 longer than it needs to, but I'm feeling charitable).

I Heard the Bells

2011-12-07T17:15:00.001-08:00

Those of you that know my wife, Elizabeth, know that she is a big fan of Christmas and anything related to Christmas. Pope John Paul II said that as Christians we are Easter People; if Elizabeth would have had an audience with him, I'm sure she would have set him straight and told him that we are, in fact, Christmas People.

So, naturally, Christmas music has been playing in our little apartment since September. Unlike my wife, I'm not a fan of the entire Christmas song catalog, but there are some that always affect me. Here are my top three:

1. I Head the Bells on Christmas Day
2. O Holy Night
3. Silent Night

Let's Push Things Forward

2011-12-07T10:09:00.000-08:00

Probably the most often used sentence in the blogosphere: "I've haven't been doing so well in keeping this blog updated."

Anyway, I haven't been doing so well in keeping this blog updated. I think part of the problem is that I've felt I have needed to finish writing about my trip in the fall of 2010 before I could start writing about all this new stuff that's happened. Well, that's been over a year ago and there have been some pretty big things since then, so I'm just going to push things forward. So here's a year in one post:

1. I was in Kazakhstan. It was cold.

2. Christmas in Seattle
3. ...and a Happy New Year with some visitors
4. We got a new niece
5. Married!
6. Moved to LA
7. I went to Russia for work. (no picture)

That just about catches us up.

A Brief Russian Interlude

2011-06-07T17:26:00.000-07:00

Unfortunately, I had to connect in Moscow in order to get to Kazakhstan from Azerbaijan. I've had to connect in Moscow at Sheremetevo before and it was pretty miserable. A word to the wise, only connect in Moscow for flights if you must and be aware that if you are switching from the domestic terminal to the international terminal or vise versa you will need to schedule plenty of time because they are essentially two separate airports. Sheremetevo, as one of my Russian friends described it, is a "hell-place." It seems like everyone I met in Russia has a horror story involving it. Fortunately for me, however, I connected in Domodedovo, the more modern, privately operated airport.

Leaving Azerbaijan, Getting to Kazakhstan

2011-06-07T17:12:00.000-07:00

The time finally came for me to head to Kazakhstan, but there was a slight problem: the OCSE decided to have their conference in Astana, my port of entry into the country, and had not only closed the airport to all non-diplomatic travel but also sealed off the whole city. So, my airline had rescheduled my flight leaving me with 3 days in Moscow; the problem was I didn't have a visa to enter Russia, and I would have to spend all of that time in the airport. So, I had to sort out the involuntary reroute with a Russian airline. Russian business culture isn't exactly customer friendly and after several tense conversations in Russian and English, I canceled my ticket and purchased a ticket with a different airline flying into a different city, Karaganda (thanks a bunch EU presidents and Madame Secretary of State).

When it came time to go to the airport, I hopped in a cab and was off. The cabbie was chatty and very friendly and gave me some advice about life, love, family, and just about everything else; I was able to understand him pretty easily because Russian wasn't his first language either and his speech was simple. I finally made it into the airport and settled in until my plane's gate was announced. I passed the time reading and noticed that there were quite a few birds inside the international terminal, something you just don't see in American airports and probably quite rightly.

A to the Z to the erbaijan Pt. 6: Back in Baku

2011-02-25T16:35:00.000-08:00

I spent a few more days in Baku working before it was time to move on to Kazakhstan. There were a few noteworthy things:

1. I met an Azeri who was more informed on Russian politics and more passionate about it than just about every Russian I knew. He showed me a clip of Leonid Parfyonov, a famous Russian journalist and a speech he delivered at an awards show about freedom of the press in Russia.

2. I had to get to a meeting and had directions to get there by bus, but, after several experiences getting fantastically lost in Russia on buses, I was nervous to go that way. Instead, I decided to go by metro. On a fixed track, you know where you're going, right? Wrong. It turns out that while the Baku Metro looks a lot like the St. Petersburg Metro, it doesn't run the same way. The biggest example? At a crossing station in St. Petersburg one side goes one way on a line and the other side goes the other way and you must go upstairs/downstairs to get to the other line. In Baku, they alternate trains; train 1 will go to the north and then train 2 will go to the south and so on. I didn't know that and wasn't helped by the complete lack of updated metro maps in the stations and on the trains; I ended up spending about an hour riding back and forth trying to figure it out before I asked somebody who set me straight.

A to the Z to the erbaijan Pt. 5: Thanksgiving and the Sheki Bazaar

2011-02-17T16:37:00.000-08:00

Part of the reason I go on my fall trip is to celebrate Thanksgiving with teachers. For many of them it's their first time not being home with family so I try to bring a little bit of the American holiday with me (cans of pumpkin are easy to pack). Since we were traveling on Thanksgiving, we didn't get a chance to make any of the traditional favorites; we wanted turkey but settled for a bit of Turkish food for Thanksgiving dinner. We then spent the rest of the day at the Sheki bazaar, killing time while we waited for our bus back to Baku in the evening. The bazaar was a lot of fun and was a great taste of the Caucasus. We weren't in cosmopolitan Baku anymore and I think many of the folks there didn't quite know what to do with us (and hadn't quite started charging tourist prices yet!).

A to the Z to the erbaijan Pt. 4: Kish

2011-02-09T18:30:00.000-08:00

Enjoying our spread after a long day of hiking

The ancient Alban church

the Caucasus!

The timber industry in Kish

Do you remember the Sheki khan that cheekily told the Persian shah, "Come and see"? The ruins of his fortress where he defeated the Persians is on a hill near the neighboring village Kish; it's called "Gelesen Goresen," literally, "Come and See."

We went down to the bazaar and caught a bus (which was loaded to capacity with people on laps) to Kish. We got off at the edge of the city and began hiking in the direction of the fortress, passing a few locals engaged in the micro-logging trade. We hiked and hiked and hiked and hiked and couldn't find it; we came but we did not see. It was a nice day of hiking in the beautiful Caucasus mountains though. The only unpleasant part was dealing with a few soldiers apparently guarding the border to the Russian province of Dagestan! That's how lost we got!

Hungry and tired from our day of hiking, we headed back into town looking for an ancient Alban church. The Albans were a Christian civilization that disappeared followed the invasions of Arabs, Persians, and Turks and this church was supposedly founded in the first century. We found the church and found that our tour guide also ran a sort of informal cafe for visitors. We followed her next door to her house where she stuffed us with all sorts of Azeri foods. Her husband happened to be a taxi driver and took us back to Sheki and then kindly helped us with our arrangements to get back to Baku.

A to the Z to the erbaijan Pt. 3: Khansarai

2011-02-09T17:57:00.000-08:00

With some new friends in front of the Khansarai

Scenes depicting the Sheki khan defeating the Persians

The sunset and the exquisite stained glass (for which the region has been famous for for hundreds of years) create some great photos

After arriving and getting situated in Sheki, we went and checked out the walled old city (from around the 17th-18th century). As we hadn't eaten breakfast, we found what seems to be the only cafe in the the old town and had some dolma (ground lamb and rice wrapped in grape leaves with a yogurt sauce; delicious and a favorite of mine) and piti (a Sheki specialty; a sort of lamb and vegetable soup with a large chunk of sheep's fat floating on top; not so delicious).

We then and checked out the Khansarai (Palce of the Khan). This part of the country has always swung back and forth from foreign domination and independence. Part of what I love about the Caucasus is the independent nature of the people. This tiny part of Azerbaijan stood up to the Persian Shah in the 17th century and refused to be subjugated. One enraged Shah sent a message to a Sheki Khan asking who dared defy the might of the Persians, to which the upstart khan replied: "Come and see." After defeating the Persian invaders he built this stunningly beautiful palace.

We went to tour it and I was having a really tough time communicating with our guide as our Russian left a lot to be desired. After quite a few difficult conversations, it became apparent that he spoke better English than Russian! He showed us around the rooms of the small palace and they were absolutely beautiful, especially the room that was decorated with scenes from the khan's victory over the Persians. If you ever make it to Sheki, Azerbaijan, I highly recommend you check out the Khansarai!

A to the Z to the erbaijan Pt. 2: Arrival in Sheki

2011-01-10T18:13:00.000-08:00

Maiden Tower, Baku, Azerbaijan
Congratulating our taxi driver in Sheki

After arriving in Baku, I spent the next day walking down "the Boulevard," a promenade along the Caspian Sea and walking around the old city with our team of teachers. The contrast between the 12th century Maiden Tower and the ambitious, oil-funded modern building projects was absolutely incredible. Later that evening we boarded a night train to the city of Sheki, off in the Caucasus Mountains, where I was going to help facilitate our fall conference/retreat for our teachers. Every time I've been on a train in the former Soviet Union, I've had to deal with drunken louts; this trip was no exception. Because of the jet lag, I wasn't able to sleep at all and stood out in the corridor, looking out the window as we passed through mountains and valleys bathed in moonlight. It was a nice way to spend a sleepless night.

Finally, we arrived in Sheki early in the morning. The train station is about 17 km south of the city, so we had to hire a taxi. There was one taxi driver that met us as soon as we got off the train and was very persistent in trying to get our business. He spoke some Russian, so we arranged a price (about $5). We somehow managed to fit all 5 us and our luggage into his tiny Lada, and away we went. Sort of. We had been driving about 5 minutes when the little Lada shut off and he coasted to the side of the road. One moment, he said. He got outside and checked the engine. Do you need some help, I asked. Thankfully he said no (I'm not exactly the handiest with cars in the best of times, let alone with a Lada after a sleepless night). He then went around to the gas tank and began fiddling with it with a small stick. Are you sure you don't need any help I asked. No, he said, no problem. He assured us it would just be a moment. He got back in and after some more fiddling, and we were off again. Finally, we reached our hotel, which was a very cool old converted carvansaray. We congratulated our driver on being such a good mechanic, posed for a few pictures promoting friendly Azeri-American relations, and promptly went to our rooms for a little nap after the journey.

A billboard for our hotel

The doors/main gate to our hotel

A to the z to the erbaijan Pt. 1: Prep and Arrival

2010-12-22T16:06:00.000-08:00

Part of the responsibilities/perks of my job is that I have to go visit programs during the year, which is great. Another part of my job is knowing the requirements and policies for some of the most frustrating visa regimes in the world, which is not so great. Unfortunately, in the time that I transitioned into my role as the new regional director, the visa regulations went from very easy (you stepped off the plane, payed $140, and got your visa) to nobody-least-of-all-the-consular-officals-knows-what-is-going-on.

So, after getting my Azerbaijani visa beforehand and finally getting my Kazakhstani visa after numerous problems and delays, I was off! Sort of. I left Seattle with Elizabeth to spend a few days with my folks in Redding and celebrate an early Thanksgiving with them. It was a very short visit, but it was great time and I was glad Elizabeth was able to come and spend some more time getting to know my family.

I flew out of Sacramento and connected in Chicago and Frankfurt before finally arriving in Baku, Azerbaijan. Upon arrival I was immediately reminded I wasn't in the US anymore. Passport control wasn't exactly an orderly line, with one lump of people going through the booth for foreign citizens and another lump for Azeri nationals. It was time to leave behind American ideals of fair play and order and embrace the chaos of the CIS: after seeing the Azeri lump of people dwindle down to two or three, I rushed over to that end and figured, with a learned Russian impudence, that the rules wouldn't apply to me. And guess what? They didn't. I passed right through the line supposedly reserved for Azeri nationals and stepped into Azerbaijan. Fortune (and life in the CIS) favors the bold.

Oh, hello, Seattle

2010-12-22T15:04:00.000-08:00

Whenever I mentioned to people I was moving to Seattle, everyone makes a comment about the weather. People wondered how a poor California boy from the second sunniest city in the United States would cope. Pretty well, actually. After living for two years in St. Petersburg (which is roughly the same latitude as Juneau, Alaska), where it was dark 20 hours of the day in winter, with snow on the ground for 5 months solid, with rain and cold winds coming off the Gulf of Finland in the short fall and spring, and record breaking (extremely humid) heat in the summer, a little bit of rain isn't so bad.

So far, I've only been to one of the Man Vs. Food Seattle locations, Red Mill Burgers. Which was, indeed, one of the best burgers I've ever had. Another location, Beth's Cafe, home of the 12 egg omelette, is about a 5 minute drive from my house. Elizabeth and I have been talking about going there for breakfast some lazy Saturday morning. It's funny how those don't really happen for us anymore... I guess we'll have to make it a special point to make it over there. Once my parents make it up here, I want to take them out to the Crab Pot and complete the Man Vs. Food trifecta.

I live at the intersection of three different neighborhoods in northwestern Seattle: Crown Hill, Ballard, and Greenwood. I usually just say Ballard because it's the nicest of the three and one of my roommates is the treasurer of the Ballard Merchants Association; so, I like to give a shout out to Ballard when I can.

Nice Work If You Can Get It

2010-12-22T14:36:00.000-08:00

Let's see where did we leave off? Ah, yes. I'd just moved up to Seattle... Well, I'd started talking to an NGO I'd been involved with before that basically sends English teachers to places normal people don't want to go. I'd be more specific about it, but there's some internet sensitivity issues (if you want to know specifics, I'd love to tell them to you. Just get in touch). The job itself was a perfect fit for me (and I was a perfect fit for it), but there was one problem: it was in LA. Also, add in the factor that was recently affianced and had just moved up there to be close to her and her family. My decision making process had changed. LA was never a place either of us had had any desire to live in, but after a summer of having doors shut we decided to check it out. I started talking to them and basically said if I can distance work from Seattle until we got married, I'm interested. The majority of my work during the fall, winter, and early spring is calling and emailing, and they said that worked for me to distance work until after our wedding in April.

So, I'm now the regional director for our programs in the former Soviet Union (CIS). I spend the fall and winter recruiting new teachers, taking care of teachers already overseas, and visiting administrators of the schools we work with. In the spring and summer I'll be doing team formation and training. Lots of training. Like I said earlier, it's a perfect fit and means I can keep working on projects in the CIS while being able to spend a majority of my time in America. The best of both worlds!

My Poor Neglected Blog

2010-12-22T14:34:00.000-08:00

I've been horrible about updating. That's going to change. Upcoming posts:

1)new job

2)life in Seattle

3)Azerbaijan

4)Kazakhstan

5)Christmas

End of Summer Hiatus

2010-09-03T17:55:00.000-07:00

I've noticed I tend not to write a whole lot during the summer time, so with school starting I guess it's time I started posting again.

Summer recap: came back to Redding for a week and bought a ring; went up to Seattle for a week and gave away that ring to a lovely Miss Elizabeth; came back to Redding for a week and prepared for Elizabeth coming down; Elizabeth came down for a week; went to Germany for my buddy Jared's wedding for two weeks and had the opportunity to hang out with Julian and Amy in Mannheim (Little Istanbul) as well; flew straight into Seattle for a week; came back to Redding and waited anxiously to hear back about several jobs in Seattle for 3 weeks; heard nothing good so went back up to Seattle for a week; while in Seattle heard about a job in LA and started having discussions about that; came back to Redding for a week and got my stuff together to move to Seattle; moved up to Seattle in a house with 3 other guys in Ballard; been here for a week.

Actually, I see now why I haven't posted a whole lot over the summer. That was exhausting just thinking about all that.

Take 'Em All! Take 'Em All!

2010-06-27T17:05:00.000-07:00

One of the reasons I'm really excited to move to Seattle is that I get to be in a city with an MLS team. One of my goals in life has been to live in a city where I can get season tickets for the professional team. I was able to go to some Zenit matches in St. Petersburg, but, I didn't really have the money to go to all the home games and I didn't join any supporters organizations because most of them are nationalistic, hate foreigners, and regularly clash with police. After doing some cursory research on the Emerald City Supporters and the North End Supporters, they look pretty great, aren't nationalists, and no have no recorded history of tearing up chairs and throwing them at police. In fact, there's a group (Gorilla FC) that prides themselves in being decent human beings and have raised money for aid to Haiti and other causes. Another thing I'm excited about is that most of these groups have several indoor and outdoor teams which would be great way to get plugged in up there. If the missus lets me get some tickets, look for me in the Brougham End in the future. Take 'em all, Sounders!

Ch-ch-ch-changes: Turning and Facing the Strange

2010-06-25T22:41:00.000-07:00

Now that I'm home from Russia, I've been wondering what to write about on here. I started writing here because life was changing. Drastically. Life is about to change again. Drastically. And I wanted to keep those interested up on what was going on. So, I'll start with the biggest one: I'm engaged to marry a wonderful young woman, Elizabeth. We met in September, started dating in February, I decided I was going to marry her in April, I landed in America June 2nd, bought a ring June 3rd, and proposed June 7th. Happily, she said yes and we're looking to get married in April.

We're going to be getting married up in Seattle and I'll be moving there, Lord willing, in late July or early August. This is going to be exciting, folks. I really fell in the love the Emerald City on my trip earlier in the month and I can't wait to be a denizen there. I'm not worried about the rain, but I am worried about traffic. Maybe I'll just use public transport. Somehow, I think my experience on Seattle's public transport will be a marked improvement from St. Petersburg's; hopefully, I'll be shouted at a lot less.

It's Time for Me to Get on a Plane...

2010-05-26T13:32:00.000-07:00

Best Russian moments of the last few weeks:

1. The Urinator

Elizabeth and I were walking along the Griboedova Canal on a beautiful, sunny Sunday afternoon and decided to go poke our heads in a souvenir shop in a courtyard just off the street. As we entered the courtyard, we noticed the man five feet to our right was urinating (a not altogether unknown sight in most courtyards/hallways/elevators/any-place-you-can-stand). We kept walking, unsure of how to respond. We poked our heads into the shop, didn't like it, and walked back towards the canal. Our friend, I. P. Freely, was still, somewhat incredibly, heeding the call of nature, nonplussed.

2. Papa Gets Thirsty

We walked past The Urinator back on to the street, and before we could even process Mr. Freely, we were confronted with another sight. A huge, shirtless, deeply sunburned man (with a man purse slung over his shoulder, by the way) stopped in the middle of the sidewalk with his baby and baby stroller, chugging cognac straight from the flask bottle. After some deep swallowing, he let out a sated "Ahhhhhhh..." and then placed his liquor in the diaper bag of the stroller.

3. Breaks and Shortages

The other day I went to go get some food over at a little lunch place across the street from the school. I walked in and was informed they were on their lunch break and I should come back in 5 minutes. Lunch break? They are only open 4 hours out of the day!! I came back in 10 minutes, and saw they were still coming off their break, so I went to the little shop next store to get a coke because the lunch place doesn't sell beverages. Come back in 15 minutes, I was told, they were on their break... Ok, I thought, no big deal, I'll just get myself a little pizza and drink water. I went into the lunch place and asked for a pizza (like I have done once a week for the last 10 months). Sorry, the lady said, no pizza today. This failure of restaurants to have what they advertise on menus is very, very common in Russia. Very common; so common, in fact, that later on that night, when Elizabeth and I went out to Georgian food on Nevsky, both of our first attempts to order were stopped cold by the waiter promptly informing us they didn't have that today.

4. Can't You Help a Brother Out?

There's this attitude that men have here, that may be a left over from Communism, that if you need to buy a beer or cigarettes and don't have any money, then a total stranger should buy them for you. So, while waiting in the metro today for a friend, I thought, since I had a few moments, now would be a good time to put some money on my cell phone account, as I was running pretty low on minutes. As I was in the process of doing this, a boozy gentleman approached me, tapped me on the shoulder, held out his public transport card, and asked if I could help him out and give him some cash so he could put some metro rides on his card. The card he was holding aloft as proof of his noble intent was the one that costs about $50 to put money on. If he really was stranded, he could pull out 22 rubles (about 60 cents) and buy one trip. He wanted money for booze or cigarettes; I have drunks ask me for money about 3-4 times a week, and this attitude that I should give him money for his beer and cigarettes made me go to the trouble of being smart aleck. Here's the exchange that followed:

Supplicant: Can you give me some money so I can charge my card?

Me: (in exaggerated American accent) I... don't...understand... Russian.

Supplicant: (unperturbed) 10 rubles (which is about 30 cents), just give me 10 rubles.

Me: Listen, I'm poor. I NEED those 10 rubles.

Supplicant: Come on, it's 10 rubles, just give me 10 rubles.

Me: You need to to understand, I NEED these 10 rubles. You know what? You should give ME 10 rubles, I'm so poor.

Supplicant: (less confident) Just 10 rubles...

Me: Yes! Just 10 rubles. I NEED 10 rubles. Please, give me 10 rubles. Help me, please.

Supplicant: I... uh...

And with that he turned to walk away.

"I love [Russia] in the springtime, I love [Russia] in the fall."

2010-05-20T22:35:00.000-07:00

Elizabeth and I went to the world famous Mariinsky Theatre on Wednesday to watch 3 famous Russian ballets: Petrouchka, The Firebird, and Scheherazade. It was fantastic and we had a great time and enjoyed the ballets and the experience. It's interesting that the presumably extinct dramatic art of black face is still alive and well in Russia.

It's warmed up and we've had some great weather the last few weeks. Lately the dandelions have been springing up and the city has finally shaken off the shackles of winter. It's been warm; one day it even got up to 80 degrees F. It's funny when it gets this warm here because the wardrobes of most Russians, particularly guys, are a little limited for warm weather and you see some strange fashion choices (and a lot of sandals with socks).

The majority of Russians also seem to have some sort of aversion to deodorant. This, coupled with an understandable lack of AC, makes for slightly more uncomfortable rides on public transport. You know it's warmed up here when you can smell the metro 20 meters before you enter it.

Summer here also means White Nights. Because we are so far north, the sun doesn't go down until around midnight and then there are 2-3 hours of dusk before the sun rises again. After a 5 month long winter, people here go a little crazy in the summer and will stay up all night walking around the city, soaking up every last drop of UV rays they can absorb. Interestingly, the Russian verb for "to tan" is the same as "to sunburn." I guess Slavs don't differentiate between the two. It's a little disconcerting to be out around 11 PM and the whole city is as busy as it was during the 11 AM (busier, in fact).

Drivin' That Hot Rod Lincoln

2010-05-02T16:55:00.000-07:00

The other day Elizabeth and I went to dinner with Jared and his family. Jared's dad, Kevin, has been here since '96 and is something of a legend. I don't know where to begin to describe him. I'll start by saying he has a car. Having a car means having to deal with the traffic police. Usually when one gets pulled over, the policeman comes up to the car and asks you to step into his car where things can be worked out "unofficially." This is usually the best option, if not exactly the most honest one, because a bribe will be cheaper and would cut down on the bureaucratic nightmare that comes with a ticket. Now, there are a lot of stories about Kevin dealing with the traffic police, but my favorite is this one: After being pulled over for an illegal u-turn, the traffic cop approached his car and told him he was going to confiscate his license. This was a ploy to make Kevin afraid and encourage him to pay him a bribe. Kevin responded for him to go ahead and take it. He then jerked his thumb at his wife in the passenger seat and said he wished his license WOULD get taken away because SHE was always making him drive when he didn't want to. PLEASE take my license, he said. The traffic cop must have decided that making Kevin drive was punishment enough, so he let Kevin continue on his merry way.

All of that was just a setup to what happened the other day. Elizabeth and I went with Jared and his family to dinner before going to the school's drama performance. On the way there we got stuck in traffic, and Kevin did what any Russian would do. He made in illegal turn on to a one-way street to zip around the congestion. Unfortunately, there was traffic cop waiting for someone making just such a maneuver. He pulled Kevin over, approached the car, and asked for Kevin's documents. He asked Kevin if he wanted to step into his car to take care of this matter, but Kevin said for him to just write up the ticket and that he would wait right here for it. The traffic cop seemed a little disappointed with this response and went back to his car to write up the ticket for the next 45 minutes. He finally returned and started explaining to Kevin what he needed to do. It was something of a comic scene with Kevin, who didn't want to make us late for the play trying to hurry him, repeatedly trying to grab the ticket out of the policeman's hand and the policemen snatching it back and keeping it just out of reach while he finished explaining. Towards the end of his spiel, Kevin asked him if he just wanted to show him mercy and let him go. The policeman started laughing and said that he tried but Kevin told him to just give him the ticket. Kevin said, well, ok, let's take care of it right now. The policeman laughed and counted all 5 of us in the car and said there were too many witnesses. Kevin assured him that we didn't speak Russian and we all laughed, bang on cue, thus ruining Kevin's gambit.

Catching a Car

2010-04-22T08:11:00.000-07:00

There's a lot of ways to get around St. Petersburg, but the strangest to me is catching a car. Russians call them "unmarked taxi cabs." Basically, any private car is an "unmarked taxi cab." So, to catch a car, you stand on the side of the road and hold out your arm in a 45 degree angle and see who stops. A car will stop and you ask if he's going your way, negotiate a price, get in, and away you go.

My colleague John had been giving me a hard time about having never caught a car. You have to do it at least once before you go, he said. My hesitancy to do so in the past can be put down to two factors: my clumsiness in using large numbers (and thus my inability to negotiate a price in Russian) and the potential awkwardness of riding in complete stranger's car, not knowing the proper etiquette for the situation.

So, the other day, John, Jared, and I decided to go hang out after school at Petrogradskaya (a different district of the city from the school) and the fastest way was to catch a car. Jared grew up here in St. Pete and is a veteran of catching cars; John has been doing it since the mid-90's. In order for me to get the proper experience, John only held out his arm to try and catch one of the old beat up Ladas. Within about 2 minutes an old beat up Lada Zhiguli stopped and the driver opened up the door and asked where we were heading. John told him and agreed to 300 rubles (about $9). The front passenger seat wasn't bolted down and gave John a bit of a start when he got in; the windshield was on it's last legs after sustaining some pretty extensive cracks; no seat belts in the back seat. In short, a proper Zhiguli, a proper experience for the first time catching a car. The driver occasionally spoke on his cell phone, but never spoke a single word to us. At first I didn't know if it was rude to speak in English with John and Jared, but it became apparent that we were nothing more than cargo, so we went for it. Apparently, it's completely normal to not exchange a single word and completely normal to have your ear talked off.

Catching a car really wasn't that big of a deal. In fact, it's main significance was that it was one more thing to cross of my things to do before I leave Russian at the end of May. The only thing left on my list is to see a ballet at the Mariinsky Theatre, but I'm going to take Elizabeth on the 19th to see some Stravinsky and Rimsky-Korsakov pieces.

The Metro

2010-04-06T11:01:00.000-07:00

Were the Moscow metro bombings a big deal for you? They were here. Last Monday, I woke up and checked the news like I always do and saw that there had been an attack on the metro in Moscow during rush hour. Having been on the Moscow metro during rush hour, I could only imagine the chaos; it's the 2nd busiest metro system in the world with something like 9 million people riding it ever day. I turned on my TV to see what the Russian channels were saying about it; nothing. If you wanted to know what was going on in the Moscow metro you had to have BBC or CNN International. No interruption of programming for the whole day.

I was on the St. Petersburg metro that afternoon and there wasn't any sort of extra police presence or anything like that, but I noticed everyone was a little jumpy. At one stop, I noticed nobody was coming into my metro car. I looked at the doorway and saw why: a bag of trash was lying in the doorway. From my view I could see it was just a few empty beer bottles, but from the outside it's a suspicious bag and better just move on to the next door.

The next day, I noticed there was an increased police presence. Apparently, word had finally filtered down from the top that there needed to be some sort of response to show the people. I read this from a Russian pundit, "It's not enough that the authorities treat us like cattle, but now we must die like cattle too." So, a show of more police officers and detainment of anyone entering the metro who looked like they might be from the Caucasus region happened. Now, I'm normally not the biggest fan of Russian police, but, full credit to them, they looked like they were taking their jobs seriously and wanted keep the public safe. This week, however, the police officers assigned to metro duty are a little less vigilant (they sit on benches and text).

So, while the metro might be a place of fear, being crushed like cattle, and racial profiling, it does have it's moments. The other night I was coming home late so it wasn't too crowded. While walking to my platform I passed an old lady selling flowers. Normally this place smells of stale beer, cigarette smoke, and body odor, but that night it smelled like a florist's shop. To complete the scene, there was an old man serenading passersby with Russian folk songs on his accordion. In her better moments, that is Russia: the scent of flowers and the sound of music.

Unpleasant

2010-03-29T04:52:00.000-07:00

Russia: land of the never-ending Lada car alarm. Why won't it stop!?

Typical...

2010-03-26T07:50:00.001-07:00

Today I decided to go get a shaverma/shuarma for dinner (think a Muslim burrito). There's a little cluster of kiosks a few minutes walk from my apartment. I didn't have any cash, so I needed to stop by an ATM, Russia being a cash only culture. Fortunately, there happens to be one on the way to the kiosks.

So, off I went to go get cash and get dinner. I told my roommate I'd be back in five minutes. The ATM on the way? Not operational for whatever reason. Most ATM's here are non-operational every other day it seems like. Ok, so I just had to walk a little farther to find one that worked. No big deal. Went and got cash and walked over to the market area where the kiosks are and discovered the whole market was closed and everything was boarded up. As a way of explanation there was a sign: "CLOSED." 0 for 2. It probably got shut down by the police for a.) too many illegal immigrants working there; b.) too many nefarious characters about doing nefarious deeds; c.) health code violations; d.) all of the above.

I ended up just going grocery shopping and coming home to cook after about an hour.

Moscow Pt. 2

2010-03-13T21:58:00.001-08:00

top: riding third class

middle top: Starlite Diner, take two

middle bottom: Red Square (the stuff on the left is the ice skating rink they set up in the winter)

bottom: the Cossacks playing some tough D

I went to Moscow for the second time in one week to go as a chaperone for my school's basketball team for two tournaments there. We went on the night train and it was the best I've ever slept on a Russian night train. So, I arrived well rested and ready to tackle the Starlite Dine one more time. It was a success. I ate everything. Even the garnish. And 4 cups of coffee; I don't even like coffee, that's how successful it was.

It was a sunny (!) day, so we walked down to Red Square so the boys could take some pictures and we could kill some time. We arrived and placed our bags on some steps near the ice skating rink they set up there in the winter, and the guys went off to go try and see Lenin's body. I'd already seen it, so I stayed with the bags with another teacher, John, and a sick student that just sat down and closed his eyes. I was talking with John and he kept saying how it was only a matter of time until a policeman came up and told us to move our stuff. Why? Because it's Russia. Soon a policeman strolled over and told us we could sit there with our stuff, but nobody could sleep. So, our sick kid opened his eyes and that seemed to satisfy him, so he continued on his way. The rest of our group came back and everyone was just hanging out and John came up to me and said, "Look how many Koreans are in our group [Russian police are extremely racist], look at what a good time the kids are having. Russians can't stand us. We're gonna see another policeman."

Sure enough, two policemen immediately made their way over to us and told us, very politely, that we needed to go to wherever it was we were going and clear out. So, we got kicked out of Red Square. How many other people can say that? Later on that same day, we had to wait in the metro for our host families to come pick us up and a policeman came and told us our group was too big and we had to disperse. Again, this is largely due to the fact of the large number of Korean boys we have on our team and racist police.

Jared and I ended up staying with a host family from the Moscow Christian school as well. We really lucked out because it was a business family. Their apartment is the nicest one I've seen in Russia, their Filipina helper cooked us incredible meals, and their driver took us to all of our games. No public transport for us. It was nice to live la dolce vita, if only for a few days.

The boys played six games and ended up winning two of them, thus making it the most successful season in IA Cossacks basketball history. So, we headed back to St. Pete on another night train. This trip back was not as restful for me for a number of reasons:

1) the really talkative, slightly drunk Ukranian guy that wanted to chat

2)the two Russian guys that wouldn't chat with him and forced him to talk to me

3) the two girlfriends of the Russian guys that were very loud all night and sat on my bunk while I was trying to sleep

4) the heat didn't work in our car, which meant it was about 32 degrees F the whole night.

Moscow Pt. 1

2010-03-07T23:29:00.000-08:00

I went to Moscow at the end of February to take the Foreign Service Officer exam. Elizabeth went with me and we tried to purchase tickets next to each other on the overnight train, and we did... sort of. We were next to each other but she was on the other side of a wall. In my section of the train, there was a girl that did not shut up the whole night, and I didn't sleep very well.

We got into Moscow pretty early on Saturday morning and we took the metro to the city center to Starlite Diner, a place done up like an American diner and offering the same fare. Out of all the food from back home that I miss, Mexican and diner food top the list. And since someone here will make Mexican food periodically, my desire for diner food went unfulfilled until this trip to Moscow. The tragedy was that I was so keyed up for my test later that day that I didn't have much of an appetite. After breakfast, we went down to Red Square and took some pictures. This was an important day for me, because it was the first time I gave lip to Russian police. The circumstances are difficult to explain, but, basically, I wanted to walk past a barricade and they wouldn't let me. We went into Lenin's tomb and the whole thing was just bizarre. It's set up in a way that your supposed to feel reverential and worshipful, but the whole thing is just a ridiculous spectacle. Lenin himself is in pretty poor shape, due to the incompetency of the embalmers, and so he's probably nothing more than a glorified wax candle at this point. Also, along this side of the Kremlin, many foreign Communists (John Reed, for example) and notable citizens (Stalin, Dzerzhinksy, Gagarin) are buried in and under the wall.

We then made our way to the US Embassy where I took the test. Elizabeth went to Arbat Street (where there is a Starbucks) to wait for me to finish. I think I did really well on the test. I think. We'll find out in about a month, but for right now, I think I passed it. After the test, I had this huge weight lifted off of me; up until that point, I had no idea I was that nervous about it. I then made my way over to Arbat Street and met with Elizabeth and a friend of hers from college who is living in Moscow. We spent the evening hanging out with other Americans who were there teaching English and then got back on another night train and got back to St. Petersburg early Sunday morning.

This country's going to the dogs...

2010-03-03T07:42:00.000-08:00

I went to Moscow last weekend to take the FSO exam. I'll write more about that and post a few pictures, but I'm actually headed out the door (to Moscow again, as it happens, as a chaperone for the basketball team's tournament there). Before I do, however, I needed to share two things:

First, I have a 15 year old Korean student that, up until two weeks ago, had never pet a dog in his life. My friend Jared had to teach him how to do it, as he was poking it with 4 fingers and thought that he was petting it.

Second, about a month ago, my friend John went to go the post office to pick up a Christmas package from his in-laws for his family. The longer you live here in Russia, the more terrible post office stories you have. There is a special hatred for the post office that most expats carry around with them here, and for good reason. While there, they were incredibly rude to him; at one point while he was trying to ask a question, a lady shouted at him to "stop his jaw," which is the Russian version of "shut up." The reason he was asking a question was because he received a slip saying he need to pick up a package, but when he arrived they curtly told him his paperwork wasn't right and it wasn't ready. He went back yesterday because he received another slip. So, he went and picked it up, somewhat surprised at how light this 9 kilogram package was. He got home to discover the post office workers had picked through everything, mainly the Christmas cookies (who steals month old Christmas cookies? bizarre) and the packages of chap stick (which is impossible to get here). The reason why his package wasn't ready the first time was because they hadn't picked through it yet. So, basically, they shouted and were rude to him because he disturbed them while they were in the process of robbing him. That made me laugh so hard this morning I'm not sure it was good for me.

The Last Bus

2010-02-23T10:24:00.000-08:00

My parents wanted pictures of what it looks like on public transport here in St. Petersburg. It's been too cold to take my hands out of my gloves to operate a camera, so I'll share this video from Youtube.

The song playing is "Midnight Trolley Bus" by Bulat Okudzhava, a famous Soviet singer-songwriter. It's a beautiful song and captures that feeling of being on the bus late at night here in St. Petersburg. I'd post the English translation but it would just sound goofy. He's basically singing that when he's feeling down, he likes to catch the midnight bus (midnight is when public transport stops, so it's the last bus) and he likes how the bus picks up all those who are wrecked and need a rescue. In the silence and stillness on the bus he imagines so much kindness. I told you it would sound goofy. It's not exactly my feelings about public transportation here, but, hey, it's something.

My Second Maslenitsa

2010-02-22T08:28:00.000-08:00

Last week was Maslenitsa, think Fat Tuesday, Russian style. It's my second Maslenitsa here in Russia, you can read about my first here. It's the beginning of the Lenten season in Russia, but it looks a little different here. As I came home from work on Friday (the 12th) I found that there was a stage set up in the park in front of my apartment building with a man dressed up as a court jester leading a large group of children in traditional Russian dances. He would shout, "Now spin around! Faster! Faster!" This mass of children, all hopped up on sugar and loud noises, would follow his every command: "Now jump on one foot! Faster! Faster!"

It looked like a lot fun and they had kiosks selling pancakes, crepes, and other sugary sweets and there were all sorts of games set up all over the small park. I was thinking about heading into the park and joining in the festivities when I noticed who was putting it on: the ruling party of Russia. This whole carnival was being put on by the ruling party (whose name I won't type so I can keep my visa a few more months); the whole thing was a ruling party youth rally. It struck me a little like the Roman emperors putting on the games to get people to like them. I didn't join in the fun, for political reasons, and I was glad I didn't, because as I got into my apartment, from which I can hear every sound coming from the park, they began doing the Chickie Dance song. A narrow escape.

I guess I just wasn't in the holiday spirit. I'm not really fond of Maslenitsa. I like the whole eating pancakes tradition, that's great, but then they also do this thing where they have a bonfire and burn a "Lady Maslenitsa" effigy. It's kind of a pre-Christian Russian tradition about the end of winter and the coming of spring. The thing is, though, is that it is still about 5 degrees F outside. Winter hasn't ended. It was -15 F with wind chill the other day. So, what is this hopping about in the snow and eating pancakes? It's forced merriment, really. Forced by the ruling party. I'll celebrate the end of winter when it gets up to 40 F.

It's February, It's Still Cold

2010-02-21T03:03:00.000-08:00

It looks like it's been a while since I last updated. I guess the main reason I haven't has been that not that much has changed. It's still cold. Really cold. Like -15 F cold.

Last week was pretty interesting. On Monday we discovered that about 20-30% of the students were at home sick, another 20-30% probably should have been home as well, and two kids threw up in the first period alone. This, coupled with half the high school being gone the second half of the week (basketball team had a tournament in Budapest) led to the decision to call school for the rest of the week. I've spent this week mostly in my home trying desperately not to get sick, getting sick, and then staying sick.

Next Friday I'll be heading off to Moscow on the night train. I'll be taking the Foreign Service Officer Test at the embassy there. If I pass the test, the essay questions, the interview in DC, and a posting opens up, I could be working in a US consulate or embassy this time next year. However, all those ifs are pretty big ifs. But even if I don't pass the test (like 80% of first time takers), I'll at least have a little time in Moscow.

It's Russia, It's Cold

2010-01-22T23:44:00.000-08:00

The other day, our science teacher figured out that it was -34.6 degrees F with the wind chill factored in. That's cold.

My buddy gave me ride in his car to the bank. I hopped out at the ATM, got my money, came back, and couldn't shut the door because the latch had frozen. We drove back with me holding the door closed.

A falling icicle killed someone the other day.

While walking home the other night, it was so cold I wanted to sit down and cry, but then I figured my eyes would freeze shut and then my organs would slowly start shutting down and I would die; I kept on walking.

Russians love ice cream in the winter. I think because you can walk around with it for half an hour and it won't melt. It will actually get harder, like my heart when it gets this cold.

IASP Christmas Concert

2010-01-21T10:43:00.001-08:00

If you want to watch the IA Christmas concert, click here. It takes place on the third floor (where the secondary classrooms are) of our new building. Behind the advanced band (pt. 1) is my classroom; also, you will get a chance to see the IASP headmistress. If you think she's speaks a little slowly, remember two things: she's from Texas and over half of the audience is Korean.

In pt. 2 you will see the lower elementary perform Mele Kalikimaka. It was my idea that they do this. I thought it would provide a nice counterpoint to frigid St. Petersburg winter. I was pleased to see that the parent who filmed this and put it up on YouTube edited out the boring parts of the performance. Well played.

Skip pt. 3; it's kids signing "Jingle Bells." In pt. 4 the older elementary kids get into the act. Pt. 5 has highlights of Beginning Band (which consists of basically the entire jr. high).

Pt. 6 is the Secondary Choir (which is over half of the entire high school and jr. high). So, if you are wondering what the student body of IASP consists of, this is the place to see it. In pt. 7, 4 seconds in, you get a glimpse of Kevin, one of the guys I go play pool with every now and then. In addition to Kevin, you get to see the Advanced Band. And they are good. Very good. One of the girls plays for the St. Petersburg Youth Orchestra. They handle that Tchaikovksy medley pretty well. The crowd gets into the act in pt. 8. That one guy you hear singing above everyone else is John, the other history teacher.

I hope this gives you a little idea of what the school looks like.

"April Come She Will"

2010-01-21T09:41:00.000-08:00

The view outside my bedroom window.

The Recalcitrant

2010-01-19T08:44:00.000-08:00

Well, the winter mix:

1. Chat in Amerstdam, Winter 2003 - Arab Strap

2. Raglan Road - Luke Kelly and the Dubliners

3. Moonshiner - Bob Dylan

4. M62 Song - The Doves

5. Got You Down - Paul Westerberg

6. 1926 - Thalia Zedek

7. Silver Stallion - Cat Power

8. Piece of Wood - Youth Group

9. When I Was a Young Girl - Feist

10. Good Deeds - Owen

11. Gospel - The National

12. 9 Crimes - Damien Rice

13. Jesus - Brian Jonestown Massacre

14. Eisler on the Go - Billy Bragg and Wilco

15. Tonight I Will Retire - Damien Jurado

16. In My Time of Dyin' - Bob Dylan

17. No Cities Left - The Dears

18. Thin Blue Flame - Josh Ritter

So, this is, indeed, the New Year

2010-01-06T12:17:00.000-08:00

(top: back in the Frozen North)

(middle: Medvedev with his New Year's address)

(bottom: fireworks in the park, note the haze of gunpowder)

I got back from Germany on the 30th, because I wanted to be sure to be here in St. Pete for New Year's. Russia (St. Petersburg and Moscow in particular) goes wild on New Year's. It's like Christmas, New Year's, Thanksgiving, and a few other Western holidays all rolled in to one. I returned to a city that winter had laid siege to. The city hasn't had this much snow since 1881, and, since it won't melt off until March/April, there's simply no place for it to go; add on that it all the snowplow drivers and street cleaners are on holiday already...

I had plans to go to Palace Square and ring in the New Year there, but I didn't really have anyone to go with, and if there's one thing I learned in Germany, it's that experiences are best when they're shared. So, I went to a New Year's party that some American friends put on (with the help of a few nationals, of course, to make it a real Russian New Year's party). I was really glad I did, because we had a great time.

In Russia, you don't "watch the ball drop"; you watch the president give his New Year's address. When he finishes, the camera than shows Moscow's equivalent of Big Ben ringing midnight. Now, as soon as you hear the bells, you write down your New Year's wish, light it on fire, throw the ashes (and half-burnt paper) into your glass of champagne, and then down it. If you are able to do it before the clock stops chiming then you will get your wish. After you eat your New Year's dinner, you go outside for a walk (a walk? at night? in the snow? with the deadly icicles about to fall from every building?). The 7 of us went out to light a few fireworks in the park. Now when Russians do fireworks in the park, we're not talking sparklers or bottle rockets, we're talking huge boxes of gunpowder shooting into the sky, shaking windows and setting off car alarms. Once we got that out of our systems we headed back to continue our dinner.

We ran out of drinks about halfway through, so I went down to a little shop I noticed was still open when we set off our fireworks. I went in and wished the man and woman inside a happy new year. One asked me where I was from. I said America. Wow, the man said, and simply held out his hand to shake mine. He shook my hand heartily and told me that he was from Azerbaijan, from Baku. Great, I said. What state are you from, he asked me. California, I said, as he still shook my hand heartily. Wow, he said, great, as he continued to shaking my hand. After getting a few drinks and wishing everyone happy a new year again, I left for the short walk back to the party. Only on New Year's would anyone want to shake hands with an American. Only on New Year's would anyone even care to ask.

As I was walking back, the street was full with people out walking and celebrating. I noticed one particular gentleman who appeared to be a little sauced and appeared to be stumbling my way. I tried to get out of his way, but with so much snow piled high on the curb there was simply no way to avoid him. He reached me and embraced me. Happy New Year, he shouted into my ear as he kissed my cheek (which is then traditionally followed by a second kiss on the cheek). Happy New Year, I returned, as he kissed my other cheek (which is then traditionally followed by a third kiss on the lips if you are really happy to see that person). He went for the third kiss on the lips, but I was culturally insensitive and his third kiss was met with my cheek again. Finally, after a few more "Happy New Year's," he let me go. It was quite a night and my roommate and I didn't get back to our place until around 5 in the morning. Russians just really, really like New Year's.

Impossible Germany (Pt. 3)

2010-01-03T04:54:00.000-08:00

One of the nice things about this trip to Germany was that we always had access to a car. Julian's dad works for Mercedes and signs cars out to test. Most of the time we were zipping along the autobahn in a little black sports car, but when we needed another car, Julian's dad signed out a 2011 M class SUV that he had helped design for the weekend. He works at the headquarters in Stuttgart. The headquarters and plant there is about the size of a small city. One of the buildings in the city is the Mercedes Museum, which we went to Sunday afternoon. I'm not much of a car guy, but the museum was very cool. They did a great job incorporating world and German history with automotive and Mercedes history.

On Monday we drove out to Ludwigsburg to go see the Swabian version of Versailles, Ludwigsburg Palace, and walked around a bit.

Tuesday was the day that we left for Frankfurt for Julian's grandfather's 80th birthday. This was by far the most awkward part of the trip, with all of his children and friends in one place and Amy and I just smiling and trying not to be awkward, but it was still a good time. And the food was incredible, absolutely incredible. Right after we arrived at his grandparents' home, the city choir came by to sing for him. Then, after eating, we immediately headed to this restaurant for the actual dinner. I think about half of the 20+ people there had no idea who I was or what I was doing there, but Julian's grandmother was very sweet and is hilarious so it wasn't too bad. Then, after eating, we headed back to their house for more food. Since I was flying out of Frankfurt early the next morning we spent the night there, and I was relieved to have an opportunity to lie down and not have to eat anything.

Impossible Germany (Pt. 2)

2010-01-01T11:20:00.000-08:00

top: walking around the old town in Esslingen

middle: the cathedral in Strasbourg

bottom: Julian, Jared, and I in the old town in Strasbourg

On Christmas Day Julian, Amy, and I we went and walked around Esslingen. It's a nice little city on the Neckar River and has an old town and a castle overlooking the city. The day after that we drove to Strasbourg, France, to go hang out and meet up with my friend Jared and his fiancee. This EU thing is weird; I didn't even need to bring my passport with me. The old town in Strasbourg is actually an island in the middle of the Ill River. The best site there is the Notre Dame Cathedral of Strasbourg. It's pretty impressive and was even the tallest building in the world for over 200 years. We had a lot of fun just hanging out and walking around.

On Sunday we went to the cathedral in Esslingen to hear a performance of Bach by the city orchestra. After the service and performance, we walked around Esslingen a bit more. Julian's parents own an apartment in the old town and rent it out. Julian jokingly asked his mom if they would kick out the current tenants if he and Amy got engaged and wanted to live in it. Without hesitation she said, "Ja, ja..."

Impossible Germany (Pt. 1)

2009-12-31T07:32:00.000-08:00

Top: melting a cone of sugar into the Christmas gluwein.

Bottom: Christmas Eve dinner with Amy, Simon, and Jurgen

I left December 23rd for Germany. I didn't have enough money to go home this year, and it would just have been too depressing to be in a country that didn't recognize anything significant on the 25th. So, I had a friend in Germany and I bought my ticket; fortunately, his girlfriend, Amy, is one of my good friends from back home and she flew out too. I had a great time spending Christmas with people that knew me already. I love my friends in St. Petersburg, but there's just something to be said for friendship that has history.

I flew in with my buddy, Jared, who works at the same school I do. His girlfriend lived in the same region and on the 24th he left us and surprised her with a ring. In Germany, Christmas Eve is the where most of the celebrating takes place. I went to church with Julian's family and it was great: it could have been my church back home (except for the whole speaking German thing). We then came back and had a 5 course dinner prepared by Julian's uncle who is an incredible chef. Afterward, we opened up presents and did a few family traditions. The party went well into the night and I had no problems falling asleep that night.

As a concession to my friends who prefer Twitter-size postings, I decided to break up this trip in to several different posts. You people make me sick.

Baksov

2009-12-15T09:05:00.000-08:00

An interesting conversation on the bus today:

Man: Do you know the name of this bus stop?

Me: No, I'm a foreigner.

Man: Oh, really? Where are you from?

Me: From America.

Man: America?! Wow, you must be very rich then!

Me: Haha, no.

Man: You must have tons of "baksov" (the Russian declension for "bucks").

Me: Haha, no.

Man: Well, come on then, give me some so I can go drink a beer.

Me: I'm sorry. I didn't understand.

Man: Give some "baksov" so I can go drink a beer.

Me: I'm sorry. I didn't understand.

Man: 'Baksov', like rubles. Give me some rubles so I can drink a beer.

Me: Oh, I did understand you. Sorry, haven't got any.

Fortunately, at this awkward point in the conversation the bus pulled up to my stop and I got off.

Crossing [Tuchkov Bridge] (shamelessly stolen from the Good Gray Poet)

2009-12-06T11:17:00.000-08:00

Crowds of men and women attired in the usual costumes! how curious you are to me!
On the [Tuchkov Bridge], the hundreds and hundreds that cross, returning home, are more curious to me than you suppose;
And you that shall cross from shore to shore years hence, are more to me, and more in my meditations, than you might suppose.	5

A Man's Home Is His Castle

2009-12-05T11:36:00.000-08:00

Maybe it's the that mysterious leak from the wall when you do dishes for longer than 5 minutes, or the way the hall electrical outlet has melted the Russian-made extension cord, or the the electrical outlet that you can't use because if you pull the plug out the outlet comes with it. Maybe it's the window in the kitchen that you can't open because it was installed wrong or the washing machine that you have to hit in a certain spot to get it to start, or the pile of wet laundry on the floor waiting to be hung up on the drying rack that takes up most of my room. Maybe it's the toilet seat that refuses to stay up (and the ridiculous cost of buying of a new toilet seat. can one purchase a second-hand toilet seat somewhere?) or the hot water heater that requires you to manually adjust the temperature because the last repair man that came and fixed it advised us to do it that way rather than using the cold water at the same time to adjust the temperature. Or is it the cleaning lady that your landlord forced you to hire who comes once a month, wipes the counters in the kitchen, clogs the shower drain (?), and takes $20 from you? Maybe it's the dog that lives next door that barks at any movement on the stairwell. Maybe it's the other neighbors that smoke in the stairwell because it's too cold to go outside (which causes the dog to bark even more). Some might say it's the window over the park where large groups of young men gather late at night to drink, shout, light off fireworks, and urinate; all right underneath your window.

What is it that actually makes an apartment "crappy"?

Retreat

2009-12-01T10:44:00.000-08:00

We had a winter retreat for the high school and jr. high. I was one of the teachers that went along. I spent 70+ straight hours with my students... It was rough, but I made it. We had it just outside the city at the Finnish Theological Seminary. Once again, I stand impressed at the quality of all things Finnish. I think this is a common feeling of expats living in Russia: Finland = Good.

"Bus Comes, Bus Goes"

2009-11-23T06:38:00.000-08:00

The bus stop in front of my school is the worst one in the entire city of St. Petersburg. Not only is it completely exposed to the elements with no covering, but it's situated almost directly on the Gulf of Finland which is famous for it's cold, cold Arctic winds.

But this is the coup de grace: it is smack dab in front of Porsche dealership. So, every day as I wait for the Number 1 bus that is legendary for its infrequency in howling wind and rain/snow/sleet, I curse Porsche for its lack of sensitivity.

Sunrise, Sunset, Swiftly Go the Days

2009-11-23T06:21:00.000-08:00

Nov. 23rd

Sunrise- 9:15 AM Sunset-4:14 PM

It doesn't get fully light until about 10 AM and it starts getting dark around 3:30 PM. And it's only going to get worse...

Another reason why it's so dark: the weather. The sun has only been visible once in the last four weeks. You might think I am exaggerating. I am not.

All this darkness has different effects on people. A friend of mine theorizes that Russian are only normal for about 4 weeks out of the year: two weeks in spring with 12 hour days and two weeks in fall with 12 hour days. The rest of the time... well, it gets ugly. So far, I've noticed the darkness makes me hungry and sleepy. I think humans that live this far north (roughly the same latitude as Juneau; a little farther north actually) should be allowed to hibernate. I take two naps a day: once on the bus going to work and once on the bus coming back from work (it's dark outside during both). Napping on public transport is fairly common activity here. My first year I wasn't confident enough to do it here. I was afraid someone would try to pickpocket me, that I would be impolite, or that I would miss my stop. Basically, I don't carry anything around worth stealing, so being pickpocketed isn't a problem. I usually find a spot in a corner so I don't block anybody in, so I'm not being impolite. I used to worried about missing my stop, but now that I've travelled this route so often, I can, quite literally, make the trip in my sleep.

Gopniki

2009-11-22T11:06:00.000-08:00

I learned a new word the other day: "gopnik." Basically, it's a type of belligerent Russian white trash. You can look it up here for more details. I've seen these guys everywhere, but I didn't know there was an actual word for them; I've just been calling them "muzhiki" ("peasants").

So, last week I was going to dinner with my buddy Max when we walked past a group of gopniki (plural; of course, guys like this always travel in packs) on a corner. I wasn't even conscious of noticing them, but now I realize that somewhere in the back of my mind I had taken note of them. Max and I walked past them on the corner and had to orient ourselves, so we looked around and realized we had to go back the other way, past this group of guys. As we started moving in their direction, they started moving in our direction. Again, I had no conscious thought that anything was out of the ordinary, but my sub-conscious Russian threat monitor did.

One of these hooligans decided he didn't much care for my face and resolved to put his cigarette out in it. I dodged out of the way and he only succeeded in melting a piece of my jacket on the shoulder, and, once again, I didn't process any of this. It all occurred at the sub-conscious Russian threat monitor/ evasive action station part of my brain. So, I walked a couple of steps before the rest of my brain caught up and I realized that someone just (drunkenly) tried to cause me some serious harm. I turned around to give him my best hard-man stare and maybe shout a little bit at him... and I saw a group of drunk Russian neanderthals much, much bigger and tougher than me (and much, much, much bigger and tougher than Max). Discretion being the better part of valor, I continued walking and Max hurried to catch up. It ruined Max's night, but, oddly enough, not mine. I happened to be in a particularly good mood about Russia and St. Petersburg that night, and these knuckle-draggers weren't going to spoil it. "Greater things are still to be done in this city."

Veliky Novgorod

2009-11-16T05:56:00.000-08:00

I went on one of the field trips for our 9th and 10th graders last Friday. We went to Novgorod, the cradle of Russian civilization. The trip was made down the main St. Petersburg-Moscow highway, the M10. The road conditions in Russia are a source of constant misery/humor. This highway is probably one of the most well-kept, but we were traveling in heavy snow fall with 2-3 inches of slush already on the ground. The interesting thing about this highway is that it is 3 lanes: 1 lane for those going to Moscow, 1 lane for those going to St. Petersburg, 1 lane for those going to eternity. The middle lane is for passing, but, as far as I can gather, there's no real rule on who yields. Basically, if you think you got it, you go for it. Our driver went for it; he seemed intent on setting a new land record. The other teacher on the trip (who was becoming increasingly concerned about the amount of time spent in the middle lane) leaned up front and reminded the driver that we had plenty of time. The driver nodded and put the minibus into gears I didn't even know it had and plowed through the snow, zooming past the more timid drivers.

We arrived in Novgorod with plenty of time and toured the ancient marketplace and saw a statue to the most famous resident of Novgorod, Sadko. We then headed over to the other side of the river to the Novgorod kremlin. Novgorod is famous for 2 things in Russian history: it crowned the first king of the Rus in the 9th century and for the Cathedral of Holy Wisdom, the oldest surviving church in Russia (and oldest building in Russia still in use).

We then went out to a wooden village open air museum. Open air means cold. During the Communist period, several peasant log cabins and wooden churches were moved to this site. The wooden church pictured above is from the 17th century with the top half being almost completely original. It's pretty impressive.

Due to the snow plows out on the road, the ride back to St. Petersburg wasn't as exciting.

Response

2009-11-11T11:52:00.000-08:00

You can find my response to the previous post here.

Akhmatova Again

2009-11-11T10:57:00.000-08:00

Give me bitter years in malady,

Breathlessness, sleeplessness, fever.

Both a friend and a child and the mysterious

Gift take away forever-

Thus I pray after Your liturgy

After many exhausting days,

That the cloud over dark Russia

Become the cloud in the glory of rays.

-"Prayer," Anna Akhmatova

As I wrote in an earlier post, I've been struggling with a question lately: is there any hope for Russia or not? Some days I think that these people are cracked; they have destroyed what little goodness there was in their society a long time ago. Other days, I wonder... I was talking about this with a colleague of mine and he said that without Christ there really is no hope for this country. At the time I thought, of course he'd say that; he has to say that. That's the usual "Sunday school" type answer, but then I started thinking about it. The more I thought about it, the more profound it became. If anything is going to change here (and believe me, there are many things that need to be changed), it will not take root unless it is rooted in the Light. Do I have faith that Russia will take up its mat and walk? I certainly hope I do, but do I long for that day when the dark clouds over Russia turn to brilliant rays of sunshine?

Today, I read this poem by Akhmatova. It's a devastating poem. This was a woman who ached for Russia to be in the Light, who prayed fervently for it. She writes that she would be willing to suffer for years for this. She would suffocate for Russia to walk in the Light. She would never sleep again for Russia to walk in the Light. She would give herself, her child, and her friendships for Russia to walk in the Light. She saw the darkness in Russia: two of her husbands were killed by the Communists, another died of TB (which is still a concern here), she watched as her son was sent to Siberia. She saw the darkness in Russia but still prayed for "the glory of rays."

Can I say this prayer?

Sennaya Ploshchad

2009-11-03T08:48:00.000-08:00

Sennaya Ploschad (Hay Square aka the Hay Market). You can read about it here. It's still a pretty bustling place, with all sorts of little kiosks, tables, and shops. Anyway, the other day I was walking through it and I happened to be walking past a record shop that was blasting "Rock Around the Clock." Here I am walking through Dostoevsky's St. Petersburg with Bill Haley and the Comets providing the soundtrack.

Oh, Fyodor Mikhailovich, you've done it again!

2009-10-27T10:43:00.000-07:00

I've been watching this Russian miniseries on Youtube of Dostoevsky's The Idiot. It's very powerful. The premise of the book is what would happen if a truly Christ-like individual appeared in 19th century Russian society. Because he is so nice, kind, gentle, forgiving and trusting, everyone assumes he is a a half-wit; an idiot.

Check it out here if you are interested. It has English subtitles. It's difficult to say if it would be as powerful if you haven't read the book, but I trust it would be.

Crooked Doctors, Cloak and Dagger

2009-10-27T09:31:00.000-07:00

I returned to the medical center to pick up my booklet and was met by the same Deep Purple-loving doctor. He took me around and asked me how my life in Russia was. It's like a fairy tale, I said (I've found this to be a good response; people are able to interpret it as they want). He interpreted this as very clever sarcasm on my part. He told me how he didn't like living here and that all of his classmates from med school now live and work in the US. He helped me get my medical booklet and then walked me out. As I was about to he leave he told me he was a good doctor and if I ever had any health problems or needed any more tests done I should come to him first and he would take care of me. He then gave me his cell phone number. So, I now have "a guy" I can go to take care of pesky things like official medical checkups.

The time changed here last weekend and it's feeling like winter more and more. I've started reading this book The Charm School by de Mille. It's a fun read about American spies in the Soviet Union in the 1980's. Funnily enough, it's actually helped my attitude about being here in the former USSR. When I try and process everything I see and hear through my Western filter, it causes me so much confusion and stress. Honestly, it's just easier to think of these strange people as "the enemy." Russians are simply different.

Thinking this way also makes every small interaction more interesting. Every successful interaction in society is me getting away with something; meeting "the enemy" and living to tell about it. In the book, of course, there's a conflict between the girl who thinks there is hope for the Russian people and the man who thinks they are just cracked and too far gone. I still haven't made up my mind about where I fall on this.

Warmer Climes and Relieving Times

2009-10-16T12:44:00.000-07:00

It snowed on Monday; not enough to stick very long, but it was enough to signal the beginning of another cold, dark winter. Recently, I've been thinking about where I'm going to be next year. After spending some time in prayer and talking with a few people, I've decided, almost for sure, that I won't be coming back to St. Petersburg next fall. But now the big question: if I'm not in St. Petersburg, where will I be? The short answer is that I plan to be in warmer climes this time next year. The long answer is that I am planning on staying in the US for a bit, but... I may be taking a trip this spring to go check out a school in Central Asia that needs teachers. I'm going with the attitude that I am going back to the US and I will need to be absolutely convinced that Central Asia is where the Lord wants me.

One of the things I will not miss about Russia is the ridiculous amount of bureaucracy that goes in to getting my visa. One of the hoops I have to jump through is I need to get a medical exam to prove I won't be infecting any Russians with my nasty diseases. I wrote about that a while ago. As it turns out, I had to go back to the medical center for round two so I could get my medical booklet.

So, on Tuesday, I returned to the medical clinic armed with a little foreknowledge of what to expect. I had been briefed by my colleagues who had gone already. I knew I was supposed to ask the man who ran the turnstile that I needed a booklet and he would tell me to go downstairs to a certain office. From there, they would fill out some papers, bring me back upstairs where a doctor would administer another blood test and the not-very-nice-man-test. I'm not talking about the "old-man-not-very-nice-test", but the "young-man-other-end-not-very-nice-test" that involves a Q-tip. They don't have Q-tips in Russia; for the test they use a small pipe cleaner. I am not making this up. I had been practicing a few phrases for a while so I could try and talk my way out of this fate worse than death.

I arrived, went into the room, and headed toward the turnstile. But the man wasn't there... already my carefully rehearsed plan was falling apart. I waited. Nobody came up. Finally, I hopped the turnstile into the waiting room (weird, huh?) and waited in line for the receptionist. Again, the plan fell apart as the receptionist was not the usual one (who spoke very good English), but a girl who didn't speak any English. Finally, my turn came and I told her I needed a booklet. She looked at me like I had two heads. She flagged down a passing doctor and he asked me what kind of booklet I needed. I said I didn't know, the medical one. They looked at me like I had 3 heads. They then asked me for several things that I didn't understand.

"Do you have your -somethingblahblah-?"

"I don't think so. I only have this paper (which had my results from my last exam) and my passport."

"But do you have your -somethingelseblahblah-?"

"Probably not. I only have this paper and my passport"

"Well, do have a -blahblahsomethingsomething-?"

"Yes."

After a few more minutes of this, the doctor took me back to his office to examine my paper and passport. Finally, I called the school and asked for our Russian director to talk to the doctor. While we were waiting, the doctor examined my passport. You know how in the new US passports they have picture of buffalo and the Statue of Liberty on the visa pages? Well, the doctor turned to the one that has Mt. Rushmore and told me how he knew this from a Deep Purple album cover he used to have. Is it a natural mountain, he asked? Yes, I said, an artist made it from the mountain. He thought that was pretty cool. Finally, my Russian director came to the phone and communicated that I needed my booklet. Which booklet, he asked? His medical booklet, she said. Ok, he said.

He then took me downstairs to a nurse that started filling out the paperwork for my medical booklet. After a few Russian difficulties (they use very official, technical Russian in these situations of which I know absolutely nothing), we managed to get it all done, and she then told her partner that she's taking me upstairs for the tests. Those heartless crones laughed. They knew what was coming... and so did I. We go back upstairs and tells me to sit down and wait. She went into the doctor's office and I could hear them arguing a little bit. A minute or two later she came out looking very frustrated. The doctor shortly followed and seemed just as unhappy. Great, I think; I don't want this guy in a bad frame of mind when he administers these tests. He motioned me over and took me aside, somewhat conspiratorially.

"I don't need to check anything else on you, do I?"

The phrase I had been practicing all week came out effortlessly:

"No. You don't need to do any more tests. Everything's just fine down there."

"Ok. Come back in a week and I'll give you your medical booklet."

I floated home, my feet barely touching the pavement. I think this doctor was a little lazy and was feeling slightly embarrassed about the language problems. I had already been something of a hassle to him and I think he was running a little behind because of it. The dumb foreigner card plays again!

Post-Modern School of Historiographical Thought

2009-10-11T10:54:00.000-07:00

I was just talking to one of my former students who is now attending school in Finland and he told me about his first day in his history class. The teacher asked what history was. People raised their hands and said the usual comments, and then my former student raised his hand and proceeded to give a post-modern historiographical definition of history. Excuse me for asking, but from what teacher did you get this kind of influence and teaching, he asked. From Mr. S at International Academy of St. Petersburg, my student responded.

This student will be visiting next week and he's supposed to bring me some Dr. Pepper from Finland. I've heard rumors of a shop that sells Dr. Pepper (at an absurd markup) here in St. Petersburg, but it would be quite a trek. Well, it couldn't be worse than having to go all the way to Finland for it...

Short video

2009-10-10T03:39:00.001-07:00

I made a short video this morning with some camera movies from Russia. Spans from the Summer of '07-Spring of '09.

Good morning. Beer or Coffee?

2009-10-05T10:16:00.001-07:00

The question I get the most about Russia is, "Do they really drink vodka all the time?" No, they don't drink vodka as much as we think, but they do remain pickled the whole day. There's a popular saying here that says a beer in the morning means it's your day off. I go to my bus stop at 7:15 AM and I always see at least one guy going to work drinking his first beer of the day. 7:15 AM.

I've asked my Russian friends if this was normal. Oh no, they all assure me, these are very bad people; alcoholics; it is not socially acceptable. Judging by the fact that I see it every day, it's not THAT socially unacceptable. My thought was replace morning alcohol culture with coffee culture. If you were look at a bus/metro stop in the US at 7:15 AM, what would be the most popular beverage present? Coffee, the drug of choice for the proletariat. Want to know why my solution won't work? Opening times. In my part of the city, I've only found one place where you can get coffee to go. It opens at 11. I could get a beer at, literally, any hour of the day and on any street. For example, there is a store called "The Beer House" that opens at 10, a full hour before the only cafe in the Chkalov district that serves coffee to go opens.

I was discussing this with a Russian colleague of mine and I said I was going to start opening up coffee kiosks near the metros. It would never work, she said (half-seriously), the workers would steal money from the till to buy alcohol.

Budapest

2009-10-04T05:47:00.000-07:00

Back from Budpest. Actually, I got back a week ago, but this is the first chance I've had to sit down and write about it. On Tuesday, I flew with 3 of my students to an international Christian school conference in Budapest, Hungary. We got in the night before it started, so on Wednesday morning we headed into the city. The conference was at a camp on a hill on the outskirts of the city so we had to hike a bit to the bus stop (Picture 3). We ending up catching a bus to a metro station and found a Burger King. I was looking for Cinnie-Minnies, but they didn't have them so I had to settle for a breakfast burrito. We walked around the city a bit and then headed back to the conference.

The conference was great. The kids had a really good time meeting kids from all over Europe (Picture 1: a kid from Norway, Czech Rep., and Korea) and I think they learned a lot. They paired the schools up for the week and our partner school was Thames Christian College of London (Picture 2). Their chaperone was a really interesting guy who did his masters thesis on Russian filmmakers.

Even though the weather was perfect (80 degrees, sunny) all week, it was nice to get back to cold, rainy St. Petersburg. My students were met at the airport by their parents and I got a ride home with one of them; it was interesting because they were Korean and couldn't speak English, so Russian was the lingua franca.

Pictures

2009-09-29T08:51:00.000-07:00

Signing Out

2009-09-21T20:12:00.001-07:00

I'll be in Budapest till Saturday.

Another Reason Why I Love My School

2009-09-14T10:16:00.000-07:00

Me talking to my boss today: Hey, Tammy, was I supposed to go to Budapest next week?

My boss, Tammy: Oh yeah, I need to talk to you about that. Here's your schedule. I'll get you your tickets tomorrow.

Turns out I'm chaperoning our participants in an ACSI student leadership conference in Hungary. Now, I know what some of you are thinking: Joel, you would be my LAST choice to chaperone students on an international trip on planes, trains, and automobiles. And you are right. I was last choice. But I'm also the only choice (way to go multiple-entry Russian work visa!). My job of chaperoning is going to be cake, as I'm chaperoning the three best kids in the school. These kids speak multiple languages and play multiple instruments; one was last year's basketball team's leading scorer and another scored the highest possible score one can get on the ACT (I know this because I am the school's ACT supervisor). Oh yeah, and I get to take a week off of school to go relax and hang out in an EU country.

This is St. Petersburg

2009-09-13T10:55:00.000-07:00

I went to another Zenit game. It was a good time. As I walked up to the stadium with my friend we saw one fan up on the roof of an apartment building he then proceeded to "hang" in effigy a member of the opposing teams and unfurled a huge banner saying "Dreams can come true." We were searched a few times as we entered (I was patted down a total of 3 times). Zenit ended up scoring right before the half and the stadium went crazy, with the guy in front of me grabbing me by my jacket and jumping up and down. Zenit scored one more time in the second half. The day got even better as I learned a new bad word in Russian. As we were exiting the stadium one fan, parodying the popular chant "Vperyod za Piter" (Forward for St. Pete!), began to shout "Vperyod za pivom!" (Forward for beer!), and, since alcohol is banned in the stadium, many joined in with him. One of the reason alcohol is banned in the stadium is to prevent crowd trouble. I did notice several Zenit fans at the other end of the stadium tearing up chairs out of their section and throwing them at the riot police guarding their section; I guess the alcohol ban just makes them angry.

New Digs

2009-09-04T10:17:00.001-07:00

This year I'm in a new apartment. It's really a pretty nice place and I even moved a little closer to the school (it's about a 30 minute bus ride from my apartment). I like my new place, but there's just some strange things along with it:

1. Weird Junk

Most of the apartments that foreigners rent here come somewhat furnished already which is great, but what this also means is that you will have, literally, piles of weird junk that has accumulated from the last 10 occupants. In my apartment, we are packed to the gills with weird Russian junk. Below is a picture of doll collection and odd/unusable/commemorative crockery that occupies our foyer/hallway. There's also a large collection of Russian books that belong to the landlord. So, you never know what is junk left by the previous occupant and what is actually being stored there for when they come back.

2. Laundry (Pt. 1)

Below is a picture of my dryer. We were not fortunate enough to get a dryer in this apartment. But considering how our last dryer was deafeningly loud and actually made everything MORE wrinkly, I'm not complaining all the much.

3. Laundry (Pt. 2)

This is our bathroom. That hose you see coming from our washing machine empties into the tub. This can be weird if you are showering while doing a load of laundry. I'm sure there are people that do this in US, but I've never seen it. It's fairly common here, as most apartments were built without washers in mind; that's only for lazy Westerners.

3. WC

This is our toilet (which is in a separate room from the bathroom). The seat does not go up. It's not a huge problem, but it's just one more thing that I've noticed on several occasions here. The nice thing is that the previous occupants decorated our water closet up a bit.

Inner, Inner City, Inner City Pressure

2009-09-02T09:47:00.000-07:00

The second day I got back, I went with my roommate and some of his friends and old students downtown to go hang out. One of the students, Alex, I had met before. I remember him because he was this tall, skinny goth kid with long hair that was wearing leather pants. He's kind of an odd duck. Anyway, we were walking and we heard some music and saw a crowd of people. Oh, it sounds like hip-hop, he said to me. I asked him if he was going to show me some dance moves. He said he might, as he had been studying hip-hop dancing for a while now. I thought it was a joke...

We walked down to the crowd and it was a promotion for Puma and they were inviting people to sign up to participate in dance battles. The group convinced Alex to sign up. He signed up. This is when I realized that he really had been studying hip-hop dancing. He got his chance to dance and proceeded to fling his freakishly long arms and legs at a high rate of speed (presumably to impress the audience). We stayed and watched for a bit and saw some pretty talented amateurs. But then the dance crew rolled up (see picture above). They were fantastic but it's hard to take Slavs break dancing seriously (especially when they're doing their poses and flashing their signs). Bizarre.

Speaking of urban promotions, at the supermarket I go to (Ideya) they always have these weird things going on. You know how in the US beer advertisements usually aren't aiming for "classy"? The same is true here. I walked in to my Ideya and there is this girl standing just inside the door in a skimpy soccer uniform. Her job was to recite a spiel about this beer every time a male customer walked in. You just can't get away with stuff like that in America (and probably quite rightly).

IA

2009-09-02T09:07:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm back in St. Petersburg. It's nice to be back and settled in somewhere. I got back on Friday and started work on Monday. I'm really looking forward to this school year for a few reasons. First, there's the new school building that we signed a five year lease on. It's a great building; it used to be an Estonian Orthodox Church built for the merchant families of the Baltic countries who lived in that part of the city (which is near the port), and St. John of Kronstadt was there to dedicate it at it's opening. So, it's now returned to it's original purpose of ministering to foreigners living in St. Petersburg. Also, the school has a great faculty this year. There's always a lot of changes, but this year it happened to work out pretty well in that we've had more comings than goings.

But we've also had a bit of sad week. One of our Korean students drowned in the Neva River last Monday. He was supposed to be one of our 11th graders; the kids have been great, though. Many of them went with the family to the airport as they went back to Korea, and two of the students organized a memorial that the whole International Academy community ended up attending. I'm continually impressed with the students I have here and I recognize how blessed I am by them.

Anna Akhmatova

2009-08-05T11:13:00.000-07:00

All has been looted, betrayed, sold;

black death's wing flashed ahead.

-Anna Akhmatova, "Looted" (1921)

Since I've been back in the US for the summer, a lot of people have asked me, "So, why Russia?" It's a fair question. Why, indeed? I've given a variety of answers: the intrigue the "Evil Empire" has to a Reagan baby who saw the end of the Cold War, a fascination with Russian literature, a good experience teaching English there in '07, a desire to do something different, a ministry that had a need I was able to meet, the merits of Russian women, the lack of enforcement of open container laws... the list is endless. Today, I'm going to add another one: Anna Akhmatova. Pretty dark stuff, huh?

Planes, Trains, and Ladas

2009-07-26T18:53:00.000-07:00

My grand project of this last week was to create a Wes Anderson soundtrack. I thought I'd share it with y'all. In place of Mark Mothersbaugh instrumentals, I followed Anderson's lead and replaced them with some local flavor (for Anderson it was India in Darjeeling Limited; for me it was Soviet folk-pop, hence, the title Planes, Trains, and Ladas).

1. "Straight to Hell" - The Clash

2. "Bumazhny Soldat" - Bulat Okudzhava

3. "Ballrooms of Mars" - T.Rex

4. "Six O'Clock" - Ringo Starr

5. "Nu vot, Ischezla drozh' v Rukakh" - Vladimir Vysotsky

6. "Cry Baby Cry" - The Beatles

7. "I Am the Cosmos" - Chris Bell

8. "Who Loves the Sun" - Velvet Underground

9. "Akh, Nadya, Nadenka" - Bulat Okudzhava

10. "Solitude" - Billie Holiday

11. "So Long, Marianne" - Leonard Cohen

12. "Moonlight Mile" - The Rolling Stones

13. "Sidonie" - Brigitte Bardot

14. "Open House" - Lou Reed & John Cale

15. "I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend" - The Ramones

16. "Polnochny Trolleybus" - Bulat Okudzhava

17. "A Long Way from Home" - The Kinks

18. "Moskva-Odessa" - Vladimir Vysotsky

19. "4th Time Around" - Bob Dylan

20. "Don't Let Me Wait Too Long" - George Harrison

21. "If I'm on the Late Side" - The Faces

There you go, you have the music, so now you (or Wes Anderson) provide the storyline.

My feet are now fast and pointed away from the past.

2009-07-21T23:26:00.000-07:00

I just booked my tickets to head back to St. Petersburg. I'm pretty excited about it. I'm flying Swiss Air (a subsidiary of Lufthansa) and I even got a pretty decent deal on it. If you're curious, flights to St. Petersburg from California (roundtrip) usually run about $1,500. So, August 20th will see me leave for Russia and July 1st, 2010 will see me return to the US.

I've been enjoying my time off. I got really in to Wimbledon this year. I got a chance to play a little the other day; my overhand serve isn't all that dangerous, but I did manage to keep it in a few times, which was a small victory. I've also been able to play on an indoor soccer team on Friday nights and play some pickup over at the soccer park on Wednesday nights. Continuing on in my athletic endeavors, my poolball (basketball played in the pool) game has probably received the most attention this summer, considering the fact that Redding is hotter than the gates of Hell. Poolball is a little more akin to Greco-Roman wrestling than basketball, now that I think about it.

What a difference a week makes...

2009-06-21T18:09:00.000-07:00

Life is funny: one day I was strolling down the Champs-Elysees, and then, suddenly, I was back in northern California at 4500 ft., setting chokers in the Sierra Nevadas.

I had a great time at Sara and Noah's wedding and I felt honored to be a part of it. I read this Homer quote a while ago that a good marriage was a source of consternation for the couple's enemies and source of joy for their friends. Sara and Noah gettin' hitched definitely brought a lot of joy to a lot of people.

Being back has been great. I'm not really working a whole lot; every now and then I'll head up to the woods to help out if my dad needs an extra set of hand. But for the most part, I'm just relaxing and catching up with friends. I've been reading a lot as well. I've been reading quite a bit of Cormac McCarthy; it's very American and I love it.

"Oh, Champs-Elysees"

2009-06-15T21:57:00.000-07:00

I left St. Pete on June 1st and began to make my way back to the USA. After a quick layover at Warsaw's Chopin Airport (they played nocturnes in the plane while it was on the ground), I arrived in Paris in the early evening. I made it to my hotel with a minimum of hassle and expense (way to go Roissy-Opera bus). Unfortunately, this was the only good deal I found in Paris. The first word that comes to mind when I describe my time there is "expensive." 3 euros for .33 liter (small can) of Orangina? 8 euros for two slices of salami and a fistful of sprouts? To put in perspective how expensive it was, I was relieved to get into CDG Airport where everything was so much cheaper.

But I feel good with how I used my time there. After checking in, I went and walked around saw the gardens in front of the Louvre (just the outside, it was closed when I got there), walked along the Seine to Notre Dame, and found a bistro (which comes from the Russian word "bystro") to have my two slices of salami and fistfull of sprouts. They didn't have an English menu, but the waitress was Czech and could understand my Russian. I got up early the next morning and walked to Montmarte. I wanted to go early before all the other tourists (and people preying on tourists) were awake. So, I got to the Sacre Couer, a location in the film "Amelie," a little after 7 AM and had the place almost to myself (except for 3 Australian tourists). Afterward, I went back to the city center to wait for a friend who was supposed to meet me. While waiting, I was approached by a beggar. Speak English, she asked. Net, I said. She then explained in French mixed with English that she needed money for food and that I should give her that money. I had just taken a big bite out of croissant I had just bought. I offered her that croissant. She pushed it aside and asked for money again. I told her (in Russian) that I had no money, but if she wanted to eat, she could have my croissant. She ended up taking my croissant.

My friend never did make it; he ended up catching a later train to Paris, so he didn't make it into the city until evening. So, I went to the Musee D'orsay for the afternoon. There was a bit of a line to get in, but it moved pretty quick. I was privileged enough to be in line behind a stereotypical group of ugly Americans; complete mooks. But, I was very pleased once I got in the museum. I give it a thumbs up. I then walked back to the coutyard of the Louvre to meet my friend, as this was our secondary meeting place. I walked the whole time I was there because I was too afraid to ride a bike in traffic and the Parisian Metro looked very complicated and was very expensive. Anyway, my friend didn't make it to that meeting either, so I strolled down the Champs-Elysees toward the Arc de Triumph. I then hung a left and headed towards the Eiffel Tower. Once I arrived there, I had accomplished all of the sightseeing I had planned and began the long, long walk back to my hotel. Along the way I passed a statue of Lafayette; I got a kick out of that.

This would be ironic

2009-05-25T04:03:00.000-07:00

... in the West.

As I walk home from school, I walk past a medical college. I always pass it at the same time, which happens to be in between classes for the med students; they have just enough time to have a cigarette. This is where I get the majority of my allotted daily amount of second-hand smoke.

Night at the Museum

2009-05-24T11:19:00.000-07:00

A word of advice: don't go out on Museum Night. Let's just say organization isn't exactly St. Petersburg's strong suite. And the people that are out and about are not the creme de la creme of Russian society. You could read about Museum Night all over the place, but when it came to exact details (which museums, which buses, what the cost was, etc...), all articles referred to the website where all this information was; that website crashed because of the amount of traffic.

I started out from my place around 9:30 PM. The first museum I went to was the Kirov Apartment Museum. Sergey Kirov was the leader of the Communist Party in Leningrad until he became too popular and Stalin had him killed. This museum is literally a stone's throw from my apartment. It was, of course, not open; it wasn't participating in Museum Night.

So, I walked down to city center (about 30-40 minute walk from my place). The streets were full of people with varying degrees of sobriety off to enjoy a little culture (supposedly). Anyway, I arrived at the Central Naval Museum which I read was included in the program. I had a little difficulty finding the entrance, but I went in, bought my ticket that would get me into the participating museums for the whole night, and discovered I had actually entered some sort of soil museum. As far as soil museums go, it was the best one I've ever been in. Anyway, I finally found my way into to Central Naval Museum and discovered that I had to buy another ticket to get in. I opted to save my money and go check out some other museums. I walked down Nevsky to the Shereemetev Palace. The line to get in was too long and the people in the line weren't exactly the cream of Petersburg society. So, I decided to walk back to my part of the city and visit the artillery museum.

There were more lines here and tons of kids. I opted to continue on to the last museum on my list: the Museum of Russian Political History. There were no lines here. This was the one redeeming point of the night. It was great. They had clothes of Khrushchev, the ID card of Yuri Gagarin, anti-American propaganda posters, and expressionist portraits of Brezhnev. I returned home around 3:30ish, less than impressed by the people of the city (I may have called them "peasants"). I got home just in time for the EuroVision song contest finals. This is a HUGE deal here in Russia. Every country in Europe enters one song and everybody votes for the winner. This year Norway won (if you care).

Victory Day

2009-05-15T09:25:00.000-07:00

May 9th was Victory Day (V-E Day) here. This is the second biggest holiday in Russia; it's like July 4th, Veterans Day, Mothers Day, and Fathers Day all rolled in to one. The first thing they do is wake up early (9ish) and head toward Palace Square to watch the first parade of the day. This parade displays the pride of Russia's current military. I got there early to get a good place but there were already quite a few people ahead of me. I managed to squeeze my way near the front and I had about 45 minutes to wait. While we were waiting, a nice officer walked up and told the police to let a few of the small kids through so they could get a better view. It was a beautiful morning and the parade was quite a spectacle but, honestly, not that impressive. Afterward, as I was walking home, I passed one of the vehicles in the parade broken down on the side of the road.

Later, I walked down to Nevsky Prospekt to watch the evening parade. Instead of celebrating the current prowess of the nation's military, this parade celebrated the veterans of WWII. Every veteran in the city marched or rode in the parade. This was a much better parade and the spectators were in a much better frame of mind. It finished seconds before the heavens opened up and drenched the city. Fortunately, I was seconds away from the nearest metro and managed to make it home fairly dry and, since I left so quickly, uncrushed.

Tomorrow night is "Night of Museums." Many of the city's museums are going to be open all Saturday night to Sunday morning and special, free (FREE) buses will be running all night. The nice thing for me is that I live so close to the city center that I don't even have to take the buses to get to the majority of the museums.

Notes from Dostoevsky Land

2009-05-09T08:05:00.000-07:00

"Raskolnikov, we love you!" -Message written in the hallway of stairwell of Raskolnikov's apartment building.

On Thursday the Russian Lit class at the school had a field trip. They went to Sennaya district of the city to see different sites from Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment. I was fortunate enough to tag along. We started out in Sennaya Ploshchad (in the book it is called the Haymarket). In Dostoevsky's day this was the poor part of the city and we walked a short distance to see the building where he lived in when he wrote C+P. It was interesting that one of my students lives in the building next to it. About a stone's throw away, was the apartment of Raskolnikov. Dostoevsky was very detailed about places and streets in the book, and from it, we can find just about every place that is mentioned. For example, at one point in the book, Svidrigailov stays the night in a hostel. Today it's a McDonald's. Fortunately, the doors of Raskolnikov's building were open and we were able to go up. Today, it is still an apartment building, and sometimes the doors will be locked because the residents aren't terribly thrilled with tourists hanging out in their hallway all the time. Also, people leave graffiti (as pictured above), saying things like, "Babki (old hags) must die!"

Speaking of old ladies dying, we then walked over to the apartment building of the old pawnbroker that Raskolnikov murders in the book. It is interesting to note, our guide pointed out, that the building of the old pawnbroker is the same walking distance away from Raskolnikov's apartment as St. Isaac's Cathedral (thus pointing out Dostoevsky's message that Raskolnikov has the free will to decide whether to good or evil; he chooses evil). We got lucky there as well because the door to that apartment building was also opened. Afterward, we went and saw Sonya's apartment, the crossroad where her father, Marmeladov, was killed, and the bridge where two characters meet in the short story "White Nights."

This is the end...

2009-05-06T04:42:00.000-07:00

May is here. This is the last month of the school year. This is also my last month before I return to California for the summer. I think I need some time to sit and think about my time here (trans-Atlantic flights are perfect for this): living in a different country, learning another language and culture, finishing another year of teaching, managing to survive for 10 months never once lighting the stove or oven...

May 1st, International Worker's Day used to be a major holiday here. In recent times it's just become like our Labor Day (except that all the members of the Communist Party go hold demonstrations downtown). The school celebrated the day by working. No holiday for us. But, over the weekend I got on a bus and travelled to Lodeynoe Pole, where I taught English during the summer of '07. I stayed with a family of a former student for the weekend in their apartment. The father of the family, Stepan, is an avid fisherman. Earlier on Saturday, he set a net up in the river; in the evening he left to go check it and he returned with good sized muskies. When I told me my parents about this, my mom asked if that was legal in Russia. It turns out it isn't (which explained a lot, because I kept wondering why his wife kept asking about the police when he got back). While walking around LP, I happened to see a sign I had noticed a few years ago with the picture of a rather mean looking German shepherd, but this time I was able to read it. It said, "Caution: Evil Dog." Another highlight was playing dominoes. It was my first time, and, accordingly, I had more than my fair share of beginner's luck, leading Stepan to comment that I was "cunning like an Indian."

My time came to an end on Sunday as I headed back to the Big City for another week. I wasn't alone; there were a lot of other who came out to the country for the holiday weekend, so the bus was packed. We had just left the bus station and driven a few blocks when a lady called out, "Stop the bus!" She had forgotten her suitcase. Inside it were all of her documents (ID, registration) and she needed it. The driver let her off and we all waited as the lady ran back to her apartment to get it. Can you imagine that happening in America? This brought me back to something I heard a few months ago from a friend of mine. She had spent some time in the US studying and told about how on her first night she went to a bar to get a drink and was refused because it was after hours. It was literally 3 minutes past time. Can't you make an exception, she asked. Nope. My friend was struck by the lack of compassion in America. Similarly, when Americans are in Russia, they are usually struck by the corruption and willingness to bend/break rules. Americans aren't heartless; they simply have a strong moral compass. Russians aren't crooked; they simply have a big heart.

I was talking to one of my Korean 6th graders today, explaining the English idiom about children being like sponges soaking up information. So, he said (very earnestly), does that mean Sponge Bob Squarepants is a genius?

On a completely different note, I just recieved a text message from a friend in Siberia. I'm pretty pleased with this; who else recieves text messages from Siberia?

Vperyod Zenit! or: Too Legit to Quit!

2009-04-25T03:37:00.000-07:00

I'm going to another Zenit match in a few minutes. One thing I forgot to mention about the experience last time is that when Zenit comes on to the field they blast "Simply the Best" by Tina Turner. In another bizarre nod to American culture of yesteryear, "hammer pants" are quite trendy amongst young ladies in St. Petersburg.

"Shalom, Y'all!"

2009-04-23T08:13:00.001-07:00

This is the sign that greets you when you walk into the school's office. Can you tell I work with a lot of Texans?

Paskha

2009-04-21T09:41:00.000-07:00

-pictures from my church's sunrise service. I felt sorry for the guys playing guitar; their hands must have been freezing!

Sunday was Easter (Paskha) here, but I started celebrating early by going to a Norwegian Easter dinner on Saturday night. It didn't start well: the directions to get to the house where the party was were 95% good. The 5% bad combined with my incredibly poor sense of direction (it's legendary, truly), resulted in me taking an extra two hours to get there. But it was all worth it. It was a nice dinner with some good friends. Very international: 2 Americans, 1 Franco-American, 1 Russo-Ukranian, 1 Russo-Tajik, 1 Brit, 1 German, and 1 Norwegian.

I got home a little late from dinner and I was debating whether to go to my church's sunrise service. I was debating even more in the morning when my alarm clock went off and I wanted to go back to sleep for a few hours. So, I decided to look out my window and that if it wasn't raining/snowing, I'd go. It was beautiful; not a cloud in the sky. I decided to walk across my district since the sun was out to the meeting place for worship. I love St. Petersburg in the early morning; it's like you have the whole city to yourself and there is actually stillness in a city of 5 million people (if you get up early enough). The place for our service was on an island in the middle of the Neva River; on one side you have the old Winter Palace of the tsars and on the other side there is Peter and Paul Fortress and Cathedral (two of the most beautiful and iconic places of St. Petersburg). It may be mid April, but it still can be pretty chilly here (which I found out as I held the communion cup and wafer in my hand).

I walked back home with the intention of having a nice long breakfast and then a nap, but I arrived back home as my roommates were getting ready to go to the regular service and I thought, hey, it's Easter, and I was already awake... I'm really glad I went. It was a great time. I then went and had Easter dinner with an American family from the school along with a few other teachers. I didn't realize how much Easter also meant "family" for me until this year being away, so I am thankful that I was let into this family for the day.

Petrovskii Posturing

2009-04-13T10:21:00.000-07:00

Well, I returned from my adventure watching Zenit v. Amkar Perm unscathed (unfortunately).I guess the 50-75 Amkar supporters figured out they wouldn't get out of the stadium alive if they tried to start anything. The stadium, the Petrovskii, is about a 15 minute walk from my apartment. They are currently building a new stadium in a different part of the city. After being in the Petrovskii, I can see why; the place is quite literally crumbling. I grabbed a few pieces of the stadium before Zenit moves: cheap souvenirs. The game was pretty dull Amkar came for a 0-0 draw and they got it. Coulda used Arshavin, but, oh well. The stadium is about a 20,000 capacity ground and it's a very partisan crowd. During the game the different ends of the stadium shout to each other: "Vperyod Zenit!"("Onward Zenit!") is met with "Vperyod za Piter!" ("Onward for St. Pete!") Flares are still alive and well in the fan culture here, but, fortunately, there was an icy polar wind to disperse the smoke before it settled on the field and make the Americans watching shiver throughout the second half.

Because the Orthodox celebrate Easter next Sunday, yesterday was Palm Sunday, or as they call it here, "Pussywillow Sunday." Because of the notable lack of palm trees here, they've had to improvise.

It's about 9:30 PM here right now and I'm still able to read by the window with the daylight still remaining. In a few weeks I'm gonna be going to bed with it still light outside

"I've got a golden ticket!"

2009-04-11T05:50:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I went with a friend down to the stadium at the end of my street to purchase a ticket to Zenit St. Petersburg's home opener on Sunday. They already had one home game, but it was played behind closed doors due to some unsavory behavior from the fans last season. As we were standing in line to get our tickets, a scalper came up and was trying to peddle his wares. He told us how they only had tickets left in sector 6 (which is part away supporters and part home supporters separated by a line of riot police) and that we should buy his tickets in a "peaceful" sector. We'll make our own preparations, thank you, we said. So, we went and purchased our seats in sector 6 and I'm preparing to beat the living daylights out of any Amkar fan that thinks he wants to have a go. No, not really. Only if I'm lucky.

"Face without Citizenship"

2009-04-06T10:24:00.000-07:00

Today was the day I received my official work visa and Russian ID card! It says "Permission to work for a foreign citizen/face without citizenship." I think I'm missing something in the translation.

Turns out I got a promotion: I'm now the International Academy ACT Lead Administrator, in addition to being the history department chair and, as of next week, boys soccer coach. I think I should get business cards printed up. I could probably think of a few more over-inflated titles to put on it.

I passed the weekend giving another round ACT testing (hence the "promotion") on Saturday and having a bunch of people over to the apartment after church and making tacos. It was really nice time with friends; mostly American, a few Germans, and even a Russian or two. It was also a great way to not think too hard about starting school again on Monday.

I watched the movie Doubt. I thought it was really good. I feel for Sister Aloysius. I also watched Into the Wild, which I also really liked. Here's a link to my favorite scene (it involves 2 actors in character with a gentleman clearly not playing a role but just being himself).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NiJjg5p1ffM

At one minute and 39 seconds you will see something incredible.

Fauves

2009-04-02T04:33:00.001-07:00

"Paris in the Rain" - Albert Marquet

Today was the first Thursday of the month which means only thing here in St. Petersburg: free admission into the Hermitage! This also conveniently coincided with my spring break. So, I arrived at the Hermitage just after 10:30, when it opened. It was fantastic. No lines to get in the door, no lines to get tickets, no lines in the coat check. Russians simply don't get up early. Not even for free day at the Hermitage.

In almost every room in the Hermitage there is an old lady that sits there and shouts at people if they get too close to a painting, are taking pictures without having purchased the photo taking ticket, talking on cell phones, etc... Anyway, in the morning, they usually mosey on over to their neighbor and they chat for the first hour until more people start showing up and then they go to their actual post. Of course, others just doze. I woke a few up when I walked into the room. It was pretty cool to have whole rooms of Picasso's, Van Gogh's, Renior's, Cezanne's, Matisse's, and Monet's all to myself. I left to go get some food and I noticed that there were two young ladies holding a bear cub in Palace Square. I guess you'd give them a few hundred rubles and they let you take a photo with it. One was keeping an eye out; I think having a bear cub in Palace Square isn't exactly kosher, although, I always see a guy there with a monkey. On cold days (most days) he puts a little sweater and coat on it.

I ran into a family from the school at the coat check at beginning. Also, as I was walking back to the metro to go home, I met a friend of mine, Nate, on Nevsky Prospekt. He was on his way to the Hermitage, but I convinced him to accompany me to lunch first. It was such a nice day (the first sunny day above freezing of 2009!), that we walked down to the Carl's Jr. toward the other end of Nevsky. Kinda makes me feel at home when I run into people I know when I'm out and about.

Moloko = Milk(?)

2009-03-30T09:05:00.000-07:00

(a picture of a milk truck from my last trip to Russia)

Milk here in Russia is bad. Really bad. So, today I walked to the opposite side of my district to try and find some Finnish milk. Success! Finnish milk is more expensive, but it tastes and, more importantly, smells like real (i.e., American) milk. The biggest bone I have to pick with Russian milk is that I can never tell if it has gone sour or not: it ALWAYS smells sour. So, to enjoy my 1 liter of good milk, I decided to splurge and get some Western cereal too. A small price to pay for happiness.

The time changed here in Russia yesterday. So, because of how far north we are, it is now 8:00 PM and the sun is just now setting. Springtime here in Russia means two things: the mosquitos are back and the city smells. There is still ice on the ground and the temperature STILL has not gotten above 40 degrees F and the mosquitos are out. The last few mornings I've been awakened by that familiar buzzing noise in my ear. The city smells because the ice on the ground has begun to melt (it's by no means finished), showing the artifacts that accumulated over the long winter: cigarette butts by the millions, empty beer bottles, and dog droppings of various shades and sizes. Imagine you saved the "waste" from your dog over the course of 4-5 months; now imagine you keep it in a freezer; now imagine that freezer stops working; now imagine this happening to hundreds of thousands of people in the city. THIS is why springtime stinks in St. Pete.

Chekhov

2009-03-25T08:17:00.000-07:00

I just read a Chekhov story in the original Russian. I'm feeling pretty pleased with myself. Feel free to send your plaudits...

Idiocracy

2009-03-21T22:46:00.000-07:00

Last night I watched a film. I won't say what film because I don't want my blog coming up on a search when you type it in. I will say that is a very popular internet film and its title is a German word. I watched it because I have several Russian friends here who have seen it/wanted to see it. It's very popular here.

This film's thesis is that the powers that be have been feeding us lies to keep the masses under control. It then explains how Christianity is not true, the attacks on New York that happened 6 and half years ago (I won't say which because of search engines) were orchestrated by the government, and that there is group of mega-rich people who are causing all the problems in the world.

I'm not going to sit here and type a refutation of certain things in this film. I will only say that if I would have turned in this video to a professor while I was at school this is what it would have said at the top of my gradesheet:

"Wow, you obviously spent a lot of time working on this, and it does look very good. But I have to ask: did you spend any time researching this at all? Were you just not paying attention in class when we talked about how to do research? Also, I would advise you to spend a little time in the writing lab. When you make a huge sweeping claim, you need to explain how it could be true. Just because you say it doesn't make it true. Also, if certain facts don't fit with your thesis, change your thesis. Don't change the facts: this is called dishonesty. While you obviously put a lot of time in to this, you should have spent most of that time RESEARCHING and not making cool graphics to accompany audio clips from pseudo-scholars that were discredited years ago. Maybe academia isn't for you. I suggest film school. F+"

This film would be an embarrassment to anyone who has ever questioned religion, criticized the Bush administration, or postulated that there are things going on at the top we don't know about; I can't believe that ANYONE would pass this along to someone else, except as a joke. The sad fact of the matter is that people HAVE passed this along in earnest AND that some people have formed their worldviews from it. This internet thing is great, but I'm getting more and more worried as my generation (the AOL IM Generation) comes in to its own. It said it on the internet. It must be true, right?

"But Brawndo's got what plants crave; it's got electrolytes."

Beware the Ides of March

2009-03-20T12:54:00.000-07:00

Weird things just keep happening. March has been an interesting month; it has come in like a lion and has shown no signs of lamb-like behavior.

I played a little basketball the other night and was on my home from the gym when I decided I was thirsty; but I didn't have any cash. So, naturally, I stopped by an ATM. I put in my card, punched in my numbers, indicated how much I wanted to withdraw, and then watched in horror as the screen instantly reverted back to the starting point asking me to insert my card. This is the thing I fear every time I use an ATM here. I desperately tried to fish out my card using a variety of methods to no avail. My first thought: this is bad, bad, bad.

While trying to figure out what to do, I noticed a young lady was waiting to use the ATM. It's not working, I told her. She asked what was wrong and I said my card was in there and I couldn't get it out. She slipped her card in, punched in her numbers, indicated how much she wanted to withdraw, retrieved her card, and placed her money in her wallet. It worked fine for her. So, I told her that I didn't speak Russian very well and that I had a problem with the card and asked if it was possible for her to call this number and explain for me. She obliged and explained to me that my card had been "blockaded."

Apparently, my bank back home had several cards that were compromised, so they sent everyone new cards. Every one except me, of course. So, when I tried to use my "old" card, it was put in lockdown as a suspicious card. And unless I could convince my bank to call Bank VEFK and open up this ATM, I needed a new card. I got on facebook, found a friend online, and asked her to please call my house and ask my mom to get on Skype. After a few phone calls on my end and her end the situation got sorted and I will be FedEx-ed a new card sometime next week. In the meantime, if I need money to eat, I'll take my roommate's guitar down to the metro and busk for a little while.

No, it's not really as desperate as that. Still a hassle, though.

Mormon Fishing and Passive-Agressive Reprisals

2009-03-17T10:40:00.000-07:00

This weekend I went to the Carl's Jr with an American friend. It's a little more expensive than the other fast food places in the city, but it compensates by being a little more Western friendly (free refills, ice dispenser, they bring your food out to you when it's ready, TVs that blast MTV from the UK). As I started in to my Dvoynoy Vestern Burger ( Double Western Bacon Cheeseburger, sans bacon), I looked around at who was sitting around us. I pointed out to my friend that the guy behind him was definitely an American. No way, he said. But I knew he was; he had masculine-looking shoes on. A dead giveaway.

As we debated whether he was or not, two nice, young clean-cut looking gentlemen showed up. Mormons on their Mission. What I don't understand about these guys is how they can be so nicely dressed all the time, but still look kind of shabby, like boys that have to wear ties on chapel days in junior high. They may have enthusiasm and get-up-and-go, but they certainly lack panache. They walk up to the obvious American and they give him the hand shake/bro hug. Then two more clean-cut guys showed up. Then two more. My friend was intrigued by this development. Should we say hi, he asked. What for, I responded; at this point the Russian winter has removed all the bonhomie from my character. So, my friend decided to go "Mormon fishing" and opened his Bible and left it conspicuously on the corner of our table. He didn't get any nibbles. These guys were too distracted by free refills to worry about my friend's immortal soul.

I then walked down to the English language book store and bought a book. The cashier wasn't very helpful and seemed pretty surly, so, when I was purchasing the book, I took out the largest bill I had to pay for it (which, for some reason is the most annoying thing you can do while purchasing something here in Russia). Don't you have anything smaller, she asked with a heavy sigh. Nope, I lied. Well, do you have any small change (the other most annoying thing you can do while paying is to not have exact change). Nope, I lied again. Fine, she said and asked if I wanted a bag. I figured this would probably be a hassle for her to grab a bag and put this book in it, and might, in fact, ruin her whole afternoon. Yes, I said, I definitely want a bag. I admit I took an inordinate amount of perverse pleasure over this interaction.

The Mac is Back! (different Mac)

2009-03-10T09:40:00.000-07:00

During the "greet your neighbor" time at church on Sunday I met an interesting guy.

(in Russian)

"Hello. I'm Joel."

"Hello. Nice to meet you, I'm Robert. Where are you from."

"I'm from California."

"Oh, that's close to Ukraine, right? Khakha" [the Russians don't have an "h" sound]

"Yep. And you, Robert? Where are you from?"

(in English)

"From St. Petersburg. I was born here."

"Really? You are the only Russian I know with the name 'Robert.'

"Yes, well, it's an interesting story. I was born in '63. My parents named me after Robert McNamara." [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_mcnamara]

"Haha [we were speaking English at this point, so I use the "h"], really? As a protest?"

"Yes, I think something like that."

Pt. II

I've got this cold and I can't talk without sneezing. It gets awkward.

Pt. III

Many have asked if I called the girl that belongs to the number given to me last week. Let me just answer with a quote from Jack White/Dwight Yoakam: "Well, I get lonely, but I ain't that lonely yet."

This Week's Coup de Grace

2009-03-07T22:55:00.001-08:00

Phrases in a news article I don't want to see:

"going green/carbon footprint" "economic crisis" - these instantly make me skip to a more interesting article

Phrase in an art museum I don't want to see:

"Still Life" -instantly makes me skip to a more interesting painting

Phrase you don't want to hear in a darkened basement room in Russia:

"Undress yourself." -this instantly makes me question my desire to remain in this country

Allow me to explain this last one. On Friday I had to go to a medical center to receive an examination. I had to do this as part of the conditions for receiving a Russian work visa. This, essentially, is their final attempt to get you to not want to be in their country. So, after school I headed over the the friendly medical center with a colleague to tackle to process. The process first involved finding the right place (which was 7th door on the left), where you are met by a man (think Cerberus) who operates a turnstile. "Show me you passport. Show me your visa. Show me your registration. Show me your translated copy of your passport. Well, ok, I guess I can let you in."

So in we skipped to the waiting room. After going through a large amount of paperwork, we were ready to go. Now, the way it usually works in any place you have to wait in Russia is you inquire as to who is the last person and you simply watch and go after them. I tried to take advantage of being a dumb foreigner and asked if this was case at the front desk and was told that someone would come and get us. Success.

Someone came and got us and led us to a subterranean floor where I was handed a small cup and motioned to a bathroom door. I figured out what they were after, provided it for them, and then was asked about my "little card." I pulled out the little card I was given at the front desk. The nurse shook her head and proceeded to carefully explain the process and why this little card that I didn't have was so important. And I didn't understand a single word of it. So, we went back up to the front desk where I had to redo all the paper work, because they forgot to give me the special little card. During all this, I was separated from my colleague as he continued the process. I finally figured out where to go next; the problem was I no longer had a guide and I had to ask who was last and wait and watch.

In the next room, I was told to sit down, was punched in the finger with a tack, and then had the blood squeezed from my finger into a small vial. This blood must have been meant for the nurse's own personal use because she then pulled out a needle and stuck me in the arm to get even more blood. I was then told to sit and wait. Then I was motioned into another room and was told by the nurse to lift my shirt. I began to wish I had done some crunches or something before hand. I was then told to drop my drawers and the nurse proceeded to check to make sure the bottom half of me matched the top half.

Then I was whisked off to a room that appeared to be the office of two doctors. I should mention that in every room I was in (except the full-body skin examination room), there were doctors loafing around, joking, flirting with nurses, and being good-for-nothing. This room was no exception. I distinctly felt that I ruined these doctors' fun by showing up, and one of them reluctantly went to his desk to do his job. Do you have any allergies, he asked. Nope, I said, I'm a healthy guy; no problems. This was all he needed and he then motioned for me to sit down while he filled in the paperwork. While he was doing the paperwork, I looked at his computer monitor and saw that he had the Wikipedia page of Mike Meyers open. Clearly, I had disturbed him while he was doing some very important work.

I was then taken into another room with another doctor and he proceeded to explain something to me. I have no idea what, but it took him a while. Do you understand, he asked finally. Yep, I said. Then we had to get the x-ray. So, we were led upstairs went into a decidedly un-state-of-the-art room and were blasted with dangerous amounts of radiation, I'm sure. As I put my shirt back on (x-rays can't see through shirts apparently), the nurse commanded me to hurry up (it was the end of the day, and she must have been anxious to begin her three day weekend). I then methodically buttoned my shirt (including the cuffs and those little ones on the underside of the wrist that are so hard to do and take so much time), and we were told we could go.

Perfect finish to a bizarre week.

Bizarro Weekend pt. 3 and beyond

2009-03-03T06:28:00.001-08:00

So, remember that pain I mentioned a few posts ago? Well, in the middle of the night I woke up with some severe pain coming from the top right molars. I took some Advil and, eventually, was able to get back to sleep. I woke up on Sunday morning with a message from my third molar, "Ok, you've lived it up and never took care of me when you had the chance, well, now it's time to pay the piper." I went to church and was barely able to take communion as I was unable to open my mouth wider than a finger. I came home and sat around my house for the rest of the day, too clouded with pain coming from just underneath my brain to do anything.

All last year in America, I kept thinking, "You know, over Christmas break/Easter break/ summer break, I should really take care of those wisdom teeth." But, of course, I didn't want to ruin my precious time away from work being laid up. So, on Monday morning I went to school and explained to my director my position. She was very helpful and the school secretary made an appointment for me that afternoon and the director's husband came and picked me up.

Was I concerned about possibly having major oral surgery done in foreign land with a well-known disregard for human life? Not really, and if you knew the dentist I had in my childhood, you'd know why. This guy, Doc Farrell, was a butcher. For example, as a boy, I went to him to have a few teeth pulled. He forgot to numb one of the teeth and ripped it out despite my best attempts to communicate that I was quite sensate in that particular area. But he was cheap, so we continued to frequent his abattoir. It is no wonder that dental tourism is fast becoming a tradition amongst my brother and sisters (for further reading see "Slagles, Philippine Adventures of the")

So, I arrive at the dentist, and before I've even finished filling out the paperwork, they called me in. The dentist spoke decent English (he told me had studied for a year in Atlanta) and he opened up my mouth, had a quick look and said, "Yes. Vi'll neet to egstrakt it." So, I got a few shots and he started digging around. I didn't know if this was going to require me being put under or what (the method of "egstrakshun" was never really communicated to me), but I was encouraged in that I heard the word "good" mentioned a few times between the dentist and his assistant. At one point he asked me if everything was ok. I said, "Lla, nar'lnhha." It's tough to speak Russian with the right side of your face novocained and an instrument or two in your mouth. And before I knew it, he told me that we were finished and shoved a thing of gauze into my mouth. He wrote down the name of some antibiotics for me (I don't even know if there is a Russian word for "prescription." You just show up to the drugstore and convince whoever is working that you need such and such) and that was it. In and out in less than hour and for less than $100 and (unfortunately) back at work the next day.

I wanted to ask the dentist if he could drill a hole through the tooth before I left, to make it easy for me to make a necklace out of it (see http://museumvictoria.com.au/fiji/images/mn011702_lg.jpg ), but my vocabulary is rather limited and my desire to communicate anything for the next several hours was severely diminished.

Bizarro Weekend Pt. 2

2009-03-02T07:04:00.000-08:00

So, as I was saying in the last post, on Saturday morning, I headed off to our basketball tournament. We had some difficulty getting a gym for the these games. We had already had two other venues fall through. Both of these gyms, by the way, would not even be up to Igo Ono Elementary School standards. So, after frantically searching the city, the school managed to rent the nicest gym in St. Petersburg for less than than the other gyms and for more hours. Weird.

Anyway, after watching the first few games, I walked (actually, I ran to avoid being ran over by motorists) across the street to a gas station/cafe for lunch. I went and ordered my food and asked a question or two, and then the lady behind the counter asked me something I didn't quite catch.

"I'm sorry, I'm a foreigner and I don't understand Russian well. Can you repeat that?"

"Oh, you're doing just fine! What country are you from then?"

"I'm an American."

"Truthfully? That's very interesting. You know, my daughter speaks English."

"Really?"

"Oh yes, and she's a very good girl. So polite, so intelligent."

"Really?"

"Oh yes, and she studies at the Communications College. She's an economics student. Such a pretty girl."

"Really?"

"Blah blah blah blah telephone number blah blah blah blah you should blah."

"I'm sorry, I didn't understand that."

I was guessing she wanted me to leave my phone number so she could give it to her daughter. That wasn't going to happen. I decided I was going to tell her that I didn't have a phone when I felt my phone starting to vibrate. Anyway, she let me pay and I took my food and sat down and started eating. After a minute or two she came out from behind the counter with a pen and some paper.

"Here, let me give you my daughter's phone number."

"Oh, that's not necessary."

"No, no, it is. Here I'll write it... ok, this is her cell number. This is our home number. I wrote down which metro stop we live at too."

"Oh, that's not necessary."

"No, no, it is. Call her tomorrow. Don't call today, she's in classes. Call tomorrow. Don't call Monday, she's working then. Call tomorrow."

So, with that she strode back behind the counter and I continued to bemusedly eat my food. She couldn't stay away long and came up again to tell me:

"One more thing: when you call, don't tell her I gave you the number. She'll be embarrassed and say 'Oh, Mom!' Better if you just say a friend from university gave it to you. Oh, and by the way, how old are you?"

"I'm 23."

"Wonderful. Perfect. She's 21. Perfect. Well, my name is Elena and I work here, so if you have any questions just come and ask."

"Ok, it's nice to meet you, Elena."

"Call her tomorrow."

I then finished my food as quickly as I could and left, calling out, "See you later, Elena!"

Bizarro Weekend Pt. 1

2009-03-01T10:40:00.000-08:00

On Friday I went over to a friend's place for a Maslenitsa party ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maslenitsa ). At the end of the evening my friend Grisha and I headed back to the metro before it closed at midnight. It was getting late, so we decided to we needed to run to the metro before it closed. We arrived at 11:59 only to find the doors locked. This was a problem. We were both about as far away as you can get from our apartments, in a completely different part of the city, with no way to get home (except hitchin' a ride). We went into the metro station through the exit doors and found 3-5 drunks had done the same thing. They were shouting at the ladies working there to let them through the gates so they could catch the last train. The ladies gave as good as they got and hurled abuse back at them. My friend Grisha tried the tactful route: "Excuse me, maam. Is it possible for me and my friend to go through? After all, we can see the train is still standing there." But the ladies, evidently hardened by the abuse from the drunks, shot him down.

So, up the stairs came a man trying to exit the station. "Excuse me, sir," Grisha said, "Could you stand over there so the gates will open and me and my friend can go through?"

"Oh no," He smiled, "That's against the rules. I'll be disciplined if I do!"

While we stood there pondering what to do next, another man came up and exited the metro. With the gates still open, Grisha, quick as a flash, ran through. He then looked at me with a sort of strained smile and urgently motioned me to come through as well. One of the drunks noticed this also and lurched through. After a moment of indecision, I ran through the gates just before they closed. One of the ladies working came steaming at us and reached out to try and grab me and the drunk guy. I deftly dodged the lady (the drunk guy didn't dodge quite as deftly, but just as effectively), ran down the stairs with her still shouting at us, lost her in the crowd and hopped on to the last train with Grisha. As the train stood there at the platform I wondered if she was going to find a policeman and scour the train for us. While I was wondering about this, I noticed two or three more people jumped on to the train with a naughty/elated smile similar to the one I had. The train left with Grisha and me on it.

The problem was, however, that we both missed our trains that connected this metro line with ours. Grisha couldn't even get close to his part of the city, so we decided that he would come and spend the night at my place. We spent most of the ride figuring out how to do this and keeping an eye on the two drunk guys across the aisle from us, one of whom was desperately trying to keep himself from vomiting. Thankfully, were able to get off of the metro without being vomited on. We were as close as we could get to my apartment, and we started walking. And walking. And walking. Fortunately, it was a nice night (maybe 34 degrees F, and, miracle of miracles, not raining) and it wasn't too bad. We arrived in the middle of the night back at my place and promptly went to sleep.

I had to wake up early, though, because the school was hosting a basketball tournament. So, after bidding Grisha adieu, I headed off to a day of basketball, which brings me to another story about this weekend, but in the interest of keeping this post at a reasonable length (and getting to bed at decent time; and due to the pain radiating from a possibly impacted wisdom tooth), I'll save that for later.

International Ennui

2009-02-26T04:59:00.000-08:00

Last weekend I went to Riga... again. I think it's interesting that international travel has now become slightly blase. My new work visa was ready for pick up, so I got on a train on Thursday night and, miracle of miracles, understood most of what everyone said and was able to ask questions (and I was understood!). I arrived in Riga with some time to kill, so I headed to my hotel, which let me check in early, and napped until the afternoon when I needed to go pick up my new visa. I passed the evening going to the movies, which were in English with Latvian and Russian subtitles. I saw Frost/Nixon. I think it got an Oscar nod or two. I can't think why, to be honest. It wasn't a bad film, maybe a little uninteresting. I could tell there were a lot of other Americans in the audience because they laughed at the appropriate times. My ticket back to St. Petersburg wasn't until the next day, so to pass the time, I went and saw Yes Man. Not exactly Oscar material, but, hey, it did make me laugh. There were more Latvians in the audience because I noticed I would usually laugh a second or two before the people reading the subtitles would. Also, there were a few subtleties that non-native English speakers wouldn't get that went unnoticed by the audience. On the train ride back to Russia, I didn't understand a single word of any Russian spoken to me.

We had a three day weekend because Monday was Day of the Defenders of the Motherland (usually translated as "Men's Day" because of conscription). Russian men celebrate by drinking all day. As my friend Sveta put it, "Never is Russia more defenseless than on the Day of the Defenders."

I was reading this article by an American that had been living in China for several years. I found this quote to be particularly relevant: "We had crossed the shadowy line that divides strange from stupid."

As I walked to work this morning, I noticed how light it was for this time. I also noticed that it was going to be sunny. Also, the temperature was hovering just below freezing (warm, relatively speaking). Ah, I thought, could we be getting a little bit of spring!? Nope. I ended up walking home in heavy snowfall. The sunny promise of springtime gave way to the icy reality of winter. Wake me up in May, will you?

Another reason why I am an idiot...

2009-02-25T09:46:00.000-08:00

...because I am studying a language that has 70 forms of the verb "to walk."

I'm an idiot

2009-02-14T09:07:00.001-08:00

This was probably one of the dumbest things I've done in my life. The team I play with had a match on Saturday. I was ready with all my winter gear for my first game in the snow. But there was one thing I wasn't prepared for: it turns out that underneath the 2-4 inches of snow is a layer of solid ice. I should have brought skates, not cleats. After one particularly nasty fall, someone on the other team asked if I was alright. Maybe, I responded.

And I still have not found Sitro anywhere.

Interesting Conversation

2009-02-10T09:27:00.000-08:00

I was looking for this drink they have here called "Sitro" in a few different shops around here, but couldn't seem to find it anywhere in my district. While in one of the shops I had a conversation that went something like this:

Shopgirl: blah blah blahblah you blah?

Me: Sorry, I'm a foreigner and don't understand Russian very well.

Shopgirl: (Smiles) Oh?

Me: Yes, it's a pity, isn't it?

Shopgirl: Why?

Me: Because I'm not able to understand when someone speaks to me.

Shopgirl: Maybe it's good! blahblahblah blah blah to understand blah blah blah, right?

Me: Right. Do you have "Citro"?

Shopgirl: "Citro"? What's that?

Me: It's a drink. Like ginger ale.

Shopgirl: What? (looks very confused)

Me: Well, it's not important. Thank you (I start to leave)

Shopgirl: Where are you going? (looking confused)

Me: What? (confused as to why she would be asking this question, maybe I didn't hear correctly)

Shopgirl: Where. Are. You. Going.?

Me: Home, of course.

Shopgirl: Of course. (smiling)

Me: Thanks

Shopgirl: You're welcome.

I can't tell you why, but I found this whole encounter very bizarre.

2009-02-08T10:05:00.000-08:00

Watching Rambo III dubbed in Russian on TV. Life is strange, no?