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

Yes, Virginia, there IS a Santa Claus.

If you had asked me a year ago if I would be okay having a Christmas day without my family and our traditions, I would have given you an extremely nasty look just for bringing up the possibility that Christmas could happen without my family. In fact, a year ago from today, I was getting yelled at by my dad for insisting that our in-transit family keep to the traditional Christmas morning, tree-gathering, Santa Claus-bringing ceremony.

Then, today happened. I am over 5,000 miles away from my family, in a place that doesn't really celebrate an English Christmas (which meant that I ended up working). I am in a land where I barely speak the language.. And yet, I enjoyed myself. I didn't even mind working, spending an hour putting together a comprehensive movie packet for my TOEFL class and then teaching for 3 academic hours. After work, my AD and I walked over to a fellow intern's flat where we gathered for our own mini-Christmas celebration. And while I didn't stay too long, I'm not missing being with people celebrating Christmas. I do have a slight nostalgia at not going caroling with my cousins, or singing the Star Spangled Banner before praying over the main feast (a strange family tradition I know). But, I'm not upset. I'm altogether quite content and peaceful right now as I sit in bed, typing, reading, listening to the Notebook soundtrack and munching on yummy gingersnaps. Life seems so right here, away from the bustle and commercialization of Christmas and minor family spats.

I love my family, but I'm glad I get to spend Christmas in Russia. Santa gave me the greatest gift of all this year. He gave me the means to achieve my dream, and the promise that it will continue as long as I need it to. He gave me back my faith and my hope and my confidence. It's okay to dream big.

So good night and merry Christmas dear readers. I hope that Santa was able to bring you all of your desires too.

On Santa Claus

Many of my readers might believe that the above tribute to Santa is a playful exchange of words alluding to the childish spirit of Christmas. But I must confess, within my deepest soul I not only WANT to believe there is a Santa, I DO believe in Santa. While there may not be an actual man who flies to every country and slides down every chimney, who's to say there isn't. It is as possible me getting to come to Russia. As possible as a Georgian taking over half of Europe and Asia. As possible as the Titanic sinking. As possible as a man walking on the moon. Besides, even if there is no tangible MAN, there is definitely a tangible spirit of Santa though who has inherent magical qualities. (Although here most of my critics are going to try to tell me that a spirit cannot be tangible, I will persist in insisting that this one is.)

Today, I had my TOEFL students read the "Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus" article written over a hundred years ago. As we discussed it we pondered the different points like why is the author writing such a formalized letter to an eight year old. What is the real purpose of the letter? After some consideration, the conclusion I came to is that while the letter was addressed to the child Virginia, the response was directed at the "skeptic" readers themselves. It is such a passionate plea for a return to the innocence of child-like belief, alluding to faeries and magic. But it is also very sensualized and fervent in its endeavor to bring in rationalized arguments that the readers can relate to: among these being love, poetry, beauty and faith. Readers, remember that this is the time of the Bohemian revolution. Fantasy authors and romantic authors such as Shelley, Keats, Byron and Mary Shelley were in their prime. This plea is just a push trying to get these skeptics to go from Dracula and Frankenstein to a faith in the innocence and purity of Christmas. To go from an obsession with romantic love and drama to the purity of a child's love for all she holds dear.

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus, because in a world filled with skeptics who try their best to outshop, outcurse and outdo their loved ones, somehow, true Christmas innocence continues to exist. And that, Virginia, can only be because Christmas is magical. And Santa is magic.

Sincerely,
Your Russian Traveller

Christmas Time is Here Bringing Joy and Cheer

The sun set several hours ago, officially welcoming Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. The night is perfect and serene, and while there is snow on the ground, the air is clear and crisp and a perfect 21F. And though I can't see the stars in the sky, I know they are there, smiling down on me. They have to be. Because this night is perfect.

My Christmas Eve day began with one of the best presents of all for an overworked EFL teacher: my first two classes were cancelled. This gave me the extra time I needed to hit up the ATM and then go Christmas shopping. I needed to get gifts for Lena, a good Russian friend and coworker, and one for Lidia and Ilya, a couple who has taken me into their home. I ended up buying a rose and dark chocolate for Lena, and a rose and picture frame for Lidia and Ilya (however their rose started drooping by the time I got of work). I don't usually enjoy shopping, even when I do speak the language. But I did feel a sense of accomplishment being able to buy these gifts for myself. (Additionally, earlier this week, I made a Western Union transfer all by myself - without a translator. Score 1 for me!!!)

After I bought the presents I headed to the school to get settled and prepared for my next four classes. My first class was a pre-int group of preteens/young teens. We mixed a page out of the book with several Christmas worksheets and games. My next class, a teen intermediate group watched Kung Fu Panda: Holiday edition, and then they discussed the important aspects of Christmas (or in Russia's case New Years). One of my students, Alyona, brought me a gift containing chocolate candies, chocolate bars, and a canister of gingersnaps. Yummy!

My next class was my favorite class of all - my New English File adult intermediate group. They are always so much fun and are always dutiful and hardworking. Tonight I had planned a movie night. The class before we had gone over the story "How the Grinch Stole Christmas," looking at Christmas vocabulary and reading timelines. So today, we put watched the movie in order to reinforce the word pictures in the story. I had brought a few snacks and tea, and while I was getting everything set up, they stopped me. Margo stood, and then everyone stood, and then they presented me with a wonderful box of sorted Ferrero truffles. I almost cried on the spot. I love my class!

My next class was a NEF advanced class. They are a new class for me as I just took them over from another teacher a couple weeks ago. We ended up watching "The Santa Clause."

After my last class which ended at 22:00, I walked over to Lidia and Ilya's. Lidia had invited me over for Christmas Eve, even though I worked late!The darkness was already breathtakingly serene, except for the music coming from my earphones. I part walked, part skipped the way there. I love this weather and this serene solitude of darkness.

The night only increased in greatness as it progressed. In addition to me, they had invited another friend of theirs over, Alexei. The company was good and so was the conversation. We traded Christmas and New Years traditions and laughed over the different names of food. We laughed over the fact that we both got each other picture frames for Christmas. We laughed over the antics of their daughter Sonya who is a treat to watch as she plays with her toys. Christmas music played in the background causing me to sway and lip-sing to the familiar tunes. Lidia had prepared a dinner consisting of rice, chicken, cucumber and tomato salad, and jello which we feasted upon with great relish. Ilya drove Alexei home, and Lidia and I played with Sonya and attempted to put some of her new gifts together. Then Lidia and I took turns reading the Christmas story. At about 1:20 I finished the perfect evening by re-entering the inviting darkness of the Russian night sky.

I don't remember the last time I had such a good Christmas Eve, even in the States when I was surrounded by family and lifelong friends. Thank you God for sending your son to become one of us, to die for us. Thank you for providing us with everything we need, even when we don't know we need it. And thank you for sending people into our lives who are there to fellowship with and to love.

Happy Birthday Jesus!




Did you know that you can get a pregnant Barbie Doll? I didn't but I sure got a kick out of this one. You can put the baby in the tummy, and then when it is born, you can turn the tummy cover make it flat again, because of course, Barbie has to be in perfect shape!



From Genesis to Revelations in pictures.
















Pop-out book of the nativity story.
















New Presents for Sonya!














Lidia, Sonya, and their beautiful tree!



Sincerely,
Your Russian Traveller