Who Moved My Сыр?

Our truck has broken down again, so on Monday Janae and her son Walker picked AJ and I up and we went grocery shopping. Having the truck broken down is kind of a mixed blessing. It stinks to not have a truck whenever we need it, but Janae is kind enough to take me grocery shopping and I really enjoy the company. Walker is really great with AJ and she loves it when he pushes her around in the cart. I was trying to get a lot of groceries so I ended up needing two carts. The carts here are like everything else, very small. 

I had just finished at the cheese counter and we were heading toward the check out line when a woman came up to me and started speaking really quickly in Russian. I told her I didn't understand but she kept talking very quickly. I looked at Walker and asked him if he knew what she was talking about. He didn't have a clue either. She kept repeating herself over and over and finally I picked out the word for cheese. "Aha! I know just where the cheese counter is," I thought. I pointed to the back of the store  towards the cheese counter. She shook her head no. She knew where they kept the cheese. 

 I had taken the last of the Parmesan cheese and she was in desperate need of it. 

I was really tempted to tell her to take a hike, but I did not have a specific dish that I needed the Parmesan for, I just like to have it on hand. I decided that if she was going to accost a strange foreigner in a grocery store she probably really needed the cheese. I like to think that I saved her dinner party or helped her make the perfect dish for her husband's birthday dinner or that she had had an uncontrollable craving for spaghetti and it wouldn't be the same without Parmesan. I'm sure it was something equally dramatic. 

Our Fall Trip to New England

Sometimes I have imaginary conversations with Dave. I'll think, "Oh, the fall leaves are beautiful! We should go to Maine and see the changing of the seasons!" 

Meggan: Dave, let's go to Maine and see the leaves. 

Dave: ...

Meggan: We'll buy plane tickets, and rent a car, and drive around and look at leaves! Doesn't that sound like fun???!!! We could stay at old bed and breakfasts and stop in little antique stores!

Dave: ...

Meggan: I'm sure it wouldn't be too expensive, and because they catch the lobsters right there they are probably like half price! We could eat Maine lobster in MAINE!!!!

Dave: ...


This imaginary conversation took place as we were driving through the beautiful orange and yellows of fall in Russia. I decided that this was probably as close as I was going to get get to a trip to New England, so every five minutes I said, "Oh, isn't that beautiful!" And every five minutes Dave said, "Yes."

Pumpkin Search Party

At the end of August or the beginning of September, my friend Janae said, "Now would be a good time to start looking for pumpkins." Having to search for pumpkins is not something I had ever really thought about before. But, Janae has been here almost three years and I consider her my guru on all things related to life in Russia. She reminded me several more times over the next couple weeks, and she was planning on staking out the open market and trying to get one of the Babushkas to provide the pumpkin hook up.

When I saw the mini pumpkin at the open market I knew I needed to take immediate action to secure some pumpkins. I bought that one and then tried to find out if I could get more. I asked what the word for pumpkin was in Russian, it is Kasha. I called Dave's interpreter and said, "Hi Kate, I am trying to get some pumpkins, some Kasha, can you ask this Babushka if she has some and if maybe she could bring some next week?" Kate agreed to try and I went to hand my phone to the Babushka to see if we could work out a plan. She wouldn't take the phone so I had to bend over and hold it up to her ear. That was not working and Kate wasn't making any progress. I thanked her and hung up and considered my next step.

"Yest balshoy kasha?" I asked about 5 times, "Have big pumpkin?" She didn't seem to understand what I was looking for. Then another lady came over and started talking to me really fast. I told her in Russian that I didn't understand, but she kept on talking  and soon another lady got in the mix. They were all three talking to me in Russian, but after a little bit, a few words started popping out. I understood car, pumpkin, house. It finally occurred to me that she wanted me to drive her to her house and she would sell me pumpkins there. She was pretty little and pretty old so I figured I was probably pretty safe. Plus, 15 people were watching us hatch this plan so at least one of them would tell the police where I went with my one-year-old daughter in the event that we turned up missing or dead. 

We got in the truck and she directed me down a side street and past the park and over one of the worst dirt roads I have seen in Russia. I drove up a narrow drive and parked in front of a burgundy garage and fence and followed her into her back yard. I think she expected me to leave AJ in the truck because she just took off without waiting for me to get her out of her car seat. I followed her through a gate and down into her back yard. We were still in the city limits but you really weren't able to tell. There were chickens all over the place and random squashes and about 30 pumpkins all piled under a low hanging tree. 

"Eureka!" I cried.

 Not really."Awesome!" I cried. And then I called Janae and asked her how many pumpkins she wanted. We settled on 8 total and I proceeded to pick out our pumpkins. I think the Babushka thought I wanted to eat them because she kept cutting little divots out of the top of them to show me the flesh. Luckily, they weren't too big, but I did get a little nervous when she walked up with the hatchet. Nervous for the pumpkins. She was pretty nice so I wasn't too worried for me. 


I asked her how much they were and she wanted 100 rubles for the little ones and 200 for the big ones. I couldn't understand most of what she was saying, so I just pulled 1,000 rubles out of my pocket and she seemed pretty pleased with that. We hauled the pumpkins back to the truck and loaded them around AJ in the back seat, I've learned not to put anything that I don't want to be ruined in the bed of the truck. I turned to the Babushka and said, "Balshoy Spaseeba!" She seemed pleased with my big thanks but then looked alarmed like I might not take her back to the market. I gave her a ride back and drove home with my triumphant load of pumpkins.  

Have a Seat.

I love the bright colors of the houses here. I really feel like they have a fairy tale quality to them. Granted, some do look like they are where the wicked witch might live, but a lot of them are charming. They all seem to have benches in front of them, and if you drive through town in the evening or in the afternoon on Sunday, you see Babushkas and Dadushkas out gossiping and watching the world and crazy Americans drive by. I don't generally like to take pictures of people without their permission, and I really don't feel up to pantomiming blogging for them... so here are the benches without occupants. 

Meggan's Random Russia

There are a lot of different and weird things that happen here that I find interesting but wouldn't exactly make up an entire blog post. Here are a few:

• On the farms over here, female tractor drivers are called tractoristas. It sounds like they should be able to make fancy coffee too.
• Apparently, because this is company housing some people don't feel the need to knock. I just had a truck driver open my front door and come in to ask for directions.
• You will get yelled at by a Babushka if you don't have a hat on your kid, even if it isn't particularly cold or sunny or windy. 
• Eggs come in packs of 10 instead of 12, and they don't need to be refrigerated because they haven't been washed. While that does free up room in my teeny tiny fridge, it is disconcerting to see poop and feathers on your eggs.
• If shop keepers think that you don't need something, they won't sell it to you. My friend tried to buy a diaper bucket without a baby and was told she didn't need it so she couldn't have it.
• It seems like all the women wear nylons. It is a little odd to see a teenager with shiny old lady legs under her super short skirt.
• Most of the grocery stores won't let you take a cart out to your car, so you have to be careful not to buy more than you can carry.
• All the dairy products come with the milk fat percentages on the front of them. 1% or 0% milk fat is really hard to find. That could be because we are out in the boonies. It might be easier in a big city.
• There is only one gas station in our town of 15,000 people! Getting gas is a real ordeal for me, especially when it is just me and AJ. I have to hold her while I try and pull the hose over the truck to fill up both tanks. Recently the company gas card didn't work and they had to shut down a pump for 30 minutes while I tried to get it straightened out with an interpreter. Needless to say, I am not super popular at the gas station.
• There are two kinds of people in the world. People who slow down what they are saying when they realize you don't speak their language, and PEOPLE WHO JUST RAISE THE VOLUME OF THEIR VOICE BUT CONTINUE TO SPEAK AT THE SAME SPEED AND THROW IN A LOT OF EXTRA WORDS JUST FOR FUN!
• Everything needs to be stamped. To get out of the electronics store in the mall you need three stamps on your receipt. I had to get a stamp and special permission to drive Dave's work truck. 
• Here you can break up packs of things with no problem, you can buy one diaper or one yogurt. Beer doesn't come in packs or cases, but it does come in lovely half liter bottles for an extra 4 ounces per beer!
• Nobody sells ice! You have to really plan ahead to have frosty cocktails.
• There are small random cemeteries all over the place. There is one behind our house. What I don't get is there aren't quite enough of them if you consider how long Russia has been a country. What were the doing with all those dead bodies before the 1800's?

I am a little home sick right now. I could sure go for an iced coffee and a gossip magazine and a pedicure and my mom. Oh well, no one said being an international ranch wife of mystery would be easy. 

The Nod

Russian people really don't want to wave at you. I was taking it pretty personally when we first got here. I waved at the farm workers, I waved at the villagers, I waved at people driving by, and I got blank stares in return. It was really bumming me out. Then I started watching the people around here more, and it wasn't that they were unfriendly, they just don't wave. If someone is giving you a casual friendly greeting here they are much more inclined to nod.

Eureka! When I figured that out I started to nod at everybody. I nodded at the farm workers and they nodded back. I nodded at the villagers and they nodded back. I nodded at people driving by and they drove off the rode from trying to drive and nod. Just kidding, they nodded back. It was like I had broken the hello code. I realize it might not seem like that big of a deal, but in Northeastern Nevada almost every car that I passed on my way into town waved at me. I was feeling pretty lonely here.

Not only do they nod, you can kind of gauge how happy someone is to see you based on how big the nod is. One of my acquaintances in the nearest village practically nods from his waist when I drive by. It is pretty gratifying, but difficult to return on that scale while driving. Sometimes I slip up because my first instinct is to wave. The engineer/ mechanic on our farm will wave back, but the face he makes while he is doing it makes me think he is just humoring the silly American lady who can't get her stuff together enough to remember to nod. 

Decorating Chicken

When Dave and I first arrived in Russia we did a lot more exploring than we do now. We were really interested in checking out the open market in Unecha. We arrived a little late in the day for the open market, they usually wrap up around one, so all of the stalls weren't open. We wandered up and down the aisles checking out the various good. One stall was full of velvet paintings, and that is where we saw it in full velvet glory. A half naked Egyptian lady hanging out with her buddy the lion, you know, chilling. 

Dave said he had to have it. Money was no object, it must be his. He would proudly display it here in Russia and then we would somehow get it home with us, and that lovely velvet painting would be on display in the Voth home for many years to come. Ten years in, I know when Dave is joking. But sometimes you just have to roll with things and see how they play out. We decided that we would forgo the painting that day, but if we saw it again of course we would have to get it.

A few weeks later we were looking to buy a baby walker for AJ and happened upon another copy of the best painting in the world in Surazh. This one was smaller and not on velvet, so while not as totally awesome, it was a little more portable and a lot fewer Rubles. Dave threatened again to buy it, and I persuaded him that we should wait until we knew exactly where in the house we should hang it. So, we bought the walker and promptly forgot about it.

A few weeks ago I went to Bryansk with some of the other Americans while Dave had to work. We went to the Metro which is a huge Costco like store with a ton of imported stuff. I was looking through some picture frames in the back of the store when I stumbled upon it. A giant poster of the painting. At 300 Rubles it was too good a deal to pass up. I knew that if I bought it there was a pretty good chance I would have to hang it up, but I figured the look on Dave's face when I brought it in from the truck would be worth years of a painting I don't particularly like. 

I made it home with only a few dents to the poster, and opened the door and said, "You are about to tell me that I am totally awesome and the best wife ever." I went back out to the truck and brought the poster back in. Dave did a double take and then laughed his butt off. That was worth the 300 Rubles, but now I do have it hanging up. Luckily it is in the bedroom so hardly anyone will see it, but it does make our taste in artwork a little more suspect to have this masterpiece in the boudoir.

All The Blueberries Ever.

                One of my favorite things to do here is go to the open market. It is kind of like a farmer’s market and a flea market combined.  Every town has one, and you can find all kinds of awesome things. The language barrier isn’t too hard to overcome and when it is the worst thing that happens is you come home with way too many blueberries. I’m not kidding. I just bought like 11 cups of blueberries on accident. I have already made blueberry cake and blueberry cobbler and I still have like 7 cups left. I have come to the end of my blueberry utilization skills. 

                The lady that was selling the blueberries had a huge bucket full and I asked how much they were and she said 150  Rubles, so I said, “horosho.” Which I thought meant, “OK, let me have a reasonable amount of blueberries and I will pay you 150 Rubles, roughly three dollars.” Apparently, it was 150 for the whole bucket.  I really like having fresh produce, and I also like contributing to the local economy, especially considering that the ladies at the market are the nicest I’ve met in Russia. I still don’t know numbers past 10, so usually I just pull out a handful of coins and they pick out what they need. Some of them count them out as they take them, probably trying to get me to learn to count.

                They set up their wares in two lines lining the path to the entrance of the market. When I get there I walk up and down checking all the produce out before I purchase anything and they try and sell me everything they have. I end up saying, “Nia nada,” a lot which means, “I don’t need it.” I don’t know if it is because my pronunciation is funny or if they are charmed with my half assed attempts to speak Russian because they always repeat what I say back to me. When one of them asked if AJ was a boy or a girl and I said, “Doch” which means, “daughter” they all said it back to me and laughed their butts off.

                I usually just buy a ton of tomatoes because I know how to prepare them. You know the feeling you get when someone is talking about you? One of the last times I went I heard one of the ladies saying something about tomatoes. And in my head I thought, “This crazy American. She must eat nothing but tomatoes. I tell you these Americans LOVE tomatoes!” And while I do love tomatoes I don’t want to contribute to any weird stereotypes. 

Plant Homicide and Singing Dragons

                It has been a long couple of weeks. The realities of rural Russian life set in pretty hard, and I have been missing friends and family and the conveniences available in America quite a bit. It has been pretty lonely. A lot of Americans have gone back home at this point, so those of us that are left are pretty scattered around the country side. Dave has been really busy at work and our truck has broken down again so AJ and I have been sticking pretty close to home.

                My brain is getting acclimated to reading signs in Russian. Yesterday I was in town shopping and I was trying to read a big sign, it was a tricky word and I was really sounding it out, “Mirrr… mirrr… mirr ackle. Mirr aakle.” My friend Misty was with me and she looked at me, “Miracle?” The sign was in English. I was trying so hard to read it in Russian it didn’t even occur to me that it was a word I did know. In my defense the word “mir” in Russian means world, so I thought it was some kind of store that sold one particular kind of thing. Shoe world, or borscht world.  Something along those lines.

                I’ve been plant sitting for a friend that was on vacation, and I managed to only kill two of them, one indoor plant and one outdoor plant. I don’t know what it is about me that makes plants want to give up the ghost, but they do not generally last too long in our house. I am starting to think that maybe they are like horses and can tell when you are afraid of them. I guess I have better luck with dogs and babies because they let you know when they want something. Plants just sit there looking all beautiful and stuff and then the next thing you know, bam, dead. If reverse Red Dawn happens while we are over here, I hope our Russian neighbors will be willing to share their harvests because I don’t think I would be a very good subsistence farmer.

                The guys that work with Dave on this farm are pretty generous. One of them bought a toy for AJ. It is a stuffed dragon that does a little dance and sings a song in English. It was really sweet of him and AJ really likes it. The only problem is that though I can’t quit make out all the words, it is a pop song and it does use the word bitch at least once. We have also been given a gigantic bag of cucumbers and recently some spun honey that is totally yummy. The gift giving culture here dictates that you do not want to be the last person to give a gift. One of the guys recently had a baby we gave them a couple outfits. The next day he came back with a bottle of vodka and some wafer cookies.  

Orange Lemony Goodness

I don't think the ladies at the grocery store like me. For the third time since I've come to Russia I have come home from the grocery store with gum that I bought on accident. The first time I thought I knocked the gum onto the conveyor belt. The second time I thought maybe the same thing had happened. I do buy what the average Russian would consider a lot when I go to the store. This time I'm pretty sure someone looked at me and thought, "Ah. I will fix this stupid American's wagon. I will slip gum in with her other purchases and she wont notice until she has spent 73 Rubles that she did not intend to spend. Take that America!" Well the joke is on her because it is delicious and I love it. Take that Russia!

Flip Flops Were a Bad Idea.

                I have often joked that if my life were a novel the subtitle would be, “Flip Flops Were a Bad Decision.” Wearing new flip flops in Disneyland, bad idea. Flip flops when Dave is in a hurry, bad idea. Flip flops in the barn, bad idea. Flip flops in Russia in a sketchy truck with no minutes on your phone, no water in the backpack, and no snacks for the baby, really bad idea.               
                We had been without the truck for about three weeks when Dave drove it home at lunch. It had been declared “fixed” and was ready to go. I had been going a little stir crazy so I decided on a last minute trip to town that afternoon. I was out of minutes on my phone so I called Dave through Skype and told him I was going to town to fill up my phone and get a couple things at the store. He said that sounded good and let me know he was going to be late again, probably wouldn’t get home until eight or nine.  I thought that was perfect because that way I could fix a late dinner and take my time in town.
                Normally I have a drawer in the wardrobe by the front door dedicated to getting ready to go stuff. Snacks, baby shoes, and all the goodies you need as a mommy to make things go smoothly. I was so ready to get out of the house that I just grabbed the diaper bag without even checking to see what was in it and hit the road. This was my first time going to Trubchevsk by myself, so I was a little nervous that I might not be able to find the grocery store on the first try, but no big deal, I had plenty of time.
                By the time I was driving through the nearest village, Kotlokova, I knew something was a little fishy with the truck. Not being a master mechanic, I decided to keep going and let Dave know it was a little funky when I got home. I made it just outside of Golevesk and the truck totally stopped working. I wasn’t thinking very clearly because I didn’t get it all the way off the road before I came to a stop. So. There I was broke down, half on half off the road in the middle of Russia with no way to phone for help, 10 miles from home, with no water and a cranky baby and wearing flip flops. Yikes.
                I checked the time, it was 5:15. Best case scenario, Dave would get home at eight that night, wonder where I am, and call. Then I could let him know I was stranded. My phone could take calls but not make them. I really was not looking forward to sitting in a hot truck for three to four hours. So I put AJ in the carrier, grabbed 300 rubles and my travel dictionary and started walking to Golevesk. The town in really tiny and doesn’t have a store, but there is a nice babushka that sells potatoes, carrots, onions and flowers in a little stand by the side of the road. I had bought carrots and a lily from her the week before and I thought maybe she could help me.
                I made it to her house and saw to my amazement a pay phone that I had never seen before. Yay!! I had 70 Rubles in coins in my pocket. Problem solved. Three barking dogs started running at me and I couldn’t get any closer to the phone. The nice babushka shooed them away as I said, “Machina niet roboto,” which is essentially, “Car no work.” One of the first things you learn in Russia is, “Niet Robota,” because a lot of things don’t work. I gestured to the telephone and asked if I could use it. I asked, “Rubles?” and she replied, “Niet. Carta.” I had left all my debit cards back in the truck because I didn’t think I would need them. Oh well, back to the truck for my debit card. This time, I grabbed my whole diaper bag and wallet and walked back to the pay phone. She was waiting outside her house for me and got the dogs out of my way and let me walk up to the pay phone. I put my card in… nothing. Niet roboto.
                Babushka was ready to come to my aid, she tried to wave down several cars for me so I could get a ride. Finally, a cargo truck stopped, but based on what he said, I think he was going to a different town and didn’t want to drop me at the farm. A bus passed by but it didn’t stop. Argh. An actual taxi stopped but he must not have liked the look of me because even though he did not have a passenger he wouldn’t give me a ride. She decided to try and call and get me a taxi. She went inside and got her phone, and I said, “Plejalsta, ya telephone mush.” Essentially, “Please, I telephone husband.” She happily handed me her phone and I punched in Dave’s number… niet roboto. She dialed his number… niet roboto. I tried one more time, held down the zero key to get the plus sign and dialed again, and then I heard the long thin ring of a Russian phone ringing and Dave answers the phone.  
                He says he will try and get somebody over to me, and that he will do his best. His best is good enough for me, so totally relieved I say to my new bestie, “Bolshoy Spasiba!!! Bolshoy Spasiba!!” I try to hand her some rubles while I say, “Big thanks, big thanks!” She won’t take the money and tells me, “Nasdarovia!”  It is, “To my health.” Awesome. She tries to convince me to sit in the shade on the bench in front of her house, but I don’t know who is coming to get me and they aren’t going to be looking for me there, so I decline and start to walk back to the truck. When I get to the truck I try and push it off the road, but my awesome flip flops won’t let me get purchase, so it stays right where it is. As soon as I give up I see a Miratorg car pull up behind me and the farm mechanic has come to my rescue.

                I am convinced that the only reason this happened is because I left the house with no minutes on my phone, no water, and in flip flops. If I had been prepared or wearing tennis shoes this never would have happened. Please don’t interpret this as me giving up on flip flops. I’m just going to start stocking my phone and the diaper bag a little better. 

Water Balloons, Weenies, and Nuggets.

                Things have been pretty quiet around here recently, our truck has been in the shop, so we really haven’t been able to go exploring. Dave has been working a lot because this farm artificially inseminates a lot of their cows. So, other than Dave and I both getting colds, we don't have anything new to reprort.

                Last Sunday was a lot of fun, all the American families came over for a weenie roast and the kids had a big water balloon fight. The houses here don’t have water spigots on the outside so we had to run a hose through the bathroom window and attach it to the shower. The water balloon nozzle wasn’t the right size so one of the dads took apart a syringe and put it over the end of the hose and filled up the balloons that way.

                The hot dogs here are really different. They come individually wrapped inside printed packages and when you take them out they are very pale and icky looking. I think they taste pretty good but they look so gross they kind of freak Dave out. 

                The night before last AJ walked for the first time. She was standing by me next to the couch and she looked at Dave and just took off over to him. It was amazing. She is getting progressively sturdier. It is pretty cool. She has added chicken nuggets and scrambled eggs to the list of things she likes to eat. She also clearly says, “No.” Dave and I disagree as to whether her, “Dog” is actually “Dog” or if it is in fact “Dooo.” She is definitely changing every day.

Adios, Surazh.

                We are on our third farm here in Russia. We moved right before our vacation from our farm by Surazh to a farm near the town of Klitnya. We got there on Friday and left for our vacation on Tuesday. It was barely enough time to get everything clean and get some laundry done. We got back to the Farm on Friday and found out on Sunday that we were moving to a farm in the Trubchevsk district. The next day. So, we were on our new new farm on Monday.

                I was excited when we moved to the farm near Klitnya because we were going to be closer to other Americans and I liked the layout of the house better. There were a couple funky things about that house but it wasn’t too bad. There weren’t any forks or pans but there were 7 spoons. The windows didn’t have screens but there was a decorative butter dish and a floral dessert plate set. The floors were really cool and looked like they were made out of a distressed wood but even after two moppings AJ still had dirty knees and hands from crawling. And then there was a funky smell that came out of the pipes. I would have been able to deal with it, but I’m really glad I didn’t have to.

                Since our truck was broken down our friends Matt and Cari came to help us move. Luckily they have a trailer so we were able to throw everything in the back and hit the road. It was not one of my best packing jobs, but pretty much everything made it, except the eggs. It was a good thing Matt was driving because the roads were really bumpy and I kept on thinking, “I wonder why we aren’t going faster?” only to realize that it was to keep all of our possessions in one piece.

                Our new neighbors met us at the new place with dinner and a couple beers. That night AJ slept through the whole night. It was a wonderful treat and kind of a teaser really because she is still recovering from jet lag and has yet to repeat that. So, we have been in this house about a week, and as I am still recovering from AJ’s jet lag too, I have yet to get really settled in.  I like this house, it kind of has a vacation cabin feel to it and I’m really pleased with it.

                This house has spoons and dishes and one thing neither of the other houses had: a dog. Her name is Puddy Anne and she likes to bark. A lot.  The funny thing is though is she really only barks at the Russians. I think she might be having an identity crisis and I tried to explain to her that she was Russian and barking at other Russians was just rude, but my logic failed to convince her so she does her doggy duty and protects the house from Russians. Unfortunately, the entrance to the farm is beyond our house so there are lots and lots of Russians for her to protect us from during the day.  The last couple days there have been workers cutting weeds along the driveway and she has been following them and barking. They are very nonchalant about it and ignore her. I don’t think it has affected her self-confidence, she still lets them know they are not welcome. Pretty rude.

                The other awesome thing about this house is that it came with a planted flower bed, and luckily it has been raining a lot so it is going to be very hard for me to kill them! I bought a started lily plant from a lady on the side of the road on Friday, but since it has been raining pretty hard every day since I bought it I have yet to get it planted. When I told Dave I bought it he said, “Oh, good. That is exactly what I was hoping for.” Given my track record with flowers I think he was joking.

                The Russian farm manager lives next door and he is a pretty friendly fellow. After Dave’s first day at work he stopped by in the evening with a little vodka. He speaks a few words of English and Dave and I know a few words in Russian so we were able to cover the really important topics like the sounds animals make in Russian and in English. Sheep baa wherever they are, but chickens say something really weird. A couple nights later the farm mechanic came over with the manager and brought a gigantic jar of raw honey with strict instructions that we should give lots of it to the baby to make her grow strong. We were also supposed to dip raw cucumbers in there and take huge bites of them directly after a big drink of vodka. Not my favorite thing ever, to say the least. Dave went over to the manager’s house for “Choo Choo” vodka. Choo Choo means a little, and Dave might have had choo choo by Russian standards, but it was a little more than choo choo by our standards. He washed it down with pork fat and sauerkraut. I’m really glad that AJ was sleeping, because I got to stay home. Not that I don’t like to try new things, it is just hard to give an excuse why you don’t want that third shot of vodka when there is a huge language barrier keeping you from polite excuses. 

Half a World Away

I knew when we moved to Russia that we would be far away from family and friends. The literal truth of half a world away never hit me until I needed to get home in a hurry. Late last month I got a call from my mom and we needed to get home quick. Well, the call came on a Friday, which meant the soonest we could really get a flight home was Tuesday. With the realities of time zones and international flights, that put us in Salt Lake City on Wednesday at midnight.

Our driver showed up at 6:00 in the morning and our flight left at 3:00pm. The seven hours to Moscow were pretty stressful and involved our driver driving on the shoulder of the highway around traffic stopped for road construction. We made it to the airport, got in the wrong line, found the right line, found our gate, found food, and in a hectic mad rush got on the plane only to realize we had two tickets, not three.  That poor flight attendant probably thought I was a crazy lady as I stood there with a baby and a car seat and no place to put them. Luckily the flight wasn’t full so we got a row of four seats to ourselves.

In New York we had to get our baggage and take it through customs and re-check it. Got in the wrong line again. Found the right line, found the bathroom, found the right terminal. At this point Dave and I have come to an impasse. I am sure that it is morning and Dave is pretty sure that it is evening. So, we ask the next person we see for the time. He kindly informs us that it is 6:20, and I say, “In the morning?” and he looks at me like I’m a nut and says, “No, in the evening.” I guess I’m no good at time travel. Dave was momentarily gleeful until we realized that we only had an hour to get through security and get to our gate. Yikes.

We made it to Salt Lake City and AJ promptly got the stomach flu followed very closely by Dave getting the stomach flu. I’ve never been puked on so much in my life.

It was a short two weeks in the states and then we were headed home again. We flew on a different airline this time and they did not let me bring the car seat on board since we still only had two tickets. That was a long eleven hours. I know a lot of moms are okay holding their babies on long flights, but my wiggle worm was not too happy. When we made it to Moscow we got in the wrong line again. This time though it was a Russian line which is very different from an American line and involves pushing and cutting and yelling. Made it through that line and our driver was late so we had to wait two hours in the airport for him to show up.

The time change has been pretty rough on all of us, and the last three nights have involved midnight mommy and AJ parties. I’m pretty well partied out.

  

The potty mouth alcoholic.

                A couple of weeks ago Dave had to go to an impromptu meeting at company headquarters near Bryansk. Since we were going to be so close to the city, Carrie, one of my new American friends, and her daughter Hailey, and I decided to go to the mall. We all met at Carrie’s house and the guys carpooled to the meeting. We were originally going to take our truck since it has air conditioning, but only one seatbelt in the back works, so we couldn’t fit two car seats in there. We had to take Carrie’s truck instead. I offered to drive, I didn’t really think that this would be the day that Carrie found out that I was a potty mouth.

                Driving in Russia is intense. People pass you anytime they feel like you aren’t going as fast as a person could possibly be driving at any moment. They pass you in town, on corners, and around a solid line. They follow really close, and squeeze in around you on dangerous stretches. Luckily, because the roads are so terrible it is hard to go faster than 110 kilometers per hour. Even though everyone around you is driving like a crazy person, you probably won’t die if you crash.  I say everyone around you is driving like a crazy person, but really I have had to adopt a lot more aggressiveness in my driving. 

                The other day I passed a semi in a turn lane across a solid line. Dave waited until I got back in our lane and said, “Well, I think that was really illegal.” I promised I wouldn’t do it again.  When Carrie and I were headed to the mall, things were going really well till we hit the first round about, and I let one of my milder curse words slip. Luckily both of the girls were asleep in the back seat for the other round about. Russia is awfully fond of roundabouts, and I seem to always be in the wrong lane. Carrie heard a few more choice words and we made it to the mall.

                We had a nice lunch, and tooled around the baby store and bought baby shoes. Then we went to the grocery store in the mall. It was awesome. Clean and huge, it has an incredible selection of home stuff, clothes, and camping gear as well as a lot of food. And… and this is a big AND… THEY HAVE CORONA!!!!!!!!!!!!  Can you believe it? Mexican beer in Russia. It was awesome to see. So I put a six pack in my cart. Well, it looked lonely so I put another one in there. And then that was only 12 beers and we only get to Bryansk every so often, so I put another one in there. I ended up putting every Corona the store had stocked on their shelf in my cart, and if my Russian was better I would have asked for all the Coronas they had in the back too. As I was putting all of them in my cart I said to Carrie, “I promise I’m not an alcoholic!”  Hopefully she believed me. I didn’t really understand how they were priced and ended up paying a lot for each of them. So much that I didn’t tell Dave how much they were because if he knew what they cost he wouldn’t have been able to enjoy them.

                We tooled down to the “foreign food” aisle. Tortillas!! I grabbed about 10 packages of tortillas, salsa, and jalapenos. It was like a fiesta in my cart. All in all it was a good trip, even if Carrie now knows that I am a potty mouthed alcoholic.  

The other country in my life...

                Some things about Russia I like so much it makes me feel like I am cheating on America. My favorite bird has always been the crane, and I have been lucky that the ranches we lived on in California and Nevada had cranes, at least seasonally. They are majestic and beautiful. I think they are incredibly graceful and I always considered them lucky. I felt like if I saw a crane my day was bound to be a good one. Here there are storks. Lots and lots of storks. They are everywhere. They are also beautiful and majestic, but in contrast to cranes, they let me get a lot closer to them. I don’t know that I have ever been closer than 50 feet to a crane. Today I got to see a stork take flight directly above me. It was no more that twelve feet away. It was amazing. And they are all over the place. They nest on people’s houses and the top of telephone poles and like to hang out in the pastures by our house. Incredible.

                I also love the different landscapes that are near where we live. Our farm here is in the middle of rolling hills, and there are little groves of trees every so often. To get to our closest American neighbor’s farm you have to drive through a bit of forest. It is a pretty magical forest, and it is easy to imagine fairies and princesses. It is also really easy to imagine witches and evil spirits here too. It is no wonder that fairy tales originate in Europe. There is plenty of fuel for the imagination.

                While there are things I really enjoy about Russia, I appreciate and miss home. The contrasts can be pretty startling.  I often have the chorus from America the Beautiful running through my head. When I consider that a lot of the homes here do not have running water and people grow a garden out of necessity instead of as a hobby, I feel really fortunate to have been born in America. That might be pretty cheesy, but it doesn’t make it any less true. I miss infrastructure and emergency services. I miss abundance and ease. I miss Swiffer products and Clorox wipes. I miss taking for granted toilet paper in public restrooms.

                All these complaints are small and not really significant, and I wouldn’t trade this adventure for  anything. But, and I am really serious here, I am glad that when we are done here I get to go home to amber waves of grain and purple mountains majesties above the fruited plain.

                

On Pillows and Mayo and Burning the House Down

                Here in Russia a lot of products are different from the states. I was truly surprised by square pillows and wide rectangles of butter. In my head there was no other way for pillows to be but rectangular. Here they are definitely square. They are super comfy and I can actually say I prefer them to the pillows from home. The first time I saw the butter, wide and wrapped in tinfoil, I thought, “I wonder what the butter dishes look like.” Surprisingly enough, they are shaped  to fit the butter.

                They condiments come in squeeze  pouches instead of bottles or jars. I think it is particularly genius, you don’t have to get mayonnaise on your knuckles when trying to get the last bit out. And the mayonnaise is really delicious here. I don’t know what ingredients are different from the mayonnaise in the states, but it is richer and more delicious. Magic. Magic mayonnaise. There are a lot of different types of ketchup for sale, but they do have Heinz, which is what we buy because it is the closest to what we expect to taste when eating ketchup.  We found some Heinz barbeque sauce which is really good and tastes very authentic.

                We haven’t really found a good mustard. The first attempt at finding mustard left me with 12 ounces of ground horseradish. I just assumed it was mustard and without even tasting it used it in the dressing for a pasta salad. Did you know that vinegar can come in different percentages of dilution? Well, I did not. I bought super strong vinegar, mixed it with horseradish and raw garlic, threw in a little olive oil and served it with dinner. It was painfully horrible. Pretty darn inedible, and it was a real pity because I used about ten dollars of salami. I have learned my lesson about tasting the condiments before they go on or in anything.

                One of the best parts of my Russian kitchen is the electric kettle. It is incredibly handy to have boiling water at hand in moments. It is awesome for cooking and cleaning. I don’t know why there aren’t more of them in the states, but I imagine it has to do with being more of a coffee culture than a tea culture. Speaking of coffee, we really haven’t had any really good coffee since we got here. We brought a percolator with us, but that took forever to brew and the results were pretty icky. They do sell coffee makers here, but they don’t sell filters. So, we have been drinking instant. It could be worse. It could definitely be better, but I’m trying not to forget that it could be worse. One problem it has solved is the great coffee debate in the Voth household. I make it too strong, Dave makes it too weak. Now we can customize. Thank you, Russia!

                Our house came with a kettle, but we ended up having to buy one to replace the one that Dave set on fire while trying to burn down the house. I guess he was actually trying to make coffee, but he might as well have been trying to burn down the house. He filled up the kettle and put it on the stove and then sat down to eat breakfast. Soon, the kettle started smoking and he thought,  ”That is weird, it usually doesn’t start to steam up that fast.” There were of course flames,  then he yelled, “Meggan, come quick, there is a fire!” Well, I put the baby down in her crib and ran towards the kitchen and he yelled, “Open the front door!” He ran out and threw the kettle on the driveway. So, we had to buy a new kettle.

                

Oh, the humidity!

It seems rather perverse and obscene that it should be hot in Russia. In my mind it there was a constant snow cover on the ground and never got above 60 degrees. I was very wrong, of course, and so we have a lot of long johns, boots, thick socks and sweaters and only one pair of shorts between the three of us. The shorts we do have belong to Dave and are cammo so are of little use to the rest of us.

We had our first really hot day about a week ago and have been suffering ever since. There are no curtains or blinds in our house so I have hung sheets on the windows as a temporary measure. We were advised to buy fans early as they are considered a seasonal item and when the stores run out they don’t restock.  Luckily, we have three, but I think we would probably be better off with thirty. Ugh.

AJ doesn’t really seem to mind the heat. All I brought for her were long sleeve onsies, so I hacked the sleeves off of a couple of them and now she is crawling around like a little hillbilly redneck Russkie. Although, now that I think of it the heat might be getting to her because her new trick is to sit on her butt and spin three sixties while laughing like a maniac. She likes to sleep with a fleece blanket from home, and even though it is a billion degrees (no hyperbole at all) she can’t really get to sleep without it.

Dave and I are melting. Just melting. We are really fortunate that Dave’s work truck has AC as a lot of the other Americans do not. The heat has made it pretty difficult for us to sleep and the fact that it doesn’t get dark till eleven pm makes it harder still. I have told Dave that we need sleep masks. it would certainly help our sleep deprivation. I am all for it, but I can’t get Dave to agree. I think it would be incredibly adorable  for the two of us to have matching sleep masks. Maybe embroidered with ZZzzzs or closed eyes with long eyelashes. He is so stubborn.  

31 in Russia

                Last Saturday I went shopping with a group of American women in Bryansk to celebrate my birthday and Mother’s day. Bryansk is the equivalent of the state capitol where we live and is a city of about 500,000 people. It is three hours from our farm to the city. Dave dropped me off at one of our nearest neighbors, and then we had a driver take us into the city.

               There is a pretty new mall in Bryansk and it was like shopping heaven for me. The area where we live is pretty remote and devoid of a lot of modern conveniences. I suppose realistically it is only the luxuries that are missing. Necessities are pretty much accounted for, unless you consider a latte a necessity.  I have always loved shopping. Even if I’m not buying anything I love the order and cleanliness of a department store. I love the feeling that somebody gave a lot of thought to what I might like and took it upon themself to try and give it to me.

                The mall here has two stories and walking through the door was like a quick trip back to America. Everything was clean and orderly and available for my convenience. It was awesome. There were four of us from our region and we were waiting on the rest of our group from another region at the food court. I had McDonalds for my birthday lunch. I feel a little guilty living in a foreign country and craving the familiarity of American food, but after 11 weeks I figured I shouldn’t feel too guilty for wanting something familiar. The gals got me an ice cream cake from Baskin Robbins and sang happy birthday. It was a really nice surprise.

                For my birthday, I wanted to get some nice lotion and hand soap, I went to a store called Yves Rocher to get it. They didn’t have testers so the store clerk followed me around and opened up bottles that I pointed to for me to smell. After I picked out a few, I said “Horosho” which means good, ok, I’m done and that is all. I thought we were walking to the cash register, but we actually went to the hair care section where she handed me a bottle of conditioner. Not shampoo, but conditioner. She was obviously trying to meet my needs, “Here you are in a foreign land, and you obviously have not been able to do your hair in a long time. Let me help you. Buy this conditioner.”I bought the conditioner. I must have really looked like I needed some.

                AJ was a sport the whole day. She didn’t take a nap on the way there, so she was a little cranky when we got to the mall and then a scary lady made her cry in the women’s restroom. Her diaper did leak while she was in the carrier, so I spent a good portion of the day with a pee soaked shirt, but apparently an unexpected side effect of mommy hood is not caring too much that you are out in public soaked in pee. Happy Birthday to me, indeed.

                Dave picked me up and drove us home. There he had a cake and a card and a balloon and a present. It was a nice surprise because I had given him a pass this year for my birthday and Mother’s day. The cake was not super delicious, there seems to be a Russian law of desserts: if it looks really decadent and delicious, it isn’t. 

I hate bugs. It is a true source of embarrassment to me because it conflicts with the idea I have of myself as a competent grown up. Russia is resplendent with all manner of creepy crawlies.  When we first  moved into our house I had to clean up a lot of fly carcasses and there were still quite a few live ones flying around. I thought it was weird that there were so many flies around with snow on the ground. Then I started noticing more and more bugs in the house. I was discussing it with one of the other American families, and it turns out they come in through the walls. Yes, the walls.

                This isn’t a horror movie, this is my house. I realize it probably isn’t a big deal, but in my mind’s eye I see flies elbowing there way between the logs , “Yep, almost there, gotta go gross Meggan out.”

                The truly unsettling thing is when I've told other people here about it they seem very nonchalant. Apparently I am the only one completely and totally freaked out by bugs with the ability to make it through walls. Yuck.

                So, as embarrassing as my squeamishness is, to a large extent I am able to hide it. Last week AJ and I were hanging out with another American and her daughter waiting for Dave to get out of a meeting. She had just described to me the bugs in Missouri, completely convincing me that I will never live in Missouri, and Dave came in. I saw something on his back moving around a little. It was a tick. I then proceeded to freak out a little and try and get it off his back with a paper towel. I got it off but couldn’t crush it, and I was doing a little icky dance to accompany my panic.  I am a total weenie.

                A couple days later AJ and I were driving around with Dave checking cows, and Dave saw a calf in a pond. He had to wade in there up to his knees to go get him, and when he finally got him out we noticed he was bleeding on his leg. I said, “I bet it was probably a leech.” We looked around and there on the ground was an undulating blood sucking fiend. It was slimy and slick and gross beyond belief.  Well, of course this presented an excellent opportunity for me to tease Dave that there was probably a legion of leeches inside his boots. He had been in the water for all of 2 minutes after all. They work quick.

                Dave feels about leeches the way I feel about ticks. It was a fun 30 minutes before he got a chance to take his boots off. After his boots and socks were off he walked past me in the kitchen and I looked down at his feet and shrieked. There was nothing there, but he jumped up about a foot and a half. It wasn't the nicest thing I've ever done, but it was funny.  Thankfully, he hasn't gotten back at me by neglecting his spider crushing duties.

                

When I lived abroad...

I have always wanted to live abroad. Mainly so I could say agonizingly snobbish things like, “When I lived abroad we…” or “I never really knew myself until I lived abroad.” That kind of thing. But in this imaginary time spent abroad I was in France of course. Which I why I studied French for five years. I would need to be fluent for when I lived abroad.  Regardless of what anyone could say to the contrary I knew I was going to end up in Paris.

I am currently trying my hand at living in another country. It is not France. That is OK because in my imaginary life in France I didn’t have Dave and AJ with me. Here in Russia I get both the adventure and my two favorite people. I think that imaginary life in France would have been pretty lonely.

My life in Russia is so different from my life in the states.

 My life in Russia is pretty similar to my life in the states.

 I guess wherever you live, ranch life has a lot of similarities. Most of my days look pretty similar to my days at the PX: take care of AJ, cook, clean, and hang out with Dave. But when I walk out my front door the similarities stop. 

I am having a really good time. I have also had a couple rough days.

The realities of being a mommy keep me from staying in touch with my friends and family back home at the rate I would like to. A girls gotta sleep. Please consider this blog my post card to you.

I miss you and I can’t wait to come back and tell you all about how my life was changed whilst I lived abroad.