Planes, trains, and autmobiles (and a bus or two)

My husband and I have discovered that though we like to travel, we don't always do it well when we're together. We each have our own system of doing things. Mine, clearly the superior way, is to organize everything in a folder, arrive at least hours ahead of time and saunter calmly through all the security checkpoints. His is, well, a little less stringent. That being said, when we decided how and when to arrive in the US, we agreed that I would travel with the children and he would travel with the cat. Our Russian cat is very beautiful, but it's not her beauty that has secured her position with this family. It's the fact that she can pee on the toilet. Enough said.

Obtaining the documents necessary for the cat to travel was slightly more involved than we were first aware. The Russian veterinarian came to our house to give the updated shots and sign the cat's passport. The shots were 2200 rubles ($66) and the document was an additional 2200 rubles. A small price to pay for no kitty litter.

The kids and I left Moscow on December 22. Our flight left in the afternoon and the morning was torturous as we said several goodbyes to our dear friends and neighbors. They took these photos of our departure, but my friend was sobbing her eyes out as we pulled away. I had no idea it would be so sad to leave.

Our flights were pretty smooth and we even got upgraded to comfort seating on our 10.5 hour flight. We had a two hour delay in Chicago and our flight slid on the runway in Grand Rapids due to icy conditions. Here's Number Two's solution to the delay.



After so many hours of travel, I went a little nuts when the cabbie told me our luggage wouldn't fit into one car and that I needed to hire a second. I said, not so politely, "I'll load it myself!" and I did. The kids told me later I was slightly frightening in that moment. The cabbie didn't charge me for baggage.

My husband arrived on Christmas Eve, on time. That alone was a Christmas miracle! The next day, this is what we saw out of our windows.

Surprise! We moved.

Living overseas has given me a myriad of diverse opportunities and experiences. As a friend says, the only downside is the transient lifestyle. It's exciting to be the one moving on but it's challenging for those who aren't leaving yet or those who will never leave. I've been there before and have even called myself a fifth-year senior. But our turn finally came. That's right. We have left Russia. I hate the long, drawn-out goodbyes, the farewell luncheons, dinners, and get-togethers. Like a sticky band-aid, I would rather rip the thing right off and be done with it. I'll feel the sting later and be glad it's over.

We got the job offer on Dec 3. The kids and I flew out on Dec 22. In that amount of time I had to pack out the house, say goodbyes, schedule sleepovers, and prepare our place in Washington D.C.

In addition, Christmas had to come early at our house so everything could be packed up, so it was hustle, bustle, holiday cheer, and put-it-back-in-the-box.

The best part about this situation is that our family back home (Michigan) didn't have any idea we were leaving. We decided to take a week of vacation and surprise everyone at Christmas!

On Christmas day, we told my husband's family that we would Skype them at 11am. We showed up at their back door instead. Next we surprised my husband's siblings, then mine. Along the way, it was really fun to surprise people with texts, phone calls, and face to face.

The best part of the whole visit was that we got to welcome a new nephew, born the day after Christmas. We took as much time as possible to stop in and rock him.

SO we are in our apartment in Arlington now and we just got internet. This blog is just a starter, but I have so much more to tell you about. Please be patient and there will be other fun stories.

Just us

Our atmosphere is always changing; new people and job shifts. Though we've lived in Moscow for three plus years, we have lived in the city for only 15 months. We have friends from our old place, our new place, and friends we just discovered somewhere else. I've always been happy to have a small social network, but it seems to grow every month. With each new arrival, I tend to tell myself, "They can find somebody else. They don't need me and I don't need them. I'm good. One of us will just end up leaving anyway." During this time I tend to reiterate the strong connection I already have within my small circle.

But somewhere along the way, too many great people moved in. As a strong advocate of "just us", I have greatly compromised my stance to pursue this variance of wonderful people. There's the guy who rides bikes with my husband. The ladies with whom I study the Bible. There are friends who play our games from home, and friends who appreciate my baking skills. There are parents of my kids' friends, missionary friends, and home-school friends. Not one of them the same. Not one of them superfluous.

I am still an introvert. I get my energy from being alone, but when it's time to be with friends, I'm having a harder time choosing these days. For example, today is Thanksgiving. We always host our missionary friends on the Saturday after, but this year we celebrated with an intimate group today as well. Then we're celebrating with a huge group of Russian friends another week. I have always said Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday so why not celebrate it three times over? It just gives me opportunity to be three times as thankful.

Some of you reading this, I haven't seen face-to-face in years, but you are my friends too. I've heard that one of the most challenging parts of reverse culture shock (moving back to your passport country) is feeling alone and isolated. I need you all. Near, far, new, old. I'm going to need you to make me laugh, reminisce about the old days, and remind me of the adventures on the horizon. In that moment, in your living room or mine, on the phone or skype, I will make every attempt to make you feel special. Like it's just us. Like it's always been.

5 Things I love about Russia

Please know, this idea is stolen from a fellow blogger, but I figured my favorite things are not the same as their favorite things so it can be a completely original text. Let's just dive right in.

Thing 1. The government can put one recycling bin in one park and tell the media they are now recycling savvy. This is an amazing concept. Today I will do one sit up and tell all my friends and neighbors that I exercise. Boom!

Thing 2. There is no first class on the metro or the bus. I've learned how to shove with the best of them, but at the end of the day, the bum who smells like urine or the CEO who smells like body odor and cologne may get the seat. Having a pregnant belly or an infant may also come in handy for star treatment. But for most people, it's an equalizer. We all paid the same rate, we all have the same opportunity to ride like sardines.

Thing 3. No price is final. In any market or kiosk, the price is a suggestion. I can haggle for my produce, scarves, or trinkets by simply walking away uninterested. This action is usually followed by, "Lady! What do you want to pay?" Now that's more like it.

In the reverse aspect, the prices posted in the supermarket already have the tax included so if it's 100 rubles, the cashier will require exactly 100 rubles from me. That makes things a little easier.

Thing 4. Crosswalks and underground walkways. In most places the pedestrian does have the right-of-way if you keep an eye out. For children, they nearly always stop ahead of the dashed lines. I can walk somewhere and never stop moving if I zig-zag between alleys and parking lots as well.

Thing 5. Dairy products. I know that when I leave Russia, I will be pining for some 42% sour cream. Thinking about sour cream made me lose my focus. I think I'm going to go eat a scoop of sour cream.

Go Tigers!

When I was a kid, growing up in Northern California, my Grandma would send us Detroit Tigers paraphernalia to remind us of home. At the time, I had never lived in Michigan. The Detroit Tigers meant nothing to me. My brothers would wear ball caps with the classic "D" on them, and we always rooted for this team (even though we didn't have a television or listen to the games on the radio).

When I was in third grade we finally moved to the Great Lakes State, back to my mom's stomping ground. Every summer, my parents would load us all up in the family Suburban and take us to a Tigers Game. Keep in mind that the Tigers have been pretty terrible through most of my life, (up until last year when they made it to the World Series and got swept 4-nothing, which in my book is still pretty disgraceful). We tell our friends from all over the US that we are Tigers fans even when it's unpopular. That always gets a laugh.

I bring this up because recently I was doing the kids' laundry. This may sound ordinary, but it's not. At my house when you turn eight years old, Happy Birthday---you get to do your own laundry. Sometimes for one reason or another we get behind and I play catch up on a low activity day. As I neatly folded and piled up the never-ending clothes, I realized that each pile had a Detroit Tigers t-shirt on it. How or when I acquired these, I am unsure. But I know that I am slowly tattooing the image of home on each of my kids' hearts. My littlest one moved here when she was three. Now she's almost seven. More of her childhood memories have been made in Moscow than in West Michigan. As we swam in the Mediterranean Sea this week, my older ones reminisced about jumping the waves in Muskegon.

We have a friend here who is from our hometown. She can play Euchre, talk about apple farmers, and knows all the little places only we would know. When my husband wears his ball cap from his high-school team, she smiles. This week she got a care package from a friend who sent her a t-shirt with an outline of Michigan and the simple word "home". For some reason, the image was painfully acute and I nearly cried right there in the hallway. I suppose because it's the Fall and I know there is no more beautiful place in the whole world than Michigan. Honestly, there's nowhere I'd rather be from. Even though I may not end up there, and the likelihood of living there again is pretty slim, it's a special place. My kids often remind me that if I hadn't moved there, I wouldn't have met my husband and they wouldn't exist.

It makes me wonder what token of pride I will take from Moscow. Maybe I will insist that we eat beet and fish salad on New Years. Or maybe I will drive on the shoulder of the road or ride a city bus just for old times' sake. Maybe I will always crowd people in line at McDonalds. Either way, I will always cheer for the Tigers.

Recalculating

It's imperative that I write today. As the wonder of Moscow, and Russia in general, has worn off, my updates have been fewer and further between. Things that impressed me at first just don't seem that spectacular anymore. I always get frowns from cashiers when I don't have the proper change. I always get in trouble with babushkas who think my kids aren't dressed heavily enough. I am used to being pushed around, smelling urine on the train, and carrying several pounds of groceries each week.

We relinquished our car back in August, but on many occasions, my husband would ignore the GPS and tell her he didn't want to go that way. Her official reply was, "recalculating...recalculating." I decided that having a GPS was worthless when the driver had in mind a better route. Which brings me to my newest topic.

We thought we were moving to Virginia. We thought it would be soon. I felt like I could see the flag at the end and hear the GPS happily announcing, "Arriving at destination!" But instead all I can think is that we are recalculating. I'm not prone to lying so I'll tell you outright that I am sad, a little depressed, and deeply disappointed. I am touched by the reaction of my friends here in Moscow who are secretly happy we're staying longer, but empathizing with our frustration. The only thing running through my mind is a fourth winter in Russia.

It doesn't help that we just returned from a trip to the Mediterranean where the sun, beach, and beer were the to-do list each day. In Moscow there isn't any sun from now until February (and only when it's painfully cold) and we didn't have an adequate summer. I do have some fun things coming up like the Marine Ball, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. After that, it looks bleak. Hopefully I'll be surprised by some bends in the road and rediscover the charm of Moscow. Until then, I'll keep driving until the map is back up on the screen.

It looks familiar...

Metro tour; complete! Today the rain made going anywhere fun nearly impossible so we popped 60, one ruble coins into the ticket machine and had an afternoon out. This caused a revelation. If you travel far enough on any one metro line, especially on the less traveled ones outside of the city center, you will start to see duplicates. For example, at the Northwest corner of the city, there is a station almost identical to the one at the Southeast corner. I'm sure most Muscovites don't go outside of their vicinity very often as it's really quite unnecessary. We are, however, shameless foreigners who saw fit to explore the extremities of the outer rim where no man has gone before. Well, nobody we know anyway.

I'm still unsure what I have gained from the experience of seeing and photographing all 180something stations, but the novelty and pride of saying it to newcomers is certainly worth impressed looks. Name me a metro station, any station and I'll tell you the color of the line. It's something like "pick a card, any card."

This sparks the thought of another recent revelation. Perhaps people are made in duplicates as well. At various times and locations I have spotted people who look like somebody I know in the US. I've seen my brother, my sister-in-law, classmates from high-school, celebrities (was that Matt Damon on the metro?), and an RN from my doctor's office. Is there somebody who looks like me running around Europe? If so, does she wear her jeans better?

Also food for thought, we Americans are a melting pot of nationalities, but how is it that I see Russians who look so similar to someone who is an ethnic mutt? Please feel free to comment any scientific or psychological explanations you may have. No matter what, I'm sure the other me hasn't seen all the metro stations in Moscow and that gives me a little bit of satisfaction.