Sorry for long delay between blog posts. Prior to leaving for vacation, life had
assumed a normalcy that did not lead to interesting things to write about. With our having returned from vacation, our
Russian adventure is now over half way complete. There will be another posting
in early June dealing with our vacation, but this should catch everyone up on
life here in Saratov.
New Friends
In the myriad of concerns I had while preparing to come over
here, the one I worried most about was our social life. We did not speak the
language, we did not understand the culture and our boys are just a little
active. Add that to the foreboding
images I was reading about the Russian in public and one could say I was a
little nervous about our prospects here.
While we have sure encountered the negative Russian stereotype, we have
also met Russians who have had the courage and caring to reach beyond language
and culture to find new friends.
The readers of this post are by now familiar with our friend
Max and his mom Olga. When Max came
tearing into that first snowball fight, Olga and I could have just stared at
each other over the abyss of language and culture. Olga decided to try and speak to me and
somehow we were able to arrange for the boys to play again. A great friendship between two families has
grown out of these first snowball fights and sledding trips.
Our friend Kolya does not speak English at all and his
mother does not either. In spite of
this, Kolya, an eight year old boy, decided he was going to be friends with
Patrick and Zac. Kolya did not
understand that this not how it is supposed to be, he just walked up to Patrick
and Zac and started speaking Russian.
Patrick, in particular, was not phased by the language barrier and
decided Kolya was pretty cool and soon a friendship was born on their common
love of playing in the park. Quite an
example the young men set for us adults.
Our latest friends are a multi-generational family that have
welcomed into their lives. Stepa is in
the boy's karate class and his mom, Anna, is fluent in English (she studied at
Colorado State University for a year).
While Anna's English and Stepan being a classmate are natural bridges to
friendship, I have been truly touched by the effort of Anna's father,
Alex, to become friends with me.
Alex usually waits for his grandson during karate class and
it is during these hours that we have become friends. On the surface, we do not have much in
common. Alex is sixty three, a retired
successful businessman, has been married forty two years and has raised two
successful daughters. Alex was born in, raised in and spent half his adult life
in a society openly hostile towards my country. (side note: I assume Alex was
successful before the Wall came down, but nobody talks about those days and I
have learned not to even broach the subject).
If age and culture were not barriers enough to friendship, Alex speaks
NO English. These various roadblocks
would have deterred many a person, but Alex was did not hesitate to offer a
hand of kindness.
Once Alex realized I was American, he walked right up to me and started telling
me (in Russian) about his daughter, Anna,
having gone to CSU. Since that
first conversation (which I just barely understood), Alex and I have figured
out a way to communicate that is not reliant on translators. I bring a little notebook and we use my very
limited Russian, our limited artistic skills and hand signs to talk about basic
subjects like school, family and common activities. To be sure, we are not solving the world's
problems, but we have become good enough friends that Alex invited us to his
house the two days before we left on vacation.
Anna picked us up and drove us out for an afternoon barbeque
with Alex and his wife, Tatiana, at their house on the outskirts of
Saratov. While I could go on and on
about the perfectly designed garden, the private banya (sauna) and room for the
kids to play, let me just say that Karen and I had not felt as at peace
anywhere else in Russia as we did in Alex's backyard. The peace we felt at Alex's house was not
really due to the amenities, because the real peace came from being around a
family that was kind, caring and willing to give us a glimpse of their life in
Russia. As we left Alex's house, Karen
and I could not help but notice how similar the day had been to countless
afternoons spent with our families in the state. I can think of no greater compliment to give
Alex and his family than to say we felt at home in his backyard. I hope when Karen and I have lived our lives
and are in our dotage, that we remember the kindness of Alex to strangers and
that we reach out to the new people in our community to ensure they feel at
home.
I would be remiss in talking about such a wonderful day if I
did not talk about the food. The table
that Alex and Tatiana set was full of locally grown vegetables and the pork
kebabs were made with never frozen pork bought from a trusted butcher. It is a point of pride for many Russians to
buy fresh meat from a trusted butcher, because "one can never trust the
supermarket." After three months of
eating the fresh food available here, Karen and I have come to believe that a
fresh, locally sourced diet will become a priority of ours when we get home.
The pork had been marinated overnight in a vat of water,
vinegar, onions, salt and pepper and then the onion and pork were made into
kebabs; other spices, we were told, were not used due to recipes having evolved
in the Soviet era when there were no spices to be had. Once the kebabs were done and placed on the
table, they were joined by a bounty of flavors from the fresh vegetables that
were used to provided spice and flavor. Instead of McCormick spices from a jar,
the table had raw radishes, scallions
and parsley to infuse flavor. The kebabs alone were SPECTACULAR, but adding
the fresh flavors made the meal just magnificent.
As the meal got underway, Karen and I were introduced to the
Russian toast,er, toasts. When I sat down at the table, there was an unopened
bottle of Armenian Cognac (Armenian Cognac was the best in Soviet Era) that
Alex had bought specifically for our visit.
When I saw that bottle, my only thought was "Uh oh, here we
go.." I had read about the
importance of toasts, the impoliteness of not participating and I figured this
was my moment to become Russian. While I
managed to survive the toasts by eating the prodigious amounts of food Alex
kept putting on my plate, the bottle of cognac did not survive the meal. Nope, the bottle was consumed in the Russia
way of drinking congac; Alex would poor us shots, we would drink them neat and
then we would take a big bite of fresh lemon.
I had never tasted cognac before, but it was delicious the way Alex
served it.
Karate
When we left for Russia, we had no plans to enroll the boys
in karate. I am not even sure we had
plans to enroll them into any sports due to language barreirs, but Karen
started noticing a malaise in the boys and asked Victoria to help us find an
activity. In the States, this would have
meant go to the Y and getting them signed up for their choice of activities. In Russia, we thought the language barrier
would be very hard to solve, but we were lucky to find a karate Sensei that
spoke some English and was willing to take the boys in his class. We signed them up immediately and the boys
are thriving in karate class for very different reasons.
Zac loves the physicality of karate (BIG SHOCK, I
know). Zac loves that he gets to fight
(spar), run, punch, kick and screamand not get in trouble for two hours
on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.
Mommy and Daddy think this is a great release for Zac, but we also like
that Zac is learning that he must pay attention to Sensei if he wants to do
well in the sparring matches. Zac did
not understand this at first, because he was fighting the lower belts and using
his strength and agression to compete with lesser skilled opponents. Sensei saw this and introduced Zac to the
higher belts. After a couple of rounds
with brown belts, Zac stopped screwing around in class and started to understand
he better develop technique or learn to like getting punched. Zac developing the idea of focus at karate
has helped him start to develop a focus in academics that both his teachers and
I had observed he was missing. Combine Zac's love of the action, his
learning to focus and that he is worn out by Sensei and we have a wonderful
activity for Zac.
The fact that Patrick loves karate might be the most
pleasant surprise of our entire Russian adventure. I must say that I have enjoyed watching
Patrick learn to transfer what his mind understands to his hands and feet,
because I was more than a little concerned for Patrick on the first day. I was worried that Patrick may not have the
temperment for karate, but Patrick loves learning the techniques and applying
them in the sparring matches. Right from
the first day, it was clear that Patrick liked the sparring and that he would
be an excellent tactician once his hands caught with his mind, Over the past month, Patrick hands and feet
have caught up with his brain enough that Sensei will not let Patrick and Zac
spar any more. Sensei separates the boys
because Patrick dominates the matches; Patrick has seen Zac's aggression for
years and just relies on his superior technique to deal with his brother's
attacks and the matches are not close.
Combine Patrick's growing physical confidence with the fact that Sensei
has gotten him to eat more food in order to get stronger and we have a great
activity for Patrick. It really is cool
to see Patrick hands and head working together.
Random Observation of the Week
White belt or not, ZacStephen is still not the kid one wants
to pick on. A blue belt was having a bad
day and decided it would be a good idea to pick on the smallest white belt in
class. Zac is the smallest white belt in class and let's just say that was a
dumb idea on the blue belt's part. The
best part of this story is that Zac did everything right in trying to avoid a
confrontation, but the blue belt cornered him and then Zac dealt with him. Of
course, my first clue that something was amiss was when I kept hearing the word
Zac in a world class dressing down being delivered in Russian. Fortunately one of the parents was able to
tell me that it was the blue belt being chewed out by Sensei for picking on
Zac. The same parent also informed me
that the blue belt in question was a notoriously difficult child.
