Meredith Clason’s Blog NOTE: To make Meredith’s interesting observations more readily available—and easier to follow—we’ve put her entries in chronological order, added photos, and converted it all to a PDF file. For Meredith’s more or less “formal” evaluation of the 2008 Fulbright program, see the American home newsletter No. 14: www.serendipity-russia.com/alumninews.htm The Long Road to Vladimir Arrival in Russia, June 22, 2008 After months of planning, days of orientation, and hours on shuttles, airplanes, and buses, our Fulbright group is finally here in Vladmir, Russia. The direct, non-stop flight from Chicago to Moscow was LONG, but uneventful. Ok, I guess there was one special event, namely the barf-bag puppet theatre created by our own Scott Read to entertain the masses - inspired by sleep deprivation and adrenaline. So, we've identified our comic relief in case anyone needs a laugh in the next month.

Just arrived—Domodedovo airport, Moscow

Immediately upon walking through the green corridor through Customs, I noticed a radical difference from my airport experiences in 1992 and 1994. About 70 per cent of the automobiles are European or American, as opposed to the glut of Ladas from the 90s. The bus followed a highway that went around the southern part of Moscow - our first glimpses of Russia included a mosaic of old and new: thick stands of gorgeous white birch trees along the highway, peppered with dachas (and some of the dachas were bigger and fancier than any home I've ever lived in!); gas stations; car dealerships (Volvo, Ford, Audi, Renault); garden and home centers; lumber/building material yards; a tree farm (to replenish the garden centers, no doubt); and shopping centers, including an enormous IKEA. We stopped for lunch at a restaurant just inside the Vladimir region, "Skazka". It was like a diorama of the best of Russian fairy tales. The wood carvings of fairy tale characters were amazingly intricate and impressive. If I was more familiar with Russian fairy tales I could name the characters whose

wooden likenesses graced the building and grounds, but in my state of exhaustion, it seemed like a magical land. Lunch was amazing and enormous (round one of the continuing saga of "death by food," which one experiences thanks to gracious, hospitable Russians).

“Skazka” restaurant—half way between Moscow and Vladimir

Bread & salt welcome Our host families were waiting for us at the American Home in Vladimir and they quickly took us "home". After more food and a multi-cultural game of 20 questions, I finally rolled into bed to rest up for more adventures Day 1 June 23

After breakfast, Andrei - my host "Dad" - drove me to the American Home for Day 1 of stuffing our brains with valuable information about Russia, past and present. The American Home, conceived and built in 1992 by our Co-Director Ron Pope (ISU) - with help from some other designers and contractors, of course - is like many of the cookie cutter houses that grace the suburbs of America, but it is truly a novelty in Russia. It's really wonderful to have a home base that FEELS like a home away from home. I should take a minute to mention the central figures in the implementation of the in-country seminar. None of this would be possible without Ron and his right and left hands - Alexei Altonen and his wife, Galya - they are the forces behind the in-country itinerary and they are truly amazing. I know, from my experience at my previous job and here at U of C, how much work goes into shepherding 15 people around for even a couple of days, much less the four weeks of the Fulbright program. There are not enough kudos in the world to thank them for their attention to detail, their efforts to create a diverse, educational program, and their warmth and kindness.

Alexei Altonen Galya Altonen One thing that we will all need to get used to is the media attention that our group has inspired. A young reporter interviewed me for his (hopefully radio, not television) show on why this Fulbright program is important and necessary. At least these are questions that I can answer... After lunch, we had a walking tour of Bol'shaya Moskovskaya Street - the main drag in Vladimir - with a guided tour of the history museum and Golden Gates. I will post a picture of the Golden Gates, considered the symbol of Vladimir, when I can get the pictures downloaded (uploaded?) from my camera. The museums were quite amazing. The history museum had archaeological artifacts (I'd never seen a real mammoth tusk or tooth before) and exhibits through to present Vladimir. The Golden Gates contains a stunning diorama of the city in 1258, when the Mongols were attacking (and subsequently burning) the entire city. It was like being in the movie "Night at the Museum." The rest of the exhibits were devoted to the military history of the region - an entire corridor of portraits of war heroes and odes to technological and scientific achievements. After the "official" day concluded, Ira and Lena - my host "Mom" and her best friend - took me to see "Sex and the City" at a beautiful, new movie theatre in town. It was a great movie to see for a couple of reasons. (1) I could handle most of the dialogue even with my pathetic Russian skills (and there were visual aids to intuit the plot when I couldn't understand a few words); and (2) it was worth it even if I couldn't have understood a thing to hear the voice-overs. Most of the voices were COMPLETELY wrong for the characters and it had me

laughing for the entire 2 hours. (I'm sure the beer Ira bought me at the concession stand and the jet lag helped). But, it was a very enjoyable day.

Day 2 – June 24 In the battle between Jet Lag and the Blog, Jet lag wins….

Girls’ Night Out

June 25 Day 3 There will be no time for homesickness here. It is simply impossible (OK, not impossible, but we certainly don't have time to pine for our loved ones as we're frantically scribbling notes during lectures and panel discussions). Information is coming at us fast and furious and we are all wearing our catchers' mitts. This is a wonderful program, but VERY intense - kind of like a downpour when you really need a gentle rain. This morning we went to the Vladimir Museum Complex and toured the Children's Museum. It was not as much an interactive "play" museum like in Pittsburgh or Chicago, but rather a brilliantly devised museum devoted to the history of the region, presented in a way that will lure children into wanting to know more. My favorite thing was the wall painting in the prehistoric room, textured with some sort of furry material, with a real mammoth tusk incorporated into it. Quite amazing and very creative. We heard lectures on Russian names and greetings and on the process of adopting Russian children (strategically placed the day before our visit to a Russian orphanage) and visited the Palace for Children's Creative Learning, which does indeed resemble a huge concrete castle. It's essentially the central operations for every type of extra-curricular activity that kids in Vladimir can participate in: sports (including a rock-climbing wall built with the help of the American Home); fine arts; crafts; music; they even have an enormous indoor winter garden. The garden was particularly fun - like a miniature version of the Garfield Park Conservatory - and there were several birds in residence, including a large, green parrot. Apparently, one of the students received the parrot as a Christmas gift and found out she was allergic to him, so he now lives in the Palace garden and she can visit him regularly. He didn't react to any of our group when we said hello with our highly accented Russian greetings, but Olga Piekarski - one of the few in our group who is fluent in Russian - held a veritable conversation with him! Some of the kids performed for us - the Director of Music is very successful in training the students of voice. There was a version of Ave Maria - a choir with a young female soloist - which gave me goose bumps and had me quickly pulling out my Kleenex. Not only did the kids sing like angels, but they were very confident and poised (Stephen Dunn's choice of words, which captured the essence perfectly). After the performance, we had tea with the kids. It was very fun, but made me very homesick. Any of you that know my children know that Sophia has the voice of an angel. Emma still needs a small bucket in which to carry her tune, but I do miss her belting out "Yellow Submarine" on the 171 bus... The evening was a real treat. Once a month, Ira and three of her friends from school have a girls' night out dinner at one of their houses. This one was at Lena's. Lena's family had recently vacationed in Crete, so the theme was Greek cuisine. It was delicious, washed down with red wine and grapefruit infused vodka. But the best part was listening to the ladies sing. After dinner, they head into the living room, light candles on the piano and sing Russian folk songs and ballads until the tea pot lures them back into the kitchen. They have a set

repertoire of tunes they've perfected with intimate harmonies - it's wonderful. Lena even did a solo arrangement of "Yesterday" for my benefit. I am extremely grateful to have been invited and propose a toast to friendship... Cheers!

Young Children

June 26 Day 4 Today we talked about food (before and after eating way too much, as usual) and then hopped on a bus to visit a Detskii Sad. The word is often translated as "kindergarten," but it's really a pre-school for kids from 2-7. It's comprehensive care that extends way beyond daycare and education - the kids eat 4 times a day and even get immunizations at the Detskii Sad. As is traditional, some of the younger kids performed a few songs for us. We reciprocated with "The Itsy, Bitsy Spider.”

Then onto an orphanage. It was both very good to see the conditions in the orphanage and extremely difficult to experience this. The children performed for us and our group did an encore of "The Itsy, Bitsy Spider" and followed it up with "Where is Thumbkin?" All was well until we got to the "Where is Tall Man?" verse and realized that we were giving the finger (on both hands!) to a bunch of parentless Russian children and their teachers. And I'm sure we have it on tape. Sigh.

Donated “Play Clay” The kids loved it; and so did the staff. It doesn’t stick or stain.

The children are very well cared for at this particular orphanage and seem happy and well-adjusted. It was a shock to learn that only one of the 23 kids was truly an orphan. Most of the kids have at least one parent who is unable to take care of them: they are alcoholics, or don't have enough money, or are in prison, or have given the child up because of health reasons (either the parent or the child might be sick), etc. We were touched to learn that the kids call each of the teachers/caretakers "Mama". The teachers - as is the case everywhere we've visited - are attentive and wonderful with the children. You can tell that they really care about the children and love their jobs in spite of the abysmally low salaries. We brought lots of things for the kids, a few that we distributed right away - bags with juice boxes and apples, as well as the matchbox cars I brought. One of the little boys glommed onto a few of us and it was a real treat for us to have a tour of the facility given by our knowledgeable guide Sashenka. He showed us the big room with rows of little beds; the wardrobes filled with clothes of various sizes (shared by the kids); the playroom that also serves as a dining room. It was so hard to leave - I cried and cried, but it has burned a lasting impression in my mind. Poka, Sashenka - vsego khoroshego

Law Enforcement

June 27 Today we visited the Juridical Institute, which is like a Police Academy and Law School combined. The cadets come from all over Russia and gave presentations on the various regions of Russia. This was really important for us to hear, as most Americans don't realize how BIG Russia is and how many languages, ethnicities, and cultures are represented in the Russian Federation. After the presentations, we had a brief discussion. There were many questions directed at the Cadets from Chechnya and Dagestan about the political situation in the Caucasus and ethnic/religious tensions throughout Russia. It was apparent that the cadets had more they WANTED to say, but did not dare. Answers were carefully constructed, but telling nonetheless. Still, it was good for our teachers to hear about the diversity of Russian peoples - excellent food for thought and a revelation for many of us. The Institute is right next door to the historic (i.e., prerevolutionary) “Vladimir Central,” a high security prison and there were many questions about how the prisoners live, what they eat, etc. Interesting. We had a guided tour of the St. Dimitrius Assumption Cathedrals. St. Dimitrius Cathedral is made of white stone, with gorgeous, intricate carvings on the outside walls. It was a wonderful, slightly ironic mix of mythological creatures and saints and simply a visual feast for the eyes. Assumption Cathedral is from the 12th-century. It is graced with frescoes by Andrei Rublov. His scene of the Last Judgment is stunning - it is obvious that Rublov was a gentle spirit himself, who did not believe in an angry or vengeful God. His depiction shows none of the fear, fire or brimstone of other such scenes, rather it is peaceful and serene. There is one angel that is so beautiful as to bring tears to your eyes. We also had a panel discussion which hit on a few practical problems in education. The guests of honor were three recent graduates (as in they graduated YESTERDAY) of the Pedagogical Institute, all students of English. The most interesting part of the discussion was on cheating - strategies and methods described by the young ladies and countered by the experiences of our American teachers. Finally, we had a pot-luck dinner at the American Home. Good food, a vodka tasting, and many toasts to our new families and to budding international friendships. Scott and Bruce did some special toast with arms linked and now they're special drinking brothers, so you can see that we are becoming a real family! Seriously, though, I feel very honored to be with this group of teachers. We are an excellent mix of youthful enthusiasm and years of experience. These teachers are smart, savvy, and really dedicated to learning as this is the path toward better teaching. Kudos to these bright men and women from the University of Chicago interloper.

Suzdal' and Bogolyubovo

June 28

I finally had a full 8 hours of sleep and the elves washed a few of the cobwebs out of my brain... After some rousing renditions of three Russian folk songs (not bad for 9:00 on a Saturday morning), we boarded a bus to Suzdal' with Natalia, our trusty guide for all historical museum adventures. Our first stop was a monastery that is now a living museum. The gardens are GORGEOUS - beds for flowers, medicinal herbs, and likely vegetables somewhere not along the walking paths. We heard a bell concerto when the clock stuck 11:00 a.m. I don't know how the one man played 11 bells - must have looked like a marionette with strings tied to every limb and digit - but it was terrific. A male a capella quartet sang in one of the small cathedrals. I'm rapidly running out of Kleenex - the tenor's voice was pure and clean and goosebumps and tears

were rampant. The beautiful voices and acoustics made for a sound that was reverent, palpable, and ethereal. The we went to the town's Kremlin (most of you likely know that the word 'kremlin' means fortress), where we saw another old limestone church with beautiful blue cupolas. The clock was interesting - it had letters instead of numerals. I didn't know that if you put two dots over a letter, it signifies that it represents a number.

There was an accordion player on the path to the Kremlin and he burst out in a rendition of "Milenkii ty moi" as we passed. I wonder if it was a coincidence or if Andrei had a hand in it, as this was a song that we had learned earlier in he day. Andrei has a very good voice and sang along with the musician, passing his hat for the effort.

Suzdal’s outdoor Museum of Wooden Architecture—and a hot air balloon

Bogolyubovo had a convent, where we saw some very old artifacts, including a piece of sidewalk preserved from the 12th century. The real treat was walking to an old limestone church, which stands in the middle of a humeadow. It reminded me of the fen near Elgin, IL with its narrow paths and explosion of wildflowers. Apparently, this church is a popular place to pray on the big holidays, but is not heavily populated - except for tourism - the rest of the year.

ge

After the "work day" had concluded, Ira, Andrei and I went to an Armenian cafe - Shesh Besh - for dinner. Our shashlik was peppered with some pretty serious conversations about buying houses and cars in our respective countries, horoscopes, and how we met our spouses. My Russian must be getting better as I can now converse with Ksenia without much facilitation from Ira. It's easy to understand the adults if they speak slowly and enunciate, but the speech patterns of 7 year old girls is both rapid fire and skips from one topic to another, leaving me in the dust. Still, the sweet girl tries to talk to me and holds my hand when we're crossing the street, so all is right in the world.

Lunch on a Farm June 28—Part 2

Lunch on a farm just outside Suzdal' was so phenomenal it deserves its own entry. The family lives on what appears to be a more or less self-sustaining farm with fields of potatoes, tomatoes, carrots, cucumbers (which Suzdal' is famous for), herbs, beets, onions and a few animals: pigs, cows, chickens, turkeys, and a pen with about 20 of the cutest ducklings in Russia. The family had set up a long table in the yard and everything they gave us (with the exception of some of the beverages) was homemade, with many of the ingredients coming from their own gardens. We feasted on tomatoes, radishes, cukes, pickles; homemade cheese - it was DELICIOUS; all sorts of buns stuffed with different fillings; little quiches that had Russian cottage cheese (more like our cream cheese); tiny boiled new potatoes with dill; blini with homemade sour cream; carrot and cabbage slaw; and free-flowing beverages, including homemade honey moonshine, factory-produced mead, whisky, some sort of special baked milk that I was scared to try, and tea. Everything was scrumptious.

We made up a new song as we boarded the bus to the tune of "The Wheels on the Bus" - the people on the bus go EAT and DRINK... Eat, eat, eat definitely seems to be our motto! Still, we survived walking around an open air museum with some stunning traditional wooden architecture. Did you know that aspen wood, as it ages, resembles silver? This is why so many Russian structures - the "gingerbread" trim on houses, windows, and even churches is made from aspen wood. Visitors who wonder where Russians found so much silver need only look to the aspen stands in the forests. The staff were all in traditional dress and it was much like the village at Old Salem in North Carolina or New Salem near Springfield, IL. One funny tidbit for my girls: there was a big yellow balloon/blimp floating around that looked like the Beatles Yellow Submarine! I tried to get a picture and we all sang "Yellow Submarine" in honor of Emma...

A Day of Rest

June 29 Our first free day is upon us.

The morning started with a culinary treat - blinchiki (little crepes/thin pancakes) topped with sweetened condensed milk. There's actually a special flour you can buy and mix with milk and voila (for the non-spatula-challenged), blinchiki! We visited a park behind the American Home where schoolchildren regularly work - it's truly a majestic sight. Vladimir is built on rolling hills, so the gardens are terraced. There were apple and cherry trees, all sorts of berry bushes, a huge vegetable and herb garden, and flowers galore: irises, roses, fragrant jasmine, begonias, pansies, petunias, cactus, and a pervasive groundcover of pink-tinged sedum with tiny white flowers (and many others that I can't name or can't remember). Ira and I visited the Old Vladimir Museum in what used to be a water tower behind the American Home. There were a great many compact exhibits devoted to life in Vladimir before the Revolution in 1917, but the real miracle of this museum was the view from the observation deck on the top floor. Beautiful, even with a fair amount of fog. We ate at a cafe for lunch which specializes in traditional Russian fare, where I was stuffed like the proverbial American Thanksgiving turkey. In the afternoon, Andrei and I took Ksenia to a kiddie park with carnival games, rides - bumper cars, motorized boats, carousel, inflatable slides/bouncy rooms, and trampolines with harnesses so that no one falls off. The safety feature was slightly marred by the fact that the bungee cord system was pretty frayed. But, it was fun and the nightcap was a look through every photo album in the house. Not a bad way to spend a lazy, hazy Sunday...

The Voice of History

June 30 Monday A number of our group are under the weather with digestive difficulties. It would be hard to identify one culprit that may not have agreed with people since we continue to eat our body weights in food each day!

The highlight of today was the lecture on Russian history and politics by a gentleman named Percy Gurvitch. He is Vladimir's version of The University of Chicago's Eric Hamp (whom I respect immensely and adore as a person as well). Professor Gurvitch is almost 90 years old - born in 1919 - and has lived through eleven governments. Coming from a long line of Social Democrats, he has weathered various administrations with many personal stories of how people really lived and spilled the beans on a lot of "secrets of the rich and famous", as it were. Today he covered the period from the Revolution of 1917 to Kruschev. We'll be graced with his presence twice more before we leave Vladimir. I want to note that Gurvitch is a polyglot, but he speaks English only once a year, and his command of English is superb. I'm serious - he dusts off his English specifically to address the Fulbright groups at the American Home. It was truly amazing.

Currently, Percy Gurvitch is still running one of the departments at Vladimir's Pedagogical Institute and is clearly revered among the faculty and students, both for his intellect and his integrity as a leader. We are scheming to do an oral history project that involves videotaping Professor Gurvitch and posting the lectures to our own University website, CHIASMOS. Details to come at a later date...

Chocolate, Cows, and Ode to Blini

July 1

As we walked into the Kraft factory in Kirzhach, Jeff Schagrin started singing "I've got a golden ticket" a la Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. It was definitely like a visit to Willy Wonka's factory without the benefit of Oompa Loompas. The Kraft factory produces lots of products, but a majority of them involve CHOCOLATE! The guards took our passports at the door, but we hardly cared if they ever gave them back after they led us into a small room with a table heaped with candy bars, all produced right there in the factory. Fifteen minutes later, with sugar highs and endorphins enveloping us, we consented to leave nirvana for a tour of the plant. We all had to wear shower-type caps, plastic covers on our shoes, and surgical-type gowns. We must have looked like something out of a Monty Python movie (or Oompa Loompa wannabes). It was hilarious. We were literally shown the entire process of making candy bars and fancy filled candies (which Russians call 'pralines') starting from the warehouse which stores the basic ingredients (sugar, powdered milk, cocoa powder, etc.). Next we saw the tanks where these ingredients are dumped and mixed and then the room where they melt the cocoa butter and distill the chocolate liquor (RULE #1: DON'T EVER BOIL CHOCOLATE). The melting zones are called the Africa zones because they are the hottest rooms in the plant. We saw enormous vats of fillings for candy bars and pralines (amaretto, strawberry, cognac, Irish Cream, fruits and nuts - YUM!). There are special machines to mix chocolate with fruits and nuts or to incorporate extra air into the chocolate for a special "whipped" chocolate bar that is very light and tasty. Then onto the line where the bars and pralines are molded; filled (optional); jostled to release extra air and evenly distribute ingredients; chilled; unmolded; packed; and prepared for shipping. Having worked in factories, it was interesting to see which tasks were automated (machine) and which were done by hand. And have I mentioned the ever-present smell of chocolate in the air. After lunch in the factory's canteen, we drove through the Russian countryside to a dairy farm, owned by an Englishman and run by two Americans (with a lot of Russian and Central Asian help). We saw cows being milked - quite a production - and learned the American farmers' perspectives on farming in Russia, bureaucracy, veterinary care (and medical care for humans), Russian winters, etc. It was all udderly fascinating... Before we left the farm, we were treated to blini with homemade sour cream and jam. Not only were the blinis the best I had ever eaten, but the homemade sour cream tasted like whipped butter and of the three jams (apricot, cherry, raspberry), which were all excellent, the cherry was to die for. If I had any poetic genes in my body, I would have written an ode to blini on the spot. As we boarded the bus, Galya - who had meant to say "Let's count the chickens" to make sure we were all accounted for, instead said "Let's count the little pigs." We all died laughing. The sweet lady turned ten shades of red, but it was a pretty appropriate word to have popped out of her mouth since that's what we all felt like having been stuffed to the gills with good food! We raced back to Vladimir for a soccer game at their stadium. The Vladimir Torpedoes played the Moscow Torpedoes. Everyone expected the Moscow team to win - they were in a higher league than Vladimir, but we beat them 4-0! It was a lot of fun - Russians are VERY serious about their soccer and the spirit was contagious. Vladimir, Vladimir - davai, davai!

Dasha's Birthday

July 2 The first indication that this would be an interesting day happened when I broke a tooth at lunch. We were eating Central Asian plov when I bit into a rock masquerading as a grain of rice. So, the adventure will continue with a visit to a Russian dentist tomorrow. This afternoon we visited a monastery which had previously served as KGB headquarters. Apparently when they were remodeling the monastery, they found at least one mass grave. Father Innokenti, the eparch secretary, gave us a lecture on the status of Orthodoxy in Russia today. We then visited a convent, arguably the oldest convent in Russia, dating from 1200. There we saw the stunning icon The Holy Mother of Bogolyubovo. The story of how she came to be in Vladimir is a wonderful story which I will elaborate on at a later date, but she is said to have accomplished many miracles. My home in Vladimir is very close to the convent and so Ira and Ksenia met me at the gates and we headed to Mak King for a birthday party. Lena's daughter Dasha turned 8 today. Mak King is like a McDonald's. Burger King, Wendy's, and Pizza Hut all in one, with the menu addition of warm beer served in plastic cups. There is a pretty extensive play area for kids and after some free-range romping, a woman dressed as a clown(?), jester(?), or maybe Pippi Longstocking entertained the girls for more than an hour. They played games, had their faces painted, sang, danced, batted ballons around and then ate pizza, fruit, and cake. It was really fun and makes me wonder what I'll be doing in August on the birthday of someone else I know who is turning 8...

The Dentist and Thanksgiving Dinner

July 3, 2008 The morning felt so "normal." The group left on their excursion to an appliance factory, a blimp “surveillance” firm, and a kids camp, while I sat in front of a computer catching up on email and *finally* posting a few blog entries. The quiet did have an edge of anticipation - much like the feeling you get in the pit of your stomach as you approach the crest of the first hill on a roller coaster: hoping everything will be fun once the real ride begins, but always having a bit of fear that the car might careen off the tracks and you will free-fall to your death. OK, I'm being melodramatic, but I hate going to the dentist in Chicago - I was NOT looking forward to my adventure with a Russian dentist. Ron decided to go with me as he feared that he had lost a filling some days earlier (and he was gleefully looking forward to the opportunity for a photo shoot of the petrified American in the dentist's chair). We also had Zhenya, one of the American Home teachers, with us. I could tell the dentist what happened, but my dental terminology is sorely lacking. Zhenya would - thankfully - be able to translate 'root canal' and 'big drill' and 'knock my ass out if you need to do any serious work on my mouth.' I'm not sure if it was a good omen or not when the skies opened up just as the taxi pulled into the driveway of the American Home. It POURED cat and dog sized raindrops. I guess it was a good distraction - not only did I have NO IDEA where we were headed, but it seemed possible that we wouldn't make it to the dentist's office, what with the potential to hydroplane and crash before we arrived at our destination. Alas, we made it. The dentists were on break, but the receptionist took my information. She was relieved that I could write my name and birthdate in Russian and I was relieved (and surprised) that this was all the information she needed from me.

Then we waited. We waited long enough for the cleaning woman to mop the floor of the reception area and for my anxiety to be transformed into full-fledged DREAD. When I was finally called back into the room, I climbed into a normal dental chair in a very clean, airy room. Problem was, aside from the chair, all of the tools laid out on the tables and trays looked ENORMOUS and about 50 years old! Everything was clean and sterile, but it was obvious that this was not brand-new, state-of-the-art equipment. I will say that everything was arranged beautifully like a museum exhibit. Those are my only impressions before Ron asked if it was OK to take some pictures of me in the chair. The dentist was a kind, young woman who listened to my story, looked in my mouth and sent me down the hall for an x-ray. To clarify: there are no x-ray machines in the examination room as there are in the United States. I was asked to sit on a chair in a very small, dark room. The technician positioned the heavy shield over my torso and instructed me to take my arm out of its safe position under the shield to hold the x-ray film in the necessary spot. Then, she pressed a button and RAN out of the room, slamming the door behind her. CLICK. X-ray taken. Technician returns to rescue me, and I'm soon back in the dentist's chair. The verdict: the tooth is indeed broken (it was where I had a root canal and it wasn't my "real" tooth anyway) and would need to be completely rebuilt. Did I want her to do it right then? Uh, no. But, we asked several more questions to ascertain that everything would be OK until we got back to the States - no chance of it becoming infected or the entire tooth crumbling or falling out. Then, I was able to say very definitively, "NYET, spasibo." Phew. I will add that as relieved as I was, I was chided by Alexei, who said that I should have had the procedure done in Russia where the problem would have been immediately resolved without several office visits, daunting co-payments, etc. But, at least I can tell my dentist to knock me out before she attacks the tooth and know that she understood my request. When we had accomplished Operation Dental Visit, I went back "home" and Ira and Ksenia took me shopping for ingredients to cook dinner for the family. Andrei likes turkey, so I made a Russified version of a simple, American Thanksgiving meal. Baked turkey cutlets in white wine and lemon sauce, boiled new potatoes, served with butter and greens [dill, parsley, spring onions], and salad. It felt great to actually do something for my

family and everyone laughed at my dental office drama. And I even had all of my teeth in order to chew...

Independence Day

July 4, 2008 July 4th is also the anniversary of the dedication of the American Home. Happy 16th anniversary, American Home! Nadya and Lena (one of the young ladies who help with our Russian language and culture lessons) led an excursion to Gus' Khrustal'ny. This is a town where they make glass and crystal. We first visited a glass/crystal museum which was in a building that had been a church before the October Revolution. Walking into the museum was like being inside a kaleidoscope - flashes of brilliant colors everywhere. After being struck by the rainbow of colors, you start to notice the shapes of the objects. Common glass items such as vases and bottles stand next to the most intricate glass figurines you have ever seen. There are also large glass sculptures outside of the display cases and displays of table settings and sitting rooms from various periods of history, all filled with glass and crystal from the town or from other historic glass-making countries. All of this ornate and colorful glass cannot detract from the frescoes on the walls and ceilings which had been covered in whitewash during Soviet times and which have recently been restored. As stunning as the artistry was, I couldn't help but cringe at the gruesome depiction of 'The Last Judgement,' with its anguished souls, piles of bones, and parades of people condemned to hell. Part of me might have preferred a whitewashed wall... Next we visited the factory where the glass and crystal are produced. It was a definite contrast to the new construction and hygienic standards of the Kraft factory. It was dark, dank, HOT with fiery ovens throughout - kind of like being swallowed by a dragon. Still, the artists in the belly of the dragon were amazing. We watched a man create a bird from a glowing mass of molten glass in about 12 minutes. Phenomenal.

The crystal workers were etching designs into some large vases. It was striking to me that most workers were not wearing even the most basic safety gear - no goggles, masks, respirators - and crystal is between 18-24% lead! I'm no scientist, but even I know that lead is NOT good for you to ingest. Kind of took an interesting moment and gave it a very somber spin. After gleaning insight into the process of glass-making, we went to buy some local fruits of their dangerous labors. Even at the time, it seemed ridiculous to buy fragile souvenirs, but we were RIGHT THERE where they were made and a number of ladies in the family like those sorts of knick-knacks. A second store, called "The Experimental Glass Store" had really elaborate, tiny glass figurines, masks, paperweights and other pretty but completely useless items. After lunch, we headed back to Vladimir and attended the oddest orchestral concert ever. It was mostly a concert celebrating families of the region in honor of a saint's day dedicated to happy families, so it was a free-flowing propagandized parade of Russian families and

their testimonial stories interspersed with songs performed by a talented wind ensemble. The culmination for

me was when the ensemble performed the song "Tequila." It was a hoot and an excellent suggestion which prompted me to head back to the American Home. The Independence Day party was terrific - the backyard of the American Home was transformed into a patriotic party land. Lots of good food, drink, and live music. The young jazz singer that Ron had repeatedly raved about was as incredible as her description. There was another young woman with a lovely voice who sang a couple songs with her mother, a singing DJ, and a traditional Russian folk ensemble who led some clumsy but spirited dancing. We laughed and danced until the skies opened up. Again, it POURED. Alexei had been tracking the forecast and knew that rain was predicted, so he had rigged up plastic tarps over all the tables. We had just enough time for a quick toast to the wise Alexei Altonen before we switched gears to damage control and dumping the standing water off the plastic tarps where it was pooling into heavy puddles. Russians are amazingly resilient and just keep on partying - why let a little water and mud slow you down, right? Besides, puddle-stomping is therapeutic.

. Singing in the rain—July 4 celebration at the American Home

The Dacha

July 5, 2008

The weekend was free from presentations and excursions and was to be spent with host families. My Saturday started out with a call from my husband - we're officially at the halfway point of the trip, and though the trip has been an excellent adventure, I do miss Dean, the girls, the cats, cooking, etc. Andrei cooked breakfast and lunch today - what a nice break for Ira, who prefers to sleep in, but has been up getting me ready to leave the house every day. I had a different type of kasha - more like oatmeal than the semolina variety or the buckwheat type. Lunch was soup with pel'meni and really good sausages that were quite like bratwurst. A note about Russian condiments: the dispensing mechanisms for both mayonnaise and mustard are terrific. Mayo comes in foil pouches which have spouts and a lot of mustard comes in toothpaste-type tubes - I guess we have some squeeze bottles, but at the very least, they are bigger and waste more space in the fridge. Anyhow, these streamlined containers and precision spouts allow condiments to be used as the ultimate garnishing tools. In the same way that pastry chefs decorate cakes with icing designs, Russians decorate salads with mayonnaise designs, or squeeze mayo onto fish or meat before baking. I was also surprised to see that there are no less than fifteen types of mayo to choose from in the supermarket, from "plain" varieties to those made from quail eggs or with additions of lemon juice or hot pepper or olive oil. Astonishing. In short, Russians take their condiments very seriously, especially their mayonnaise. After lunch, Ira, Ksyusha and I ran around town souvenir shopping and scoping out bookstores for good books on Russian culture. I found a good one on Russian traditional dress and about a hundred others I would have loved to own, but already my luggage was pushing the weight limits. After the shopping spree, we returned home so that Ksenia and I could pack for a short jaunt to the country. I may have already mentioned that I had the luxury of having an "extended" host family. In addition to the nuclear family (Andrei, Irina, Yaroslav and Ksenia), I was "adopted" by the family of Ira's best friend (Lena, Misha, and Dasha). The ladies sort of shared me, which maximized my adventure and made the babysitting of the crazy American not so arduous for any one family. We also did lots of things together - Ira, Lena, me and the young ladies - while the men were working. At any rate, Lena and Misha picked us up at about 4:00 p.m. to head to the country home where Lena's parents

spend the months from May through October. We first stopped at a large "Spar" supermarket on the outskirts of Vladimir to stock up on food and booze for the weekend and then we headed west out of the city. Misha would fit in perfectly on the roads of Chicago - he's a very aggressive driver. Either that, or he was REALLY excited about getting to the dacha and drove as quickly as possible to get there - upon arrival, this seemed very likely. I immediately fell in love with the country - the air was fresh, the dacha was a masterpiece of samizdat construction, having obviously been expanded several times as the family grew and building materials became available, and the gardens were absolutely amazing. The dacha's facade is green with decorative blue trim, with the traditional fancy carved designs around the windows and along the eaves and the inside was a maze of rooms for preparing food, resting, sleeping, and - of course - sitting and enjoying food and good company. The look and feel of the place reminded me of our own family campground in Springwater, New York where everyone congregates during the summers and contributes to the upkeep of the property, pond, trails, and then gets to reap the rewards of the FUN and EATING that take place when all the aunts, uncles, and cousins get together. I actually stayed in a second structure - the "domik" or little house - behind the main house and vegetable gardens. It was perhaps the first structure on the property - a main room with a table and benches, one bedroom downstairs, and an upstairs "loft" with several couches and beds that also serves as a sitting room. The view from the balcony off this loft showed the back of the main house and all of the raised beds, fruit trees and shrubs. Lena's parents are - not surprisingly - wonderfully kind and generous people. Baba Lusya was more than happy to show me around the yard and we talked about growing vegetables and flowers and she could describe having a veritable orchard at her disposal. The raised beds were filled with carrots, onions, tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, garlic, dill, parsley, lettuces, radishes, beets, and an entire field of potatoes. They also have apple and pear trees, at least one cherry tree, and berry bushes galore. I had the experience of eating several types of currants right off the bush and tasted some berries whose names I promptly forgot but have never seen in the U.S. And, as you might expect, there was a plethora of delicious prepared food as well. When we arrived, we sat

down to borscht, fresh vegetables, and several shots of vodka. After exploring the yard, the men started the fire in the fire pit and we snacked on beer and dried fish as the shashlik was marinating and the coals were getting prepared to grill our supper. The big supermarkets have actual kegs of beer and people can dispense a liter or two and have "fresh" beer rather than bottled. After we had enjoyed the fire for a while and the coals were ready, Misha grilled chicken shashlik and we had a feast before bed. Oh, I would be remiss if I didn't mention my new

friend Dusya, the guinea pig. She's very sweet and I knew that I must be growing on Dasha when she brought Dusya to me to hold.

After shashlik and a few more toasts to US-Russian relations, I sloshed out the to the domik in a full-fledged food coma.

More Dacha Revelations July 6, 2008 After more rain overnight and most of the morning, it turned into a humid and soggy but mostly sunny day in the country. There is standing water everywhere and I'm very grateful for my non-Russian crocs, which are comfy, lightweight, and able to dry very quickly after getting wet. The rain has been very detrimental to the vegetable gardens. The tomatoes, peppers, and cucumbers in particular need a lot more sun than they have been getting. Breakfast at the dacha was a real boost to my confidence. I had been very worried about whether my rudimentary Russian would hold up with older individuals who didn't speak any English, especially given my limited vocabulary. However, the morning perhaps gave me my biggest boost of confidence. I am an early riser, especially given the Russian propensity for staying up late and sleeping in. So, I had breakfast with Lena's parents while everyone else was still asleep. Lena's father wanted to speak about American politics - not my strong suit, and I usually avoid the topic like the plague even in the United States, but I was a guest in their home... Lena's mother wanted to hear about things that were closer to my heart - and easier to describe - such as my family, our apartment, life in Chicago, gardening, cooking, etc. The breakfast conversation was really the best part of the day. The fact that I could understand their questions and responses and even formulate appropriate answers and questions of my own was very empowering. And I've learned that even when I don't know a word, I can use my minimal vocabulary (and a whole lot of arm gestures) to talk around the words I don't know and get my point across. The food was as incredible as the day before and I tasted several foods that were new to me: homemade tvorog (Russians call it cottage cheese, but it's much more like a ricotta or mascarpone); goat milk from goats living down the street; chicory instead of coffee; compote made from kalinka (need to look this up - little berries that I'm not certain have an American equivalent); preserves made from apples, orange zest, and peach juice. We walked around the neighborhood when everyone had finally emerged from their respective cocoons and there was a lull between rain showers. The neighborhood has a lovely pond where people swim and wash clothes and a monument in honor of the people from the area who died in World War II. We passed any number of free-range chickens and ducks along the way, and heard goats and cows bleating behind fences. I gather that the neighborhood used to be a huge communal farm with lots more animals and year-round inhabitants. Now, the nearest school is 3 kilometers away and that would be as far as the moon during the winters. Very few roads are paved and none seem to have any local maintenance. Busing would be a huge issue and it's just easier to move back to Moscow or Vladimir during the winter months. Lena's parents stay in the country from May-October and claim that most of their neighbors are on similar schedules. It was hard to say good-bye at the end of the day. Lena and the girls stayed on for a week's rest and Misha and I headed back to Vladimir. I returned to the city with a bag of radishes, dill, and parsley, which made for a great dinner with a few slices of bread and butter. Because Andrei and Ira were out when I got "home", I had to brave the Russian washing machine by myself. I was sure that I had done something terribly wrong as it ran FOREVER. Seriously, after 1.5 hours I started to wonder if the downstairs neighbors would be coming up to inform me that I had flooded their flat or something. But, it seemed to do the trick - eventually - so that all of my clothes were clean for the trip to Murom on Tuesday. I just hope that the breeze does its job and the rain stays to a minimum so that they will be DRY as well. But that's another story

Scavenger Hunt and the Last Supper July 7 Where do we go from here?

This was our last full day in Vladimir. The American Home staff sent us out on a scavenger hunt. It was hilarious - we ran all over town (literally), taking pictures of signs, sights, and and buying crazy souvenirs, including ingrediants for American style sandwiches for ourselves and our friends for lunch. It was MUCH more fun than I ever would have guessed. We divided into three teams, which each left the Amercan Home in 10-minute intervals. Our team was Barbara Stout (from Arizona), Jeff Schagrin (from a suburb of Chicago), Jackie Lesh (from Baltimore) and myself. We each had a Russian chaperone, in case we got ourselves lost or in a pickle language-wise. Ours was Anya, one of the newly-

graduated students of English at the pedagogical institute. One task throughout the morning was to take pictof signs around town that were in English or were cognates of English words written in Cyrillic. Jackie was ourdesignated photographer and snapped all sorts of images that we pointed at as we ran along. Barb was our cheerleader - who knew that this sweet woman could have such a competitive spirit - when I say that we RAN around Vladimir, I am not exaggerating. She kept us marching at a very fast clip until we accomplished all of our tasks. In addition to finding English words and Russian cognates, we also had to take snapshots of a varietof plaques, buildings, cathedrals, or other structures throughout the city. One such photograph was of a plaque dedicated to some admiral who had circumnavigated Antarctica/the South Pole. The clue on the sheet instructed us to take a picture and try to figure out what the admiral was being honored for. How I looked at the plaque and pu

ures

y

lled the word 'circumnavigate' out of my

I e.

e

est of us?!? But, we have the souvenir to prove her point).

cobwebby brain, I'll never know. We all learned a great deal on this scavenger hunt, anddaresay we all saw places that we hadn't seen beforJeff picked out a goofy rat souvenir at the folk art museum, and each picture after the purchase containedour buddy, the Rat. (As a side note: it is currently thChinese Year of the Rat and there were rat-shaped images all over the place, on posters, embodied as souvenirs, etc. Jackie had asked in one of our Russian culture sessions if there were an inordinate number of rat images around because of the Year of the Rat and people laughed at her. Who knew that she was much moreperceptive than the r One of the tasks was to purchase a souvenir that Russians would consider quite normal, but American students would find odd. We bought two things to fulfill this obligation: we bought mayonnaise made from quail eggs - which sits right in the dairy case with the other 14-19 types of mayonnaise - and a key. Some Russian keys are

monstrous, old-fashioned keys that look like something out of gothic horror movies. We noticed that there was a kiosk that sold and cut keys in the mall, so I managed to explain to the guy working there that I needed a long, double-sided key to bring home as a souvenir. He smirked, but found me three good examples of such a key from which I could choose. Expensive little booger, but cool. Mailing a required postcard

The proffered lunches from each team were all similar, but our team had the foresight to buy two items that the other teams did not provide: mustard and dessert. After hunts and classes finished up for the day, I was in for another treat. Ira and Andrei made a fantastic dinner as my "last supper" in Vladimir. (My mother always used to ask what we wanted for our "last supper" before going back to college, hence the term). We exchanged presents, ate all sorts of fantastic food - including a traditional meat and potato casserole baked in individual earthenware crocks - and toasted to our new extended families. The day ended with Yaroslav and me watching "Family Guy" in Russian (called, in Russia, "The Griffins"). It was absolutely as obnoxious and hilarious as in the States and made me feel a little less sad and apprehensive about leaving what had really come to feel like home... Fixing sandwiches with Jackie

The Late Start to Murom July 8 Today was the first day that didn't go according to schedule. The major wrinkle in our day is not fodder for blog postings. Suffice it to say that we might possibly have a deportation situation on our hands and one of our participants might have an official invitation to return to Chicago a few days earlier than planned. For those of you who are thinking that we had a kamikaze teacher who decided to hijack a tram or who was detained for public exposure, get those images out of your heads. In fact, we learned today that if one travels on a humanitarian visa, one is supposedly not allowed to talk about politics. The American Home is working to sort out the situation, but the bottom line is that one of our young men was NOT on the bus with us to Murom and the collective morale on the bus is in the proverbial toilet. In a show of solidarity, we voted to stay in Vladimir until he was back at the American Home and we knew that he was - at least physically - OK. We arrived in Murom as the evening was approaching and the military equipment we could see behind walls and the armored train Ilya Muromets took on a strange significance after the events of earlier in the day.

But, our gracious hosts - including Ilya Muromets himself - met us at the Murom Institute and welcomed us with bread, salt, and open arms. They held a small ceremony to introduce us to a few salient points of Muroms ancient history and sent us off to our new homes with our hosts. My host, Lena, is a teacher of English at the Murom Institute. She lives on the ninth floor of a Kruschev-era apartment building with her husband, Yura; her daughter, Lilya; and the real ruler of the roost - Persik, the cat. The view from Lena's kitchen and great room looks onto the Oka River and the enormous new suspension bridge that is being built across the river. The view from the bedroom that I occupied is over a patchwork quilt of kitchen gardens. The land used to be a communal farm and is now divided into personal plots filled with produce to sustain one's family through the long winters or to sell for a few extra rubles. The sight from the balcony is quite breathtaking - it's really beautiful aesthetically. The impression is bittersweet though, tinged with a sadness born from the realization that these few rows of carrots, tomatoes and cucumbers aren't about enjoying the hobby of gardening. The painstaking care of these gardens comes from the survival mechanism that is somehow ingrained in the Russian psyche in a society that has almost no middle class. One of the very obvious differences between the Russia of 1992 and 1994 and that of 2008 is that almost everything exists in Russia today, but much isn't even remotely affordable for the majority of Russians. Case in point: FOOD. At least in the supermarkets, food costs about as much as it does in the United States. I often balk at the price of groceries in Chicago on a decent salary for someone in my administrative position - I don't quite know how a teacher, who might make as little as the equivalent of $125 per month, can survive! This has been a day in which lots of comparisons between Russia and the United States have been raised, but the final vision for me is of the same serene moon that will rise several hours from now in Chicago and I am happy to end the day with something universal and beautiful.

Murom

MORE TO COME…. Murom Institute