Yoshkar Ola

[Vaughn]

 I guess we'll have stereo TR's:  Ken and I were Russia-bound
and USA-bound on coinciding weekends. Ken, it dawned on me
last week that I should have asked for your Omsk number as
I had that hankering to speak some rapid English for an hour.

 When beautiful babes surfaced on the streets, which was almost
constantly, I did manage to shoot some video of a nearby point
of interest, and then gracefully pan slowly across the paradise
nearby. I tried to be discrete but Elvira's no dummy - but she's in
accord with our mutual "look - don't touch" policy.

 It was HOT everyday, and the ladies
dressed accordingly - short skirts, halter tops, fishnets. There
are small patches of beach along the Malaya Kokshaga River -
and happy to report that stylish thongs were in abundance. My
nephew, Ildar, and I stole away alone Friday afternoon on a two
man inflatable raft to float past a few bridges and historical churches,
and happened upon a bevy of beauties beached near the Ice Palace.

 Like Ken, I arrived home exhausted. Traveled 15 hours by train
Y-O to Kazansky station in Moscow, warded off a dozen cabbies
and hopped on the Metro - and then by marshrutnoe from Rechnoi
Vokzal to SVO-2. 10 more hours in the air to JFK, a harrowingly tight
transfer by cab to LGA, and then 2 more hours to home. Thank
goodness my daughter was at the terminal to take me home as
my legs felt like jelly!

 My wife remains in Yoshkar Ola for two more weeks, and our daughter
for the entire summer. I've got a few tales to tell, but they'll have to wait
a little while as I unwind and get back into my routine here...

Good to be back in the USA,   Vaughn

[catzenmouse]

Vau-Gun!

 Welcome home and happy to hear your trip was a good one. Know what you mean about the English. Poor Elena was having a hard time going back and forth keeping me in the loop. Sometimes she would speak English to her family and Russian to me and then laugh about it when she would get the politely confused look on our faces.

 Well you've got two weeks to get wild and crazy so quit playing with the computer and go raise hell....

Ken

[Vaughn]

          FROM MAYBERRY to JFK
 
  Elvira and Lenara got their first taste of USAirways e-ticket system:
check in was so swift, it was too good to be true (and it was). At the
gate we learn the three of us will be flying to Kennedy in separate
areas of economy class (affectionately referred to as "steerage" by
my late father). I hail a flight attendant and discuss switching seats.
No problem, wait 'till everyone's seated. Huge problem - the aircraft
is booked solid with standbys hoping to board. We all travel seated
aside strangers.

         JFK TERMINAL ONE   ~    NICE SURPRISE

  We took the shuttle bus from LGA to JFK, and the driver alerts me
to the fact that Aeroflot switched from Terminal 3 to 1 as of late
last year. It was a good move - whoever supervises operations
there has it together - the security personnel, counter clerks
and ground staff had the sense of urgency often preached yet
seldom practiced. If it's a tossup between Delta and Aeroflot
and you're departing JFK, I'd choose Aeroflot based on the
staff who gets the crowd moving at Terminal 1. That's just me.

  Outside I broke a bottle of Don Julio Silver Label Tequila
in my carry-on as I try to handle too many bags at once when loading
a cart. We're traveling heavy - six pieces of luggage, five are large
and four slightly exceed the 23kg (50 lb) limit. My wife's been shopping
since February - I believe three suitcases contained nothing but gifts.
Aeroflot let the weight issue slide. I replaced the bottle with a quick
purchase at the duty-free shop.

  From here on out, all goes well. The plane is packed again, but takes off
on time. We arrive SVO-2 twenty minutes ahead of schedule, and this is
welcome news as we strive to reach Kazansky station in time for our
train, with a scant 3 hour window.

          THE MIGRATION CARD FIASCO

  No excuses - just my own ignorance of a new procedure. My last
visit to the FSU was late 2002. Sometime in 2003, Russia began
to require non-citizens to fill out a Migration Card inflight - a twofold
form on a single sheet - the info required, every bit of it, is on my
visa inside my passport - and so the purpose
of this new form eludes me, but so do many things Russian and I
dismiss its importance. I hand over the form at Passport Control,
and this very abrupt RW clerk hands back one form on what is now
a torn half sheet of paper, and barks through the glass in Russian.
What I thought she said was something like, "Give that one to the
next checkpoint". I assume that's baggage check, and I spy Elvira
already building a pile of suitcases as Lenara guards the 200 lb
treasure trove of gifts. We waltz through baggage check
UNCHALLENGED, there is NOBODY minding the store.

               MONEY EXCHANGE (not today)

  It's June 12th, Russia's Independence Day, which commemorates
the adoption in 1991 of the Declaration of Sovereignty of the Russian Federation. And so I'm not surprised when Elvira announces the
money exchange is closed, and not just today, but for three more
days. Fortunately, we're holding a few thousand rubles so we'll get by.

       SEARCHING FOR NIKOLAI

 I stuff the torn sheet into my
breast pocket and we begin to search for a man wearing my wife's
name across his chest - he represents a private shuttle service that
my wife learned of through the NC State RW Grapevine - this Moscow-
based service promised to get the three of us to Kazansky with all our
cargo quickly and expeditiously for the sum of 1,260 rubles. I am
skeptical, but she insisted on giving it a try. Turns out it worked
like a charm. We spot the fellow sporting a 1' x 3' sign that reads
ILVIRA. Alright, he misspelled her name but it's nothing that
BCIS hasn't done to others' misfortune. He had a larger vehicle
and together we manipulate most of the
baggage into the trunk, with one piece having to separate the
ladies in the back. The guy knew backstreets as we cut through
industrial areas to avoid the freeway parking lot. Finally we come to
the river's edge and we're forced into the bumper to bumper stuff,
with five lines of cars competing for three lane space. I notice
many billboards advertising vinyl siding - and I wondered just
how it would hold up after the harsh winter Russia just had.
(I discover later that people are buying the vinyl like crazy to
refinish their verandas and balconys, and my MIL was no
exception). Across the river,
we're back into neighborhoods frequented by longshoreman and
steelworkers - and it crosses my mind that maybe this driver will
swing into some abandoned warehouse, his waiting crew will
steal everything and we'll never be heard from again. Alas, we
get back into familiar streets, I recognize buildings and suddenly
we're at Kazansky with 40 minutes to spare. We purchase cheese,
bread, kolbasa, water and some wine and move into our
compartment. The train departs at 4:30 PM and arrives
Yoshkar-Ola at 7:30 AM, so we've got all night to relax,
eat and sleep. In the morning I'll be a year older as we
arrive town on my birthday.

The Migration Card is still safe in my pocket at this time.
More to follow...

Vaughn

[Vaughn]

                          ARRIVAL

I've never been to Russia in June - knowing the length of
the day is one thing but experiencing a sunset at 11PM is
quite another. The sunrise at 3:30 AM is equally impressive.
As we approach the station, we see our friends and family
in a cluster - they're jumping with joy - they saw Lenara
last summer, but they've missed Elvira for 2 1/2 years now.
Me, it's been 3 1/2 years and long overdue. As the train halts,
my brother-in-law, Dima and cousin, Kamil rush into our car,
Lenara's shooting video amid squeals and laughter. I tell Elvira
to ignore the baggage and enjoy the moment - it becomes gleeful
bedlam in the narrow aisle. Lenara's video is sheer fun to watch.

 We gather outside on the platform, hugging, crying, laughing.
There's an endearing closeness in our family. My MIL Maria,
sister Venera, cousin Zemfira, niece Katya, nephew Ildar, along
with Dima and Kamil and us - we number ten in all and everyone's
talking excitedly. Dima's self-employed: he imports cars singlehandedly
from Western Europe and points south, and has just sold his latest
acquisition, and so rented a marshrutnoe taxi to haul everyone and the
baggage back to our flat. I notice the train station has undergone
facial improvements - on my first and subsequent visits it appeared
pretty rough. The streets were in the usual deplorable condition,
potholed and randomly cracked; hence, nobody drives a straight line
in this town. We're home in 10 minutes - and it's a relief having two
able-bodied men to help us get the heavy bags to the 4th floor.
There's no lift in our building.

  I always thought my wife had a nice flat, but since her Mom moved
in as Elvira moved out, it's been totally renovated: new kitchen with
new appliances, new bathroom with new fixtures, new toilet, wallpaper,
paint, vinyl siding inside the veranda, new parquet in the foyer. The
place looks great, complete and classy. Immediately, out comes the
champagne - it's 8:15 in the morning, and my body thinks it's still
nighttime. We toast over and over again. Kamil ducks out early as
his work beckons - construction. Elvira begins to open the suitcases
full of gifts, and I'm amazed at just how much she squeezed into
our luggage. A month ago I insisted on buying some man-gifts
for Kamil, Dima and Ildar - after all, how many shirts, ties and
bottles of cologne can one guy handle? I gave Ildar an electronic
digital caliper that he went apesh*t over. Every male got well-crafted
measuring tools, all metric, that I went to great lengths to locate.
More champagne, black bread, pelmyeni, and of course, the salads.
Dima reveals a fresh bottle of Beyenkaya vodka - our favorite.
The phone rings often - neighbors and friends drop by in a steady
stream of traffic on the staircase of this Stalin-era creation.

  After a few hours of catching up on news, we head over to
Venera and Dima's new flat - they sold their flat in the center
of town back in 2004 so as to increase their living space with
a newer flat on the edge of the city where we reside - it's
a 10-minute walk. They were promised a move-in date of
November 2004 - and were put off until well into 2005. In the
interim, they moved into our flat with Maria - and we later
learn there was considerable tension in the household, with
four people sharing a small one bedroom abode. Just before things
were about to become unglued, the new flat was finished and
the situation became easier. Although Dima and Venera's new
place is modern, I noticed that the outer shell of the building
resembled all the other high-rises, as if contemporary architects
are stuck on 1950's design. Same basic layout, veranda front,
balcony back - I guess they figure if it ain't broke, don't fix it.

 Where commercial construction is involved, it's another story,
There were modern shopping malls four stories high in compact
elevation, the Ice Palace - a fabulous sports complex hugging
the riverfront, and many other innovative projects underway -
so apparently the stagnation in design only haunts the residential
sector.

 It's HOT outside, about 95F - and everyone's hoping for some
rain (except me). Oh yeah - in Yoshkar-Ola, with its antiquated
communal system of heating water for the masses, there's no
hot water - and there won't be any for at least another week.
The city shuts down the central heating plant to adminster
maintenance in June - and many go without. A neighbor of ours
across the hall has invested in an installed hot water heater unit
as we know them, and we take up her offer to enjoy showers
after the journey's end. For the rest of the week though, I become
proficient at shaving and bathing on an early morning schedule using
about one gallon of boiling water from a huge kettle. and a rubbermaid
tub to dilute the steaming brew.

  My niece Katya has Net access on her new computer, but I
honestly have little time nor desire with only two weeks to
enjoy myself...

  As I've read here on RWD, everybody's got a cellphone. It's
not unusual to hear three separate phone conversations while
riding in a marshrutnoe. A ride goes for 8 rubles now, it was 5
two years ago - still a bargain IMO, but for a pensioner it's a
considerable hike.

  Dima tells me he plans to leave tomorrow for Moscow to
pick up another auto for resale, as Elvira and I begin to outline
our own plans for the week.....  and I extract the half-sheet
Migration Card from my pocket and lay it on the nightstand....

  All our cameras and media remain in Russia as of now, but
Ildar is sending a few photos we took, day by day:

Lenara, Arrival Evening:

Katya and Lenara

Lenara with Schoolfriends:
 
 
 

[Michelangelo]

Nice T/R...great job!

I'm heading to Ukraine in two weeks....not Yoshkar Ola.  But maybe you can answer a question anyway....

You keep saying how hot it was there.  Were men wearing shorts?

Gotta pack, and something tells me to stick with jeans and not shorts.

[Vaughn]

It depends on the moment. I saw many men wearing shorts as
they worked. Me, I wore shorts on a few occasions - taking out
Mama's trash, working in the garden outside of town. I found
shorts comfy after the banya and cold dip.

Walking around town and going out - trousers and jeans rule the day.
It won't hurt to bring one pair of shorts along - have a great time!

[catzenmouse]

Great work Vaughn!

Just wondering... How many PMs have to received so far with marriage proposals for Lenara?

 

Ken

[Vaughn]

Hell, Ken, I'm still reviewing a stack of
Applications to Date My Daughter...

[Vaughn]

                       THE MISTAKE

  It's Tuesday night, my body and mind scream for rest. I decide to
finally organize my unpacked clothing and notice the Migration Card
half-sheet - and having been trained to reduce clutter (never handle
the same piece of paper twice) I fold the sheet in half, and toss it into
the kitchen wastebasket. Not a second thought about it - after all, I'm
home safe on our apartment, passport control was yesterday morn,
and tomorrow I'll visit Odyssey Travel to register my visa as I have
several times before. Years ago at Odyssey, there worked a stunningly attractive 25-ish woman who's a spittin' image of a young Pamela Sue Martin - her English was fair to good, and I'm looking forward to seeing her
once again - but she's no longer there. The new girl is attractive in her own
right, but speaks almost no English at all. I hand her the passport with the visa inside, and we agree I'll be back tomorrow morning. It's my fourth time
handling this formality, and I am at ease. Complacently so.

                     THE khuDOZHestvenij SALON

   It's THE place to pick up folk art in Mari-El - I love the place. The
guy staffing the counter is Dmitri, who a decade ago spent a year
at George Mason University in Virginia - it's good to see him again. Elvira's
guarded as she knows I'm apt to spend wads of rubles in this store, and
this trip was no exception - Mari handpainted nesting dolls are among the
most intricate I've seen anywhere, and they still range from 350-800 rubles
per set. I decide to buy only one today, but I'd amass six or seven before
I leave town. We walk the streets, taking in all the new complexes. Most ladies I see are slender, attractive and high-heeled: a welcome change
from the corn-fed porkers on the checkout lines in Charlotte.

  We get back to the flat at 4:30PM when the phone rings. It's Venera,
my sister-in-law, saying, "You must go to OVIR immediately." Apparently, they're looking for that Migration Card half-sheet - and Mama's already emptied the trash 8 hours ago. A female clerk, Sveta, at OVIR knows
Venera and alerted her to my problem. We take a fast cab ride and
locate the office - an antiquated nondescript building on a side street
off Krasnoarmeiskaya, a main artery. On the second floor we encounter
a locked door - it's 5PM. But they close at 6 so we find another entrance
to the second floor. There we encounter the director who informs me
I've screwed up by "losing" the sheet (I didn't want to admit I tossed it).
OK - so give me another. No dice - the man is gonna make me squirm
first. We need to author a "zayavlyenie" - an "application" of sorts: basically
a handwritten request for another. We're dispatched to yet another locked
office where a rude 20-something answers our knock - she is to offer
the exact wording on the "necessary" zayalyenie. Elvira begins to write,
she's upset with me, upset with them - and then WHAM - the rude girl
yells "MIGRATION!! - NOT 'IMMIGRATION' !!!" The atmosphere comes
completely undone. Elvira's 42, a veteran of Soviet-era education and
teaching. 20-somethings DO NOT scold 40-somethings, even today. I tell
the girl to "back off and know your place" in her language and she's stunned.
We're still wondering where this "Sveta" is...       We're now back in the
first office with Mr Director and he's making things tougher, doling out
sarcasm, fidgeting. It hits me all at once - he's looking for a handout - and
all I see in my mind's eye is Richard in Tver - the Canadian Cowboy - vowing
these bastards aren't getting a kopeck out of me! I stand fast, lean over
with my fists on his desk, and ask in Russian, "Tell me exactly, what must
I do NOW?" Realizing I'm refusing to fold, he pulls out the magic
approval stamp, slaps his mark on the letter, angrily signs it and dispatches
us again to Ms Rude. Meanwhile they want a copy of my passport, and inconveniently for us, we're informed their copier is "broken". Elvira grabs
my passport, dashes downstairs and hits the street to locate anyplace
with a copy machine. I remain with Ms Rude to ensure we are not locked out
for spite - it's 5:55PM, and clerks are beginning to gather up to head home.
At 6:03PM I'm still seated near Rude and refuse to vacate her office when Elvira rushes in with the copy. From her desk, Rude pulls out a two-inch
stack of blank Migration Card forms and hands me one. Good night - all
that tapdancing for this? They must have really wanted some lunch money.

 The Migration Card was instituted in 2003 just months after my last
journey so I was unfamiliar with it. Believe me - you do NOT
want to waste half an afternoon registering your visa the hard way.
BTW, shadowed across the backround of this form are the words
REGISTRATION FREE. I'm in Richard's camp on this issue - it's not
the money I'd miss, but I just won't contribute to government graft.

 You have three business days to register your visa. OVIR, even though
"closed on Thursday" in this city, counts Thursday as one of your allowed days, so we were forced to comply on Wednesday at zero-hour.

 I am told by a close friend in Yekaterinburg that OVIR is closed
on both Tuesdays AND Thursdays so if you're registering there,
heed this fair warning.

[Vaughn]

  We met up with Larisa and another visiting couple from
Missouri whom we hadn't seen since '01 - a nice reunion
on a genuine working farm just outside the city's edge.
Larisa's the beautiful blonde 30-ish owner of the small
ayobride.com agency. We brought along a small feast
and set a grand table in this old farmhouse built of thick
timber, all handmade. The owner, a widower named Vasily,
gave us the grand tour - he's a
helluva talented carpenter - creates ladderback chairs
and cabinets in a machine/mill shop set up in the barn.
Some of the equipment pre-dates the revolution. Since
his wife died, Vasily's hired local women to work the fields,
the acreage is too much to handle alone. We all walked
into a thick woods for about 20 minutes and arrived at a
religious shrine and natural spring, that fed a pool enclosed
by a rustic wooden hut. The pool is deep but large enough for only
one person at a time. The ritual is to strip down and plunge
three times (full immersion) into what had to be the coldest
water I've touched in years. Invigorating - and reminded me
of a folksy baptism. Outside we hear soft chanting in the woods:
at theshrine stood several elderly woman in shawls and habits,
singing worship hymms softly amidst the chirping in the forest -
a very surreal moment, reminding me we weren't in the USA
anymore....

Behind the farm a few hundred yards, I noticed a new
subdivision being built, obviously for those of means.
Semi-modern two-story dwellings on 1/4 acre parcels,
with Russian style rooftops and window trim. I've never
witnessed this phenomenon here before. People ARE
beginning to prosper. According to Dima and Venera, my in-laws
in their late 30's, things are improving. Disposable
income continues to increase, the incentives to excel
are in place. Those who choose to remain in the rut of cradle to
casket state security will get left behind, only to
cement their positions in the poorer class. Unfortunately,
those on pensions are still struggling as prices rise.
Tools, electronics and the like seem unreasonably
high - but the demand is there. Foodstuffs and essentials
also have increased but only slightly so. It's hard to
see the progress as roads and older structures remain
in poor condition, but funny, as each day passes I
notice the decay less and less. It's as if the locals
are far too busy moving ahead to worry much about
sprucing up the existing state of things. Buying low
and selling high: apartments (after rehab) and automobiles.

Larisa confirms the notion that more than 90% of
Western men writing to her ladies never show up.

[acrzybear]

Hell, Ken, I'm still reviewing a stack of
Applications to Date My Daughter...

Perhaps this will help;   

APPLICATION FOR PERMISSION TO DATE MY DAUGHTER
NOTE: This application will be incomplete and rejected unless accompanied by a complete financial statement, job history, lineage,
and current medical report from your doctor.
1. NAME ________________________DATE OF BIRTH: _____________
2. HEIGHT: _____ WEIGHT: ____  IQ: ____  G.P.A.: ____
3. SOCIAL SECURITY #: _____________DRIVERS LICENSE #:____________
4. BOY SCOUT RANK: __________
5. HOME ADDRESS: _______________________________
    CITY/STATE: __________________________ ZIP: ___________

6. Do you have one MALE and one FEMALE parent? _____
    If NO, EXPLAIN:_________________________________________________

7. Number of years parents married:____ 
8. Do you own a van? _____  (A) truck with oversized tires? ______
    (B) A waterbed? _____

9. Do you have an earring, nose ring or belly button ring?___ Tattoo? ___
(If YES to any of #8 or #9, discontinue application and leave premises)

10. In 10 words or less, what does LATE mean to you? __________________________________________________________________


11. In 10 words or less, what does DON’T TOUCH MY DAUGHTER mean to you? __________________________________________________________________

12. In 10 words or less, what does ABSTINENCE mean to you? __________________________________________________________________
13. Church you attend:___________ How often do you attend?___________

14. When would be the best time to interview your father, mother, and
     priest? __________

15. Answer by filling in the blank, please answer freely - all answers are confidential (That means I won’t tell anyone - ever -(promise).
A) If I were shot, the last place on my body I would want to be wounded is in
    the _______________
B) If I were beaten, the last bone I would want broken is my ______________
C) A woman’s place is in the _____________
D) The one thing I hope this application does not ask me about is __________
E) When I first meet a girl, the thing I notice about her first is _____________
    (NOTE: If answer E begins with T or A, discontinue and leave premises - keeping your head low and running in a serpentine fashion is advised.)

16. What do you want to be IF you grow up? ___________________________

I SWEAR THAT ALL INFORMATION SUPPLIED ABOVE IS TRUE AND CORRECT TO THE BEST OF MY KNOWLEDGE UNDER PENALTY OF DEATH, DISMEMBERMENT, NATIVE AMERICAN ANT TORTURE,CRUCIFIXION, ELECTROCUTION, CHINESE WATER TORTURE, RED HOT POKERS, AND HILLARY CLINTON KISS TORTURE.

Signature: ___________________________________________________
(That means sign your name moron.)
Thank you for your interest. Please allow four to six years for processing, You will be contacted in writing if you are approved.
Please do not try to call or write (since you probably can’t and it would cause you injury) If your application is rejected, you will be
notified by two gentlemen wearing white ties carrying violin cases

[Vaughn]

THAT's the application, alright. Mine includes another
caveat: If you pull up to our home and honk for our
daughter to come outside, just keep driving away...

[Michelangelo]

The Migration Card was instituted in 2003 just months after my last
journey so I was unfamiliar with it. Believe me - you do NOT
want to waste half an afternoon registering your visa the hard way.

  Very funny, now, that is 

I'm  just happy that my girl is from Ukraine and such things as Migration Cards are not needed.

I'm enjoying your TR Vaughn!  Good work 

[Michelangelo]

  Larisa confirms the notion that more than 90% of
Western men writing to her ladies never show up.

So true...in fact--

I was playing golf last week with a couple of my buddies. I showed them pictures of my fiancee Vik.  Both immediately asked "Does she have friends?"

I text messaged Vik.  She answered, "Yes, but they only speak Russian."  And then she wrote "they aren't interested in American men."   

She suggested they try the agency where we met.  And said "you can tell them how to do it right."

I wrote back "what do you mean, right?"

She replied "not make the American mistake."

"What's that?" I asked.

"Send money but never visit."

So there you have it guys--2 important points.  1)  there are girls in the FSU who are serious and want more than letters and want more than money; and 2) Vaughn is right--most guys write but never visit.

Just shows how difficult this internet dating is for girls.

[Turboguy]

Good point.  I think we spend a lot of time talking about how tough it is for us but I think it is just as tough for them.

[Bruno]

I'm  just happy that my girl is from Ukraine and such things as Migration Cards are not needed.

Immigration card are always needed in Ukraine... One year ago, it was a big folder full of publicity... in May these year, it was a simple little white paper... you need fill in your data, your stay place, nummer of flight, etc... You need to keep it with your passport during the stay, in case of control... loose it and you will have administrative problem for the return.

[Michelangelo]

Immigration card are always needed in Ukraine... One year ago, it was a big folder full of publicity... in May these year, it was a simple little white paper... you need fill in your data, your stay place, nummer of flight, etc... You need to keep it with your passport during the stay, in case of control... loose it and you will have administrative problem for the return.

That is correct Bruno.  But you don't have to file it.  Like you said, you just tear half of it off and keep it in your passport.

[Vaughn]

                           NADEZHDA

  There's a small but convenient store out in front of our high-rise
called Nadezhda, which means "hope". Years ago, I'd wander in and
notice a few men sitting and drinking at a table in a sideroom, even as
early as 8 in the morning. They seemed harmless enough and generally
minded their own business. The rest of the store had counters wrapping
a large room where one could buy baked goods, fresh fruits, fish, meats,
household goods, and yes, 40 varieties of vodka. The ladies at the counter
got to know me after dozens of visits, seemingly pleased that an American
could speak their tongue, if only half-fast. I recall them getting a huge laugh
two trips ago when I tried to ask for a "loaf of bread" - you can buy a loaf,
or you can buy bread - but a loaf of bread, when translated into Russian,
makes no sense. Visits to the store yielded mini language lessons, and I
frequently went unaccompanied so as to not lean on my wife for help....

 This most recent trip bore evidence that Nadezhda had run downhill. The
sideroom's been replaced with a video arcade, and the drinking men have
now taken over the steps of the front entry. Inside the store, one now finds
a heavy-gauge wire cage from counter to ceiling and you must talk through
a small square opening. The friendliness has all but disappeared, and men
on line ahead of me buy 100ml of vodka in plastic cups and take their
appointed places outside. The place has become a hellhole.

 Across the hall from our flat lived a couple with two children - the
father, who today remains our neighbor with the kids, is a hard-working
and devoted father. His wife, however, spent her days drinking heavily -
the situation was a reverse of the usual story.
About six months ago, she staggered down the stairs toward the Nadezhda,
and dropped dead inside the store. Yoshkar Ola has its grim side - and I
wonder aloud about the safety in this once peaceful neighborhood. Elvira
counters that it was always somewhat dangerous, especially after dark.
Dark doesn't arrive until 11PM in June, it's still daylight,
and I notice deterioration. It's unmistakeable.

  The problem centers around the crumbling steps of Nadezhda....

                     BITTERSWEET GRADUATION NIGHT

  Elvira, Lenara and I dressed very nicely one evening and attended the
graduation of Lenara's former classmates, and Elvira's former students,
I, myself, had taught English to these 25 students in 2002 - some are
shown in the Photo "miscellaneous" Section. The ceremony was held in a
Brezhnev-era building called the Palace of Culture - it was built in 1975
to commemorate the 30th anniversary of WWII's end.

 There, in the row just ahead of us, sat Elena Yurievna - the
English teacher who'd invited me to take over her class on several
occasions so the kids could experience genuine spoken American
English. As smitten as I was (and am) with Elvira I'll admit that years ago
Elena distracted me momentarily from the point of my visit - she had the
face of an angel with dark hair, a glowing smile and disposition, and
fluent in English. She now works in a retail environment I'm told. It's nice
to see her again.     As the awarding of diplomas unfolds, the very gravity
of having extracted a woman and her daughter from the FSU weighs heavy
on my conscience and heart. Our daughter should be up there accepting
recognition, and my wife was notedly absent when the teachers were
called to the stage. Then the bottom fell out - on the large wall just to
stage left, a home video begins to play as the lights are dimmed and the
students onstage sing in chorus "We Remember". The film reveals these
children and teachers on the first day of school eleven years ago - I
recognize Lenara's little munchkin face, and my Elvira looked smashing
on the wall. Half the audience is crying, the other half fights tears - it
is a truly touching moment that lasts two minutes. I am grateful to have
witnessed this evening - and it looms large in my recollections of this most
recent journey.

  A half-dozen 17 year-old girls accost me outside afterwards yelling,
"VAW-gun, VAW-gun, we can take picture with you?" I was never one
to crave much attention, but this was fun. These little girls have
blossomed into attractive young women. The guilt of having ripped away
one of their lifelong friends fills me. Elvira's nearby, chatting excitedly with
her former co-teachers. Lenara is to accompany all the girls to Faraon,
a nightclub that the school reserved for the student party afterwards. The
students will be out all night, dancing and socializing. We say our goodbyes,
and flag a marshrutnoe taxi toward home.

  Inside the marshrutnoe, Elvira quietly sobs, and I understand why. Then
she confides in me, "You know what hurts most of all?" I'm certain she's
about to explain that she's missed Russia so much - that she's been longing
to teach again. I'm way off the mark. The teachers had gathered with her,
and in time, groups of four and five slipped away to different flats to privately celebrate the end of their work year together.
She and I had remained standing alone.

  She whispers, "No one invited us. Everyone's forgotten about me."

[Michelangelo]

...The friendliness has all but disappeared, and men
on line ahead of me buy 100ml of vodka in plastic cups and take their
appointed places outside. The place has become a hellhole.

 and later after graduation

...She whispers, "No one invited us. Everyone's forgotten about me."

All so sad, Vaughn.  I hope later you'll write that all of this made Elvira appreciate her home in the US much more. 

We'll be waiting to hear more :-)

[catzenmouse]

She and I had remained standing alone.

  She whispers, "No one invited us. Everyone's forgotten about me."

Elena made a very similar comment to me while we were in Omsk. For those who have left, they often think about and miss these friends and co-workers. To feel that they have been dropped from the thoughts of those folks is a deep and painful wound.

Ken

[Michelangelo]

Any solutions? Phone cards?  More visits home? Something else?

[Vaughn]

Any solutions?

  I'm afraid not. The disassociation is part of the transition. BTW, she
followed up the "they've forgotten about me" with "I'm so glad I've
got you. The co-workers and friends aspect is NOT all negative
though - it's a time when true friends affirm their undying allegiance
by calling, writing or simply making sure they're free for those rare
get-togethers back in the homeland. Such a couple is Vitaly and Tanya,
who went to great lengths to make our trip memorable - they're the
subject of my next installment.

  As individuals, I cannot speak for any of those teachers. As a group,
they responded with class. Last week when I called Elvira she was
happily swamped with their attention - they had arranged a surprise
party. Their failure to invite her on grad night was a group oversight.

[catzenmouse]

Vaw-Gun is right on the money. Some of these people feel as though you have abandoned them, others have some jealousy issues, others show that they were not truly a friend. The ones who are will make the effort and have the time availble. Probably also a bit of "out of sight, out of mind" happening here.