Dacha (Cottage)

Fourth of July weekend we did dacha. I can’t say we went to dacha because that is like saying I went to the store. We did dacha. Some friends of ours temporarily moved out of their 22 story building to enjoy the Russian summer in the rustic country and invited us to join. We ate shashlik (meat on a stick) the first night with all kinds of Russian salads made mostly of beets, carrots, and mayonnaise. They just can’t get enough of their mayonnaise. We even drank Kvass which tastes like sour, liquid bread. It is, after all, made of yeast.

Then we did banya which is basically an outdoor sauna. You go in until you sweat a bit, exit, and either pour cold water over your head or jump in a lake, and then go back in and do it again. They believe it aids in circulation and general health.
My friend, also a mother-of-four, and I modestly wrapped ourselves in towels as we sweat. Then we sat in the “parlor” and drank water to cool off. It was relaxing and comfortable. The men…well…men are different.

My hubby, our friend, and a neighbor we just met, stripped down to their birthday suits, walked into 240 degree Fahrenheit steam, which was so hot it felt as if the hairs in their noses were burning. After three rounds, they finished off by smacking each other with sticks that makes hell-fire seem cool. Then, finally, cold water over the heads. They got dressed and came out. We are lucky we have friends. Many people have to pay for banya.

My least favorite part of the dacha was the outhouse. It is not a port-a-jon, it is a permanent building specifically used for decades of waste. I don’t think my vocabulary contains words for the general aroma amidst that side of the yard. The kids made a clubhouse right next to it. Needless to say, I’m sure they wouldn’t get any uninvited visitors.

The next day we celebrated July 4th in typical American style with too much food cooked over a grill, cake, and beer. In a gesture of good will among countries, we offered the neighbors some of our American cuisine like burgers, potato salad, and bean dip. They accepted. A few minutes later, the friendly neighbor brought over his version of good will. A CD of the famous Russian musician Vladimir Vysotsky. I’ve posted a link here for you to get a taste. He has a fabulous ability to roll his “Rs”, unlike me.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OBLWDk8q6Tc&feature=related

With our red, white, and blue banners amidst overgrown stinging nettles, we bopped our heads to this Russian masterpiece while naked little Russian boys ran around the neighborhood.

In Short

Yesterday we saw a man at the bus stop in tennis shoes, a baseball cap, and….wait for it….and a knee-length PINK bathrobe. Not sure if his old lady kicked him out in a frenzy or if that was his outfit of choice. We’ve also heard tales of speedos and converse high-tops. Either way, it’s not uncommon for people to be scantily clad here in Moscow. My hubby and I have taken it upon ourselves to spy-cam wherever we go so we can capture some of these delicious examples of extreme lengths. We are usually successful. Sometimes, I have to pose in the picture so we can look inconspicuous.

A few weeks back we walked along Old Arbat street and saw several passers-by in skirts and daisy dukes. I think the lady in the tan skirt stopped In front of the curb because she wasn’t sure exactly how she was going to get up it without exposing her derriere. The lady in the blue toga proved that if you can’t get a skirt, no worries, simply tie a belt around the longest shirt you have and call it good! I have seen thongs riding up 60 year-old ladies backsides and squishy sides peeking out of meshy shirts. I have been told, however, that letting your bra straps hang out is a major faux pas. Who knows why?

The last guy is my favorite. Words are inadequate. That strap wrapped around his back, believe it or not, it’s a fanny pack. It had neon pink on it too. He was a street vendor so maybe he thought when he ripped people off, he could make a quick getaway. Just like the topic, I kept this entry short. Pictures are, after all, enough to prove my point.

Loving and Losing

We’ve been here almost a year.

We’ve made friends.

The time goes so fast overseas that we’ve already said goodbye to friends we made at first. Just this week #1 and #3 found some girls from France whose company they enjoy. They’ve been in Russia for ten years and guess what, this Saturday, they’re leaving----for good!

Is it better to have loved and lost than never loved at all? I’m starting to wonder.

At the same time, we’re contemplating visits home and I dread the thought of reunions that turn into departures. I can see why some ex-pats just keep to their own circles. It’s hard to open up again and love somebody for a brief amount of time. Some of the people here who were strangers at first will be lifelong friends now, but no matter what---eventually one of us will leave.

It’s like a staring contest. Who’s going to blink first?

I could be cranky because I have mild food poisoning and had to cancel afternoon tea today with my friend from Trinidad who is going home for the summer next week. Our compound is like a ghost town. All the corporate ex-pats have gone home. Unless I want to dish out $7K, I’m staying put for now.

One of my friends said it best. “Once you’ve lived abroad,” she said, “it’s like you’re ruined for America.” I get that now. My kids’ friends are from far-off countries like Vietnam, Trinidad, England, France, Singapore, Australia, China, and of course, Russia.

How can they ever go back to a farm community where everybody’s lived in the same house their grandparents built? How can I forget the interesting customs and souvenirs? How will I adjust to not kissing people’s cheeks in greeting? How will you respond when I greet you in Russian? How will we connect? I’m sorry this isn’t funny like usual, but funny isn’t always part of my day. It’s July and everyone is going home

The weather’s fine.
The kids are fine.
But time is passing.