Some Impressions From a Move In Process

They came and took our air baggage on Monday morning. Of course, since that is the little bit of stuff that is supposed to get to Dushanbe more quickly than the rest of our household effects (and since we now know that all our other "HHE" will go via slow boat first to a US government site in Belgium and then on some unknown route to Dushanbe, perhaps taking many months), we felt some pressure to choose wisely on what went into our air freight.

We hadn't really done the forethought to realize, for instance, that we'd want our desktop computer (and would therefore need to back up the hard drive and all) to go by air, so that was stressing us out on Sunday, once we'd realized. And of course there is always more sorting and organizing than you realize. But now we've had a little breathing room with the first packout day out of the way, and we are gearing up for the remaining packout to be done on this coming Monday and Tuesday.

At least next time, when they come for everything else, all we need to do is separate out what we'll take on the plane with us, and all the rest just needs to get packed and shipped -- not as many choices to be made.

Although, it's true that this packout is the one where you need to make sure whatever you don't want packed up is either nailed down, sealed in a secure and properly marked location, or forced outside where it can't hide and die in the shipment (that last again referring primarily to the risks involved with cats, but of course if a stray diaper were left in a diaper pail for the several months the shipment were travelling, that too would very quickly smell like something had died). This is the packout where your nightmare is that your passport gets packed up into one of the boxes -- then what will you do? (They even have a public service announcement about that on Armed Forces Network TV -- it's one of my favorites, right after the toddler choking hazard warning, "shady character from the nuthouse," spot.)

Of course, as we are preparing to leave I'm having little exchanges of both the positive and the negative kind, and they impress me differently than if I knew we were staying. The main negative one: the single, solitary response I have gotten to my public, online advertisements trying to find new homes for our cats was an accusatory message about "how dare we not try to take our pets with us," how "we humans are responsible for the animals we take into our homes" -- which made me furious and unable to shake my anger for several hours. (It subsequently has come to light that the sender was dumped with her parents Angora cat when they moved, but, hey, why take out your bitterness on me, lady? Take a moment to think before you press "send"!)

But I've also had some good interactions lately that make me feel good about the life we've had here in Vlad and in Russia, and not so much sorry to go, but I guess confident in some way that I'll be able to find similarly comfortable modes of being in Dushanbe.

I took in a bunch of old, too-small baby clothes the other day to donate to a local church, something I'd been meaning to do for a while. Of course, you can imagine that that wouldn't be a terrible experience, but in Russia you never know what can go wrong or turn out to be unpleasant. But, sure enough, I went into the lobby of the church out on the peninsula leading out to the lighthouse on the edge of town, and the lady manning the religious items and books kiosk that seems to always precede the actual sacred space in Russian Orthodox churches was all aflutter and happy to show me where to leave my boxes, and assured me that even little baby clothes would come in handy for the kids the church supports. It made me feel good to finally check something off of my list and of course -- an easy one -- to know I was doing something small that might benefit the local community.

Yesterday I took in a CD of photos to get them printed (I'm making a surprise gift for Marina of a little photo book with pictures of Anya all throughout our stay), and the guy in the photo shop was really nice, wanted to speak English with me in a friendly way, and in general the transaction went very well and the printed pictures were good quality and very cheap. (It even made me realize I should go back and print up another set to make a little photo book for Anya, as a keepsake of her first two years, spent in Vladivostok. What a concept -- digital photos on paper! It's been so long since I've developed photos...)

And then Anya and I went to the open market for some veggies and fruit, which has become my habit, finally, after many months (and on earlier visits to Russia, the equivalent of years, I suppose) of anxiety that made it difficult for me to tackle the market on a regular basis. But now I feel confident enough of myself and my Russian that I won't get ripped off (I can even demand unbruised pieces and can bargain a cup of berries down from exorbitantly expensive, if need be!). Now I enjoy going to the little market down the hill from us to get my fresh produce and dried fruit and nuts. This time the lady behind the counter where we bought our grapes was helpful when I had my arms full with kid and produce, and when Anya remarked "you hungry!" as the little bag of fruit appeared, the seller asked with a chuckle, "Does she know Russian too?"

I realized that I feel a confidence just being out and about a lot of the time here in Vlad that is a nice counterweight to some of the doubt I feel about how I've pursued my professional work here. For the most part I'm happy with the research I've done, and I know I've gathered a hell of a lot of material that will make a good history. But I guess I have learned something about myself in the past few years, and that is that I will always have trouble contacting live people who might be good to talk to for my work, and that has been true here for sure. Books and archival documents are just so much easier, there's so much less risk of a bad relationship! Anyway, I've been feeling bad that I am somehow unable to contact and speak a bit more to one of the virologists in town who studies tick-borne encephalitis today, feeling that I'm no good for having that trouble and, when all is said and done, for most likely never calling or meeting with her again. But then when I go around town running my errands or whatever, I realize how much has gone well in life here, how much I've been able to accomplish (and have needed to accomplish: the bottom line is we've been in a new, foreign place, not at home!) in other, more mundane, but no less important realms: knowing my city and driving around with confidence (I guess for the past year I've actually been the only spouse** here in our American group to drive at all!); shopping and getting what I need and what pleases me either food-wise or things-wise; having a few friends and balancing that with my work, and having success at gathering data and working with inanimate legible sources, if not with the animate kind; and taking good care of and having fun with Anya, whether at home or at Montessori or on the playground. I guess that is a pretty good set of things to have achieved, and I'm not unhappy with that.
[** Ha! I realized only belatedly that this idea really shows how much I've swallowed the reigning sexism of the Foreign Service: I'm of course the only female spouse (weaker sex, anyone?) here who has driven among all who've lived here this past year, but the one male trailing spouse, well, of course, he'd probably never dream of not driving -- not to mention his apparent views on not working...]

All of that is positive, but I have to at least note -- it is such a terrible set of events that I still don't know how to understand, so I can't write much more -- that we've also been following with trepidation as Russia and Georgia came to armed conflict in the past week. We've been thinking of our friends in Tbilisi, have been shocked at how quickly it all came to pass, and depressed about what it means for the people on the ground and for what it demonstrates about the political and foreign relations realities.

What we are saying:
all kinds of colors: yeyo, bwu, red, white, oinge, bwak (and a similar range in Russian)
comparisons: big, "hmah" (and sometimes even "small" -- we're getting better at s + consonant pronunciation)
(And, interestingly, Anya has made a very strong connection between big and heavy: to the point of even thinking and saying that if a butterfly is big, it's also heavy, or a hug that is big is also heavy.)
A series of numbers that demonstrates at least the start of an understanding of the concept of counting. Whenever there are more than one of an object, you're likely to hear "wann-too-fee-fawf," which is Anya's version of 1-2-3-4-5, with 4 and 5 sort of smushed together into one word. (Hey, those are big numbers, once you get up into the stratosphere, what's the difference?)
Many requests, and many of them accompanied by "please." Here is a typical exchange these days in our kitchen:
"More milk!"
"What do you say?"
"More milk, pweeeez..."
"Very nice, here you go."
Also: "kiss it!" and "hug!"
Also some past tenses: "kisst it!"
And some rocky starts to the use of pronouns, as in: "you hungry!" "you tired!" "you finished!" and "you scared!" when really what is meant is "I'm ....," or "carry you!" and "help you!" in place of " ... me!" I guess when your main mode of learning is repeating, of course you're going to get those things wrong when the perspective changes and you're saying it yourself instead of mom or dad asking whether you feel or did something.
Also a pretty good memory: especially getting reinforced when we turn down the leafy street that leads to the Vlad Motor Inn, and Anya remarks correctly that both sausage and slides/playground will soon be enjoyed.

What we used to say (for the record, an attempt at compiling past idiosynchratic words, with an asterisk denoting those that are not yet obsolete):
appi
bop
happa
bik
manna
wawa*
yaindann*
sseepie
uppadeez
noi
pafo*
hmoon
fumm
fingam
ayah
tikka*
payday
Tay-tay
Agga
tututu
bayo*
pato*
psai-psai
bayefai
aissee
tahs
tah-fee
pishi
yeg*
yabb-i*
yek*
Nimma
H'mp'hah
paya
fawf
oyay
e'feh*
gaggy
kroya
akkapiya*
pla-puh*
gai-yay
yips*
(Translations available on request.)

A Polar Bear Explores the World

Closeup On the Bear
Originally uploaded by lkwalker71.

I guess the most recent photos I uploaded to Flickr probably deserve at least a little explanation, since everyone who has commented on them to me has said "it looks so cold!" (You can see these photos as a group if you look here. And if you want to see where this afternoon walk took place, click on "map.")

So, for orientation's sake: if you have looked at any general map of Vladivostok with much detail, you will have noticed not only that the city is situated at the southwest tip of the Murav'ev-Amurskii Peninsula, but that it also has a tantalizing finger of land dangling from its own southwest edge, which in effect sort of shelters the mouth of the Golden Horn Bay from the open water of the Amur Bay. That finger of land is "Scott Peninsula" in geographical terms (poluostrov Shkota); as a neighborhood of Vladivostok, its administrative name is “Egershel’d.” And that peninsula in turn has an even tinier spit of land (or probably just a spit made up of beach glass and other random detritus), a thin curving sliver extending off of its end, much like an accumulation of, well, spittle that might dangle from a five-and-a-half-month-old's lip. (Here are a couple of other good ways to view all of this geography, and the little spit of land in particular, whose name is actually Cape Tokarevskii: a picture of it in what appears to be summer is here; and "Wikimapia" has pretty good detail on that particular part of Vlad, too.)

I have to confess that these places really didn't hold as much fascination for me personally as it apparently did for Dan when we first got here, and especially when we first received our car. But his interest can be surmised from the fact that the finger, and the sliver, were our very first destinations after we had our wheels. And that fascination can be even better understood (I think) if you realize that that first trip was taken at about 7:30 in the evening, in the dark. He really wanted to see that spit of land -- even if, in going there, he couldn't even see it!

Since then, it actually has become kind of fascinating to me. We've gone a couple of different times (all in the light, I am glad to say). And I find it a really interesting end-of-the-earth kind of place, yet an easy drive for us from our house. There is a lighthouse there: always makes a place slightly more picturesque. And the light out there at the end of the day, especially with all of the ice and snow right now, is really beautiful.

The pictures I posted do look cold, but in fact the reason we went out to Egersheld last Sunday was that it was a beautiful, sunny day and relatively warm. Everything just seemed like it was melting -- in fact, it is kind of gross here when it gets as warm as it has been this past week, with temperatures as high as 3 or 4C, with all the ice and snow on the streets and sidewalks melting and spattering the car, and puddles of mud and goo everywhere. Last Sunday out on Egersheld, Dan and I were wearing our fall jackets, and the sun really did warm everything up considerably.

But I guess the interesting thing about Egersheld is that it still looks pristine and white even in that weather, and the ice is only partially melted in the water out in the direction of the Amur Bay. There were several other people who had also decided to drive out there and take a walk around the lighthouse and enjoy the nice weather. We suited up the munchkin in the car when we got there, in her little polar bear-like snowsuit, and she didn’t seem to mind much at all. I think she got hungry at the end, when she started to fuss a little bit, so we wrapped it up and headed for a nearby café where we had a late afternoon snack and some coffee.

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NB! We are taking our big trip to the US over the next two and a half weeks, so don't think that I have abandoned the blog if I am not able to add any tidbits until we are back, basically at the end of February.