Prisoner in Serebryany Bor

I may not be able to speak Russian, but I do know how to unlock a door. Or at least I thought I did…

The problem with learning a language is that no matter how long you’ve studied it, when you get down with the natives, you feel completely incompetent. And let’s face it, you are. And when I say you, I’m talking about myself. But thanks for keeping me company.

The problem with feeling incompetent all the time is that it starts messing with your head.

Yesterday was my first day at the theater. Not actually working, but sorting out my contract, getting the grand tour, and then waiting on a couple of my colleagues to help me heft my bags through the metro to my new place of residence. Permanent place of residence, I might add. Most of the day was spent in Russian, and despite the horrific sense of inadequacy which Russian brings to my heart, I was at least able to keep up with the conversation. Successfully followed the meeting on my contract details, my work schedule, and some of the ins-and-outs of the Bolshoi. Score!

But then my colleagues escorted me to my home which, as a side note, happens to be in the middle of a forest. And they were speaking real-time Russian. And all sense of self was quickly diminished. I started settling in to discover, as I had been warned, that I have the worst internet connection in existence. Farewell self confidence and my mother’s words of reassurance. Lifeline to English-speaking civilization officially cut.

Head officially messed with, I had a bit of a problem figuring out the lock on my door. I’d try to unlock it and the key would just turn and turn, accomplishing nothing. (CRUCIAL: I’m talking about the lock on the inside. Which requires unlocking to leave the apartment.) My Russian colleague tried it once. It worked, of course, and he looked at me like I was a complete idiot. Which I definitely felt like at that point, so he wasn’t too far off.

Instead of trying it again, I decided to unpack…finally! It felt fabulous!!! There’s something so grand about NOT living out of a suitcase. I then whipped up a quick pasta dinner, tried to rejuvenate my tired soul with a considerable amount of success, THEN attempted opening my door and STILL couldn’t, so I called it a night and took a couple shots to knock myself out.

Shots, you ask in disbelief?!? No, I have not taken up drinking despite the current abundance of vodka in my surroundings. (For the record, in my new digs I have only one coffee mug, no normal-sized glasses, and four shot glasses.) But as a “welcome to Russia” souvenir, I successfully managed to pick up the cold virus that was rampant in my hostel room. For a solid week I’ve been surviving on an evening shot of my Tylenol Cough&Cold. Possibly the most valuable item I hauled across the world with me. Its current status makes my survival of the coming year questionable. See below:

This morning there was sunshine and with a slightly clearer head post a solid night’s sleep, I thought I might have the intelligence and confidence to get my door open and venture outside. I REALLY wanted to run...the weather was perfect and that’s not an easy commodity to come by in these parts! So I grabbed my keys and gave it a go. And they turned and turned. And didn’t open the door.

6 hours passed. I did some Russian reading, then tried to unlock the door. Sent a few emails while I had a briefly functional internet connection. Tried to unlock the door. Waited by the window, pretending to study Russian verbs while hoping for a passerby who could try opening the door from the outside. No luck. Tried to unlock the door. Examined my exit options and realized the only window was a bit high and had a screen to inhibit my exit. PRISONER!!! Tried to unlock the door. No success. My self-confidence is not at a peak, given the Russian language, so the repeated attempts were made hoping that the problem was with the door, but secretly fearing I’d simply found yet another Achilles’ heel---locks. Put on my shoes and jacket, determined that I would make it to the store…no food and no toothpaste was not going to happen…and tried the lock again. You guessed it. Didn’t work.

Call someone??? I had no phone numbers for anyone within a 45 minute radius of my new residence. And besides that, every outbound text I’d tried sending the evening before had been met with the word ERROR. Service issues or my issues? The constant questioning. Can’t work a phone, can’t open a door, can’t get the internet to work…enough of the mind games!

I kicked the screen out of the window.

Four hours later I’m back inside. My door still doesn’t work. I even had a Russian try it. Just to ease my mind. I’ll likely still be locked in come morning. And there’s a 100% chance I won’t wake up fluent in the Russian language. But know this:
I will take my shots tonight and I will vanquish this cough and cold. I will leave the apartment tomorrow, albeit through the window. And I am going to speak my terrible Russian to my class and to anyone else who will listen. I may be losing daily battles here in Russia, but I will kick down as many screens as necessary to be sure that I win the war.

My Tickets to the Kremlin

This summer I took an intermediate Political Russian course while working in Virginia. The Russian portion of the class seemed ideal...comprehensive grammar review, lots of speaking practice, etc. The Political portion? Not as much. It ended up being fascinating and informative, though several times the vocabulary seemed a bit impractical. As in, "when will I ever use this vocab outside of class?!"

Answer: my first week in Russia.

Wednesday the weather was stunning so, despite early signs of sickness, I decided to go out for a round of sightseeing. I was aiming for Red Square, but after people watching in Александровский Сад, Alexander Gardens, I ended up at the entrance to the Kremlin. Ticketless. After a brief conversation with one of the guards, he started me off in the direction of the ticket office. I walked that direction briefly, but decided it wasn't worth the entrance fee at the moment...I had plans to meet up with my 1 Russian friend shortly thereafter. I started to walk back the direction I had come and, lo and behold, there was the security guard. Walking towards me, with a ticket! This was wholly refreshing, given that the day before I'd been on a tirade about the unfriendly nature of several of the Russians I'd dealt with.

Despite having been in Moscow once before, I'd never made it inside the Kremlin. Stunning!

The Kremlin houses several churches in its walls, the oldest being the Cathedral of the Assumption (pictured immediately below), built in 1475-1479.

A fantastic ticket to have scored! Wednesday I loved Moscow. (I'm fickle at the moment. But so is Moscow.) Even more so when I walked outside and met up with Boris. Who offered me another ticket to the Kremlin! But this time, it was a bit fancier...enter heightened Political Russian course vocabulary. This invite was for a приём (priyom) at the PALACE! The Grand Kremlin Palace isn't open to visitors, so this American girl was seriously excited.

And so should you be. Because now you get an exclusive virtual tour!

Our evening was spent in the Aleksandrovsky Hall, Andreyevsky Hall, and Georgiyevskiy Hall, first attending a drink reception and then an orchestra concert featuring soloists from the Red Army Chorus. In the early 90's, with the fall of the Soviet Union, the Palace was given a little makeover...to the tune of about 1 billion dollars. It seems the restoration of these halls definitely put some of those funds to work!

Totally flashed out, but proof that I was in attendance.

My favorite details of the evening?

1. The entrance up the Red Staircase into the halls. 58 steps lined with armed Russian guards in uniform. Over the years, these steps have seen a lot of history and it was an amazing feeling climbing them with guards on either side.

2. Juice! It's likely due to the fact that it was a 5 o'clock concert, but alongside the champagne they had a myriad of fresh juices to choose from. For someone who doesn't drink alcohol and seriously appreciates juice, this scored pretty high. Go Russia.

3. The concert itself. A great orchestra, talented singers, and a highly diverse program. In 2 hours we covered Russian opera, Russian pop, "The Prayer," some military music, an Ave Maria thrown in...we were not wanting for variety! Eclectic like the Moscow I'm getting to know.

4. People watching. Always.

Another serious score of a ticket. And a welcome opportunity to see the little vocabulary I do know put to use!

I now have an official week in Moscow on the books!

Moscow Never Sleeps

Right about now I'm starting to enjoy simple things. Especially things like short words, easy memorization...basically, anything but Russian. So when I was introduced to this song last night, I found it quite appealing.

The lyrics:

Moscow never sleeps.
Я люблю тебя! (I love you)

The End.



Keepin' it real. Real simple.

Whether or not you think this song is the coolest thing you've ever heard, where I heard it was pretty fantastic. Check it out.

The arts might not have been a very lucrative career choice (a quick glimpse at my current hostel/eclectic grocery collection would assure you of that), BUT I did land myself a set of friends that tend to have hookups. I try and return the favor when possible. Here in Moscow I have approximately 1 friend at the moment, but he happens to be a musician. Who works for the government. (The latter being particularly useful in this country). Cue great tickets to the War Music Festival concert on Red Square. With a complimentary blanket to ward off the chill.

The festival is part of the commemoration of the bicentennial of Napoleon's defeat in 1812. Military bands from several countries performed, offering up their national music and typically playing a Russian tribute as well (hence Moscow Never Sleeps). While there was no US delegation they did give us a nod musically. What with? Darth Vader's theme song. And Indiana Jones. I have to admit, I giggled. The tunes juxtaposed against the Red Square backdrop just didn't quite fit. Loved it.

It was a surreal evening I have to say. Walking around with a Houston friend in Moscow, taking in this amazing city, and then realizing its mine. It's not just a 10-day holiday, or even a month-long visit. For better and worse...and trust me, I'm feeling both...for now it's home.

Люблю тебя, моя Москва!

Posted in celebration of the city's 865th birthday: I love you, my Moscow!

What I love?

Finding the FAMILIAR in a foreign environment.

Thirsty?Hit up this restaurant, officially a DJ Cafe, called the Funky Lime/Функи Лайм.

Get your rubles. Avoid ATM fees. WIN!

The ECLECTIC...

No street parking available? Irrelevant in this city.

The SCENERY...

And the QUIRKS that go with it...

There's a babushka waiting to take your rubles at these city pit stops. Warning: Bring your own paper.

The PEOPLE. And the PEOPLE WATCHING...

Don't even get me started on child mullets and clowns.

Люблю тебя, моя Москва!

Happy Anniversary to Москва and Me!

I had every intention of arriving in Moscow this morning and spending the day productively...a bit of sight seeing, grocery shopping, and a few other errands. But then I arrived at my hotel and saw my bed. Farewell productivity, hello blissful sleep and lounging! After two red-eye flights, I could have cared less about waging a war with jet lag.

Said flights passed without incident. Unless you want me to launch into my tirade against sandwich seating. I do NOT do the middle seat gracefully. Or ungracefully. NEVER sit there actually. I have 6 feet of lengthy limbs to manage. But I wasn't going to get into this...

As the wheels hit the ground, I felt what's been possibly the second wave of nerves I've had in preparing for 300+ days in Moscow. The first round came on Tuesday when I had a Russian language evaluation via phone. As it turns out, NOT fluent. Thank you for reminding me. Right before I leave. The emotional basket case that was packing my bags and saying my goodbyes doesn't even warrant the Nerves category..way too much of a trainwreck to be appropriately identified. I actually lost it just seeing a commercial for the Michigan vs. Alabama game. Don't judge...I believe in true love when it comes to Michigan football. ANYWAY,that brings us to Round 2. We landed and for a solid 5 minutes I felt like I was approximately 15 years old. Who was going to walk me through passport control? What if my luggage didn't make it? Would my driver be there? How would I find my hotel without a functioning phone?!? The list goes on.

But everything went flawlessly. Luggage intact. Driver on time. Smooth passage through passport control (I even skipped the long line at a tip from a fellow passenger and hit up the Diplomat entry). And driving into Moscow, I finally felt the excitement that's been suppressed amidst the mounds of planning. I'm back in a city I love, surrounded by a language I love, and I've even figured out how to watch the football I love! Though it might have to be at 4 am...

And Moscow was excited to see me as it turns out. Street parties, live bands, fireworks over Red Square. They really went all out. It may have had something to with the fact that it's a city holiday...happy 865th anniversary to Moscow!...but I'd rather flatter myself thinking it was for me.

Highlights of venturing out when I finally tore myself from my bed:

A man walking a jaguar. Had to do a double take for that one. The advantage to staying near the circus. Or disadvantage, should the jaguar choose.

Hot chocolate. My favorite Russian past time. Yes, it's already cold enough here to warrant it. This does not bode well for the upcoming winter...

PINK! Most who know me are aware that this is actually my least favorite color. But, it happens to be the color of my new hair dryer, as well as the predominant color in my current hostel, especially when it comes to paint AND toilet paper choices.

Finding a hair dryer ended up taking far longer than I anticipated, but after several stores and a bit of google research I discovered why. They're sold primarily in stores that are the equivalent of our American Best Buy. I purchased mine at М Видео. A media/video store. Of course that's where you would look for a blow dryer. Right across the aisle from the Wii.

And now with no further ado...back to my bed! I have a sneaking suspicion that this is going to be a fabulous year.

26.2 Reasons to Run

I distinctly remember finishing my first half marathon and resolving NEVER to run a marathon. While 13.1 miles has it's enjoyments, I was confident 26.2 miles would eliminate all such pleasures and break my body in the process.

I have never been so happy, relieved, proud, and grateful to eat my words.

My discovery: the greatest difficulty of a marathon lies not in the race itself, but in the preparation. And the majority of that preparation? Mental. Of course there's an element of physicality that requires conditioning...and quite a substantial element at that. But I firmly believe that the real battle waged in running, be it 1 mile or 26.2, is with your mind. We're our greatest allies and our worst enemies, and challenging our bodies will take your mind one of two ways. The first, and most obvious: negativity. Running is THE WORST! I'm winded...maybe even breathing daggers. My joints are stiff. My big toenail's probably falling off. That hill killed my quads, and why is my right hamstring weirdly sore? My shoe's tied funny. No way am I going to make this. MUST...W.A..L...K. Seriously. Some days it feels that dramatic.

The other obvious alternative: positivity. But here's the key. ***Positivity doesn't mean you don't have any of the negative thoughts!*** But as they come, and they WILL come, you train yourself to look beyond them. You can acknowledge them, give them a moment of validation...the complaints ARE real after all and ignoring them isn't going to get you anywhere. But then you let them go. For me, that requires more than just stopping the negative thought before it becomes a negative thought process. You need a positive replacement. Some days, those might seem hard to come by, but if that happens to be the case, I know I needed the run. And a healthy dose of life perspective. Might as well find it on my feet!

This is one of my major reasons for running without music (in addition to safety). I can't afford the distraction. I need to tune into my body and how it feels, so I can tune in more effectively to my mind...where the true training begins!

In the final weeks before the race, I had a friend pass along a fun piece of advice she'd heard somewhere along her marathon training. For each mile you run, dedicate it to someone. Or something. Let that be your motivation and mental focus for the mile, with the idea that then 26.2 will fly by. She actually suggested pulling out a slip of paper each mile of the activity, but I wanted to be sure to experience the race itself to the fullest, letting my mind be in the moment. So I opted for making a gratitude list the night before, not assigning specific mileage, but putting myself in a place mentally where I was focused outside of myself. And it's amazing how many of them came to mind during the race itself. I won't list all 26, but here are a few.

First, last and somewhere on the middle of the list is my FAMILY!

I've never run a race where I had so much support. My parents braved the early wakeup call and chilly mountain morning with me, family showed up cheering at various points along the route, and were waiting for me at the finish line. A few of them even ran along side briefly. And of anything that came to mind during or after the race, this is what overwhelmed me with gratitude the most. Not because of the moments they helped along the race, but because of the moments they've helped me through my life. I'm eternally grateful for their support, friendship, and strength.

SIGHT:

While the course I ran was mountainous, hilly, and difficult (mile 18 was dubbed Hamburger Hill due to the steep incline), Park City is NOT a shabby place. Vision is something that I find easy to take for granted...I've always had it. But no experience would be quite as sweet without the beautiful, the ugly, the humorous, and the inspiring pictures we see along the way. A mountain sunrise for example.

Others: Change, Food, Pain, Childhood, Judgment (and the restraint thereof), Weakness, Death, Emotions, Hard Work...the list goes on. It's a brief list of gratitude. My positive powers for training thought. My mental mastery. And ultimately my 26 reasons to run.

The last 0.2? It was all mine.

Success isn't how far you got, but the distance you traveled from where you started.

~Steve Prefontaine

System Cleanse

No, this is not a post on my juicing fascination. Or about the blind date who refused to feed me as he was mid-watermelon cleanse. (I heard about his intestines in enough detail to determine a second date was not necessary). Rather, there are three experiences which I need out of my system before tomorrow am: My Three Worst Runs (Please don't associate the final word with the previous intestinal reference).

CANADA:

Courtenay, BC. We were on tour with our opera production. Fancy, right?! Oh, wait...we were touring to Courtenay. In November. A colleague of mine had never run more than 10 miles and wanted to do a half marathon, so we decided the next morning was the perfect time to do it. I have never been more mistaken. It was freezing cold and raining what felt like ice. Snow would have been SO much better. Neither of us were properly clothed for the climate...shorts, capris, light jackets. It. Was. MISERABLE. Within the first mile my feet were soaked through from the puddles which made it all the more freezing. Around mile 5, I started getting an awful headache which made my vision start to go a bit funny. 8 miles to go??? Not a chance. We turned that boat right back around (wish we'd actually had a boat), vanquished by the rain. I have never hated running more then at that moment.

Luckily, we tried again the next morning. Courtenay is actually a quaint little town, and when we left town and got into the more wooded areas it was breathtaking. Half marathon attempt #2 was successful and even pleasant. But not pleasant enough to erase the memory of #1.

CLEANSE.

DALLAS:

Supposedly I was training for a marathon that was to occur in two weeks. The supposedly bit comes from the fact that I had hurt my back whilst in Tulsa and took about 5 weeks to get back to real running. I decided with a talented soprano friend and fellow runner to go out for a run around White Rock Lake. She would loop once for 9 miles and I could could go around a second time for 18. I attribute the beginnings of this failure to a Vietnamese food truck.

I had a fabulous pork sandwich and my fascination with food trucks made it all the more wonderful. Until that evening when my intestines revolted. (In the very way I encouraged you NOT to think of at the beginning of this post). I assumed I would be fine in the morning. Wasn't. Went running anyway, determined not to be bested by my body. MISTAKE!!! I felt slow and lethargic, which was worsened by the guilt I felt at slowing down my running mate. But that would have been fine. What wasn't fine was the desperate need I had for a bathroom around mile 6. Found one. And never wanted to leave it. But did and attempted running again. I think I must have been pretty dehydrated at this point...my water intake couldn't keep up with the loss of all my insides. Which led to me hunched over the edge of the trail gagging and wishing I could throw up something besides spit. We walked the rest of the way. And I didn't run the marathon.

At least it was a scenic trail...CLEANSE.

VIRGINIA:

Another attempt at 18 miles. Unfortunately in the sweltering heat and humidity of a Virginian summer. Smooth start. Ran from Reston to Vienna in relative comfort (I'd started early in the day) and after 10 miles was headed back home. Out of water, I decided to make a pit stop to rehydrate at the local Whole Foods.

Downed a water bottle and chocolate milk...yes I love it. And yes it is also endorsed as a fantastic recovery drink post run. Bonus. PROBLEM: I quit running and my body didn't know quite how to respond. So it chose stomach knotting, and a hangout in the grocery store restroom. Sensing a pattern with my overactive metabolism. Unfortunately, I still had to get home. Weak, nauseated, desperately wishing for a magic taxi or friend to surface and offer me a ride, I had to make it 8 more miles. By this time it was about 10:30 and the sun and humidity had combined in full force. What's a girl to do?!? I called my mom. She talked me through almost the rest of my run (coupled with occasional walking stretches) and gratefully helped the miserable time pass. With about 2 miles left she had to go. I may have cried. Farewell all mental and physical fortitude. For a brief stretch I honestly thought I would forever be stuck on a roadside in Reston. Home was not happening. Luckily, I have sisters and Lindsey successfully talked me through the rest of the distance.

I felt over-heated, dehydrated and basically awful for the rest of my day off.

CLEANSE.

Fortunately I now find each of these incidences entertaining. (Please note that not all of my running is quite this pathetic. I do actually enjoy it on occasion.) But it was time to clean house of all negativity as regards my running. I'll need every ounce of space available for positive thinking TOMORROW!!!

See you on the other side!