Often the irony of life in Vladivostok has meant that for one reason or another I haven't really been able to describe life here very well to those who'd like to hear about it. One reason comes at times when nothing much is going on, and the general mood has been a bit melancholy, and therefore there really isn't much inspiration to write either e-mails or blog entries about news here. The other reason is at play when there's a lot going on, when the mood picks up, but when there's just so little time to write something about the developments and news. We've gone from a winter of a lot of the former to a spring with already a bunch of the latter, so I feel I need to force myself again to at least try to write entries to the blog a bit more often and make them a bit shorter, just so I can get the news out the door. It feels like I've been jotting down ideas of what I want to report throughout the past month since the previous entry, only to lack the time to really edit it well, and then I watch as things change yet again, and the news of the day or the week shifts. I need to catch things more often and offer them up so that you can see them!
Play
The Pink Elephant is no more. Sometimes it seems like all the good things in Vlad just end or disappear right after you've found them and have started to get used to them being a joyful part of your life. I was pretty bummed about the closure right after I became aware of it, just before May Day. But then I decided we should just get right back up on the horse again and check on another local Montessori center I'd heard about for the under-3 set. Who knows, I told myself, maybe this one will actually be better than the P.E.! Then, in the couple of weeks after the Pink Elephant breathed its last, life of course sort of oozed into the cracks where that activity had been fitting, and after one frustrating unsuccessful phone call to get the basic info on "Vershina" ("Summit" -- a decidedly less interesting name...), it took me a little while to make another attempt to get us signed up and try it. An update on the new place will follow in the next post.
We did exchange phone numbers with the class leader from the Pink E. with whom we clicked the best, though -- Vika. Well, since we encountered three different leaders there in our 3 months of going, all of whom were named Vika, that isn't very precise. But we know which one we mean, and we are planning to meet her tomorrow for our first attempt at the children's performances that are given at the Regional Philharmonic. Tomorrow will be "The Ugly Duckling." I told you, there is so much going on, I need to set myself to writing a little shorter posts a little more often to really report it all on time -- so news of performances will have to go in the next entry, too.
Drive
OK, I admit that I was kind of a whiner about the car. It probably sounded like I was a spoiled brat who couldn't bear to take public transportation (except that, for those of you who have seen our location, really, it is not the easiest place to move around from without a car, am I right?). It was mainly the shopping (getting there and back AND lugging groceries or other purchases, e.g. big bags of diapers) that I did not relish having to do on buses. But, to be honest, I've actually had fun this past month viewing the city from a new perspective, taking the bus and marshrutka (minivan fixed-route taxi) to get around when it's just me and my work. And what has undoubtedly allowed me to have that fun was our decision to go ahead and use the car a limited amount, for grocery shopping and going places with Anya, just to try to stay off of it, like a bad ankle, as much as we can. Well, that, and the fact that it really is finally spring.
For some of the places I need to be for my research and writing, the bus can actually be a better way to get around. Right now I'm working at the state archive down next to the railroad station, and sometimes at the regional medical library, down across from a large candy factory and just up the hill from the regional clinical hospital (and upstairs from the regional blood bank - just in case!). Both of them are on easy and reliable bus routes, just a single bus to get there and back. And taking the bus certainly lets you see your surroundings in a different way. I'm really able to look around in a way that isn't possible when you're driving -- I see the ads for the latest performances in town, plastered on all the fences (Tibetan yaks at the Vlad Circus, anyone?), notice new businesses that either just opened or never caught my eye before. And you're just able to coexist with people in a more direct (if anonymous) way on the bus than driving around in a car lets you.
(And about the car itself: oh, it is a long and drawn-out saga indeed. Let's see, when I last reported in, we had had our steering wheel mauled by a particularly mal-meaning Russian mechanic, had made first contact with Nissan USA, who then made first contact, before first light, with the Riverside branch of the family. Everything from there just kind of got more and more mired in the muck. The well-meaning Nissan rep apparently gave us the wrong contact number, so all of Dan's increasingly urgent calls over the last two weeks of March went unheard. A few more calls at hours when most of us are asleep, to Riverside and to Vlad, and we determined that nothing this side of Irkutsk has enough of a legitimate connection to the Nissan corporation for the folks to send the part. But we determined we could get reimbursed for a part and labor we paid for directly, as long as Nissan is on the bill(s). Dan immediately ordered the part from a dealership in Virginia and our feet seemed to be loosening from the mire.
Cut to this week, when the part finally arrived via diplomatic pouch (no special delays, that's just how long it takes), and Dan goes with the help of a friend and colleague to begin getting the work done. One disappointing moment is when we learn that indeed neither of the 2 places that appear to have a connection to Nissan have enough of a true claim on the name to put it on their official bill. But the more depressing and frustrating news arrived when the better of the 2 choices of mechanic, apparently a thoughtful guy who was very willing to hear Dan out and not leap in where he didn't have enough information or didn't know what the heck he was doing, noticed that THE PART SENT BY THE U.S. MECHANIC GOT BROKEN IN THE MAIL! So, who knows what recourse we have with them: as Dan notes, they probably just threw the thing in a box to our Dulles address, not taking into account the beating it might take between State Department warehouse and plane, etc., and if they hear the whole transit itinerary they will surely withdraw all responsibility for its loss of integrity en route. We are just heading into the weekend, so we haven't had a chance yet to take stock or investigate what our next steps are. All I can say is: what a royal hassle!)
Work
Whether thanks to the bus, or spring, or just an unrelated change in momentum, my research is resurgent. I returned to the archives in March and I've finally found a lot of interesting primary documents on regional public health and tick-borne encephalitis. I have a bunch of things I hope to get a chance to look at (and the time left is just starting to seem like perhaps too little to get through it -- but regardless I'll have time to collect a bunch of interesting stuff).
It's also just fun to be back in the archives, after an absence essentially since last summer, before I took the Consulate job. There is a weird kind of feeling you get working there and being accepted by the ladies who run the reading rooms, one of whom especially here in Vlad is very serious and bureaucratic until you crack her, and she then really is friendly and supportive when you need it. It sounds good, but there's a weird side that emerges when you see someone flailing who hasn't cracked the unsmiling exterior, and you feel a little superior and comfortable in your position -- I don't necessarily like that feeling, but somehow having a little success in Russia in the face of adversity can do that to you.
My experience generally in archives so far in my career, primarily during my dissertation research, was a very needle-in-a-haystack experience, mainly because of my topic. I think that feeling is actually pretty much par for the course in archival work, but I suspect that the way my dissertation topic was defined so very differently from the way the archives were organized (and from the way any Russian asks questions of Russian history), it made it difficult to easily pinpoint what files might be useful. But now, simply by virtue of the fact that I'm interested in a particular disease, one that has a regional significance, for the first time in my work I've actually had the experience of writing in my notes "Jackpot!," after finding a file titled "Data about the morbidity and mortality of tick-borne encephalitis and malaria for 1940-41."
A Brief Update
What we're saying:
This month we have turned to verbs! And we're just recently getting into prepositions, noticing when those that are essential to a particular verb get attached to words in English. So, "put your shoes on" gets repeated as "shuzon"; "let's take your hood off" becomes "hoodoff."
tawai! = "vstavai!" ("get up!" in Russian)
go-oup = go/get up
syajish! = "syadis'!" ("sit down!" in Russian)
shiji! = "sit!" or "sit there!" in Russian
sit down! (very well enunciated - no need to translate - and almost always all of these sit-related imperatives are directed at "Beah," the funny little stuffed puppy whose species in the sleep-deprived mode of new parents we evidently could not identify, and thus he received the name "Rabbit-Bear," which for Anya is now and will surely always be "Beah.")
want (another one that really is pronounced pretty much on target, and is starting to be used to good effect.)
no (unfortunately this one is now in VERY wide usage. I know it would have gotten in there inevitably at some point, but I think I can actually trace its integration pretty well to the week we received a gift from Cousin Stacey and family: a really good little book, "Where's Spot?," whose refrain in every location where Spot is sought is, sadly, "no." Anya picked up on it very quickly and has run with it.)
pway! = play!
syuda = this way, over here in Russian
syagi = sadik, "preschool" (what I call Montessori center) in Russian
bai-sik-ull = bicycle (a real obsession for some reason, surely related to the appearance of our neighbors' tricycle outside, Anya's recent notice of the adult bikes perched unused downstairs in our house, and the existence of a picture of a trike on one of her blocks)
yogurr = yogurt (more to report next time, but I'll note here that we have ourselves a fan of homemade yogurt. And a person who has trouble distinguishing between the concepts "yoga" and "yogurt" when they are referred to too close together in conversation.)
syippah = slipper
tapogi = tapochki, "slipper" in Russian (For some reason, the little slippers with the velcro closure that I picked up on sale for the equivalent of about $7 at the local Bubbl-Goom store are a real hit.)
caw = car
mahina = mashina, "car" in Russian
crukk = truck
bussss! = bus (often followed by the comment "biiiig!" and more often followed by the comment "noi[se]" -- and in general when the identifying-vehicles mood strikes, it seems like every third one is a bus, so this word gets a whole lot of play.)
Showing posts with label car. Show all posts
Showing posts with label car. Show all posts
Monday, May 12, 2008
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Coming Home
We're back, once again, at home in Vlad, after our "Rest and Recreation" trip to the United States.
It's strange, since we've made this transition back plenty of times now, with all of our travels, but it's still jarring in a new way each time we return from a trip. This time weather probably plays some part: we traveled at perhaps the best time of year to Southern California and Arizona, and had what passes for great summer weather to us by now, with temps in the upper 70s and low to mid 80s the whole time, and mostly sunny. (We also had our grownups' getaway to the Bay Area, where it was a little chillier of course, cf. Mark Twain and all that "coldest winter" commentary; but that was more about other kinds of fulfillment than what the weather can give.)
There are certainly other things banging around in our heads that are making us nervous this time around on the return end -- our ever more closely impending permanent departure from Vlad is certainly one of them. (We will probably leave in July or so, but, without a firm plan, our approach to these last 3-4 months [ulp!] in Vlad and the logistical preparations for the move are just a bit more anxious.) But mainly we continue to try to re-establish routines and work enjoyable and satisfying things into our lives, as always.
Our Vehicle, Off Road
Unfortunately, just as it seemed we were close to obtaining that precarious balance again, we discovered a problem with our car. First the steering wheel was a tiny bit loose, and then we took it in to what apparently passes for a Nissan service center in Vlad, where Dan watched the "master" (Russian for mechanic) poke, pry and manhandle the steering wheel much more violently than he felt comfortable with, as he tried to get in there to disengage the airbag and see what was wrong. Their diagnosis was that we need a part that must be ordered from the US (since it's a US model car, not Japanese, which is the norm here), so we are in a bit of limbo.
In principle, the car can be driven, and Dan has talked to more than one American Nissan repair place (in which we have a bit more faith, although of course they haven't seen the car), where he's been told that it is unlikely to be unsafe to drive it rarely. But when your house is perched on an outcrop and you can either tumble down a steep and dusty path to one of the main bus arteries, or pick your way over a similarly dusty path up to the main road, without sidewalks, to catch a minivan taxi-bus into the center, and when you are used to driving around town both for work and for many errands, the prospect of having to use a combination of feet, public transportation, and taxis to accomplish your routine activities and keep the household running is daunting. (And unfortunately, since Nissan USA has trouble figuring time zones and area codes, a certain household in Riverside is also feeling some of our pain in the form of early morning phone calls....)
[I originally had a section here with some thoughts about food, but I wasn't happy with it -- I need to think some of this through better and then I'll put it back up in edited form.]
The Roundup:
What we're watching:
more "Arrested Development" on DVD
all the boring movies Lisa accidentally allowed to surface at the top of our Netflix queue (oops!), starting with "The Battle of Algiers" (yes, I know, we are philistines, but it all sounds well and good and edifying until you have just put your kid to bed and the last thing you want to watch is a subtitled movie from 1966 that will broaden your appreciation for what has happened in Iraq and perhaps much of the rest of the Middle East... You really want something to make you laugh.) (But, that said, we did like it.)
What we're listening to:
can't get enough of that crazy "Upper West Side Soweto" mix on Vampire Weekend's album (who let them describe their music that way??)
finally, the new Diggs album!
yet more Feist
the live In-Concert-at-MKhat stylings of Garik Sukachev
What we're saying, in the US and in Russia:
fingum = finger
hmumm = thumb
yabbi = rabbit
oyey = ears
sseepie = sleepy
izzi = Izzy, Judy and David's dog
Gnamma, Nimma = Grandma
Gha-pah = Grandpa
fann-ee = funny
ma-mom = gabonk, the splash-accompaniment sound made in the pool when you slap your cupped hand into the water
bop = (in addition to bread) "pop," the sound made when your Grandma undoes your buckle
bakk-l = aforementioned buckle (and when you want a big person to help you buckle it and unbuckle it ad infinitem, that's the word you want to repeat over and over and over again)
hman = fan, as in ceiling fans, of which there are many in the Old Pueblo, aka Tucson
tapp! = stopped!, as in, "The fan has been stopped!"
fokk = fork
hmun = spoon (excellent progress has been made on the utensil front)
ba-yell = bottle (not such great progress has been made on the bottle-weaning front)
yizza = lizard
fwow = flower, pronounced early and often in the lush spring landscape of the Southwest US
yakki = jacket
buud = bird
wokk = work
manum = building (these last 2 said often, together with noi [=noise] and man, to describe what's happening at the handful of construction sites visible from our outdoor play and strolling area)
syo = vsyo, Russian for "that's all" or "I'm done"
kudtka = kurtka, Russian for jacket
And I should add that many of these words are now employed in combinations that appear to be proto-sentences. Such as: "Tay-tay sseepie. Sseeps." (?? Why, "Sanchez is sleepy. He's sleeping," of course.) Or: "Man. Noi. Manum. Wokk." ("Those men are making noise and working on the building.") Very exciting developments!
It's strange, since we've made this transition back plenty of times now, with all of our travels, but it's still jarring in a new way each time we return from a trip. This time weather probably plays some part: we traveled at perhaps the best time of year to Southern California and Arizona, and had what passes for great summer weather to us by now, with temps in the upper 70s and low to mid 80s the whole time, and mostly sunny. (We also had our grownups' getaway to the Bay Area, where it was a little chillier of course, cf. Mark Twain and all that "coldest winter" commentary; but that was more about other kinds of fulfillment than what the weather can give.)
There are certainly other things banging around in our heads that are making us nervous this time around on the return end -- our ever more closely impending permanent departure from Vlad is certainly one of them. (We will probably leave in July or so, but, without a firm plan, our approach to these last 3-4 months [ulp!] in Vlad and the logistical preparations for the move are just a bit more anxious.) But mainly we continue to try to re-establish routines and work enjoyable and satisfying things into our lives, as always.
Our Vehicle, Off Road
Unfortunately, just as it seemed we were close to obtaining that precarious balance again, we discovered a problem with our car. First the steering wheel was a tiny bit loose, and then we took it in to what apparently passes for a Nissan service center in Vlad, where Dan watched the "master" (Russian for mechanic) poke, pry and manhandle the steering wheel much more violently than he felt comfortable with, as he tried to get in there to disengage the airbag and see what was wrong. Their diagnosis was that we need a part that must be ordered from the US (since it's a US model car, not Japanese, which is the norm here), so we are in a bit of limbo.
In principle, the car can be driven, and Dan has talked to more than one American Nissan repair place (in which we have a bit more faith, although of course they haven't seen the car), where he's been told that it is unlikely to be unsafe to drive it rarely. But when your house is perched on an outcrop and you can either tumble down a steep and dusty path to one of the main bus arteries, or pick your way over a similarly dusty path up to the main road, without sidewalks, to catch a minivan taxi-bus into the center, and when you are used to driving around town both for work and for many errands, the prospect of having to use a combination of feet, public transportation, and taxis to accomplish your routine activities and keep the household running is daunting. (And unfortunately, since Nissan USA has trouble figuring time zones and area codes, a certain household in Riverside is also feeling some of our pain in the form of early morning phone calls....)
[I originally had a section here with some thoughts about food, but I wasn't happy with it -- I need to think some of this through better and then I'll put it back up in edited form.]
The Roundup:
What we're watching:
more "Arrested Development" on DVD
all the boring movies Lisa accidentally allowed to surface at the top of our Netflix queue (oops!), starting with "The Battle of Algiers" (yes, I know, we are philistines, but it all sounds well and good and edifying until you have just put your kid to bed and the last thing you want to watch is a subtitled movie from 1966 that will broaden your appreciation for what has happened in Iraq and perhaps much of the rest of the Middle East... You really want something to make you laugh.) (But, that said, we did like it.)
What we're listening to:
can't get enough of that crazy "Upper West Side Soweto" mix on Vampire Weekend's album (who let them describe their music that way??)
finally, the new Diggs album!
yet more Feist
the live In-Concert-at-MKhat stylings of Garik Sukachev
What we're saying, in the US and in Russia:
fingum = finger
hmumm = thumb
yabbi = rabbit
oyey = ears
sseepie = sleepy
izzi = Izzy, Judy and David's dog
Gnamma, Nimma = Grandma
Gha-pah = Grandpa
fann-ee = funny
ma-mom = gabonk, the splash-accompaniment sound made in the pool when you slap your cupped hand into the water
bop = (in addition to bread) "pop," the sound made when your Grandma undoes your buckle
bakk-l = aforementioned buckle (and when you want a big person to help you buckle it and unbuckle it ad infinitem, that's the word you want to repeat over and over and over again)
hman = fan, as in ceiling fans, of which there are many in the Old Pueblo, aka Tucson
tapp! = stopped!, as in, "The fan has been stopped!"
fokk = fork
hmun = spoon (excellent progress has been made on the utensil front)
ba-yell = bottle (not such great progress has been made on the bottle-weaning front)
yizza = lizard
fwow = flower, pronounced early and often in the lush spring landscape of the Southwest US
yakki = jacket
buud = bird
wokk = work
manum = building (these last 2 said often, together with noi [=noise] and man, to describe what's happening at the handful of construction sites visible from our outdoor play and strolling area)
syo = vsyo, Russian for "that's all" or "I'm done"
kudtka = kurtka, Russian for jacket
And I should add that many of these words are now employed in combinations that appear to be proto-sentences. Such as: "Tay-tay sseepie. Sseeps." (?? Why, "Sanchez is sleepy. He's sleeping," of course.) Or: "Man. Noi. Manum. Wokk." ("Those men are making noise and working on the building.") Very exciting developments!
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Impressions From a Spring Drive
What a great day for a drive yesterday!
Went out to work at my usual research haunt right now: the Central Library of the Far Eastern Branch of the Russian Academy of Sciences. Sounds quite impressive, but in fact it occupies just a small part of the Geology Institute building, and the reading room is a cute little space where rarely more than one or two other people are working when I am there. I've settled into a nice rhythm, going there 1-2 times a week, and the ladies who work there (and one man, in the reference section) know me now and are very friendly.
Drove the one route out of town (for some reason Vlad is laid out in an awkward way in a lot of places, with only one route between points A and B, or a route that makes drivers do some strange maneuver, which easily causes bottlenecks on the road*), "Vladivostok's Hundred-Year Anniversary Boulevard." Used the informal, semi-legal "diplo-" and "VIP-lane" when the traffic got messy -- this is how the left shoulder gets used when there are back-ups. (Yes, I probably shouldn't participate in this assertion of grey-area privilege, but I only do it every once in a while.)
Out beyond "Spark" shopping center, I passed those grass dividers that have gotten covered in fuzzy yellow dandelion heads in the last week or so. Was disappointed to see the hard-working road and landscaping crews cutting the grass and clearing away the carpet of yellow. At least the recently planted tulips are still there, still adding a surprising and somewhat incongruous decorative touch to a few of the main thoroughfares in town.
Found myself very easily anticipating specific potholes that I've come to know with some precision. Some of them by now are repaired (poorly, for the most part), which tends to puncture that feeling of satisfaction you get when you maneuver just right to avoid the phantom rough patch.
Lowered the windows and turned up the Shins and sang along.
Raised the windows and switched the air to "recycle" as I passed a truck spewing terrible exhaust my way.
Made the scary lefthand turn into the Academy of Sciences campus off of "Anniversary" Boulevard once it turns into more of a highway (but without the comfy exit structure), where you have to just hope that the people approaching you from the rear are looking ahead of themselves and can merge in toward the right in order to pass you as you hang out waiting for a break in oncoming traffic. Almost thought I'd made a wrong turn when I didn't recognize the road right away, with the explosion of new growth on the trees, a combination of leaves and blossoms. The fuller boughs hung over the little descending road toward the library and made that short drive feel very different.
Did my hour and a half of reading, especially enjoying a new document I had ordered on the 1930s investigations into tick-borne encephalitis, which at that time was a mystifying new disease (I know, fascinating!).
Left and made my my return trip along "Anniversary" -- even though you make a right turn this time to enter, you still kind of have to find your inner tough-guy to peel out into the quick-moving traffic and then avoid the slow-moving bus on your right, etc. Cruised into the outer limits of the older part of town, after crossing the gully where the First River flows, and sped toward the mini cloverleaf where Gogol Street begins, Red Banner Prospect rises above on stilts, and a crazy patchwork of pedestrian stairs and overpasses crisscrosses all the streets. Felt the exhilaration of making a smooth left turn and corkscrew entry upward onto Red Banner, and successfully navigating of one of those merges into ongoing traffic where the drivers doesn't appear to notice you or slow down at all to help.
Made a brief stop at the grocery store on the way home, and pulled up to the "shlagbaum" (lifting gate) that controls access to the diplo-townhouses with a few minutes to spare for putting away the food and grabbing myself some lunch before Marina's nanny shift ended. Whew! What a good morning -- I guess not all of that description means much if you haven't seen the city, but hopefully soon some of you will be able to imagine what I am talking about here...
------------
* Not to mention the lack of traffic signals in this town! That really is a topic deserving of a whole 'nother post, as they say.
Went out to work at my usual research haunt right now: the Central Library of the Far Eastern Branch of the Russian Academy of Sciences. Sounds quite impressive, but in fact it occupies just a small part of the Geology Institute building, and the reading room is a cute little space where rarely more than one or two other people are working when I am there. I've settled into a nice rhythm, going there 1-2 times a week, and the ladies who work there (and one man, in the reference section) know me now and are very friendly.
Drove the one route out of town (for some reason Vlad is laid out in an awkward way in a lot of places, with only one route between points A and B, or a route that makes drivers do some strange maneuver, which easily causes bottlenecks on the road*), "Vladivostok's Hundred-Year Anniversary Boulevard." Used the informal, semi-legal "diplo-" and "VIP-lane" when the traffic got messy -- this is how the left shoulder gets used when there are back-ups. (Yes, I probably shouldn't participate in this assertion of grey-area privilege, but I only do it every once in a while.)
Out beyond "Spark" shopping center, I passed those grass dividers that have gotten covered in fuzzy yellow dandelion heads in the last week or so. Was disappointed to see the hard-working road and landscaping crews cutting the grass and clearing away the carpet of yellow. At least the recently planted tulips are still there, still adding a surprising and somewhat incongruous decorative touch to a few of the main thoroughfares in town.
Found myself very easily anticipating specific potholes that I've come to know with some precision. Some of them by now are repaired (poorly, for the most part), which tends to puncture that feeling of satisfaction you get when you maneuver just right to avoid the phantom rough patch.
Lowered the windows and turned up the Shins and sang along.
Raised the windows and switched the air to "recycle" as I passed a truck spewing terrible exhaust my way.
Made the scary lefthand turn into the Academy of Sciences campus off of "Anniversary" Boulevard once it turns into more of a highway (but without the comfy exit structure), where you have to just hope that the people approaching you from the rear are looking ahead of themselves and can merge in toward the right in order to pass you as you hang out waiting for a break in oncoming traffic. Almost thought I'd made a wrong turn when I didn't recognize the road right away, with the explosion of new growth on the trees, a combination of leaves and blossoms. The fuller boughs hung over the little descending road toward the library and made that short drive feel very different.
Did my hour and a half of reading, especially enjoying a new document I had ordered on the 1930s investigations into tick-borne encephalitis, which at that time was a mystifying new disease (I know, fascinating!).
Left and made my my return trip along "Anniversary" -- even though you make a right turn this time to enter, you still kind of have to find your inner tough-guy to peel out into the quick-moving traffic and then avoid the slow-moving bus on your right, etc. Cruised into the outer limits of the older part of town, after crossing the gully where the First River flows, and sped toward the mini cloverleaf where Gogol Street begins, Red Banner Prospect rises above on stilts, and a crazy patchwork of pedestrian stairs and overpasses crisscrosses all the streets. Felt the exhilaration of making a smooth left turn and corkscrew entry upward onto Red Banner, and successfully navigating of one of those merges into ongoing traffic where the drivers doesn't appear to notice you or slow down at all to help.
Made a brief stop at the grocery store on the way home, and pulled up to the "shlagbaum" (lifting gate) that controls access to the diplo-townhouses with a few minutes to spare for putting away the food and grabbing myself some lunch before Marina's nanny shift ended. Whew! What a good morning -- I guess not all of that description means much if you haven't seen the city, but hopefully soon some of you will be able to imagine what I am talking about here...
------------
* Not to mention the lack of traffic signals in this town! That really is a topic deserving of a whole 'nother post, as they say.
Saturday, April 07, 2007
Sproing
These days it really seems like spring has genuinely sprung in Vlad. I was superstitiously knocking on wood every time I made reference to this for the last few weeks. But now -- despite the weird snow flurries that blustered in briefly without sticking, on an otherwise sunny Wednesday this past week, and distracting my students to no end -- I think it is safe to really call it a new season.
Perhaps the funniest (funny-peculiar; not exactly “ha-ha funny”) part about the thaw and spring in Vlad is the way the roads have possibly gotten worse rather than better. As Dan remarked the other day, we thought that the time was nearly passed when we would be thankful for our 4-wheel-drive vehicle every time we drove. Not so. Yes, the snow that was heaped up very high along the roads, and in random large piles in most parking areas (to our chagrin, but that's another story), for the most part has melted. (That doesn’t mean that the drifts that accumulated in the passageway behind our townhouses have disappeared. It must be the lack of direct sunlight, but unfortunately a dusty, dirty wedge of icy snow remains in about a third of the space back there, covering what I recall to have been grass when it was last visible.) But with the snow on the roads gone, and with a few weeks of temps that hovered around freezing, and with the apparently lower quality paving materials that must be used here, and with those honking-big buses that lurch and bounce up and down the thoroughfares, Vlad’s streets are actually an unholy disaster now, minefields full of potholes big and small. Traffic may not be restricted to a thin flow on snowbound roads, but instead everyone slows to a crawl to avoid ruining their cars’ suspension on the craters that have appeared all over the place. A Russian colleague of Dan’s agreed that lower quality materials are used: in fact, she claims they are used on purpose, in order to ensure fuller employment come spring!
We are enjoying our first visitor this weekend: our friend Melissa, with whom Dan worked in Washington, was touring the region and was able to make a stop in Vladivostok before heading home. We welcomed her with a homemade deep-dish pizza yesterday for dinner, and today we hope that the predicted rain won’t appear and the morning fog will clear so that we can take a drive and show her around the city and the surrounding countryside along the peninsula. Tonight we may buy some seafood to cook at home, and tomorrow night we are aiming for dinner with some local friends at a Georgian restaurant that we like. (Hint, hint: all this and more can be yours if you think you can handle a Vlad vacation…!)
Last but not least of the current happenings, I suppose, is our plan to take ourselves and Anya on a short bus trip to northern China late next week. The trip is organized by the Russian government, and Dan was invited as a consulate employee, and family members are also allowed to go. They may regret their decision to allow a Person of Diminutive Stature and as-yet Fewer Than Eight Months of Life on the bus, but we’ll do everything in our power not to inspire such disappointment. Hopefully it will be fun -- the primary destination is Yanji, which is the capital of China’s autonomous Korean province (which I had no idea existed until we got to Vlad -- shows how much I know about anything!). One of the frustrating things about the travel we expected to try to do on our own here in the Far East is the fact that our Russian visas do not allow us to leave the country at exit points other than the airport, even though geographically we are tantalizingly close to the Chinese border. (Russians actually cross it all the time for cheap shopping in border towns -- think Tijuana or Nogales with less tequila and more egg rolls.) All of which means that this bus trip, taken under the protective arm of Russian officialdom itself, ironically appears to be one of the only ways for us to make that relatively short overland journey to China and rest assured we aren't violating our visa rules. Hey, we’ll look at it as a test-drive: if it’s fun and the munchkin cooperates, maybe we’ll fly to Shanghai or something for a little more tourism sometime soon!
Perhaps the funniest (funny-peculiar; not exactly “ha-ha funny”) part about the thaw and spring in Vlad is the way the roads have possibly gotten worse rather than better. As Dan remarked the other day, we thought that the time was nearly passed when we would be thankful for our 4-wheel-drive vehicle every time we drove. Not so. Yes, the snow that was heaped up very high along the roads, and in random large piles in most parking areas (to our chagrin, but that's another story), for the most part has melted. (That doesn’t mean that the drifts that accumulated in the passageway behind our townhouses have disappeared. It must be the lack of direct sunlight, but unfortunately a dusty, dirty wedge of icy snow remains in about a third of the space back there, covering what I recall to have been grass when it was last visible.) But with the snow on the roads gone, and with a few weeks of temps that hovered around freezing, and with the apparently lower quality paving materials that must be used here, and with those honking-big buses that lurch and bounce up and down the thoroughfares, Vlad’s streets are actually an unholy disaster now, minefields full of potholes big and small. Traffic may not be restricted to a thin flow on snowbound roads, but instead everyone slows to a crawl to avoid ruining their cars’ suspension on the craters that have appeared all over the place. A Russian colleague of Dan’s agreed that lower quality materials are used: in fact, she claims they are used on purpose, in order to ensure fuller employment come spring!
We are enjoying our first visitor this weekend: our friend Melissa, with whom Dan worked in Washington, was touring the region and was able to make a stop in Vladivostok before heading home. We welcomed her with a homemade deep-dish pizza yesterday for dinner, and today we hope that the predicted rain won’t appear and the morning fog will clear so that we can take a drive and show her around the city and the surrounding countryside along the peninsula. Tonight we may buy some seafood to cook at home, and tomorrow night we are aiming for dinner with some local friends at a Georgian restaurant that we like. (Hint, hint: all this and more can be yours if you think you can handle a Vlad vacation…!)
Last but not least of the current happenings, I suppose, is our plan to take ourselves and Anya on a short bus trip to northern China late next week. The trip is organized by the Russian government, and Dan was invited as a consulate employee, and family members are also allowed to go. They may regret their decision to allow a Person of Diminutive Stature and as-yet Fewer Than Eight Months of Life on the bus, but we’ll do everything in our power not to inspire such disappointment. Hopefully it will be fun -- the primary destination is Yanji, which is the capital of China’s autonomous Korean province (which I had no idea existed until we got to Vlad -- shows how much I know about anything!). One of the frustrating things about the travel we expected to try to do on our own here in the Far East is the fact that our Russian visas do not allow us to leave the country at exit points other than the airport, even though geographically we are tantalizingly close to the Chinese border. (Russians actually cross it all the time for cheap shopping in border towns -- think Tijuana or Nogales with less tequila and more egg rolls.) All of which means that this bus trip, taken under the protective arm of Russian officialdom itself, ironically appears to be one of the only ways for us to make that relatively short overland journey to China and rest assured we aren't violating our visa rules. Hey, we’ll look at it as a test-drive: if it’s fun and the munchkin cooperates, maybe we’ll fly to Shanghai or something for a little more tourism sometime soon!
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Holidays on Ice
Well, I sat at the window this morning and watched the cars tiptoe their way down the "Church Road" -- the sort of steep road, but not as steep as another more major road, that leads from our location up on the ridge down to the lower elevation where the Consulate and downtown Vlad are located, and which is visible directly out our front windows. I find it kind of fascinating to watch the activity on the road and judge from that what it's like outside. Today what it tells me, or really confirms for me is: the slipping and sliding that everyone predicted for the winter has begun.
We had our first major snowstorm on Saturday, which was kind of exciting. It basically snowed all day, with the temperatures hovering around zero, and then when the snowfall stopped (see the photo), the wind picked up and the temperature began to fall. From Sunday (which turned out to be a White Orthodox Christmas) onward, it has been colder again -- minus 5-10C -- and, due to the lack of any salt or sand distributed on the roads, pretty slick. Happy to say that the XTerra does great in the snow, especially in 4WD, it's the other guys that you kind of wonder about!
Until today, however, at least there weren't many other drivers on the roads, since it was "The Holidays." I don't know whether you have seen this article in the New York Times about the winter vacation here in Russia, but it is pretty interesting: http://tinyurl.com/yzpl2h. Basically the whole place shuts down for a couple of weeks surrounding New Year's and Eastern Christmas. In fact, I hadn't really realized that this was only made official by Prez Putin in 2005 -- I remember things shutting down, in I guess what must have been an unofficial capacity, during my other winter stays here, too. Unfortunately Dan was down with the flu, or recovering from it, for the better part of the week, which he too had off from work. But we did manage to take a couple of drives and relax a little bit during that time, photos of which are on Flickr.
Monday, December 18, 2006
Fat Cats, Fast Cars
Forgive the alliteration, but after a long day at work I will seize upon any available stylistic crutch on order to force myself to get words to screen.
First, the cats. We have two of them. We inherited them from a former consulate employee who had the misfortune of being posted to Bermuda – where, evidently, British Commonwealth regulations require that all incoming animals be quarantined for some length of time. Either he didn’t like the cats that much or he figured the quarantine would break their little kitty spirits, but either way he decided to pawn (paw?) them off on us.
The cats are great. Really the only problem with them was their names: originally, as I understand it, Lilo and Sinatra. Well, they are now Edgar and Sanchez. Edgar keeps himself relatively clean, but Sanchez can be a bit dirtier. When we first got the cats, we were told that Edgar (né Lilo – or was it Sinatra?) is affectionate and cuddly, whereas Sanchez (né Sinatra – or was it Lilo?) is rather more the scruffy cat-about-town. In fact, however, Sanchez appears to be the more house-bound. In fact, he’s turned into a bit of a nuisance. If Anya is not crying, then the sound we are hearing is Sanchez at the bottom of the stairs, mewling loudly to be allowed into our room. The really annoying thing is that our room door is generally open, and all Sanchez has to do is get his lazy cat ass up the stairs and through the door.
Once in the room, however (usually after a combination of coaxing and carrying, the latter often in guilty recompense for having angrily thrown a shoe at the whiny bastard), Sanchez likes to meow a “hello” then curl up in a corner of the bed and get his serious catnap on.
Edgar, on the other hand, has turned out to be downright aloof. A week after we got him, in fact, Lisa let him out, and he disappeared. And the cat did not come back the very next day. In fact, after five days without seeing him we were pretty sure that he had been eaten by one of the wolf-like dogs prowling unleashed along the goat path. Imagine my surprise, then, to look up from my reading a couple weeks ago and see Edgar padding across the floor of the living room. He must have slipped in when one of us wasn't looking.
On to the cars. Or, more specifically, ours. It's here. In fact, it's been here since November 20. But we can't drive it yet. Allow me to offer you a window into the bureaucracy.
The car was apparently offloaded in the Port of Vladivostok on the evening of November 20. We were told that it would take some time to clear customs – perhaps until Friday, November 24. Friday, of course, came and went, as did the following Monday. On Tuesday the 27th, we got the green light (I don't know who gives the green light, but we got it). Usually our GSO (General Services Office) guys go down to the port themselves and pick vehicles up, but I wanted to go with them, which they kindly allowed.
We arrived at the port at around 3:30pm and waited a bit in order to meet the relevant people (in particular the representative of the freight forwarder that handled the shipment). Once these people showed up, it looked like things were going to happen. But at 4pm, we were told that it was "tea time." I thought maybe this was a joke – even the Russian GSO staff thought maybe it was a joke – but, no, in fact the period from 4 to 5 is tea-time and no-one works during that time. This was a little frustrating because we could see the crane operator sitting in his seat, and with the push of a few levers he could grab our container and send us on our way. We started to wonder: Robert Shonov, second-in-command at the GSO, thought we might have to wait until 6pm, since “coffee break” might run from 5 to 6. But, I said, 6 to 7 must surely be vodka break. But our driver, Sergey, said that vodka break likely began at 8am, and had not yet stopped.
Long story, um, long, we got the car at 5pm. Very exciting to see as they opened up the container and there it was: our 2006 Nissan X-terra, in an entirely different part of the world from where we saw it last. A little heart flutter as it failed to start, but then we realized the battery was not connected. Success! We got our paperwork and drove out of the port.
Success, however, turned out to be a relative term. It would require a few days to register the car with the traffic cops and get plates for it. Fine. I figured we could go in the next day. But, as it turned out, they don’t do inspections on Wednesdays. So, Thursday, Sergey takes the car down to the traffic police. He returned later that day, however, saying that the traffic police could not find the “engine number” on the car. That is, we had the VIN, but they wanted the engine number before registering it. We looked ourselves, but could find nothing. The traffic cops told us to bring it by the next day, Friday, and they would have an “expert” in who could presumably find the number.
So Sergey brought the car in on Friday and, sure enough, the expert found the number. (It’s buried under the exhaust manifold on the left side of the car, by the way, almost at the bottom of the engine.) Success! I again (foolishly) thought. But no. Now that we had found the correct engine number, it had to be entered onto our customs form (on which an incorrect number had earlier been written). And this was not simply a matter of us running by the customs agency. No, we had to contact our freight forwarders, who would themselves handle the paperwork. They had of course closed by this time.
On Monday, we did finally get the form – someone had simply crossed out the incorrect number and scrawled in the correct one, slapping it with a fat stamp making it all official. Off to get the plates! I thought. Of course not: I should have remembered that they are closed on Monday.
So Tuesday, we set out. I have the feeling that I will be driving the car home. This time Sergey is not available, so Robert and I drive the car up ourselves to meet with Sergey’s traffic cop contact. First, the car is briefly inspected, during which we spend a considerable amount of time showing the traffic cops where the engine number is. (Time goes a little slower as well for us because what must be the first X-terra in Vlad is attracting a little attention – which is in and of itself somewhat surprising, because the X-terra’s more pimped-out, gas-guzzling cousin, the Armada, is in plentiful supply here.)
Inspection successful. Success! Of course not. Now we must bring the forms to the traffic police office where they will be officially received. It is there that the news is broken to me that the license plates are in another location altogether, and I won’t be getting those today. In fact, there appears to be some question about whether the plates are even available – since we need special red diplomatic plates ordered from Moscow. If we are out of them, we are doomed, because it will surely take months to get them.
Update: the plates came! We are now free to roam the madcap streets of Vladivostok. We’ll talk about driving in a subsequent post...
First, the cats. We have two of them. We inherited them from a former consulate employee who had the misfortune of being posted to Bermuda – where, evidently, British Commonwealth regulations require that all incoming animals be quarantined for some length of time. Either he didn’t like the cats that much or he figured the quarantine would break their little kitty spirits, but either way he decided to pawn (paw?) them off on us.
The cats are great. Really the only problem with them was their names: originally, as I understand it, Lilo and Sinatra. Well, they are now Edgar and Sanchez. Edgar keeps himself relatively clean, but Sanchez can be a bit dirtier. When we first got the cats, we were told that Edgar (né Lilo – or was it Sinatra?) is affectionate and cuddly, whereas Sanchez (né Sinatra – or was it Lilo?) is rather more the scruffy cat-about-town. In fact, however, Sanchez appears to be the more house-bound. In fact, he’s turned into a bit of a nuisance. If Anya is not crying, then the sound we are hearing is Sanchez at the bottom of the stairs, mewling loudly to be allowed into our room. The really annoying thing is that our room door is generally open, and all Sanchez has to do is get his lazy cat ass up the stairs and through the door.Once in the room, however (usually after a combination of coaxing and carrying, the latter often in guilty recompense for having angrily thrown a shoe at the whiny bastard), Sanchez likes to meow a “hello” then curl up in a corner of the bed and get his serious catnap on.
Edgar, on the other hand, has turned out to be downright aloof. A week after we got him, in fact, Lisa let him out, and he disappeared. And the cat did not come back the very next day. In fact, after five days without seeing him we were pretty sure that he had been eaten by one of the wolf-like dogs prowling unleashed along the goat path. Imagine my surprise, then, to look up from my reading a couple weeks ago and see Edgar padding across the floor of the living room. He must have slipped in when one of us wasn't looking.
On to the cars. Or, more specifically, ours. It's here. In fact, it's been here since November 20. But we can't drive it yet. Allow me to offer you a window into the bureaucracy.
The car was apparently offloaded in the Port of Vladivostok on the evening of November 20. We were told that it would take some time to clear customs – perhaps until Friday, November 24. Friday, of course, came and went, as did the following Monday. On Tuesday the 27th, we got the green light (I don't know who gives the green light, but we got it). Usually our GSO (General Services Office) guys go down to the port themselves and pick vehicles up, but I wanted to go with them, which they kindly allowed.
We arrived at the port at around 3:30pm and waited a bit in order to meet the relevant people (in particular the representative of the freight forwarder that handled the shipment). Once these people showed up, it looked like things were going to happen. But at 4pm, we were told that it was "tea time." I thought maybe this was a joke – even the Russian GSO staff thought maybe it was a joke – but, no, in fact the period from 4 to 5 is tea-time and no-one works during that time. This was a little frustrating because we could see the crane operator sitting in his seat, and with the push of a few levers he could grab our container and send us on our way. We started to wonder: Robert Shonov, second-in-command at the GSO, thought we might have to wait until 6pm, since “coffee break” might run from 5 to 6. But, I said, 6 to 7 must surely be vodka break. But our driver, Sergey, said that vodka break likely began at 8am, and had not yet stopped.
Long story, um, long, we got the car at 5pm. Very exciting to see as they opened up the container and there it was: our 2006 Nissan X-terra, in an entirely different part of the world from where we saw it last. A little heart flutter as it failed to start, but then we realized the battery was not connected. Success! We got our paperwork and drove out of the port.
Success, however, turned out to be a relative term. It would require a few days to register the car with the traffic cops and get plates for it. Fine. I figured we could go in the next day. But, as it turned out, they don’t do inspections on Wednesdays. So, Thursday, Sergey takes the car down to the traffic police. He returned later that day, however, saying that the traffic police could not find the “engine number” on the car. That is, we had the VIN, but they wanted the engine number before registering it. We looked ourselves, but could find nothing. The traffic cops told us to bring it by the next day, Friday, and they would have an “expert” in who could presumably find the number.
So Sergey brought the car in on Friday and, sure enough, the expert found the number. (It’s buried under the exhaust manifold on the left side of the car, by the way, almost at the bottom of the engine.) Success! I again (foolishly) thought. But no. Now that we had found the correct engine number, it had to be entered onto our customs form (on which an incorrect number had earlier been written). And this was not simply a matter of us running by the customs agency. No, we had to contact our freight forwarders, who would themselves handle the paperwork. They had of course closed by this time.
On Monday, we did finally get the form – someone had simply crossed out the incorrect number and scrawled in the correct one, slapping it with a fat stamp making it all official. Off to get the plates! I thought. Of course not: I should have remembered that they are closed on Monday.
So Tuesday, we set out. I have the feeling that I will be driving the car home. This time Sergey is not available, so Robert and I drive the car up ourselves to meet with Sergey’s traffic cop contact. First, the car is briefly inspected, during which we spend a considerable amount of time showing the traffic cops where the engine number is. (Time goes a little slower as well for us because what must be the first X-terra in Vlad is attracting a little attention – which is in and of itself somewhat surprising, because the X-terra’s more pimped-out, gas-guzzling cousin, the Armada, is in plentiful supply here.)
Inspection successful. Success! Of course not. Now we must bring the forms to the traffic police office where they will be officially received. It is there that the news is broken to me that the license plates are in another location altogether, and I won’t be getting those today. In fact, there appears to be some question about whether the plates are even available – since we need special red diplomatic plates ordered from Moscow. If we are out of them, we are doomed, because it will surely take months to get them.
Update: the plates came! We are now free to roam the madcap streets of Vladivostok. We’ll talk about driving in a subsequent post...
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