Ilsa Around The World

I'll have a Moai Christmas without you...

2009-01-03T09:13:00.012-07:00

I love Christmas in Canada. I know it's over-commercialized and kind of stressful at times, but the decorations, excited kids, xmas baking... can't get enough of that festive spirit. I usually start listening to Christmas tunes in November to ensure a full month of it all.

However, this year I opted to stay in sunny South America for a warm winter and it's just so expensive to fly home. In fact, Santiago has been so hot and summery, that when I noticed Starbucks serving gingerbread frapuccinos and playing Bing Crosby 'Let it Snow', I almost fell over. The next few weeks continued to show American-style decorations, including an enormous Coca-Cola Christmas tree across from La Moneda, the government building (chileans are the biggest coke consumers in the world), but nothing felt like Christmas to me. I knew it was going to be difficult without family at that special time and there wasn`t much work for me, so I booked myself a ticket to Rapa Nui, otherwise known as Easter Island... 4000 miles west in Polynesia, though considered part of Chile.

I arrived Christmas eve, after a long week of work and saying good-byes to students, etc. The only thing in the town open was an internet cafe so I called home where they were watching old home videos, and, I suspect, eating mom`s fudge, Chandra`s cookies, or Aunt Lorraine`s poppycock. What I would have done to be there with them... munching on one of mom's butter tarts... despite it being -30 in Saskatchewan.

After crying myself to sleep, I woke up remembering I was on a beautiful island and probably saved myself 20 extra pounds this year.

I stayed in family-run hostel, where there was only one other guest. At breakfast we were invited to go the beach with the family. The island isn't that big.. only 30 km long and 12 km wide, but the beaches are at the other end of the island so we took the opportunity since there wasn`t much else happening Christmas day. I had forgotten to bring a towel, so searched the few shops that were open for a sarong to use. The island is super expensive.. they really know how to capitalize on tourists. I finally found one fairly reasonably priced and just the right size in a bright shade of sky blue.

Unfortunately, the hostel owners,who have four little girls all under 4, were in the midst of a domestic dispute when the the time came to leave. My fellow traveler and I waited uncomfortably nearby and eventually went with only the disgruntled dad.
My new friend, Kaethe, is sitting in front of my first-seen set of moais on the ahu platform near Anakena beach... what an amazing thing to look at when floating in the water. It was terribly hot that day so spent a great deal of time in the water then laid on the beach with a good book. Ah Christmas! After a couple of heavenly hours, while reapplying sunscreen to my gringa skin, I discovered a strange shade of blue on my stomach. Upon further inspection, it turned out my whole body and clothes were covered in blue dye from my reasonably-priced sarong. It certainly didn't spoil my day, but I did spend several hours later trying to rinse out the sarong and scrub it off myself. In fact, it took 3 days to lose it off my hands. I literally had a 'blue' Christmas.

I went to church, but missed the mass later on. There were beautiful wood carvings and fresh flowers making it smell wonderful.

There is still a lot of mystery pertaining to these gigantic statues, including how they were erected. They're made out of volcano rock and the tallest one is 33 feet and weighs almost 30 tonnes.

Kaethe had rented a car so invited me along the next day to tour the island and check them all out.

This one is my favourite. It's been restored to what they believe was a finished product, with large white eyes and top knot, possibly depicting the hairstyle of the 10th century. Most of them are right along the coast, but facing inland, maybe protecting their villages.

I bumped into a couple of my buddies from work who were also enjoying Christmas there. Not too tough to spot these gringos.

The quarry where all the moais were made is a mystical place - almost like a graveyard with so many different, unfinished moais. It felt like they were looking at my while I wondered around them.

Maybe this one is my favorite. I like his lips.

The ahu on Topanagi is very impressive. It's named after a Japanese company which restored them... most of the moais were damaged from tsunamis and war. My plane was filled with Japense people... apparently it's been a hot destination spot for them for the past two years.

See the horses? There are over 6000 horses on the island which are all branded, but most run wild.. getting into people's gardens and on the highway. Some of them aren't doing so well, and sadly, I saw two dead ones. Apparently, because they don't have enough water in the summer, and all they eat is grass, there's too much of chlorophyll which causes them to commit suicide.

Aren't they important looking!

More than horses and moais, the island has a lot to offer, including a site of an ancient civiliazation complete with petroglyphics, caves, and this crater lake, which has fauna of citrus trees, olive trees, and rumour has it, sweet-tasting water. Lonely Planet said I could hike around it, but I had to turn around at the edge by the ocean. No worries, was a lovely view and at one point, I could see the pacific ocean in three different directions.

I had the privilege of meeting some local Rapa Nuians who were having a fish bbq near this spot. I was even serenaded by a few guys while watching this amazing sunset.

Most of them are pretty friendly, seeming to appreciate the tourism, although a few of the women weren't too keen on me. I won't speculate. On my last night, I was invited to a farewell party of a guy who is going to Paris to participate in an exposition, showcasing Rapa Nui dance, music, and wood-carving. When we arrived, they were listening to Bryan Adams and getting high. Later on, when the party really got going they put on some Don Williams. They love country music here.

Anyway, can't say enough about this magical place. I'd love to go back some day, and, though it didn't feel much like Christmas to me, there's definitely a spirit in Rapa Nui of it's own. Iorana and peace be with you.

San Pedro de Atacama

2009-01-01T16:44:00.002-07:00

Here`s one I've been forgetting to post...

Winter holidays in July gave me the opportunity to go to Atacama desert in the north of Chile, the driest desert in the world.

Some of my work collegues had planned this trip and asked me to come along shortly after I arrived in Santiago. Closer to the time, I was wary of spending eight days with all these 'crazies', but eager to get away from the pollution and bleakness of Santiago's winter.

We stayed in San Pedro, a small town, seemingly made solely for tourism. After eight days, we knew everybody in town and saw pretty much all there was to see, but I certainly could have stayed longer. It was so nice to see the big sky again. The scenery was stunning, and I managed to get some time out on my own, too.

So long ago now that I can't remember the reason behind this thermal spring, but it was very deep and only the top part was hot and from my waist down, it was freeeeezing. Very strange. Although it was salty enough to float, we had to keep treading water to stay at a nuetral temperature.

Jen made us these crazy hats and scarves... we stood out, but they certainly kept us warm.
Geysers... springs shooting out of the freezing cold ground... at least my feet were freezing. We had to leave at 4 am to get to the site and see the steam.
A couple of hours later... geysers still very cool.
Vicuña.. endangered and lovely to see, but they blended quite well into the rocks.

Me gusta flamingos!!

Small community where we stopped for a llama bbq. Poor llama... but tasty!
Karen, who is somewhere around the 65 or 70 mark (she won't say for sure) was more active than the rest of us... even taking a side-trip in a 4x4 to Bolivia. Where that girl gets her drive I`ll never know.

When I saw these horses galloping in the desert, I knew I had to do it too. I went to tourist agency and said in broken Spanish 'I want to gallop in valle de muerte'. When I arrived the next day, I saw the team of old, almost dead horses and one very spirited horse. The other riders were beginner's, not unlike myself, but they had saved a special horse for me. This horse did not like being behind any other horse and often took off despite my pulling on the reigns. There was no galloping, it seemed more like it as running for it's life. At one point, I had to be saved by the guide as my saddle was falling sideways and my foot loose... must have been a site. No wonder it's called 'Death Valley'.

Sandboarding is all the rage with the young hipsters. Most of them couldn't get down the hill without falling... like in slow motion. Funny.

I really do love flamingos!

Valle de Luna, Moon Valley, really does look like the moon.

Did I mention my fondness for flamingos?

Not sure I've ever seen such beautiful scenery as in the Atacama desert. It was good to get to know my colleagues, despite my inability to kep up with them as far as drinking goes anyway. Amazing scenery and memories to last a lifetime.

First Impressions

2008-11-10T15:10:00.000-07:00

Hola amigos, I'm back! After so many months, I'm trying to reflect upon my start in Santiago, Chile, which has been my home since May 2008. Dad was bugging me to put up a few photos at least so here are some from autumn in the southern hemisphere. The first is the entrance of a pretty park from the late 1800's, Santa Lucia hill, which I found by chance on my first weekend here.

Let me catch you up. Enroute here I was still pumped with enthusiasm from Guatemala and quite pleased with myself and my new language skills, and also very excited to start this new adventure into the unknown.

I arrived at 2.30 a.m. after a long flight with three stop-overs and went directly to the shuttle desk to get a ride to my accomodation which had been arranged by my new employer. 'Quiero ir a la providencia, por favor' I said to the desk clerk. He responded with 'blah blah blah... blah blah blah'. My Huh? was followed by more 'blah blah blah'. Defeated, I replied 'no entiendo' I don't understand. Thanks to the piece of paper I had the address written, not to mention the obvious context, there really wasn't a problem, only my wonderment. I tried again with the shuttle driver, but got more of the same... fast, slurred, undeciferable expressions. He seemed nice enough though. When we got to the address, there was no such apartment number. We were both baffled. I was tired. He was not patient (another Chilean characteristic one would never suspect of a latino). Luckily, I had written down the name of my director and eventually crashed at her place for what remained of the night.

This is Salvador, who jumped into bed with me the next morning, mistaking me for his mom. He freaked out, but we've since become great friends. He and his mom gave me my first tour.

Entonces... meet the Mapocho River. Smelling as bad as it looks, it flows east to west through the city, making me long for the beautiful Alberta Bow river. I was horrified at first sight. Some of my students have tried to tell me it's from the soil which is full of minerals, but common sense and wikipedia tell me otherwise. However, I have noticed outside of Santiago the same murky colour of the rivers.. even the pacific ocean has brown waves on the beach. hmm
Santiago is in a valley surrounded by mountains, including the Andes to the east. At times, the skyline is beautiful, but for most of the winter, June to September, it's filled with smog and pollution unless it's raining. It's flat, apart from a few hills, like the one I'm standing on for this picture called Cerro San Cristobal, where everyone flocks to on the weekends.

I can't say for sure, but I believe it was the pollution which initiated my affliction of bronchitis. I started coughing up phlem two weeks after I arrived and continued for the next two months. I couldn't walk or talk without going into fits (Dad, I know how you feel now... and how annoying I must have been to others). The worst part of it was that at night (while trying not to choke to death) I just could not get warm. Only the rich in Santiago have central heating. Outside it wasn't so bad, but after working in a drafty classroom in the evenings, I would come home and be chilled to the bone, unable to warm up. Most people have portable gas heaters that they huddle around, but I didn't. Sometimes I went to bed fully dressed, including a winter coat, under a down duvet, sleeping bag, and quilt... all of which I had to buy. It was depressing and added to my frustrations of this city and job. My students recommended getting a pololo (boyfriend), but that story is for another post.

My visit to the medical clinic was pretty funny. The doctor loved practicing his English on me, but only knows it through songs... 'put your head on my shoulder', 'don't worry, be happy', and then would laugh hysterically. It was also weird kissing my doctor on the cheek when I left. We just don't do that sort of thing in Canada.

The address mixup of the first night was only a premonition of things to follow. I have never in my life seen a more disfunctional place of business. At first I thought I was losing it or something, but alas, no... not yet anyway, it's just one of those places - one of those countries. I've heard that Chile has the lowest productivity per amount of hours worked of any other country. They used to have a 48-hour work week but now it's down to 40... still makes for a long day if you have an hour or so commute. The inefficiencies really got to me at times, so much so that I quit my job... twice. But they kept talking me into staying and now I'm glad I did. Recently a girl from Toronto started working with us and my director asked me "what's with you Canadians and having to be effecient?" Now, I'm becoming a master at tolerance and patience.

There's no place better to practise paciencia than the streets of Santiago. Gosh these people walk slow.... and not in a straight line. It's almost impossible not to bump into them. It's like shopping with mom. And when one crosses my speedy-trying-to-avoid-collision path and bumps into me, she'll look up at me... way up as they're very little people...completely offended as if it were my fault. I'm not exaggerating this in any way. Walking down the stairs in the metro when a train is coming actually pains me. I can see the train and the way to it, but can't get past all these little people who are going every which direction. They're busy talking to their friends or day-dreaming. What's funny is when they finally notice that the train is coming, like when it's right in front of their faces, they race as fast as they can (which isn't very fast) to get on the train. Then they stand right at the entrance, blocking anyone behind them (namely, me) from getting on.

Anyway, despite these minor cultural characteristics, it wasn't all that bad, and the promise of a great summer kept me wanting to see it through. There are some fantastic old colonial buildings which kind of remind me of Europe. Most are decrepit and, sadly, lots are being replaced with big, boring apartment and office buildings since they can't afford to maintain or refurbish them. Although the Chilean economy has been fairly strong the past few years, it's still a developing country and, living in my neighborhood of gringoland and malls, it's hard to remember that at times.
Here's a morning view from my last apartment. The snow is almost gone now.
This is looking out towards Santiago from the outskirts where I went for a hike. We couldn't even see the city from above the smog and we could smell the petrol fumes when we were coming back down. Disgusting.

The next day some of my students didn't show up for class because the city had declared a state of emergency for gas emissions, restricting particular car license numbers from driving for the day. As well as the 'emergency' days, the government recently revamped the Trans-Santiago system by cutting the amount of buses in half, although they're still plentiful from what I can see. The drivers are sheer crazy, too... driving like maniacs, sudden braking which knocks old ladies, including me, to the floor from time to time.

Despite the hazards on the bus, I enjoy a ride from time to time. There's usually a someone busking for coins with an 'original' gig, though not necessarily talented. The various street performers are at most traffic lights, too. I see a 'juggler' practicing in the park outside my building every morning.

I arrived in time for Corpus Christie day. Chile is predominately catholic. This colourful sawdust went on for several blocks. Luckily, this time of year doesn't produce much wind, but I did see a street dog 'messing it up'.
I haven't been to church here yet, but I did go inside one. This one. on the left.

There was a month-long student strike in July and one of my classes was at the University of Chile, our school's biggest client, where it was initiated, although other universities and even high schools were involved as the curriculum for entering uni was being challenged. Despite plentiful universities here, the education system isn't very good and most students can't afford to attend. Without it, they get jobs worth on average $350 per month. The campus where I worked was actually taken over by the students... a lock out of administration. They made me sign a petition to get in for the classes.

Here I've already come to Chile's Independance Day, 18 de Septiembre without even mentioning the food (next post maybe). Suddenly, the sun was shining and small breezes were blowing the pollution away. Spring had sprung.. There were Chilean flags everywhere and people on the street had warm smiles and greetings. It was like I'd stepped into a different country. Obviously, weather has much to do with people's moods.

The previous week was the anniversary of Chile's 1973 Coup d'etat. Our classes were cancelled that afternoon so people could get to the safety of their homes. Traffic was backed up for hours. I couldn't even get on the metro so had to walk home. All the shops closed. I didn't witness any riots, but my friend who lives in the suburbs where the action generally takes place, got caught up in what seemed like a war zone. He flagged down a police car to help him get home, fearing a molotov cocktail land on his head.

This is La Moneda government building where the former communist president, Salvador Allende, allegedly killed himself. The country is still very divided politically. They're either socialist or ultra conservative.. there's no middle ground.

I went to a music concert in a park on the other side of this building during the September long weekend called Salvador Allende: 100 años, 100 canciones. A popular folk group who had lived in exile in France during Pinochet's regime, sang 100 songs continuously in honour of what would have been Allende's 100th birthday. They were very good.

There were historical videos playing on the stage and a lot of red flags waving. It was quite emotional. It's hard to believe that in my lifetime, in a country that seems so modern to me, they had to survive communism and a dictatorship with horrible acts of terror and murder. Even more surprising is the different perspectives of the Chileans on the events. My students at a Chilean financial company where I have most of my classes weren't all that impressed when I related to them the next day that I'd been there.

Salva came with us. He likes getting his photo taken.

My room-mates at the my current home held their annual Miss Spring contest. Alejandro and Claudio are on the right, Mariela is somewhere else. The three of them speak only spanish so it's been good for me. Although a lot gets missed in translation, I've learned how to coordinate bathroom time quite well. The others in the photos are friends who I often hang out with.

Alejandro won the contest and I came in 2nd, along with the two gorgeous Columbian guys I'm standing next to.

Santiago certainly isn't what I had expected of a latin-american city, but it has it's own unique characteristics which I've come to appreciate. The red wine is cheap and fantastic. Cheap street food... empanadas (meat-covered pastries), sopillas (fried squash), fresh-squeezed orange juice, completos (hotdogs stuffed w/ avocado and tomatoes and whatever else you want (my personal favourite). There's a guy on every corner selling fresh produce; lemon trees; people singing while walking along the street; and pisco sour. Taxis are cheap and plentiful, though I need to be in the right mood to respond to their questions starting with 'how old are you?' and 'do you have a husband?'. I love the kiss on the cheek greeting, and my lovely students could not be more fun. It's also fun trying to learn a new language... Chilean... I'll try for Spanish in my next country.

Thanks so much to all my friends and family sending emails, phone calls, and facebook 'pokes'. Means so much. Thinking sadly of recently lost friends, dear Vi, Lorne, Ashish, and Alan F. RIP. My thoughts are with you and your families.

Mi Sobrina, Copper Jane... Feliz Cumpleanas!

2008-07-29T09:38:00.001-06:00

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Abelino

2008-05-14T17:04:00.009-06:00

A few years ago I started sponsoring Abelino, a Guatemalan boy, through Foster Parent´s Plan, http://www.plancanada.ca/, now called Plan. I got the idea from those long, sappy infomercials that can make you cry, usually early on a Sunday morning when you`re hungover and feeling emotional. I had been wondering about the real value of this program and others of the like for as long as I could remember and one morning CTV`s Rod Black was on it and he seemed so sincere and handsome so I decided to go ahead and order one up.

I`ve been kind of a lazy sponsor. I only sent a first letter last summer. Plan sends annual updates and photos which I appreciated, however, when I decided to come to Latin America, I wanted to check it all out for myself and it`s actually one of the reasons I chose Guatemala to study Spanish.

Despite communication issues with the Toronto office, I finally got the opportunity to meet Abelino and his family on my last day in Guatemala.

I met up with the Plan staff in Cobàn, located in central Guatemala, who were very welcoming and informative about the services they provide for over 12,000 families.

As far as tourism goes, Cobàn, a major coffee-growing area, is a stopping-off point for the Alta Verapz region which is filled with gorgeous scenery of mountains with orchids, waterfalls, and forests. The town itself is pretty uninteresting with a MacDonald`s and modern mall on the outskirts contrasting with the old street markets and a plain town square.

This office staffs 37 energetic people who work on a large number of projects, including santitation and water, human rights, inter-active school initiatives, etc. Since the area is still so undeveloped, they use dirt bikes and 4X4 Toyota trucks to travel around the communities. I was impressed by all they do and the challenges of working with the government and other NGO`s to actually get things done. .

What they failed to brief me on was the visit to Abelino`s school. His community of San Antonio IV is near Carcha, a small town about an hour outside of Cobàn. Apparently I was lucky since the previous visiting sponsors had to travel over 6 hours to visit their family.

I knew we were going to the school, but I had no idea that I`d be received like a celebrity. Each of the 50 children greeted me with Buenos Dias and warm smiles. They had laid fresh-cut grass and decorated the room. It smelled wonderful. There was a formal presentation of speeches, songs, and dancing, with a lot of thanking going on. The well-rehearsed spanish was impressive since they speak Q`eqchi and most have only learned a little Spanish so far. Some children were very shy with me but others were trying to catch my eye and when they did, would beam and laugh. It was actually quite embarrasing since I hadn`t brought them anything and it all seemed to be so much. I found out later that I was the first sponsor to ever visit this particular community, and possibly the only foreigner they had ever met.

Guatemala has about a 10-minute long national anthem. Nice though... and it gave me a chance to memorize `thank you` in Q`eqchi. Only a few of them were attempting to sing it, but they all seemed sincere.

I felt nervous when I was about to meet Abelino´s family. I only had my backpacking clothes to wear and I wasn´t sure what gifts would be appropriate.... I took a soccer ball, some books and school supplies, and a few kitchen things for the mom. I wondered what they expected of me.

Abelino´s sister, Aurora, was at the school and this beautiful girl was so shy she couldn´t even make eye contact with me at first. She came with us to their home, which is about a 15-minute walk through rugged terrain. The landscape was breathtaking.

Abelino actually completed the primary school we visited last year and now goes to middle school on a scholarship he received. Aurora is twelve and has the very important function of caring for her younger siblings. Like the other girls in her community, it is unlikely that she´ll have the opportunity to go any further with her education since it´s a long distance and the parents are concerned both for their daughters´ safety and finding suitable husbands.

It´s not my place to say that isn´t right, but Abelino´s mom, Juana, does attend some of Plan´s women´s programs which teaches them the benefits of education, as well as child care and women´s rights (spousal abuse is a major problem there). At the moment she is going to meetings regarding baby stimulation. Often the mothers are too busy in the fields or cooking and caring for so many other children so the babies are left in the care of older sisters, etc. and just end up sitting like little lumps.

Fourteen-year-old Abelino was waiting rather anxiously with his family. He was very shy and seemed uncomfortable, but he gave me a kiss when I hugged him.

Their 5-month old baby has some skin disease, which Juana says is seasonal. They have a Plan-supported health clinic in the community but apparently the cream that normally takes care of it can´t be used on him since he´s too young. I set him on my lap and he immediately shit his pants, causing a lot of laughter.

The house was similar to the ones in the other village where I did the stove project, but more isolated. They have a dirt floor and an open fire in the kitchen. It´s long and narrow, with partial walls separating two bedrooms and a sitting area where a table and lawn chairs were set out for us. The coffee was surprisingly good, although sweet... sugar is luxury apparently. They had decorated with palms inside and out and there were a few football (soccer) posters on the wall. The clothes were all hung together on a rack. It´s hot and usually humid during the days and can be very cold at night.

Despite the heat, it was very comfortable being there. They didn´t fuss too much around me and didn´t even seem that curious at first. Although they, along with every other Guatemalan, can´t believe I´m not married. Overwhelmed and shocked were the words the translator used.

Juana, in particular, has a lovely nature. After she was finished cooking, which was almost the whole time we were there, we had a nice conversation, with the help of Herminia, the Q´eqchi translator/family case-worker, and the Spanish translator, Alma. Alma kept forgetting to translate as I wasn´t doing too bad with the Spanish at first, but as the day progressed... nada.

Juana married Abelino´s dad, Nicolas, at 14, which was arranged by their parents. Now she´s 28 and has five kids. I wondered why she kept trying to hide her mouth with her hands since she seemed to have a great set of teeth.. in fact, the only Mayan woman I´ve noticed with all of her teeth. She´s actually very beautiful, like Aurora, and funny. She said that if I lived with them, they´d have to raise their roof so I could walk inside the house. She said she wants to learn Spanish so that we can talk to eachother some day. I do too.

While waiting for lunch outside, Nicolas, who´s missing most of his teeth, went on several times about how much he appreciated my support. Embarrassing too. You know, it´s only $35 per month and I don´t even notice it. I mostly feel by how little I thought of it prior to my meeting the family.

For some reason they, too, felt embarrassed for what little they had to offer me. They kept saying that they wish they had something to give me.

This is their house from the road, with the small farm in front. They grow mainly coffee, corn, and the spice, carmadon. I had read that the Cobán area is the biggest exporter of carmadon in the world, mostly to the middle east. His crop hasn´t produced much lately, though.

Plan has been in the San Antonio IV community of 100 families for the past seven years. So far 67 are sponsored, while the rest are on a waiting list.

Seven-year-old Edgar, who is the most brazen of the bunch, is getting water from the barrel. He is sooo adorable and fun-loving. It´s amazing how one can be so happy with so little.

Their only water source is rain. They have gutters on the house and trees airmed at the top of it, but now it´s the dry season so they´re struggling. There´s a river 45-minutes away, but it´s very polluted. Plan is currently working with the community on a water project and, God-willing, one day that part will be easier on them.

The family goes to Carcha once a week to sell their products and they all take baths and do laundry after they´re done at the market.

In this photo is Alma, who grew up in the US, the driver, who also translated Q´eqchi, and Carola, another Plan worker.

The tortillas are on top of and fill the inside of the container which is actually a dried melon that I wasn´t familar with. It´s the traditional tortilla-warmer bowl. The big bowl of turkey soup in front was mine. I was told that I didn´t have to eat it all, but that I had to wrap what I couldn´t finish in a tortilla to take home. Being the guest of honour, I got to use one of the only two spoons.

This meal is reserved for special occasions, like weddings and funerals. The soup was quite tasty and even spicy, which isn´t typical in Guatemala. Me gusta! The leftovers were wrapped in banana leaves and Abelino presented me with a special cloth napkin to go with it.

Hermiana told us that Abelino had stopped going to school this year, but when he heard that I was coming to visit, he went back to his teacher and asked if he could return because he thought I´d stop sponsoring them.

After pressing Abelino, we discovered the reasons he didn´t want to go to school. It takes over an hour to walk there cross country. Plan had lent him an old bike to use for a while, but it kept having flat tires and he´d end up pushing it or changing the tire, then get there late. Another, more challenging, issue is that he finds it incredibly difficult. He misses weeks at a time to help harvest so he can never catch up, and most of his classes are in Spanish, which he barely understands. Most members of these communities believe that the eldest son should only have vocational training so he can farm. However, the one thing Abelino has going for him in regard to education is Juana´s belief that he can do something better with his life, like becoming a teacher.

The pressures must be great for Abelino. I could see it on his face. The odds are against him. I bought him a bike in Cobán before I left and the Herminia will deliver it to him, but he needs continual and postive motivation as his path, no matter his choice, will be difficult.

There wasn´t a lot of traffic in these parts, but we saw a few trucks such as this one, and a few picops, with about the same amount of people.

This is a field across the road from the family´s farm. You probably can´t zoom in enough, but you would see that all the labourers are women. Can´t imagine how hot and tired one would be after a day of work like that. We were there at least three hours and I never saw them take a break. Where are their husbands??

The impact of my visit to Abelino´s home didn´t really sink in until after I was in one of the many airports enroute to Chile from Guatemala the next day. It dawned on me while I was watching everyone go here and there that Abelino´s family would probably never in their lives see an airport. There´s so much I´ve experienced that their lives will never be part of. I don´t know if my life is better. They seem to be surrounded by great community and loving families. But I know mine is much easier and I have choices.

Entonces, it turns out those infomercials are pretty legit. I know that no organization is perfect, but I´ve learned that even a little really can go a long way. It´s also pretty hard to complain about an uncomfortable bed or a home away from the comforts of Canada when I know exactly where they´re sleeping

Keeping Abelino´s family in your prayers... Ilsa recommends.

¡Feliz Dia Mama!

2008-05-11T08:55:00.003-06:00

Hey Mom, wish I were there for you to cook for me and take care of me.... maybe next year!

Hope all you moms and mom-to-be´s are having a great day!

Bus Rides and Mayan Ruins

2008-05-07T18:45:00.010-06:00

I think variety is what makes Guatemala so interesting to me. Every region has something unique about it.

Rio Dulce, which heads in about 30 miles or so from the Carribean ocean, is filled with big, fancy sail boats. Many Americanos leave their boats here to keep them safe during Hurricane season. This was on our breakfast table in Rio Dulce town where a lot of the old `boaters` hang out... some of which end up with lovely young Guatemalan wives.

Sara and I parted ways that morning as she was going to meet her mom and I was headed to Flores in the North.

I waited in sweltering heat on the side of a urine-infested street for a bus that was over an hour late. The only other foreigners waiting were a Spanish couple who couldn`t speak English and weren`t really into communicating with me and my limited Spanish. I knew my adventure was really just beginning.

You can always see people in Guatemala sucking water or juice out of little bags. This one was filled with coconut and water, and when you`re sweating buckets a little foreign bacteria doesn`t seem all that bad... and it wasn`t.

The bus that finally came was packed full. I had to stand up in the front in the most uncomfortable postion(s) for 3 of the 5 hours it took to get there, with many stops of people getting on and off with all their bags. I`m always so curious about what`s in those bags. Lots of vegetables possibly.

I was also standing beside the seats of a family with a little boy who was seriously ill. He had dry heaves and was crying whenever he had energy enough to. I was less uncomfortable about my position than I was about the forecast of that little boy... God bless him. The father even offered me his seat at one point.

Flores is a pretty little town on an island where I stayed for a couple of nights. It`s about an hour from Tikal national park where an ancient Mayan civilization once existed. Ever see Apocalypto? Apparently a lot of the filming was done there and it was impossible not to think about Mel Gibson while wandering around.

I was excited to spot my first temple after a 20 minute stroll through a beautiful jungle. Although shortly afterward I met a worker who informed me that the trail I had just come off of was unsafe and that a woman was assulted and robbed the previous day. He said the rest of the trails were okay, but I was still pretty nervous. There are tourists, but not so many and it`s a big place.

I climbed the one behind me which sported a nice view beyond. I was scared to death though and didn`t even try to think about all the sacrifices of heads that were possibly thrown off of it in the past.

Here`s the veiw. To my left and right I could only see jungle.
Another fun aspect was seeing the wild animals. I heard what this animal is called but I can`t remember now. There were a few around.

And, finally, I spotted the monos. I had been hearing the spider monkeys all day long kept looking for them, but only came upon them at the end of a long, hot, sweaty day. They`re best seen in the wee hours of the morning and I had the chance to take a 3 AM shuttle to ensure sightings but opted out for obvious reasons. Anyway, voila, there they were. I saw at least a dozen eating berries in the trees and spitting them out. Now I know what the plunking sound is that I`d also been hearing.

Hard to snap them as they`re busy little creatures, swinging from tree to tree. One of them threw a branch at me, but I don`t think it was intentional since there were still berries on it.

Furry tree. I didn`t take a tour so don`t know anything else.

After Tikal I took a shuttle with other tourists to Cobàn. This photo shows a raft since there`s no bridge in one area. The cattle in the orange truck ended up beside us on the raft. Never in my life have I seen animals that packed together, solidifying my ideals that vegetarian is the way to go.

The 5-hour scenic ride is a bit more expensive than a bus, but filled with tourists and much more comfortable. The down side is the fact that there are frequent highway robberies on this stretch of road. I heard a few personal accounts even. Safety or comfort? I took a risk as per usual. This shuttle also has extra locks on the doors.
Speaking of animals. The driver gave a ride to some kids (they`re always doing that on the side... glad tourists are good for efficiency sake) who got off prior to our destination. The family who had seen them off had put some oddly-shaped bags on top and we discovered when they were coming off that one such bag had a pig inside. It had been riding on top all that way. It wasn`t moving much so not sure if it survived. Never eating pork again.

Anyway, no robberies or anything THAT exciting has happened to me. Call me lucky. And I wouldn`t take away that uncomfortable bus ride either. It was far too interesting and great Spanish practice for me.

This butterfly was in the bathroom in my hostel in Cobàn. A giant cockroach also flew out of my backpack.

En la Camino de Guatemala

2008-05-06T10:45:00.003-06:00

It´s not going to be easy to write tonight. I just discovered that I lost my flashcard with all my travel photos on it. I erased my camera memory card already because I´m stupid. There were some fab shots on there so I´m going to have to start writing extra special stuff to make up for the lack of visual aids. I had already put on a couple of photos and the rest I pilfered from the blog of my friend, Sara from Seattle, http://www.saraguatemala.blogspot.com/, who I´ve been traveling with this week.

After 4 weeks of spanish classes, I was ready to see more of Guatemala. This crater lake, formed 85 thousand years ago, is surrounded by three volcanoes and a few small villages, some only accessible via lancha (12-seater boats). I started out in San Pedro, famous for cheap language schools, hippies, and buddhas meditating by the lake, however the $5 room also came with a strong odour of manure which was drying across the street and a continuously-barking dog. Without much contemplating I changed direction and went to another village on the lake.

Jaibalito was super fabuloso. The photo shows how it`s built into the side of the mountain. Lots of stairs to climb, although I didn`t complain when I saw how they have women labourors hiking up and down the 100 or so stairs, with bags of sand for a solar-energy system they`re putting in, all day long. I guess the men are `skilled workers` so the important jobs are saved for them.

Despite the other tourists, all American couples... some of which were quite loud & obnoxious, I was able to get some quality time reading in hammocks, kayaking, and swimming. It really was a piece of heaven with great food. It reminded me a bit of the Shushwaps in British Columbia, but without the loud boats and jet skis. You should see my photo of the humming bird.... ay yai yai.

I came across this Mayan women and young girl on a hike to another village near where I was staying, and again upon my return with yet, other stacks of wood. She`s just so little and I wanted to help her carry some. I asked her in Spanish and she replied in whatever Mayan language (I think) with a tooth-less laugh. It all sounded like blah blah blah... I guess to her as well

After a few days in paradise... one can really lose track of time there... I went to Antigua, the once capital city of Guatemala until it was flattened by an earthquake. Anitgua, which actually means old, couldn´t be more different than the rest of the Guatemala I´ve seen so far. It´s got a European feel, with cobble-stoned streets, old churches, ruins to wander in, colonial buildings, restaurants and tiendas (stores or shops) that actually have permits displayed and didn´t seem like you were in someone´s house, and not once did I see a stray dog. It´s also more expensive, but still affordable for a rica Canadian.

Most restaurants and hotels/hostels open up to beautiful court yards and gardens inside. I stayed in an old convent because I liked the idea of living where the nuns live. I bet they didn´t have to deal with a noisy disco next door though. This arch was built for them so they could cross the street without being seen. I would have loved that part, particularly before my morning coffee. Antigua hosts a lot of tourists and there are Spanish schools all around, surrounding a well-used central parque. All in all a cool place to hang out and eat well.

Near Antigua I went on a guided-hike up to Volcano Pacaya, looking ravishing while sweating to death. Pacaya`s been erupting slowly for the past two years. At the top, the heat coming from below my feet was hard to bear. One stupid girl, more stupid than me, wore plastic `crocs` which subsequently melted. A smarter French-Canadian guy brought angelitos (marshmellows) to roast. On the descent, one over-zealous tourist (need I say the nationality?) got a bit close to some huge rocks and they came falling down on him.

I met Sara from Seattle in Guatemala City. We took a first-class bus, which would put Greyhound to shame, to Livingston on the Carribean coast where it meets the Rio Dulce, in the hopes of ´getting our Garfuna on´. We managed to find a nice hotel with the best banana pancakes in the world. I had them three days in a row. Unfortunately, that was the upside to Livingston. I had anticipated African drums and happy, colourful people smiling and dancing all around. In truth, the people were indifferent except for the agressive ones trying to sell us lanchas or their handi-crafts.

The only real activity we could find was a 5 km beach walk to Seven Altars Waterfalls. Not sure I´ve ever seen a beach this dirty, with pampers washing ashore, pigs and chickens roaming about, and the locals going on about their business and ignoring the gringas despite our warm ´Buenas Dias´ greetings. Possibly they only speak Garifuna? And, damn, it was hot! The waterfalls at the end weren´t actually falling due to it being the dry season, but there was a nice refreshing pool to cool off in. On the way back we stopped at the only nice part of the beach with a hotel and restaurant where and had the best margarita of my life. I like the palapas... most contain hammocks. Me gusta hammocks.

Livingston wasn´t all that bad. Had a couple of good meals, including Tapada, made with shrimp, white fish, plaintains, coconut milk, and other spices that make it delicious. I didn`t like that they kept the fish heads on though. Also enjoyed cena (dinner) at a backpackers place next door where we met some cool, worldly people. I had a French/Spanish/English all mixed up conversation with a couple from the South of France after a few beer. They now think I`m stupid, too. The owner had just been electrocuted so there was also the excitement of his hospital(s) experience. I don´t recommend needing medical attention in Guatemala. Good news as I last heard he´s on the mend.

Thirty minutes from Livingston via lancha we went to a hostel in a real jungle, Finca Tatin, along the Rio Dulce. Nice atmosphere with a big common room to play games or lay around in hammocks. I`m in love with the swing chairs. The best part was the family-style cena where we were served a family-style, delicious meal. It´s a great way to meet the other guests. The accomodations were quite rustic... we had to patrol for spiders and other enormous insects, which I`ve never seen the likes of, in our bungalow prior to using the bathroom or going to bed. A girl the day we arrived got stung by a scorpion. Someone took a picture and it had baby scorpions on it`s back. My nephews would LOVE it there. We went on a night walk to a cave where I somehow managed to find myself at the end of the line on the way back, turning around I couldn`t see a thing but I FELT eyes upon me. Not scared at all.

I actually surprised myself by not being too freaked out by all the bugs, but, seriously, did you know cockroaches could fly? One was so big and flying around that some of us (not only me) actually thought it was a humming bird.

Sara, not quite as brave as me, made me tuck her net in when she went to bed. It sucked when we had to get up to go pee.

A day of kayaking with some guys staying Fincan Tatin took us on a beautiful nature journey to a Biotopo reserve which has several lagunitas in which to float around the mangrove forest. I was trying to spot a crocodile or an endangered manatee, which a woman we met said were plentiful in the area, but no luck.

Fishing is the pretty much the only source of income for the 19 families of the Centro Cultural Mayan Qèqchi community where we stopped for lunch, which by the way only served cerveza and agua. There are also eco-tourism programs going on as well. They have a church and a one-room school for 50 children.

We spoke to these niños and their mom who was working at the restaurant. They learned Spanish in school and were quite happy to share as much as our bad spanish could comprehend, while showing off a book they had. They love school and go every day except for Sunday when they go to church.

There are several like communities in the area. Most were displaced in the 40`s and 50's when they were forced to move there by the government. It`s no wonder they are struggling so much, but it`s nice to see the efforts of all the NGO`s helping them self-sustain with arts and crafts, agriculture, and even paper made from banana leaves or corn husks.

The many varieties of birds, frogs, and plants, particularly all the water lilies, made for an interesting and serene trip. I love immersing myself in nature this way, although the peace wore off a bit on the way home since we ended up going against the current and wind.

Seven hours hours and badly burnt knees later we made it back, stopping for a dip in the natural hot springs along the way. My arms felt like they were going to fall off. A sauna and river swim helped with the pain and I appreciated the hammocks all the next day even more.

GOOD NEWS! A guy just came by and gave me my flashdrive which must have dropped out of my bag earlier. Phew!

Something I couldn`t get enough of was watching the locals go by on their cayukos, skinny wooden boats. They make rowing look so easy and how can the edge be so close to the water? Sometimes they`re fishing or it`s a mom with her kids, and some are commuting to school or work. I could just sit in a swing chair and watch all day long. In fact, I did.

Here`s my humming bird.

These chicos in their cayuko encouraged me to take a photo then gave me the finger, laughing hysterically as they floated by. Boys will be boys!

Volcanoes, lagoons, and Rio Dulce national park... Ilsa recommends.

Café Finca de Santa Anita

2008-04-20T12:41:00.020-06:00

This past weekend I went with some friends to southwestern Guatemala for a tour of an organic, Fair Trade coffee finca (plantation) which is run by a community of ex-guerillas.

The eco-tour was hosted by the NGO, Cafe Conciencia - http://www.cafeconciencia.com/. I can´t say enough about how great this tour was. Not only did we enjoy the beautiful nature in the tropical forest and learn how coffee is grown and processed, we heard the stories of some of the community members.

After the civil war, many of the guerrillas were displaced, left without any money or option for survival. These community members banned together and, because of the peace accord, were able to get a loan to purchase this land (about 1000 acres?) in 1998. The coffee finca had been abandoned for eight years prior to the purchase so it took a full year just to wack the weeds away and initiate an infrastructure with which to live. They had no electricity or water. Actually, to date they are still without adequate water.

This is Anna from Café Conciencias, and Teresa, who guided us on the hike. During the war, Teresa´s father was killed by the government based on a false accusation. She and her mother were living in a refugee camp in Honduras when she decided to join the guerrillas at age 14, staying eight years until the end of the war.

She now has her own family and she, along with 32 other families, run this cooperative. They all come from different backgrounds and areas, speaking five different languages.

Have you ever...? It was all I could do not to pick him up and put him in my pocket. So cute.

We came across this hard-working niño with mom (carrying a baby on her back) and brothers, happily hauling wood up a hill.

There´s a primary school on the property and they all go, but help out with the finca in the afternoons. In reality, the chance for these children to actually complete high-school is only 4%.

At roughly 1000 feet, the location has the ideal climate and fertility for bountiful crops. However, without the technical knowledge and various other factors, it isn´t producing to it´s potential and they´re falling short each year.

There is daily, intensive labour, even though harvest is only in September through December, due to constant weeding, pruning, etc... all by hand and with machetes. The coffee plants need just the right amount of shade so there are numerous plant varieties throughout the finca, including bananas, sold locally, and other kinds for wood (fuel) and wood (construction), amoung others I can´t remember at this point. Mucho mas información.
One can almost see the active volcano, Santa Anita through the mist. We were lucky not to get caught in the daily rainfall, but it was certaily hot and humid while we hiked. But, aaaah, the clean air was refreshing after breathing all the exhaust fumes of Xela the past month.

We got the chance to cool off a bit in the waterfall.

Luis, a mild-mannered and gracious community member, gave us the low down on their history and current struggles. He joined the rebels when he was 20 and, since he had left his family without any contact, after the war he was too embarrassed to return to them with nothing to offer.

He gave us an account of how they got to where they are today. None of them had any expertise, only a great desire to survive. With some help from the Red Cross, initially, and other organizations, they feel fortunate as they are better off than most like communites. However, the grace period for the loan is up and they are supposed to start repaying, with 12% annual interest, on the property which seems to have been over-valued at about US $270,000. They´re currently in negotiations with the government over it.

They have a long road ahead. Costs for organic certification and Fair Trade are extremely great and the Fair Trade price, although still slightly above market value, has not not increased for the past seven years. One way they are trying to get past some barriers is to roast and sell the coffee themselves via the NGO´s website, http://www.cafeconciencia.org/4FTCoffee.html. I recommend it. Because the Fair Trade standards are high, only the good beans are selected, it´s organic, etc. I saw it. I tried it. It´s delicious. Anyway, it´s $10, half of the cost goes toward shipping and the rest for them.

As you can tell, I was really impressed with this tour. They were so forth-coming when answering our questions and, in an under-stated way, were gracious hosts. I admire all the avenues they are taking to keep their cooperative going and their appreciation for all they´ve managed to achieve so far. This day will stay with me for many years to come.

Later that night, with what little energy I had left after a week of salsa dancing, spanish lessons, and a long hike, we took in a ´futbol´ (soccer) match.

Rams = Chivas español.

The Xelaju (shay-la-who) team was playing a Guatemala city team, their biggest rivals.

We chose to not sit in the hooligan (cheap) seats, but found our expensive $6-seat section rather subdued. There was a wind band, and vaious call outs ike ´punta´, ´vamos Super Chivas´, `aye aye aye`, not to mention the palabras malo (bad words) which the lady in front of us pointed out when we were trying to imitate them.

Unfortunately, the Super Chivas, lost. We could see the rival fans dressed in white, cheering all they could, from a distance. They were enclosed behind fences in a small section to prevent riots.

For me, the best part of the game for was watching the vendors. We saw everything from pots of piña (pineapple) to large boxes of Domino´s pizza. My favorite were the guys selling little bags of nuts. They were carrying massive tongs and holding out one little nut with them for sampling purposes. Ya never get to sample Planters.

And have you ever seen a vendor carrying confectionary items on her head?

Finca tours and futbol games, Ilsa recommends!

Español and Guatemaltecos

2008-04-16T16:15:00.003-06:00

So here I am still in Guatemala... not yet able to say much in Español, but having an adventure of a lifetime.

I love the colours and simplicity of the markets. I`m not wild about seeing (and smelling) the dead chickens and meat, but the fruit is a real treat. It`s super cheap and delicious. The other day I bought a watermelon for less than a dollar and two canteloup for 50 cents.

Other than fruit and veggies, the food overall isn`t great, especially compared to Mexican food. The tortillas and dishes in restaurants are kind of bland. However, I manage to eat avocados, corn on the cob, and beans pretty much everyday. Yummy!

Through school, I found some gringo friends to tour with. They`re all younger and fitter than I am so keeping my wind is a constant stuggle.

We came across this guy on the way down from one such grueling hike. These people are so little and cute I can`t stand it!!

Lago Chicabal was formed however many thousand years ago by a volcano. The nearby volcano is still active and, according to another tour group, we just missed seeing it erupt when we got to the view point. By that time the fog had rolled in, but it burned off later so that we could see the holy lake (while catching my wind). There are several prayer points around it and the Mayans consider it to be sacred. Going in it is completely forbidden. Every so often we came across flowers, that I assume were used in prayer service. (The guides here aren`t very good so none of us know for sure).
It looked a little like places I`ve seen near the rocky mountains of Canada, but there was a certain mystism here. I tried not to think of the hike back up the hill while taking in the peace and serenty of the lake.

A school tour of the cemetary proved to be very colourful. From a distance, it looks like some type of amusement park, but up close one can see the affection given the multi-coloured tombs with a lot of hand-writing and flowers.

One famoso tomb is said to provide wishes of those who write their ideal marriage partner´s name on it. I didn`t have a name, but took a jab at writing on it anyway. God (and spanish-speakers) only knows who is inside.

In this part of the world, the Mayan dress is more common than western dress, particularly for women. Some of the weaving is absolutely beautiful. And they truly do walk with loads of stuff on their heads or within blankets on their backs. I`m still in awe everytime I see them, which is every five minutes of so. Especially so when they carry huge loads of wood on their backs, along with a machete, coming up a steep hill that I can barely hike empty-handed. They must have the strongest legs in the world.

Now this is farming. I have yet to see a tractor in any of these fields. Apparently the soil is quite fertile and one can always see the farmers labouring away with hand-tools or bare hands. It reminds me of being back home in Saskatchewan. Mom always had a big garden, however, the children weren`t working quite as hard as these ones seem to be. In fact, these people could even give MOM a run for her money!

Chicken buses and pickup trucks are the main methods of transportation in this area. I can`t say they`re very comfortable, but it`s certainly an authentic experience to be squished up against a local with her baby in a blanket on her back. I haven`t actually seen any `chickens`on the bus, but there is a lot of everything else.

The upbeat latin music is always going strong and it`s impossible not to have fun. Today, I watched the ticket collector exit the front door, while we were in full motion, and come in through the back exit so as to let some of us out at the next stop. Very efficient.

We built another partial stove a couple weekends ago. The family was lovely and greeted us with buns and a rice tea (can`t remember the name of it...uti?) and later provided a delicious meal of soup, squash, carrots, potatoes, corn, and fruit juice. They seemed to go all out for us, which makes me wish I could do much more for them. Education and doctors would be nice.

After our less-than-three-hours of work was completed, seven of us `gringos` took 54 kids and parents in two microbuses (10 seater vans) to a ´hotsprings` an hour away. Some of the kids didn`t even get in the water, and most appeared to not be able to swim. The place actually seemed to be used more for bathing than for swimming. People there were all scrubbing eachother and watching us out of the corner of their eyes. It`s possible that it was where they go to bathe once per week.

I find most of these Guatemalans quite reserved, particularly compared to other latin americans I`ve met. They are kind, but not overly friendly. However, the niños seemed to really appreciate the cheetos we passed around while heading home.

To the market we go. Zunil was actually just a stop to catch a pickup after we were dropped off by the chicken bus on the way to beautiful Fuentes Georginas. The ride was mystical and I seriously can`t remember the last time I`ve been in the back of one... probably at my ´Parnitsky´ cousins´ farm in Saskatchewan, but with more hills and a less crazy driver.

My buddy, Sara (who also skipped out on her host family and joined me on the hostel) enjoying the idyllic springs Fuentes Georginas. This is a really nice spot and hard to believe it`s only half an hour from Quetzaltenango with the lush jungle-like setting.

A partial view of Xela (Quetzaltenango) with other gringos from my school. The deforestation makes it always seem overcast, but it was actually a pretty nice day. At the top of the hill we came across a park where locals were having barbeques, walks in the woods, and a children`s party with a piñata.

My real purpose for being here is to learn Spanish. It`s pretty challenging. Other phrases from different languages I`m familiar with kept popping out at first... like ´da` and ´excusez-moi´, but I`m starting to get the hang of it and, despite the headaches, it`s quite enjoyable.

My maestro, Mario, in the back of the pickup. He truly rocks. He`s the only person that I can converse with in Spanish, so far. It`s really fun, at least for me. Mario says his second name is `paciencia´ and I`ve witnessed that to be true.

Quetzaltenango, although rugged, certainly knows how to cater to tourists. There are at least 50 spanish schools here and numerous places to eat and sleep. I got really lucky with a beautiful hostel for $10 per night. They even provide robes and change the sheets. There`s a room with gorgeous, big plants and birds where I can do my homework.

This city is highly elevated so it doesn`t seem to get too hot during the day and cools off quite a lot at night, keeping me pretty comfortable. There are frequent earth tremors, I think I heard 4.6 of one that woke me up one morning. Kind of freaky, but cool. I`m told they don`t do much damage and the locals don`t seem to be concerned. Better than civil war, I guess.

Will finish off lessons at the end of this week and do some more exploring of Guatemala. I`m off to a salsa lesson now. Hasta luego!

Building Stoves

2008-03-29T17:49:00.023-06:00

There are numerous volunteer projects here in Guatemala. One that interested me was a building stoves, so I went with Dave from Vernon, Canada, who I met at my hostel. He and his wife recently retired and came straight away to volunteer. They´ve been working with this wood stove project over the past couple of months. We picked up a couple of university students enroute to a Mayan village near Momostengo, about a two-hour ´chicken bus´ride from Xela, where I´m staying.

This village is located at 9000 feet. On the way from the main road, through the woods, we walked about a km toward the village. We came upon the women washing clothes in a stream. The beautiful traditional colors of their clothes made the whole scene look pretty spectacular. Very sureal.

These people are standing in front of the kitchen. There are about 4 buildings, none completely enclosed and two made only of wood, including a tiny outhouse which is the cleanest baño I´ve seen since YYC in Calgary.
The kitchen is so smoky one can hardly breath. The kids all have watery eyes. Apparently there are a lot of respitory illnesses, not suprisingly. Thus the need for a stove. There are plenty of these stoves being built around here. A women´s group determines the order for most needy family and it gets built in three stages. Dave and Kathy have built about 15 of them so far.

The families are producing like rabbits. Last week there was a funeral for a woman who died of aids, only a few months after her husband. The five children are going to be taken care of by an uncle who already has seven of his own.

I got started right away by mixing clay with a stick, then eventually my hands. The kids all joined in. It was chaos, but fun!

The older children speak Spanish, but the younger ones who don´t attend school yet only speak K´iche´. At the moment, I´m struggling pretty hard with Spanish, however, gestures go a long way and latinos seem to have a lot of patience and humour, which helps a lot.

Teresa helped to cook our lunch. There was sweet milky tea, muchos tomales, and a nicely flavored soup with onions and pork. You can see two ´live´pigs in the corral past Teresa.

Otto is a little shy in front of the camera, but he loved to help mix the clay and cement.

I´m not actually certain if he is part of this family of eight or not. It´s quite a close-knit community and people were wandering in and out to check things out.

We finshed the 3rd stage in three hours. Nicholas will treat it for the next week or so, and likely fix our mistakes, then the family will wait a month for the clay inside to harden completely. Then, voila! They have a stove with ventilation, instead of smoking themselves out. They will also use half the amount of wood to keep it going and have heat for the winter and cool nights.

The family was very appreciative and I feel so fortunate to be part of this project. In fact, I´m going back this Saturday once again.

Building stoves... Ilsa recommends!

Hola de Guatemala

2008-03-22T13:38:00.019-06:00

So I´m on the road again. Terri and Copper saw me off at Calgary airport. It was difficult to leave, knowing baby Copper will grow so much by the time I see her again. Boo hoo.

I arrived in Quetzaltenango, or Xela, on Tuesday. It was a long journey, with two transfers, a five hour bus ride, and a two-hour walk with my incredibly heavy backpack, trying to find a banco to change my dollars to Quetzals so I could get a taxi. Ah the joy of traveling. I am still nursing blisters.

My purpose here is to learn some Spanish and maybe do some volunteering before I head off for more exploring of Central and South Americas.

My host family is very friendly and accomodating. Their father, who has since passed, ran a piñata factory. One of the brothers took it over and there are a few being manufactured at home. This was my first sight upon entering the house.

Señora is a really good cook, although I had a bit of trouble choking down the meals with everyone watching me so intently. That and the unfriendly odour....

As far as I know, in the house lives Helen, who is a teacher at my school, her brother (with special needs, but I don´t think he gets them), Bwendy, who is four (her mother, a friend of the family, lives in Guatemala city and comes back and stays on weekends), Señora, who runs a small confectionary shop at the front of the house and keeps the house in order, and two men who board. They both left their wives several years ago. We all share a bathroom.

It´s Santa Semana (Holy Week) so there have been many processions with dreary music and hand-held floats. They were various ones on Thursdays and on Good Friday, they went on for ten hours, with the floats becoming more and more grand. By evening, there were thousands of people gathered around central park to watch or participate.

Holy incense! cough cough

At night everything was lit up with candles. It was quite spectacular. I didn´t bother taking pictures since my camera is no good at night.

I took the opportunity to skip out on the family while they were out and found a hostel. I feel bad about it as they are so nice, but the place was grossing me out mucho mas. I´ll have to pay extra for accomodations, but luckily, things are pretty cheap here for us gringos.

I´m going to miss Bwendy helping me with my pronunciation..

This is Central Parque on Saturday. I´m waiting to see what events and traditions the anniversary of Jesus rising brings to town. Hopefully it will be less strenuous on procession participants.

Happy Easter... hasta Luego!

'Tis the Season for Remembering Summer

2008-01-07T11:34:00.000-07:00

There's nothing like shoveling snow to make ya wish you were still on summer vacation.

Back in August 2007, m friend, Emma, found us some cheap flights to Bilbao from London (oops... I'll post that one later).
I didn't really know what to expect of Bilbao, other than it was in Spain and they have a pretty good football (soccer) team. I was immediately impressed. Bilbao centre is lovely, with beautiful colonial buildings, ultra-modern transit system, and great shopping. After talking to some locals we discovered it was revamped a few years ago and now has some very strict bylaws to keep it clean. In fact the street washers were constantly going up and down them, chasing the pedestrians (like me) out of the way with their spray.
We learned very quickly that there is a vast difference between Spain and Basque country. On our first night we met a German, who who works in the area. Hospitable, as per most Germans, he treated us to the tradition of going from one tapas bar to another, kind of like a pub crawl. We sampled delicious tapas, or pintxos in Basque, zurritos (small glasses of beer), and txikito (red wine). Pintxos/tapas are appetizers such as olives and cheeze or fried squid served on a piece of bread.

The last tapas bar we ended up at kept us there all night. They taught us that they speak Basque before Spanish and enforced upon us their best food and drink. We were served a platter of nutty ham (apparently the pigs are fed on acorns). It was unbelievably delicious. I was making up for lost time in Russia, where the food wasn't so great. In fact, it was so damn tasty that I ate it all myself (Emma's a vegetarian), while the bar tender kept my 'txikito' full. Completely satiated, we stumbled home at dawn. An hour later, the after affects of my over-indulgence (gluttony) set in. To this day, I cannot look at ham without feeling sick. Since every tapas bar has rows of ham hung out on top of the bar, the reminder of that night stayed with me throughout the week.

Apart from eating and drinking, we also checked out the Guggenheim museum, designed by Canadian-born Frank Gehry. There's some pretty funky modern art exhibited inside, but I was more impressed with the building, which was designed to mold into the landscape.

The next day we headed to San Sebastian, a couple hours further east along the coast.

Contrary to Henry Higgins and Eliza Doolittle, the rain in Spain does not stay mainly on the plain, but we did manage to get a half day of sun on the beach. There's a fair amount to do there anyway, such as museums, day trips, spas, and, of course, tapas bars.

This one was below our hotel room. People were singing on the street all night.

There's still a strong ETA presence here. Our guidebook warned us what coffee shops to avoid, and we noticed a constant replenishment of fresh stickers on buildings marking their territory.

A few days later we took another bus trip to the heart of wine country... Logrono in La Rioja, where it continued to rain. We had high hopes of wine tasting, but discovered most of the winerys around were closed and the few that were open needed advance tickets. Bad timing, it was holiday week. We still managed to find cheap, good wine, and good eats.

The Camino de Santiago, also known as Way to St. James, passes through this city. This pilgrimage has existed for over a thousand years. Santiago is supposedly the buriel site of the apostle, James the Great. We saw plenty of pilgrims with their walking sticks and pilgrim passports, allowing them cheap, or sometimes free, accommodation and food. Once they've travelled 100 km and have proof of stamps and dates, they're entitled to Compostela, a certificate of completion. I'm not sure if that means these christians get to heaven quicker or not, but I just might try that one of these days.

My favorite part of this area was the people watching. Aside from the pilgrims, the sweet little old Spaniards were charming and seemed to have a pretty good social life. Although one day I was approached in an over-friendly manner (a lot of groping and kissing) by one supposedly sweet little old man while sitting at an outside cafe writing postcards. Fortunately, a grandmother pushing a little baby saved me. We had a great laugh and conversation afterward (not understanding eachother other than poco loco (a little crazy), referring to the old guy.
After this small dose of Spain, I so want to go back and see the rest of it. Ilsa recommends.

Vote and a Haircut

2007-12-02T02:31:00.000-07:00

Yesterday many Russians, over a course of 22 hours due to 11 different time zones, went to the polls to elect their state duma, the lower house. I had been asking my students all week if they planned to vote, but almost all of them had no intention. Many of them weren't originally from Moscow, so bureaucracy mixed with inconvenience was the deciding factor. Others simply felt their vote made absolutely no difference - not due to lack of good candidates, but because of supposed... how do I put this mildy... fraudulent election practices. I'm not sure all that was going on, but I do question the integrity of the Russian government as regards campaigning. My Russian friends/students who did vote all volunteered that they voted for parties which didn't win any seats.

I didn't see or hear a lot of advertising pre-election like we see at home, but I did spot an inconspicuous sign in an obscure area on the wall of a hotel (exactly the centre of Moscow next to red square). It says 'Moscow is voting for Putin!'

These same larger-than-life banners were covering bridges, etc. throughout Moscow and Putin's face is always on the television (state-run) when I waiting in the visitor's area of a student's office building.

Coincidentally, the president's party won by a landslide, with only the communist and pro-kremlin parties taking any seats. New rules made it manditory to have at least 7% in order to be accepted into parliament so seven other parties didn't get in at all.

To be honest, I don't know much about politics, and even less about Russian politics, but there doesn't seem to be much democracy going on here. It's like they make up the rules as they go along.

I haven't heard how many of the 100 million potential voters actually voted, but apparently there were some pretty good incentives... cheap food, coupons, doctors for medical advice, prizes, and even haircuts at some of the polling stations.

I also have no idea how the president will work in both the upper house and the lower house. Can he in be in two houses at once? None of my Russian friends can explain it either, but the upcoming presidential election in March should make for some interesting Moscow Times reading during the cold winter months ahead. And there should be no excuse for uncut hair.

The Eternal City

2007-10-17T08:09:00.000-06:00

Last month I finally had my Roman holiday. Already in love with Italy from last summer's visit to Tuscany, this is one city I had been dying to see and it didn't disappoint.

The spectacular architecture, amazing art, and warm climate was even better than I had expected. However, my main reason for wanting, no NEEDING this weekend away, was to eat.

Since the moment my friend, Elmira, mentioned going to Rome, my taste buds started to tingle. I tried to starve myself for two days prior to departure in order to make room for all the cheese and gnocchi and pizza. It didn't really work... I couldn't be satiated. I ate every meal as it were my last supper. I even ate extra meals. Just writing it about now is making uncomfortably hungry (I guess I could have some dill-covered sushi from around the corner). Seriously, the food is amazing. I probably gained an extra 15lbs to my girlish figure and knew it was happening but kept telling myself 'when in Rome...'

Elmira's friend, Pavel, who almost missed the plane (it takes longer to get to the airport in Moscow from home than it does to get to Rome) in front of the Colosseum.

I like angels - they're everywhere in the Vatican museum.

This is outside of St. Peter's Basilica. The queues were crazy. We waited almost three hours to see the museum and then another lineup to get into the Basilica. All that waiting and pointless picture taking caused my camera battery to run out. But take my word, it's a must see when in Rome.

In the centre is Michelangelo's 'Creation of Man'. Here, in the Sistine Chapel, they were making announcements over loud speakers not to take photos, but no one was listening. It's a pity there was such chaos with all the tourists in this sacred place. I managed to find a place to sit quietly (once I put my camera away) and gaze up at the beautiful ceiling and walls.

Elmira and I made our wishes in

Trevi fountain. Legend has it that if you toss a coin behind your back, you'll return to Rome. This fountain, constructed in 1762, holds water from a 19th Century BC aqueduct bringing water from 20 km away.

I went there three times during the weekend and it was always packed with people - day or night. Luckily, I enjoy people watching, too.

I probably went into 20 churches over the course of the weekend. They're everywhere, along with other ancient buildings and and partial buildings. Just walking around is a pleasure.

One of the most interesting and most preserved buildings is the Pantheon. I think it was rebuilt sometime in the 1st century (unfortunately, I was missing my Lonely Planet this time). The construction of this building completely baffles me. I know there's a hole in the ceiling and tiny holes in the floor for drainage. I think you should just go to Rome and see it for yourself. In fact, I think I'll go, too. This city is special and the Italian people are warm and lovely as ever. Thank God for the delicious food they make. Ilsa recommends!

Happy Thanksgiving Canada!

2007-10-07T12:25:00.000-06:00

There's no equivalent to Thanksgiving in Russia that I'm aware of, but Moscovites had been enjoying a beautiful Indian Summer up until last week when it started raining like mad.
The Russian name for this fabulous weather is 'babeih leto' which kind of means 'women's summer', but the woman is a pre-teen'. Outside of Moscow, they call it 'Golden Summer'.

My friend, Elmira, took me to a new park where a palace has been constructed in honor of Catherine the Great. Apparently she had commissioned one on these grounds back in her day, but was unhappy with the construction and ordered a halt to it. A couple more attempts had been made to complete it with no success. Last month, they finally finished these unique pieces of architecture and it's now the most beautiful place in Moscow (not so much by the architecture as the surroundings). The rest of Moscow decided to check it out the same weekend so we were stuck in traffic for two full hours enroute.

It certainly was nice to get out and enjoy the nature though. At the moment Park Tsaritzino is clean and green and lacks the garbage we see everywhere else in this city.

I took a peek inside the castle and saw a chandelier the size of Saskatoon... typical Russian style... over the top!!

Last weekend I found my new favourite place to shelter myself from the rain. It's a very expensive mall with an average-priced food court and no people. Seriously, no one knows about it yet. My friend Faith and I checked it out last Saturday. There were rows of ready-to-serve places with friendly clerks and no customers. Only us. We tried out the Uzbekistan/Mexican grill. Quite tasty, although could do with more spice. The shops are nice enough to look at - one could buy a sporty toque for $40 or a nice pair of shoes for $750. I bought a kiwi in the expensive grocery store for $5. Yummy.

I helped Faith move into her new old flat. I wonder if a turkey would fit into this this 'cooker'.

Hope you're all having a wonderful Thanksgiving. Also Happy Birthday to Mom, Clem, Auntie Hilda, and Happy Anniversary Chandra & Clem... hope I'm not missing anyone.

More Moscow Madness

2007-09-09T12:26:00.000-06:00

To my loyal readers I deeply apologize for my long absence. I'm back in crazy Moscow and life is... well, crazy. I haven't finished reporting on my summer vacation, but I'll get back to that when things slow down a bit.

Let me start with my return to the Ruskie land in mid-August. It was unbearably hot... I can honestly say that I perspired less in the banya than I did my first week back, particularly in the metro. Just imagine the smell… some people here have yet to pick up on the marketing of hygiene products. But no real complaints since I was finally getting some good weather after trying to hide from the rain all summer long.

I was optimistic about an easier stint this time round since I'm much older… I mean wiser and had learned so much last year. I mean I can even order water without being asked to repeat... 'vuda bez gaza' which means 'water without gas'... no need for please and thank you in this country.

At the airport I was once again picked up by a non-English-speaking guy, who I didn’t recognize. He did have my name ‘Liza Hux’ written on a piece of cardboard. The old beater we drove off in, also with no recognizable features which might have confirmed his authority, stalled twice on the 2-hour journey to my new flat.

I had absolutely no idea where I was. Thank God the last occupant had left a map inside so I could finally verify that I was still indeed in Moscow, and find my way to the centre.

It was a great first week. I had only a two classes in a nice air-conditioned office building and spent the rest of the time hanging out with friends. I was optimistic that this year was going to be great and easy and fun.

I was also very excited about hosting my first Moscow visitor. Jocelyn, who has graciously given me free reign at her home in the Netherlands several times, was coming to town. I was a wee bit apprehensive, though. Would she feel the same culture shock I first felt. Could I make her comfortable enough so that she wouldn't remember how horrible the streets are between the metro stop and my home?

But then I became distracted by the strange, tiny bumps all over my face and neck. I thought surely it must be a serious bacteria infection of some kind. The doctor assured me it was only an allergic reaction to something which came out in this unique way due to my profuse perspiration on the metro. To my horror, I found the cause a couple of days later... bed bugs... the kind that suck your blood while you sleep. The school sent someone to 'spray' the apartment, but none-the-less, I took Jocelyn straight to a hotel upon her arrival. Besides making her more comfortable, it would give me time to psych myself up for dealing with it after the weekend. Despite this, we had a fun and action-filled weekend.

We helped Moscow celebrate it's 860th birthday. I love it when they close the streets to cars.

My good friends, Vladimir and Elmira, gave us a driving tour of Moscow, pointing out important architecture and facts such as the bridge where 'people go to jump off and be dead'. Later we ate and drank our fill of delicious, authentic 'Russian' cuisine in a Ukrainian restaurant.

We paid our respects to Yeltsin, along with Rostropovich, the world-famous cellist and conductor who recently passed (and negated my conservatory tickets last May), Gorky, along with many other famous Russians buried in the Novodevichy cemetery. You really have to be someone special to get a grave marker here.

We happened by the Grand Opening of Lotte Plaza, yet another hi-end shopping centre where the Moscovites can pay top dollar for designer goods such as Dolce & Gabbana or Dior. The Las Vegas style show, with a guy lip-syncing Frank Sinatra, was cheesier than Holland.

Mmmm 'Shashlik'... tastes the best when the chef drops his cigarette ashes on them.

Because I had to work the day Jocelyn left, I sent her to the airport in a Marshukta. It's like a bus, but you get to tell the driver where exactly you want to be dropped off. I never take them in Moscow without a Russian-speaking friend. I'm far too afraid of the strict procedure and close proximity to the aggressive driver. But this one was going to end up at the airport. I prayed it would be the correct airport.

Visiting me in Moscow? Ilsa recommends!

A Thousand Shades of Green

2007-08-25T08:25:00.000-06:00

A pleasant companion reduces the length of the journey. -Publilius Syrus

I found my pleasant companion at the Glasgow Airport one early July morning, just a couple of days after the attempted bombing. I was never so happy to see my sister. I had been feeling a wee bit homesick up to then; but, she quickly caught me up to date on all the happenings of back home while we ate a delicious and enormous breakfast.... so great to eat well again.

Friends of friends, who have since become our Scottish parents, hosted us and catered to our every whim in Port Glasgow, showing us the sights and amazing scenery, including Loch Lomond in the western lowlands of central Scotland. I still can't get that song out of my head... you take the high road and I'll take the low road and I'll be in Scotland before ye.... Chandra was a wee bit annoyed with my constant humming.

This was taken outside Inverary Castle. Chandra pointed out our Campbell tartan. She's done loads of genealogical research and has gone the furthest back in Scotland. Yep, we're Campbells... 10 generations or so ago??. For actual facts of any of the Scotland info I've given or about to give, check out my sister's blog - http://schraefel.blogspot.com/2007/07/scotland-part-ii.html
'I'm cold. Hug me.'
The weather was dreich (that's Scottish for sucky weather). However, all that moisture is certain to be good for the skin.
An exciting car ride took us from Glasgow to Edinburgh in just twice the amount of time it should have taken. I'm sure it had nothing to do with my driving, her navigating, or the roundabouts (traffic circles), but we made it safely... eventually. My pleasant companion was very brave to be the passenger (a few days later I had my turn - much scarier than driving on the left).
Edinburgh is very much worth the trip, though. It's beautiful and quaint with a grand old town... a place I'd love to revisit.

Andrew, a 5th? cousin and fellow family-tree researcher, took us on a customized tour of Edinburgh and a drink at the Last Drop... which name actually refers to 'last drop of life' since that's where they used to view hangings.

We took a highland tour one day... one very long day. The guide was scunnering, but the scenery fabulous. This is the castle outside of Loch Ness. No monster sightings, unless you count that guy taking a whiz into the lake.

Is it just me or does everyone see guys whizzing all over Europe?
Rosslyn's chapel, made famous in the Da Vinci Code movie is absolutely stunning. The visitors were entering non-stop and the guide told us that they were going to have to limit it after this season due to challenges with restoration challenges. Even with all the other people there, it was extremely peaceful and serene. My photos certainly don't do it justice. It's a must see!
We spent a lot of time wondering through cemetaries, castles, abbeys, churches, cemetaries, monasteries... did I mention cemetaries?

Love that Scottish thistle.

We found family! Nice to see some live ones for a change.

We popped by a 'Fisher' place just in time for dessert and felt immediately at home. They live near where we were staying in Newton Stewart, Southern Scotland.

The next day my new favorite person, cousin Ivie, took us around to meet more family. They're all farmers... like us!

I felt really sad saying good-bye to Ivie. He really did make us feel like we were home.

This abbey is located about a mile from my great-grandmother's home. It was really special to be there and easy to imagine what it was like for her as a young girl.

Chandra and I left the next day for England but we were both sad to be leaving and wished we had planned more time there. Aye! It's a bonny, bonny place.

Starting from Estonia

2007-08-08T14:34:00.000-06:00

Long time no write. I know. I've been busy... busy exploring more of Europe. I really love Europe, but I sure found it expensive after living on meagre teacher wages of late.

So I'll get started where I left off at the end of June... midsummer to be exact. After an all-nighter (which was weird since it never really got dark) in Helsinki with an American and some truly hospitable Finns, I hopped a Ferry to Tallinn, the capital city of Estonia.
Instantly charmed, I a spent a couple of days exploring the old town.

It was fun to get lost in the narrow, winding, cobbled streets. With less posh and glam of the Western European cities, Tallin, with it's 14th Century churches, is enchanting. It was also a pleasure to have customer service with a smile again, rather than a scowl.

Now an EU country, although they haven't changed from 'kroons' to 'euros' yet, it wasn't as cheap as I had thought it might be. Unfortunately, my newly published guidebook was completely out of sync with the true costs.

The tower walls have only one side intact, but a few other towers still form the outline of the old town.

Further exploring led me to Kuressaare on the island of Saaremaa. Upon arrival at the bus depot, it seemed I was the sole backpacker in on the deserted streets. Luckily, I bumped into Kristina, a Finnish migrant, who was looking for weary travelers arriving after the close of the Tourist Information office. She had a spare flat to rent. I was pleasantly surprised with the zen-decorated apartment and all the little creature comforts it offered inside... a great place to unwind.

Kristina, who is 61, independent, and beautiful, is a truly inspirational woman. I can't believe I didn't take her photo. At the moment, one of her jobs is a gym trainer at one of the resorts. She took me through an amazing work-out, which took me two weeks to recover from. Then she booked me the best massage of my life. Estonia is famous their therapeutic spas.

This majestic castle and moat make it easy to imagine this place as it was 500 years ago.

The island was off limits during the soviet era since it had a rocket base station and radar system so it limited industrial development. Now it's a charming, rural get-away for city dwellers. .. and me.

Wildflowers are everywhere. They seem to have been intentionally put around the borders of the grain fields and completely cover some grassy areas.

I rented a car to tour around, but it would be a great place to bicycle. Almost all the roads are paved, it's flat, and the signage is clear as a sunny day (not that I saw many of those this summer), with directions to every landmark possible. There were old wooden windmills, stone churches, meteor craters, giant beer mugs and 'cliffs'. The cliffs weren't so impressive... even I could dive off them, but for this flat, flat land I guess they thought it was worth a toot. It's amazing how vastly different this former soviet country is to another I know. Truly progressive and very tourist-friendly.

One night I camped on a beach - the camping is free, complete with firewood. Most spots were completely empty (maybe due to the rain??). The next night I slept in a hostel I found a few miles away because I was afraid camping alone, even though it barely got dark. This was taken around 2 AM. Can you see my swans?

More wildflowers... because they're pretty.

On the Road Again

2007-06-24T12:31:00.000-06:00

I completed my contract last week so I decided to continue my European tour. I had planned on going back in August so I stored some of my stuff with friends and set off. After leaving Russia, I'm now having to remind myself of why I want to live there. I must be crazy.
A few days in St. Petersburg showed me some beautiful architecture, historical sites, long queues, food poisoning, and the worst customer service you could ever imagine.

Visually, St. Pete's is more appealing than Moscow and one would think I'd be used to the poor customer service, but I think I just had enough of it. I couldn't wait to leave Russia.

I have to admit though that this is one hell of a fountain. Peterhoff, former summer palace of Peter the Great, has hundreds of impressive fountains and gardens. Lovely indeed. This one leads out to the Gulf of Finland.

Not enough to keep me in Russia, though. I took the fastest train out of the country with an overnight stop in Helsinki which confirmed I was back in civilization as I once knew it.

I'm in Estonia now and trying to forget that I'm missing yet another family wedding. I think I'll do something really crazy like rent a car. Stay tuned!

Moscow Metro

2007-06-17T02:29:00.000-06:00

I finally got around to taking a few photos of the infamous Moscow Underground. The first one is from a couple nights ago at 1:30 a.m.. That's why you can't see people, although right after I took this a guy got off the train and threw up. Common downside of the metro.

Each station is unique and some are quite beautiful. There are actually metro tours of the 'socialist realism' art... red stars everywhere. California Mike made it his goal to see each and every station, although I can't understand how he can possibly spend even more time underground.

I live in Meadvedkova, in the North East (top of the orange line). I've spent about the same traveling on the trains as I have physically teaching these past seven months.

Over 8 million people per day are said to use this system and it sometimes feels like you're all packed on one train. It can get pretty hot and uncomfortable, but there's no better place in the world for people watching. Although, I could do without the make-out sessions. It's like the liberal 70's just hit Moscow and everyone's 'doin' it' everywhere... in crude fashion.

Besides that, it seems to be a pretty efficient system. They have little ladies in grey pencil skirts and hats, carrying little red signs and blowing their whistles when guys are passed out and won't get out at the last stop. Because I live at a 'last stop' I see it every night. They often stumble across the aisle to the train going the opposite way. If they can't walk, the little lady gets help and they drag him off onto the platform.

God bless these transit workers. They have a lot to deal with and are able to keep these trains a runnin'. (who sang that? Johnny Cash?)

A Drink and a View

2007-06-15T16:11:00.000-06:00

It's Moscow, as seen from the Sky Lounge on the 22nd floor of the Academy of Science building.

I don't know who designed this strange looking building, as seen from the Moscow River, but someone described it as having a 'brain' on top. I'm guessing someone Chinese.

Emma took me for a very expensive caipirinha on my birthday, but we were enjoying the atmosphere so much that we started buying the cheapest thing on the menu... beer, of course, for only 200 rubles.

The lounge seems to be a secret from the Russians. None of my students knew about it and even my friend, another teacher, who studied for a year in the same building wasn't aware of the lounge.

Za vashe zdorovye!

School Days

2007-06-14T02:46:00.000-06:00

When I was home in March, Uncle Jack told me to write about the teaching, which is why I'm really here in the first place. Each night after class, I feel compelled to 'tell all' and the words are in my head when I'm walking home, but by the time I actually get home, usually around 11pm, I'm exhausted. Starting a new career, at a not-so-new age, in a new-to-me country has been quite a challenge.

I've made great strides at being effective from when I first started. I gained some confidence and most students appear to have made some progress, which is good since I really take it to heart when they don't 'get it' or even worse 'digress'.

It's been quite a challenge. I work long hours, often with split shifts. I spend way too much time on the metro - an hour to get to one of the schools where I work every night. Both satellite schools where I teach regular classes have very limited resources and I rarely see other teachers during the week.

On the flip side, it's incredibly rewarding. I suspect it's because most of my students are so motivated. When I hear their stories of having to commute two hours to work, some from low-paying jobs, and then attending costly English lessons three evenings a week, I get inspired to do a good job for them. They're so appreciative and some of them actually thank me for the lessons. (and believe me, all of my lessons were not good - I should be thanking them for letting me use them as guinea pigs). I certainly don't remember appreciating the efforts that any of my teachers put into planning lessons.
I only had one regular children's class, which has closed for the summer. From what I hear from the other teachers, I really scored with this group. Although once they hid behind the door of the classroom and jumped out, making me scream. They thought it was hilarious and I nearly had a heart-attack. They like that word... heart-attack. They brought it up at every opportunity afterward. The thing about teaching kids is they're so quick to learn. They don't even seem like they're trying, yet they remember. Like sponges. It's so hard to keep up with them.

On one of the first sunny days this year, they wanted to play a game outside. I racked my brain only to come up with 'Simon says'. They whipped through the game quite quickly so they asked if they could play a different game. I expected chaos but they carried on playing three more games that included the vocabulary they had just learned, as well as vocabulary from past lessons. Not only did they do it independently, they taught me some new games. They just amaze me. I don't even have to try. What's even better is that they think I'm cool. Apparently the Russian teachers are much more strict. They must appreciate having less authority.

Despite my love of children, I actually prefer teaching adults. I've learned so much about their culture and their perspectives about current and past events. The classes are quite small, my biggest being eight so it's easy to give them individual attention. If they get to be too small, the school asks them for more money to keep the class running in order to pay the teacher. Gulp! Not that I see much of it on my meagre wages. I guess that's the typical 'Russian' way.

I've taught levels from Absolute Beginner to Advanced and enjoy aspects of both. My first beginner class is almost finished their Elementary level and it's so fun to finally be able to have regular, well almost regular conversations with them.

They treat me good, too. I've had customized tours of the city, help with anything I need, including free (although illegal) internet, and copious amounts of well wishes on my birthday - text messages, phone calls, and gifts. However will I survive without all this attention later on? So despite all the crap I had to deal with here, it's resulted in not only some new skills, but a great experience and great new friends.

Teaching English in Moscow? Ilsa recommends.

The Dacha

2007-06-03T00:27:00.000-06:00

One thing that all of my students have in common is that they all have dachas. They go almost every weekend in the summer to their country homes, what I call a 'cabin' or a 'cottage'. Some retired folk live in them year round, if they're lucky enough to have heat and running water.

This past weekend my former student, Elmira, took me and Emma to her family's dacha. We were treated like royalty by her parents.

Their house is modest but the yard is quite big - 6 Sotok (600x800m) , with lovely plants and veggies... tomatoes, cucumbers, potatoes, and a greenhouse for herbs.

They know most of their neighbors. However, some, which have changed ownership, now contain mansions with giant fences. They're avoided due to 'suspicious activities'.

Elmira's sister, Gulia, is barbecuing sausages. Yummy!

Dacha's have been around for the select few since the 1700's, but in Soviet time an important duty of trade unions was to obtain the land for the dachas and distribute it among the members of the union in order for people to grow their own food. Since everyone then was a member of one or another trade union, every family had a chance to get the land. It was federal land until sometime after the collapse of the soviet union when it was offically signed over to the people. Now tens of millions of Russians, some who can barely afford to survive, are landowners.

Elmira's father, a Tatar, was so excited to have 'foreigners' visiting. He used to work for the ministry and said it's been a very long time since he had foreigners in his house. Elmira said he could only speak Russian, but, as the day progressed, there were more and more English words, perfectly pronunciated, mixed into his Russian.

Luckily, Emma can speak Russian so there wasn't the pressure of socialising with gestures... like an 'English' lesson. However, Elmira was constantly translating to ensure I didn't feel left out.. or maybe to practice her English.

This area has recently become a village, but there is still a lot of green space and a little river running through this park.

There were people having picnics, playing football, or just walking around the apple trees, like we were.

We came across the goat lady, reportedly a constant figure in this park. Her friend asked us for money when he saw I was taking photos but we pretended he was joking.

We stopped at the natural spring for some 'holy water'.

It was wonderful being around nature again and away from the crazy city. In fact, it was very much like being in a small Canadian town or at a cabin. The biggest difference, aside from the goat lady, is the reverence felt by the Russians about their country homes. They don't take them for granted.

Dachas are definitely not cabins... they are part of their culture. I hope they can sustain the test of time.

Birthdays

2007-05-31T12:29:00.000-06:00

May 31st is the start of birthday mania in my family. When I was very young, I celebrated on the same day as my older brother and sister since our birthdays were all within one week. I can only remember thinking is was great to have all these people around. I didn't really care who they were, although I'm sure my old.. ahem... older siblings weren't as interested in sharing the limelight.

Mom made fabulous cakes. Mine were always chocolate, as per my request, and they were elaborately decorated in dolls or cartoon characters and even a hockey game. After I started school, I got to have my own parties with many, many classmates and cousins. How did you do it, Mom?

The glorious sunny days I'm seeing here now, along with sightings of familiar things such as sparrows, mallard ducks, and lilac trees remind me of those special May/June days. I even spotted a black lab like our beloved 'Charlie' the other day.

So Happy Birthday Mark and Chandra. I hope you are surrounded by wonderful friends and family and that someone bakes you a delicious cake... especially because you won't be getting a gift or even a phone call from me this year!

Love ya xo

Speaking of chocolate, Russian chocolate is incredible. Here's the face of one of the companies. I could actually smell chocolate floating down the Moscow River the other day.

Moscow River

2007-05-27T22:42:00.000-06:00

It's still hot - mid 30's this week in Moscow. I hung around the Moscow River to keep myself cool. Here's a shot of the Kremlin.

We wanted to take a river boat ride on Friday but the boats were all reserved for the students finishing the school year. May 25th is annual date of finishing. All the students were partying on the boats and in the streets. They were easily identified by the red ribbons they adorned around their bodies. I like this tradition.
People just hanging out, eating ice cream near Red Square... it's the first time I've stepped barefoot on grass since I've been here.

The next day a bunch of us took the boat ride along the Moscow River, after waiting an hour and a half in a queue. It was worth it to feel the cool breeze and leisurely take in the sights. I can't believe how different the city seems after six months of navigating myself via the underground metro.

You can see an enormous Peter the Great statue behind the chocolate factory.

There are a few modern buildings popping up.

One of the Stalinist seven sisters, which are easily recognizable throughout the city. I think this one is just an apartment building but others contain more importance like Moscow State University and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

The Cathedral of Christ the Savior, where Yeltsin's funeral was held, was commissioned by Tsar Alexander to commerate Russia's victory over Napolean in1812, but it took over 40 years to build and was only consecretated in 1860, the day Alexander III was crowned.

Stalin demolished it in 1933 but a new one was rebuilt in the 1990's. There appears to be some current refurbishing going on which hasn't allowed me the opportunity to peak in yet. Not surprisingly, it's the largest Eastern Orthadox church in the world.

This original Russian space shuttle is now a ride at Gorky Park.

Back to Vdnx Park, Lenin is taking second place to 'Shrek and Fiona'.

Look! The fountains are working.

I was anticipating a difficult weekend for me as my heart was home in Canada. Cousin Don got married and I knew that all my family was together again and having a great time without me. Luckily, I have met some wonderful people here, and the weather and activities keep me laughing.

So congrats Don & Tracy - may your life together be as sunny and fun-filled as my Moscow weekends in May.

It's Hot

2007-05-21T06:56:00.000-06:00

I know that 31 degrees doesn't sound extreme, but for Moscow it's outrageously hot today... and humid. The past week it's seen the high 20's and I've been loving it, although at night it's too hot to sleep. It's also somewhat uncomfortable (and smelly) when an ice-cold shower is the only available means of cleansing... for me and the entire neighborhood.

On the first day of this heat wave, I found some free time before classes to take in a banya (Russian bathhouse). I couldn't wait to feel clean again. At first it was quite crowded and there were all these rules that my friend and I were apparently not adhering to. The other ladies were sure to let us know we must wear a hat or towel on our head, flip-flops, etc. before entering the sauna. I scoffed at the unsightly felt hat but once inside I could barely stand the heat. Thankfully I had rented a sheet. I also appreciated the 5-minute rule but could only take it for three on the first round.

It appeared to be all business for the Russian ladies... severe heat, dunk in ice-cold tub, exfoliate, rinse, mud pack, continuous scrubbing. Most interesting was the bunch of fresh birch twigs with leaves intact. They used these whisks to whip each other. Aaah the price of beauty. Once the crowd dissipated and I felt confident to carry on with the procedure, skipping the whisk bit, I quite enjoyed it. In fact, I'm going again on Friday. It seems to work for them - they're quite beautiful, with glowing skin.

With the warm weather last weekend, it was great spending time outside, sitting on patios or in parks and watching people just hanging out and enjoying the summer weather. This picture is Park Pobedy (Victory) in honour of WWII. It's the most modern-looking place I've seen in Moscow and the only decent park benches. May people were blading, skate boarding, or just walking along eating an ice cream cone.

Furs have been replaced with skimpy clothes and very high heels. You should have seen this girl trying to walk on this surface.

Strange to me is that no matter what the ladies are wearing, they always have on pantyhose.

On Sunday I revisited the Vdnkh exhibition park, which is near one of my schools. Grandiose pavilions representing each republic, used to showcase their products and technologies but now there are only shops (with as many imported toasters as you've ever seen in one place). Sadly, these massive buildings are very run-down and there appears to be a lot of wasted space in this 600 acre park.

I have yet to see the fountains working but I've been told by reliable sources that they're usually quite spectacular. This 'fountain of friendship' shows 16 maidens in the native dress of their soviet republic.
A couple of my students brought me back to VDNX Sunday night for some shashlik and beer.

We took in some rides at the amusement park and had the official Russian drink. Nope, not vodka. Kvass, believe it or not, which tastes like yeast, has so little alcohol that children drink it, too.

I bruised up my knee on the bumper cars. Even on rides, Russians are crazy drivers.

Parks and banyas on hot days... Ilsa recommends.

My Moscow Flat

2007-05-16T00:06:00.000-06:00

I prepared Mexican food for my party last weekend. Normally I like hosting but I'm not fond of this kitchen. It looks better than it is... and is better than it was before I got here, but it seriously stinks.
Luckily, one of the other teachers helped me out. She was leaving and wanted to get rid of all her food. Plus, she's from Texas so she knows what it means to cook 'Mexican'.

There were about 20 of us in my room, which doubles as the living room. I actually don't mind this room so much. Authentic Soviet style and it usually doesn't smell bad.

I was quite happy that Ilya brought his guitar, although not everyone appreciates acoustic sing-alongs like I do. But who cares, it was my party. He's sitting on my bed.

Some people just never know when to leave....

Actually it's quite common for us to 'crash' since some of live quite far from each other. The metro closes at 1:30 and it's possible to get stranded if we have to change trains. I only had three overnight guests that night, but last time there were six. My sofa can lay flat and there's an extra cot.

Anyone want to come for a visit?

This is my old room. The bed was too short for me so I'm quite happy to have moved to a bigger single bed in the bigger room/living room.

I'm also lucky that I don't have bed bugs. California Mike had to get a new bed and he's hoping they're gone for good... along with his rash.

It's not so bad, apart from the little elevator I sometimes share with guys smoking and dogs peeing. I cover my face and plug my nose on it every day.

Moscow shuts the hot water off each area for two or three weeks every year - different areas have different summer months. The students don't seem to mind because they plan their holidays around it and go to their dacha (country house) for the duration. My time happens to be right now and after 5 days I was feeling pretty sick of cold showers and boiling water on the stove. I'm in a hurry to get to work so I'll post tomorrow about what I did about it. Stay tuned.

Lot's of love & prayers, Mom

2007-05-13T04:14:00.000-06:00

This week a package arrived for me containing Oh Canada magazines and Coffee Crisp chocolate bars. I have a crazy work schedule which doesn't allow for much free time so one might think the effort of a 3-hour commute for this little parcel wouldn't be worth exuding all this energy (I actually had to do it twice because the post office decided to close an hour early the first day... for no reason whatsoever). I guess I might have felt that way if it hadn't contained a casual note providing me with an update of an old-family-friend's health, information on what Dad's doing at the moment, and a Lethbridge weather report.

The truth is, I've been receiving these random packages with notes for almost 20 years now. The Christmas ones are especially good because they contain fudge, but these unexpected ones... they're just the best. Yes, these simple notes take me right back home and remind me of how precious every day is and how much this one very special lady is thinking of me.

Mom always finishes her notes with words of praise or encouragement and signs it 'Lot's of love & prayers, Mom' and I know she means it.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom. I hope the seeding is going well and that you're spending it with at least one of my fabulous family members.

PS Wasn't it exciting to see Canada win the WHC? I watched it in an ex-pat bar. I was the only Canadian but some Russians were also cheering us on. Love ya!

Victory Day

2007-05-09T04:24:00.001-06:00

You gotta love May if you live in Russia. May 9th is another public holiday where Eastern Bloc countries celebrate their victory over the Germans in the great patriotic war. My 10-12 year-old students weren't aware that there were other countries involved in WWII; however, they knew all the dates and many other details and were excited to share them with me.

I was really looking forward to a mid-week day of rest; however, some of my over-enthusiastic friends persuaded me to meet them for the parade at 7:30 AM. Since I haven't enjoyed many mornings outside lately due to my late working hours, I decided to go for a good walk in the centre to meet up with them... one that doesn't entail racing through crowded metro stations. I was also a little intrigued about seeing the war vehicles.

It was an overcast morning but it was really neat to walk on the streets where there was no traffic since it was blocked off for the parade. I loved the silence and the big buildings appeared to be more architectually interesting without the chaos of open shops. There were loads of decorations on the streets and in the squares. The government gave out orange and brown striped ribbons - people wore them or put them on their car antennas. Last week I had seen them and expected 'Victory Day' to be much like our Remberance Day, except with ribbons instead of poppies.

There weren't a lot of people on the streets - my students had told me that they stay home and watch the parade on television because only VIP's are allowed in Red Square.

I met up with my friends at a popular coffee shop. Coffee House is the 'Starbucks' of Moscow. They're everywhere here. Although not even close to Starbucks quality. It's just as expensive though.

I go to one between classes every Tuesday and Thursday while I'm waiting for my second school to open. Further away from the centre, English speakers are more of a novelty so they know me. I get an English menu and extra coupons... I suspect because I'm a big tipper. Most of the staff aren't very friendly, but one girl likes to practice her 'English' with me.

At 9:00 AM the streets were still relativey empty, aside from policemen and a few stray dogs. We hung out there and eventually started seeing people walking toward Red Square. We finally gave up at 11:30. By this time, Coffee House was quite busy. Emma, who speaks Russian, got into a row with the server over our shot (bill). We usually know to just accept the terrible customer service, but she seemed to be in the need of making a point. By the time she was through with the manager, it was adjusted accordingly. She was still fuming when we took this photo.

When we got outside at noon, we could finally see the parade, which was supposed to start at 9:00 am, coming down the hill and people were waiting patiently to cheer the veterans on.

This was the last photo I took before my camera battery died. There weren't any floats or armoured vehicles. There were mainly old vets with medals weighing them down carrying flags and their children and grandchildren walking with them. There was one marching band and an old truck with a guy in the back shouting over the loud speakers about 'winning' and 'working hard'. A few old people had photos of Stalin on their flags. A variety of military uniforms and flags, including Palestinian flags, completed the parade.

I suspect that Putin's ceremony in Red Square was much more elaborate but I liked that this was realistic - no Mickey Mouse floats, etc.

After enjoying a few more hours of walking around the deserted streets in search of an open museum, I went home to shower and change for dinner and the ballet. It had warmed up in the afternoon and we sat outside on a nice patio. It was such a treat spending so much time outside even if the food sucked.

A student had given me a ticket for the ballet and I met her there. The music and dancers were even better than I had expected. I actually felt 'moved by it La Sylphide. Fabulous!

The Russians have a great appreciation for the arts but not many locals can afford tickets. Most in attendance were foreigners... Brits, Americans, Dutch, etc.

Another unexpected surprise was seeing the crowds on the streets when we came out of the theatre. Thousands of people passed through security to walk on the main roads. Every square had a live concert and enormous monitors showing war footage.

We walked until the fireworks were completed at midnight. She wanted to go for drinks but I begged off as I had lessons the following morning.

The Russians certainly know how to celebrate and it's great that they take the opportunity to remember. Sadly, these veterens have very small pensions and many can't afford basic necessities such as heating.

Lest we forget!

Canada 4, Czech Republic 3

2007-05-06T21:50:00.000-06:00

I don't have much time to write... busy day ahead and a very long day yesterday.

Suffice to say - Canada narrowly beat the Czechs 4-3 last night 23 seconds into overtime at the World Hockey Championship game near Moscow.

The game was nerve-racking, especially because we were sitting behind our goalie for two of the periods. Roloson did an amazing job... my British friend who was with me asked 'why are they attacking him?'

The Czech fans out-cheered us, too. Look at this section - they were on noisy and standing up, etc. throughout while our team colours barely moved. Must be tired from being in Moscow... or maybe it's because we can't drink in the stands.

I proudly sang our national anthem (alone) while they were raising the flag.

A few of our fans knew how to do it, though. These guys were chanting 'Da Da Canada' and some Russians were chanting along with them.

The game was a struggle and our players looked weary coming off the ice. But, it was a win and I'm proud of Doan and his team-mates.

Unfortunately I'll be working tonight as they take on the US. But I'll be thinking to myself 'Da Da Canada'.

May Day

2007-05-04T01:12:00.000-06:00

May 1st in Russia is 'Labour Day'... or 'Day of Hard-Working People' as it was translated to me by my students.

Because it fell on a Tuesday, we had to work Saturday to make up for the lost week days. We also had Monday off because it falls between Sunday and Tuesday. Makes perfect sense... to some. Since I'm not from here, I found it unusual and complicated, especially since we had tickets for the conservatory Saturday evening (I work evenings). I'll post more about that later.

It was nice that the Russians had a long weekend, though. Most of my students said they 'slept' to recover from their continuous hard work.

I'm not sure what Karl Marx would have thought of this holiday. Apparently there's also a statue somewhere of a women with a mop... an unnamed labourer.

In the meantime, on the Monday prior to Labour Day, I walked with my student from her flat, about an hour-long trek. I was nursing an impromptu hangover and we had just finished a private early-morning lesson. She lives in an expensive area and pointed out the designer shops, shown in this photo, and a Ferrari dealership which she looovves.

Red Square was especially bustling. The only other time I had seen it busier was at Christmas. My student was surprised as well so I took a shot of it as we were walking past. I only noticed the Team Canada jerseys after I uploaded the photos later. I decided that it was a sign I must go to a game, along with the harassment I am receiving from my family.

So, if and when Canada wins tonight, while I'm working, they'll play again on Sunday night, when I'm not working. Look for me in the crowd. I'll be the one cheering for Canada.

Day of Mourning

2007-04-25T05:38:00.000-06:00

While my family in Canada is currently in mourning due to the Calgary Flames' annihilation, I stayed home this morning to see how my resident country is paying respect to their first President.

I woke up not so early to my cell phone ringing. As luck would have it, one of my classes was cancelled. So relieved for an extra hour of sleep and extra time to go to the centre to pick up my pay (an hour commute), I began to relax.

Last night some of my students were talking about how today has been declared a day of mourning for Yeltsin. There would be no television commercials or entertainment of any kind. To find out if they were right, I turned on my television for only the second time since I've been here. The first time was to watch Putin's address on New Year's eve (booorrring).

There was a live broadcast on almost every channel of the funeral, open casket and all. They showed thousands of people lined up outside the church in Kropotkinskaya, which happens to be next to the school where I needed to pick up my pay. New plan. I decided to stay home, prepare some lessons, and watch TV.

The Russians were paying their respect by walking through the church and viewing the body. It went on for hours. The more important people were greeting the widow and her daughters. Mrs. Yeltsin looked exhausted. Despite not understanding the Russian commentator, I did hear some name mentions, including former Canadian Prime Minister Chretien... or was that Chechnyn? Probably not. I think I saw the back of his head, anyway. George Sr. and Bill, sporting what appeared to be matching blue ties, stole the spotlight for a while, along with some other former world leaders.

My students had nothing but praise for Yeltsin. Some recounted stories of his social exhibitions and a group of older students told me he gave them hope. Mary, who is 45 years old, said it was the only time in her life she felt that way. We don't talk 'politics' too much in class, partly due to my not wanting to offend anyone and also because, as one student put it, "the walls might be listening", But, without criticizing anyone in particular, they did agree that they don't feel that same sense of hope now.

No one's perfect but I think it's pretty cool that a guy could inspire hope in a whole country and keep their respect. RIP Boris!

We Are the Champions!!

2007-04-22T02:58:00.000-06:00

Every month, our school puts on a seminar for professional development. Although it's tough to give up a precious Saturday, I like going to get new ideas and it's also an opportunity to meet other teachers. There seems to be a revolving door with this company and it's hard to find ex-pat friends since where I work is a bit isolated.

Yesterday, I participated in a trivia quiz/fundraiser, put on by a couple of the teachers after the seminar. My friends basically forced me to join their team. The idea was to get a good mix of nationalities but to ensure at least one Russian, which we were having trouble finding for our team. That was worrisome and I was also quite nervous that I'd be expected to know important North American references.

I actually hate trivia. I have a great fear of it.. going hand-in-hand with humiliating myself in public. I stayed up late every night the past week surfing the web to find and memorize important dates, like birthdays of former Prime Ministers and when Champlain first arrived. 1603. If you knew these girls who put this quiz on, you'd understand the pressure.

Well it turned out to be quite stimulating, even fun... and brain-damaging. We snagged an authentic Russian, Ilyia, during the seminars and we managed to get enough right answers to win the quiz. Luckily, there weren't many Canada-related questions (although I also found that somewhat insulting). Like, who really cares about rugby and cricket? But somehow even I got lucky with a couple answers. Gotta love those old Saturday morning movies. That conversion from the 'Imperial' system when I was in grade 4 also came in handy for calculating California Mike's answers into the 'metric' system.

The top three teams were neck 'n neck throughout the nine rounds, but Russian Roulette (I picked that name) came out on top. The best part was that we raised over 10,000 rubles for a great Moscow charity which helps children with disabilities get medical care. Good stuff!

Christos Voskrese... Happy Easter!!

2007-04-08T12:46:00.000-06:00

My Russian Orthadox friends told me Christos Voskrese literally means 'Christ Has Risen'. The reply is Voiltinu Voskrese... 'He really IS risen'. They celebrated in their church from Saturday evening until 6:00 am, Sunday morning. Then they ate home-made Easter bread called Khulich and started drinking kha-kha. I suspect they still are after all that fasting.

A bunch of us teachers went to a Bulgarian restaurant and celebrated a 40th birthday, along with the fact that we weren't currently working. The food, atmosphere, and company made it a very enjoyable evening, although quite expensive. I'll be fasting for the rest of the month.

Today I bummed around with Mike and Luis in Oktyabrskaya area. Aside from the massive Lenin statue, now competing with Sanyo, we didn't see any other reference to the 1917's October Revolution. We were actually more interested in spying on the militia while they pulled over dark-skinned drivers.

We considered 'sacrificing' Luis in order to obtain photographic proof of his harassment to date - 49 checks. He recounted one incident where he got some of his property and documents taken away from him - he refused to offer a bribe. An old Babushka, who had been trying to marry him off to her grand-daughter, befriended him. She drug him to the police station and made a big scene by repeatedly slamming her purse on the counter and using official words like 'legal' and 'family'. He eventually got back his stuff due to her demands and narrowly escaped the other 'imprisonment'. I suspect he still has Babushka's number on him though.

The Bolsheviks?
The most impressive place in the area was this authentic Mexican restaurant. Saddles for bar stools and 'Wanted' posters everywhere, it really felt like stepping into the wild west. The toilets were the most fun. They had animal sounds... horses, chickens, cows, and lovely Mexican cowboy music alternating out of them. The burritos were okay but the taco salad tasted remarkably like the chicken salad I had at a Russian chain restaurant a few days ago. Glad I didn't try the ceviche. We're still in Russia after all.

We wanted to go for a walk along the river afterward but there was a freak snow storm and everything was blinding white when we came out so went home and slept.

It didn't feel much like Easter, but I remember being in Israel last summer and walking the steps Jesus walked, ironically, with Mexicans.

Just Another Week

2007-04-02T13:35:00.000-06:00

My first week back was pure chaos, which is not unsual here. I had to try and find out which classes were covered while I was away so I could prepare. All the info I did eventually get was incorrect so I had some frustrating moments. I basically did the same thing as when I first got here... flew by the seat of my pants. Luckily, my students are very forgiving and I enjoyed bringing them back souvenirs from Canada. It was so good to see them ... even Masha's dog, Lisa, who joined us for a class. woof woof

The good news is that the weather has been fantastic. There isn't any snow left and it feels like spring. It's still quite ugly and dirty, but at least I'm not having a serotonin crisis. I got a new, and much improved, flat-mate (that's 'room-mate' for you non-Europeans). I like coming home knowing there's someone else around, even if we don't really see each other much. I've had to learn the few Russian words I thought I knew over again but I still remember some British.

At the weekend ('on the weekend' for you non-Brits) I found myself at another teacher's party. I will let you guess who are teachers or students. There was a good mix of both and everyone seemed equally sloshed. Quite a piss-up, even some 'snogging in the toilet (I heard).

The next morning my friend, who had crashed, reminded me it was April Fool's Day so we played a little joke (copyright C.Schraefel 1995) on the guy who had thrown the party. I got a school administrator to ring him (call him on the phone) and tell him an inspector was coming in two hours to look over the flat (apartment). It was quite believable since his flat-mate was about to move out. He called me 20 minutes later, frantic, and said 'Help, I need help. I have to have apartment cleaned in two hours'. In unison, my friend and I said 'April Fool's' to him but he wouldn't acknowledge it. Instead he whispered 'well, actually, I have my students (who had crashed) here cleaning and could you still bring over your hoover (that's vacuum cleaner for you non-Brits). So I carried the blooming thing, along with my aching head, two metro stops over to him... a little relieved, actually,that his flat was finally getting cleaned. He had kind of 'let it go', didn't he.

Sunday night I met a friend for Azerbaijan food. Azerbaijan is on the Caspian Sea and borders Iran, Georgia, Armenia, and Russia. I hadn't even heard of it until I moved here. But now, I'm teaching private lessons to some people originally from there and who are trying to immigrate to Canada. Anyway, the food was great and inexpensive. I asked my student about the meat and she said usually they eat ram instead of beef, but there was a stew that tasted very much like my mom's beef stew. Later we walked along Old Arbat, a pedestrian street catering to tourists. It's weird that this was my first time there since I've been here four months. The street wasn't all that impressive to me. I had seen the merchandise in other places around the city but I do know there is a lot of history which I will try to relay in another post one day. I hope they clean it up a bit for the summer. I'd do anything to sit ont a nice patio. But there are still so many places here I've yet to explore... and Bob's your uncle.

Ilsa recommends trying new things! Cheerio!

An Irish Wedding

2007-03-23T01:53:00.000-06:00

I went back to Canada to see my brother, Robbie, marry his sweetheart. Amber has some Irish blood in her and they both loooove drinking beer, so they decided to have a Saint Paddy's Day theme.

Great food, music, family and friends made the day very special. It was also held in my home town(s) of Luseland/Kerrobert Saskatchewan.

Limericks made the couple kiss and and this little 'shoe' game indicated Rob is ready for kids!

Some tears fell during the service, before the service, and after the service. I guess the 'baby' of the family getting married made us all a little emotional.

Of course, my parents might have been crying because I'm 'not' married... yet.

My cousins wanted a 'Sex in the City' type photo but I think we're closer to 'Sexless in the Small Town' girls.

My goofy brothers... one's still available!

'You're my Kiprusof glove save' moment

Don't cha just wanna kiss this wee Irish lad? I did.

Mom and her baby

Cousins taking a break from decorating the hall - they're pretty good workers most of the time.

Kids love theme weddings, too.

Arctic Adventure

2007-02-20T12:49:00.000-07:00

For some crazy reason, I followed California Mike to the Arctic Circle... last week, in mid-February. It was bbrrrrrisk.

First we flew with Aeroflot to the largest Arctic city, Murmansk. This was an adventure in itself. You see, when Aeroflot has mechanical problems with a plane, while in the air, they do not feel its necessary to communicate such matters to the passengers. Instead, they crawl around on the aisle floor doing 'something' with the mechanics below (one doesn't usually get to see that stuff) and then attempt several landings until they get it right. My friend, Emma, was openly freaked out. I reassured her with smiles and jokes while secretly sending a text to my friend in Moscow. It included my family's contact information and my final words. Luckily, he waited until good news came before acting and we eventually landed safely.
Some passengers who seemed oblivious to it all were these young hockey players, who were heading to a tournament. Many of them were sporting NHL logos on their toques (hats). I was so excited to see the logos and said 'Hey, I'm from Canada'. They responded with the only English phrases they knew...'Calgary Flames', 'Montreal Canadians', 'Anaheim Ducks', and 'What's your name?' So cute!

California Mike's main objective of this trip was to see the Northern Lights. He was pretty set on it. Not that I didn't want to see the beautiful lights; but, being from Canada, I had first-hand knowledge that we can't predict when/where we'll be able to catch a glimpse of the mysterious 'aurora borealis'. However, I decided to come along when he promised reindeer sightings. Of course I didn't expect the first sighting to be on top of a pizza at Mama Mia's. Other menu items included 'Boiled Reindeer Tongue' and 'Ruza' (minced pork & reindeer w/ fried onion and boiled egg).

The next day, we headed to Lovozero with Yuri. The hotel clerk told us it would be a three-hour drive, but Yuri managed it in just over two. I sat in the back seat with my hands over my face. It was so cold that the windows were frosted up anyway. He reminded me a lot of my Uncle Don who used to get a real kick out scaring the hell out of me. He had the same hearty laugh and a great sense of humour. Since he got us there safely, we arranged for him to pick us up for our return trip (presuming we'd survive until then). I think he's cute, too... and much friendlier than the typical Moscovite.

A couple hundred miles south-east of Murmansk, on the Kola Peninsula, we found Lovozero. There isn't much to see here except a few dreary-looking apartment buildings. Many inhabitants are the indigenous Sami people who are either unemployed or work for the reindeer farm cooperative - an interesting BBC article describes their situation best - http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/business/6171701.stm.

We were the only guests staying at the only hotel, although we we saw a business-looking man on our last morning. When we asked why people go there, we got a cryptic (translated by Emma) response... 'each has their own reason'. Since we were the only strangers in town, we thought that people on the street might be more interested in us, but they seemed indifferent. There is a very good museum in Lovozero which showed us the different cultures since the 16th century who inhabited the area. The guest book was 15 years old and only a few pages were filled - seemed to be mostly Norwegian visitors. It actually seemed that they had opened the museum just for us, but that too is clouded in mystery.

We met Sasha at the hotel. He is staying and working there in an effort to start an outdoor camp for tourists. The salmon fishing is supposed to be great. (I wish we had been served that, as opposed to reindeer at the hotel). Politics and bureaucracy are blocking Sasha's many attempts but he is very patient. Sasha is also working toward a competition in Alaska for dog-sledding next year. He was dressed for a 200 km snowmobile ride to another remote area.

Before he left, he hooked us up with a local reindeer herder for a ride to see rudolph 'et al'. We aren't sure if the Sami guy dressed for us or if it was the norm, but we had seen replicas of his traditional atire in the museum. I was on the back of the snowmobile on the way out to the lake and had to keep moving the knives and reindeer teeth hanging off his belt to avoid being stabbed. Not that I would have felt anything. I have seriously never been so cold in my entire life. He actually stopped for a cigarette at one point on the frozen lake while we sat there and froze our extremities. He did stop at his hut for us to warm up as he mentioned that we weren't dressed properly.

I didn't take my digital camera because it was so cold I didn't want to damage it. But seeing the reindeer, many of them tethered, was kind of a 'downer' to me. I know that this industry is currently the base for this community, but they just seemed to sad. And, obviously, they many years of visualizing Santa with Dasher, Dancer.... must have had an impact.

Can you believe these two weren't dressed properly? They had so much gear, they could barely move their arms. They had a great time playing in the snow on mini-outings... including middle-of-the night peaks for the northern lights. Emma and I stayed in the hotel and played scrabble.

Back in Murmansk, where it was a much warmer -17, we did some more exploring. The fog kept us from seeing the inlet to the Barents Sea, only a few kilomtres from us. I really wanted to see an icebreaker that was supposed to be docked there, but, like the northern lights, another miss.

We did manage to spot a naked guy running from this sauna to the cold water. Those crazy Norwegians!

W We took in a cultural museum prior to leaving and had dinner at 'Alan's', named after my Dad.

We managed to survive almost unscathed... Emma had frostbite on her nose.

Strange Sights and the Likes

2007-02-07T22:28:00.000-07:00

It was so cool to come across this block of snowmen last week. My friend and I were walking to the metro, on a street we know well in the centre, when we turned the corner and were greeted by these charming snowmen. We were so surprised to see them here, in this oh, so serious city.

Not so charming was being peed on. Seriously, a few weeks ago I was just walking along near my flat, chuckling to myself about a crude Santa poster that one would never see in Canada (he was packing 'heat'), when I felt a sprinkle on my legs. On the crowded street I followed the stream to see where it was coming from. My point of interest landed on this old drunk guy sitting on the dirty side-walk, leaned up against a liquor store, and letting it all hang out while splattering dozens of others. Wish I could erase that memory.

Although I've been here three months now, I am still disgusted and awe-struck almost daily. I'm not yet too sick of the daily train rides because there are so many unusual things to see... like this metro dog, appreciating a warm nap.
One Russian restaurant, with a pretty good salad bar, is a taxidermist's dream. There are various mounted animals and skins everywhere - even a fur-lined bar. You can't help but bump into them. It certainly makes you think about what you're eating. Coca-doodle doo!
I found out from a student today, who proudly showed me a photo of her puppy named 'Lisa', that 'lisa' also means 'fox', as she pointed to another student's fur coat. That's when I taught them the word 'dead.'

I still have some trouble getting past the fur thing. It hasn't even been that cold here but people where their furs... even when its raining. They look like wet dogs. Yuk! Also fashionable now (the past couple of years here) are mukluks - if you grew up in the 80's you are sure to remember them. I recall liking my fake-fur boots as they were soft and, oh, so comfortable. Here they are the real thing completely fur-covered inside and out.... like little puppies running around their legs... or 'lisas'.

Some of the famous Moscow museums, along with the Bolshoi (ballet) Theatre, are closed for renovations this year. Unfortunately, so is the Russian Space Museum which is supposed to be great. This rocket sits on top of it. I discovered it by chance one day when I was out for a walk on a rare, cloudless morning.

Across the street was a very large Charles de Gaulle statue. I had to 'google' him to try and figure out what the big deal about him would be to place him in front of the 'Cosmo' Hotel. I haven't gotten to the bottom of it yet, but some of my students have different theories in which phrases include 'corrupt politicians' and 'France didn't want it'. So strange. Like Moscow.

I like seeing little ladies 'texting' on their mobile phones. Seems out-of-place to me.

I'm off to visit Murmansk, north of 60, for five days. If I don't freeze to death, I'll write more next week. Happy Valentine's Day!

Suzdal

2007-02-07T22:04:00.000-07:00

'The Golden Ring' is an old Russian route that forms a circle north-east of Moscow and includes many ancient Russian cities full of history and unique architecture dating from 12th - 17th centuries.

One such town is Suzdal, with history dating back to 1024. I went along with some teacher friends for the 4-hour bus trip (that's an extra 45 minutes with a flat tire).

We the spent a night in a little wooden house inside a monastery. Being British, they were most fascinated by the snow - I was not so much. But it obviously added to the charm. With over 30 churches, Suzdal is most picturesque and seems like a small town with rivers running through it.

Emma and I had to help Carol, who was sliding down the hill... a testament to the quality of Russian boots. By the way, 'Carol' means 'King" in Russian and the Russians think its hilarious for it to be a female name. After that we sampled the regional drink, Medsomethingorother... a wine made from honey. I haven't learned how to pronounce it yet but it sure is yummy.

I love the colours in the photo of Gaynor. These are her pictures since I forgot my camera (can you imagine?) but she let me take a few shots.

Little houses with the fancy windows frames are on every street. Apparently the same type of window frames are popular in Siberia.

Me and Bear

2007-02-02T06:59:00.000-07:00

Check out my new guy! I met him in a 'Golden Ring' town outside of Moscow. I've always preferred the strong, silent type, but maybe you can see... I'm trying not to get too close. He's Russian and I'm not.

Actually, I had bargained with the little old man selling the photo opportunity and was quite pleased with myself for the 12 ruble deal when walking away. Then my friend, who understands Russian, told me he was saying 'please help me'. The guilt cost me an extra 20; but, the sweet little man with shiny blue eyes and red cheeks held onto my hand and thanked me profusely (at least I think that's what he was doing... the translator didn't catch it).

Red Square

2007-01-13T03:55:00.000-07:00

On my first weekend in Moscow, I visited Red Square. It was cold and there was snow then. It was exciting to see this notorious place in person. Only a few blocks from our admin office in the city centre, it has become my main focal point for finding my way in the centre.

Red Square separates the kremlin from the President's official residence called 'Kitay-Gorad' (which means 'China Town' in Russian, although I've yet to see a Chinese person here). The city closes the streets in Moscow for Putin and his bodyguards to pass through every working day.

I used to think that the colorful St Basil's Cathedral pictured here was the famous kremlin; but, nope - its a 16th century church inside red square. Legend has it that Ivan the Terrible ordered blindness for the architect, Postnik Yakovlev, so he wouldn't be able to create anything else that could rival its beauty. Each of the nine onion domes are on top of a chapel. I haven't gone inside yet - I hear its rather disappointing.

Lenins tomb is in the centre - off to the side and in front of the red brick walls and towers which surround the Kremlin. Check out the red star on the tower.

Moscow Kremlin

2007-01-05T11:17:00.000-07:00

Spent a lovely, but brisk brrrrr, afternoon at Moscow's Kremlin last week. The old fortress has two palaces, an armoury chamber, churches, towers, and museums. It's
too big to explore in one day. You can buy tickets in packages - we got the one for museums only which are old churches in Cathedral Square. Tickets for foreigners are 300 rubles but locals pay 100 rubles. I bumped into a guy from Edmonton there.

There happened to be a big crowd to a Children's New Year's so lots of waiting around in the cold. Our friends, Vera, Vera, and 'little' Lisa (guess who is called 'big' Lisa) gave us a customized tour. My friend and I know them from a figure skating event we attended a couple months ago. They offered to help us with directions and, since then, they've hosted us a their home and took us skating. They love practising their English with us and we love learning about their culture and traditions.

The Tsar Bell (1733-1735) is 6.14 metres high and weighs 200 tons. It was never used as it was damaged in a fire prior to completion.

We also toured the Archangel's Cathedral (1505) which is filled with coffins of the Princes and Tsars. We didn't spend too much time there but enjoyed the Annunciation Cathedral (1475) which held icons from 12th - 18th Century.

I most enjoyed the exhibition hall of the Ivan the Great Bell Tower as it show-cased gifts from other countries including jewels, swords, gold, and unique snuff boxes (what exactly were those things used for?). The purpose of the 266' bell tower was built with two belfries because none of the Cathedrals had their own.

I'll check out more of the Kremlin on a more picturesque day - white snow or green grasss. Is that too much to ask for?

Happy Pig Year!

2007-01-02T02:09:00.000-07:00

On Tuesday and Thursday mornings I have a 20-minute walk to school from the Babushkinskaya metro station. I like it because it requires me to go along the path of local vendors in a quiet residential area. There are butchers, liquor merchants, produce kiosks, flowers, gifts, home-canned veggies, linens, etc. It seems to be a pleasant, tight-knit community. What has intrigued me the most are the tables full of toy pigs. The Russians can be somewhat crude with their marketing so you can imagine how some of those stuffed pigs are displayed. Seeing the little Babushkas sitting on their stools, showcasing their 'pig' merchandise always gives me a chuckle.

The same 'pig' displays are at every commercial area so I had been wondering about the pig fascination for a while. Low and behold I received one as a gift from our school administrator who explained that 2007 is the Chinese year of the pig and it's a New Year's tradition to give them as gifts. I received a few more last week and I'm thankful that I wasn't here for the start of 2006 - the 'year of the rat'.

For New Year's eve, I had some friends over for dinner. We planned on meeting some other teachers to see a big fireworks display in a park; but, after drinking a few bottles of wine (including Asian wine from Bulgaria??) and a few samples of another student's gift, vodka, we decided to keep sampling. One of my guests, a local Russian girl, put us all to shame. This girl can really knock 'em back.
We didn't want to lose our buzz on during the comute and, besides, we had our very own fireworks display right out the window. Actually, a little closer than comfortable.

I had been hearing the loud cracks since I got here in November. At first I thought it was gun fire so was relieved to discover that the Russians just love celebrating with firecrackers. The closer to New Year's, the more frequent the cracks. In fact, the last few days, I've found myself ducking for cover. Last night there was a constant stream outside of my apartment building and beyond. Spectacular display!

After a midnight toast and taste of champagne we went outside to set off our sparklers and got caught, literally, in the line of fire. We cowered together, low to the ground, and watched the guys, standing a mere 10 feet away, set them off over our heads. I've never been so close to all the action. We laughed hysterically and then watched and listened, from 'inside', to them for the rest of the night. In fact, its now the wee hours of January 2nd and I can still hear some going off.

Of course, it was all fun and games until someone's apartment burned down. A student, sending a New Year's congratulations text message, said she was without electricity since the neighbors building went up in flames due to fireworks. Shocking!

Wishing you all a happy and fire-free 2007! Moscow for New Year's... Ilsa recommends!

My Moscow Christmas

2006-12-27T01:13:00.000-07:00

Christmas in Moscow was suprisingly OK. I'll admit to a few tears, mostly out of exhaustion, Christmas Eve, but for the most part, it was kind of nice to spend it with my new friends from around the world and to share the excitement and traditions with the Russian students.

I went to the Mel Gibson 'Apocalypto' movie with friends Christmas Eve Day, unfortunatley the only English one playing and with subtitles since its in Myan. What a downer... blood, gore, rape, murder, captivities, and the typical hollywood predictabilities. I'd have paid $100 to watch 'A Christmas Story' instead.

Foreigners are treated a little differently than the locals here. In obvious ways, we're charged more at pubs and restaurants; we aren't allowed to use the coat check if its almost full (they have to save room for their own); and, the cinema hall at was around the building sowe had to walk outside and go in through a backdoor. Popcorn wasn't an option and neither was heat. We get our revenge by making fun of their tacky displays and poor fashion sense. Check out the bull and sheep in this high-priced boutique window.

I was excited to see the Christmas/New Year trees after a fresh snow fall. They're the only real ones I've seen here. Notice California Mike posing in front, sporting a fashionable Canada flag. He's been instructed to behave as Canadian as possible while wearing... act friendly, speak softly, drop the occasional 'eh', and to remember he's politically useless.

Christmas Night was spent with only two students that showed up for the lesson, but we shared we part of it with other students and teachers in my school - a little karaoke, games, chocolate, and malt wine.

On Christmas Day I did a lot of running around from post office to post office, picking up two parcels. My buddy Paul is posing with mom's package in front of some big church. I made him come because I was told the package was three kilos and thought I'd need a hand carrying it. It wasn't but what a nice treat to receive them on that day. Thanks for the fudge, mom!

While walking, we sang 'Silent Night' in German, a midnight mass tradition back home in Canada. Paul speaks German but he doesn't know the words. I thought I knew the words but its clear to him I don't.

Today I had a break from teaching. The school where I have most of my lessons is on a break until January 10th. I'll have to work some next week but will be nice to have more time to catch up on my sleep and do some sightseeing. Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!

Russian Reality

2006-12-01T03:44:00.000-07:00

Okay Okay, relax! I'm here and my life isn't falling apart. I'm just super busy. And thanks for the emails of encouragement but it really isn't that bad. It just took a few days to adjust.

For instance, I no longer wake up disappointed because 'it's NOT just a bad dream.' I haven't been lost in days. In fact, I actually know what I'm doing when it comes to taking the metro and I can be quite pushy when necessary. I brush my teeth with tap water and I haven't dropped dead. I killed a cockroach without crying (just a few little whimpers - oh, and rubber gloves). I can now buy vegetables from the supermarket and, cross my fingers, I haven't been spit on.

Moscow is definitely a place for an adventurous soul and it certainly keeps ones eyes wide open. And not just because its so darn dark all the time (I have yet to see the sun). Some of my fellow teachers tell me that after years of working here, they still don't really understand the culture and its best not to try.

Let me describe a typical day....

Wake up - pinch myself (although not disappointed, I still wonder if its all a dream). Fortunately, we have a nice warm shower in the flat so I spend as much time as possible in there. Then I plan lessons. I'm still trying to learn the new course books so its taking a lot to get a handle on it all. If I have to go to the admin office or one of the schools in the centre for whatever reason, I lose a large chunk of my day since its a 45 min commute. I teach teach two or three classes each weekday, with most classes in the evening. I'm generally home by 11pm. Luckily, the school administrator is always forcing us to eat so I haven't had to worry much about food. I crash as soon as I'm home and never was I so happy to see the weekend as I did this past one. I had caught a nasty cold and desperately needed the rest.

I am amazed at how different the students I teach seem compared to the people I see on the street or in the metro. Most are warm and charming and so very curious about me and Canada. I would consider them comparable to middle-class Canadians but they are, in fact, rich compared to the norm here.

Between lesson planning and school I have managed to buy a cell phone (everyone sends text messages here but I find that about as easy as learning the Russian alphabet), eat out with ex-pat teacher friends, attend a figure skating event, and I spent last weekend in Kiev. I had to get my working visa there so I took a 13-hour (overnight train trip) and managed to stay an extra night at a real hotel. Besides, the strangest massage from a pudgy Ukrainian lady, I had a great time there. I love the wide streets in the centre and people are friendlier than the Russians. In fact, I met a Canadian girl who had immigrated with her family four years ago but now she's back in Ukraine. She and a local Kiev girl gave Melanie (another teacher on a visa run) and me a customized tour. They know so much about their history. There was a memorial to the artificially-produced famine from the 1930's when more millions of people starved to death. When I can, I'll post photos (unfortunately the sun didn't shine there either) but the churches were still lovely.

Back to the streets of Moscow... a typical outing...

A 5-minute walk to the metro station from my stinky flat, I see two women drinking beer (we're talking super-size bottles) in front of the grocery store. This is at 10:30 am. I need to duck from time to time to avoid the spit from the men (maybe if they would stop smoking they wouldn't have to spit so much). I try not to step on it also but its impossible. Once inside the metro station, two dogs are going at it... well, at least one dog is, the other is taking it. I look around in disgust at everyone standing there watching. There's no animal control, obviously. Stray dogs are everywhere and that really bothers me but I don't know what I can do.

The train in the metro is the real interesting part. Most women dress like prostitutes, with thigh-high leather spiked boots and animal print furs. The more I try to mix, by dressing conservatively, the more I stand out. I need at least a fur collar and fur cuffs if I want to blend but really, the outfits are so very outrageous its mind-boggling. For now, I'm not too bothered being stared at so I'll stick with my standard black. I'm lucky I live at the end of one of the lines so I can usually get a seat for serious 'people watching'. Its so crowded, particularly in 'the trains around the centre. We are jammed tighter than mom's pickled cucumbers. And the smell can be stifling. From guys passed out drunk to women's stinky perfume and even vomit. Its grim. Fortunately, all the workers clean at the end of every line and sometimes at night. In fact, the metro is much cleaner than the streets and its supposed to be illegal to liter there. My friend, Emma, and I once missed the last train from the centre at 1:15 am (I know that now for the future) so stayed up all night and caught the first trains at 5:45 am. The place was immaculate. Workers in their little uniforms, sweeping and scrubbing.

The stations themselves are architectually fascinating, some even have chandeliers. I'm dying to take photos - of the places and the crowds and the strange people but that's illegal too. Maybe I'll sneak one w/ my camera phone sometime when I'm feeling brave.

No one on the street smiles but occasionally I'll come across a friendly vendor. The little kiosks are everywhere, including underground between stations and you can buy anything from lingerie to croissants to a set of dishes. I find it so strange that someone would buy underwear in a crowded spot like that.

Got to run now - pay day today.

PS I lost my laptop's hardrive but when computer is up and running again, and I can figure out how to get the internet in my flat, I'll be able to post photos (hopefully prior to my contract being up).

Lost My Way to School

2006-11-23T06:37:00.000-07:00

In the past, getting lost has never bothered me all that much. Although, it really bothered my sister a couple of times (sorry, Sis). I've always seemed to find a lesson in it somehow, or at least a new adventure. In today's 'Lost' episode (Moscow style), I simply got lucky.

The schools that I teach at are in various locations so its been a great enough challenge just learning how to use the metro and trying to figure out the cryllic names. Only the Lord (who I was praying to) knows how I found my way back to the metro station in the school's area. From there, it would have been ideal to telephone the school or look on a map. If only it were that easy. As my father has told me 'You always do things the hard way... ha ha ha."

On my first visit, I was accompanied by a Russian lady from the school for the 20 minute walk. At that time, I certainly found myself confused, but I did manage to find my way back from the school. This time, even though I knew I had never seen the address or the name of this school and couldn't reach anyone to ask before I left, I took a chance that I'd be able to locate it myself. I left myself lots of time in case I got lost. Unfortunatley, it wasn't enough time.

I had my map. I thought I'd try to call the Russian-speaking school administrator (who is the only person at this tiny little school). Too bad I don't know how to use the phones. If I had a Russian credit card, I might have handled it. Why don't I have a mobile phone like everyone else here? Oh yeah, no one will sell me one. I don't have the right kind of visa yet (you actually have to hand over your passport to buy a cell phone/SIM card here).

So there I was. Nothing looked familiar. I contemplated asking a policeman but THAT seemed risky. By the way, I wasn't just standing around lost. I was trying every possible metro exit and street, retracing my steps to the metro (I wasn't going to lose THAT place again). It only took 4 scenarios to find my way to the school and the students were only waiting 1/2 hour for me.

Luckily, this is a very kind class. They laughed at my gestures and drawings on the white board as I tried to explain 'lost' to them. It just happened to be an Absolute Beginner adult class who only had one other English lesson ever (taught by me). At the end of the class, one of the students suggested I drink vodka.

I don't know my lesson in getting lost on this occasion and I'm still not sure that I can find my way from that school again but I'm off now to find another school for another lesson for another class. Too bad I lost my gloves today.

Lost in Isolation

2006-11-20T01:31:00.000-07:00

Culture shock
a state of bewilderment and distress experienced by an individual who is suddenly exposed to a new, strange, or foreign social and cultural environment.

Doesn't sound so bad in print. Well, it is. However, it doesn't seem to be taking so long to get used to this crazy (and filthy) environment as one would think. Don't get me wrong. I'm not eating off the streets or anything but I certainly did like being back in Moscow after three days and three nights in Elektrostal.

Elektrostal is a small town of 200,000 people and is 50 km (or a two-hour bumper-to-bumper drive, or a bus to the metro on the edge of town, or an unsafe train ride). I found this out on the drive to the town with the school administrator. Actually, everything she was telling me kept pushing me further and further down.

I had tried to keep my expectations low but when all access (phone, etc) to my outside world was cut off, I called it quits. I won't miss the ants, or the bumpy bed or the water that runs blood red for five minutes and is scalding hot. Maybe one day, when I'm feeling strong enough, I'll relay the naked bathtub story to you.

I shouldn't really give Elektrostal such a hard time since I never gave it much of a chance. I did teach a couple of lessons and the teenagers were really quite nice. Its an industrial town, with steel factories, so the metal taste in my mouth was quite understandable. Apparently a lot of people live there and comute to Moscow so there must be more redeaming qualities I never yet discovered. I had offered to stay on until they found a replacement but they decided to move me right away.

So here I am back in Moscow. The minute I got to the admin offices I had to cover for two lessons, with no time to prepare plans. I also got an orientation of the Russian (cryllic) metro system by the Russian cleaning lady who spoke a little broken English and would show-off her skills to other Russians in ear-distance.

Thanks for emails. Much appreciated but can't respond for a while - keep them coming though. I must go lesson planning now so stay tuned for upcoming postings, including 'Lost on the Metro' and Í Can't Stop Crying'.

Miserable in Moscow

2006-11-09T09:37:00.000-07:00

I arrived in Moscow Thursday night and I'm not going to sugar-coat it. So far it sucks!

This place is huge! It took almost two hours to get from the outskirts where the airport is to downtown where the school admin offices are located. Apparently there's a great metro system but there are still many vehicles on the road. The pollution burns the inside of my nostrils. The buildings are the size of city blocks - large 20 story apt buildings... most run down and unsightly. Its strange to see all the luxury cars on the street, amidst the old beaters - many stalled at intersections. Almost all have dark tinted glass.

There was blowing wet snow. Everyone appeared grumpy. The driver from the school made it clear he doesn't speak English and to not bother with further attempts at Russian, although he did manage to say 'Supermarket?' right before he stopped at one. It certainly wasn't Safeway - kind of pathetic, actually, with really bad produce. No wonder everyone is grumpy. I had to buy groceries since I am staying in the school hostel for a few days. The hostel is truly horrible. I won't go into detail because I just ate a burger and don't want to lose it. I cried myself to sleep the first night. Oh, and, Damn, its cold!

OK no more negative stuff... the office/hostel is only a couple of blocks from Red Square so I got some sight seeing in already. Another teacher (my savior) arrived at the hostel last night. He had to leave the last place he was boarding because the family was trying to marry him off to their daughter and the mother kept mending his pants and leaving him notes. I was never so happy to meet a stranger. He, another teacher and I hung out for the evening. We got stopped by the police, too. Apparently that's common. They checked our passports but didn't ask for bribes... phew, lucky this time.

I had borscht and perogies for dinner. Yummy!

P.S. GO RIDERS GO!!

Great Ghent

2006-11-09T01:40:00.000-07:00

Knowing that everything was taken care of for my new gig, it was nice that I had some time to kill in Europe. I tried to take advantage of my last few days of vacation. After all, its only been six months since I was working full time.

My friend, Helena, let me hang out with her to check out some sculptures and then a modern art museum- an acquired appreciation I believe. We saw some horses running on the beach that day. Love that about this place.

I didn't have the same exhilerated feeling that I had when I first saw the Hague, possibily because of the gloomy weather. Plus it gets dark so early here. It seemed the sun always shone and everyone seemed friendlier. I did, however, manage to find some awe & wonderment in Belgium one day when Carrie, an ex-pat from God's country (Saskatchewan) skipped work to hang out with me.

These photos are of Ghent, just a two-hour train ride away. I couldn't believe how many beautiful buildings there are in such a small area. Since it was a monday a lot of places weren't open but we did get to see the Adoration of the Mystic Lamb (Lamb of God) in Saint Bavo's Cathedral. This unique masterpiece commissioned by a wealthy merchant, was completed in 1432 by Hubert and Jan van Eyck and has an eventful history: it survived the iconoclastic fury in the 16th century; Napoleon got it; and then the Nazi's almost blew it up (it was hidden in a salt mine in Austria). Now its back in the church, but in a side altar so they can charge to view.

Carrie and I also tried out the cherry beer, even though Stella Artois (my favorite beer) is actually FROM Belgium. I'll choose Stella next time since cherry beer tastes pretty much like it sounds.

Yep, Ghent is a pretty great - even if all you want to do is gaze at the architecture. The chocolate is pretty amazing too - and cherries are appreciated. If you're ever in Belgium, Ilsa recommends!

Abroad at Last

2006-11-01T19:45:00.000-07:00

Last week I left Calgary to get started on my new career of teaching English. There were still a couple minor details... getting a visa, for one. And then there's the logistics... how to get me and the stuff that is to keep me comfortable for the next nine months to Russia.

The cheap flight to Frankfurt was a no brainer; however, the next decision of train travel, as opposed to a quick flight, proved to be an adventure of its own. It only took one delayed train to screw up the rest of the trip from Frankfurt to the Hague (Holland). I had to switch four times - carrying this load. I'm talking stairs and escalators. Why are elevators always out of service when they're truly needed?

I found it difficult to maintain the elegance I pretended to have when hauling this stuff. At one point, a German gentleman insisted on carrying my big suitcase (which cost an extra $140 to fly) up some stairs. The Germans are really great that way but I'm sure he was cursing me after he broke all his nails on one hand (hopefully he thought I was American and not Canadian). Ouch!

The next morning (a few hours after waking my friend in middle of night) I headed to the Russian consulate office, conveniently located three blocks away. There were a few people lined up outside. No one offered any assistance so I pressed the bell - the bell was up three steep, narrow stairs so you have to step back down after ringing. A man peaked out and looked at me inquisitively. I looked up 'I'd like to apply for a tourist visa?' He gestured for me to wait then closed the door. So I waited, and waited, and waited. I got to know a little Japanese guy in the lineup. He told me his story. His company, which specializes in automotive parts, is sending him to Moscow for 4 years. He's not particularly looking forward to it but was really hopeful to get to get his visa on this day after trying on three previous occasions. He seemed to take it all in stride - maybe coming from another 'orderly' culture gave him an edge up.

When they let me, I remembered Alice in Wonderland and how she had no idea what was in store for her once she entered. In my case it was more waiting. The room was tiny but the waiting let me scope the rest of the goings on. There was a cashier with one lineup, a table for the 'screener' I first met to make sure the next visitors had the right lineup, and then the lineup which contained the most important authoritarian behind a cage at the end of it. The importance surrounding this person was obvious. All they had to say was 'yes' or 'no' - my fate was in their hands. In my case, she said 'no good', gesturing toward my Canadian-sized passport photo and something else I can't even remember anymore. Prior to this confrontation, I had a little help from a guy claiming to be 'special visa services'. He and three others were processing visas like nobody's business. They had stacks of passports and documents and would slip them in the cage when possible, sometimes letting lined-up folks, like myself, to take their turn. From observations on two consecutive days, it appears to be their job to lurk around there for the three hours the consulate office is open on week days. The guy who helped me (maybe because of the bewildered look on my face?) advised me to make some changes so I was back and forth a couple of times that day and ran out of time for the 'no good'changes I needed to make.

The second day went much smoother since I knew what to expect. The guy in charge barely looked at it and I got to go to the cashier lineup. I knew not to complain about the price as I had witnessed a dead, incredulous silence the previous day when some Dutch guy said in a loud voice ''Why so much?"

That taken care of, I had to wait out the five-day waiting period but, who cares, I was in Europe. I love Europe.

Stay tuned for more of my European Vacation.

Fall Foliage

2006-10-02T22:17:00.000-06:00

How's that for an exciting title? Aren't you glad I'm back?
Yep, my life slowed down a little when I came back to Canada. But hanging out with Ma & Pa in Lethbridge was actually pretty fun. Mom and I went for morning walks and Dad and I went grocery shopping for dinner - then we watched tv. The downside was I picked up a few too many extra pounds.

The weather is usually quite warm here - good thing because I had to walk in that lake to get mom's expensive sunglasses.

I liked walking through the hoodoos, watching out for rattlers.. pretty barren. Lethbridge boasts this bridge as the largest railway bridge in the world.

I made sure to follow the instructions on the sign.

Back in Cow Town, I stayed with my brother and his wife for a few weeks. I even worked a few days downtown - a great half hour walk along the river. Love those changing colours.

Before I turn into petrified wood I had better get going. Actually, I'm flying out tonight... guess where. Stay tuned!

Family Fun in Saskatchewan

2006-09-18T20:31:00.000-06:00

To surprise my mom and celebrate her 60th birthday (YES I'm young enough to have a mother who's only 60), my family met up in the thriving metropolis of Kerrobert, Saskatchewan... population 1100 (mostly my relatives).
My mom, along with the rest of my family, was born in this little town, but my siblings and I went to school in the neighboring, rival (smaller but tougher) town of Luseland. You can view more of this fine town on www.townofluseland.com. Each time I return, everything appears to have shrunk!

Aside from agriculture, there is still a lot of oil and gas production to keep the economy going. My sister's family are organic farmers which appears to be a profitable, but risky, business! Those are their boys in the peas - last year's crop! I didn't make it out to our family farm due to the muddy roads, but it was great to see my aunts, uncles, and cousins in town.

My sister put on a good spread while her husband produced the tunes and kept us entertained... featuring a variety of other 'unique' musical talents. The kids (they pump them out like rabbits there) were also amusing.
Take a look at these little rascals. Aren't they sweet!

The party was at Aunt Linda's place, where my Grandma used to have an apartment. We had spent Christmas there several years ago when Grandma was still around to oversee everything. It brought back some great memories. That, and the turkey that tasted oh so good. Thanks sister!

Home Sweet Home

2006-09-12T19:22:00.000-06:00

I'm back in Calgary, Canada for a while but anxious to get started on another adventure. I still don't have a definite plan but its in the works. Stay tuned.

In the meantime, I am appreciating the great things about being in Canada (like public washrooms and clean sidewalks). Although I only lived in Calgary 10 years, it has been good to me and, like many formerly native Saskatchewanites, I now consider it home. I have great friends and family here who have been putting me up, moving furniture, lending me little things like a car and a cell phone. I forget why I want to leave - oh yeah, adventure.

But there is lots to see and do here also, like spending the day at Spruce Meadows which hosts show jumping events, along with art exhibitions, ethnic food kiosks, and entertainment representing cultures around the world. All of this in a beautiful green setting with a rocky mountain backdrop - a great place to spend the day.

This is Danielle. I stayed with her and her big brother, Max, last week. She's lots of fun and just started to walk. Thank goodness she takes naps as I find it hard to keep up with her.

I miss my old place a little. I sold it last spring when the market was hot. I can't bring myself to drive past it yet but I believe that home is really where you hang your hat (or rest your head since I don't wear hats much). I'm free to go anytime but its comforting to know I can always come back to a city with friends, good food, and all the amenities anyone would ever need.

If you want to know more about this area where Dinosaurs once roamed, check out www.calgarytourism.ca/history.

I love the skyline in Calgary. Ilsa recommends!

Labour Day Weekend in Canada

2006-09-04T21:25:00.000-06:00

Certain circumstances required my presence in Canada for a short time so I'm back. After many, many hours - too many hours - of flying and airports, being stranded in Vancouver, and getting ripped off in London by my taxi driver (anyone need Cambodian coins?) I was happy to step foot on familiar soil. I arrived just in time for the long weekend.

Weather was fantastic and everything and everyone looked just great to me. I see the beauty in everything right now (still in tourist mode) but I'm sure that will pass the longer I stay... in fact the Calgary traffic almost made me swear today.

The Stamps won the Labour Day Classic against the hated Edmonton Eskimos. 35,000 fans filled the seats to capacity but one guy got loose and stripped running across the field in the 1st quarter (I guess he didn't know there is a $5000 fine for that now).

Mom and Dad came up from Lethbridge for the day and we all hung out in my brother's neighborhood of Inglewood. Inglewood is Calgary's oldest community and has many charming 20th Century homes, like the one my brother and his wife live in near the Bow River (80 yrs is 'old' in Canada). This community is vibrant with many decorator's boutiques and antique stores.

Dad and his son (okay, he's my brother) at Olivier's Candy store.

Inglewood has the largest used book store in Calgary. There's something for everyone where you can find something for everyone. I got a free book because I'm petty.

Diana and I at the most expensive martini bar ever. I'm not sure what happened while I was away but the prices here are worse than Europe.

Mom and I strolled along the Bow with Misha. My mom is great with animals.

The Glenmore Reservoir (I pretend its the pacific ocean) is great for hiking, biking, canoing, and picnics. I used to walk there a lot before I was homeless. Although the sun is shining, the smoke from the BC fires is keeping things hazy.

My friend, Pam, and I went for a walk near my old stomping grounds - Confederation Park. Its good to be home (for now).

Schaefmister

2006-09-03T22:15:00.000-06:00

For a youthful perspective of everyday life in Canada... well, Saskatchewan... uh ok a farm outside of Kerrobert... and with much content likely to focus on the Calgary Flame's hockey team... check out my nephew's blog http://www.derek34bb.blogspot.com/