This past week has been enjoyable, and filled with activities. We started our weekend with a group breakfast. We invited some of our Russian friends over, and I made a stack of pancakes and fruit syrup for us. In preparation, I woke up early to go find baking powder at the store. Ive always loved mornings and find them to be a rush of excitement and energy. Walking out into the early morning cold though, is a whole new rush in itself. A walk to and from the grocery can easily replace a morning cup of coffee. After I made it back, I discovered I got backing soda rather than powder (hey everythings in Russian. I tried.) So, we did without and it still worked out ok. We said grace together, and it felt like we were one big family. For dinner we made porkchops, potatoes, and mushrooms in a cream sauce, and again it felt like family. There was definitely something comforting about the experience, and I hope we continue to make meals together. I still get a kick out of wandering down to the market, picking out food, and then trying to make it. I feel less like a foreigner with every trip I make to the store on my own.

The next part of our weekend involved trying out the Russian clubs. I think it may be safe to say that that will be my last experience at the clubs. At home, one would normally go out around 11pm and return home at 2:30am. Here, though, there is a slight dilemma with that plan. The metro is closed from 1am- 5:30 am, and our hostel is closed from 1:30 – 6:30 am. When you go out in Moscow, you stay out in Moscow. You are trapped- a slave to the metro system you could say. I made the mistake of wearing high heels. Now, I don’t consider myself to be a sissy, and four or five hours in heels is manageable; nine hours dancing and walking around the city in heels is not. Allow me to be a bit dramatic for a min: It was horrible!!!!!! Ok. It felt good to get that out. After dancing all night and walking around Moscow to kill time, I was ready to cry. I was sure that the next step was going to be it for me, and my feet were going to give out.  I found myself singing show tunes and praise songs in my head to keep from complaining and frowning. Roma (one of my Russian friends) walked beside me and distracted me a little by muttering random facts about each building. Part of me wanted to hug him and thank him, and the impatient part of me wanted to strangle him ;) He really did help take my mind off of it, though, and we eventually made it home. I slept the entire next day, and had trouble walking because my feet were STILL bruised. Needless to say, if we do go again, I may be wearing my vans. : )

The next night, boredom started to set in so we jumped on a metro and explored the city. First, we stopped and dined on sushi in a small alley restaurant, and toasted to the night ahead. Our next stop - Red Square. I didnt know if it would be exciting, since we had already been during the day, but It was well worth the 56 rubles it took to get there. It was beautiful at night! When we entered the court, we were completely surrounded by the flickering of the lights on the massive buildings. In the center, there was a skating ring and people skated and laughed. There joy was contagious. We were all running around, singing, and goofing off. I couldnt believe I was just playing in Russia. We skipped around the court, payed our respects to Lenin's tomb of course, and stopped at St. Bails Cathedral. It seemed to stand even taller at night then it did when the sun was shining down on it. The glow of its lights added to its height, and certainly to its beauty. The colors shining from the grand building seemed to cast out the haze of the city's smog, and for a few minutes we all just stopped to admire its glory. It made me think of something John Piper had said about feeling best when we feel tiny and insignificant. It was true. Standing small, in the presence of something bigger than myself, is humbling and comforting. 

Yesterday, we went on an excursion around the university. I could not have been more impressed. The opportunities offered to the students here is incredible. This university really strives to make international relationships, so that their students may have as many experiences possible for success. Each department seems to be very focused on the individual student and their trade, and provides a lot of equipment for optimum learning. I am really seeing the beauty in international programs, and the benefits of them. The last part of the tour, was to the military department. We each got to "play" with old guns. I felt a little GI Jane in my leather jacket, holding a machine gun. I wont lie, I like it. (though i really had a hard time keeping a straight face.)

just another day in russia

Each new day continues to consist of new excursions; ones, when done at home, would hardly be classified as an adventure. Here, each new trip outside is something exhilarating and new. A few days ago, we laced up our skates and tried our skills (or lack of skills) out on the ice. It was wonderful! We teased each other and tried new tricks, and I somehow managed not to hit the ice…it wasn’t until we were walking to the hostile that I ate snow… figures. Last night a few of us went to a cinema that plays English movies with Russian subtitles. Our movie of choice (and by choice I mean the only option) was “Four Lions”, which I actually found to be a very well written movie about terrorist bombers – its sounds weird, I know.  It uses humor to imply stupidity in suicide bomber’s religion, but also manages to reflect the sadness in these confused beliefs.  It is a little different, but you should check it out if you have the chance.  

I had a washing machine faux pas the other day. I know this seems like a silly thing to blog about, but I need the sympathy in this traumatic event J. It turns out that Russian blue jeans must have a stronger dye in them. My white socks, colored shirts, and a new pair of jeans went into the wash in their respected colors , and they all emerged blue. Blue! I feel like this is a mistake that you see on the movies, but never really happens in real life. It really happens, and im that girl with the dyed blue socks and shirts. At least it wasn’t the stereotypical, “a red sock got into my laundry and now my shirts are pink” situation. At least it is a little outside norm. (totally kidding about needing the sympathy. Im handling the unfortunate even quite well id say ;) ).

Tonight I am warding off the cold and homesickness with some good ole, homemade, chicken and dumplings. I think it may be the perfect solution for a dreary day. The hostel’s kitchen tiles are old, and the lighting is dim and flickering. The stoves seem quite experienced, and it shows in their rusted appearance. By itself, the tiny room is cold and bleak. With the mix of aromas filling the air, though, the tiny Russian kitchen becomes quite inviting and almost comforting. Instead of the hostel’s kitchen, it becomes my kitchen, and I feel at home. I have been in search of some consistency here, and I think I may have found it. Hopefully, preparing dinner will become an expected event.

Among all the inconsistency lately, has been the weather. (yes, I am talking about the weather again.) Yesterday it was very warm and still in the city. The air was thick and breezeless, and the usually snow covered walkways were layered with brown slush.  Today, though, the snow is steadily falling, hitchhiking its way down on gusts of wind. I watch the dizzying movement until the snowflakes finally come to rest somewhere on the ground. As the day goes on, Moscow snuggles deeper and deeper under a white blanket. Each snowflake, unique it in its own design, is tiny and beautiful and known by God.  Where it falls is unknown, but it is sure to contribute to the intricate, wintery surroundings; each flake is part of something bigger.

As I am getting to know the girls here more, I am realizing how unique and beautiful each is.  Like snowflakes, they too are small in the world, beautiful, and known by God. Before we knew where we would land, He did. In all his sovereignty, he placed us here together -  By his grace and good works, we are intricately designed to be part of something bigger.  

my true light

It seems as though reality finally boarded the plane to join me here in Moscow. It wasn’t until today that it finally sunk in that this will be my home for the next four months. This isn’t a  two-week vacation that will be coming to an end right at the point of, “I had a good trip, but now im ready to go home.” This is more or less a string of eight of those vacations. I understand that wherever you are is the real world, but humor me when I say that those two weeks getaways are like an escape from said real world. Today, it was like realizing that Moscow is my “real world” right now; and if I want to keep up the TV show theme, you could say it is like “true life: I live in Moscow”.   Insane.

What I miss more than I considered I would, is the sun. The days are short here, and the sun seems content to show itself only on occasion.  Without it, I am subconsciously aware and affected by the gray of the city. It isn’t a thought that I carry in my head constantly, but is more like a small, unseen weight that pulls on my mood throughout the day. The gray buildings, cars, and dust seem to try to shade my mood to match their color.

I started this blog last night but didnt finish. I went to sleep predicting another gray day to follow, and intending on writing about Moscow’s complete lack of  light. Leave it to the world to make a liar out of me, though, for today it was beautiful and the sun was out! It was as if the clouds heard me, and parted ways just for me. Today was our first day of class, and though it was interesting, I was practically bouncing with excitement to get out (while still maintaining my newfound, cool and collected, “russian” exterior of course).  We learned how to say “it is good weather,” and that was like dangling food in front of a hungry puppy. I had to get outside. As soon as class ended, we headed for the park and I lost my front of disinterest; the American girl in me was unleashed! We giggled and sang, and we had a photo shoot. I threw the snow in the air,  and its cool sting on my face was wonderful. Tomorrow there is little chance of another cloudless sky, but I  will be content.

Though I do miss the frequent occurrence of the sun’s light, it is nothing but a small candle compared to the light and joy to be found in the Lord. The gray shades, of the tiniest dust particles, cannot overcome my heart’s mood when it is set on the Lord, nor can the grayest and tallest of any building. I wouldn’t complain for a second if the sun were to come out day after day, but do I need it to? No, I guess I don’t. My joy is not in our sun – my joy is in the Son.

 "your word is like a lamp for my feet and a light for my path." 

       Psalm 119:105

a little slideshow :)

spengrussench?

I started the day at 4am in a small house in Kenner, Louisiana, and by 7pm I was aboard a plane to Moscow, Russia. I left at dusk in New York, and after seven hours of chasing the sun, I was watching the sunrise over the Norwegian tundra. Thousands of feet below me, I could see nothing but a vast ice land, and the pink shades of the morning were streaked across its snowy canvas. I have never seen scenery more beautiful; it was a painting made possible only by the hand of God. After the calming effect of the view wore off, I became nauseous, nervous, and excited as reality hit…I am actually about to live in Russia for four months…I am not in Louisiana anymore (if i had a dog name Toto with me, I would have told him so).

First thing I noticed: how tall and beautiful most of the Russian women are, with facial expressions that appear to show interest in nothing. They seemed to have perfected the art of being coy yet confident, and it somehow added to their beauty. Me, I don’t know how to not be interested in everything, and so I knew I stuck out like a sore thumb. Shrieking and exclaiming, “I cant believe I'm in Russia! Look at all the snow!” probably didn’t add much to my attempt at blending in either.

What I am finding, though, is that even if they seem cold outwardly, Russian people are very warm and friendly on the inside. When we got to the hostile, we were immediately greeted and taken care of by the Russian students here. We have spent all of our time so far with our Russian friends, and have had a ton of crash course vocabulary lessons. We point and say it in English and they repeat in Russian…and then again in Russian…and then yet again. Today i wrote the alphabet out over and over on the chalk board. (а б в г д...) They giggle at the way I say things but I don’t mind, and I usually laugh along with them. They laugh at how many times I repeat things and how I get frustrated trying to say it with their deep accent. “are you saying a “p” or a “t” sound?” I ask them. If only please and thank you could get you through life, then I would be set. Oh, and I can say “nose” and “goodnight”. (not sure what good those words will do me). Needless to say, learning the language is going to be a challenge. My roommate is from france, so I am also surrounded by and trying to learn some French. For some reason, the little Spanish that I know frequently comes out. I guess I subconsciously group all other languages together as just “foreign”, and my survival instincts tell me to just speak something not English! Perhaps, I’m just crazy. Who knows what language I will end up speaking. Spengrussench? Probably.

The hostel is very basic and homy, and im very comfortable there. At night you can hear the wind ripping through the tops of the buildings, and am grateful for my bedside heater fighting for me. I think, though, that I am managing moderately with the cold, and it really isn’t terrible so far. I’m not suggesting wearing flip flops or anything, but a pair of long johns, jeans, a sweater, jacket, hat, scarf, boots, and gloves should suffice :). There is snow on every surface, and the pathways look like something out of a winter wonderland. Snow covered trees line the roads and it transforms the big industrious city into a quaint and cozy town. Even a big statue of Lenin was covered in snow. I must say, the man is much less intimidating with a snow hat and shawl on.

I know God has led me here, and I know he is good. I cant wait for what tomorrow will bring. Praying for home, always.

with love.

some pictures of the hostel:

    the beds are big boxes that open up with small pads on top

      hallway in the room

       the bathroom. (such tiny bath towels)

                  some friends :)