Flying, continued

 I suppose I'd better finish my tale!

We made it to the hotel with all our baggage and family members, and tucked in for the night. I set my alarm for breakfast ahead of the 11 am checkout.

The kids slept in fairly late and we let them since there wouldn't be anywhere to put Sophia down for a nap preceding our 7 pm flight. I waited and waited and finally just went down to the lobby to get breakfast since we clearly weren't going to all be ready.

On the way up with the breakfast, I asked the concierge about the airport shuttle as far as the 11 am checkout. Well, the "last" shuttle was at 10 am. Until 4 pm. Huh. I couldn't quite wrap my head around that one...11 am checkout...shuttle until 10 am. It was too late for the shuttle, anyway. I headed back upstairs to finish packing.

We were downstairs and checking out by 11, and the hotel mistakenly put the charge on my debit card. Nope, DELTA will be covering that one! Luckily I caught it and got them to fix it. Meanwhile, they ordered a taxi for us.

From bits of conversation that I'd overhead, this hotel was a relatively new branch and they were still ironing out the kinks. We were certainly glad for accommodations.

We headed to the airport first (the cab driver was great) since we wouldn't be able to get far with all our suitcases. The terminal was a totally different scene this time. I first went and inquired about checking our luggage. There was no room where we could store them temporarily, but they could be dropped off up to 6 hours ahead of our flight.

Next I went to the machines and started checking in. I hadn't had a chance to try it at the hotel. As usual, I went through the whole procedure and got an error message. But in this case there was an actual agent standing there ready to help people who had questions. She took our passports and visas and checked them all and got us boarding passes. If there had been such an agent the day before, we could possibly have made our flight. Of course, it still took time and would have been more difficult at a busier time of day, but we were able to obtain information and results more easily.

We hung around until we could check our bags, and then we were free for a few hours. I had just connected with my second cousin, exactly my age, who lives in the area. She was still on summer break from teaching elementary school and cleared her schedule to hang out with us! After a little investigating, we found the public transportation pleasantly easy to use, and were meeting up with her at the aquarium in no time.

Flying by the seat of my pants

Have you ever missed a flight? Now I know what that feels like. Read on...

After spending a few weeks with my parents in the U.S, it was time to fly back to Russia. We had arranged with a transport company to be picked up 5 hours before our flight, leaving 3 hours for the 2 hour drive, arriving at least 2 hours before our flight.

It was our standard time to leave, but none of us checked the road conditions or had any idea that a MASSIVE construction project had been underway for the past few weeks. We certainly would have planned to leave earlier if we'd known! And the transport company definitely should have checked, too.

Still blissfully unaware of impending disaster...

Soon after we got underway, the driver checked his GPS and realized we needed to take a detour. So off we went on the scenic route. I figured our extra hour would help, but the situation was more serious than that! We were creeping along on country roads. When we finally neared the city (Boston), we hit bumper-to-bumper traffic. I was avoiding looking at the GPS, but I saw how it kept recalculating. We were "10 minutes away" for about an hour! It was definitely torture knowing we were that close, yet stuck in traffic. There was absolutely nothing we could do.

Probably the worst part of the whole ordeal was the feeling of suspense as we waited helplessly to see what would unfold. My mom and I were texting the whole time and she had a lot of people praying for us. I knew nothing bad would happen, but I still didn't want to be in this situation. Even if we were going to make our flight, I didn't want to deal with the intensity of rushing. "I don't want to be here! I don't want to deal with this, Lord. I just want it to be over!"

Hosting World Cup 2018 and other news

Haven't had a chance to write in weeks, and the World Cup has been in progress for a few weeks already. It's so cool being a host city! I've never been to the Olympics or any other large-scale sports competitions, so this is kind of a new experience.

World Cup welcome sign...
too crowded to take many photos

Although thousands of tourists hit St. Petersburg at this time of year, the demographic is totally different, of course. Instead of wealthy retirees or others simply on vacation, there are sports fans of all ages... not just from European/northern countries, but lots from the Middle East and Latin America, too. As you can imagine, that shakes up the cultural atmosphere just a little! It's so warm and friendly here. I love Russian culture, and have a cultural post coming up when I have the time. But all the people walking around smiling makes such a difference. Even the locals are admitting that despite the congestion and longer commute, the celebratory mood is contagious. It's hard not to smile when Brazilians and Egyptians are wandering around wrapped in their countries' flags. Hard to explain, but it's different from just the local soccer fans running around on a game night.

The city completed (or at least undertook) lots of various construction projects in preparation for this year's festivities. This year was also St. Petersburg's 315th anniversary. Public transportation is decked out in World Cup decor, there are banners everywhere, certain buildings have been restored, and two new metro stations have opened recently, with close proximity to the soccer stadium.

It's a great time of year to be in St. Petersburg: White Nights, soccer fans, and last Saturday was the annual "Scarlet Sails" celebration to honor high school graduates. Look it up to learn more! I've never attended, but various parts of downtown such as Palace Square are closed off to the public, and those with tickets get to attend a concert and gather on the bank of the Neva to see fireworks and the actual scarlet sails along the river. No alcohol is sold on that night...though I'm sure some people plan ahead!

Of course, there is always a downside to large events.

Bureaucracy about town

I had to go to my bank here to get a statement. My friend lives near that metro, and I had letters for her, so it seemed like I could combine the errands. The only problem of course being that I couldn't leave Sophia for too long.

It was my first time traveling that far within the city since May or so. Six months! I was nervous about how I'd hold up physically. I guess I didn't go anywhere without David for a long time, but we did go as a family to church and elsewhere. In fact, as I left today, a friend from church was on his way over to fix David's old stroller for Sophia!

I felt okay physically and it was good to be out in the world...a little bit of culture shock and a little bit of post-partum shock, or whatever you call it when you're doing the same old things, but as a different person.

I met up with my friend and we headed over to a cafe to sit for a few minutes. As we walked in, the guy making crepes (blini) was a kid (now grown) that I'd known in the orphanage. I started talking to him until I realized he was working on an order. They had changed the cafe around and I felt a bit discombobulated and had trouble ordering "Earl Grey" with the right Russian pronunciation. I remember those old days trying to order McDonald's and drawing out all those words, Beeeg Mahhhhk, Kyehhhchup so that the servers would understand.

We only stayed for a little while as I was nervous about getting to the bank. My friend came with me since she had the day off. While waiting in line, I looked through my paperwork and felt so confused about the dates. My latest papers said "2015," but when was that? Last year? And I hadn't been back to this bank since last June? What had happened in the meantime? Had I skipped a year of government inspection? I had a translation of my latest bank statement, so I must have used it for going to the UK. Was that last year?

The clerk called me over and had a form for me to fill out. Incidentally, for the IRS, which meant I had to fill out all my info. in English. Doesn't sound complicated, but it's really hard for me now to write out Russian words in the Latin alphabet. It's like trying to pat your head and rub your stomach at the same time. At one point I did switch alphabets, but didn't get chastised.

After muddling through the documentation, I was told to come back the next day...ah, well. My friend and I said goodbye and I headed back to the metro.

Back home, our friend was still fixing the stroller. Then he and Andrei left together as Andrei headed out for a radio gig.

I need to mail off my documents to the immigration bureau and then my reward will be to get going with Advent.

French fries in Finland

This post turned out rather long, definitely don't have time for this every day! However, check out my IG feed for frequent snapshots.

David and I (and the other concerned family members) can check this year's border run off our to-do list...whew. Until we figure out if we're going to get permanent residency for him, the 3 yr visa requires him to leave the country every 6 months. Or rather, he's supposed to be just coming for 6 month visits, but he's allowed right back in.

The search feature on Blogspot isn't always the best, so here and here and here are previous border runs with David, and here is one of my own from way back in 2008. Oh yeah, and wayyy back in 2007, one of my first blog posts was about visiting Estonia.

Sometimes we try to make a little trip out of going to Finland, but for the past few years we have found that it isn't very relaxing for all the effort we put in. Plus, it tends to fall between February-April, not the nicest months for exploring any northern countries.

This time, I decided as an alternative method to ask another missionary friend of mine to go with me and David, instead of going through the visa process with Andrei to get into any Schengen countries. My friend has Canadian citizenship, so it would be easy for her to go, and we were counting on that.

Unfortunately, my friend had to rush to Canada due to a family emergency, right before our trip! We were already planning to go on the last day of David's registration, so there was nothing we could really reschedule, and as usual, it was too late to get Andrei a visa, so David and I were going to be on our own. It took some effort to get tickets, as well. I found conflicting information on various websites, and had trouble entering David's birthdate. So Andrei had to make a special trip to the train station to get the tickets, but it ended up being a lot cheaper than via the tourist agencies!

I had planned everything out to end up with an optimal schedule. I always remind myself of this when it appears as though we're completely disorganized. The good intentions were always there! In this case, I picked a later morning departure and then a train back that would have us home for bedtime. We chose a town just 2 hours away, to make for easy travel.

David woke up on his own just in time to get dressed and leave for the train. We were making good time, nothing to panic about. He did start melting down though when he realized Andrei wasn't going with us. David has been having a lot of separation anxiety lately and goodbyes can take a long time. I think today and possibly yesterday were the calmest he's been in a while about Andrei leaving for work and such, but if any part of the goodbye ritual is omitted, he gets quite upset (if so-and-so didn't wave the right way, etc.). He asks for me at bedtime after wanting Andrei and/or Babushka all day! Anyway, I had to take out our emergency toy in order to distract him so that we could say goodbye to Andrei at the train station.

Watching loads and loads of birch logs go by!

Planning a "destination" family reunion

Behind the scenes of our most recent getaway..

Getting the cousins organized...

Family reunions are sometimes hosted by family members, perhaps over a holiday weekend. Other families might have a time-share, like a beach house that they visit every year. But every once in a while, it's fun to plan something a little more ambitious.

My siblings and I are scattered across the globe at varying distances from each other and our parents. I guess it's fair to say that there are a higher concentration on the East Coast, but then again Florida is pretty far from Massachusetts. Suffice it to say that any gathering is going to mean traveling a long way for at least a few people. So, might as well try out different rendezvous points, right?

We started bouncing around the idea of a trip to the UK for my dad's 70th birthday. It's his ancestral home, and truth be told, I was excited to be going somewhere LESS than 5 hours away by plane (sorry, everyone else). So the decision was made to get 22 people (15 adults and 7 children) over to Scotland.

Here are some notes from trip planning:

1) Planning the planning

In a large group, you will inevitably have planners and non-planners, leaders and followers, etc. You will have people who never read emails, and those who read and respond multiple times per day.

If you are going somewhere where you will be participating in any sort of sightseeing or cultural programs, you need to think about how you are going to organize everyone. It's not fun for negotiations to take up precious time that could be spent together...though that is part of being in a family. Everyone needs to eat at least 3x per day, and children (and some adults) will need naps. I don't know of the best universal approach, but we did fairly well considering all the logistics.

When everyone is from out-of-town and no one is necessarily familiar to the area, some extra research will be required.

Bagpipe concert was first on everyone's list, right?

Thinking Cap

I had a busy week, but there was something different about the intensity. It was one of those times when it felt like my problem-solving skills had to be on constant alert! I used to have these kinds of adventures all the time, especially when first living in Russia, or during seasons when I would be commuting to all different parts of St. Petersburg each day of the week. Times when you have to be thinking, thinking, thinking. Like when it would take me an eternity to find someone's home; the public transportation route, street name, building number, entryway, apartment number, floor, and door code all in my head or scribbled on one or more scraps of paper.

That was the kind of week I had, including a meltdown halfway through! But it's not meant to be a complaining post, and/or bragging about how "busy" I've been. Just doing some reflecting about some experiences, and thinking about why I might have felt overwhelmed.



Last Friday

-Commenced making a cake for an event, using a new recipe. Failed twice (complete inedible disaster), then ran out of time.
-Was called into the bank to "fill out a form." Didn't understand what/why or how to fill it out. And the bank employee didn't either. Left feeling confused.
-Headed over to worship practice for the first time in the new building, but didn't know where to go! After waiting around for about 10 minutes, received a call from the worship leader, who came out and led me to the new room.
-Got home around 11pm, found a new cake recipe, and finally had success, though I had to calculate carefully since I had very few ingredients left at that point!



Saturday

-Got up early to get ready for the church baby shower: presents and cake all packed up; had to figure out how to stop along the way for fresh strawberries and some other last-minute ingredients; took the metro and then a tram and then circled the buildings looking for the hostess' apartment...
-After arriving, got all the cake layers assembled/frosted/decorated/etc....whew.

Long story...

Of tea parties and pickpockets

For the past few weeks, my Canadian friend Sabrina had been talking about having a picnic. She had found a good spot and Andrei was going to visit the doctor nearby, so it started to look like it might work out to travel there together. Then the weather got a little windy and Andrei was leaving earlier anyway, so I decided to attempt a field trip to Sabrina's flat with David instead.


Of course it's hard to schedule anything since D's sleep schedule varies. On that particular day, he woke up an hour earlier than usual....which meant we really needed to get out of the house sooner in order to fit in a visit before naptime. Thankfully, that was okay with Sabrina.

It wasn't too hard to get David ready since he was so excited once I told him we were going out for a visit. Andrei had already left, so David and I rode the tram by ourselves, and then headed over to the metro. David was intrigued by the people who stand around handing out advertisements. He figured he should utilize this service. He went right up to a woman with a megaphone advertising a driving school, and was just so tickled that she gave him a flyer! He took care of his flyers very well.

As soon as we were in the metro, I texted both Andrei and Sabrina to let them know we were on our way.

It wasn't a very crowded time to ride the metro, and David sat calmly in his seat for the whole ride while I stood right in front of him. When we were passing through the center of town, I looked at the time to see how long the journey took. Then I put my phone back in my pocket.

And thought: I wonder who just watched me put my phone back in my pocket.

Which is funny, because I ALWAYS keep my phone in my pocket. In the winter I usually have buttoned or zippered pockets, or at the very least I keep my hand in my pocket, curled around my phone. When entering a crowd, I hold everything close. I have never, ever been robbed.

How we almost didn't see Helsinki

Background: D. has a visa that lets him stay in Russia for 6 months at a time, and then he has to leave and come back again. So we usually have to do a border crossing trip in the winter and then in the summer we are traveling anyway. For one trip we went to Kiev as none of us needed a visa to visit Ukraine. But that isn't an option anymore, so Finland is the most convenient destination!


Running to the train....

If we could make the first metro departure in the morning (something like 5:36 am), that would give us enough time to make our 6:40 train. I remembered being in a rush last year, and that was stressful. This time we were doing fine, but then in a moment of indecision decided not to get on the first metro car, which meant waiting several minutes for the next one, which made it seem like we were going to be late. After a nail-biting commute, we were at the departure gate, and then there was another pause as we tried to figure out how to get the door to open to get on the train, being the last passengers. Whew.

Andrei had booked us seats in the children's car which includes a play area. It was nice being right there as I remembered finding it hard walking between there and another car while on the bumpy ride. David attempted to play with some other children, but they were older and a little rough. But it was still nice that he could get a little exercise.

Peek-a-boo from inside the space rocket!

Amherst anniversary

Andrei and I celebrated 3 years of marriage yesterday! Life has definitely changed a lot, especially thanks to a certain little person.

For a fun "adventure," we took the bus into nearby Amherst, MA. It is actually a lot like my hometown, similar enough that I never go there, which at the same time means I've barely explored it at all.

Since we don't drive, we decided to use public transportation. In St. Petersburg there are a multitude of transportation options and they come every 10-20 minutes (more or less). And in this case it was one bus that came once an hour, though that might be just the summer schedule. Anyway, while we like public transportation, we would have to be pretty organized to use it around here, in order to be at the bus stop on the hour. When we were ready to go back we had just missed a bus, so had to wait about 40 minutes, and then the trip back took about 90 minutes. We didn't mind because we are used to a commute, and it was pretty comfortable to be able to just sit and read (or nap in one person's case) while in traffic. In St. Petersburg there aren't usually seats available, especially during rush hour, so it can be pretty tiring.

After lunch at a "Mediterranean" place, we explored a local bookstore and even made a few purchases. It is nice to support a local business even though I mostly read on my Kindle. And it earned Andrei's seal of approval. :) It was fun to be in a college town again after living in a big city where everything is so impersonal and spread out. Sometimes I miss the small town "character," if you know what I mean.

We still have some more adventures up our sleeve, even being halfway through our summer travels.

Seeking brothers and sisters

I was contacted at one point by a woman who visits the same group of invalids with whom I am acquainted. It was great to make a connection that had the potential for future collaboration.

So we became "friends" via social networking, and started to correspond, though never meeting in person. I was encouraged to see the work she's been doing.

Except for this one tiny detail...

...She's Russian Orthodox.

And you know, she might have even been there before when we visited. I kind of might have avoided getting acquainted.

Maybe I'm going to lose a few friends for even admitting this, but I'm not very good at mixing (in a religious context) with people of other confessions (that is, non-Protestants). In 10 years of life in Russia I still kind of shy away from deep relationships with Orthodox believers. There are certain topics that we have to avoid. And I realize that some of it is tradition and not really doctrine/belief, but it just feels like it comes between us sometimes. I'm not talking about casual friendship, or even good friendships with Russians who are nominally Orthodox, but when it comes to really partnering in the Gospel...is it possible? And if so, how?

Today I happened to see some caustic comments written by someone who is against adoption of Russian kids by foreigners. Thank GOODNESS Americans aren't allowed to do it right now, they added. My heart didn't respond very graciously and my fingers might have typed a few spirited comments of my own.

I was reminded that, to the rest of the world, we Americans don't do a very good job of minding our own business. And missionaries may or may not be the worst of the lot...we just don't give up, do we?

Unfortunately, politics do play a role in these issues. And I realize it partly bothers me because I am letting it. Perhaps I am too quick to take offense.

But this woman, the church worker...I saw what she wrote on her own page. Help the kittens, Help the invalids,...Laugh at America. And my heart seized up and I felt like a hypocrite writing to her cheerfully about field trips and birthday presents and massage therapy.

I went to bed last night pondering this problem. And when I was traveling home from church today, I saw her through the window of the metro car before the doors even opened. I knew this church worker instantly from her profile picture. In a city of 5 million, God sent her to my metro car to meet in person. It was unplanned, you see...in fact, I think I scared her half to death as I darted from my seat and blurted out her name. "It's Elizabeth," I said. "We've been corresponding..."

A Russian bus ride

We rode out to Andrei's parents' neighborhood today to look at a piece of furniture...come to find out, they were closed for inventory, oh well! :(

So Andrei and Vladimir and I got on the bus to go back to our place. It was the same route as coming but this bus was in worse shape; seat covers all ripped up and metal flooring exposed and rusting and you could feel every bump as we rode along.

We boarded the bus in the front and then shuffled to the back where there were seats. It was a true balancing act, like walking down a plane aisle during turbulence.

On our way to the back of the bus, we passed a man who was clearly not doing well. His face was pallid and a woman was patting him with a handkerchief. We asked if they needed help and it sounded like he was having heart trouble. On we bumped. One person offered some pills, but he'd already taken something.

We sat there praying silently and I wondered why the day was going so strangely and what the missing piece would turn out to be, and at that moment I looked over and saw a sticker on the window that had dried and cracked into hundreds of pieces in the sun.

We turned the corner and pulled over and a man (the driver, it turned out) came over to the ailing gentleman, and spoke in an accent, and gave him some water to drink. Then we rode on.

Why do people have to live in these conditions? Why does a sick person have to ride a bumpy bus?

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

The next thing that happened after a few stops was that a worker of some sort got on, wielding a huge panel of wire mesh glass that he held with gloves. He rode, standing up on the bumpy bus, with this piece of glass.

Eventually we got off at our stop, after making sure the sick man would be attended to.

And went home and had ice cream. That's it, no more surprises...turned out to be a regular day after all.

Another 6 months later

We rose in the 4 a.m. darkness, got all bundled up, and set off on foot, baby and suitcase in tow.

It reminded me of another scene...the one where we were trying to leave Estonia for Russia. But there was no snowstorm this time, and we were trying to get OUT of Russia. David's 6-month registration was up.

We were Finland-bound.

One ticket to Helsinki, please!

We'd had some tentative offers to go by car, but when nothing worked out, it seemed more and more likely that the train was the right option for us. It certainly has many features that make it easier to travel with a child. You can move about (except when passports are being checked) freely. Children do not have to be restrained in a carseat. There are no traffic jams. The bathroom facilities are always available. The border officers come onboard to check documents, which saves time and also means less putting on/taking off of winter garments.

We took the hi-speed "Allegro" train from St. Petersburg to Helsinki, which takes 3.5 hours. I do have to say that I experienced some motion sickness, which I don't remember from previous train journeys. Maybe it was the speed? Or the terrain? It wasn't too bad, though. It was just hard trying to walk up and down with David because it sort of threw my balance off and contributed to motion sickness.

We took the early morning train, which was nice and quiet. We were exhausted, but at least we had a whole day to spend in Helsinki and it wasn't wasted on the train.

David didn't sleep much on the way there, so that meant we could all crash and take naps once we arrived. The hotel got our room ready early in anticipation of our morning arrival, which was another blessing.

There is never enough time to do everything! I half-joked to Andrei that we were going to spend the time catching up on our sleep from the night before.

We headed to explore the bookstore first and got a few Moomintroll books as a remembrance of our trip.

After that we were ready for lunch/dinner and headed to a Japanese restaurant. The night was young, but we were tired. I was hoping to fit in some evening tea somewhere, but David fell asleep on the way back to the hotel. It was not even 7pm and he usually goes to bed at 10. It was almost 9pm in Russia, though. So much for our evening in Helsinki!

I decided to go to bed too, but then David woke up and continued to wake up several times throughout the night. So much for the comfy king-sized bed!

The breakfast buffet in the morning was delicious, and then we checked out and headed over to the Contemporary Art Museum. David was asleep again-apparently on Russian time, as it was only about 12 noon local time. So much for a nap in the train!

David missing a cultural experience

Our train ride back was pretty smooth despite David's rejected attempts to make friends with a rowdy group of Swedes. He still managed to flirt with one of our neighbors, and Andrei later rocked him to sleep for a pre-arrival nap.

Now we need to get David registered again for 6 more months. In the summer we'll probably make a trip to the U.S., and next February or March we'll be looking to take another registration trip. Ukraine doesn't look likely and we've done Finland and Estonia, so maybe we'll look for a new destination.

Being in Finland brought up temptation towards materialism. I don't think it would feel that way if I hadn't lived in a poorer country. I feel the sort of hoarding tendencies rise up...we don't have that in Russia, so I should buy it, right? So many beautiful, high quality products. So many elevators for stroller navigation. A tram that moves so smoothly that it is almost noiseless as it moves across the tracks. Northern country and new language aside, I almost wanted to live there, after being in Russia. Yes, we "dream" of getting out of here sometimes. But I know these things are part illusion. There is no ideal place to live. And we have a Divine Trip Planner-He knows where we need to be.

Proof I was at a museum!

Walking Culture

How do I put this into words? One of the more common traditions I've encountered here and NOT in the U.S. is that of taking the baby outside on walks.

Here's what I was used to: I grew up in a neighborhood where we could play out in the backyard, or even on the street or wander over to a friend's house. Going to a public playground didn't happen very often. Family "walks" were for Sunday afternoons. My mom took walks on her own. I don't recall anyone ever worrying that we weren't going outside enough. But if we needed exercise, out we went.

Enter Russian culture-and, probably, other cultures.

First I would hear a few mothers talking about how their babies behaved on walks; about how their prams were holding up; about what time they took their 1st and 2nd (or even 3rd) walks of the day. I might see a Russian mother or grandmother or father or grandfather strolling along with the carriage and think...they don't seem to be in a big hurry. It seemed to be something parents discussed as readily as feeding/sleeping...how is the strolling going?

I suppose one difference is that in the U.S., the stroller is a form of transportation. It's for taking the baby WITH you when you go to the store, to pick up other kids from school, to get to your gate at the airport, etc. We just don't have that perambulating culture.

But it IS important here (I wonder about other big cities?), and with the tradition come certain conditions, like:

-the baby has to be bundled up very appropriately, and shielded from all sorts of weather
-the baby should be walked outside from birth, for 2-3 hours a day, preferably twice a day
-the baby shouldn't cry or yell in cold weather because he could catch a cold/get a throat infection, so pacifiers must be on hand
-the baby should be turned towards any sun rays in order to get Vitamin D, though not in such a way as to get sunburned, of course

Andrei and I were so excited to finally tell the pediatrician that we've been taking David out every day, reaching the minimum. Guess what the pediatrician said? At this point we should be taking him out for 5-6 hours a day. Sigh.

No one will look at you funny for going to extreme measures to get those walks in. There are lots of playgrounds around, with benches. People who know about child-rearing will often tell their companions to hush if they walk by and David happens to be taking a snooze. That always amazes me, that people can't stop their public drinking or keep themselves from smoking in stairwells and elevators, but they will respect a sleeping baby.

You know, the walking ritual may take a lot of time, but it has clear health benefits...even in a city, where "fresh air" might not feel as invigorating as out in the country. And it can definitely be a pain to do the whole routine (twice a day, at that) and get the monstrous carriage (though now we have a lighter one) outside. Still, both mothers and babies can benefit. It certainly might have helped me feel better in the early days, though it was so hard to make myself go outside in the dreary, cold weather. I wonder how Russian mothers cope postpartum, in general?

I am trying to think of a similar obsession in American culture, but it's hard to think of something to compare. There are many types of gear that we are obsessed with, and things like sleep training.

Incidentally, when I was in Estonia last fall and David was just a few months old, I saw people simply PARK the stroller outside their window. The parents were inside and the babies were outside!

From the kitchen window

I love looking out my kitchen window and watching the people go by. Maybe I should start a new blog devoted to the things I notice daily! :)

I love seeing the family interactions and the dogs loping along; everyone enjoying the snow.

But not everything that goes by is so cheery. Today I watched a frail, elderly woman inching along-in fact, I see a lot of people limping. This woman had one cane in each hand, and was moving along so very precariously. She wasn’t even really leaning on the canes, so I wasn’t sure if she was trying to do without, or if they weren’t working well in the snow, or what. There was also a little shopping bag dangling down, as though she was trying to make it to the store (almost wrote “magazine,” silly language switching). Can you imagine making this epic journey each time you needed a grocery item?

At one point while back in the U.S., I watched a show called "Little People" about people with dwarfism. They talked about what it was like to live in a a world designed for people of "normal" height. Imagine having everything be too tall and too high up for you.

I'm not saying it negates all those consequences, but....those people get a TV show. Here in Russia, you don't exactly get rewarded for having trouble getting around. You might get an "invalid" card that entitles you to something, I'm not sure what. In fact, I heard recently that all "invalids" need to confirm their status regularly, and that's even if they're amputees.

There are very few handicapped-accessible establishments in St. Petersburg. Okay, there are a few ramps. But often at the top and/or bottom of a ramp is a heavy door that is hard for a regular person (well, me) to open…let alone someone with a stroller or on crutches, etc. Either that or the ramp ends just a few inches from a wall, so there isn’t really a turning radius.

This has been relevant to us recently because of needing to use a rather hefty baby carriage to go anywhere with David. Not only can I not get OUT of our building on my own (flight of stairs plus two doors, one fairly heavy)….there are also two flights of stairs UP to the grocery store. (I’ve attempted it with David in a frontpack and it’s sort of manageable except for not being able to bend down and get things on the bottom shelf).

In trams and buses, there is sometimes a little nook where you're supposed to be able to stand with a stroller or cart, but people often ignore the signs and don't move to make room. It's the people who have kids themselves that usually make an effort...just like I can sympathize with pregnant women now, in the metro. And it was usually the middle-aged women who'd been raising children recently that would help me out. I still get kind of emotional now seeing pregnant women on public transportation. I remember those days, hanging on to the handrails for dear life, as the loudspeaker announced at every stop, "seats are reserved for pregnant women, the sick and elderly, and passengers with children." And my cheeks would burn with humiliation as I heard the words "pregnant women," yet all the seats were occupied by people with other things on their minds. Yep, so now I can sympathize with them, and I'm especially grateful whenever someone lends us a hand.

On a fun note: Recently I noticed a sign that Andrei had to explain for me. It said something to the effect of, “Pedestrian-accessible store.” I couldn’t figure out why they would need to put that sign up since I couldn’t picture a store that you couldn’t enter by using your own two feet, if you have them. Well, it turns out that some years ago there was a call to build more grocery stores in residential areas-ones you could get to without crossing a busy intersection, etc. And such stores put up a sign to show that they had followed orders. It is nice to have stores within walking distance, I admit.

To get back to the story, I watched this woman struggling along, and wished I could throw on my winter clothing in a flash and skip waiting the 10 minutes for the elevator to come to the 7th floor and hop down there and help her to wherever she needed to go. We talk of doing good deeds, like “helping an old lady across the street.” Well, sometimes it is a real need!

My Good Samaritans

So, I had a little episode in the metro the other day.... let's just say I wasn't really ready to be taking public transportation again after being sick.

Cut to the passersby stopping to see if I was okay. There was a nicely dressed middle-aged woman, and a couple of homeless (!) guys (or druggies or whatever...sorry to be overgeneralizing, but just the kind of person you would normally see passed out or stumbling along).

We found a place to sit down and I lost a little of my breakfast and I thought, God sent me the perfect helpers: a mother, with a nurturing spirit, and two young men who are not freaked out at all by this type of thing. Strange, but true.

I had left for work that morning with a great sense of peace that God was watching over me.

Once the two guys saw I was going to be okay, they said goodbye. "Here's your stuff," said one of them. I hadn't even realized that I had handed over my belongings to a total stranger.

The lady gave me a sweet Clementine to eat, so juicy and refreshing. Then we walked down the stairs and went our separate ways.

I'm humbled every time I think back to how they stopped and helped me. How many times have I walked right by someone in need? How many times have I turned away for someone who looked dirty or disheveled? But they didn't pass ME by.

Meanwhile, back in Massachusetts...

Well, I got my Christmas miracle...

That is, I made it home in the midst of snowstorms in Europe and before the snowstorm hit here (not that either of them were huge, but they certainly affected air travel).

After a long journey, I was paged at the baggage claim to let me know that my baggage was still in Paris. But on Christmas morning the AirFrance guy showed up with my suitcase, just in time for me to wrap my gifts!

We'll see what happens next week when I try to fly out of here...

Adjusting expectations

I should have been on a plane last night instead of in my bed in St. Petersburg!

But...I was glad to not be stranded in an airport somewhere.

It all started with the snow in Europe. As usual, I didn't pay much attention until I realized that it might affect me personally.

The timetable didn't show any changes, but when I got all the way through security and up to the check-in desk...2 hr delay. Okay, I'll deal with it. Then they asked if I was sure I wanted to check my bags all the way through. Were things THAT bad?

I weighed the consequences: a) get stuck in London for a few days with no change of clothes or b) have to lug my suitcase around everywhere and possibly recheck it during my increasingly short layover.

I decided I would rather be grubby and just buy whatever essentials I'd need if I got stuck. Computer cable+Kindle recharger in my suitcase could spell potential boredom and frustration if lost, but I just did not need my carry-on to be any heavier than it was.

Next stop: passport control. A very strange experience, this time around. read more/-

The ladies doing inspection are usually cold and serious, but not rude. I'm not sure what I did wrong, but this particular officer was not happy with me.

I stepped into the booth and slid my passport across the counter, with my boarding pass, migration card, and exit visa tucked neatly inside.

She GLARED at me. I stared back, waiting for instructions.

"Passport. Boarding pass. Migration card."

I took them out and lined them up on the counter, in that order, plus my exit visa. There was no way anything was missing or out of order.

She glared again and then finally took them and starting inspecting everything. Boy, was I glad to get out of that chamber!

I'm still stumped as to what the problem was. The way I said hello? The fact that I was wearing glasses? The wrong counter?

3 hours until boarding. Ugh. I stalled by sitting for a bit, then getting a snack, then taking a snooze near the boarding area, with my alarm on so I wouldn't miss boarding. I pondered how much I hate traveling alone and wished for a companion.



I woke up and the marquee now said "Frankfurt" instead of "London." I scouted around, found the new boarding area, and started to hover.

Why weren't we boarding yet?

Finally some representatives came out and told us the flight was cancelled. Everyone was hovering around with shouts of dismay and panic. I listened to the Russian and English exchanges at the same time, trying to hear where we could rebook our reservations so I could bolt over and get in line.

After it was clear nothing could be done that day, I headed back downstairs to do everything in reverse. First stop: passport control.

This was my favorite part: a guy writing "void" on my exit stamp with a ballpoint pen. He ignored my visa and I had to remind him that there was a stamp there, too.

Next, I got my luggage back.

Then I sat down to think about how to get home. It was so close, but heels+snow+suitcase meant that I probably needed someone to pick me up. 4-5 phone calls later, a friend was on his way.

Sort of. He had a few other stops to make, so I ended up waiting about 90 minutes. I stationed myself near the other passengers on my flight who were still asking questions. Maybe I would hear something useful. The closest I got was that we could call the next day after 11am.

It was interesting to observe how strangers bonded in this situation. Russians aren't particularly known for being friendly to strangers, but in this case I think that the "we vs. them" was the people/passengers vs. the airline. We must unite to demand action! Of course the "crisis" scenario added to the need for bonding, and before leaving I noticed a few Russians exchanging phone numbers and first names.

Meanwhile, there was a mother sitting with a number of children close in age. They weren't Russian; the discipline style (or lack thereof) was different. Maybe immigrants or refugees, or maybe just tourists. They were running around, so it took me awhile to figure out that there were four. I know it's rude to stare, but I love watching siblings interact. It looked like they were having a fun childhood. And the mom was brave for traveling alone.

A British woman had been prancing about in a fashionable outfit, commenting loudly on various topics (even before the flight got canceled). Now she broke away from her traveling companions to approach the children. "You're beautiful. You're all SO beautiful."

Weirdo, they might not even speak English, I thought.

Then a smile broke across the mother's face and she said something in reply.

"He's the little man, isn't he?" the British woman asked, gesturing to the oldest boy. The mother answered affirmatively. I was glad for her that someone was giving her positive feedback about her family.

Airports are interesting places...


Seven hours after I left, my friend was carrying my suitcase up to the fourth floor for me just as my mom was calling to suggest some alternate flight options.

So I have a new flight out on Thursday. Getting close to Christmas, but maybe travel conditions will be better by then.

Scary

The conversation topic was "fear," and I was the only one in class, with a substitute teacher. She wanted to talk about the train crash.

The teacher knew I was a Christian since we had talked about Christmas the day before. She asked me what I thought about the role God played in such tragedies. Somehow we got to talking about predestination, and I realized that I am not very good at explaining it in Russian.

The next time we had class, our regular teacher was back. She asked us about our childhood fears and then each of us had to tell about a scary situation that had happened to us.

My incident took place a few years ago, but before I started blogging... read/-

I was going home from one of our first worship team practices that had lasted about 4 hours. It was late. The subway train stopped one station before mine, and there was an announcement that it would go no further. Since it was around midnight, I thought maybe it was the last train, and decided to exit the metro and get on a trolley, which would go straight to my house.

When I exited the metro, I saw the trolleys all tucked in for the night, and I realized that there weren't going to be any more. I thought about hopping on a route taxi, but as I looked down the street, I saw that instead of picking up passengers, they too were all turning into a parking lot. It was too late.

In Russia it is more standard to hitch-hike than in the States. But I had never done it on my own. Even though people do it all the time, I wasn't sure what would happen to me as a foreigner if I tried to hail a car. At the very least, they might charge me more money. It seemed safer at the time to continue down the dark road by myself, on foot.

That was before I came upon the cemetery. It was along the road in a wooded area. There was no one else on foot walking around, and the cars were coming along every few minutes. Sometimes they would slow down as they neared me. I was, essentially, alone in the woods, walking by a cemetery.

I can honestly say that I wasn't really scared, but it was one of those situations where I had to ask myself, "how did I get into this mess?" Otherwise known as "if my friends back home could see me now..."

After the 10-15 minute walk through the "woods," I reached a better-lighted intersection that I actually recognized. In fact, my friends lived in the building on the corner. I could have stopped by, but they were probably sleeping, and I wasn't really in trouble.

Down the block, I could see the metro station that I was SUPPOSED to be at. But the trolley wasn't running there either. I passed the metro and walked the rest of the way home.

I got home sometime after 1 am. No one was waiting or knew that I got home late, so it was rather anti-climactic. But all's well that ends well!

Epilogue: I later learned that my friends had actually called to make sure I got home alright. Only they got mixed up and called my friend Lida, who was home asleep in her own bed. "Did you get home alright?" they asked. "Yes," she answered. They wondered what was wrong with my voice, and she thought it was awfully nice of them to check on her.

The day I accidentally paid a bribe

This happened a long time ago, but I was reminded of it again recently.

It was my first year living in St. Petersburg. My friend (also American) and I were riding the bus. As usual I flashed my all-purpose paper bus pass at the conductor. In those days, the conductor didn't have an electronic wand to check passes. But sometimes a "controller" would get on the bus with an instrument that he could use to scan your documents and take disciplinary action if necessary.

I obediently showed him my paper pass.

"Blah blah blah" he said. I guess my Russian wasn't very good at that time.

"Show him your electronic card," my friend said. I took out my electronic metro pass that accompanies the bus pass. +/-

"Blah blah blah." Apparently there was a problem. I finally understood from my friend that I was supposed to have (handwritten) the number of the electronic card on my paper bus pass, so that they would know that I had paid for them at the same time. I suppose the electronic one could have expired. But then how would I have obtained the paper one, since it said the name of the current month? Anyway, I had been buying this pass for months, all the while oblivious to this special rule.

The controller was yelling at me now and asking me to get off the bus and do something. I looked up and saw a sign that said there was a 100-ruble fine for unpaid fare. I shoved 100 rubles at him and got off the bus, since we were at my stop.

"Liz, you just bribed him," my friend said.

Did I? I didn't mean to.