dom, sladkee, dom

I love this picture. These are the stairs leading up to my flat. It's really an imposing entryway--wide, clean and with these amazing stained glass windows. Sadly, you can see that one was destroyed. I'm amazed that ONLY one was destroyed. These stairs give you an idea of how grand this building once was. A friend is doing some research for me to find out who used to live here.

This is my re-vamped living room. I slipcovered everything, bought new curtains (PB) and a rug (IKEA), and put up pictures. I think I've managed to banish the brown!

Obviously, it's the kitchen. It opens to the living room with a large arch. On the 'fridge are pictures of my neice and nephew, my friends' children and my "hottie brothers" (so christened by friends in England). Yes, there are more PB slipcovers here. I wasn't a big fan of the slipcover until I lived in a flat full of furniture that I did not choose. These chairs are very 70's--curved frame with a floating, holey, wicker seat. Hence the slipcovers.



d2b's room and wardrobe are still works in progress... PBK quilt, Laura Ashley duvet, cuddly toys from Sainsbury's UK and a bear I bought ages and ages ago, a Noah's Ark poster from my first year teaching (paid for with my own money rather than school funds b/c I knew I'd want to hang it in my child's room someday)...and Hannas sized for ages 2-6. (note to Mom: This does *not* mean that you can start shopping. ;> )

Here is my room. Note its lovely green-with-pine-boughs wallpaper. Ugh!

An attempt to show you how tall my ceilings are. Do you see the step down in front of the fireplace? I think that was the original floor level for all the rooms. (That's the level you enter the flat, too. There's a space to leave your shoes and then you take a step up for the rest of the flat.) Then, when they rennovated this to "Western standard", they put all the wiring, plumbing, etc. in the floors. The door leads to the family bath. What's on the mantle? It's covered by the wrap I wore to Lara's wedding. On it you'll find a tiara Faith made me out of sparkly pipe cleaners, a panda Mary Helen got me (looong ago) and made a fringed dress for and a photo of me and Mads from when she was a little squirt back in NC.

Here is my giant wardrobe collage! It's an original made with paintings and drawings, photographs, greeting cards and treasures. The Miller sibs are here. And, there is original artwork by both the Hoggan girls. My favorite sleepy picture of Emily in Wyoming is up there, too.

The aforementioned family bath. I've done my best to disguise the pumpkin-coloured tiles by adding lots of white--and the striped IKEA curtain. The floors are heated. The washer and dryer are in here, too. It's a nice, large bathroom. (Click to see the pic if photobucket is being cantankerous. The image has been neither moved nor deleted.)

And, the guest room. It's a funny shape, so it's hard to photograph. The walls are orange(!) so I've tried to work with that...not easy for a "winter" like me...

There's a guest bath, too, but it's the same tiles as the family bath, so I won't bother with a pic. (It has a cute, Target, polka-dot shower curtain and three dot IKEA rugs.)

That's all for now! Hope you've enjoyed the tour of my palatial flat. You can see now, perhaps, why I was so happy to stay.
Kate

New Address

Notice how I avoided a clever title to this post. I wanted you to be able to find this post quickly when you have something to mail me. (My birthday isn't too far away...) This is a US address, so you save tons of money on postage.

Me, AASSP
PSC 78, box L
APO, AE 09723

The best news, although it's not news so I'm very sorry for not getting the word out sooner, is that I'm staying in my flat for another year. When the school went to sign for my new flat (which was much smaller and not v. child-friendly), the landlord upped the price by $100 pcm. Deciding that was NOT the sort of person they wanted to be dealing with, they called it off. Hooray! So, I'm still at my flat.



The top four windows on the left are mine. I'll take you on a tour in the next post...

Cheers,
Kate

in the aftermath

I just felt gobsmacked during that last post. This visit was just so unexpected. After sending out some e-mails and trying not to hyperventilate (never had that problem before), I decided to walk to school. (It's only a mile away.) Walking is always a good choice for me. I do some of my best praying on my feet. I knew there were boxes of books and dvds that I'd shipped from England. And, I hoped there would be something else.

I bumbled around trying to find a sock that I kept losing. At the time, this was all-consuming. Finally dressed, I headed out. I didn't do much praying. I was still breathing unsteadily and certainly didn't want to burst into tears as I was crossing Troiksy Most. My heart and my mind were racing. But, I was able to do a little praying. I was able to ask the Holy Spirit to intercede for me and to take every step, every breath as a prayer. I calmed down. I know that I tend toward the dramatic at times (hey--that earned me a decent living, so don't knock it) and was ready for my calmer, more rational, logical self to return. I was also hoping.

My hopes were rewarded and those footstepped prayers answered! At school I found my notarized homestudy!! Remember that my sw didn't send it to be apostilled? She sent it to me? Hooray!! Now I have my homestudy to take with me on Tuesday. I haven't opened it, but I know it's here--and bears an all-important stamp. Confidence in a zip-up file!

On the way back, my mind and heart were still buzzing. I started thinking about a dress I'd bought in England. (I'm such a girl.) It's really lovely. When I spent too much money on it, I was trying to believe that I could wear it to court in March--rationalizing that a thin cotton dress would be perfect in the very warm court building in March...But now, I can wear it Tuesday! And, I've lost another two pounds since I've been back from England so I'm feeling thinner. Poise in a steel-blue dress!

So, confident and poised I'm ready for Tuesday. But if you'd keep praying for me, that would be even better.

Kate

butterflies--the tummy kind

I actually have two rough posts floating around in my head. But you're not getting those today because the butterflies have taken priority.

Remember that my agency rep here was going to ask the committee some questions about how I would fill out my paperwork? I just heard that I have to go before the committee on Tuesday to answer some questions. I'm a little nervous.

I'm hoping I can find out more about what they want to know before I go...

Yes, really big, miracle-grown butterflies dancing around inside me.

I don't suppose anyone has had to see the committee before their dossier was submitted, have they?

Maybe this is good? Maybe by going now I'll have a smoother time later on? Ohhh...me oh my. Surely they won't just tell me "nyet" right now, will they? Can they? Would they? WHY would they?

Pray.

5000 words

I know I promised an amzing post once I got the stripes figured out. But, this will be even better. I'm hoping these pictures of St. Petersburg from last winter will tide you over until the next post.



Here's The Church on Spilled Blood. Isn't this what Russia is supposed to look like?




Looking through a bridge at the Moika canal. The smaller canal you can see leads to the Neva.




This is looking across Palace Square at St. Isaac's Cathedral at sunset in December. I was on my way to church for a 4:00 service, so this is probably around 3:40 in the afternoon. St. Isaac's was the only building left un-camouflaged during the seige of Leningrad during WWII. The Russians rightly surmised that the Germans would need it to navigate by and would not destroy it.




Here is The Hermitage--or part of it, anyway.



This is my favourite bridge, Troitsky Most. I took this picture just before they turned the lights off. I love this one. It's one of my favourites.

These photos (taken by yours truly) are framed and hanging on my living room wall along with another of Trotsky Most.

Enjoy!

photobucket

Let me introduce you to our host, photobucket. Photobucket is a truly generous soul who has agreed to host my images for free. I copy them and hand them over. Then Photobucket lets me put them wheresoever I choose.

Hence the stripes!!

what did i do?

Or what didn't I do? I have stripes on mine. Why does no one else?

Help....HELP! Elle? (If your floors are clean and you've sneaked onto the computer...) Any ideas how I managed to do this?

I promise a FAB post once I get this place spruced up...

kate

Okay, this is very confusing. I just went and clicked on different sites that have links to my blog (thank you all--I'm always so chuffed. I wanted to add a blogroll but am now being met by my templating limitations...) and the stripes are there! Everywhere! So...why am I the only one seeing them?

Maybe this is my own X-file...(really, I need to get through these dvd's so we can move on...)


part III--I have a feeling this all has to do with hosting. Here is the sentence that makes me think that:
"Do not link directly to image files on the Anti-ivy.com servers."
I don't really know HOW, but I'm supposed to host the image. Hmmm...shall I offer it a cuppa?

part IV--Still working on it. Sent Anit-ivy an e-mail asking how to use their lovely stripes. They really are nice... I took the pattern off of the paper (er..didn't mean to, but...) and the plain light grey-blue paper is just as nice. And not so dizzying. BUT, I WANT MY STRIPES!! It's a crusade now.

dizzying

Okay, I know this is visual madness right now. But I'm trying to decide what I like--and figure out how to put it together. I REALLY like the stripe, but I've got a huge monitor and it's a little much here... The ivy is nice, too...and there's a mirror-image of it that could take the place of the stripe and really does look nice...but...I like the stripe.

You would not believe how much exploring and experimenting I've done to get this far. I've got to quit before I go blind. I'll work on it tomorrow...

uncommonly sensible

On Friday, I met with one of the people who work in my adoption agency's St. Petersburg office. I had some questions about the paperwork that I'm required to fill out, notarized, apostille (shows the notary is legit) and then send back to the US. In the US this could be tedious. Here, it's nearly impossible.

The US consulate will notarize items (for $30 each!), but they do not apostille. And, bringing my Russian doctor to the consular notary or vice versa is nearly impossible. Grasping at straws, I asked if I could have my documents notarized by a Russian notary.

I was floored by her response! She said that only made sense and didn't see why it would be a problem. She told me that only my sworn statements needed to be notarized by the Russian notary. She said that she would ask the committee

(Let's pause here and remember that I've been watching lots of X-Files lately. "The Committee" sounded capitalized and ominous--a lot of people in suits sitting around an enormous, dimly & moodily lit table making life-changing decisions...)

about how to handle my medical forms and my local police clearance. The US issued certified copies of my birth certificate and name change decree could be notarized and apostilled in the US. (My agency in the US offered to do this for me if I sent it to them!) She's also checking to see what to do about copies that aren't certified (1040, copy of passport).

I have said time and again, on this blog and to many people who have asked me for personal recommendations of an adoption agency, how happy I am with my choice of agency. And the reasons I always give are that they are a small, Christian agency with a lot of common sense. What more could a girl ask for?

poly-chotomy of the kateish spirit

I had to laugh at myself today. As someone wise once said-or should have said- The ability to laugh at oneself is a true sign of greatness.

I'd been to the consulate to pick up my post. I'd checked my e-mail, made an appointment for tomorrow with part of my agency's "Russian team", cleaned the catbox, ordered from Amazon and eaten dinner in front of an episode of Dateline sent to me by a forum friend. (Did you see this one? About the family who adopted three sets of twins from Russia? Wow.) It was only 8:30 and I had some time to kill before Sergei came (or didn't come) to fix my door at 10:00. What to do; what to do?

I made a cup of tea (really living the summertime life--caffeine after 6 p.m.) and wondered--X-Files or history of England?

That's what made me laugh. What a choice! And I was agonizing over it. Isn't it marvellous that we can have such disparate interests?

I take this for granted. I've always been encouraged to follow my interests and develop my talents (or to discover that my talents lie elsewhere!). I've had lessons in acting, singing, dance, painting, pottery, swimming, skiing, soccer, horseback riding, and a myriad of other things. Perhaps this has made me a dabbler rather than an expert. I prefer to consider myself a Renaissance woman.

This is not common amongst my Russian friends. When we were at a concert not long ago, I told my friend Marina that I thought, perhaps, I should learn to play the cello. She burst out laughing. She told me, "Katya, you are so wonderful. Who else would just say, 'I think I will learn to play the cello.'" You see, in her childhood, you specialized early and pursued that course and no other. The fact that someone over the age of 6--much less thirty years over the age of 6--would start learning the cello was novel to her.

I don't think we can blame the Soviets completely for this one. I'm often met in the US, the UK and all over the world, with expressions of, "Really? You____________?" when people learn that I horseback ride, enjoy watching the Broncos, type, tap, sew, coached undefeated soccer teams or do whatever. It's as if they think the world that they know me in--be it the theatre, the school or the church--is the only world I inhabit.

I, in turn, am surprised when people feel like they can do only ONE thing; that they've only pursued that one thing. To me, that seems like a small world. How can you only do one thing? Or, rather, how can you know that one thing is the one thing that you're best at; that it's the one thing that will make you happiest. (I'm going crazy with the semi-colons today.)

Maybe I just haven't grown up yet. When you ask a classroom of kindergartens who is a good artist, everyone raises their hands. The same response is met when you ask who is a fast runner, a good reader, a great dancer, a lovely singer, or can make the funniest face. By sixth grade, when you ask those questions, you often get a single hand raised for each role. Everyone has found their niche and, in the ways of the pre-teen, is not sure if they should venture out of it. If they leave their niche and someone else takes it, they'll be nicheless. (Thank you, Mr. Baltzer, for all those science classes.)

And you get to hear all this because I can't decide between Mulder & Scully and Lady Jane. (Interestingly, they both have very strong beliefs...hmm...)

Wishing you joy in your dabbling or your niche-ing this weekend. As for me, I think the truth is out there tonight. Though admiting that might cause me to lose my head later...

t.v. or not t.v.

Let's remember that I have had no BBC Prime (my only English channel with actual shows) since April. I've made my friend Inna, who is the school-appointed go-between for me and the landlord, less of my friend because I ask her about it every fortnight. (I've learned that asking once and assuming it's being taken care is not the best way to go about things here. Persistence gets both results and resentment.) I'm not a big tv watcher, but it's hard having NO tv. I've realized that and made peace with that fact. I hope you don't think less of me.

Today I called the landlord myself. (The audacity! The presumption!) He said he told Inna IN JUNE that the only way to get BBC Prime now is to buy the satellite card in England and install it here. Of course, I'm finding this out a week AFTER I RETURNED FROM ENGLAND! Why? WHY?

(I've e-mailed a friend in England who works for the Beeb to see if she can help. Fingers crossed...)

ketchup

When my class has many little projects that need finishing, we dispense with our usual morning journal (analogies, a number pattern, word problems, sentences with spelling and grammar mistakes ) and I draw a big bottle of ketchup on the board. They then know they can spend the morning "catching up". See? Ahh...primary school humor.

Yesterday, one of my students (well, she's in middle school but she was in the play so she's a little bit mine) became the first person to be confirmed in the Anglican Church in St. Petersburg since the Russian revolution. They are unsure if any Anglicans were confirmed prior to the revolution. While I'm not Anglican (I don't like to "read" church) the confirmation service was very special.

Of note to those who've visited this church: They're buying hymnals!! HOORAY!! Yesterday when the bishop was there for confirmation I only knew two of the hymns. That was one more than the rest of the congregation...I find it v. embarrassing.

Beazy is holding her own. She is much better at the injections than I am. She thanks you all for your concern and realizes she is a mere cat. (She is not, however, a meerkat.)

My flat is CLEAN!! Isn't that a great feeling? I mean it's lift-up-the-rugs-and-vacuum-the-underside, scrub-the-floors and wash-all-the-slipcovers-and-throws CLEAN. I love it.

I found a treasure at Heathrow. It's the first historical fiction book my favorite contemporary historian about my favourite and most kindred historical figure. How amazing is that? I couldn't bear to waste this book on the plane ride, so I bought a fluff book for that. Now, I'm diving in and trying to read slowly. Ahhh, the joys of a good book.

Tracy is psychic. I'm not driving yet, but will have a car at the beginning of August. It will have red diplomatic plates!

No other news of note to ketchup re: the adoption, when my satellite will be fixed or where I should leave my rubbish since they've put a lock on my courtyard. Ahh, the joys of ex-pat life!

send in the clowns

I'm back from England!

While I always enjoy my time in the UK, I was ready to come back to Russia. It was hot, expensive, and Medway isn't my favourite part of England. Still, I saw friends, some shows (one great, two good and one bad), and former students. I shopped for me and bought only essentials for the d2b (daughter to be--until something else strikes me). That was the expensive part. But, you'll be proud of me. I was VERY practical and limited my purchases to socks, tights and underwear. Of course, I bought them in sizes ranging from 18 months to 6... (Confession: I also bought books, dvds and two stuffed animals.)

The difference in the queues in the airports said it all. I left behind orderly lines, patient waiters, and efficient systems in Heathrow. After changing planes, I was in a line that didn't move that snaked around without rhyme or reason. The line was to get into the waiting area. The Russians around me were constantly moving up to hear what problems other people were having (mostly visas) and commenting on it to them, the officials, and everyone. (This reminded me of the same spirit that prompted helpful people to paw through my wallet while the-famous-Dawn was here shouting "Ten! Ten!" at various ticket-selling places. Communal spirit.)

At home, I found a sick cat! Beazy had been ill before I left, but things seemed to have cleared up. Not so. (And the catsitter didn't call me in England.) So, we've trekked to the vet twice in the last two days. Beazy weighs about 16 pounds and the vet is about a mile away. The nice vet we saw earlier hasn't been there and no one will tell me when she's back. Instead we saw a not-so-nice vet who cares for the animals in the St. P circus. There is a big poster of him and them in the waiting room. The not-so-nice vet mocked me for bringing in a stool sample (umm...THAT'S the problem), felt her stomach, and then prescribed a course of treatment that includes me INJECTING an antibiotic twice daily and schlepping the cat in for IV treatments at the vet every morning.

I've decided the iv part is ending tomorrow (a week early). The not-so-nice doctor has made the staff not-so-gentle. And, Beazy had a HORRIBLE vet visit in Ohio and is now terrified...and vocal. I checked things online and the iv has two drugs that look like they're for heart problems, something I can't track down, vitamin B12 and two things that look like acidopholus and something "natural". Hmm...

So, tomorrow I will tell them to take out the catheter in her forearm. They will resist. They will think I'm crazy. They will tell me that the doctor said it must continue. And then I will insist. Afterwards, I will trek to a pharmacist and try to convince them to give me the antibiotic in tablet form. If they won't (I don't have a stamp so have no authority) I'll buy novacaine (it gets mixed with her antibiotic) and syringes. I also need alcohol and something else...

This is crazy!! This also convinces me that a d2b with medical issues will be best served in the US. Euromed is better than circus doctors, but every journey here involves a little bit of tightrope walking.

Happy 4th!

I'll admit it. Starting around Easter I've approached holidays, seasonal events, etc. with the attitude of "This is the last.. X ..I'll spend this way. Next year I'll ..ZED."

So, as I sit in my red t-shirt, denim hat and light khaki cropped trousers cooking bbq chicken and watching the X-Files, I can't help but think that this is the last time I'll celebrate the birth of my country, for whom I'm so grateful and so proud, independently.

Happy independence day, everyone!

k8

ps Quote from the X-Files:

"Ninety-nine percent of the people in this world are fools and the rest of us are in grave danger of contagion."

I Should've Had a G8

There are times when St. Petersburg feels very familiar. Last month it was as if I was living on the street where I grew up in Colorado Springs. The city was full of the familiar smells of choke cherry trees and lilac bushes. The air was full of bits of floating cottonwood fluff (it's been variously attributed to birch and poplar trees as well). The weather was mild and the skies were blue. It was very familiar.

Then, there are times when I know I'm living in an unfamiliar land. Often, this strikes me not in climatic differences but in what I see as tremendous inefficiency. It frustrates me no end! I asked for internet access in August and got it in January. My satellite went out in April and I'm still waiting for it to be repaired. Office workers prepare for their month-long holiday by doing little work in the fortnight prior. After all, you'd hate to start something before your holiday. And I won't even begin to detail the ridiculous process involved in exchanging my broken mobile phone.

The worst part for me, as I've mentioned before, is the widespread acceptance of this inefficiency. "That's just how it is here." That's what they expect. If it's taking four months to make a phone call about my satellite, it must be because it's very difficult. Some of it, I think, is a holdover from Soviet times. Life was a game, work was a game. Since personal initiative and efficiency was not going to result in any recognition or personal gain, the object of the Soviet game was to do as little as possible while convincing everyone that what you DID do was as difficult as possible. That way your pay-per-accomplishment went up.

The G8 summit is coming to St. Petersburg in a few weeks. That has led to a flurry of activity--and inactivity. Things along the route the G8 members will take are being spruced up. Ugly new signs of the you-are-here variety have been erected all over the city centre. We're trying to make a good impression.

At the same time, the G8 is a HUGE excuse for not getting things done. And, it's a polically correct one at that. Do you remember in "Bridget Jones, The Edge of Reason" (Safari won't let me underline or italicize on blogger...must download mozilla...) when the roadworkers and hairdressers took off work in respect of the memory of Princess Diana? That's what I feel is going on here. While I know the this is a big deal, I find it difficult to fathom that everyday life has to come to a standstill for the G8 conference.

If only I'd known about this excuse sooner! Perhaps I wouldn't have had to do report cards or register my (now famous) friend Dawn when she came to visit. The sad thing is, I'll be gone for the G8. I'm headed to England to visit friends and former pupils. If only I'd planned better I could've had a G8.

Got Ink?

I've just heard about a group called Maria's Children. The following is from their website and a post from an adoption forum. While I don't have any firsthand experience with this group, I'm impressed by their website and mission statement. I place a high value on the arts as a way to learn many valuable lessons. Take a look at their website and see it for yourselves. The link is at the end. -Kate

"Maria's Children is a Moscow-based organization that provides arts therapy and training for Russian orphans. We offer an atmosphere in which children can recognize their creative potential, developing talents and self-esteem that will serve them in later life. By inviting these children into our homes, teaching them life skills, and exposing them to safe, loving family environments, we hope to improve their chances of successful integration into society." --Maria's Children website

And from an adoption forum: "They have programs in St. Petersburg, Dmitrov and now in Haiti, too, along with the U.S. based fund-raising organization. They raise funds in many ways, including selling items created with the artwork of the children. I bought Christmas cards last year, and they were beautiful.

One way they raise funds is by collecting used ink cartridges, for which they receive money. I know I have a bunch I always forget to bring back to Staples for the cash, and now I'll send them to Maria's Children instead. I thought some of you might want to do the same. It's a great and easy way to support this program - you don't even have to pay for the shipping. Here's the blurb verbatim from their newsletter.

'Gradually our income increases from the recycling project, but we could do so much more. I've estimated if each of you who receive this letter sent in just one box of used cartridges per year, we would realize about $30,000. Here's how to help. Save all your personal empty cartridges, and canvas your friends and family and even your place of business frequently for their empties, as well. Also for all used cell phones, and other small hi-tech stuff. Place a collection box at your church or service club, etc. When you have at least a small box full, call the toll-free number 1-888-628-3639 to request a free UPS mailing label. When you receive the label, put in on the box, put our return address in the space provided (Maria's Children International, 4321 West Highway 13, Savage, MN 55378), and take to your local UPS outlet or have UPS pick it up. There's no charge of any kind. About 3 weeks after you send the box, we get a check. If you'd like acknowledgement from us for your help, send us a copy of the mailing label before you send the box (or fax it to 952-736-8126). I cannot stress enough how much this can mean to us! Get passionate with this, and make a huge difference for the forgotten kids of the world!' "

http://www.mariaschildren.org/

Harasho

There is nothing like a few days in Moscow to make you thankful.

Thanks to a quick lesson from Dawn (more on her visit soon...) I was able to read my train ticket and got myself safely to Moscow. The journey was long, but the car was posh. The in-transit movies ensured a quiet ride. There was plenty of legroom and one of the videos was a Russian version of Winnie-the-Pooh. Sort of. And, then, eight hours later, I arrived.

While there is an energy and an efficiency (don't laugh--only imagine...) in Moscow that St. P's lacks, I was glad to come home. It was HOT in Moscow. It's not my city. The metro is rude.

Instead of our charming tokens and turnstiles, Moscow has scan-cards and gates that slam shut if entered wrongly. When I arrived in Moscow at 10:30 p.m. I was surprised to find it was already getting dark. I was in a hurry to get to the flat I was staying in before it was completely dark and went through the gate too quickly. I backed out and tried again. Same result. And same result again. I was about to just leave and try another gate when the young (mid 20's) man behind me said calmly, "Devochka, devochka." with the inflections Southerners use when calming a child by saying, "Honey. Sweetheart." It just means, "Girl" but I found it very reassuring. AND I made it through the gate.

I made my way to the flat and the next morning went to the Embassy where...

I filed my I600-A and got finger printed!!

(The I600-A is a visa form so that my new daughter can come to the US. The fingerprinting is just one more way to prove I'm a safe and capable parent.)

It was so nice to be at the Embassy and talk to the DHS rep who told me her job and DHS policy was to "facilitate and expedite" adoptions. She was a great help.

It was also nice to be around that American can-do attitude. When I went to pay for my I600-A, the credit card machine was broken. My heart sunk. I thought I'd made the trip to Moscow for nothing. My mind was racing to find a way to get the money for the processing fee in dollars in cash and get back before the Embassy closed.

Then, the above-mentioned rep casually said, "Why don't you just pay for it in St. Pete and send me the receipt? You can just fax it to me." I was amazed!! I've been told so many times lately that things must be done THIS way and then met with a shrug when it proved impossible. Her efforts are appreciated!!

But, even with all this positivity, I was ready to come back to St. P. On the way back on the train I was surrounded by an Italian tour group. It made for a lively traincar! When I finished reading my book, there was still an hour left before we arrived in St. P. I started playing with the four-year-old in front of me. Anastacia was happy enough to play knock-the-giraffe-off-the-seatback for a while without conversing. Then, she started to tell me all sorts of things. While my Russian is improving, I don't speak pre-schooler yet. He grandmother and I tried to explain that I didn't understand, that I spoke another language. (Grandmother at first told her I was Italian and was surprised to find I was American.) This concept of another language was, well, foreign to her.

Anastacia persisted. I found myself murmuring things in English, just as you do with any toddler-babble, that I knew perfectly well how to say in Russian. So, I just switched languages. When she'd pause in her monologue and it was my turn to speak, I'd just say, "PRAHvela?" (Really?) and when she'd reassure me, "Da." I'd reply, " HArasho." (Good.) Then she'd be off again. I'd vary this with other answers (No, really?) and some simple questions when I'd catch a word I knew. When I heard her say "sleep" I asked if she was tired. She assured me she was. Her grandmother was so tickled!! She asked the girl, "Does she understand you?" My little friend replied, "KaNECHna!" (Of course!)

Yesterday was harasho. Pravela? Kanechna!

Fraud!

I have been perpetrating, albeit unknowingly, a fraud.

St. Petersburg does *not* ever have 24 hours of daylight. Never. Even on our longest days last week, the sun set around 11:30 p.m. and rose around 4:30 a.m. Granted, that's a long day. And, when you figure in the added twilight and dawn times that extend the light, it is a long day. It's a very long day. It's a day that's so long that it's difficult to sleep and we're all walking around a little sleep deprived.

But we don't have 24 hours of daylight. Sorry for misleading you. (I feel as cheated as you do, believe me...)

cartography

In an attempt to see if anyone is really reading this, I've added a cluster map. Come back again and see if you're on the map!

Kate

magic

This is primarily for my theatre-friends, but that rest of you are welcome to eavesdrop.

Here in St. Petersburg, I have *one* theatre-friend. My other theatre-friends will understand, perhaps, how important it is to have at least one kindred artistic spirit nearby. Alosha and I talk theatre, swap cd's, sing in the middle of sentences, praise Sondheim, argue for and against various performances and agonize over our general lack of theatre in St. P. Yes, we have ballet, opera, and symphonies, but there is a distinct lack of musical theatre.

There is something in me that CRAVES theatre--musical theatre, Shakespeare, comedies, dramas... I need it. I'm not fully me without it. Alosha is a great playmate who will brave the musical theatre scene in Russia with me. We went to see Cabaret earlier this year. It was a pretty dismal performance, but just being in a THEATRE was great. Besides--we had a great time tearing the show apart. (We did like one of the actors--we're not heartless.)

Alosha is going back to Minsk tomorrow. [Goodbye kindred theatre friend! I'll be on my own again. (Yes, I did sing "On My Own" as I typed that.)] We went to see one last show tonight. It was called "Julia" but was only loosely based on the movie by the same name. While not everyone in the show was good, I had a ball! (Come on theatre friends--you know critiquing the bad parts of a show can be almost as fun as being transported by the good ones. It is fun talk over why it's bad and how you'd do it differently. This wasn't a bad show...it just had some weak spots. Perfect.) I understood the plot --and even explained it to Alosha in parts. (No, I'm not speaking Russian yet. I just speak musical theatre.) One of the actresses in particular, Valentina Panena, was SO good! Her comic timing was amazing. I understood everything she did, laughed at her jokes, and thoroughly enjoyed myself. Alosha has seen her before and said she was just as good then.

After the show, I decided we should go and meet her. I thought I was a perfect intro--he could tell her that his American friend who speaks no Russian understood everything she did and thought she was excellent. Alosha took a little convincing regarding the brilliance of my plan. Approaching an actor, apparently, is just not done. I told him I would be thrilled if someone stopped me after a show and told me that they adored my performance even thought they only spoke Russian. Finally overcoming his reticence, he asked a soundman if we could meet her--using the Amerikanski padrooga angle. The soundman immediately took us backstage--and left us in the middle of a dressing area! Other actors were there removing clothes & make-up...but since they weren't all good and we didn't want to speak to THEM, we felt a little weird. After waiting a few minutes, we decided to wait outside the dressing room.

Our hopes were dashed when a grumpy usher (woman aged 50ish) was there, too. She was not pleased to see us exiting the dressing room. Alosha quickly charmed her (he's good at that) and conveyed our story. She said Valentina wouldn't come out that way (and she obviously wasn't letting us back in) but she'd tell her our story. Alosha was resigned. I, however, felt responsible for us leaving the dressing area and having him miss the chance to talk to her. So, in true kateish fashion, I decided we could find another way.

Alosha refused to ask the cashier or anyone where the stage door was, so I started exploring. He was back to being unconvinced regarding plan brilliance, so I told him he could go home but I was going to find the door. He asked what I'd tell her (strong implication that my lack of Russian would make this impossible). I said I'd tell her "Excellent, excellent. Thank you." He tagged along.

Soon we found the stage door--with a bench outside it! It can't be THAT "not done" if there's a bench.

Valentina came out and Alosha jumped up and greeted her. She was SO nice!! And, I did tell her, "Ehtleechna, Ehtleechna. Spacebo bolshoi." as planned. She gave me her phone number and invited me to see other shows she is in. She's working with three different theatre companies right now. She told Alosha that no one had been able to do that in Soviet times. An actor had to be attached to a theatre company. (This is still the case in Belarus, says Alosha.) Now, she can do whatever project moves her. She said we can get together and she will speak English and I will speak Russian and we will learn together.

I believe in magic. There's a special light between day and twilight that's pink and still and full of magic. There is an energy when a play comes together perfectly and is shared between actors and with the audience that is palpable. There's a simple joy that comes from creating. There's a peace that settles on my classroom when everyone is busy and happy. These are all magic to me; as magical as fairy rings and wishes on stars.

Tonight was filled with magic.

I just felt full of ME as I walked home over the bridge. I was lighter, sparklier, skippier and more...awake, more content, more me. That is magical, too.