Larry here:
We are back at home. Sasha and I arrived last Sunday, Alison--after a business trip to Israel--returned yesterday.
We all stopped in London on our way home, and had a great time.
It's not a big culture shock to be back. This is familiar territory. California hasn't changed much.
Still, we can't believe we're not looking out on rush hour backup on the 12-lane Prospect Mira while we eat dinner. Or riding the Metro. Or dodging cigarette smoke.
But California is in all its early summer splendor, and we're enjoying our return.
A couple of postscripts: a box of supplies that Russian customs had refused to give to us because the box contained sudafed, came back to us in the mail. Last week. It gives us hope that our other packages we mailed as we left the country will follow.
I visited a Russian store today in Palo Alto and found many of the foods we'd eaten in Russia for sale. Even Baltika beer. We had pelmenyi stuffed with turkey tonight for dinner. Tomorrow we'll eat the round pretzels and finish the brown tea cookie that Sasha first tried in Moscow. Food triggers some great memories.
We look forward to seeing our California friends this summers. And following life in Moscow from afar.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Friday, June 12, 2009
P'ka Mokba
Alison's last day in Moscow:
I visited the New Tretyakov Museum again to see a poster exhibit. It focused on the period from right around the revolution to contemporary times. I went with a Fulbright art history professor and Cyprus-bound expat friend. Great fun, but sadly the signage was all in cyrillic, so I had to puzzle my way through most of them. Visually the pieces stood on their own.
I ate a last lunch at Le Pain Quotidien. It was 30 degrees, but they had good French food, iced lattes and air conditioning. What more is there to say, but ahhh!
I sat in the worst gridlock traffic jam of my life on the way to the airport. It took us over 3 hours to drive to the Domodedovo airport from VDnKh. Larry took an earlier flight and his airport ride took him 1 hr 10 minutes. I was miserable, I had to pee, I thought 'I am never going to be able to leave Moscow." Yet we somehow made it the plane.
The plane was a regular booze cruise, mostly Russians who were drinking heavily. Some had brought on their own hooch. The British Airway flight attendants were not having any of this and managed with a firm command and an arm on the shoulder to scold the drunk Russian males on board into submission. "We're not going to have
any trouble this evening, are we?"
Sasha made many friends wielding her tattoo skills and distributing Russian chocolates to seatmates and crew alike. Upon entering the immigration, our new Russian friends let us cut to the front of the line. We were in the UK at last.
And so you have it: as we decompress in England and gather our wits about us, I am sure we will post some final thoughts. What a long, strange trip it's been.
Larry:
Leaving Moscow wasn't quite as exciting. My flight left at 5:50 a.m., and I rode to the airport under cover of darkness on the MKAD, Moscow's version of the beltway. I had hoped for a scenic tour to the airport, past all the Stalin high rises, over the bridges, tripping memories of our four months in Moscow. But instead all I saw was car dealerships and lots of apartment buildings. During the flight, I followed progress of our journey on the plane's screen. I thought how far away we had been. Plenty of time for deeper thoughts later.
I visited the New Tretyakov Museum again to see a poster exhibit. It focused on the period from right around the revolution to contemporary times. I went with a Fulbright art history professor and Cyprus-bound expat friend. Great fun, but sadly the signage was all in cyrillic, so I had to puzzle my way through most of them. Visually the pieces stood on their own.
I ate a last lunch at Le Pain Quotidien. It was 30 degrees, but they had good French food, iced lattes and air conditioning. What more is there to say, but ahhh!
I sat in the worst gridlock traffic jam of my life on the way to the airport. It took us over 3 hours to drive to the Domodedovo airport from VDnKh. Larry took an earlier flight and his airport ride took him 1 hr 10 minutes. I was miserable, I had to pee, I thought 'I am never going to be able to leave Moscow." Yet we somehow made it the plane.
The plane was a regular booze cruise, mostly Russians who were drinking heavily. Some had brought on their own hooch. The British Airway flight attendants were not having any of this and managed with a firm command and an arm on the shoulder to scold the drunk Russian males on board into submission. "We're not going to have
any trouble this evening, are we?"
Sasha made many friends wielding her tattoo skills and distributing Russian chocolates to seatmates and crew alike. Upon entering the immigration, our new Russian friends let us cut to the front of the line. We were in the UK at last.
And so you have it: as we decompress in England and gather our wits about us, I am sure we will post some final thoughts. What a long, strange trip it's been.
Larry:
Leaving Moscow wasn't quite as exciting. My flight left at 5:50 a.m., and I rode to the airport under cover of darkness on the MKAD, Moscow's version of the beltway. I had hoped for a scenic tour to the airport, past all the Stalin high rises, over the bridges, tripping memories of our four months in Moscow. But instead all I saw was car dealerships and lots of apartment buildings. During the flight, I followed progress of our journey on the plane's screen. I thought how far away we had been. Plenty of time for deeper thoughts later.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Post Office, part 2
Alison:
After the relative ease - by Russian standards - with which we sent books back to California, we trotted back to the Central Post Office to mail back our winter clothes. Turns out, books are easy to send, clothes not so easy.
In an airless, hot room were five queues. Per my usual technique I just jumped on one and was handed a form written in French and Russian, and was yelled to fill out all three. I think. That's when Julia appeared, a good Samaritan and my assistant for the next 40 memorable minutes during which the postal worker packed and unpacked my boxes three times, went through Larry's long johns and asked in Russian what they were and why they weren't listed on the form correctly. Understand, our stuff is so ratty after four months of continuous washing and wearing that I was pretty embarrassed I was not throwing it all out altogether.
Ms. Nasty Postal Worker made us fill out the form a 2nd time - in triplicate - while Julia explained that not all Russians were mean and angry. Julia and Ms. Nasty began to argue at one point and I asked her what was going on. She had been trying to explain that the process was difficult for foreigners to understand and Ms. Nasty spat back "that's not my fault!"
Note to others: go to DHL, they are right down the street. This was one Russian experience not worth repeating.
Postscript: our stuff will arrive in two months. Perhaps...according to Julia.
After the relative ease - by Russian standards - with which we sent books back to California, we trotted back to the Central Post Office to mail back our winter clothes. Turns out, books are easy to send, clothes not so easy.
In an airless, hot room were five queues. Per my usual technique I just jumped on one and was handed a form written in French and Russian, and was yelled to fill out all three. I think. That's when Julia appeared, a good Samaritan and my assistant for the next 40 memorable minutes during which the postal worker packed and unpacked my boxes three times, went through Larry's long johns and asked in Russian what they were and why they weren't listed on the form correctly. Understand, our stuff is so ratty after four months of continuous washing and wearing that I was pretty embarrassed I was not throwing it all out altogether.
Ms. Nasty Postal Worker made us fill out the form a 2nd time - in triplicate - while Julia explained that not all Russians were mean and angry. Julia and Ms. Nasty began to argue at one point and I asked her what was going on. She had been trying to explain that the process was difficult for foreigners to understand and Ms. Nasty spat back "that's not my fault!"
Note to others: go to DHL, they are right down the street. This was one Russian experience not worth repeating.
Postscript: our stuff will arrive in two months. Perhaps...according to Julia.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Time Warp: Moscow Central Post Office
Alison:
As we continue to pack and purge, we realized that we did not want to drag books and our winter clothes on the next leg of our journey. Solution: ship it home. After a confusing visit to our local post office, conveniently located downstairs, I found out that if you want to ship to America, you need to go to the central Moscow post office at the Chisty Prudy Metro station. So I packed three bags of books, grabbed tape, a scissors and a Sharpie and headed out.
Visits to municipal offices here in the Russian capital are usually an adventure, and this was no exception. The building looked reasonably Soviet enough, and there were many unhappy workers behind the counter. We must be in the right place, so we just jumped on the nearest queue and hoped for the best. That's our usual technique.
In short order, a postal worker looked at our package while I muttered something like "kaneegee b California" ("books to California") and we were off. She took our package, weighed it and then took the 6KG stack behind the counter and began to wrap it. Yes, wrap it, in kraft paper. No boxes, no tape. Just string and paste. We were instructed where precisely to put our addresses.
Fortunately, a young Muscovite was there to help translate "sea or air" - we opted for "sea" although now I'm wondering if that means our package will wind up at the bottom of the sea. She then grabbed a huge pile of stamps, glued them from an actual pot of glue, took our 1,000 ruble note and we waved goodbye to the package.
All I can say is I wish I had taken my video camera.
As we continue to pack and purge, we realized that we did not want to drag books and our winter clothes on the next leg of our journey. Solution: ship it home. After a confusing visit to our local post office, conveniently located downstairs, I found out that if you want to ship to America, you need to go to the central Moscow post office at the Chisty Prudy Metro station. So I packed three bags of books, grabbed tape, a scissors and a Sharpie and headed out.
Visits to municipal offices here in the Russian capital are usually an adventure, and this was no exception. The building looked reasonably Soviet enough, and there were many unhappy workers behind the counter. We must be in the right place, so we just jumped on the nearest queue and hoped for the best. That's our usual technique.
In short order, a postal worker looked at our package while I muttered something like "kaneegee b California" ("books to California") and we were off. She took our package, weighed it and then took the 6KG stack behind the counter and began to wrap it. Yes, wrap it, in kraft paper. No boxes, no tape. Just string and paste. We were instructed where precisely to put our addresses.
Fortunately, a young Muscovite was there to help translate "sea or air" - we opted for "sea" although now I'm wondering if that means our package will wind up at the bottom of the sea. She then grabbed a huge pile of stamps, glued them from an actual pot of glue, took our 1,000 ruble note and we waved goodbye to the package.
All I can say is I wish I had taken my video camera.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Riding through town on Tram 39
On our "to do" list forever has been a long north-south tram ride on one of the city's last tram lines - #39. We picked it up in the middle of a heavy fluff (called pukh) storm at the Chistye Prudy metro stop. We ran around many familiar sites. The tram line is just high enough above the street level to see some fun things like the Darwin Museum and the Moscow River. Oh and is that a nuclear power plant near Leninsky Prospect Metro station, right across from the Buck Rogers-esq Yuri Gagarin statue?
Looks like four cooling towers to me, smack in the middle of the city. Ah Moscow!
--Alison
Looks like four cooling towers to me, smack in the middle of the city. Ah Moscow!
--Alison
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Our Last Sunday in Russia
Larry:
We joined some friends for a leisurely daytime cruise down the Moscow River. It was a great way to say "desvedanya" to Moscow. We saw all the sights during our one and half hour cruise, from Kievskaya train station to the famous monastery we never visited, to Sparrow Hills and its bicyclists and ski jump, and on past the cathedral, the Kremlin and to the Stalin Tower where Alison and I couldn't find each other last week. Boat traffic on the river is sparse, and the river is wide, so it was quiet out there.
It is heavy pollen (aka Pukh) season, and even on the river, we couldn't escape what seemed like a snowstorm of the stuff.
From the river, we took a taxi to the Goose Pub, where two geese honk out greetings to everyone who enters the restaurant.
Then we came home and packed. We leave on Thursday.
We joined some friends for a leisurely daytime cruise down the Moscow River. It was a great way to say "desvedanya" to Moscow. We saw all the sights during our one and half hour cruise, from Kievskaya train station to the famous monastery we never visited, to Sparrow Hills and its bicyclists and ski jump, and on past the cathedral, the Kremlin and to the Stalin Tower where Alison and I couldn't find each other last week. Boat traffic on the river is sparse, and the river is wide, so it was quiet out there.
It is heavy pollen (aka Pukh) season, and even on the river, we couldn't escape what seemed like a snowstorm of the stuff.
From the river, we took a taxi to the Goose Pub, where two geese honk out greetings to everyone who enters the restaurant.
Then we came home and packed. We leave on Thursday.
Friday, June 5, 2009
At the American Center
Larry:
I spoke twice this week at the American Center, which is a State-Department-funded English public library here in Moscow. Speaking there is considered part of the teaching-in-Moscow experience. It was one of the highlights of the trip. As was the after-party at a nearby beer restaurant.
The center wrote up this blurb for its website on one of my speeches, and included a picture, too, which you can find here:
http://amcorners.ru/lecture-protecting-reporters-sources-us
I spoke twice this week at the American Center, which is a State-Department-funded English public library here in Moscow. Speaking there is considered part of the teaching-in-Moscow experience. It was one of the highlights of the trip. As was the after-party at a nearby beer restaurant.
The center wrote up this blurb for its website on one of my speeches, and included a picture, too, which you can find here:
http://amcorners.ru/lecture-protecting-reporters-sources-us
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Moscow Summer Camp, Day 4
From Alison:
Today is the fourth weekday without any school for Sasha. She had the option to go to day camp, but we could not motivate ourselves to make the 45 minute trek to her school for another week. Plus, she simply did not want to go. When her preschool ended last year in California, she was bawling. This year, simply no reaction. She was truly glad to be done. I can relate: great experience, time to move on.
We started the week's festivities with a trip to the Bolshoi, just mommy/daughter date, to see the Nutcracker. Sasha's favorite DVD right now is Barbie Nutcracker, so I figured, this is going to be a great jumping off point to many more mommy/daughter ballet adventures. Clearly, my expectation were too high.
After spilling chocolate sauce all over a white dress I stupidly agreed to buy her to initiate her into the world of ballet appreciation, Sasha began to yell and cry. This was at the the Scholode cafe across from the theatre. Not a good sign, but I went forward, ever optimistic. She refused to watch the parade of women and girls in their prettiest frocks entering the theatre. OK, I thought, that's one of my favorite thing, but hey, maybe not her cup of tea. We moved to our seats - fifth row center, orchestra. I pinched myself as the LIVE orchestra began to play. I am in Moscow, watching the Bolshoi, listening to Tchaikovsky.
And then the fun started. She would not stop talking. For a minute. Not even when the German lady next to her shh'd her. She would not stop moving and fidgeting. And - whistling - right along with the orchestra. She even shouted "hey, that's not supposed to happen now." I tried everything to engage her. I threatened. I pleaded. I slumped in my seat, a luckless wretch, while the annoyed stares of our seatmates bored into my back like laser beams.
I sadly realized that the amazing costumes and matching headpieces, the exquisite corps de ballet, and expensive tickets were all wasted on her - my chocolate spattered daughter was unable to sit through the most kid friendly ballet in existence. I practically wept in frustration as I dragged her out of the theatre at intermission and into the Metro. I will not recount here the conversation she and I had on the ride home.
Today is the fourth weekday without any school for Sasha. She had the option to go to day camp, but we could not motivate ourselves to make the 45 minute trek to her school for another week. Plus, she simply did not want to go. When her preschool ended last year in California, she was bawling. This year, simply no reaction. She was truly glad to be done. I can relate: great experience, time to move on.
We started the week's festivities with a trip to the Bolshoi, just mommy/daughter date, to see the Nutcracker. Sasha's favorite DVD right now is Barbie Nutcracker, so I figured, this is going to be a great jumping off point to many more mommy/daughter ballet adventures. Clearly, my expectation were too high.
After spilling chocolate sauce all over a white dress I stupidly agreed to buy her to initiate her into the world of ballet appreciation, Sasha began to yell and cry. This was at the the Scholode cafe across from the theatre. Not a good sign, but I went forward, ever optimistic. She refused to watch the parade of women and girls in their prettiest frocks entering the theatre. OK, I thought, that's one of my favorite thing, but hey, maybe not her cup of tea. We moved to our seats - fifth row center, orchestra. I pinched myself as the LIVE orchestra began to play. I am in Moscow, watching the Bolshoi, listening to Tchaikovsky.
And then the fun started. She would not stop talking. For a minute. Not even when the German lady next to her shh'd her. She would not stop moving and fidgeting. And - whistling - right along with the orchestra. She even shouted "hey, that's not supposed to happen now." I tried everything to engage her. I threatened. I pleaded. I slumped in my seat, a luckless wretch, while the annoyed stares of our seatmates bored into my back like laser beams.
I sadly realized that the amazing costumes and matching headpieces, the exquisite corps de ballet, and expensive tickets were all wasted on her - my chocolate spattered daughter was unable to sit through the most kid friendly ballet in existence. I practically wept in frustration as I dragged her out of the theatre at intermission and into the Metro. I will not recount here the conversation she and I had on the ride home.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Hot Weather, Da!; Hot Water, Nyet!
Larry:
This is supposedly Day 8 of life without hot water in our neighborhood. But it's really the first day we've had any problems.
Our neighborhood is supposed to be without hot water from May 25 until June 6, as part of annual shut off. But we didn't notice cold water until a few days later. At that point, we switched on the backup water heater in our apartment, and actually had hotter water than we were used to.
Then today, after a muggy Moscow day, we returned home to ice cold water. Sasha just attempted the first shower, which lasted 30 seconds. We've sent an email to our landlord, to find out what else we can do. If this is a Russian effort to get us to leave, we're ready. We are out of here on June 11.
Alison just re-read the notice from the city, which says we're supposed to be without hot water from 7 of May until 21 of May. Now we're really confused.
This is supposedly Day 8 of life without hot water in our neighborhood. But it's really the first day we've had any problems.
Our neighborhood is supposed to be without hot water from May 25 until June 6, as part of annual shut off. But we didn't notice cold water until a few days later. At that point, we switched on the backup water heater in our apartment, and actually had hotter water than we were used to.
Then today, after a muggy Moscow day, we returned home to ice cold water. Sasha just attempted the first shower, which lasted 30 seconds. We've sent an email to our landlord, to find out what else we can do. If this is a Russian effort to get us to leave, we're ready. We are out of here on June 11.
Alison just re-read the notice from the city, which says we're supposed to be without hot water from 7 of May until 21 of May. Now we're really confused.
A Day in the Golden Ring
We made it out of Moscow recently to Sergiev Posad, the closest of the quaint towns in the Golden Ring.
We took a bus out there, and came home on a packed commuter train. In between we toured Trinity Monastery of St. Sergius, which was impressive. As were the tulips.
Note Alison's headscarf in keeping with the monastery's request. Men have to remove their hats. Kids' headgear was open to interpretation.
Riding back to Moscow on a packed Sunday afternoon train.
We took a bus out there, and came home on a packed commuter train. In between we toured Trinity Monastery of St. Sergius, which was impressive. As were the tulips.
Note Alison's headscarf in keeping with the monastery's request. Men have to remove their hats. Kids' headgear was open to interpretation.
Riding back to Moscow on a packed Sunday afternoon train.
Having a Wonderful Time at Moscow Summer Camp
Sasha is out of school. She would like to watch TV all day and night. So in a pre-emptive move, we are keeping her busier than ever. We have been to Starlight Diner, an amusement park, the Bolshoi Ballet, a kids' store called "Wow Town," and on a playdate. Today Alison took her to the zoo, and Larry took her to the playground at Patriarch's Ponds, where Sasha said that the swing was too tight. Also on the list of things to do are a Moscow River boat cruise, the Dolphinarium, and the Darwin Museum (if it rains). We have babysitting reinforcements coming in tomorrow, so that may be enough to keep her occupied until we leave.
Sasha also likes to stay up with the sun. These days the sun is setting at 10 p.m. This makes for long days at camp.
--Larry
Sasha also likes to stay up with the sun. These days the sun is setting at 10 p.m. This makes for long days at camp.
--Larry
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Notes from the Classroom
Larry:
I've learned a few interesting things teaching university students in Russia:
1. Students come to the final who have never come to class. I guess a final is like throwing a great party, when more guests come than you expect.
2. Students who took my final in English don't necessarily understand English. This makes grading a breeze.
3. One handy cheating tip I learned from them is that if you tell the professor you need an English dictionary, you can then stuff a piece of paper in it with key points you will be tested on.
I've learned a few interesting things teaching university students in Russia:
1. Students come to the final who have never come to class. I guess a final is like throwing a great party, when more guests come than you expect.
2. Students who took my final in English don't necessarily understand English. This makes grading a breeze.
3. One handy cheating tip I learned from them is that if you tell the professor you need an English dictionary, you can then stuff a piece of paper in it with key points you will be tested on.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Crosswalk Hell
Alison:
My biggest fear in Moscow is getting hit by an aggressive driver while I'm walking to school with Sasha. The drivers frequently ignore crosswalks and sometimes even speed up.
Today's Moscow Times has an article on two pedestrians being mowed down in crosswalks. Roman Zhirov, an employee of the Interior Ministry, pulled into the lane of oncoming traffic to pass a car that had stopped at the crosswalk to let a pregnant woman pass. After Zhirov struck the woman, he raced away, but eyewitnesses wrote down his license plate number. He was never prosecuted despite leaving the scene of the crime.
http://www.moscowtimes.ru/article/1016/42/377460.htm
BTW, the fine for driving through a crosswalk in Moscow and cutting off a pedestrian? 100 rubles or about $3. That's about to change to 1,000 rubles or $30.
My biggest fear in Moscow is getting hit by an aggressive driver while I'm walking to school with Sasha. The drivers frequently ignore crosswalks and sometimes even speed up.
Today's Moscow Times has an article on two pedestrians being mowed down in crosswalks. Roman Zhirov, an employee of the Interior Ministry, pulled into the lane of oncoming traffic to pass a car that had stopped at the crosswalk to let a pregnant woman pass. After Zhirov struck the woman, he raced away, but eyewitnesses wrote down his license plate number. He was never prosecuted despite leaving the scene of the crime.
http://www.moscowtimes.ru/article/1016/42/377460.htm
BTW, the fine for driving through a crosswalk in Moscow and cutting off a pedestrian? 100 rubles or about $3. That's about to change to 1,000 rubles or $30.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Some Themes are Universal
Living in Moscow, we've let Sasha watch too much tv. Part of it is the weather, and not having kids in the building to play with. So her new best friend while we've been here has been Nick Jr., as in "Nickelodeon for kids." We try to keep her busy with activities--yesterday she had a playdate with a Dutch classmate--but weekends are the hardest.
Last night, we hid the remotes and went out. The babysitter reported that Sasha wasn't happy. That mood has continued into this morning.
We're going cold turkey today. Or so we hope. Stay tuned.
- Larry
Last night, we hid the remotes and went out. The babysitter reported that Sasha wasn't happy. That mood has continued into this morning.
We're going cold turkey today. Or so we hope. Stay tuned.
- Larry
Love note from the City of Moscow
We received a note from the city informing us that our hot water will be shut down on 25 May. I, naive woman that I am, thought this meant we will be without water on 25 May. However, I was informed tonight at dinner, that no,no, the hot water shortage will BEGIN on 25 May and can last oh, 2 and possibly 3 weeks. I can hardly wait for the heat wave to correspond to the arrival of no showers in the VDnK part of the town.
The good news: our friends in other parts of the city will have hot water and I guess we will traipse across town, rubber duckies in tow for showers. BTW, this also means no dishwasher or clothes washer.
- Alison
The good news: our friends in other parts of the city will have hot water and I guess we will traipse across town, rubber duckies in tow for showers. BTW, this also means no dishwasher or clothes washer.
- Alison
Thursday, May 21, 2009
May 9 Memories
May 9 in Russia is a combination of Memorial Day and July 4. We decided to skip the big military hardware parade, and went to a local park for a picnic. The weather was fine, the natives were friendly, and we stumbled upon a dance troupe performing in traditional costumes and military uniforms. We felt like we'd stumbled upon something real--the audience sang along to traditional tunes, and everyone seemed joyful.
On another joyful note, we're leaving three weeks from today.
On another joyful note, we're leaving three weeks from today.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Center stage
Sasha finally had her chance to participate in a school performance - they have one every 3 weeks or so. Thus far, she's sat on the sidelines, but as you can see from the video, this time she really got her groove on.
Here's our darling Американская девушка - American Girl
- Alison
Friday, May 15, 2009
Metro Blues
If you ride the Metro as many hours a day as I do - between school pick up/drop off, grocery shopping and just general getting around - a certain crabbiness can set in. Especially when caught in a hailstorm which soaked me thru the skin despite a raincoat, umbrella and hat. It was the puddles that did me in. I suppose there are storm sewers somewhere in Moscow, but maybe they are all plugged up with beer and vodka bottles. There's no recycling here, so hey, why not throw your empty adult beverage container in the gutter?
But I digress, back to my metro snark. In spring, the doors come off the Metro entrances. Hurray! Sasha was always getting smacked by the two way swinging doors. Now we only have to worry about a single door. But spring also brings heat which amplifies the odorific tendencies of Muscovites - and I'm sorry to say it, but it's mostly smelly men. So it is with this delicious co-mingling of aromas - vodka, garlic and BO that I now ride squished like a sardine with my fellow riders. Sweat and garlic are natural so I can deal with it. In fairness, the city is shutting down the hot water throughout the city during a two week rotation. But vodka at 9:30 AM, there's something just not right about that.
Everyday, I dutifully wait my turn to be jostled while riding up the ten minute escalator from my VDkH station to the smokey underpass which leads to our apartment. Normally I am not carrying two very heavy bags of groceries. Normally, I don't have to wait for two trains to pass in order to squeeeeze into a tiny space for the four station ride from Prospect Mira to VDkH. And normally, I don't give a shit about the fact that middle escalator is **never** working in the afternoon. But today, I cared.
Deeply.
I became a metro rage-aholic watching the red capped middle aged meany who "runs" the escalators or whatever she is pretending to do while watching all those TV monitors. I mean, hello, there are people pushing and shoving elderly and young children to ride up the single escalator while the middle one sits there operational, but gated off. Let's say for arguments sake you want to I dunno *walk* up the escalator. Nyet. let's say they are trying to save energy, why can't I just walk? Nyet.
I believe it is a sport here in Russia: how can I say no in as many ways to cause as much aggravation to the asking party as possible. Today I lost. Tonight I will drink a beer and forget.
But I digress, back to my metro snark. In spring, the doors come off the Metro entrances. Hurray! Sasha was always getting smacked by the two way swinging doors. Now we only have to worry about a single door. But spring also brings heat which amplifies the odorific tendencies of Muscovites - and I'm sorry to say it, but it's mostly smelly men. So it is with this delicious co-mingling of aromas - vodka, garlic and BO that I now ride squished like a sardine with my fellow riders. Sweat and garlic are natural so I can deal with it. In fairness, the city is shutting down the hot water throughout the city during a two week rotation. But vodka at 9:30 AM, there's something just not right about that.
Everyday, I dutifully wait my turn to be jostled while riding up the ten minute escalator from my VDkH station to the smokey underpass which leads to our apartment. Normally I am not carrying two very heavy bags of groceries. Normally, I don't have to wait for two trains to pass in order to squeeeeze into a tiny space for the four station ride from Prospect Mira to VDkH. And normally, I don't give a shit about the fact that middle escalator is **never** working in the afternoon. But today, I cared.
Deeply.
I became a metro rage-aholic watching the red capped middle aged meany who "runs" the escalators or whatever she is pretending to do while watching all those TV monitors. I mean, hello, there are people pushing and shoving elderly and young children to ride up the single escalator while the middle one sits there operational, but gated off. Let's say for arguments sake you want to I dunno *walk* up the escalator. Nyet. let's say they are trying to save energy, why can't I just walk? Nyet.
I believe it is a sport here in Russia: how can I say no in as many ways to cause as much aggravation to the asking party as possible. Today I lost. Tonight I will drink a beer and forget.
And the Winner is...
Gabriella S. of Mountain View, California. The answer is "Charles de Gaulle" - Gabriella will be receiving a care package from Moscow containing borscht, blinis and brown bread. Congratulations!
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Lost in Transliteration, with your host Alekeevskaya Trubekskaya
It's Moscow Jeopardy. Under the category "Famous French Leaders" for 250 rubles,
here's your answer, and a picture clue: "He was a famous French general who went on to a successful political career." Answer is in picture two at the very top. First contestant to ring in successfully, wins a "Nestle for Men" candy bar. Winner will be announced soon!
Friday, May 8, 2009
I, Yoda - Mom Tips
It was inevitable that at some point in the journey, we would become the sought after experts. We have been approached by several new Fulbrighters and expats-to-be. I identify with the panic in their emails - that was me back in January.
So to all those would-be Muscovites with small kids, whether by choice or not, I have prepared this random list. Or is you aren't planning to come, you can read along and think "boy am I lucky to live in America."
1. Yes, Moscow is hideously expensive. Yes, you can buy most of what you need, but it will be expensive and hard to find. Target is not in Russia.
2. Staying warm during the long Russian winter. Buildings are extremely overheated so leave your bulky sweaters at home and bring lots of T shirts. In Feb & March, you will be sweating as never before. People run their air conditioners in the winter here!
== > Go to landsend.com and buy your kids the heaviest weight jackets and pants. While on the site, buy 4-6 pairs of mittens in the same color and same design per child. Kids lose their mittens. Mittens are not easily found here. For adults, you can buy warm coats here - women wear fur on the Metro - but they will be expensive. If you have a fur coats lurking in the closet, this is the time to wear bring it out - apologies to PETA. You will thank me one freezing morning for this advice.
3. Bring along your favorite cosmetics and anything you truly love from Walgreens this includes toothpaste and artificial sweetener. Peanut butter is available, but if you want organic Trader Joe's brand, bring it. Lots of it.
4. You are about to become a sherpa extraordinaire.
== > Go the Container Store and buy the lightweight, foldable nylon bags. You will be using this bag for everything. While you're there, consider the gallon Brita filter container to ship over. There is no recycling in Moscow, you shouldn't drink the tap and it's a major drag to schlep huge bottles of water up to your apartment.
5. Schools - we never really figured this out particularly well. The best "advice" I can give: live close to your school and make your working spouse commute a longer distance. On Feb 6th, when you haven't seen the sun for six weeks and it's icy and bitterly cold, you will thank me for this advice as well. Of course you will be cursing Moscow by that point and forget all about me, but I understand.
6. Language. Russians do not speak or read English - well the youngins do, but they're too busy smoking and drinking to help you out. Do yourself a BIG favor. Invest in at least 10 tutor led sessions. From a Muscovite if at all possible. You do not want to land here an illiterate. If you cannot read Cyrillic, you best learn how before you arrive. Street signs, food packaging and everything else is in Cyrillic. See our previous blog on eating *liver* pancakes when we thought it was *potato.*
The Russians have been doing it this way since the 8th century and they don't give a damn what you think.
7. Join AWO - American Women's Org. These are a great group of women, most professional expats. They have special interest groups, are very open & friendly and are know where to get everything from a good obstetrician to aluminiun foil. They are empathetic and have really saved me. They drink wine at lunch, what more do you need to know?
8. Relax about medical care. If I could, I would bring my Moscow doctor home with me, he's fantastic. The new moms tell me their birthing experience was better here than in the US. This is another reason to join AWO.
9. Also relax about "maintenance issues." Russian woman know all about mani-pedis, hair color, cuts, etc. It can be a fortune, but they are experts and will not rush through your appointment. And it's possible to find an English speaking salon.
10. Do not watch Dr. Zhivago before boarding the plane - you will only freak yourself out. Keep in mind it was published in 1957, but not in Russia until 1988. There is a reason for this.
Look out for tips for Men in an upcoming blog installment.
So to all those would-be Muscovites with small kids, whether by choice or not, I have prepared this random list. Or is you aren't planning to come, you can read along and think "boy am I lucky to live in America."
1. Yes, Moscow is hideously expensive. Yes, you can buy most of what you need, but it will be expensive and hard to find. Target is not in Russia.
2. Staying warm during the long Russian winter. Buildings are extremely overheated so leave your bulky sweaters at home and bring lots of T shirts. In Feb & March, you will be sweating as never before. People run their air conditioners in the winter here!
== > Go to landsend.com and buy your kids the heaviest weight jackets and pants. While on the site, buy 4-6 pairs of mittens in the same color and same design per child. Kids lose their mittens. Mittens are not easily found here. For adults, you can buy warm coats here - women wear fur on the Metro - but they will be expensive. If you have a fur coats lurking in the closet, this is the time to wear bring it out - apologies to PETA. You will thank me one freezing morning for this advice.
3. Bring along your favorite cosmetics and anything you truly love from Walgreens this includes toothpaste and artificial sweetener. Peanut butter is available, but if you want organic Trader Joe's brand, bring it. Lots of it.
4. You are about to become a sherpa extraordinaire.
== > Go the Container Store and buy the lightweight, foldable nylon bags. You will be using this bag for everything. While you're there, consider the gallon Brita filter container to ship over. There is no recycling in Moscow, you shouldn't drink the tap and it's a major drag to schlep huge bottles of water up to your apartment.
5. Schools - we never really figured this out particularly well. The best "advice" I can give: live close to your school and make your working spouse commute a longer distance. On Feb 6th, when you haven't seen the sun for six weeks and it's icy and bitterly cold, you will thank me for this advice as well. Of course you will be cursing Moscow by that point and forget all about me, but I understand.
6. Language. Russians do not speak or read English - well the youngins do, but they're too busy smoking and drinking to help you out. Do yourself a BIG favor. Invest in at least 10 tutor led sessions. From a Muscovite if at all possible. You do not want to land here an illiterate. If you cannot read Cyrillic, you best learn how before you arrive. Street signs, food packaging and everything else is in Cyrillic. See our previous blog on eating *liver* pancakes when we thought it was *potato.*
The Russians have been doing it this way since the 8th century and they don't give a damn what you think.
7. Join AWO - American Women's Org. These are a great group of women, most professional expats. They have special interest groups, are very open & friendly and are know where to get everything from a good obstetrician to aluminiun foil. They are empathetic and have really saved me. They drink wine at lunch, what more do you need to know?
8. Relax about medical care. If I could, I would bring my Moscow doctor home with me, he's fantastic. The new moms tell me their birthing experience was better here than in the US. This is another reason to join AWO.
9. Also relax about "maintenance issues." Russian woman know all about mani-pedis, hair color, cuts, etc. It can be a fortune, but they are experts and will not rush through your appointment. And it's possible to find an English speaking salon.
10. Do not watch Dr. Zhivago before boarding the plane - you will only freak yourself out. Keep in mind it was published in 1957, but not in Russia until 1988. There is a reason for this.
Look out for tips for Men in an upcoming blog installment.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
A Display of Military Muscle
Sasha and I (Larry) were behind schedule this morning as we walked
to her school. Two blocks from our destination, we were ready to duck into the pedestrian underpass on the Garden Ring, one of the major traffic arteries through Moscow. But as we descended the steps, a police officer blocked our way. I then noticed that there was no traffic on the Garden Ring, and barricades were up. Orange trucks blocked traffic from entering the street. It looked like a parade (or a coup?) was about to begin.
Did I mention that it was also raining, our umbrella was broken, and we were getting drenched?
Victory Day, which celebrates the end of World War II, is celebrated here on Saturday with major displays of military might. But armaments have been on display all week. On Tuesday, Alison called from downtown Moscow to report that jets were flying low- really low--over downtown. We guessed they were practicing.
Today's parade may have also been a dress rehearsal for Saturday. There were hummers, tanks, and countless numbers of gargantuan missiles being towed down the Garden Ring. From time to time,
the display of weapons was interrupted by jeeps holding four of five military officers who looked as stiff as their uniforms. Having been raised on a steady diet of Rose Parades in Pasadena, I expected the officers to wave, or acknowledge the crowd. But no air kisses here. The audience watched without responding, although many took pictures with their cellphones.
Sasha was oblivious to the charms of military hardware. "I'm going to miss my snack!," she told me over and over again.
"What do you want me to do?," I said, sounding like my own father. I urged patience, as thick clouds of smoke from the war machines wafted into the crowd.
Ten minutes later, it was over. And Sasha made it to school in time for her morning crackers and apple juice.
to her school. Two blocks from our destination, we were ready to duck into the pedestrian underpass on the Garden Ring, one of the major traffic arteries through Moscow. But as we descended the steps, a police officer blocked our way. I then noticed that there was no traffic on the Garden Ring, and barricades were up. Orange trucks blocked traffic from entering the street. It looked like a parade (or a coup?) was about to begin.
Did I mention that it was also raining, our umbrella was broken, and we were getting drenched?
Victory Day, which celebrates the end of World War II, is celebrated here on Saturday with major displays of military might. But armaments have been on display all week. On Tuesday, Alison called from downtown Moscow to report that jets were flying low- really low--over downtown. We guessed they were practicing.
Today's parade may have also been a dress rehearsal for Saturday. There were hummers, tanks, and countless numbers of gargantuan missiles being towed down the Garden Ring. From time to time,
the display of weapons was interrupted by jeeps holding four of five military officers who looked as stiff as their uniforms. Having been raised on a steady diet of Rose Parades in Pasadena, I expected the officers to wave, or acknowledge the crowd. But no air kisses here. The audience watched without responding, although many took pictures with their cellphones.
Sasha was oblivious to the charms of military hardware. "I'm going to miss my snack!," she told me over and over again.
"What do you want me to do?," I said, sounding like my own father. I urged patience, as thick clouds of smoke from the war machines wafted into the crowd.
Ten minutes later, it was over. And Sasha made it to school in time for her morning crackers and apple juice.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Why (I think) Russian women wear panty hose
Warning - this blog is highly frivolous.
Yesterday, I finally got tickets to visit to Armory museum where the thrones, gifts, jewelry and carriages from the Tsars are housed. I am about to link together this visit to the Armory and pantyhose, so hang with me.
Let me start by saying I am huge admirer of "important jewelry." However, at the Armory, it's impossible not to be taken aback by the sheer gaudiness of the collection--huge 100 ct. emeralds in a bible cover, gold covered carriages, horse harnesses bedecked in silver and pearl. All fun, but a little over the top. Which made me think about how Muscovite women dress.
Sorry, but I need a quick history detour here. Back in the 17th & 18th centuries, Peter the Great dragged Russia out of the medieval times to such an extent that by his death in 1725, Russia was considered a leading eastern European state. He wouldn't allow anyone in court to wear anything but Westernized dress.
But of course, as shown in the Armory clothing collection, this was the Russian interpretation of the latest French fashions. So... 150,000 pearls are sewn on a dress and gold thread is on the 15m long train and the lace took five years to spin in Brugge, etc, etc. You get the idea. Fast forward to 2009.
Throughout the cold winter months, I was convinced the pantyhose/thong undergarment torture combo was to keep warm. If you have to wear long johns, why not tights which are far prettier? I know about the thongs based on my locker room experiences, so trust me on this one.
But the weather is now scorching and humid and the tights have morphed into pantyhose. Now I haven't voluntarily worn pantyhose since 1991 when I moved to California. It's hot. It's itchy and frankly, the nude variety is really dated. So why all the panty hose here?
My current theory is that Russian fashionistas, like their Tsarina sisters of bygone eras, like a certain line, a certain over the top interpretation on the current fashion. A trip, short cut of skirt or trim trouser and frankly, visible panty lines will simply not do. And you've got to wear something on your feet to keep one's four-inch stilletos from forming blisters. So VOILA! Nude pantyhose on all the ladies from young to old, from pencil skirts to skintight jeans.
Having worn pantyhose in a hot NYC, I can appreciate the sacrifice it takes and I'm sure the Russian men sincerely appreciate the effort.
Yesterday, I finally got tickets to visit to Armory museum where the thrones, gifts, jewelry and carriages from the Tsars are housed. I am about to link together this visit to the Armory and pantyhose, so hang with me.
Let me start by saying I am huge admirer of "important jewelry." However, at the Armory, it's impossible not to be taken aback by the sheer gaudiness of the collection--huge 100 ct. emeralds in a bible cover, gold covered carriages, horse harnesses bedecked in silver and pearl. All fun, but a little over the top. Which made me think about how Muscovite women dress.
Sorry, but I need a quick history detour here. Back in the 17th & 18th centuries, Peter the Great dragged Russia out of the medieval times to such an extent that by his death in 1725, Russia was considered a leading eastern European state. He wouldn't allow anyone in court to wear anything but Westernized dress.
But of course, as shown in the Armory clothing collection, this was the Russian interpretation of the latest French fashions. So... 150,000 pearls are sewn on a dress and gold thread is on the 15m long train and the lace took five years to spin in Brugge, etc, etc. You get the idea. Fast forward to 2009.
Throughout the cold winter months, I was convinced the pantyhose/thong undergarment torture combo was to keep warm. If you have to wear long johns, why not tights which are far prettier? I know about the thongs based on my locker room experiences, so trust me on this one.
But the weather is now scorching and humid and the tights have morphed into pantyhose. Now I haven't voluntarily worn pantyhose since 1991 when I moved to California. It's hot. It's itchy and frankly, the nude variety is really dated. So why all the panty hose here?
My current theory is that Russian fashionistas, like their Tsarina sisters of bygone eras, like a certain line, a certain over the top interpretation on the current fashion. A trip, short cut of skirt or trim trouser and frankly, visible panty lines will simply not do. And you've got to wear something on your feet to keep one's four-inch stilletos from forming blisters. So VOILA! Nude pantyhose on all the ladies from young to old, from pencil skirts to skintight jeans.
Having worn pantyhose in a hot NYC, I can appreciate the sacrifice it takes and I'm sure the Russian men sincerely appreciate the effort.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Swinging through the Baltics
Milda - the statue of Latvian independence. In Soviet times, you could be sent to the Gulag for putting a wreath at her feet. These days, there are Latvian soldiers guarding the base and yes, flowers. Lots of musicians seranading her on May Day.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Larry here:
Back from a week in the Baltic states. We made it to two out of three, Estonia and Latvia. Lithuania will have to wait. It was a family vacation, meaning we saw every swing and slide in the two countries. Latvia wins for variety of swingsets, and Estonia wins for best swingset close to our hotel. In Estonia, continuing the family theme, we stayed at a hotel attached to a waterpark.
We made it to one cafe/restaurant in Riga, Osiris, that we'd seen in the New York Times' 36 Hours in Riga. But due to a parental discretion advisory, decided to skip the restaurant there called Hospitalis, where pink-haired nurses serve patients at hospital tables.
How lucky am I to be able to muse about such everyday matters. We took a train back to Moscow through country that must have been familiar to my Sokoloff grandparents, close to the Belarussian and Polish shtetls of their early 20th century childhoods. My grandparents got out just in time, and many other relatives perished in the World War II Holocaust in this region. It looked so peaceful on a warm spring night, with aging wood barns and cabins still dotting the landscape. But it was a place my grandparents rarely were nostalgic about. My grandmother recalled hiding in the woods during World War I, and my grandfather remembered the hardships that led him to leave for America. Two generations later I am back, thinking of them and the choices they made.
Back from a week in the Baltic states. We made it to two out of three, Estonia and Latvia. Lithuania will have to wait. It was a family vacation, meaning we saw every swing and slide in the two countries. Latvia wins for variety of swingsets, and Estonia wins for best swingset close to our hotel. In Estonia, continuing the family theme, we stayed at a hotel attached to a waterpark.
We made it to one cafe/restaurant in Riga, Osiris, that we'd seen in the New York Times' 36 Hours in Riga. But due to a parental discretion advisory, decided to skip the restaurant there called Hospitalis, where pink-haired nurses serve patients at hospital tables.
How lucky am I to be able to muse about such everyday matters. We took a train back to Moscow through country that must have been familiar to my Sokoloff grandparents, close to the Belarussian and Polish shtetls of their early 20th century childhoods. My grandparents got out just in time, and many other relatives perished in the World War II Holocaust in this region. It looked so peaceful on a warm spring night, with aging wood barns and cabins still dotting the landscape. But it was a place my grandparents rarely were nostalgic about. My grandmother recalled hiding in the woods during World War I, and my grandfather remembered the hardships that led him to leave for America. Two generations later I am back, thinking of them and the choices they made.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Riga mortis
Spring has gone nuts here in Riga. This is a very nice city, beautiful architecture, nice people, etc., but L says he doesn't want to go Kiev now as we've sort of done the "Eastern European" thing.
I know what he means on one level, coming here, I was well aware of its hideous Holocaust past. All the city's residents were forced into a ghetto and then killed in that ghetto. And then for good measure, the Nazis shipped another 25,000 Jews in from Lithuania and Poland and then *they* were killed.
There's a concentration camp tour right outside of town. Tonight, we ate dinner at kosher restaurant. It was a cozy place, but right behind the counter was a "Latvian Jewish Cemetery Guide" and a map of "Jewish Life in Holocaust era Latvia."
Here's the restaurant
The depressing point is this: you can't come to eastern Europe and not contemplate the miserably difficult truth. So we may be done for awhile. Not sure I'm really up for seeing the same scene in Ukraine.
Sorry to go so dark on a beautiful spring day, but the past here is inescapable.
I know what he means on one level, coming here, I was well aware of its hideous Holocaust past. All the city's residents were forced into a ghetto and then killed in that ghetto. And then for good measure, the Nazis shipped another 25,000 Jews in from Lithuania and Poland and then *they* were killed.
There's a concentration camp tour right outside of town. Tonight, we ate dinner at kosher restaurant. It was a cozy place, but right behind the counter was a "Latvian Jewish Cemetery Guide" and a map of "Jewish Life in Holocaust era Latvia."
Here's the restaurant
The depressing point is this: you can't come to eastern Europe and not contemplate the miserably difficult truth. So we may be done for awhile. Not sure I'm really up for seeing the same scene in Ukraine.
Sorry to go so dark on a beautiful spring day, but the past here is inescapable.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Sorry to sound like the Estonian Tourist Bureau, but Tallinn, Estonia, is a wonderful medieval town, set on a hill overlooking the sea, with super nice people. That alone makes it as different from Moscow as you can stick a pin in. We are having a lovely rest and are sad to be leaving after three days. I'm not sure I would appreciate this town as much if it hadn't been after a Moscow winter, but I just find this town incredibly charming and relaxing. It's a mix of Scandinavian meets the "whew, we're not part of Russia anymore, let's party" sensibility.
Larry: they even served us beer at breakfast when we arrived on Sunday morning.
We are off to Riga, Latvia, tomorrow via bus. We have never traveled on a bus with Sasha before for five hours. Ought to be interesting. Please, let the DVD player batteries last...
Larry: they even served us beer at breakfast when we arrived on Sunday morning.
We are off to Riga, Latvia, tomorrow via bus. We have never traveled on a bus with Sasha before for five hours. Ought to be interesting. Please, let the DVD player batteries last...
Friday, April 24, 2009
Blowing out of town
Finishing up Week 10 in the Russian capital and it's finally, L's spring break.
We are heading north to Estonia and then Latvia, with perhaps a day trip to Helsinki. I am weary of the cold, but of course, now that we're leaving town, the Moscow weather forecast is for 70 degrees, which is AKA The Larry Band of Comfort.
Today, L and I went for a walk in the almost-but-not-quite thawed Chisty Prudy (Clean Ponds) neighborhood. The ice had definitely thinned out, but it could still keep a beer bottle from sinking. As it's Friday, there were many Russians enjoying the balmy 48-degree weather and sitting on benches drinking beer. No open container laws here. Everyone appeared to be having a good time and behaving themselves. Fast forward to 10 P.M., and I'm not sure the scene will quite be the same.
We are heading north to Estonia and then Latvia, with perhaps a day trip to Helsinki. I am weary of the cold, but of course, now that we're leaving town, the Moscow weather forecast is for 70 degrees, which is AKA The Larry Band of Comfort.
Today, L and I went for a walk in the almost-but-not-quite thawed Chisty Prudy (Clean Ponds) neighborhood. The ice had definitely thinned out, but it could still keep a beer bottle from sinking. As it's Friday, there were many Russians enjoying the balmy 48-degree weather and sitting on benches drinking beer. No open container laws here. Everyone appeared to be having a good time and behaving themselves. Fast forward to 10 P.M., and I'm not sure the scene will quite be the same.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Heat Wave at Home, Snowing here
We hear from our friends in California that there is a heat wave going
on.
Not here. We woke up to snow on the ground. No one in Moscow got the memo that global warming is happening.
Alison braved the weather, took a metro to the end of the line, and was prepared to for a Nordic walk with a new group. She got there and no one else showed up. The leader said she'd canceled this morning, and hadn't Alison gotten the email? Nyet. It still hasn't arrived.
Alison did the hike herself, through some tundra-like park. Then she
met up with Larry, to explore what we hoped was a cool art gallery at
the former Red October chocolate factory. After trekking through the
snow, which is a fancy way of saying that we got lost as usual on a cold day, the
guard told us that the art gallery was no longer open, having closed
two days ago. Okay, so it's not the end of the world.
After finding a warm place to have lunch, we went to Sasha's school
where we had seven people in a parent-teacher conference. Sasha
complains daily that she hates her school. It's all Russian, and confusing. Her nice
teacher only speaks Russian, so we had a translator, along with a few
staff members and Sasha at the meeting. After taking Sasha's testimony,
the bilateral commission adjourned for the day, issued a press release
and agreed to keep talking. Okay. What really happened is we all
talked, and came to no conclusions about what to do next.
This wasn't in in our parents manual.
Sasha is going on vacation next week, so hopefully it will work itself
out.
on.
Not here. We woke up to snow on the ground. No one in Moscow got the memo that global warming is happening.
Alison braved the weather, took a metro to the end of the line, and was prepared to for a Nordic walk with a new group. She got there and no one else showed up. The leader said she'd canceled this morning, and hadn't Alison gotten the email? Nyet. It still hasn't arrived.
Alison did the hike herself, through some tundra-like park. Then she
met up with Larry, to explore what we hoped was a cool art gallery at
the former Red October chocolate factory. After trekking through the
snow, which is a fancy way of saying that we got lost as usual on a cold day, the
guard told us that the art gallery was no longer open, having closed
two days ago. Okay, so it's not the end of the world.
After finding a warm place to have lunch, we went to Sasha's school
where we had seven people in a parent-teacher conference. Sasha
complains daily that she hates her school. It's all Russian, and confusing. Her nice
teacher only speaks Russian, so we had a translator, along with a few
staff members and Sasha at the meeting. After taking Sasha's testimony,
the bilateral commission adjourned for the day, issued a press release
and agreed to keep talking. Okay. What really happened is we all
talked, and came to no conclusions about what to do next.
This wasn't in in our parents manual.
Sasha is going on vacation next week, so hopefully it will work itself
out.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Mice Jumping out of Helicopters at the Circus
A truly memorable visit to our third Moscow Circus. This one is called the Durov Animal Theatre: http://www.ugolokdurova.ru/
It's most famous for its mice train. You read that correctly. It mildly intrigued us, but the description didn't seem to compare to the Cat Circus we attended a few weeks back. We were just two parents looking for a way to amuse a 5-year-old.
We were wrong about the mice train. We can't make this stuff up. Sasha broke the camera yesteday so we can't send photos. You're going to have to believe us, or wonder what we're drinking.
The scene:
Mice on small train enter stage left.
Mice train meets up with hovering helicopter (on a rope), carrying one bored chubby cat. Ladder drops down from helicopter. Several white mice climb up rope ladder to their own cat-free compartment of helicopter, safe for now. Helicopter crosses stage.
A few minutes later, mice drop out of helicopter, wearing parachutes. They jump into nets held by cast members. Bored cat begins to wonder what he's been drinking.
Act ends.
Sure, just your average day at the circus. Also a sommersaulting bear, four tigers, a raccoon, a "fire" put out by a crew of poodles. And Pomeranians double Dutch rope jumping. Then we went home in a snowstorm. It's late April in Moscow.
It's most famous for its mice train. You read that correctly. It mildly intrigued us, but the description didn't seem to compare to the Cat Circus we attended a few weeks back. We were just two parents looking for a way to amuse a 5-year-old.
We were wrong about the mice train. We can't make this stuff up. Sasha broke the camera yesteday so we can't send photos. You're going to have to believe us, or wonder what we're drinking.
The scene:
Mice on small train enter stage left.
Mice train meets up with hovering helicopter (on a rope), carrying one bored chubby cat. Ladder drops down from helicopter. Several white mice climb up rope ladder to their own cat-free compartment of helicopter, safe for now. Helicopter crosses stage.
A few minutes later, mice drop out of helicopter, wearing parachutes. They jump into nets held by cast members. Bored cat begins to wonder what he's been drinking.
Act ends.
Sure, just your average day at the circus. Also a sommersaulting bear, four tigers, a raccoon, a "fire" put out by a crew of poodles. And Pomeranians double Dutch rope jumping. Then we went home in a snowstorm. It's late April in Moscow.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Spring, continued
This has been one of the high points of our Moscow residency. First, Spring busted out at all once--the sun has been out for four days, the temps are in the low 60s, and the whole town is in a good mood, at least by Russian standards. We're seeing flower bulbs in the parks, and fountains there have been turned on. We've also had visitors from New York, and played tour guide the past three days. Highlights of their visit included visits to Red Square and the Kremlin, and walking across the Moscow River to the Old Arbat, where costumed drunk twentysomethings played guitars, drank beer, danced and sat in the sun. It's a whole different city when the snow is gone and the sun is shining and the smell of fresh paint is wafting through the air. Alison claims she can tell it's lead-based paint.
We started this morning at the Tretyakov Gallery, in a neighborhood of winding streets and Old World Charm. The Tretyakov shows Russian art up until the 20th century.
Then onto a much-anticipated lunch at Cafe Pushkin, considered to be the one of the best restaurants in Moscow. You'd think you were in a nineteenth century building. In one meal, the Pushkin can change your entire perception of Russian cuisine. Here's some of the things we ate: quail eggs, giblet pate, herring, borscht with goose livers, sauerkraut soup with veal, and almond ice cream.
Our visitors are returning on Saturday, and we're looking forward to more adventures with them. Sunday, we're taking Sasha to another circus, this one featuring a mice train.
We started this morning at the Tretyakov Gallery, in a neighborhood of winding streets and Old World Charm. The Tretyakov shows Russian art up until the 20th century.
Then onto a much-anticipated lunch at Cafe Pushkin, considered to be the one of the best restaurants in Moscow. You'd think you were in a nineteenth century building. In one meal, the Pushkin can change your entire perception of Russian cuisine. Here's some of the things we ate: quail eggs, giblet pate, herring, borscht with goose livers, sauerkraut soup with veal, and almond ice cream.
Our visitors are returning on Saturday, and we're looking forward to more adventures with them. Sunday, we're taking Sasha to another circus, this one featuring a mice train.
Moscow River v. Paris' Seine
Larry: What's up Alison? Tell me about your trip to the Uruguayuan ambassador's house.
Alison: In in effort to meet more English speakers, I went to the International Women's Group of Moscow general meeting, held at the ambassador's house. It was a faded, old mansion in a Beaux Art part of town. I was jealous because you got to go to American ambassador's house on Monday. This was not the same experience, lots of women jammed into a too small ballroom. So, see any good sites in Moscow this week?
Larry: I think you were with me, but I'd say the highlight was discovering a glass covered pedestrian bridge across the Moscow River on Saturday. The river banks reminded me of Paris--
Alison: Hold on, Paris? How about Petersburg?
Larry: How about both cities?
Alison: It was a nice view, and a part of the city you rarely see photographed, which is a shame. The view was so nice, we walked across the river *again* that evening sans Le Sash. At night, with the smokestacks hidden, it did look vaguely Parisienne.
Larry: We should go back and take pictures, so our readers can see it, too.
Alison: In in effort to meet more English speakers, I went to the International Women's Group of Moscow general meeting, held at the ambassador's house. It was a faded, old mansion in a Beaux Art part of town. I was jealous because you got to go to American ambassador's house on Monday. This was not the same experience, lots of women jammed into a too small ballroom. So, see any good sites in Moscow this week?
Larry: I think you were with me, but I'd say the highlight was discovering a glass covered pedestrian bridge across the Moscow River on Saturday. The river banks reminded me of Paris--
Alison: Hold on, Paris? How about Petersburg?
Larry: How about both cities?
Alison: It was a nice view, and a part of the city you rarely see photographed, which is a shame. The view was so nice, we walked across the river *again* that evening sans Le Sash. At night, with the smokestacks hidden, it did look vaguely Parisienne.
Larry: We should go back and take pictures, so our readers can see it, too.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Some basic economic indicator thoughts
Our trip to buy Passover matza lead to yet another adventure. We located a synagogue guarded by Uzi-toting guards and metal detectors with a matza depot around the corner. The level of security at the syngogue was on par with places I've seen in Israel. I'm used to seeing metal detectors and guards at clearly Jewish establishments. But the Uzis and the bullet proof vests were a bit alarming.
Security aside, when I went to buy the matza, I found out it was about $1.25 for a kilo box. That's the cheapest I have ever seen. The price even surprised my mom.
I am frequently asked about prices here in the Russian capital. Moscow has the distinction of being the most expensive city in the world. But I would say the prices are the most *confusing* in the world. Some things are heavily subsidized, others are tarrifed, some just make no sense. A brief sampling:
Bread - good stuff we buy at the stand near the Metro: 30c a loaf
Milk - also good Russian brands: $1/liter
Gasoline - 50c/liter, so that's less than $2/gallon
Cappuccino, nice place: $10
Cappuccino, not so nice place like a Starbucks: $5-6
Latte, McDonalds: $2, small cup
Apples: $4/pound.
Sandwich, crappy quality: $10-15
Beer, decent Russian brand: $1 bottle (and may I say, a BIG bottle)
Vodka, - all I can say: cheaper than Coke, a lot cheaper
Candy bars, all imported: $1
Cheese: Russian brand $5/pound; cheddar: $8 half pound.
Copy of In Style magazine: $25
I have not seen Oprah magazine here, so can't report on that.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Ten things you didn't know about us
1. We shipped personal items from the US before we left on Feb. 7. The box arrived a week later, but customs here takes it time before releasing it. Finally, last week, they rejected the box, and sent it back to the US because it had a "prescription" in it. As far as we can tell, that prescription was a box of sudafed. We hand carried our actual prescriptions with us. What a country, eh?
2. Our computer was down for two days over the weekend. We went to McDonald's to use the internet.
3. Larry's teaching schedule changes about as much as the weather. He had a class with 25 students last Thursday, then a class with one student last Friday. Stay tuned for latest enrollment figures.
4. There is an H & M here--the Swedish department store--that opened a few weeks ago. It is part of a large, Western-style mall, that has two Starbucks and a Gap. We went there yesterday. In H & M, we met an Orthodox Jewish couple shopping. They directed us to a Jewish Community Center today where we bought matzas at an outdoor booth. How many other people have gotten their matzas through a chance encounter at H & M?
5. It is snowing again tonight. Spring training has been canceled.
6. Larry went to a party at the U.S. Ambassador's home last night. The party was in honor of the Fulbright program, which has been in Russia for 35 years. The Ambassador's house has a name, Spaso House. Parties at houses with names are generally good, and this one was no exception. Larry met the ambassador. Sasha met his wife a few weeks ago in line at the grocery store at the embassy.
7. We went to the Australian Film Festival last weekend. Unlike other film festivals we've been to in the US, there was no introduction, and no rousing rendition of "Waltzing Mathilda." Just an entertaining film about Aborigines in English with Russian subtitles. This weekend we may go to the Irish Film Festival.
8. Sasha said that she likes living in Russia because it's too cold here for there to be any alligators and crocodiles.
9. Alison went the famed Moscow Flea Market on Saturday, and picked up a few souvenirs. In a snowstorm.
10. In front of Red Square, you can get your picture taken with actors dressed up as Lenin and Stalin and other Russian leaders.
We were at an indoor mall near there on Sunday, and Stalin was taking his lunch break at the food court.
2. Our computer was down for two days over the weekend. We went to McDonald's to use the internet.
3. Larry's teaching schedule changes about as much as the weather. He had a class with 25 students last Thursday, then a class with one student last Friday. Stay tuned for latest enrollment figures.
4. There is an H & M here--the Swedish department store--that opened a few weeks ago. It is part of a large, Western-style mall, that has two Starbucks and a Gap. We went there yesterday. In H & M, we met an Orthodox Jewish couple shopping. They directed us to a Jewish Community Center today where we bought matzas at an outdoor booth. How many other people have gotten their matzas through a chance encounter at H & M?
5. It is snowing again tonight. Spring training has been canceled.
6. Larry went to a party at the U.S. Ambassador's home last night. The party was in honor of the Fulbright program, which has been in Russia for 35 years. The Ambassador's house has a name, Spaso House. Parties at houses with names are generally good, and this one was no exception. Larry met the ambassador. Sasha met his wife a few weeks ago in line at the grocery store at the embassy.
7. We went to the Australian Film Festival last weekend. Unlike other film festivals we've been to in the US, there was no introduction, and no rousing rendition of "Waltzing Mathilda." Just an entertaining film about Aborigines in English with Russian subtitles. This weekend we may go to the Irish Film Festival.
8. Sasha said that she likes living in Russia because it's too cold here for there to be any alligators and crocodiles.
9. Alison went the famed Moscow Flea Market on Saturday, and picked up a few souvenirs. In a snowstorm.
10. In front of Red Square, you can get your picture taken with actors dressed up as Lenin and Stalin and other Russian leaders.
We were at an indoor mall near there on Sunday, and Stalin was taking his lunch break at the food court.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Russian circus goes ape with its Jewish wedding
Remember we had posted a few weeks back our reaction to the Russian circus that had orangutans marrying in a Jewish ceremony? Looks like we made have broken the story or were ahead of the curve (some debate about that) right here on the Sokoloff blog
Check out:
http://jta.org/news/article/2009/03/19/1003851/jewish-orangutans-star-in-mock-wedding-in-russian-circus#albumimage#albumimage
Check out:
http://jta.org/news/article/2009/03/19/1003851/jewish-orangutans-star-in-mock-wedding-in-russian-circus#albumimage#albumimage
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Watch out for Sidewalk Drivers. Capitalism Thrives Here
Before I left for Russia, one of my students in San Jose wanted to let
me know that I was going to a different place. The student, an emigre
from the former Soviet Union, warned me that cars drive on the
sidewalks in Moscow. I envisioned BMWs doing hairpin turns at high
speeds, barrelling down on frightened walkers. It didn't turn out that
way. But cars do indeed drive on the sidewalk, and I see them several
times a day.
To understand this, you have to know that the sidewalks are not the
same as in the US. Here, sidewalks are extensions of the road, often
made out of the same pavement, and wider. They are still separated by
curbs, but the Russian DMV apparently didn't send out the message that
you don't park on sidewalks. In front of my apartment as I write this,
two cars are parked on the sidewalk, and it's a similar scene
throughout the city.
When it's time to move their cars, most sidewalk drivers head back into
the street. But a few times a day there's a driver who decides the
easiest way to get back to the road is to keep driving on the sidewalk,
at a very slow speed. So I cast a wary eye on every car I see, and
Sasha and Alison do the same. If I were to score this as an Olympic event, the most points would go to sidewalk drivers in SUVs, with cellphone in hand and cigarette in
mouth. Most likely a taxi driver. And there are a lot of taxi drivers.
Maybe because of the sidewalk driving, or due to the very fast drivers
here, Moscow does have one pedestrian benefit--underground pedestrian
underpasses that help us cross busy intersections. One that we pass
through daily to Sasha's school is under a road known as the Garden Ring.
This underpass often attracts
musicians playing for their supper. We have been treated to accordion
players, guitarists, and our favorite, a musician who plays the teeth
of a saw with a bow. Tonight a guitarist was playing the theme to "Love
Story."
Many of these underpasses have shops in them. This one at the Garden
Ring does not, so the acoustic quality is high and it adds to the
journey.
Even if it's "Love Story."
Capitalism is alive and well here in the former USSR. We're most aware
of it in the small businesses that are everywhere. Entrepreneurs set up
impromptu stands in the subway (we're guessing that it is illegal)
selling books and socks. Near transit stops, there are often 10 to 12
elderly women on snowy sidewalks selling different types of clothes.
One favorite vendor near our house sells a contraption straight out
of a Ronco late night infomercial, for cutting vegetables--it slices, it
dices, and can be yours for $19.95 if you call now. Whenever that
merchant is out there, there is a pile of shaved carrots and potatos
for shoppers to inspect.
More stores line the underpasses near the subway stations, selling
toiletries, pastries, candy, water and cellphones. Above ground near
the same metros stops, there are usually a number of food stands in
enclosed buildings--roasted chicken, baked potatos with toppings,
blinis. A favorite of Sasha and mine is one selling uzbecki bread hot
out of the oven for 12 rubles, which is about 40 cents. It's a close to
the hot bagel experience as you get here. Although I did manage to
order a bagel at a cafe a few weeks ago--sadly, it looked and tasted
like a hamburger bun with a hole cut through the top section.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
A taste of Soviet architecture
After relentless grey, the sun came out today and I scrapped plans to visit a museum. Instead, I decided to meander aimlessly around the city's Garden Ring. After a 20 minute walk from school, I glanced up to see the "Ministry of External Affairs" - the name alone gave me creeps. This snarling, 27 story Soviet skyscraper combines Russian Baroque and Gothic styles. Think Met Life building in New York on Pregnazone.
It turned out to be one of the city's famous seven sisters - skyscrapers built during Stalin's last years, using the technology which built the pre-War American skyscrapers. The building's logo - a three-story hammer and sickle superimposed over the globe - made me think Stalin might have doodled it on the back of cocktail napkin during the Yalta talks. When plotting world domination, you need an expressive logo.
For more on the Seven Sisters and Ministry of External Affairs, go to: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seven_Sisters_(Moscow)
It turned out to be one of the city's famous seven sisters - skyscrapers built during Stalin's last years, using the technology which built the pre-War American skyscrapers. The building's logo - a three-story hammer and sickle superimposed over the globe - made me think Stalin might have doodled it on the back of cocktail napkin during the Yalta talks. When plotting world domination, you need an expressive logo.
For more on the Seven Sisters and Ministry of External Affairs, go to: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seven_Sisters_(Moscow)
Monday, March 16, 2009
Smoky & Grey City
Week Five - starting the blog today with the weather: Snowing again with temperatures hovering around 0 degrees. When it first started snowing I thought it was soot from the ubiquitous smokestacks encircling the city (no pesky EPA here), but nope, it's just darn cold. I forgot that March is still winter outside of California.
At this point in our excursion, I am well settled in as are Sasha and Larry. But I am experiencing my first real pangs of California homesickness, likely brought on by relen-tless grey weather and snow. I miss the fresh air, flowers, green grass and smoke-free restaurants.
Perhaps Spring is approaching in Moscow. After all, enough snow has melted to reveal the most astonishing number of cigarette butts I've even seen. With the 4th largest population of smokers in the world, these folks don't have to worry about the city's chimneys: they *are* the city's chimneys. I noticed yesterday at the store that of American cigarettes are $1 per pack. No wonder everyone smokes - it's cheap and readily available, even on the menus at restaurants. I get the cheap vodka and Russian beer - it's a mighty long winter - but cigarettes? How does that help anybody?
Today, I wandered around the Kitay Gorod neighborhood with no particular agenda other than to get out of the apartment after a blissful morning of organizing, gleaning and purging the apartment. Fun for a few hours, but then the cabin fever kicks in and it's time to explore.
This excursion finally allowed me to visit Moscow's largest synagogue. It was just lovely and because I am a woman and my head was covered, I was able to wander around the downstairs and upstairs where I sat for ten minutes examining the artwork on the ceiling and beema. It was fun to see the "tzadakah" box written in cyrillic as "tzadakah" You'd think it would have said something like "charity" in Russian. I also bought my first Matruskha doll at the gift store. Interlocking Chagall paintings, handmade and very folk-artsy, my fav combination. I looked for a home version of the Tzedakah in cyrillic, but no such luck.
I'm at the point in the trip where things are really slowing down. We're seen all the "must haves" except for the Kremlin inside tour. The restaurant food, even places I like are now tasting pretty bland (what, herring and beet salad...again!) So now I spend a lot of time just observing people and the city's going-ons.
English speakers are a fun and rare surprise. Today, I sat in Le Pain near the US Embassy and watched a young, bespectacled diplomat-y type speaking Russian with a broad American accent, I thought, hmmm. When his American colleague whisked into the front door and starting speaking English to him, I knew I had him pegged.
-- Alison
At this point in our excursion, I am well settled in as are Sasha and Larry. But I am experiencing my first real pangs of California homesickness, likely brought on by relen-tless grey weather and snow. I miss the fresh air, flowers, green grass and smoke-free restaurants.
Perhaps Spring is approaching in Moscow. After all, enough snow has melted to reveal the most astonishing number of cigarette butts I've even seen. With the 4th largest population of smokers in the world, these folks don't have to worry about the city's chimneys: they *are* the city's chimneys. I noticed yesterday at the store that of American cigarettes are $1 per pack. No wonder everyone smokes - it's cheap and readily available, even on the menus at restaurants. I get the cheap vodka and Russian beer - it's a mighty long winter - but cigarettes? How does that help anybody?
Today, I wandered around the Kitay Gorod neighborhood with no particular agenda other than to get out of the apartment after a blissful morning of organizing, gleaning and purging the apartment. Fun for a few hours, but then the cabin fever kicks in and it's time to explore.
This excursion finally allowed me to visit Moscow's largest synagogue. It was just lovely and because I am a woman and my head was covered, I was able to wander around the downstairs and upstairs where I sat for ten minutes examining the artwork on the ceiling and beema. It was fun to see the "tzadakah" box written in cyrillic as "tzadakah" You'd think it would have said something like "charity" in Russian. I also bought my first Matruskha doll at the gift store. Interlocking Chagall paintings, handmade and very folk-artsy, my fav combination. I looked for a home version of the Tzedakah in cyrillic, but no such luck.
I'm at the point in the trip where things are really slowing down. We're seen all the "must haves" except for the Kremlin inside tour. The restaurant food, even places I like are now tasting pretty bland (what, herring and beet salad...again!) So now I spend a lot of time just observing people and the city's going-ons.
English speakers are a fun and rare surprise. Today, I sat in Le Pain near the US Embassy and watched a young, bespectacled diplomat-y type speaking Russian with a broad American accent, I thought, hmmm. When his American colleague whisked into the front door and starting speaking English to him, I knew I had him pegged.
-- Alison
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Hag Purim
I forgot to get a costume for Sasha, but even if I had, she would have been a drab Esther compared with her very festive classmates. Note the beautiful headresses and dresses on the little girls. These kids take their Purim play *very* seriously!
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Functional Illiteracy; Sasha goes to School; Parental Adventures
Larry's posting today, with Alison editing.
We've been asked how our Russian language studies are coming along. Recent food purchases illustrate our language prowess.
Last night, we purchased potato pancakes, except when we got home we discovered in a taste test that we'd really bought fried liver patties. We were hungry after a hard winter's day, and suffered no ill effects from eating them.
Sasha is now enrolled in a school at the JCC. She has been attending for a week and a half. She is one of three Sashas in her class (one boy, two girls). They call her Sashenka to distinguish her.
One of the more intriguing aspects is she has a weekly chess class. The graying, bearded chess master explains (in Russian), moves to the students via a giant felt chessboard on the wall. Students get poker chits for the right answer. Alison, the chess player in the family, thinks he was describing various strategies for protecting the king. Or maybe it was the best use of the bishop, but it was a little hard to tell what exactly his point was as the kids called out moves. Our Sasha said it is boring. A few days later, however, she asked Alison to teach her how to play chess, and they have been playing at night.
The school is 45 minutes away, and it involves lots of walking and transferring of crowded subway trains. But Russians on the trains almost always get up and give Sasha a seat.
The walking part of the journey to school often comes to a halt when Sasha hears music from a loudspeaker, because it means it is time to do an impromptu dance in the middle of the sidewalk. Russians don't smile much, but they smile at Sasha and her antics.
Sasha takes her academic subjects in the morning and the electives in the afternoon. She is served two lunches a day (we don't understand this, it's sort of like the Hobbits'second breakfast) and a snack, including a cup of tea for each child. Some of her classmates and a few teachers speak English, but mostly she hears Russian all day. In school, Sasha struts around in ballet slippers. On the way home, she wears her heavy duty boots so she can splash in as many puddles as possible.
What are her parents doing with all their time now that Sasha is in school? Besides buying fried liver disguised as potato pancakes, we are exploring Moscow, seeing interesting neighborhoods, and visiting museums. Yesterday, we went to the Pushkin Museum, a storehouse of incredible impressionist masterpieces. We thought we'd seen the best stuff at the Hermitage in St. Petersburg, but the Pushkin was comparable. Rooms full of Matisses, Renoirs, Chagalls, Degas, and Cezannes. Plus a few Goyas and Dutch masters.
Alison went to her first meeting today of the American Women's Organization, Moscow chapter. Most of the expats she met are from Texas, and have husbands who work in the oil, gas and mineral industries. They immediately embraced Alison, and took her to an
out-of-the way, chic French restaurant for lunch. The menus were in English, and she did not order liver. They have invited us to a Saturday night Daring Dining group, which tries new restaurants.
We've been asked how our Russian language studies are coming along. Recent food purchases illustrate our language prowess.
Last night, we purchased potato pancakes, except when we got home we discovered in a taste test that we'd really bought fried liver patties. We were hungry after a hard winter's day, and suffered no ill effects from eating them.
Sasha is now enrolled in a school at the JCC. She has been attending for a week and a half. She is one of three Sashas in her class (one boy, two girls). They call her Sashenka to distinguish her.
One of the more intriguing aspects is she has a weekly chess class. The graying, bearded chess master explains (in Russian), moves to the students via a giant felt chessboard on the wall. Students get poker chits for the right answer. Alison, the chess player in the family, thinks he was describing various strategies for protecting the king. Or maybe it was the best use of the bishop, but it was a little hard to tell what exactly his point was as the kids called out moves. Our Sasha said it is boring. A few days later, however, she asked Alison to teach her how to play chess, and they have been playing at night.
The school is 45 minutes away, and it involves lots of walking and transferring of crowded subway trains. But Russians on the trains almost always get up and give Sasha a seat.
The walking part of the journey to school often comes to a halt when Sasha hears music from a loudspeaker, because it means it is time to do an impromptu dance in the middle of the sidewalk. Russians don't smile much, but they smile at Sasha and her antics.
Sasha takes her academic subjects in the morning and the electives in the afternoon. She is served two lunches a day (we don't understand this, it's sort of like the Hobbits'second breakfast) and a snack, including a cup of tea for each child. Some of her classmates and a few teachers speak English, but mostly she hears Russian all day. In school, Sasha struts around in ballet slippers. On the way home, she wears her heavy duty boots so she can splash in as many puddles as possible.
What are her parents doing with all their time now that Sasha is in school? Besides buying fried liver disguised as potato pancakes, we are exploring Moscow, seeing interesting neighborhoods, and visiting museums. Yesterday, we went to the Pushkin Museum, a storehouse of incredible impressionist masterpieces. We thought we'd seen the best stuff at the Hermitage in St. Petersburg, but the Pushkin was comparable. Rooms full of Matisses, Renoirs, Chagalls, Degas, and Cezannes. Plus a few Goyas and Dutch masters.
Alison went to her first meeting today of the American Women's Organization, Moscow chapter. Most of the expats she met are from Texas, and have husbands who work in the oil, gas and mineral industries. They immediately embraced Alison, and took her to an
out-of-the way, chic French restaurant for lunch. The menus were in English, and she did not order liver. They have invited us to a Saturday night Daring Dining group, which tries new restaurants.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Mapt Madness in Mockba
This is the back of our building with the combo hockey rink/basketball court.
A visit to the Cat Theatre on Inter'nal Women's Day
Happy International Women's Day, which is a big holiday in Russia. This is another three-day weekend, to celebrate all women in Russia, not just mothers.For the past five days, flowers (mostly tulips and roses) have been on sale and carried around everywhere. It's added color to Moscow in winter. Sasha was handed some free yelow tulips this morning at the subway station.
The high point of the day for all of us was the noon performance of the Cat Theatre, a Moscow institution. There were cats on skateboards, high wires, balancing on pipes and pushing strollers and wagons. Some cats were perched to appear to wear angel wings, or as petals of a twirling flower. It was a little like a Vegas show or the Ziegfield Follies. Mostly the cats were in the background as clowns took center stage. There were two dogs in the show, and at least a dozen cats.
After our earlier experience at the circus on Feb. 21, we were wondering if we'd be made uncomfortable by anything. But it was all in good taste. There was another wedding, but this time non-denominational.
When the show ended, Sasha was invited on stage to dance with the other kids.
In our police blotter section, all is well. The officer has been contacted by a Russian speaker from Larry's program and told that we registered correctly. We shouldn't see him again.
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