Trip Report: 2 weeks in Moscow/Sochi

[groovlstk]

A few weeks ago I returned to Russia to spend time with my girl, whom I'd met for the first time a few months previous. I wrote about my first meeting with Irina in Moscow here:

http://www.russianwomendiscussion.com/index.php?topic=1781.0

We've now been corresponding and talking for six months, and things continue to go extraordinarily well. I often joke with her that I now live on Moscow time, since I wake up at 5AM to phone her while she's on her lunch hour at work, and then chat with her on ICQ when I finish up at the gym and arrive at work. I also phone her on my lunch hour while she's having dinner, and finally I wake her up at 2AM when I arrive home from work to wish her a good night. I don't enjoy waking her up, but she gets angry if I don't call her and her voice is so sleepy and vulnerable that listening to her chatter like a little girl is often the best part of my day. After a previous experience with a pathologically unfaithful Ukrainian woman, I thought it'd take a huge effort for me to trust an FSU girl again, but I have 100% faith in Irina.

Irina and I originally planned to meet in Moscow and then fly to Turkey together, but I goofed and didn't get a double-entry visa and the agency that was supposed to get her an international passport dragged their feet and hemmed and hawed (to this day she still doesn't have it, after having paid $550 for expedited--read 'bribed'--service. Last week she demanded her money back and after a long argument they relented. Now she's going to try another agency).

So we amended our plan and decided to spend a few days in Moscow before flying to Sochi for a week of rest. I was a bit apprehensive because she insisted I stay at her flat. She lives and cares for her alcoholic father, and I wasn't too keen on watching him get fired up all the while knowing I was sleeping in his daughter's bed AND hatching a scheme to steal her away to America. Hell, I'd be lucky to make it through the first night, I thought. Irina also has a Doberman, Chuck Norris, with boundless energy and a seemingly inexhaustible if unrequited sexual longing for my leg. However, when I suggested I stay at a hotel she got very upset so eventually I relented.

I left Newark via LOT Polish, a gen-u-wine red-eye flight as it departed at 11:20PM. Never in my life have I seen so many children on an international flight! I dreaded having the back of my seat kicked for the next ten hours but most of the children fell asleep soon after we were airborne. I popped an Ambien and a sedative I'd picked up on my last trip to Moscow, and promptly passed out and awoke as we were descending into Warsaw. I wobbled through the airport in a fog and arrived at the gate for my flight to Moscow, which was delayed about an hour. As we approached Moscow, the flight attendants passed out entry cards but did not have the paper that translates the Russian text to English. On previous trips to Russia I'd flown in on Lufthansa and United and never had this problem. If anyone has a copy of the English translation to this form, you'd be doing your fellow pilgrims a big service by scanning it and posting it on RWD so we can all print a copy, just in case. I was lucky that an elderly Polish women sitting next to me knew a little English and I was able to complete the form, but I was pretty sure I'd made some mistakes. At passport control, the girl in the booth was absolutely gorgeous, and when she looked at my passport photo and then at me to confirm that I yam what I yam, I made a face and crossed my eyes and she burst out laughing. In retrospect it was probably a dumb thing to do, but I also think she might have let me slide.

I spotted Irina in the crowd of people waiting and moved to the side just in time, as she leapt into my arms and gave me a bear hug and showered my face with kisses. She negotiated with a taxi driver and he offered to take us to her flat for 300 rubles (she lives ten minutes from SVO). After taking the elevator to her floor, we approached her door and I could hear Chuck barking like mad when he heard us. Somewhere on the other side of that door lurked her dad and since it was around 10PM, I figured he'd had plenty of time to get caught up on his drinking. I said a quick prayer and steeled myself for whatever might follow.

Here are some photos from Irina's bedroom window, she lives on the 17th floor of a high-rise building. In the first you can see the elektrichka flying by in the distance.

http://home.comcast.net/~marka136/apt_view2.jpg

http://home.comcast.net/~marka136/apt_view.jpg

Here's Chuck in a rare moment of repose:

http://home.comcast.net/~marka136/chuck.jpg

[wiz]

Com'on Groov

Are you still suffering from jet lag or busy talking to Iryna?

Don't keep us waiting.......you know we love reading your reports!

I hope you had a great time and the relationship move further.

Wiz

[viking]

Wiz

He is busy composing chapters 2-10. I am sure that there will be a lot more to tell.
Keep em' coming Groove.

[wiz]

Viking

I like reading love stories instead of all the bickering and rubbish some people post here.

I also like his writing style so I enjoy reading his posts. N.Y  Times soon will pay him for the rights......

Have a nice day!

[Bruno]

I like reading love stories instead of all the bickering and rubbish some people post here.

Yes, it can be a good love story... Who groovlstk will choice ? Chuck Norris or Irina     

Joking... but i have good laugh about the sexual interest of Chuck Norris for groovlstk... i like these trip report with details and anecdote...

[viking]

And his attention to detail is amazing. Groove, do you keep a tape recorder with you? Or just a photographic memory? Wiz is right.  You should really think about becoming an author.

[groovlstk]

Thanks guys, but the NY Times would write my story in a much different way, I'm certain. I'd be the chauvinistic thug out to exploit a woman from a poor country. I'm sure they'd figure out how to explain away her new Volvo, beautiful apartment, and high living standard Funny enough, a recent movie called Heading South got rave reviews from the Times' critics. It's about a group of 50something women who takes sex vacations to Haiti every Summer.

[groovlstk]

Part II

Her dad was in his bedroom with the door closed when we entered, and Chuck must have forgotten me from my previous visit because he barked and growled at me but wouldn't come close. Suited me just fine. I swapped my sandals for a pair of slippers Irina had bought me and then unpacked in her bedroom. After a long shower we walked to the local market. One of the things I never did adjust to is that it doesn't get dark in Moscow in Summer until around 11PM. And even in the wee hours it doesn't seem to be fully dark as dawn seems always on the horizon. We picked up some juice, bread, and chicken, and went back to enjoy a late dinner. I kept wondering when the old man would make an appearance, and mid-way through dinner he walked into the kitchen wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants. Irina quickly apologized, explaining that he'd been very nervous about meeting me and so he'd been drinking since early afternoon. We shook hands and he sized me up. I went to Irina's room and retrieved a gift I'd bought for him, a long-sleeved HBO Boxing t-shirt. I figured if we had to slug it out, at least he could look official. He thanked me and sat down while we ate. Through Irina as translator, he asked me., "what is the most important thing in your world?" I instantly replied "my family." He talked for awhile, and Irina told me he'd replied that she was the most important part of his world, and I'd damn well better not forget it. He was firm but not confrontational, and my respect for him nudged up a few notches. I know about 75 words in Russian now and he laughed as we chatted, Irina explained that my Russian was overly formal (thanks, Pimsleur!) and he'd never spoken with an American before. Soon he drifted back to his room and, drunk or not, I was impressed with him. He certainly wasn't the shell of a man I'd expected to meet. Irina explained to me that the last ten years have been nothing but a horror show for him. He'd turned a corner a few years back and eased up on the sauce when he met and fell in love with another woman, but she was brutally murdered and the case remains unsolved. In all my time at her flat, he was mostly drunk but he was a gentle, congenial drunk. So many alcoholics can be brutal and nasty, it was a relief to me to know he's not this type. One thing that seemed strange, however, was that Chuck would go nuts whenever he came near Irina, getting between them and barking and growling as if her dad intended to harm her. Chuck wasn't the same with me, he even slept next to our bed and dozed off in boredom while we were making love, the cheeky lout. Irina explained to me that Chuck is very protective of her and can sense when her dad is drunk, even if he's harmless.

We took Chuck for a walk before going to bed, he has to be the most energetic dog I've ever encountered. When there's no one around or we get far enough in the countryside where she's unlikely to encounter others, Irina lets him off his leash and he sprints around like a lunatic. During my time in Moscow I saw him tree at least three different cats, catch and eat a frog, gulp a fly that made the mistake of cruising near his face, and scare the bejesus out of countless other dogs and their owners.

The next day we woke up late and had a lazy breakfast, then took a bus to Irina's workplace. We met some of her colleagues and then had lunch at Moo-Moo, a cafeteria-style restaurant that I like very much. We then took a marshrutka to the metro and dropped off a copy of my passport and entry card for registration. As we walked along the street near the travel agency, I remembered that on my last trip we'd had a long, fruitless talk here and nearly parted forever. Irina must have been thinking the same thing, because she pulled me aside and kissed me deeply on the same stairs where we'd argued two months earlier. Her affection for me is boundless, and I'm expected to return it in kind. A funny aside: on our first meeting, after Irina moved into my flat, one morning during breakfast she was withdrawn and quiet. I knew something was wrong, and after some cajoling over tea she eventually explained to me that she was upset because the previous night I hadn't held her in my arms all night long. I explained to her that I had surgery for a back injury many years ago, and although it rarely bothers me I must sleep on my back or risk waking up with pain. "If you turn over or move away from me," I explained, "there's not much I can do." She agreed to accommodate me this way, and then explained to me in a serious tone that I must hold her in my arms all night long, every night, no exceptions. In many ways Russian girls give new meaning to the term high maintenance, but some of this maintenance is an absolute pleasure.

The next morning we met Irina's sis, Natasha. Natasha is two years younger than Irina, she married at 17 and her husband is 25 years older than she is. Irina explained to me that Natasha has had a lover for the last five years. Her lover is married and tells her he'll leave his wife for her, someday. I shook my head sadly and explained to Irina that he'll never leave his wife, and she agreed and made me promise that no matter what difficulties we experience in our future, if we drift apart or whatever, we must at least be honest with each other and avoid such humiliation. I kissed her and swore I'd uphold our agreement for the rest of my life.

Note to newbies: If you think girls like Natasha are rare in Russia/Ukraine and wish to believe the agency hype about "traditional woman," then good luck to you but save yourself some trouble now and join a monastery. Infidelity is much more common than what you're exposed to here in dry, sexless America or even Western Europe. Make sure you choose your girl carefully; I think Leslie has posted often on "trust yet verify" and I couldn't agree more. If you go into this venture with naive romantic notions chances are you're going to get chewed up and spit out. I know, because it happened to me, but that's a story for another day.

[Todd]

Keep writing as you get the chance.  Kate and I really enjoy reading these. 

Todd

[wiz]

Groov

I don't agree about NY. Times. Daily record maybe would have a field day.......

Any how whatever happens you can publish the book later as it makes an excellent reading.

You say: "while we were making love....."

Do you think you are in love with Iryna already?

Or you are using this expression because you have strong feelings towards her and its much nicer instead of writing "we were having sex"?

[groovlstk]

Do you think you are in love with Iryna already?

Or you are using this expression because you have strong feelings towards her and its much nicer instead of writing "we were having sex"?

I'm absolutely in love with her, and the feeling is reciprocated We didn't use the L-word until after I'd returned from our first meeting, when we realized how terribly we missed each other.

[groovlstk]

Part III

I donned my swimming trunks while Polina and Natasha wore bikinis and shorts, and we walked to a river near her flat. There were many children playing in the water and couples lounging around on towels. I was not taking any chances so I didn't venture into the water past my ankles, it looked clean but chances are it's not. I'd bought Irina an iPod Nano as a gift ($138 at newgg.com) and we shared her earphones and listened to Russian pop music. It was sunny and hot but within the hour dark storm clouds gathered. I had an umbrella in my backpack, so unlike most of the other people we decided to wait out the storm. As the warm rain began to fall we huddled together under the umbrella, two gorgeous women in bikinis and one lucky shmuck. I thought to myself, "man, if my friends could only see me now..." Soon a small group of people came to us, they had a naked little boy with them and he was shivering in the rain. We made room for him under the umbrella and Irina wrapped him in my towel. I told her to cover his head with another towel as most of his body heat was escaping from his noggin, and for once she didn't dismiss me (she often questions my knowledge of health/diet/medicine). Irina and Natasha spoke gently with him and soon he stopped shivering. The rain stopped and the sun reappeared, and we'd made some new friends. Two men from the group kept trying to get me to drink from their vodka bottle, and when they found out I was American they peppered me with questions. One of the men asked me how American women compared to Russian women, and by their reaction to my gestures I knew they didn't need translation. When one of the men found out I play hockey, he invited me to play for his local team when Winter arrived. When he found out Irina and I had a serious relationship, he told me he'd often heard of American men coming to Moscow and treating their women very well. But that when the woman comes to the US, everything changes and the man treats her like dirt. Irina smiled slyly as she translated this, knowing she was putting me on the hotseat.

Later, as we walked back to her flat, Irina explained that she didn't like the men because they were uneducated and probably drunk most of the time. The wife of one of the men had a nasty cut on her face, freshly stitched, and explained to us that she'd recently fallen down and cut herself. Irina told me it was more likely that her husband had done it.

That evening we went to the local market and bought two cans of Baltika 7, our preferred poison, and sat on some benches outside of her apartment building sipping and talking as darkness fell. A group of men were drinking nearby, and Irina pointed out one of the men I'd encountered on my last trip to Moscow. He's married and lives in her building, has a penchant for clownish ties and green sports jackets, and hits on her whenever he sees her. I can live with all of his flaws except the last.

The next morning we picked up my registration from a travel agency and then went for a walk along old Arbat. We were scheduled to fly from Moscow to Sochi the next day. Irina had made all the arrangements and paid for her own airline tickets as well as 1/2 of our resort cost.

[groovlstk]

Part IV

Irina hates flying and every time we hit some turbulence or she heard a noise, she'd stiffen, so I spent most of the two-hour flight comforting her. I wasn't all that thrilled either, but the Aeroflot flight was a regularly scheduled flight and not a charter (I'm more wary of charters). The same day I returned home there was a crash in Irkutsk and then a spate of groundings. More and more I'm liking trains.

We arrived in Sochi simultaneously with another flight, and baggage claims was a zoo. I saw the mass of people elbowing each other and told Irina to stay near the doors while I fished out our bags. Our destination was a small town about 40 kms from Sochi called Vardane. All over Sochi I saw signs proclaiming the city was an applicant city to host the 2014 Winter Olympics. It's a nice place but if they ever hope to host the Olympics they'll need massive upgrades to the city's infrastructure.

Our ride to Vardane was insane, and for some reason the seatbelts had been removed from the taxi. The winding road was one lane in each direction, and traffic was heavy as there were many slow-moving construction vehicles toiling up the hills. Several times we encountered groups of cows standing or sleeping in the road. The Russian drivers didn't even bother slowing down, they simply swerved around the cows, missing by inches. Later in the week we saw a herd of wild horses trotting through the streets. When the horses came near a bus stop, several young Russian women immediately grabbed their cameras and posed in front of the horses while their friends snapped photos. I don't think even the most savvy politician can compete with a Russian woman when it comes to taking advantage of photo ops.

Our hotel was very nice, and when the manager learned I was American, she told Irina she was giving us her best room. They'd never had an American stay there before, and I'm willing to bet they rarely see foreigners. I don't think the village was poor, but to get into our hotel we had to pass through a gate manned by an armed guard. Here's the view from our room's balcony:

http://home.comcast.net/~marka136/hotel_pool.jpg

The beach was rocky, as I expected, and not quite as picturesque as the grand views I had when in Simeiz exactly one year ago on this same day.

http://home.comcast.net/~marka136/beach_.jpg

http://home.comcast.net/~marka136/rockybeach.jpg

One thing that skeeved me out was that most of the older men wore tight, bikini-style swimsuits. Even worse, when they were lying on their stomachs tanning, they'd yank the swimsuit into their butt cheeks to raise their tan lines, with the net effect that we were surrounded by a bunch of guys in thongs! Gah! When I confessed to Irina that it grossed me out, she took great delight in pointing out other bethonged men while we were on the beach. At 1:30 we walked back to our hotel for lunch. One thing about our all-inclusive resort: you ate when the meal was served, no earlier and no later, and if you didn't like what was served you simply went hungry. When the manager saw us enter the dining area, she led us to a table near the window, barking orders at the waitresses so that they served us first. Irina found the way she treated us amusing, but honestly after the first day it was tiresome. We were surrounded by Russian families, most with small children, who'd probably scraped and saved all year to afford a week's vacation at the beach, and here some sunburned American was being treated like royalty? It was uncomfortable but I also realized that by raising this with the manager she'd no doubt feel very insulted. The food was mostly good but I conspired to eat at local cafes at every possible opportunity, which wasn't very often because Irina saw this as a waste of money. However, the local cafes were incredibly inexpensive; I paid about $3 for a big plate of sashlik, potatoes, and Russian salad.

We spent the afternoon at the hotel pool, listening to a local radio station playing on the security guard's big boombox. I swear, if I ever hear another techno rendition of the theme song from Beverly Hills Cop, I'll commit hari-kari on the spot. There were a good number of single moms (or at least they were vacationing alone with their children), and in the early evening they'd all sit out by the pool smoking and sipping on bottles of Baltika.

Irina has very light skin, like me, but at least she eventually tans. One afternoon we took an excursion and I forgot to put sunblock on my feet. I wore sandals, and afterwards I noticed I had a bright, angry red square on the top of my feet where the sandals were open. Strangely enough, it hasn't peeled since I returned, but instead turned a deep bronze. Finally I can boast that I have a tan, only it's too bad it pretty much looks as if I simply have a White Castle hamburger on the tops of my feet.

[JustPlaneCrazy]

I am really enjoying this report

So many things sound so familiar, like the thong clad men which I saw on my many trips to the Baltic sea by Kaliningrad, Russia.....

Also, it must be a Russian woman thing about the money, my x-girlfriend would get so mad if I spent $1 US on a cup of coffee she could make for almost nothing.....

[groovlstk]

Part V

The next morning we talked about doing some excursions, since I'm not really a lay-on-the-beach-all-day kind of guy, especially when surrounded by all those men in thongs. We agreed to hit a nearby waterpark. I've always thought of waterparks as sort of redneck Disneylands, but then again I had ever visited one. Needless to say I was wrong, we had an absolute blast and I'll never forget this day.

I'm breaking a rule of mine by posting a photo of my girl in a public forum, but I don't think she'd mind too much since she's not recognizable.

http://home.comcast.net/~marka136/aquapark.jpg

I discovered that by dragging one of my feet along the walls of one if the slide's twisty bits, I could turn our dual float backwards and make the trip much more exciting since we couldn't see where we were going. Irina loved it and always laughed when we hit the pool at the bottom and I'd fly backwards out of our float and ingest another pint of chlorinated water.

By the end of the day we were both exhausted and waterlogged, and I was happy that we'd arrived back to our hotel too late for dinner. Bring on the sashlik and Baltika!

The next morning we went on another excursion, this time in a 4WD jeep that took us through the mountains. Just before our ride arrived, there was a long torrential shower, but soon the sun peeked out from behind the clouds and the day was again bright and steamy. Our vehicle was an old Soviet-era jeep with little finish, and during our drive to pick up another couple it stalled a few times. The driver worked the manual choke for awhile but soon gave up and made a call on his cell phone. About 15 minutes later a Mercedes jeep arrived and we swapped vehicles. The Merc was at least 15 years old, but I felt much more secure.

http://home.comcast.net/~marka136/merc.jpg

We picked up an older married Russian couple, and soon we were off-road. Within minutes the woman was chattering loudly at the driver, urging him to slow down, even though we rarely exceeded 5MPH. The terrain was very rough and coupled with the earlier shower, we were slogging through mud that was as high as our tires. I swore a few times there was no way we'd get through such mud but our driver was skilled and the Merc was up to the task. At one point, we parked and the driver walked us to a waterfall. A group of other off-road drivers sat at a picnic table having lunch.

You can see how the rainfall earlier had muddied the water.

http://home.comcast.net/~marka136/waterfall.jpg

We didn't see a paved road for hours, but high in the mountains we came across a few ramshackle homes with farms. We stopped at a tea farm and I noticed every time we rested the driver chugged two cans of Pepsi. The heat, coupled with the Merc's manual steering, not to mention the babushka's constant haranguing, was dehydrating him.

http://home.comcast.net/~marka136/chai.jpg

http://home.comcast.net/~marka136/chai2.jpg

The mountains were beautiful and lush, at some points we had lovely views of the Black Sea, but each time we stopped droves of big black biting flies descended on us so it was best to keep moving.

By the time we arrived back at our hotel, my arms and shoulders were numb from having to grip the Merc's roll bar as we bounced along for the last four hours. We arrived just in time for dinner (rats!), which was chicken with pasta and mayo--it's not as bad as it sounds, but then again I was pretty hungry. In the evening we walked to the beach and had a long talk. For the last month, we've been planning our future together and there's no doubt in my mind what my goals are. Irina would prefer I moved to Moscow but I've tried in the past to find a decent job there, with not even an interview to show for the dozens of resumes I mailed. She's resigned to coming to the US and I know with her intelligence, talent, and work ethic she'll be successful here. She's a big-city girl so Manhattan won't intimidate her in the least. She doesn't have perfect English but I know she will acquire it quickly; she's light-years beyond the many previous FSU women I've dated in terms of confidence and forthrightness. For all her tenderness and vulnerability with me, I don't get a pass on the forthrightness part; if I step out of line I get a jab in the ribs and a "blin!" or "foo!" The setting sun was beautiful and the occasional bolts of lightning from a distant storm over the lights of Sochi made it even more so. If only the beach wasn't comprised of rocks we'd have stayed there for hours, but it was impossible to get comfortable for more than a few minutes.

I've read about kvas on RWD before and was interested to try it. When we were in Moscow, I saw some at a kiosk and bought a big can. I was disappointed to find that it tasted like a black & tan infused with sweaty athletic sock. I'd also read that street vendors selling kvas in a big tank had a better product, so I tried it and it was a million times better than canned kvas, but still an acquired taste.

[PeeWee]

You are the best trip reporter I know of so far, Groover. Good work.

Peewee

[Jet]

hehe yeah, stay away from the "commercially" produced kvas at all costs! I love the yellow tank on the side of the road stuff, but it's not for everyone. Great trip report so far!
 

[Momus]

I'm breaking a rule of mine by posting a photo of my girl in a public forum, but I don't think she'd mind too much since she's not recognizable.

The recognizable parts are lovely. Nicely done, Groov. I must say, though, it's disturbing to see that they even dress their little boys in those banana hammocks.

To echo the others, I always enjoy your trip reports.

[groovlstk]

Thanks Momus, I think my TR days are winding down, or at least that future TRs will have the same principal cast

If you haven't found Stoichman's TRs yet, have a look deep in the TR archives here. They're very interesting and should be required reading. Also Anono's. I learned a lot of do's and don'ts from these guys before I'd stepped foot in Ukraine or Russia.

[groovlstk]

Part VI

Breakfast was the one meal we never missed although later in the week I did my best to sleep past the 8:30AM serving, with a big fat zero in terms of success. If we'd already paid for our breakfast, there was no way Irina was going to skip it. With all the hospitality the manager and waitresses showed us, I did my best to eat everything they put in front of me. But I think if I had to eat another lukewarm serving of rice in sweet milk for breakfast I was going to fake solidarity with Saddam by going on a hunger strike.

We took another excursion the next day, this time to visit a mountain that featured 33 waterfalls. Irina warned me that we would be drinking a lot of wine along the way, as local people set up tables all along our route and poured samples for anyone interested. Irina wore a pair of tiny white short shorts that had every man on our tour drooling. Our bus was full and we grabbed a seat in the back.

http://home.comcast.net/~marka136/tour_bus.jpg

Our first stop was at a local farmers' market, where local yokels sold wine, honey, and various types of fruit and vegetables. Everyone on the bus over the age of 15 hustled over to the table where the wine was set up. Elbows flew as people grappled for the supply of small plastic cups. A single young girl would talk for 30 seconds while showing everyone a 2-liter bottle of red or white wine, explaining its origin and flavor. Then she'd begin pouring samples and people crowded forward holding their cups. This was repeated about a dozen times. Most of the wine was too sweet to my taste but I did try an interesting almond-flavored cognac, a bottle of which I bought back with me.

Our next stop was at a depot where we switched vehicles, jumping onto the backs of old Soviet-era flatbeds.

http://home.comcast.net/~marka136/truck.jpg

Soon we were crashing through riverbeds over very rocky terrain, again I held on for dear life. In the absence of tort law in Russia, an infinite possibility of fun and crazy activities are open for everyone.

http://home.comcast.net/~marka136/excursion.jpg

After a few miles, seemingly in the middle of nowhere we came upon a series of cafes and shops along a dirt road. Many more wine sellers lined the path, and Irina warned me not to drink anymore until we'd climbed to see our waterfalls, as the trail was a bit treacherous. And yes, I did sample every single bottle of wine on that table to the right, along with a few others.

http://home.comcast.net/~marka136/wine.jpg

The waterfalls were beautiful, although to reach all 33 we'd have had to go off the beaten path, which our guide explained would put us back at the bus too late. I wore sandals and a bathing suit so I wasn't up to any serious hiking, regardless.

There were various locals with tame critters, I snapped a photo of a mean-looking owl before Irina told me I was supposed to pay the owner for the privilege.

http://home.comcast.net/~marka136/owl.jpg

After all the climbing and walking on a steamy day, I gladly entered a deep pool of water at the base of one of the waterfalls for a photo op. The water was excruciatingly cold and within ten seconds I was freezing. We returned to the base of the mountain and had lunch at one of the cafes, and afterwards we went wine-tasting. Most of the wines tasted like grape juice with a little alcohol in the bargain. Once, one of the vendors poured me a small glass of vodka, and Irina told me it was water. Already suspecting it wasn't, I gulped it down and pretended nothing was amiss, and then politely asked the vendor for another glass of water. Irina laughed and pulled me away from the table before I got too comfortable.

I teased Irina about the strange manner in which Russian people were sometimes fastidious, sometimes not. For instance, I'd just shared the same plastic wine cup with everyone on our tour who tasted wine before me, and no one had a problem with it. And during breakfast, many of the Russian men reached into shared plates with their own forks without even blinking. "OK. So what's up with the foot fetish?" I asked her. I was strictly forbidden to enter her flat with my shoes on, and having visited more than a dozen flats in Russia and Ukraine on previous trips I knew the drill and protocol. OK, understood. But at SVO1, when I was asked to remove my shoes before going through the metal detector, I saw the attendant make a face when I simply tossed my sandals onto the conveyer belt and didn't bother to don the little hospital socks they provided when I walked through the metal detector. Then, one afternoon while we were at our resort's pool, I made a faux pas by walking ten feet across the concrete from my lounge chair to the pool in my bare feet. One of the attendants came over and quietly told Irina that I must wear my sandals right up until the moment I arrived at the pool's entry ladder. Only then could I go commando. Irina laughed and I teased her more, but eventually she explained that it was more a matter of manners than any attempt at cleanliness.

And for the record, we've already negotiated a footwear protocol for when she comes to live with me. I'm bound by promise to remove my shoes when I enter our flat. However, if I maintain a flat-only pair of shoes which I never wear outside, I'm welcome to don this pair rather than slippers. In Summer, I'm free to go barefoot in our flat provided I crossed the threshold of our flat initially wearing shoes. Guests are free of such constraints and may freely move about the cabin with whatever footgear they have on by default; however, when they leave it's our dual responsibility to clean up after them. This discussion is still the source of many laughs for us, since Chuck Norris has eaten at least four pairs of Irina's leather shoes, she's now down to two pairs of high heels, which I told her places her in the lowest percentile of the world's female population in terms of shoe ownership.

Soon, we piled back onto the flatbeds and after another bone-rattling ride, we boarded our bus. We drove for about 15 minutes and then pulled up at a honeybee farm. We were ushered into a big cabin with benches, the place was crawling with honeybees. A few people freaked out but most stayed and listened to the owner show us the different types of honey they sold. There were at least a dozen varieties, and the drone of the woman's voice competed with the drone of the hundreds of bees flying around the room. Irina doesn't yet have a strong grasp of the nuances of English, and I almost lost it entirely when she whispered seriously in my ear, "the woman says this type of honey is good for your c*ck."

http://home.comcast.net/~marka136/honeybear.jpg

We had one more stop before the day was finished, a tree that was several hundred years old, and had come from America. I'm no arborist nor was I able to find out much about its history, perhaps someone who knows more can fill us in? The Russian people in our tour totally disregarded the fence and walked to the tree, where they reached out a hand and touched it for several seconds. Irina explained that the tree was supposed to provide good luck in all aspects of life except financial.

http://home.comcast.net/~marka136/tree_of_life.jpg

When we arrived back at our hotel it was still daylight, so we walked to the beach and found one of the few sandy areas and sat and talked some more about our plans for the future. Irina wants a child, maybe two, as do I. We want many of the same things in life, we're comfortable with our roles in our relationship.

http://home.comcast.net/~marka136/sunset.jpg

We'd missed dinner so as the sun set we went to our favorite local cafe. I had sashlik for what seemed like the 20th straight day, but it was still damn good.

When we walked back to our hotel, I noticed they'd opened the outdoor bar/cafe for the first time since we'd arrived. Irina explained to me that the high season didn't start until the first week of July. There was a man we'd befriended earlier in the week, he was there with his young daughter. His wife had died in a car accident five months earlier. He urged us to share a bottle of wine with him, and asked through Irina what I thought of Russian women. It's obvious to me that one of the greatest sources of pride for Russian people is their woman. And brother, they'll get no argument from me. After we returned to our room, Irina told me the man had quizzed her on why she was dating an American. This question seemed to pop up quite often, and when she explained to some of these people that we loved each other, not all of them believed it. After that she resorted to telling people who were curious that we were married, which suited me fine.

[JustPlaneCrazy]

It sounds to me like you have a wonderful woman groovlstk, I am envious

If I may ask, what is her age and yours?

Todd

[groovlstk]

thanks JPC, yeah she's a keeper. I'm 42 and she's 26. Before I met her, I pretty much exclusively dated women in their 30s, the few I dated who were younger confirmed my age cap because they simply weren't mature enough. We talked about the age difference often before I committed to flying to Moscow in May to see her for the first time. I'm still a little uncomfortable with it only because when she comes here I think the more predatious men in my area will immediately think she's a MOB who came here simply for a better life, and they'll hit on her more aggressively. I can deal with the whispers and jealousy but I wish she didn't have to. But such is life...

[Todd]

Great trip report.  Groov, when Polina comes...or even before...I'm sure Kate would be glad to talk to her.
She is the same age, and one surprise for Kate about coming to the US is that she still feels that men are constantly
trying to pick her up.  In fact, there is one area of Boston that she now absolutely hates because men
try to pick her up all the time.  As an FYI, it has nothing to do with being from overseas as they can't tell
that immediately.  I think one of her biggest disappointments about coming here has been the way other men
have treated her. 

As for being treated differently by family and friends....the most common response that I get is that she is waaaay
too good for me.  I'm inclined to agree that I'm one lucky schlub.  No one has ever questioned her about being a GCG. 

[JustPlaneCrazy]

Great trip report.  Groov, when Polina comes...or even before...I'm sure Kate would be glad to talk to her.
She is the same age, and one surprise for Kate about coming to the US is that she still feels that men are constantly
trying to pick her up.  In fact, there is one area of Boston that she now absolutely hates because men
try to pick her up all the time.  As an FYI, it has nothing to do with being from overseas as they can't tell
that immediately.  I think one of her biggest disappointments about coming here has been the way other men
have treated her. 

As for being treated differently by family and friends....the most common response that I get is that she is waaaay
too good for me.  I'm inclined to agree that I'm one lucky schlub.  No one has ever questioned her about being a GCG. 

Funny......my girl's name is Kate and she turned 26 yesterday......and my name is Todd......

[groovlstk]

Thanks Todd, you can be sure I'll be taking you up on that!