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.