An Epilogue of Sorts

I’ve been home for just over a month now, and it’s been a bit strange adjusting back to life here. I wanted to wait awhile before writing this last post because I thought writing it just a week after arriving back home wouldn’t be an accurate picture of my life. This will be the last entry in this blog about my time in Russia, and while there are a million things I could write about, I’m going to try and keep it focused on the goals I had before leaving, and how I feel I reached, or missed them. To everyone that has been following me through this journey, thank you. Your love and support helped me more than you know, and more than words could ever express.

            Before taking off for Moscow back in September I had two main goals: first, to find some affirmation that the career path I was working towards was really what I wanted, and second, to find myself, as cliché as I know that sounds. I feel like I succeeded in both, but in ways I had not expected. In regards to first goal, I suppose the complete opposite happened, really. I had wanted to help prevent human and weapons trafficking in Russia, and thought that I would enjoy living in Russia, and working with the Russian government to help stamp out two problems I honestly believe will be some of the largest international concerns of the future. What I found instead was that I couldn’t stand the bureaucratic bullshit that is chocking the Russian system, and that the work wasn’t rewarding for me. This has left me in a place where I’m not even sure how interested I am in pursuing a career related to my degrees. In some ways that realization is extremely liberating, because I feel like I’m no longer forcing myself to swallow the bitter pill of “you should want this!” but on the other hand it leaves me without a clue of what I would like to do professionally. I met people in Moscow who had enough money to do as they pleased, and the more of them I saw, the more I realized that I couldn’t stand trying to become like them. Some people measure their worth in money, but I don’t want my life to become the contents of my wallet.

            It’s so easy for me to say that though. I’ve never really been uncomfortable, I’ve never had to worry where my next meal would come from, and I’ve always know that my parents had my back, so of course money means less to me since I’ve always had as much as I would need to be comfortable. It’s frustrating to deal with these hypocrisies in my personality.  I say that money means so little to me, but I’ve never lived a life without it, so how accurate is that statement, really? I still don’t know.

The second point has been more interesting for me though. When I thought of what it would mean to find myself, I figured that the traits that I had always held in high regard about myself would become strengthened. I had an image of myself, and how that person should grow, and what that grown person would be like. I considered myself to be a basically good person who didn’t want to hurt anyone, only wanted to make the world better, and would always be a rock for those in need. I didn’t find that man in Moscow. Instead I found someone who is capable of hurting others, neglecting those he cares about, and could be selfish and vindictive. I struggled for a long time dealing with that when I was in Moscow. I thought that I was a bad person. I thought that maybe there was something wrong with me, but eventually I came to realize that it doesn’t make me bad, it just makes me human. I saw that I was capable of apathy, bordering on a total disregard for the value of a stranger’s life, anger that was totally out of sync with what I considered to be the core of my personality, and a level of selfishness that damaged personal relationships.

I don’t want to sound like all I found in myself was bad, but I’ve already spent time talking about the strength I found in myself abroad, and I think that the other side of this coin deserves some inspection as well. I by no means think I’m a bad person; I just came to see that I was as capable of harming the world around me as I was of helping it.

There was a morning, about a week before leaving Moscow, when I was looking through photos from before I left, and even some when I first arrived in Russia, and I wanted to see how much I resembled the guy standing in those pictures. I went into the bathroom to inspect my face in the mirror and in that moment felt I was staring at a different man. The principle features were the same, of course, but something else was there too. I still don’t think I can put words to what that something was, but it felt almost like déjà vu in reverse. In those odd moments you know you’ve never stood in that spot, and never seen those images, or heard those sounds before, but it’s so familiar that you swear you have lived that exact same experience somewhere else, maybe just in the back of your mind. In that moment, staring at myself in a mirror in a Moscow apartment, I knew I had seen that face a million times before, I had inspected every line of that face, and felt every cut of my razors blade, but I felt like the eyes staring back at me where totally unknown to me.

For so long I thought that finding yourself was empowering the traits that were strongest in ourselves, and finding ways to work with our weaknesses. I thought it meant having an idea of who you are and flushing it out through trial and error. Maybe for some people that is the case, I don’t know. For me, finding myself was like taking off a mask, and seeing the face underneath for the first time. What I found there was new and strange, but unmistakably me. I felt rather than growing into the person I had always hoped to be, I had chiseled away all the excuses I hid behind, dropped all the crap people tell you should think and want, and found the bust of a man I had never expected to see.

I feel like I can’t go back to that old person anymore though, and now that I’m home I feel like a stranger. I feel I’ve grown out of the skin I used to wear here, and all I want to do is stretch this new personality to its limits, and see how far I can take it before I look in the mirror to find another strange pair of eyes starting back at me. The problem is that life moves so slowly here that I feel I can’t do that. I’m left at a standstill, and instead of being able to focus this new found fire into something incredible, it’s just burning in my gut, slowly torching away my patience and focus.

The main issue I’ve had since getting home is that life feels a bit like a dream right now, but not in the sense of everything is awesome, and I can fly. It’s like time doesn’t work the way it should. It’s that haziness; the sense of uncertainty that time exists at all. Am I walking forward through time, or is it like quicksand, slipping out from under me a grain at a time? Passing so slowly I don’t feel it swallowing me. I miss the madness some days. I miss not being able to think further than what my plans for the night were. Now I feel like all I have is time to think, and it’s driving me mad. I am trying to throw myself into as many new things as possible to keep myself busy, but my brain starts running rampant through “what if’s” at night, and it makes it hard to sleep at times.

            That’s where it ends though. Moscow is done, and although I plan to return, it will be under different terms, and I will be a different person when I face that city again.

In a strange way this epilogue is a prologue too.

            Everything I finished in Moscow is the beginning of something new at home. All the new experiences are fuel for a fire to try something new every day. Earlier today I completed the first item in the list of things I dream of doing, a list I started at one of the most confusing moments of my life to give myself some direction, and I can’t describe how awesome it felt. I feel free to follow my path wherever the curves may turn, and I’m not afraid to step into the unknown.

            I’m living my life by a new mantra now that was born in one of the darker moments of my time in Moscow. I watched a man get knocked out cold, and stomped on by another man, while I sat watching coldly, drinking a beer, and with no intention of helping this stranger. I walked away from that realizing how callous I can be, and when I thought about if that stranger had been a friend, I realized why I didn’t help him: I felt weak. In the moment that I considered helping him I decided against it because his attacker probably would have beat me senseless too. Considering a friend in this same position, and realizing I was too weak, physically and morally, to stand up to this man made me realize I needed to change something drastically. Now I’m working every day to be stronger so that I can always stand up and help those who need assistance in any capacity, not just in a fight.

            I stepped as far out of my comfort zone as I could manage, and I came back a very different person. I’m struggling to fit back into life here as that person, but I think that given time things will work out for the best. I’m not sure what I’m going to do after finishing school, but I know it will be something I’m passionate about, not something I think I should want to do. I didn’t find who I thought I would in Moscow, but I have no doubt that I did find myself.

If you would like to continue following me as i write about my thoughts on life, this is my new blog: http://inthepursuitofawilddream.blogspot.com/

I would like to write in it about once a week, like I did for this blog, but I know I'll just end up doing whatever I feel like doing, so no promises.

To everyone who has helped support me while I was abroad, thank you. I can't tell you how much your love and support helped me, and I will be forever grateful. 

The Fool That Left Home Without Boots

I've been thinking about this post for a long time now, and I think it will probably be the second to last that I post on this blog. I'm planning on adding something like an epilogue, or some final thoughts, after I've had some time back home to collect myself, but this will be the last post from abroad.

There are two things I want to address in this post: the first new word I learned here, and the most valuable position I have acquired in my time abroad.

I'll start with a story first though.

When I arrived here in Moscow, I already had two years of university level Russian classes, and felt that despite the fact that I certainly wasn't fluent, I wouldn't have much trouble getting around with the level of Russian I was arriving with. I was very, very wrong. When I flew into the airport, it was already around 1 in the morning, I had been awake for over 24 hours, and probably would have struggled to function in English, and was failing miserable at trying to find my taxi driver. I ended up paying $10 to a stranger to call my cab driver and figure out where he was, and another $15 to the pre-paid cab driver for "parking fees" since I was late (I later found out these fees were made up). Saying that I could barely communicate with my host, or anyone else in Russian, would be an exaggeration, and I spent most of my time in class staring blankly at my professors hoping something would click eventually, and dreading the nightly dinner conversations with my host that always left me feeling exhausted.

After about of week of this, I finally plucked up enough courage to ask my host about where I could buy some boots, because I thought that buying them here in Russia would save me some room in my suitcase, and also ensure that I got something that could stand up to Russian winter. After spending far more time explaining what I needed than it should have taken my host finally looked at me and used a word I had heard once or twice already.

"Дурак"
(Dy - rak)

I asked her what it meant, but couldn't understand, so I looked it up in the dictionary that I had brought with me, and found that it meant "fool, or idiot."

I did my best not to take that personally, but I would be lying if I said it wasn't a bit of a shock to me. I've come to realize that my host is just honest, and she was absolutely right. Only an idiot would come to Russia without boots. It wasn't just the boots though, I didn't understand so many things when I first got here, and I didn't even realize the sheer scope of the things I had no experience with until I had been thrown headfirst into them. Getting scammed twice in an airport, getting into a yelling match to get a pack of gum, having to work as a terrible translator to help my friend explain why he wasn't interested in marrying a girl we had only met an hour early in a club, really the list could go on forever.

I ended up buying a pair of boots for myself when we were in St Petersburg so I could give back the boots another student had lent me for a few days. They were a well made pair of black leather boots from Germany, and they ran me $200. At the time I was upset that I had to drop most of my budget for the trip on a pair of boots, but that's the price you pay for being unprepared I guess.

These boots have become something very precious to me now though. Something much more than a pair of boots. I wore them almost every day for eight months straight, and I'm not just talking about eight months of normal use. In that eight months I was in 10 countries, I spent Christmas eve in a rock'n'roll bar in Prague, and New Years in the heart of Berlin. I saw the Eiffel Tower, the Duomo, and what remains of the Berlin Wall. I learned to say "Cheers!" in several new languages and saw places I had only seen in books before.

Some steps were harder than others, but every step I took in those boots took me somewhere very special. I've explored the streets of Moscow, and St Petersburg in the dead of night, I've crossed borders, and seen totally new worlds all while wearing these boots. After all this time, and all the work I've put them through, the soles are wearing out, the heels on both feet are practically gone, the leather doesn't shine like it used to, and there are little holes that let in water and get my socks wet, but they have so much life in them.

They took me every step of the way, literally, from a дурак who didn't even bother to bring boots with him to Russia, to who I am now. I certainly still feel like an idiot at times, but in my time abroad I have grown so much. I've had the opportunity to experience things most people only dream of. I've found that I'm strong enough to live in a foreign country, I'm able to talk with both my professors and my host, and I've come to understand a lot of things about myself that I never knew before.

All the things I've seen, all the places I've been, all the people I've met, and all the things I can't put into words, they've put a life into those boots that were not there when I walked out of the shop in them in St Petes. When I bought them, I was mad that I had to spend so much money on a pair of boots. Now I see that the problem wasn't foot ware, it was that I was naive enough to think I didn't need them before I got there. I was a fool, but I've been able to live through that, and learn from the pain and idiocy I subjected myself to.

When I landed in September, I didn't just arrive in Moscow, I arrived about as far outside of my comfort zone as is geographically possible. I've grown in that discomfort. I've woken up in some ways to the dumb things I tend to do, and I've come to embrace the things that are good about me, and that I never gave myself credit for.

Every step of my journey was taken in these boots, and they have come to represent the path I've walked in the last nine months from a kid who had spent the majority of his life in one place, living comfortable, to someone who has had the incredible opportunity to see a good chunk of Europe, and to live in a country that is about as foreign as foreign could have been for him. I walked down the path of discomfort, had an adventure, met people I will never forget, and grew to have a much greater understanding of myself, and how I view the world.

Every step of that journey was taken in these:

They're falling apart, but they only need to get me through one last trip. This Saturday, I'll be walking off the plane in Denver Colorado in these boots. It will be the eleventh country I wear them in, and I will finally be wearing them home.  

Victory Day

This last Thursday was Victory Day (День Победы), one of the largest celebrations in Russia. Every year Russia celebrates the end of The Great Patriotic War on May 9 when Russian soliders raised a Soviet flag above the Reichstag in Berlin. I had heard this was a holiday worth seeing while I was here in Moscow, but I was completely blown away by what an incredible experience this ended up being. To give you some idea of just how big of a deal this is, the government spends over a million USD every year to pay for planes to spray chemicals into clouds that prevents it from raining. They literally manufacture nice weather for this event every year so that the sun always shines on Victory Day. Just in case you don't believe (I won't be offended, I didn't believe at first either) here's a short article: The Moscow News. I'm convinced this can't be good for peoples' health, but no one here seems too concerned.

I started off my morning by watching the hour long military parade from home (it's nearly impossible to get into Red Square to watch in person without actually being a veteran) and enjoying my breakfast. I won't go into too much detail about the parade itself, because I hope you know what a parade looks like, but it was impressive to say the least. Lots of fanfare and cool military tech rolling through, and flying over, the Kremlin.

After getting dressed I ran out the door to meet with a friend and go to Gorky Park and see what the festivities would be like there. The first thing that I was immediately struck by was the massive amounts of people on the streets. I live near the main building of the college's campus, as well as near the university metro station, so it's not surprising for there to be people around where I live, but the sidewalks were packed like I had never seen before. Even thought I'm aware of Moscow being a city of 15 million, I'm always amazed at the sheer number of bodies that can show up in one place here. After making my way upstream in the flow of bicyclists and other people enjoying the awesome/chemically enhanced weather, I met up with Nerea, hopped on a metro, and we made our way to the park.

As we were walking up to the main entrance of the park we actually started to see some of the veterans of the Great Patriotic War that this day was, in large part, meant to celebrate. I was surprised to see Russians coming up to these veterans, shaking their hands, thanking them, and often giving them flowers. I knew that Russians had a great deal of respect for those who fought against the Nazis, but I was not expecting them to break the ice of their normal, indifferent street mode in such large numbers to talk with the men and women (the Soviets allowed women to serve in some combat roles as well, and there were several older women who had chest fulls of medals) who had served. You could almost taste the gratitude, the sense of pride in their nation, floating through the air. This was especially evident when we reached the stairs up to the main gate, and saw an older man standing atop the foundation for a street light, waving a Soviet flag. This guy couldn't have been taller than 4'6", but the rows of medals on his chest were probably only six inches shorter than he was. A man and his young son asked to take a picture with him, and the old man helped pull the boy up as his father lifted himself up next to the veteran for their picture. You could just see on his face the sense of admiration towards this little old man, and that he was thrilled to be able to impart that on his son too.

Once we cleared the security checkpoint and made it into the park we could see that there was activity in every direction. Directly to the right of the entrance there was a group dancing and preforming acrobatics, a little further down the way was a group of people standing around a man with an accordion singing, and everywhere on the grass were big orange bean bags for people to lay out on. We strolled around the park some more and saw several more spontaneous choirs, a military band preforming, a man-made beach in the middle of the park, and ice cream stands every 10 feet or so.

After a break in the shade to enjoy some Granny Smith apples, we strolled back to the entrance to the park. We had already been there for about two hours, but we didn't really have any other plans until later when there was going to be fireworks near the university. I went back to my place, had some dinner, and then went to meet with Eddy, another American, to go watch the fireworks. We had planned on meeting up with other people once we got there, but there were so many people there that there was no hope of meeting up with anyone, and our cellphones weren't working anyway. It seemed that there were so many people there that you couldn't even get a cell signal out into the air.

Eddy hadn't eaten anything all day, so we went to a food cart near where the fireworks were going to be to get hotdogs. The line was long, and in classic Russian fashion, hardly functional. We were worried we might not be able to get to a good spot before the fireworks started, and we were worried for good reason, kinda.

The first firework went off right above our heads like a bomb. There had been no warning, and just about everyone around us ducked for cover. While we were rightly concerned about not getting food before the show started, but we couldn't have been in a better place. Standing in line for a hotdog turned out to be the best seat in the house. I've never been so close to fireworks before. Every time they fired off you could feel the blast hit you in the chest, and again when the fireworks exploded in the air, like drumming on your rib cage. Everywhere around us we could hear shouts of excitement, and people screaming "forward Russia!"

Once the show was over, the crowd cleared out, Eddy got his long sought after hotdog, and we were finally able to get enough cell service to call another friend, Mike, about meeting up for an after party. We went back to Ed's dorm, enjoyed some Johnny Walker, and listen to Yo-Yo Ma to get into the party mode, because we're a classy bunch. We ended up leaving after 1am, so we had to take a cab to the center, but we were able to meet up with Mike, and another friend, Kate, and made our way to a nearby bar called The Old School Pub.

The good vibes that had been going on all day carried over into the bar, and everyone was dancing away, and having a blast. We ended up staying there until after the sun had come up. We took a metro back to the main building, grabbed some breakfast, and then I made my way home.

Victory Day was probably one of the longest days I've had here in Russia, but it was equally as enjoyable. It was awesome to soak up the sun, see people smile, shake the hands of people who had fought in WWII, watch as fireworks exploded to life right above my head, and party the night away with friends until the sun came back up over Moscow.

In other news, I start exams next week, which I will undoubtably crush like last semester, we were unfortunately unable to go to Yaroslavl, and I've been trying to draw and write more to get that creativity going. I can't say I'm much of an artist, but I did draw up what I would like to get for my next tattoo, so that's pretty exciting for me.

Wish me luck on exams! I'll see you all before you know it!

Big Changes

Three weeks from today I will be flying back home to Denver after nine months abroad. 21 days remaining in what has been, without a doubt, the single most incredible experience of my life. I'll save reminiscing for after I've left though, there's still so much left to do, and I don't want to take a moment of my time left for granted.

Things changed pretty drastically for me a few weeks ago when Nastya broke up with me. I have to admit, I was really taken off guard. I guess I knew it would have to happen at some point, but I never saw it going down the way it did.

To Nastya, I only have this to say: Thank you, so very, very much. Without you, this would have been a completely different experience for me. You showed me Moscow in a way only a Russian could, and, more importantly, you showed me parts of myself I hadn't known. You showed me the good sides of myself that I never gave myself enough credit for, and the selfish parts of myself that I let get the better of me at times. I think I've grown immensely through knowing you, and being with you. I know things ended poorly, but I wish you only the best in what I'm sure will be a very exciting, and fulfilling future for you.

Things were pretty rough at first, if I'm honest with myself. I had devoted so much of my time to my relationship that I had neglected other people around me, and I found myself feeling very much alone after the break up. It was like when I first arrived here all over again. I felt like I didn't know anyone, and I was alone in a city that will grind you to dust, if you let it.

Something had changed though.

In the past, when I had felt lonely, I had often fallen into depression, and self-loathing. I have a bad habit of blaming myself for things I have no control over, and thinking myself weak for not being able to change them. Anyone who has had the distinct displeasure of being around me when I'm depressed knows I can be pretty miserable.

This was different. In my moment of loneliness, there was something else inside of me that I hadn't felt before.

Strength.

I would be lying, if I said I hadn't been hurt, and that I didn't feel down for a bit, but despite the fact that I felt alone, it didn't make me feel worthless. Despite the fact that I felt that I was, in part, responsible for how things ended, I felt resolve to improve myself, rather than the need to criticize myself. Rather than sitting alone, stewing in my own dark emotions, I threw myself back into life, head first, and started taking every opportunity that came my way to try something different.

I was surprised by how quickly I bounced back. It seemed everywhere I felt I had neglected a friendship, I found instead a person waiting with open arms to welcome me into their lives, and what they were doing.

The experience now is a lot different being single, but I'm enjoying it a lot more than I thought I would. I've been going out a lot, enjoying the nightlife, and I've met a lot of awesome people just in the past few weeks.

Now we're on a twelve day break from classes, and I've made a list of things I want to get done while I'm still here in Moscow. We're now five days into the break, and I haven't even started the list because I've been busy doing things I never expected to do, which is actually a very nice feeling.

This week I was invited to the Russian equivalent of a BBQ with some friends and had an absolute blast. I think there was about 25 of us altogether, and we went out onto a peninsula in one of the lakes around Moscow, set up a grill, a stereo, and picnic blankets, and had ourselves a great time. The weather was phenomenal, with the sun shining down on us while we listened to someone's iPod play through this huge, 80's style boombox. The meat would get grilled up a few plate fulls at a times, and because there were so many of us, we would only be able to each eat about one chunk of kebab at a time. Normally, I'm not one who enjoys waiting long stretches of time for just a little bit of food, but the time spent waiting was filled with great conversation, laughter, and toasts to the long awaited spring's arrival. It worked out perfectly. We were all talking, and enjoying each other's company when a plate of food would come up, we would all quickly grab our piece, savor it for a moment, and get back to our conversations without missing a beat.

I can't say the day after was quite as fantastic for me though. I spent most of it wrapped around a 2L water bottle I keep in my room, cringing at any noise that got above the volume of a loud whisper, but I did get the chance to watch a few movies I had been wanting to see again. I always forget how much I like Scott Pilgram Vs the World. It may have been filmed in Canada Land, but it's still alright with me. I always seem to find another level to connect with it when I watch, which is something I can only say of a few films. When Scott walks out of what you think will be the final battle with the literal embodiment of his negativity talking to his nega-self about getting brunch, I couldn't help but laugh. None of us are perfect, but it's good to cut ourselves some slack from time to time.

I also was able to go to see The Place Beyond the Pines with my friend Nerea in an actually theater here in Russia, which was super exciting for me. For anyone who hasn't heard about this film, I would definitely recommend it. As Rob so eloquently summed it up for me, "Kids need dads."That's probably the best anyone could summarize the film in three words, but it was a dark, and beautiful story about fathers and sons. I wasn't expecting the direction the film went at all, but I was very pleasantly surprised. As someone who respects no man greater than his father, it resonated with me on a lot of levels.

Some of us are hoping to travel to Yaroslavl next weekend for a few days, after the Victory Day celebrations here in Moscow, so I should have some more interesting stuff to post soon. After that, it's exams, and then I'm headed home to Colorful Colorado, a summer of fun, and my final year of undergrad. Lots of exciting things are coming, so I better get back to them!



And for fun, here are some photos from the park near where I live:

My favorite view in the park

I like the contrast this wall gives to the park. It's such a beautiful place, but it still has this eyesore in the middle of it

Trains, Spy Adventures, and Ocelots!

This last weekend my girlfriend Nastya and I went to Kiev for a quick weekend vacation.  We were only in Kiev for a few days, but I think we were able to see just about everything the city had to offer as far as sightseeing is concerned. I think the most impressive sight we saw was the Rodina Mat (Родина-Мать in Russian), and the war memorial built nearby. Everything there had a sense of grandur, and weight. Walking through the tunnel that housed the war memorial you felt small and inclosed standing next to 10ft tall statues of soliders, and surrounded by 3ft thick cement walls in any direction. I think the memorial did a great job of conveying the the glory and the tremendous pressure that those who fought in the Great Patriotic War probably felt. (Interesting fact: The Great Patriotic War is viewed as a separate conflict from World War II, and took place from June of 1941 to May of 1945)

If any of you reading my blog have questions about our time in Kiev, feel free to ask me, but I'm not going to be writing about the trip as a whole for the main bit of this entry. I started writing about everything in greater detail, but actually started to get a bit bored. The trip was incredible, and I had an excellent time, but it just seems to lose a lot of it's luster when I write about like a school report, listing everything we saw in order.

So I'm going to write about something a little different...
TRAINS!

I had never taken an actual train to travel anywhere before coming to Russia, but now I have had a little bit of experience with them, and I think it's time to give trains some attention.

Inside of a Russian sleeper train

Hang in there for a second with me, I promise it's more interesting than a late night ad trying to get you to buy "to scale" models.

Traveling from Moscow to Kiev by train is an affordable alternative for budget travelers (by which I mean broke-ass college kids) and, if you take the sleeper train, can get you to the heart of Kiev in time for breakfast if you leave the night before. I had taken a sleeper train once before from Moscow to St. Petersburg and found it to be a rather enjoyable experience, albeit an uncomfortable one. I had failed to take into account though that this time we would be crossing an international border, rather than just traveling from one city inside of Russia to another, and what differences that might make in the experience.

When Nastya and I arrived at the Kievskaya train station it was another cold spring day in Moscow, so we were both warmly dressed when we got onto the train at the start of our journey, which would have been great, except, in good ole' Russian fashion, they had the heaters blasting at full strength.

This prompted me to write a little fiction for myself, while I was passing the time. Despite the snow outside, and the fact that everyone was speaking Russian, I started to imagine that I was baking in the heat of the Colombian sun, with my sexy Russian spy accomplice/girlfriend, while we took a train ride to a meeting point with a contact in the Colombian drug cartel. It was just a way to let my mind run free a little bit while we were slowly cooking in the train, but it turned out later that my fantasy might have leaked into reality a bit more than I would have liked for it to.

After being woken up for passport control at the border Nastya and I were sitting on her bunk on the bottom rack while the border guards did some initial inspections. Suddenly, two of the guards come up to where our bunks were and started pulling up the carpet to reveal a small hatch in the floor. They then proceeded to open this hatch and started pulling out large bags that had been taped closed. At this point it was about 2am in the morning, and the only thing my sleep depraved mind could think was "holy crap, this is so awesome! I wonder what's in those bags... what if it's something crazy like drugs? Oh no, what if they think it's mine?!" I admit now that it would have taken quite a stretch for anything like that to stick, but my state of mind was not being helped by the fact that a group of four guards further down the cart had be arguing with some other passengers who were drunk, and had been rather obnoxious throughout the night. One of the guards decided that whatever was in the bag wasn't that important, and put them back, while the four guards down the way started kicking the passengers at the end of the cart off the train.

These guys were drunk, not all together happy about being kicked out at the border, and far from quite about their displeasure. The went down the cart yelling obscenities at the guards, and demanding to see official papers. We could continue to hear the protests of the passengers once they were outside of the train and the passport checks had continued. I was a little worried they might try and pull the same thing  on me in an attempt to get a bribe to stay on the train, and while they did regard my passport with enough suspicion to scan it, and double check all the facts, they left me alone for the most part. By the time all the checks were done our drunken cart-mates had managed to bribe their way back on board and were toasting to their good luck for being able to stay on the train.

Once we reached the second passport control point upon entering the Ukraine the train attendent started trying to extort one of the drunk passengers, and the drunk passenger lost it. I should mention that the train attendent looked a lot like the guy who played Bronson in the movie of the same title, if Bronson had spent less time in prison gyms, and more time killing bears with his hands in the Siberian wilderness.

Rather Large and Very Scary

The passenger tried throwing a few punches but the train attendent got the better of him, putting him in a head lock, and dragging him to the other end of the cart. I don't know what exactly happened, but my guess is the attendent got his money, because they let the guy stay on the train again. There were no celebratory toasts this time though. I imagine they were trying to make as little noise as possible so they didn't attract anyone else looking for a little extra cash. 

The whole time these two shake downs were happening, my mind kept going back to the spy fantasy I had written for myself earlier. Hidden contraband in the floor compartments, corrupt officials, and the whole time I was just playing it cool. If I'm being honest though, Nastya is probably the one thing that kept me out of trouble. She was able to respond much quicker to the guard's questions than I was, and they didn't seem to like me asking them to repeat the questions a couple of times so I could get the full grasp of it. Regardless, I went back to sleep feeling like an undercover badass. 

Our train ride home was thankfully much less eventful, but we did also have two huge cats in the bunk next to us, so maybe they scared any would-be trouble makers into submission. 

I'm convinced they were ocelots. No amount of proof will convince me otherwise

All this is to say: if you're looking for a more exciting way to travel next time you're going on vacation, give trains a try. You might get to have your own ocelot filled spy adventure.

Seriously though, check out the resemblance 

(It's a picture of a cat on the back of a bus ticket that I drew)

What I Learned Playing with LEGOs and 20 New Uses for a Brick

I've been pretty awful about posting since getting back from Europe, I know. I honestly don't even have a reason for it, I've just been feeling lazy lately. Hopefully I'll have some time to write about some of the things I saw during my Eurotrip, but for now, I think I'll stick with news from Moscow.

I've been teaching one of my professor's sons English once a week to help make a little extra money this semester. My professor wants us to do things that are fun so her son actually enjoys learning a second language, rather than looks at it like the rest of his school work, so we do things like play darts, go for walks, and two weeks ago we were playing with his LEGOs. I was a huge fan of LEGOs when I was a kid, and I think you would be hard pressed to find any person around my age who didn't also enjoy building spaceships, or ancient tombs filled with zombies out of those little bricks. God help you if you ever stepped on one, but short of that, they may very well be the greatest toy known to man. You can choose to follow the directions and make what was originally invisioned for the set, you can mash up the sets and make stuff like an AT-AT from Star Wars with a dinosar head, or you can take the "directions are for pussys" route and start making whatever the hell you like out of all the blocks you have at your disposal.

My professor's son was busy building a pretty sweet space ship while I was asking him about the different colors of the blocks. I, on the other hand, had been kinda picking through the blocks and not really making anything. My young pupil took notice to the fact that, while he was already zooming around the room in his new intergalactic ride, I had nothing of my own, and he asked me "Did you forget how to play with LEGOs?" I tried explaining in Russian that I just didn't know what exactly I wanted to make and he said something to the effect of, "It's really easy! Just think of what you want, and then make it!"

Those words really stuck in my head for the rest of the day, and while I was walking home I had to wonder to myself, "how can I have forgotten how to play with LEGOs? It's one of the easiest, most fun things I can remember from when I was a kid." For the next few days I spent a lot of time wondering why nothing had come to mind while I was staring at those blocks sitting on the ground in front of me, and I found an answer:

I've lost my sense of creativity

The thought had occurred to me that same day, while I was walking home from my professor's home, but at the time I had told myself that it didn't really make sense. I have played the saxophone since I was in the 6th grade, and musicians are creative by default, right? The more I thought about it though, the more it made sense. As a musician, I've always loved playing big band charts. I love the feeling you get when a band grooves together, and it all just works, but, to a large extent, that's a technical skill. It requires some sense of feeling to know how the music should flow, but a lot of it comes down to reading the music sitting in front of you, so you're not really creating anything in the process. Improv, however, has always scared me stiff. The prospect of making something musical out of thin air always made me nervous, and I often did my best to shy away from practicing my improv skills. I would always do just enough to get by, rather than really jumping in balls deep to try, fail, try, fail again, and start to actually get better at the process of creating music.

I want to be able to create, have original ideas and make them a reality, and I found the prospect that I might not be a creative person unacceptable in all honesty. I thought more and more about it, and realized that if I was given an unlimited budget, unlimited time, and a Matrix like ability to download any skill I didn't already posses, I wouldn't know what to do with it. I mean sure, I would probably throw a few raging parties, go travel a bunch, use skills other people had spent lifetimes developing to win bets in bars, and eat in all the most expensive restaurants I could find wearing hand-tailored clothes, but that's really just the fantasies of a 20 something college student. If it really came down to it, and I had the resources to do anything I wanted to do with my life, I wouldn't know what I would want to do.

So I started a list.

"The list of things I would do in my life if time, money, and skill were not a factor" currently includes 52 different goals ranging from "fly a jet pack" to "become a published author," and I'm trying to add more as often as possible. When I get up in the morning, I try to imagine what baby steps I'm going to take that day to reach one of those goals, whether it's "go to class" (Learn to speak Russian fluently) or "do push ups" (Bench over 100% of my body weight), or anything else, and I think that it has been a pretty healthy exercise thus far, and has helped me open my own eyes to the kinds of things I want in life, and what I need to do to achieve those goals.

I reached out to one of my former employers, friends, and creative minds in Colorado, Kelly, to ask for her help in regaining that child-like creative power, and both she and her husband Peter have been very helpful. While talking with Peter I was able to find a reason beyond "because I wanna!" to try and rekindle my creative spark, and that's for becoming a better worker.

As we were talking about the importance of creativity in the workplace I thought of myself sitting in a room during an interview and hearing one of those stock questions, "What is your greatest weakness?"Not to seem like I think I'm the greatest guy on earth (although, I am pretty cool), but I've never had a good answer to this question. I'm punctual, smart, good under pressure, I work well alone and in groups, and I can solve problems creatively. I've come to realize something though, being a creative problem solver, and being a creative person are not the same thing. When I have been given a goal, an end point, I can find all sorts of ways to reach that point, and I'm pretty good at leading groups to reach goals too, but I struggle when I try to decide what that end point should be myself, and that's where being a creative problem solver and a creative person differ. When someone says to me, "Tyler, you're in charge of five people, here's a kitchen full of everything you could need to cook a meal, now go cook me a steak and potato dinner, with steamed asparagus, and a cheesecake for dessert." I will find out which of those people grills a steak so tasty even PETA employees want them to barbecue at their company picnics, which one loves grilled vegetables more than their children, who got flunked out of baking college (is that a thing?) because the teachers were threatened by how heavenly their cheesecake taste, and I'll get those people making the dishes they need to make. No problem. If someone were to put me in that same situation, but tell me to cook whatever I felt like, my response would probably be, "Well I hope you like grilled cheese and Top Ramen then."

I'm over simplifying of course, but I hope the point is clear. When someone gives me a goal, a direction to go, I have no issues getting there, but if I'm left to myself to decide what that goal should be I'm usually at a bit of a loss.

So why is a creative worker important? Well the best way to solve old problems is with new thinking, and with the speed at which things change these days, especially with technology, I think the guy who can see which direction to go next is probably going to be one of the most valuable assets any company has available. Also, I don't want to work for other people the rest of my life, so I need to figure out how to set objectives and goals for myself too.

The really wonderful thing about this problem though, is that it is totally solvable. I'm convinced that creativity is a skill we all posses, we just need to develop it so that we can use it effectively. To that end, I've been trying to do creativity exercises, like "think of 20 new uses for a brick," which Peter told me about.

So here they are:

1. Hammer
2. Weapon
3. Plate (I know, not ideal, but still possible)
4. Super cool night stand
5. Primitive lock-pick
6. Makeshift weight for working out
7. Counter weight for a pulley system
8. Ruler
9. A little flower pot (I don't know if you guys have ever seen this, but some bricks have silver dollar sized holes in them)
10. Clap two of them together as a signal (The British are coming!)
11. Strap a couple of them on your feet to walk over hot surfaces (I know that if you walked on them for too long the bricks would get hot and cook your feet, but for the short-term, I think it could work)
12. Stop-blocks for a car or trailer
13. You could use different colored bricks to make a wall with a built in mural
14. Super effective spider crusher
15. The Pez in a heavy-duty Pez dispenser
16. Janga, hard mode
17. A place to leave a message (You know, write something nice to the future occupant of your current home, or take the express route and throw it through a window)
18. A somewhat uncomfortable stool
19. Door stop
20. Budget version of a drummer's practice pad

It took me 12 minutes and 38 seconds to come up with that list, and while I admit it's not the best, I'm still pretty proud of it.

Feel free to throw your own "20 new uses for a brick" list into the comments here, or on facebook, or just do it in your head, but at least give it a try. You might be surprised with what you come up with.

Гулять

Before I get into the real meat of this entry, a real quick Russian lesson for those who don't know anything about the language. I promise it won't hurt. For the most part.

The title of this entry "Гулять" (pronounced goo-LYAHT') is a Russian verb. You can tell it's a verb because it ends in "ть." You can also tell it's the infinitive form of the verb for the same reason. So why am I telling you this? Well, mostly just so you can feel like you walked away learning something today. You're welcome.

Гулять literally translates to "to walk, stroll," but the reason I want to spend some time talking about this verb is for its second meaning, "to make merry, live it up." This is a bit of a cultural phenomena here in Russia that I've really come to love and I thought it might be nice to share with you all back home. This isn't high level vocab or anything, I'm sure most first and second year students learning Russian could tell you what it means, but I didn't really understand it until I had a chance to experience it for myself. When I go out on the weekends my host Galina always tells me to "enjoy my stroll," but it's more than just walking around. When Galina says this to me what she's saying is something more like "enjoy your time," or "have a good time." It's not entirely about taking a walk, but, at least from what I've experienced, more about enjoying life.

You might say to me "well no duh Tyler, that's what the second meaning you wrote early says, quit wasting my time" in which case I will call you up over Skype and slowly shake my head at you in disappointment, and you don't want that.  There's a few connections that need to be made here that might be hard to see if you've never had the chance to experience this. First of which is that there is an extremely strong connection between walking around your environment and having a good time. You can go for a walk around the streets in the center of Moscow, or one of the many parks that are scattered all over the place, it's not important, but Russians love to be out and about, despite how cold it can get. The second is that you don't have a destination. There is no point A or point B. You might define the area you're in if you're going to talk about where you're strolling, like "I'm in this or that park," but it's not about going some place, it's about wondering.

Back home if I was going out I had a destination in mind. I knew where point A and point B were and the goal was usually to get from one to the other as quickly as possible. Point A might have been home and point B was wherever I was meeting friends, the space between them was... well, just space honestly. Nothing special. Here the whole point is that the fun happens when there is no destination. There's no goal, just exploring and have a good time.

Let me give you an example:
I meet with my friend Sasha about once a week and our meeting usually go about the same every time. First, we'll sit down in a cafe or bar, order a beer, talk about life, philosophy, news, whatever, pay the check, and then go for a stroll. Some of the most interesting things I've learned here have been while we're just wondering around. Topics come up that you would never think of during normal conversation, like issues with the infrastructure of the new parks in downtown Moscow, or why there are still bulky, outdated phone booths that no one uses still littering the side walks of Moscow.

If you wanted to take the phrase "stop and smell the roses" and put it into one verb, it would be Гулять. For me personally this is one of the things I struggle with the most. I always feel like I need to be going somewhere, doing something specific, but this is a completely new way to consider how to enjoy yourself. It's healthy, it's relaxing, and it encourages you to learn the environment. You have to stop thinking in terms of "here and there" and start thinking in terms of "this and now." It's not about where you are going, or who you're going to meet with. It's about where you are, and who you're with right now. Maybe it's difficult to understand by just reading it, but whenever you have some down time grab anyone you know who's nearby (or go by yourself, it's a great time to do some self reflecting) and just go wonder around. Don't set a goal or a time limit, just see where you're feet take you. Go down a street you've never walked down, maybe you'll find a new cafe, maybe you'll meet someone new. Who knows, maybe you'll learn something about yourself or your environment you didn't already know.

We live in a beautiful world full of things we don't know yet, too often we forget that.

Гулять - "To stop and smell the roses. To learn something new. To live here and now."

Someone decided the normal traffic arrow was boring

Nothing takes that pesky "rape-y" vibe away like an Avatar themed paint job.

Speaking of interesting paint jobs...

Yeah, that's a Porsche with a Boondocks paint job.