The Heart of the Country

Rum, pum, pum, Rum, pum, pum. This dramatic beat echoed in the air as young drummer boys kept time for the marching soldiers during the Revolutionary war. Then, this beat of the drums kept time for the Union and Confederacy as they solved their differences on the battle field. This beat, this life force, supported the founding of my country, and it molded this nation, taking an idea and making it a reality. Today, the drums that beat the heartbeat in our country are silenced, replaced by commanding officers shouting "left...left." But much better than war, the heartbeat of the drums has been replaced by the heartbeat of a dream.

Washington, D.C. You've heard the name. You may have even been there. But what did you see? A bunch of tourists with cameras, waiting in lines, spending massive amounts of money on cheap souvenirs. Joggers and bikers running through the parks, intent on getting in those last couple of miles. Maybe businessmen and women in dark suits, rushing down the street, phones to their ears, trying to make it to their oh-so-important meeting.

Chances are, if you spent more than ten minutes in D.C. that you probably saw all of this. And isn't it great? Don't look at the individual tableaux, but look at the symbolism beneath. People can freely come and explore our country. In fact, they WANT to come and revel in what we have to offer. Because it is good. I saw the cutest French family on my most recent trip. The children were so excited to have their pictures taken with the Washington monument in the background. They exclaimed away in their childish French, "My turn. My turn." As citizens, we can freely move about, going from one town to the next, exploring the history and culture(s) of our country. That's not the case in many countries, including Russia, where you have to register and unregister every time you travel to another city.

And then, look at the beauty. Huge expansive parks, lined with trees. Perfect for exercising or relaxing. My favorite activity at the National Mall is people watching. I am delighted as I see friends playing football, soccer, baseball, and frisbee, running up and down the fields, laughing and joking and teasing. Families sit down and have actual picnics, talking, COMMUNICATING with each other. Mothers with their babies in their strollers. Children sitting atop their father's shoulders. No wars. No politics. Just vitality. America was founded for times like this, for actions like these.

Then, there are the colors. Everywhere, whether spring, summer, winter, or fall, there are magnificent colors. Right now, the colors are red, orange, yellow, and green. Flowing, Falling, Fluttering, Cascading. Leaves and grass. Beauty, true, unadulterated beauty in the heart of a city. Oh, the glories of God and nature. Enough to make your heart sing and your feet dance.

And yes. Capitalism and Democracy. Businessmen who rush back and forth. Politicians who lobby and "persuade." Even they have their place, because without them, we would be stuck in a land full of tyrants and dictators. Whether we disagree or agree with what they have to say and what they do, without them, we would have no voice. We would have no jobs and no job options without healthy capitalism. Whether we like it or not, capitalism is what lets us do what we WANT to do, and not what we are TOLD to do. It allows for creativity (and depravity, yes), inspiration, courage, determination, persistence. It is this that allows a man to beat out a rhythm, in the middle of a sidewalk, on a set of brightly-colored garbage cans. And it's wonderful. It is this that lets us get lost in and dance to the melodies of a trumpeter in the middle of the day.

This life force is the heartbeat of our country. It's a magnificent artery, truly. But, even beyond that there is so much more to D.C.

My personal favorite is the National Gallery of Art. So much to say and exclaim over. Toulouse-Lautrec, Pablo Picasso, Edgar Degas, Giorgio Vasari! They even have the only public DaVinci in the country. There are not enough words to use to describe my awe, and there is never enough time to thoroughly devour all of the works of art in these three buildings and sculpture gardens.

There's the botanical garden that covers every climate on earth. There's Chinatown, and the many, many college areas where frat boys run around making fools of themselves. There's the Kennedy Center where theatre majors can experience what the stage is really about, and the audience can interact with the characters of the play. There is just so much to this city, that it can really be extraordinarily overwhelming. And that is wonderful. That is America.

This is my country. This is my love.

Roswell: Where Dreamers Dream

"Whoever sent us down here was smart, you know? Because they sent us together, and as long as we stick together, we're gonna make it." From the show Roswell.

Roswell: Think about it and thoughts of aliens, crop circles, and government conspiracies simultaneously spring to mind. But, the thing is, Roswell is so much more than that. Roswell is a city full of dreams and life. It's a city full of polarities. It's a city full of art and invention and mystery. It's a city based on the premise "What if."

As you drive into Roswell from the south end on 285, then you may wonder what is so special about Roswell. It looks like any other run-down New Mexican town. The buildings are abandoned, old adobe walls with faded paint. Lifeless vehicles sit out in the parking lots, fading under the withering stare of the hot desert sun. New businesses, old businesses, a small-town courthouse square, summer Saturdays with farmer's markets: all contribute to the local color and culture.

But, gather up your courage and continue your drive. Look beyond the facade and see the history. Greek revival funeral homes, Victorian and ranch and adobe style houses all tell a story. Buildings loom larger and larger, a symbol of growth and promise. Roswell is also host to the New Mexico Military Institute where patriots train to defend our country. The sprawling campus allows passers-by a glimpse of green fields when all else is brown and bleached gold.

What if we give people artistic freedom without guidelines?:
More than that though. Despite it's small town, country yokel, cliched atmosphere that most people see, lies a thriving hub of art and music and culture. One of my favorite places to visit in Roswell is the Anderson Museum of Contemporary Art. One of my favorite installations is a number of golf club bags, molded and fixed up to look like sharks, swimming from the ceiling.

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In addition to the Anderson art museum, there is also the Roswell Museum and Art Center which exhibits the works of Peter Hurd and Georgia O'Keefe, among others.

What if we train our students to continue their education and explore the delights of music and nature?

Roswell is home to several parks, promoting healthier lifestyles and family fun. During the summer, live music can be found in some of the parks.

Additionally, Roswell even has its own orchestra and community theatre. Now, while you may not get Carnegie Hall quality music, you do at least get a taste of the finer things life has to offer. The local campus also provides theatrical performances such as "Beauty and the Beast." And, before your performance, you can grab dinner at one of the little tea shoppes or steak houses that are constantly springing forth from concrete.

What if we question authority?
And then, then there is the conspiracy. The mysterious accident that slammed Roswell on the map. Aliens. Flying Saucers. Mysterious and unknown metal debris. In 1947 something strange and mysterious happened in the town of Roswell, and ever since then Roswell has become a major hub for those open-minded explorers on their spiritual quest for answers. Do aliens exist? Can we trust our government? What really happened that summer of 1947, and what does the government keep in Area 51? These questions are found and semi-answered in the UFO museum here in town. Unfortunately, for the more objective explorer, the current museum is a bit of a let-down (but that doesn't mean it isn't worth the $5 entrance fee). However, current plans are underway for a bigger and better museum, chock full of materials, stories, and evidence that life does exist on other planets. However, just hearing the stories from live witnesses is enough to make a trip to Roswell worth it.

In the meantime, whether you believe in aliens or not, the Roswell UFO festival at the beginning of July is always a big hit, filled with live music, interesting lectures, costume competitions, and lots and lots and lots of delicious food.

Roswell is so much more than a countrified town. Yes, it's small and has some of that southern charm that some call countrified or hick-ish, but it's an open-minded, explorative town with heart and charm and growing sophistication. The people here aren't afraid to explore other modes of thinking. They embrace there history while continuing to expand. Roswell has a history and museum's worth of stories; it has a life of its own. And all of this just goes to show that it's a city based on "What if."

Inside the Land of Enchantment: Albuquerque

The perfect big city with a small-time feel. Albuquerque is nestled around the Sandian mountains and runs into the Chihuahuan Desert. Albuquerque's claim to fame comes through the famous Route 66 highway in 1926 which, before retirement by the US government, used to run right through the town. Now, route 66 has been relegated to a touristy scenic route, but the city has continued to grow and has become the 32nd largest city in the country with almost one million inhabitants.

By now you may be thinking, besides an old road, what exactly does this old New Mexican town have to offer. The answer is "quite a bit." Albuquerque is home to the largest university in NM, New Mexico University. Like most college towns, UNM has brought in quite a bit of local businesses including a number of delicious eateries like The Frontier, several bookshops and used bookshops (which are so underrated), and there is even a hostel. Yes, the US does have hostels.

For my stay, I resided at the Route 66 hostel. For my first hostel experience, I was pleasantly surprised. The staff and other visitors were extremely friendly. In fact, my last night there I got into a two-three hour conversation with a guy from Quebec and a guy from South Africa who were making their way across the US. The hostel provided a kitchen with limited food stuffs (cereal, bread, peanut butter, fruit, etc) which the could be used at any time. There was a fairly comfy, if small, common room. The main drawback to the place was the lack of AC in the dormitories. But, for the price and the pleasant company, I could easily put up with it.

Besides the university there are several other sites and fame claimers. First, never forget that New Mexico is huge when it comes to everything Native American. Albuquerque is no exception. Not too far away from the historic district is the Indian Pueblo Cultural Center. This summer, they are featuring Zuni dances. As a historian, I find this museum (as I find most museums these days) saddening. However, as just a curious observer and tourist, it should provide at least an hour of entertainment and enlightenment. This summer they have a special exhibit from the Smithsonian on display.

Next to Old Town is the botanical garden, featuring southern and desert flora, and the aquarium. Then, there is the art. NEVER FORGET the ART. Just walking through central and downtown is an art experience, which is probably why there are several walking tours. And, if you are into movies and cinema, Albuquerque is beginning to boom as a studio and filming location. You never know, but you may get lucky enough to get caught in the background or see some filming going on. Of course, if you are in Albuquerque for any length of time and have the money, Albuquerque is also known for hot air balloon rides. Every October they have a festival where hot air balloons of all types are on display through parades, private businesses, and more.

Then, there is the Old Town. Old town has your stereotypical, but upkept, Old West type of structures which have been converted into art shops, eateries, jewelry sellers, and more. One of my best experiences of the weekend happened here. I just happened to walk into an art shop specializing in indigenous artwork by Daniel Ramirez (the owner), when he walked in behind me and introduced me to his shop. As he began explaining his work, we somehow ended up in a 20-30 minute conversation about myths, legends, cultures, and more. I found him fairly well-informed and very interesting to talk with.

Albuquerque has a little something for everyone. A large university and all that comes with it, several national and mom and pop stores and restaurants, art, cinema, nature (there are extensive RV hook ups and camping and hiking spots) are just some of the attractions. However, despite its rather large size, the city itself isn't as daunting as it may appear. While there is definitely traffic, it isn't that bad for a town of its size, and the streets are fairly easy to navigate. Architecturally, there are several adobe style buildings, but there is also a fair amount of modern architecture. There're even some Victorian styles thrown in. I know I'm not an expert on Albuquerque by any means, but I was fairly impressed with it from my short time there.

Sincerely,
Your American Nomad

Inside the Land of Enchantment, Ruidoso

Introduction: Gertrude Stein once wrote, "America is my country, but Paris is my hometown." I've loved this quote for a while now, and in many ways I relate to it. I am a native Texan. I was born there, and I have lived most of my life there. I am proud to be a Texan. I love the vastness of the state, the pride of the state. In my mind, I am and will always be a Texan. But, my heart is a true New Mexican. My family moved to NM when I was two, and we lived there until I was seven. Even after we moved back to TX, I spent almost every holiday and summer vacation at my grandparents house in NM. Now, when I have a choice of where to go when I want, need to get away, I choose NM.

Ruidoso:
I've spent at least one week a year here for the past four years. For those who are not familiar with the landscape and geography of NM, Ruidoso is in the Central to Southeast region of New Mexico. During the winter it serves as a popular town for skiers. In the southern region, its attraction lies in the natural and abundant hiking opportunities, coupled with all the charm of an art-ridden mountain paradise. Summers in Ruidoso are packed with tourists who eagerly participate in the horse races, art shows, and hiking adventures.

I have two favorite things to do in Ruidoso. To begin with I always love walking down the unending main street and exploring all the curio shops. Ruidoso provides the perfect blend of Southern flavor and mountain new-age freedom. The shops host a variety of local goodies - everything from homemade fudge to incense to dream catchers to native american artwork to vintage and second-hand clothing. The buildings themselves are colorful and varied in style and design. Victorian buildings sit next to adobe structures which are adjacent to log cabins. One of my favorite shops is an art house which showcases not only the traditional landscape pieces, but breath-taking human portraits. One artist even has the tradition of capturing extreme details in his subjects, but he always leaves out the eyes.

My second favorite place in Ruidoso is Inn of the Mountain Gods Resort and Casino. The Inn is located on reservation property and owned by the Mescalero Apache tribe. While I am not a gambler, I love the resort for its location and architectural beauty. When you walk into the front foyer, the first thing you notice is the back wall - one large window. Your gaze is captured and you walk toward the back. But before you get there you notice two parallel stair cases. In between the two stairs lies a huge, two story fountain. The fountain is painted and has a Native American design on it. At this point, you look away from the fountain and the windowed back wall. Along the walls on either side of you are paintings - painting after painting of Native American art. Gorgeous earth-toned hues blended and mixed to capture the beauty of Earth and her people. Back to the glass wall. Finally, you've found yourself at the back of the resort. What you see makes you gasp. Outside, running down the two floors to the ground is a man-made architectural wonder of a water fall.

The weather is typically cooler in the Lincoln county forest regions as the evergreens that populate the mountains provide shade and fresh air. Unfortunately, this year, drought and an over-abundance of zealous fires have ravaged the entire state of New Mexico. Even the mountains of Ruidoso provide no refuge for the tired and sunburnt peoples of New Mexico. This year when I went, I almost wept. My green trees were burned. My cool air was blistering. The streets were fairly empty. The whole country has been consumed by this massive heat-wave. But what many people don't realize is that New Mexico has been dealing with it much longer. My area of the state has seen two mini-rain falls in over eight months. Add that added to 100+ degree weather and the results are heart-breaking. People naturally assume that when you see brown plants, the plants are dead. When you are in a drought, you know that's not true. It's when you see sun-bleached blonde-white plants that hopes are lost. However, one thing NM has taught me is that even when all the life has been sucked out of the plants, there is still a wonderful, majestic beauty in the Land of Enchantment.

Summer, 2007

Summer, 2011

Sincerely,
An American Nomad

Home Again, Home Again

I've been home, back in the US, for over a week now, still trying to figure out how to end this blog. There is so much I want to say about my time in Russia, but I am completely at a loss to describe everything. In the end, I have decided that the best way to end my chronicles is to answer two questions that I have been asked repeatedly since my return and then follow them by the top 15 things I learned during my travels.

Question 1. Did you have a lot of good experiences? Was Russia really bad?

Yes, I would say about 85-90% of my experiences were good, which compared to many bloggers out there, makes me feel extremely lucky and blessed.

Question 2. Would you do it again if you could?
Yes and No. I could do Russia again. In fact, I was strongly considering staying in Zgrad. I have made so many friends there, and I loved the people I worked with. But, as much as I enjoyed my time there, Russia itself is not for me. I want to see more of the world, to experience life and different cultures. But most importantly, I want to work as more than a ESL teacher. I want to be in a place where I can use my skills to work with and help people on a more personal level.

Top 15 things I've learned:
1. Friendship is as much about being humble enough to take and accept help as it is about giving help.

2. Ice hurts. It is my mortal enemy.

3. No matter how long the winter may last, spring is always on the other side.

4. Even when you feel absolutely alone and isolated from everything familiar, the stars and moon are so much bigger than you. In fact, they are big enough to connect you and your loved ones back home.

5. It's as important to have laughter in your work atmosphere as it is to have professional respect.

6. When your AD isn't happy, no one says a word.

7. Students come in all shapes, sizes and personalities. The trick is to find out more about them than their name.

8. It is possible to have your favorite student in your class be your worst nightmare.

9. I absolutely love and adore my New English File Intermediate class and my English in Mind Intermediate class. Which basically makes me think that intermediate is the best level to teach.

10. I am extremely blessed to have such a wonderful group of coworkers and friends.

11. I don't have to feel guilty when things go well for me. When I do get gifts and blessings, I should accept them with thanks and realize that maybe, just maybe, I might deserve them after all.

12. Life is full of ups and downs, but I worship a God is absolutely in control.

13. There are no such things as coincidences. Everything is a chain of events with a purpose.

14. Sushi really is fantastically amazing!

15. When you work hard and refuse to give up, dreams really do come true, even if they're not what you expected.

Well, here they are dear readers. The faithful few who have kept up with my journey know some of the highs and lows of my life as a ESL teacher in Zgrad, Russia. Maybe I've inspired you, scared you, or just entertained you. Either way, thank you for taking this journey with me.

As for some good news. This is not the end. While I am not going back to Russia, I have wrangled a job which requires my frequent travel around the US. Indeed, from August 2011 to May 2012 I will be living out of a suitcase and motel/hotel rooms across the US as I visit schools to present Camfel Productions' videos to students. I am extremely excited about this new opportunity God has given me. I get to continue working with students and traveling. So, stay tuned as I create my new blog to capture my life as a nomadic citizen exploring my countries greatest wonders.

Sincerely yours,
Your Home-again-Russian-traveller

Homecoming Adventures

Argh. I can't even remember the last time I posted a blog, it has been so long, but I am finally making amends and correcting my mistakes. So much has happened. Truly, I've been a very busy beaver/English teacher/daughter/tourist.

I now teach over 40 hours between my scheduled company classes and my private students. My year long classes have been trained to my expectations, and we get along well with each other for the most part. I really love all of my students, even the troublesome ones. They add character to the class. These last three weeks will be a challenge though, as we finish up the books and begin reviews for end-of-year exams.

Unfortunately, I was absent the last two weeks, so I have no idea where my students are right now. This past week was a scheduled break. Instead of a normal spring break, teachers who took the short vacation at Christmas time were given a week off in May. I ended up taking two weeks off in order to surprise my mom at home.

Homecoming:
My first week back in the states was a whirlwind. By the time I arrived in the States, I had gone over 50 hours without sleep. By the time I went to sleep, I had gone almost 60 hours without sleep. Let's just say the middle seat in 747 is not that conducive to a good night's rest.

The rest of my time was spent with my parents and grandparents, driving them places, talking with them, eating with them, etc. I also slept an extraordinary amount. The first few days went well, but by Tuesday I was awake at 3am and asleep by 8:30/9:00.

On Friday/Saturday, I flew to Lburg, Virginia in order to meet with all of my friends. I stayed with a university friend and her mom for the week. I spent the week catching up with friends and teachers, including a trip to my Inklings writers' group- which was amazing. I forgot how much I enjoyed those get-togethers.

On Friday my friend Victoria drove me up to D.C where she, her son Balian, and I spent the day touring the National Mall for hours and hours. By the time we got to the motel, we were absolutely exhausted! I flew out Saturday and returned today, Sunday.

It was good that I went home. I forgot how much I missed it. Going home gave me new hope and clarity (as well as an empty wallet). It was a great emotional roller coaster ride, but I got through it. And now I am ready to finish up what I've begun.

The Return:
Now that I'm home, I can't help but compare today's trip to Russia to my first trip into Russia. So much has changed. I remember when I first arrived. I was scared and nervous, and could not even read the alphabet. I felt like a lamb mindlessly following those in front of her. Today, I was actually able to help a couple of newcomers with their immigration forms, etc.

When I arrived the first time, I had a LL driver meet me and drive me to Zgrad in a cloud of smog and heat enveloping me. Today, I found my own taxi driver, negotiated my own price and rode home in sunshine.

My first day in Russia, the ATM ate my card and I came home from the grocery store with a bag of bread, milk, mineral water, and cereal. Today, the ATM worked and I before my first hour in Zgrad was up, I had bought potatoes, pears, apples, bananas, rice, milk, cheese twists and still water.

I am now sitting comfortably in my furnished room, listening to NCIS: SWAK and thinking back on my trip to the US, my return trip to Russia, and my future return trip home.

Sincerely,
Your Russian Traveller

It's Here

Spring has finally stretched its fingers enough to tickle the frozen grounds of Zelenograd. First one finger gently reaches out as warm sun rays. Soon, the blocks of ice lining the streets begin to unfold in streams of watery rivulets, pooling in the conclaves of the streets and sidewalks. But spring likes to have its fun, and like the tease it is, it goes away and allows the snow to fall once again, its virgin whiteness covering the unhidden cigarette butts and pieces of long-forgotten trash. The pools of water turn to slush and sludge. After all, Spring can't be too easy on us. But when he chooses to, Spring returns bearing fresh gifts. Maybe a small green stem here, a baby leaf there. Warm tendrils and lingering kisses on our cheeks. If ever there was a playboy, his name was Spring. When he comes, you forget to be mad at him for taking his dear, sweet time. Instead, you openly embrace him with open arms and return the trail of kisses by basking in his glory with long walks under freshly-leafed trees.

Winter, in its magnificent splendor was lovely. And we need the cover of white snow to encompass and hide our transgressions. But winter is frozen and closed, an elusive mistress that costs too much. Spring is open and welcoming. It both takes and gives. And, Spring is here.

Sincerely,
Your Russian Traveller

In Sickness and In Health

Argh. I'm still sick. My head congestion has settled into my chest, although my ears are still clogged and my throat is still raw which means my voice comes and goes. However, I am in a better mood, so being sick isn't quite as bad. I will be teaching today as I really can't afford to lose any more time.

So, today's challenge is to incorporate lots of listening and speaking into my classes - lots of activities where I don't have to do a lot of explaining or pre-teaching. I found a video on TED about why people should switch to a diet of bugs. I think it will be a good listening topic with comprehension questions, and then I can turn it into a class debate. Maybe a writing topic?

Anyways, I'll figure something out. The exciting news is that in four weeks I'll be spending my May break in Virginia before finishing out the last three weeks of my contract. I'm extremely excited as I can't wait to see all my friends from uni.

There was something else I wanted to write about, but the cloud in my head is limiting my mental functions, so I'll just sign off now.

Sincerely,
Your Russian Traveller

Maslintsa and International Women's Day Hubabaloo

Maslintsa
This past week in Russia was Maslintsa. Although it is essentially Russia's Carnival, it is celebrated as a farewell to winter. I fondly refer to it as "pancake" week though. Russian pancakes, or blinies, are very thin (at least in comparison to American pancakes), and they can be eaten plain or stuffed with different delightful treats. During the week of Maslintsa, it is common to eat a lot of these pancakes, and to give some to friends and family.

On the last Sunday, or the "I'm sorry" Sunday, an effigy of Maslintsa is burned as a symbol of winter's last days. Also, people gather in the squares, feast on free food and drink, play games and just generally make merry. The religious side of this day is when people go around to their family, friends and acquaintances and apologize for things they did wrong in the past year.

My Maslintsa Sunday was, on-the-whole, much quieter, but just as nice. I woke up early and went to Lena's. There, she finished baking the blinis, and I made a fruit salad. For those of you who are interested in cooking and food, I'll try to describe these delicious portions of heaven. Lena has already proven herself a wonderful cook many times in the past, but I have to say, her blinies were superb. In many ways they reminded me of a superior Ihop chicken florentine crepe. The blinies were stuffed and rolled with chicken, onions, and mushrooms. Then they were topped with a cream/cheese concoction. I'm sure there were other seasonings and things used, but I have no clue. Suffice it to say that I will be asking for the recipe, and maybe a repeat performance.

Anyways, while we feasted upon our goodies, we watched Notting Hill. My AD joined us a little later and finished watching the movie with us. I don't know what it is, but I absolutely love that movie; maybe it's because it has the triple thread - comedy, romance, and accents. I still love British accents.

After the movie, I came home, cleaned a little, watched a little tv, cooked and just basked in the knowledge that I don't have school on Monday or Tuesday! In addition, I was able to talk to both of my parents, and my papaw. A truly good Maslintsa Sunday!

International Women's Day
I'm still not sure why it is called International Women's Day. As far as I know Russia is the only country that celebrates it. However, I'm not complaining. International Women's Day, celebrated every March 8th, is an official state holiday, which means that I am off work the 7th and 8th of March. In addition, it is tradition for the men to bless the ladies in their lives with presents. Any day where I get presents for being a female is fine by me. I felt so blessed by my students this past week. I couldn't help but think that back home, teachers are being given and treated like crap right now. People think they are overpayed babysitters. They are being fired, patronized, and all sorts of other horrible things because the education system has gone to hell.* Yet, here I am being blessed by my students.

*Read here about one teacher's ordeal with a spoiled brat. http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/03/03/student-calls-911-after-t_n_830719.html

Sincerely,
Your Russian Traveller

This One's for the Mom

This blog will be a little different. It has nothing to do with Russia insofar as the reason I'm writing it is because I am in Russia and not at home with my mother. Dear readers, today (March 1st Russian time) is my mom's birthday. My mom is 30 years and 20 days older than me, so I'll let you do the math. :D So today, I want to use this blog to honor the amazing woman who has made such an impact on my life; with this blog I want to say, "Mom, I love you so much, and I miss you more than you know."

My mom and I have been through so much together, and I like to think that we for a mother/daughter duo, we have quite a strong and understanding bond. We've forged it through illnesses, screaming matches, role reversals, graduations, medical drama, and much more. But through it all, she was there to hold me, to rub my back, and to wipe away my tears. We literally pulled each other through our lives, sometimes forcibly, sometimes kicking and screaming, sometimes by three simple words "I love you."




When I was little, she would sit/hold/forcibly restrain me so that she could French braid my hair. For a five year old with freakishly long and thick hair that easily tangled, this was torture. But, I did look cute. And despite all of those tears and screams, she managed to teach me how to French braid hair.

My mom taught me my alphabet and my nursery rhymes through song, and by doing so, she gave me a love for music. My mother plays the piano incredibly well, and I remember sitting next to the piano while she would give a piano lesson and just wish that I could have a tenth of her musical talent. Even her own family (brothers, sisters, parents, nephews, nieces and children) comes to her demanding piano lessons, or an accompanist. I was and am so proud of her abilities. Hearing her play is one of the best sounds in the world to me. It's how I know everything is okay: everything will be okay.






I am the middle child, the only girl. I have two brothers. I have my father's temper, and the lungs of a non-smoking musician. Life could not have been easy. When I was upset, I let the whole house (and neighborhood) know. Through it all, I can barely remember my mom ever raising her voice. She knew how to make her point without the violent shouting that I had perfected. Yet, when she did raise her voice, we knew that "momma was serious." I was always wishing that I had her patience and mild manner. And, while I've learned to better control my outrageous outbursts (due mainly to my dad's self-controlling example), I still wish I had some of my mother's manner.



Everyone who meets my mother loves her. She is kind, loving, sharing, intelligent, and sympathetic. As soon as she hears that something is wrong or someone is hurting, she is there with an open hug, a card and breaking heart. She loves people so much, and she lets that love be known. In many ways she reminds me of Beth from Little Women. My Jo-ness just naturally meshes with her Beth-ness, but I know she has helped more people than her daughter. The ladies of our church and her school knew their was something special about her. She just draws people to her with her love.

Then, there is my mother's work ethic. I have never known a harder working lady. She's not a business tycoon, but she is a teacher/mother/wife/musician/band associate/ticket seller/volunteer/... Our family has never had much money, but my mother did everything she could to help keep us afloat. She would teach during school hours and then spend extra time selling tickets at sports events. She would volunteer to work with the Band Boosters because all of her children were in band, and she wanted to support them. She would play the piano at extra church events, for the band and choirs. She would teach piano to interested students. She did all of this for her family. And when she would make a little extra money, instead of using it on herself, she would take her children out to taco bell, or give us a little extra spending money for the band trip or for graduation. Although, we never liked it when she overworked herself, we always appreciated everything she did for us.

My mom's not perfect, and we don't always have the most perfect relationship. But we always have love and pride for each other. She's my number one supporter who has always believed in me. I've never known her not to root for me. When I first learned that I was accepted to teach in Russia, I didn't know how to tell my mom. I thought that she would think it was too far away or too dangerous. But, the first words out of her mouth were "Congratulations, I'm so proud of you." Not once did she try to stop me from coming here.

Mom, in many ways I may be your opposite, but you have always been my inspiration and my motivation to try, to do, and to succeed. I would not be here if it weren't for you. I would not be me if it weren't for you. I am thankful every time that I get to hear your voice and know that you are still here with me.

Examples of true and lasting love:










"Mama" by Il Divo


Happy Birthday Mom! Thank you for 21 years of unconditional love.

Love,
Your Songbird.

Mother-Daughter:
Motto/song - "We go together like shananana-nanananana. Together, forever, no matter the weather, that's how we will always be." Because You Loved Me. Wind Beneath My Wings.

Movie: Beaches, Ice Castles (the original)

Book: The Places You'll Go by Dr. Seuss

Hobby: mother plays the piano while daughter sings

Favorite spot: 2nd row, piano side

Moscow . . . and all that JAZZ

Hello family, friends, world. Yes, I am still alive, functioning, healthy, etc. Not much has been happening. I've been teaching and getting to know some of my students better. In fact, one of my students asked me if I had any English books they could read. So, I brought my stack of books and movies to class and several of them checked some out. As a whole classes are running smoother than ever, which makes me very happy. Other than that, there have been some changes in administration stuff, but nothing worth getting into right now.

The main thing I do want to write about right now is JAZZ. One of my college friends used to call me an "old head" because of my affinity for jazz and classic pop (Josh Groban, Il Divo, etc). For me, there's something about jazz that I find liberating. Even the history of jazz expresses the sense of liberation and freedom: from a cry of suffering (the blues) to a shout of celebration, jazz contains it all.

And last night I became enveloped in a rich blanket of smooth jazz, raucous jazz, and in-between jazz. For the past couple of days, "Butman's Jazz Festival" has been going on, celebrating the life of jazz. Last night I sat and listened to jazz for at least three hours. Every band played better than the one before. The night started with Butman's quartet: Blues for 4 (piano, saxophone, drums, bass). They were followed by All Stars: XXL (trumpet, saxophone, piano, keyboard, drums, bass guitar). Finally, the pièce de résistance for the evening, the Joshua Redman trio (saxophone, bass, drums), swept me away with their soulful and harmonic music.


The music was such that I found myself getting lost within the stories. At times I found a tear running down my cheek and soon after I wanted to get up and dance. If a guy played with my emotions that way, I would probably drop-kick him into next year, but with the music, I can only express love.

And then there were the musicians. I love seeing how musicians handle themselves while performing. The best ones are the ones who give a sideshow by getting into their music themselves. You can literally see the music carrying them away. The drummer in the Blues for 4 quartet was amazing. But then, there was the Redman trio. The whole group threw themselves into the beat. I especially loved it when Joshua Redman started improving. The drummer and bass kept giving each other looks and shrugs, occasionally smiling and dancing to the music while the soloist just belted out the love on his saxophone. Then, after about four minutes, they picked up the beat and joined in (although I think it was because the Joshua had finally improved his way into an actual rehearsed song). The whole set was genius.





To top off the night, Lena, Sergei, Sveta and I took a stroll through red square. If you ever get to see Red Square at night, even if it is in the negatives out side, do it: it is worth every frozen nose hair and frostbitten finger.












Sincerely,
Your Russian Traveller

Days Like These

Nothing too exciting has been going on, but the past couple of days have just been "good." It helps that they have been contrasted by a week or so of crappy days, but I won't let that detract from their goodness.

The Crappy Days:
For a while, I had been in my own sort of funk. I don't know what else to call it but a funk. Things and life in general were just "blah." I hadn't been sleeping which meant I didn't feel very well. There were some bad teaching days. There were home improvements being done b/c the flat was falling apart. And then there was just the overall depressive mood that I tends to follow me around. This year I have been pretty good at pushing it aside, but it swallowed me whole for about a week.

Then there was the neighbor. Last Saturday, at 2:00 AM in the morning - 2 AM, our upstairs neighbors comes down and pushes our buzzer like there's no tomorrow. Their complaint: our stove is letting off a funky smell that is keeping them up. This was the second time they have done this (the last time being in December). This upset me for the following reasons
1. The thing is I understand being frustrated by a smell as I have a sensitive nose, but at 2 am there is nothing that I could do.
2. Our stove does let off a toxic smell when used to long, but I had not used it all day and my roommate "claims" that she never used it (although there was some evidence to the contrary). So, we think their is an angry poltergeist haunting our stove, and what can we do about a poltergeist.
3. They keep threatening us with the cops. I don't like being threatened by anyone, but especially not in a strange country where I don't speak the language.
4. The frustrating neighbors actually speak English fairly well, and I hate the teacher side of me that wants to compliment them and ask them where they learned their English - all while they are threatening me!!!
5. On Sunday, the day after the smell, when it was gone, they called the cops to our flat. Luckily I was at a friends, but my roommate was here. Although she never answered the door, which was good. Apparently, you don't have to answer the door to anyone in Russia, even the cops.
6. Our landlady suspects that the grandson is a druggie from her previous encounters with him.

Anyways, as a result of this, our landlady, who is the nicest landlady in the world, has bought us a microwave which I have christened Sir Milo the Gallant.

The Good Days:
Isn't it amazing how just a couple good days can counteract all the other depressing ones? The first good day was Sunday. It was completely dedicated to music, friends and food. To begin, I went over to Alyssa and Lena's flat where we watched some old Soviet/Russian folk cartoons which are set to music. Lena had bought me the CD/DVD for New Years, and she translated it for us as we watched. Then, she made salmon pasta, at my request, and as soon as Alex came over, we feasted and watched "The Sound of Music." After that, Lena and I watched a Belly Dancing Competition. Which was fairly interesting I must admit.

The next really good day was Tuesday. I got up feeling really relaxed and pleasant, and then got dressed and went to pick up my pay from the ATM at the mall. Although its out of the way, at least it got me out of the flat. Later I ran into a friend and we sat and chatted for about an hour on the delights and horrors of teaching and even more about various historical topics. It was quite an enjoyable conversation.

Then today, I had a really fun class with one of my teen groups. My AD had found a Sherlock Holmes activity which I adapted into a classroom project. I had fun seeing how the "logical" minds of teenagers work.

Then, there was my tutorial make-up session with one of my favorite students. She is very sweet and has such a curious mind and is eager to learn. After the session we just talked some more. It is students like her who make me enjoy teaching.

Sincerely,
Your Russian Traveller

And These are the Days of Our Lives

Life has been pretty quiet since I've started back. I have kept all of my classes, so my schedule remains unchanged - which is both good and bad.

The Monkeys
I love my kids (most of the days), but my EM2 young teens have tried and succeeded in pushing my buttons. I affectionately refer to them as my "little monkeys," and I hate it when I have to dole out punishments, but alas, I was forced to write up reports on two students. 2 girls. Best friends in class. 1 is at the top of the class yet refuses to speak in English. The other is a smart underachiever and relies on her friend for all the answers. The trouble comes when St. 1 helps St. 2 despite sitting four rows behind her. However, I will admit that as much as I hated involving parents, the next class had a much quieter atmosphere. My monkeys became children again.

The Business
I have long come to accept the fact that I work for a business. As much as it is a school, it is a business first and foremost. This can prove difficult when trying to find creative ways to punish kids without losing their business, but it hit me hardest with my in-company class.

About a month or two before winter break, I had obtained teacher-ship of an in-company class. The class of about 4-6 adults wasn't a real joy for me. They weren't horrible, just . . . bland. They never did their homework; they complained about assignments, and one man really kind of scares me with his political, social, religious beliefs. But hey - it's a business. Then, the last week of the semester, they cancelled the last two classes. Fine by me. They had a test. It made sense.

When I came back to work, I was told that they cancelled all further classes. They were tired of English and wanted German. While technically they were working out of an advanced book, this class was more realistically at an intermediate to upper-intermediate level. Their writing and speaking skills were greatly underdeveloped. Yet, they thought they knew it all. (Although, in all fairness, their vocabulary was pretty advanced.) I was fairly thrilled that they cancelled classes with me. It actually made my week. And then, last week I got the news. They want me back. 1 day a week. But, they have a condition. I must not give them ANY writing assignments. I must teach them and help them fix their weaknesses, without having them physically work on their biggest weakness. Oh well. They are the customers. And, it's only 1.5 hours a week. It's not that big of a deal.

Anger
In my last advanced class on Monday, I had my students write down a topic on a piece of paper. I then collected all the topics and had each student draw one. They then spoke on the topic for a minute. One of the students spoke on the Domodedovo Airport Terrorist Attacks. I had not heard about it yet being at school for the better part of the day. When I finished with class, I looked it up online. I was mad.

I was mad that there are people in this world who don't care how many people they kill. I was mad that so much hate and racism exists all around me. I'm a Christian, and I am proud to be one. But I HATE it when religious and political extremists make it difficult for everyone else who believes in something to be taken seriously. When they manipulate and destroy images and concepts of love with those of hate and violence.

I also hate the silence and apathy surrounding the attack. I live only about 3 hours away from the airport. Close enough to be effected - I would think. Yet I haven't heard anything about it from my students or coworkers since Monday.

35 people died.

Over 180 were severely injured or in critical condition.

I'm not a raging pacifist by any means. I believe there are definite times for peace, but there are also times for war. I am a proud citizen of the United States of America. I'm not saying that there aren't people talking about it and clamoring for justice, but I'm shocked at the silence. When the United States was attacked in 2001 people, even teenagers, talked about nothing else for months. Every September since then people of all ages have remembered and honored the day. A country's citizens should feel safe. If they are threatened by either terrorist attacks or their government, they should demand justice and keep on demanding it until they get it.

So, has Russia just seen one to many attacks to get up in arms over it? Have they just lost complete faith in their government and military officials to properly handle explosive situations? Why aren't any of my students and coworkers talking about it?

This silence scares me more than anything. Before the storm there is always a silence. Will we be ready if all hell breaks loose. There was already a couple of race riots about a month ago. What will happen next?

America, are you paying attention? Will you learn from history?

Sincerely and Mournfully Yours,
Your Russian Traveller

Update:
The business class has been given to another teacher. It should bother me, but at this point I am just relieved. I can handle my other classes and have a good rapport with them, so que será será.

Tales of Tails and Resolutions

The last week has been packed with metro rides, ice, fun . . . and pain. The first official day of my winter break I packed my small suitcase and headed toward the train station, on my way to spend the next couple weeks with Kayla in Moscow. I realized I should have taken the bus to the city when my butt hit the first stair and continued on thwacking its way down. But, being used to falls I picked myself up, grabbed my bag and slowly continued toward the KACCA. That was the second fall of the day, the first being a minor one on my way to the city bus. Nevertheless, I boarded the electrishka, falling back into the old routine of the ITP. No problems. And then I got off the elektrishka, walked less than a hundred yards and SMACK. Down the stairs I go. This time, I'm in serious pain.



After a week of continued pain, I'm pretty sure its the I-cracked/fractured-my-tailbone type of pain. Ice and stairs have become my arch nemesis this winter and a continued source of cringing. Later that day, I realized that my keys had fallen off of my key chain during one of my falls, leaving me temporarily locked out of my flat.

However, pain aside the week has been pretty good. The weather is turning bitterly cold, but I don't mind it that much. What I do mind is that all of the parks Kayla and I have visited have been closed. Even the "artist commune" I dragged her to had a pretty slim selection. The paper gallery was closed which I especially wanted to see. Regina's collection was fairly disappointing too considering it's supposed to be a "shocking" exhibition. However, there were two exhibits that were fairly decent.




Happy New Year Stanley


On New Years Eve day I braved the ice and grabbed the bus back to Zelenograd (no one can say I never learned my lessons). After arriving at my intended destination, I was welcomed into the flat by Lena and her friends Kate and Olga. The four of us spent the next few hours in a torrent of cooking and conversing. More people began to arrive which meant more hands to help, more people to meet and more tongues chattering away. By the end of the night, there was a total of ten people - ten friends who welcomed the New Year together.




Lena's party was "hat" themed. Everyone must wear a hand-made hat or head decoration. It truly was brilliant. Everyone was very festive. But in case I got two homesick, Micah and Britt decided to fill in the role of my brothers. Their colleges were playing a rival basketball game, and so I got to hear shouts and insults hurled at each other.

The thing about New Year in Russia is that it is THE holiday. It's basically the American equivalent of Christmas. Due to Communism's solid anti-religion campaign, New Year became the thing to celebrate.



Each New Year, the Russian President gives a short speech five minutes before 12:00. Even the children watch and listen as he describes his dreams for the future. This year, President Medvedev claimed that this coming year would see a more modern Russia, but to do so the children must be taken care of. This was followed up by Sting singing his song "Russians," which I have since downloaded.

At 12:00 a slice of carrot is eaten by every person. As everyone chews frantically away, they make a wish. If they finish their bite before 12:01, their wish will come true. If this tradition holds true, my wish should becoming true sometime within the next 12 months.

After the carrot eating and general inside frivolity and games, we sauntered outside to enjoy the snowy air and a nice snowball fight. This was followed by sledding and fireworks.


St. Petersburg
Kayla, her friend Danielle, and myself headed to St. Pete's on Jan. 2 by way of express train. We stayed with some mutual connections which helped us out on cost and provided a homey atmosphere for our journey. The first day we began our explorations of the Hermitage. The second day we toured the Peter-Paul Fortress and Cathedral where the tsars are buried. We also investigated one of the Russian State Museums. The third day we continued with our explorations of the Hermitage.



Although there is so much that could be said about St. Petes, I'll try to keep it brief. I LOVE St. Petersburg. I'm not a big city person, but St. Petersburg had a more intimate and generous atmosphere enveloping it. The people were friendly, and when we stopped and asked people for directions, they gave it to us with a smile and a few more questions about us. And then, there is the Hermitage. I could live in that place for a year and still not get enough of it. The art! The history! The LOVE! I want to go through it room by room with a notepad and pen and scribble away furiously. The inspiration and thoughts and admiration that pop into my head are innumerable and wonderful.

Back to School

Break is over. I'm back in my flat which suffered from water damage due to leaky heating pipes. Black mold is growing in my roommates room. The heater only works part of the time. The weather is cold and icy, although I still enjoy the cold. I just wish the ice would go away.

At this point, I definitely know my tailbone is broken. It's been over three weeks and I still can't sit longer than 30 minutes without needing to get up and walk around. In addition, my lower back is also giving me problems, and I think I've knocked a few things around. I've fallen twice more since the stair incident which hasn't helped much. Although, I now have a glorious pair of boots, so hopefully falls will be limited. I've never been graceful and have fallen plenty since I've been here without the help of ice, but the ice has served as a catalyst for my increasing number of injuries.

All of these bumps and fractures and bruises have led me to make the New Years Resolutions I refused to make on/at New Years. The year of 2011 will be my yoga/pilates year. While I definitely could stand to lose the weight, my main objective for this is to 1) strengthen/protect/heal my back and back muscles 2) try and get into the art and practice of meditation. While I don't believe in the exact religiosity of Indian spiritualism, I do believe meditation is an important part of spiritualism in general be it Hinduism, Buddhism, Islam, or Christian.

I would definitely like to learn more about the history of yoga and even the religious aspects of it along with the physical though. I've been very impressed with what I've read and researched so far. The general approach is more relaxed yet strict. It's not about food measuring, weight lifting and demanding regimes (although those can be included). It's not specifically a weight-loss regime, although it can help tone and trim. Rather, it focuses on the self. On coming to know and appreciate who you are. From the blogs I've read, I've lost count of how many times I've come across phrases like "love affair" and "conversation" with oneself. The blogs and chat rooms are filled with warmer and hopeful and encouraging reports and remonstrations. There are also a lot of posts on breathing and learning and gaining peace and conentment through simple breathing and posture exercises.

I did a little yoga about five years ago and was impressed, although I only did it for a couple months. However I was a lot more flexible back then, having gone through gymnastics and softball and marching band. I am totally, completely, impossibly out of shape here in Russia, and the ice does not help.

For my new resolution, basically I've downloaded several episodes and podcasts and am doing a home study. While I do have a little bit of background in some of the poses and movements from my previous class and my gymnastic years, I am slightly worried about correct posture, etc. I did my first yoga "class" today. I miss my old flexible body. My back hurts. But, I'm not discouraged. I'm going to keep going and hopefully this old back will be able to once again due bridges and twists and flips. Until then, I'll keep dreaming. :D

Sincerely yours,
Your Russian Traveller