Still without good computer access!

Still having issues with finding a computer that I can successfully type on, probably on Saturday I will be able to write more. For now, here is a quintessential photo of any Eastern Europe journey. I do love Trabbis...

Traveling across Eastern Europe via train on my way back to Italia to see the parts I was too studyriffic to see before... Naples and Pompeii ahoy!

The laptop died so I will have to wait for my arrival to Italia and depend on a friends computer to construct long blathering posts about my past few adventures. I am writing on a Hungarian keyboard now... the y and z are switched and all the special characters are very hard to find...

Off to explore before I hop on another train!

All aboard!!!!!!!!!

In case you didn't know...

You can click on any of the photos to see bigger versions of them. I hesitate to post this because now it will be all too clear how often I really have my eyes shut...

When the cat's away...

You know the rest... the saying exists in Russia too, where the cat came in the form of my great boss, Roman, who was nice enough to go on a week long trip to Toronto to attend the international BBBS conference.

He got some amazing ideas of how to better market the BBBS brand here in Russia and how to improve employee and board of directors standards.
I got to be the excuse for the "mice" to skip out of work early many days in order to make sure I was getting a proper "Russian experience" during my internship.

Monday saw us riding on boats on the Moscow river:

On Thursday, I found myself rollerskating in a beautiful park with the usual suspects (Marina and Ilena):




Valentine opted for 2 wheels instead of 8





We were determined not to let a few ominous grey clouds ruin our plans for a good time. Even when the thunder roared angrily, we skated with as much reckless abandon as one can manage when dominated by thoughts of keeping one's balance.

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Then the rain hit.

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This was no pedestrian, vanilla summer shower. Moscow was once again telling me that I should never taunt it (ask me personally about the multiple slices of humble pie I've been served in this city during this and my last visit). We sought shelter in one of the many Shashlik (meat on a skewer- oh yeah) stands, underneath a tarp that provided just enough shelter from the blowing rain. We huddled around the umbrella post in the middle to get as far away as possible from the angry, horizontal drops. Not satisfied, the clouds unleashed the hail, threatening to destroy our flimsy covering and clogging the drains. This resulted in our serious consideration of the possibilities of finding Noah as the level began to rise...

and rise... oh dear. We were huddled on the pedestal of the umbrella, a good 4 inches off of the ground, and were even higher due to our skates, but the water crept up and threatened our dry toes.
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After it ended, we said a little prayer of gratitude and, realizing that my hour of skate rental had just rolled over into two, took full advantage of the additional time to enjoy the much less crowded park. Ilena's second time ever on rollerblades was successful and we all left the park dry, tired, and without a single spill between us. The only strange occurrence was the rental location's insistence that I take their socks to wear. I had perfectly good rainbow striped socks to enhance my appearance and wore them instead (life's always better with funny socks, thanks for teaching me that, Grandma :). In communist Russia, socks wear you! No no, I didn't just do that, did I? Mi Dispiace!

When we realized we had about five minutes to return my rentals and were on the other side of the park, we got crafty and I got the fastest blading experience of my life.











Thanks Valentine!






Friday was a day to get out of the city, to see Russia as the majority of its residents experience it every day. I got a very old sense of deja vu as I turned off my conscious mind and let my "spidey senses" guide me to my meeting spot with Marina at Savelovskaya, the metro line I used to use each day as I traveled to my internship at Kidsave, Intl. From there, we purchased tickets and rode for an hour and a half on the big lumbering green metal train that groaned in protest as Newon's laws were demonstrated at each stop and start. We hopped off at Marozki, the village where Marina grew up. Its bordered on the west by a manmade canal, said to be "built on bones" because during Stalin's reign, many prisoners lost their lives digging it and were buried in the ground as other worked around them.


We walked to the local preschool where her mom was about to get off of work. From there we went to her apartment where Marina and her mom had lived together until she got married last year. The simple two room apartment had the smallest kitchen I had ever viewed. Marina's bedroom was covered with Beatles posters, and decorations from all kinds of American bands. The paper on walls of the aging flat were ripped almost to shreds by one very naughty but charming individual named Thomas (aptly named so since he used one of two pets, sharing the living space with a rat named Jerry):



Her mother, anticipating our arrival, had purchased "Confetti" which are the delicious individually wrapped chocolate or taffy based candies that one can purchase so inexpensively in bulk at almost any store or metro station. The varieties are infinite- tender marshmallow covered in dark chocolate, rich nut truffles, soft toffees enrobed in chocolate, fruit cordials, wafers with cream... awesomeness, individually wrapped.

We had some tea and munched on our snack while talking about her life growing up and the privatization process she was going through in order to "own" the apartment they had technically been leasing from the government since Soviet times. Like any change in policy, it is sold as a "free and easy" process. It's free if you have hours and hours to spend on paperwork, always returning to the same office only to be sent on another paper trail. Free also if you let an inspector come into your flat- paying for his taxi and using your own time during business hours to accompany him. Or, you can pay about ten grand to a lawyer who will have it done for you the next day. Skepticism is rampant here, one need to do little digging to understand why.




When her mom came home, we hit it off immediately. She really wanted to feed us but we had other plans, so she was satisfied with making sure I had one of every kind of Confetti she had bought to take with me and we said our goodbyes. Marina then took me on a walk around her beautiful little village where I could take in the houses displaying what is fast becoming one of my newest fascinations: old, pre-soviet Russian architecture.





This house is unique, typically the houses look like they come from a fairy tale... perhaps a very ancient fairy tale because they are largely dilapidated, but still have their steep pitched roofs, intricate mouldings around the trim with tiny cutouts, and pastel colored wood accents contrasting nicely against the darker wood that makes up the majority of the house. I think what makes these houses so appealing is that you can really still feel them when you look at them. These homes were made by hand, and were quite labor intensive. You can feel the energy that comes from someone putting their all into creating a dwelling that the family has used for generations. Most people live in large apartment complexes if they live in any kind of populated area, only those living in the tiniest villages live in houses. The majority of the apartments were constructed during Soviet times and are all about the same from the outside. They are worn on the outside, all stacked next to each other, but they all have playgrounds outside and inside are families who make the most of what they have. I think I had been brainwashed into thinking your mood can be heavily influenced by your houses appearance... I think I'd allowed Better Homes and Gardens and HGTV to convince me of that crap.




No, the families who live here do what they can to make the homes reflect who they are. The children are the same as anywhere, they love to play on the aging playground equipment and have no idea it's not state of the art. Kids chase each other, swing, play with slingshots, and get yelled at by their parents. The families are so hospitable when you enter their home, offering little confetti, tea, cakes, anything they have in their tiny kitchens (Stalin envisioned people eating in workplace cafeterias largely and having little need for expansive home kitchens or living rooms for that matter). Even with almost nothing (five children shared one bicycle!), Nadia told me her childhood was happy and loving. I'm humbled by the strength of these people, and sad at their pessimism about the future of their country and people.





So we hopped back on the train for another 20 minutes and got off in Dimitriov, or "Little Moscow" because it was also founded by Yuri Dolgoruki (Translates as Yuri Longarms). We had a fun time in this newly revamped city that boasted shops, restaurants, and a freshly built feel, something unusual for this country and rather out of place. Still, one can't argue with inexpensive but yummy sushi (ALWAYS prepared by Kazaks) available outside of Moscow or St. Pete. The business lunch deals make almost any restaurant affordable. I witnessed "hot rolls" for the first time, which are white fish fillets surrounding rice, wrapped in seaweed, and then deep fried. They are then cut into the familiar shape and topped with rich sauces. I stuck with the ones, but was amazed at the different varieties on my plate that I had never experienced before.We played in the old parks, shopped in the new stores, and actually bought the same shirt (different colors!), which indicated to us that we had been spending a wee bit too much time together.

The week ended too quickly, and Roman was back by Tuesday. I brought in cupcakes to welcome his return and give everyone a taste of proper baked goods, which never, ever come in shrink wrap.

I'd like to call this montage...

"Upon finding themselves stuck in the backseat, Katinka and Heather discover via the catalystic qualities of a camera, that they share an equal maturity level"

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I'm in the Land of Lenin!

I sang the words as I frolicked among decaying statues that adorned the park in which Marina, Valentine, and I spent part of our afternoon. Some of the statues which stood tall in the park were rescued after the fall of communism, parts of the park contain sculptures depicting the triumphs of their soldiers or great masters of the arts, and still other sculptures depict the horrors of Stalin's repression. Standing tall and proud behind it all is the enormous statue of Peter the Great...

err, or is it?

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The statue was originally a gift for America- it was Christopher Columbus discovering America (let's skip all the P.C. arguments about who actually discovered what, shall we? It's a paid holiday so I'll take it). Long story short, America took a gander at the Ogre-like creature in a boat nowhere near the ability to support his weight and said "thanks but no thanks." Oh well, in Russia, you don't waste anything. Old bread is eaten until it is literally inpalatable and thereafter made fermented into a popular beverage called Kvass. So they lobbed off ol' Chris's head and replaced it with the Euro-phile's and suddenly it is a statue of Peter the Great watching over Moscow.

Sound too far fetched to be true? This girl would agree, so she did some digging.

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First, look at the base of the statue: Three boats depicted at the bottom.

Second: Peter the Great would not have been gazing approvingly at Moscow. He established the capital at St. Petersburg because he saw it as Russia's "Window to the West" offering it easy access to what he fully believed was the more civilized part of the continent. Any statue this huge is misplaced (and abhorred by most of Moscow's locals)

Third: Even tour guides who have studied history have backed up the story. I got to talk to one firsthand after my boat ride on the Moscow River with coworkers. We got hooked up with a free watery tour because the tourguide, a historian, is a good friend of my coworker, Ilena.

So there just might be some truth to this story...

Anyway, one should not assume that the reminders of this land's Bolshevik uprising are confined to parks. Metro stations continue to boast their original decor. The wall of metro stateion Ploshad Ilichya, greets me with a giant profile of the Lenin man each morning as I swich lines. Stations boast names like "Proletariat Place," "Street of the year 1905," "Marksist Place," and the "Lenin Library." Not to mention Lenin's tomb, which continues to draw interested tourists, and aging pilgrims in droves.Let's not forget the great Moscow State University, the most prestigous institution of higher learning in the country, designed by Stalin himself and still boasting its original symbols

Further Communist fun:

A wet and icky first Saturday in Moscow didn't stop this girl from adventuring out into the city. My good friend, Marina, met me in the metro station and introduced me to her hustband, Valentine. He's half Ukranian, half Russian, and doesn't really fit into either category very well, although he prefers Kiev to Moscow and moved here just to marry dear Marina 9 months ago.

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We went to an expansive park that was formerly an exhibition area for all the Soviet Republics' grand accomplishments. Each Republic was represented by its own individually designed exhibiton hall. The buildings surrounded a sprawling park with fountains, statues, and Soviet rockets and airplanes. There is a sculpture to honor Yuri Gagarin- Marina: Because we were first, you know? Me: Yeah, I know, you guys sent the first dog into space! Poor Laika.

A wonderful fountain displays the different industries...



with Agriculture looking strangely like a certain Ukranian...
Timoshenko's great great grandmother???

Soviet stars and symbols are everywhere. You really can see firsthand the lengths the Party went to in maintaing the fascade they were always prosperous and building pride in its citizens.

We decided not to let the awful weather get us down and instead took advantage of globalization by means of German engineering of the "Wilde Maus"

In an appropriate end of the afternoon's stroll down USSR memory lane, we all enjoyed a late lunch at McDonald's. It's really where to eat when you want to live like a local, as each of the many locations are always teeming with Muscovites, anytime of the day, and almost all are open 24 hours. Plus, it's one of the few places one can afford to eat out on an non-profit organziation salary.

Here they have a cheese sauce you can get for your french fries, and actually you have a choice of classic Micky D's fries or potato wedges. While you have to pay for condiments, I have to say it's worth it for the solid mass that comes in a bbq sauce sized container and tastes like a mix between mayonaise and cheeze whiz. It's about the perfect accompanyment to your fried 'taters and reinforces my belief that Russians won't eat anything without either sour cream or mayo. While most prices are reasonable and/or comparable to the US, the 35 cent ice cream cones still reign strong as my favorite item on the menu!

I ended the evening at home, sampling Russian wine with Nadia and Sergei and then staying up way too late with Nadia talking about boys... some things you never outgrow :)

Pattymelts in Paradise...

My two weeks at home began ideally and never really stopped having a surreal air of pleasantness. Real breakfasts. Italians don't really fancy them. But a fresh omlette full of sauteed onions, ham, and melted cheese accompanied by rye toast let me know that I was back in the land of well... everything. I polished off my own and helped Mom with hers... I'm a good helper like that.

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The first day consisted of little major activity. I had a wonderful run around the town, enjoying the cool air on my skin, breathing it in as it almost intoxicated me with its clean aroma full of honeysuckle, freshly cut grass, I never really realized how amazing the air is in this small town, but after 3 years in D.C. and a year in an ancient (beautiful) city without plant life, the contrast smacked my olfactory senses and made my jaunt all feel all too short. The birds serenaded me and bullfrogs welcomed me back with their guttoral greetings. I never realized how big the cars were or how many pickup trucks and SUV's people own around here, and how few motorcycles and scooters, until that first day. I couldn't help but jump a bit when a loud Harley passed me!

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At beer o'clock, Mom and I headed out to her new backyard swing and I told her more stories about Italy and my adventures. She regaled me with tales of her activities and drama in her circle of friends. I enjoyed a blueberry ale from my favorite place in Maine and then took a nap, awaking to a splendid dinner with real, Idaho russet baked potatoes (completely absent in Europe).

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The next day, I got to see ol' Hanover again and sample some of its best features. After an amazing breakfast at Perkins, a trip to the Hanover Shoe Farm brought coos from Mom and me as we watched newly born horses struggling to stand on their wobbly legs and cautious mothers staying close. One of the horses had been born that morning and was clearly exhausted from the process. It stood only long enough to drink some milk and then tried clumbsily to fold its long, lanky legs under itself -how the heck do I work?- to lay comfortably.

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After this, we went to Snyders to pick up some local snacky goodness, (it's hard to live in a land of amazing fresh snack foods and then try to eat old packaged salty things away from there... it does incentivize healthy eating though...) and then did a very bad thing. We went to the enormous Giant supermarket. (I refer to the PA Giant, not those silly MD/VA ones which just can't compare)

And we said "Yes" to each other to EVERYTHING the two of us wanted. Hungry 5 year olds couldn't have done better than us...

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We returned home just before a big storm hit with a car full of 3 kinds of ice cream, oreos, tastee kakes (holla at ya, PA!), 4 boxes of cereal (but two were very healthy, I swear!) hot dogs, veggie burgers, fresh breads, Pennsylvania apples (still the best I've tasted)- oh the list goes on! Plus, there was a Dunkin Donuts stop on the way home (it's not fair! They lure you with cheap coffee and then expose you to dozens of fresh goodies!). Looking at the counter after we had unloaded the car, we just laughed as we rushed to get the ice cream to safety.

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I took the most exquisite run as the thunder roared and lightning illuminated the darkened sky just as twilight made its appearance. The air added to its bouquet the fresh rain smell and the froggies were excitedly chirping for the inevitable shower. A light spritz and a gentle breeze made the temperature simply perfect for a jog.

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I spent the next day, after having french toast that I actually liked for the first time in my life (Mom is magical- made it with a croissant and cooked it perfectly so it was crusted on the outside and custardy on the inside) catching up with my Aunt, cousin, and 4th grade teacher, Mrs. Hash, who I had not seen since I was in her class. Mom and I planned to swim in Aunt Lydia's pool, one of my favorite places to hang out since I moved to Stewartstown (when I was 5), but the cool day wouldn't allow for anything more than dipping in toes followed by shrieks. It certainly wasn't too cold for double chocolate brownie ice cream in fresh Snyder's pretzel cones though.

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The next day consisted of a run, some light housework, and after 12:000, nothing else. Mom insisted I needed a few "couch days" to rest up before jettisioning off to Russia and I was happy to comply. Dad brought barbeque from Chubby's to ensure we could spend the whole day being lazy nad not have to worry about cooking dinner. I made my way down to the playground to swing a bit, but other than that, my butt, the chaise, and occasionally a adorable black cat were united for the whole day.

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Friday, Dad worked from home while Mom and I ventured out in a rainstorm to get mani-pedi's from her awesome Sicilian hairdresser who made me miss my former home as she spoke to me in Italian and I told stories of my trip. After getting my hair trimmed for the first time in almost two years, I felt lovely despite the grey soggy exterior of the salon. Mom and I emerged two unstoppably gorgeous creatures. The rest of the day was another trip down memory lane as we went to Hoss's, the source of both my high school and college revenue and my desire never to procreate, and then to the movies at the West Manchester Mall. The wing with the theater had its unmistakeable characteristics- hoards of teenage boys in ill-fitting clothing and cliques of girls in equally badly sized clothing, albeit the other direction, endless chatter from the ticket queue accompanied by the bells and chimes of the arcade, and the most unusual combination of smells eminating from pizza, popcorn, and soft pretzels from all the food stands in the vicinity. I think there is no better way to spend a rainy day than in a theater escaping to another world. This time we all went to the Smithsonian and the personified Abe Lincoln made me long to get back to D.C... soon enough!

The weekend whizzed by, full of family I had missed seeing for many months. The pause in the workweek was dedicated to celebrating the Golden wedding anniversary of my amazing grandparents. We began the fun when Dave and Gillian arrived at our home with Turtle and the human family members all packed into one car to meet the rest of Mom's family at Alfred's Victorian, a great 19th centruy mansion which has been impressing the greater Harrisburg area's residents with its culinary creations for many years. Mom's dinner came with a free cookbook, makikng me green with envy when it turned out to be full of stories and recipies from my beloved northern Italy!

*The happy couple*

The next morning, bright and early, we went to Grandma and Grumps' church for the 9:00 am service, during which I probably was condemmed to Hell for laughing the whole time thanks to Rae. the minister began the ceremony for my granparents. They recited traditional vowes and then read their own, brining tears to our eyes. It was amazing to see the love that flows so strongly between them fifty years after they first promised their lives and souls to one another. The small reception in the church basement was catered by the sweet UMC ladies and after our snack, we headed into the great outdoors for eight hundred million family photos. After spending some time at the grandparent's house just visiting and sampling some snickerdoodle wedding cake, we all headed home to spend the remainder of the evening pooped on the couch (with pizza!).

*Heather loves her big brother!*

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On Tuesday of the following week, Mom and I went to Roots and I got to see one of my favorite amish markets in full bloom under the bright sun. So many fruits and vegetables grown right on the farms down the street. And amish women can bake! Their goods are just unbelievable- the cakes, danishes, breads, cookies, etc. are simply fantastic, all made by hand from scratch, and so fresh. The air there smells of freshly baked sweets, in other parts of the market, you get overwhelmed by the aroma of fresh flowers or fruits, and in still other parts, you smell smoked meats. It really is an experience. Also present is lots of handmade woodwork furniture that never ceases to impress me given my inability to mold playdough into anything recognizable.

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We exited with special catnipt toys for Vinnie, who had begun sleeping on my bed again in the same spot he used to when we lived in D.C, stickybuns fresh from the oven, lots of fresh produce, just-squeezed lemonade, and of course some whoopie pies. Plus, I scored two pair of sunglasses and a watch for under twenty bucks.

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The evenings usually concluded with a family dinner. Mom made one of my altime favorite comfort foods- her meatballs- which, although I don't particularly like hamburger all that much, must be made with ambrosia because they always taste sooooo scrumptious. She used hamburger chopped just for her from a cow the folks had purchased. She used the same meat to make pattymelts one night that almost made me faint. Also we had grilled veggies all the time, grilled chicken with homemade bbq sauce, twice baked potatoes, salads, all the wonderful American foods that I can't really say I missed (c'mon, I was living in Italy!) until I tasted them and remembered how much I loved them :)

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The day before my departure to Russia, I finally got to spend some grossly overdue time with my old man. We took a motorcycle ride, fulfilling one of my fundamental wishes for my short visit home, and visited the Nissley Winery, sampling the creations and meeting the doggies. Afterwards, we had ice cream for lunch at the Jigger Shop. What's a Jigger? If you've never had one, well it's hard to describe the dessert that has about twice the sugar of even the most child-friendly treat and tastes every bit as sweet as it really is. From their website:

Jigger - "Our Specialty"Two and a half scoops of vanilla ice cream made with your choice of chocolate or butterscotch topping, whipped marshmallow and our secret touch... Jigger Nuts!

I really don't know what a "jigger nut" is, escept that it sounds kind of dirty and like an insult, but it is neither...

The frozen confection geniuses there freeze the ice cream in the sundae dishes so they are ready to go on the fly, and one can eat it as slowly as is necessary with something so overwhelming and it stays frozen until the last butterscotchy spoonful!

Me: Coffee! I need coffee!

Dad: Me too. Do you want anything in it.

Me: Black!!!!!!

I honestly believer you need a cup of bitter joe to make it through one of those sundaes. But we both conquered ours and then took a nice hike up to the Governor Dick (giggle) tower to take in the scenery. We then climbed the tower, and I got my ego handed to me as Dad beat me to the bottom. Any tower that provides 2 passageways so you can race is alright in my book! We then split some lovely, carb- free red wine (since one of us had used up his carbohydrate allowance for about a week on the aforementioned treat!) and chatted in the forest for a bit before heading home and spending the evening with Mom sharing our days and eating sushi.

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The next day passed in a blur as I quickly packed my bag and got ready to venture out again. Luckily, my bestie made it to the airport and I got to see her gorgeous face and hug my other half before venturing over the Iron Curtain. What adventures awaited me, I didn't know but I knew I would cherish the memories of all the family time and knew I was blessed to never have to question their support, no matter where this crazy life takes me... or I take it.