Ты неси меня река...

Another soundtrack post: 

The train creeps along the frozen Russian steppe. Peering through the window glistening with frost, I see a thick fog creeping at the base of the snow covered trees. I've gotten in the habit of picking a new book for each of my little trips and trying to finish it before the time is up. This time I was in a hurry and grabbed the first book on the 100 ruble shelf at Biblio Globus (a GIANT bookstore here that I love perusing)...this time it's the book Кому на руси жить хорошо (who lives well in Rus) by Nekrasov. Well, I think I bit off more than I can chew this time, it's poetry from the 19th century about the Russian peasantry. After about 100 pages I gave up, and started a conversation with the elderly gentleman sitting next to me, who ended up being much more interesting. Having moved to Siberia in the early 70's, Vladimir is a classic Russian muzhik with a barrel chest (and gut), gold teeth, and a handshake that tells of strength that was once there. This is his first trip outside of what is now Russia, so I help him fill out his border papers. 

Sometimes, if you stand on the bottom rail of a bridge and lean over to watch the river slipping slowly away beneath you, you will suddenly know everything there is to be known- Milne

3 am—the two smoke alarms in my apartment blink a second apart, and it’s driving me insane. I haven’t ever had insomnia before, but for the past few weeks I can’t seem to get more than 4-5 hours of sleep a night. I’m really not sure this existential crisis has surfaced now, but I can’t stop thinking of what I’ll do in 5 months once my program ends. I could end up in any number of cities, doing any number of things. For the purposes of this post though, this insomnia has taken me on a bit of an existentialist’s treasure hunt.

A while ago, when I was about to set off for Russia, my roommate Ben casually mentioned that I reminded him of Rabbit of Pooh’s Corner. He was referring to the book ‘The Tao of Pooh,’ and said I was bustling off here and there looking for something I thought would calm whatever fire under my feet that wouldn’t let me stand still. Well, late one night last week I finally decided to find out what Ben was talking about. The book has been delightful, and I think wise old Ben had some justification all those year-and-a-half ago. I won’t spoil the read for you, but it’s been a great self-reflection experience for this rabbit who’s trying to be clever for the sake of being clever.

Now I’d like to introduce you to my newest English student, Yasya. Her infectious happiness is at a peak when she’s playing with dolls, singing, playing the piano, practicing English and Chinese, or wrestling with her tiny dog, Liza. Yasya also happens to be blind. After every lesson, I am more amazed by this talented little girl, and I always walk into the freezing cold night smiling. I can’t help but think of her when I read Viktor Frankl’s, ‘Everything can be taken from a man but one thing, the last of the human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.’

Here’s for choosing a more relaxed attitude toward life. To believing that things just may work out if I let them. And more importantly, here’s to a full night’s sleep.

Sick Day

Almost like clockwork. It’s mid-winter, and I’ve caught a bad cold. It’s as if my body looks outside through the frostbitten windowpane and says, ‘you’re not going out there, not today my friend.’ My body and I have always been at odds when it comes to winter activities. I say, ‘ooo, cross country skiing!’ and my body says, ‘yeah, how about you sleep in till the sun comes up?’ It should come as no surprise that my body usually wins - after all, it is MY body…

In the end the bear dies, but at a time, I wanted it to be the woman behind the glass

Often it seems as though everyone in your immediate path collaborate to just screw with you - nothing serious, just mess with your day. This hasn’t been the absolute best week I can remember, though it’s not the worst. This week’s combination took the form of falling throughs, no Ukraine, cancelations, bureaucracy, and screaming middle-aged women. But don’t worry - this particular week has a happy ending, in a very manly way.

As an illustration of my week, today I had a 45 minute heated argument trying to leap the bureaucratic hurdles that pop up oh so often here. In my defense the woman behind the glass started yelling at me right away. I will draw upon the 'she started it' excuse to weasel my way out of guilt on this one. Anyway, the newest Russian skill I’ve acquired – yelling. Honestly, Russians often won’t take you seriously unless you’re yelling at them, which is really hard for me. I’m not perfect at it yet, so I came home from today's skirmish defeated. Lightly spoken, I was a bit flustered with Russia in general, particularly the venal state of its organizational bodies.

To add to all my woes, when I got home to make dinner, I realized I had forgotten to pick up any meat. However, this is where the paths of choosing, and letting life choose for you diverged. A voice inside me said, ‘No, I’m gonna kill the bear.’

…my friends, I killed that bear. 

I got the bear meat almost a year ago in Estonia, and totally forgot about it. But then life threatened to destroy me, or make me hungry during class tonight, and under the intense heat of the fire of life - I became magnificent…

 You may be thinking, ‘Wow, Bryce really is pretty magnificent.’ Good point. You also may be thinking, ‘Wow, that meat looks terrible.’ Another very valid point. I decided there may be a reason people don’t usually eat canned bear.

It’s nice when something as small as bear meat can completely change the outcome of the day, even when it tastes pretty terrible. 

Lazy Mornings: Real Life, Moscow

In November I began what I promised would be a series of short blips of my day-to-day goings-on, then got distracted. Well, this is me delivering on what I'm sure you've been dying to read. This entry has a soundtrack, so please sit back and enjoy old slow hands as I rap a tale (I can't really rap, I'm far too white - what I do is more like an episode of Mr. Roger's Neighborhood, without all the explicit language).

On Russian Hospitality and Hospitality in Russia

New Year's Day has come and gone, but the celebrations continue in Russia. On New Year's, I was invited to the house of my friends Vasya, Alyona, and Denis along with about 10 other people. I was in Russia last year, so I knew roughly what to expect...tons of fireworks, tons of food, and a euphoric atmosphere that just won't quit. It ended up being a 24 hour long Russian culture lesson. That's right, an entire day was dedicated to this party. I arrived at 6 pm on New Year's Eve (about an hour late) and got home at 6 pm on New Year's day. In the middle of all this, I fell asleep on their floor for a few hours, but for the most part was drunk on sleep exhaustion by the end of it. I was totally blown away at how much salad was there (and the whole time people were complaining there wasn't enough).