Rock Climbing in Дерново, a trip of firsts and agains

As we approached the small cluster of one-story brick houses, the first sight that caught my eye was a man in a Russian military striped shirt riding his pony. When we stopped at the only shop in town, I had to wait for a family of geese to cross the street in front of me...ну мы приехали в Русскую деревню. The shop woman was so friendly (something one should never expect here. It's not that they're all jerks, they just have a different approach to meeting people), and pointed the way to the cliffs. As we left, the man on his pony rode up, and tethered it to the handrail. The pony, unlike the shopkeeper, was truly Russian, and showed it's nationality by headbutting me.

After finding the cliffs and setting up camp, it was a matter of seconds before I was on the wall...making a fool of myself in front of a bunch of in-shape climbers after a long, long separation from this hobby. I have fallen very far in my climbing ability after about 7 months of not climbing...very far.

This was my first camping trip in Russia, and I was not disappointed. We had classic Russian food...sausage and canned meat on noodles with the options of ketchup or mayonnaise to spice it up. While that may sound disgusting to many of you, it tasted so appropriate on my first camping experience here. We camped under the cliffs in a field near the river that was covered in real grass, the kind you only get on golfing greens; the kind that you can run barefoot on...a rare commodity in Russia. The trip was a regeneration experience for me. On the drive to the town, someone asked me if I saw romance in the fields of Russia, and at the time I answered with a confused 'no.' However, on the way back, after having found a part of myself that I missed, I saw something like what he was talking about. It wasn't so much romance with a person as much as a strange attraction to a country that has sometimes strange quirks, but overall has grown on me.

Brain Fever

As pale sickness does invade your frailer part, the breaches made, in that fair lodging still more clear make the bright guest, your soul, appear. -Edmund Waller

I must have gone outside with wet hair, because I got sick a few days ago (that's how people get sick here, that or catching a draft of wind). Only, as usual, I decided to deny the fact that my body could succumb to something so petty as a virus or bacteria. So naturally, I went running and rock climbing...two days in a row. Before you condemn me as a complete idiot, remember that...no, go ahead, it's true.

The following hours became a blur of only semi-conscious attempts to calm the fire in my throat, and to warm my freezing body. Having a fever is so surreal. It's almost as if you're placed as an observer of life, instead of an active player. I felt completely unable to communicate any substantial thought. Instead, sleeping more than I thought was ever possible, I saw life going by through my sick eyes.

Finally, around 5 am on Easter Sunday (or Palm Sunday, depending on where you live) my fever broke. I was lying in bed absolutely drenched in sweat. It was such a relieving and sudden passing that I could hardly contain myself. Either my eyes were leaking wayward bodily fluids (just like every other facial orifice during my sickness), or I was weeping out of joy. In any case, I made it through the crucible.

Legends of the Hidden Temple - The Levitating Dog Leash of Nostradamus

My roommate, Wesley, turned me to this little treasure. First, let me break the video down for you...meet the dream team of competitive hidden temple exploration. Notice how the girl signals to her teammate where the pendant is, how the boy doesn't miss a step when assembling the silver monkey, uses the key to grab the rope over the pit of despair, and comes out triumphantly winning the cd player, the sports gear, and the trip to mexico. These are the people who are leading America today. Based on this video alone, I think we ought to rename my generation. No more of this generation y business...I'd like to suggest the title "greatest generation of all time," or "GGOAT"s. Many of you are surly thinking, "but isn't there already a greatest generation?" My response is that my greatest generation is a lot less racist, and also did you just see the video I posted? QED. The orange iguanas truly showed the true American spirit through their initiative, creativity, and ingenuity. Kudos you brave, brave children of the GGOAT.