tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16428914142378882332024-02-19T20:05:02.288+07:00Tim and Beth in Moscow!Tim Rhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10253798211455734763noreply@blogger.comBlogger156125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1642891414237888233.post-73665560897642746832012-02-14T23:48:00.001+08:002012-02-16T04:55:38.932+08:00when downsizing is an upgrade<br />
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This is actually happening.<br />
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For the last couple months, Beth and I have been brainstorming and looking for houses in Atlanta that are closer to work. While we have no problem with where we are living now, we have been very interested in finding somewhere closer in town -- just somewhere with more of the perks of living in a city.<br />
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While we were in no rush, we think we may have found the perfect place:<br />
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Of all the houses we looked at, not only was this one the most move-in ready, it was also the cheapest.<br />
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It's been completely remodeled.<br />
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It's got a great backyard (plenty of room for an underground trampoline!).<br />
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It's a mile from work.<br />
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It's just a couple miles from some great farmers markets and tons of International stores and restaurants (a couple Russian places here and there!).
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It's right beside I-85 and I-285.<br />
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It's right by a Marta bus stop, and a couple miles from the Doraville rail station.<br />
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It's perfect. At least for Beth and Liam and I.<br />
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It's definitely smaller than where we're at right now (half the size of our current place). But we couldn't be more excited. We're hoping to get involved in the surrounding international community, and just be more all-around intentional when it comes to where we live and why. We feel like it fits both -- it's close to work, but also close to so much we can really get involved in things in our area.<br />
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And we're closing on it TODAY.<br />
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We're overwhelmed, but excited. I'll keep you posted as to the details and all the exciting changes.<br />
<br />Tim Rhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10253798211455734763noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1642891414237888233.post-81836257246194308552011-08-17T01:08:00.001+08:002011-08-17T01:08:24.096+08:00Our Turn Now<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Beth and I with Nadya, Anya, and Yulya</i></span></div>
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Tomorrow, something very exciting will be happening in the city of Atlanta. Three very good friends from Moscow will be visiting. for a little under a week. In between trips to NYC and LA, they will make their stop here where we will show them around town and make the long drive to Indiana for another good friend's wedding.<br />
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I may have talked about this a little before, but this is something we've been excited about for a while. For many reasons.<br />
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While Beth and I were in Moscow, it would be an understatement to say we were spoiled by all of our friends. One of the reasons we became so comfortable so quickly in such an overwhelming city is because of all the help of our friends. From helping us find places, to helping us with the language, to even helping us get Liam's birth certificate (no easy feat in Moscow, especially if you're language skills are lacking), we were so fortunate to have friends that were there for you whenever you needed.<br />
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Now it's our turn.<br />
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We're so excited to now be able to share our city with some of our best friends. On the weekend we'll head up to the wedding in Indiana, but between then we'll be showing them all that we can in Atlanta.<br />
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<i>Our dear friend Andrea is getting married!</i></div>
Tim Rhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10253798211455734763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1642891414237888233.post-18196865730674906582011-06-09T11:35:00.018+08:002011-06-10T01:01:45.894+08:00A Year Ago TodayIt's hard to believe it's been a year since Liam's birth.<br />
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Months ago Beth posted about her experience, but I decided to also post it here for the occasion. It's long but I hope you enjoy it.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We went in for a check up on Tuesday the 8<sup>th</sup>. The doctor said that there were still no signs that the baby was going to come in to the world on his own and she wanted to start the induction process. She sent us to the first floor to check into labor and delivery. As soon as I got there I was surrounded by a troop of Russian nurses, each with a job. They took my blood pressure, felt my stomach, measured me, weighed me, felt my ankles, asked millions of questions, took my clothes, showered me, and dressed me in a gown and robe. I felt like I was in a whirlwind and didn’t understand anything going on. But finally I was ready and they admitted me to the hospital and took me to my room. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The induction process my doctor wanted to use was a slow process. She started Tuesday evening with a preparatory procedure…I was then supposed to sleep through the night and then they would start medication in the morning. Tim and my mom stayed with me until about 11 that night and then they had to go home.</span></span></blockquote>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I slept like a baby until the nurse woke me up the next morning. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">About nine o’clock Wednesday morning they gave medication to start labor. Tim and my mom arrived five minutes after this and contractions began soon after. By 11 o’clock they were rolling me to the delivery room. Tim had to go downstairs to get scrubbed in and suited up. I was in the delivery room for about 30 minutes waiting for him…getting a little desperate…I was so glad when he finally arrived. I sent him right out to ask the nurse when I could get my epidural. By noon the anesthesiologist was in my room giving me my epidural and I couldn’t wait! He told me, “five minutes and no more pain.” However, fifteen minutes later one of my legs felt a little tingly…but not quite the pain relief I was expecting. I told the nurse and the anesthesiologist came back and upped my dose. My other leg felt a little tingly…but my pain was increasing by a lot! I told the nurse again that I was still feeling pain. The anesthesiologist returned and after chatting with the nurse for a moment…decided to redo my epidural. He pulled the first one out of my back and put a new one in a few vertebras higher. Then he gave me twice the dose. Five minutes later I was feeling nothing…my lips were even numb. I guess due to the fact I couldn’t feel anything I stopped breathing as well as I should, and the baby’s heart rate started dropping. A small army of nurses came into my room and yelled at me to breathe. I had to really focus and breathe…but his heart rate stabilized. This was about 2 o’clock in the afternoon. </span></span></blockquote>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I napped for a while and Tim and I talked. I was thinking that this labor thing wasn’t so bad. We were incredibly surprised when around five o’clock my doctor came in and told us it was time to turn the epidural off. I told her no…and asked why! She told me they must because I had to be able to feel to push. I was confused because I know a lot of women in America who have not felt anything and been perfectly able to push. For about the next two hours…I got the full natural birth experience. I really thought I might die. I also glared at my doctor constantly. Only the fact that I needed her then kept me from telling her exactly how I felt about her. If you have spent any time in Moscow you know that Russians are crazy about their cell phones and answer them whenever they ring. You can always hear stories about teachers answering calls during a lecture, bank tellers in the middle of your transaction, or waiters while you are ordering. This cultural trend is also true for doctors while you are in labor. At least six times during the final part of my labor, my doctor’s phone rang and she would leave the room. One time she told me that the next contraction we would push…however, right as the contraction started she got a call and left. I told Tim I was going to push anyway…but he talked me out of it. Finally at 6:53 William Soren Rhodes was born. They washed him right there and wrapped him up and Tim was able to spend the next hour or so walking with him and talking to him.</span></span></blockquote>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I was not so lucky. The doctor needed to fix me up…so they called the anesthesiologist back. He gave me what he called a super epidural…he said I wouldn’t be able to feel my legs at all or be able to walk for at least 2 hours. However, when the doctor came back in a few minutes later I quickly informed her that I could feel everything and wiggled my toes for her. She promptly took a needle and poked me with it. I yelled and told her that it hurt…she asked if it was pain or pressure. I informed her it felt like she just poked me with a needle. The anesthesiologist came back and gave me something else. An hour later I started coming to. Tim kept talking to me…but I couldn’t really understand or respond to him. I could just look at him and our son. It didn’t matter what I was feeling…seeing them together was pure joy. About 2 hours after Liam was born we were able to go to our room. My mom and our friend Andrea joined us in the room and we ate dinner. I couldn’t stop looking at Liam. He was perfect and it started to sink in that I was his mother. </span></span></blockquote>
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<br />Tim Rhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10253798211455734763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1642891414237888233.post-31367187038212209902011-06-03T02:01:00.003+08:002013-05-01T10:35:25.423+08:00Between a Sacrifice and Vacation<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
Upon telling family, friends, and co-workers about our upcoming work in Moscow, we had mostly two basic responses:</div>
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<i>WOW! What a sacrifice!</i></div>
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<i>Have fun on your vacation!</i></div>
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In reality, of course, it was neither of those things.</div>
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Beth and I could never really think of it as a sacrifice. Because, honestly, we wouldn't have done it if we didn't think we would have enjoyed it. We both fell in love with the city years before, and were elated that we would be living there.</div>
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And, although this goes without saying, life in Moscow certainly wasn't a vacation. Anyone who has been to Moscow for more than a couple weeks will know this. Moscow is definitely more European than most of the rest of the country, and pretty international, but getting around and getting by can be difficult at times.</div>
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You see, if you're on a short term trip to possibly anywhere (meaning you're only there for a week or two), there's a strong likelihood you're going to get the special treatment. Which isn't necessarily a bad thing, just not a good barometer for actually living there. Many times people who host groups in the countries or cities they live in, they tend to go easy on them -- for the most part. They naturally want you to like and enjoy the place. And even if you have difficult work to do, you probably knew what you were getting in to</div>
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I digress. Sorry about that. I'm just trying to say that living anywhere that isn't your home culture is probably going to be pretty hard at times. There will be days where it's a blast and you think it couldn't be better, and there will be days where you collapse in the snow and want to give up (there will probably be more of these days, by the way). Either way, as long as you shake off your American sense of entitlement, have an adventurous attitude, and have the long term in mind, every day will be worth it.</div>
Tim Rhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10253798211455734763noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1642891414237888233.post-69278234857744516202011-05-28T01:40:00.000+08:002011-05-28T01:40:10.397+08:00Last House ChurchSunday, January 22, was our last house church before Beth and I left for the states. It was a night of pancakes (both banana and chocolate chip), fellowship, and sadness for Beth and myself.<br />
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This group of friends were some of the closest people we know while living in Moscow, so this night only made it all the more apparent what we were going to be losing by moving back to the US.<br />
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The evening was a great time to share about the previous 6+ months together, and to also look to the future. To our excitement, several people in the group brought up future meetings and were making plans to meet once we left. It was so great to hear people talking about how they wanted to be involved in the future meetings--those who were ambivalent or uninterested when the group began. There were a few who were downright uncomfortable when we first started. But week after week it was encouraging to see the growth in each person. Our friends felt welcome--safe, even-- to disagree, to share different viewpoints, to pray.<br />
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Although Beth and I had a desire to start a group like this, selfishly we <b>needed</b> something like this, for our well-being. We needed this kind of community to keep us sane and to keep us going. And it's something we miss the most about our time in Moscow.Tim Rhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10253798211455734763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1642891414237888233.post-35766337852487987852011-04-27T11:51:00.000+08:002011-04-27T11:51:40.953+08:00Lots of Love in IstanbulBeth and I <b>loved </b>Istanbul. We were very fortunate to have friends there to not only give us a place to stay, but also take time out of their busy schedule to show us around. We were able to see so much.<br />
<br />
But as much as we loved Istanbul, it didn't even come close to the love Liam was receiving all the time. ALL THE TIME.<br />
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People there love babies. Maybe it was the whole blonde-hair/blue-eyes combination, but he was just adored. I can't even count the times random people would come up to take a picture of him with their cell phones, or ask to hold him, or try to feed him things. In Starbucks, a mother and her teenage daughter played with him, took pictures, video, and held him. And even after all of that, the daughter didn't take her eyes off him until we left the place. I'm not exaggerating. She just stared at him.<br />
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Now this wasn't just women or girls. One time after taking the ferry, Beth felt an odd presence behind her while holding Liam. She turned around to see a young 20-something couple and the guy was holding Liam's hand and smiling. And not that creepy smile or sarcastic smile, but one of those infatuated smiles.</div><br />
It was definitely strange. But as parents who already think our kid is the best thing since sliced bread, we <b>ate it up</b>. As odd as everything was, we never turned anybody down. Frankly, it didn't even seem that odd. Why wouldn't total strangers want to take a picture of our child to have on their phone forever even though they have no clue who this kid is??<br />
<br />
Anyways.<br />
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Like Rome, Florence, St. Petersburg, and other cities we've visited, Istanbul was another on our list of places to see. But just saying that, the way that sounds, like it's just another city to scratch off our notepad, just doesn't honor it the way a place like this should. I know this goes without saying, but each city we've visited carries an immense depth historically and culturally that we couldn't wait to experience. Istanbul is a truly amazing city.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsiVx_k1cO6Eht1h2q-jmqwRzHXSNYTKBM1PQ0h9xuw16pjeOH54VjxE1CxwEq-SPZbaUBoxvCBK0JEiN1JTIq6e4PjMibU0JzVQ7jJYvMCAWvOQRdehoGLkfm2H21qTQ7heW932_eKIA/s1600/IMG_8384.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsiVx_k1cO6Eht1h2q-jmqwRzHXSNYTKBM1PQ0h9xuw16pjeOH54VjxE1CxwEq-SPZbaUBoxvCBK0JEiN1JTIq6e4PjMibU0JzVQ7jJYvMCAWvOQRdehoGLkfm2H21qTQ7heW932_eKIA/s320/IMG_8384.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Tim Rhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10253798211455734763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1642891414237888233.post-43561820321101936492011-04-26T08:26:00.000+08:002011-04-26T08:26:01.425+08:00kcohS erutluC<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Reverse Culture Shock is something you hear about (and almost prepare for) while living overseas. It's the basic idea that the difficulty you had adjusting to a new culture (in our case, Moscow) will be somewhat similar when returning and re-acclimating to your native culture.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Surprisingly, we didn't have as much difficulty as we were worried about. It took less than a day to get used to driving again (we didn't have or drive a car the entire duration of our time in Moscow). In fact, things didn't seem that foreign at all. Most of our reverse culture shock experiences could be summed into one-sentence shouts of exclamation:</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">"This washing machine is HUGE!"</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">"Wait, you can get another drink with the same cup -- FOR FREE??"</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">"There's a whole aisle for cereal at the grocery store?!"</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">"Wait, I can wash my clothes and wear them again in the same day??"</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
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</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I could go on.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
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</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">But there is definitely another side to reverse culture shock. It's this feeling of displacement. Not only have we left this incredible group of friends and colleagues back in Moscow, but we are entering back into life in America as if it were two years ago. People have moved on. It's that tightrope feeling that probably feels the strangest. Not belonging to either world.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I know that sounds pretty pathetic, but I don't mean it that way at all. It's life. It happens. The tension will go away eventually.</div>Tim Rhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10253798211455734763noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1642891414237888233.post-10360896189984604522011-04-23T06:42:00.001+08:002011-04-23T06:42:03.654+08:00Lost in Tra[i]nslation<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">About a year ago, Beth had to return to the states to renew her visa. She was gone about three weeks, and during that time I was pretty busy. But for one of those weeks I was able to make a trip to our friends the Friersons and Wilhelms in Izhevsk.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">You probably remember posts previously about trips to visit them-- it's a lengthy 18-hour train ride from Moscow. And this particular time I was a little nervous. Not only would I be riding alone, but I purchased the cheapest tickets available, the плацкарт (platskart) -- in which the rooms are open and beds are everywhere.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Here's an image as an example:</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaDkMUg2ZnJ9EltXwW5XMI0zhLcXesbO5ZXf-raxxOOPXp79zgoOy7CIVLTdUqTT8maCKPr5b2UJp-fJUuj6ESThUjqtRPKpZVZ6OmzxNExErfTfWk23RbV2ERRw8yJWqConmzTsSz6h8/s1600/2983692457_06d62b0a0a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaDkMUg2ZnJ9EltXwW5XMI0zhLcXesbO5ZXf-raxxOOPXp79zgoOy7CIVLTdUqTT8maCKPr5b2UJp-fJUuj6ESThUjqtRPKpZVZ6OmzxNExErfTfWk23RbV2ERRw8yJWqConmzTsSz6h8/s320/2983692457_06d62b0a0a.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="213" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
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</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I'm not so nervous because of the space issue-- Russia helped me get over my personal bubble a long time ago. I was simply nervous about the language aspect of it and not really having anyone else with me to chat with that I knew.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">At the same time I thought this would be a perfect opportunity to really put my language to the test-- we had been living in Moscow for right at a year. Although my skills were far from where I wanted them to be, I figured this would help give me a better picture as to how I was doing.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I'm sure I've mentioned on previous blogs before, but I have this desire-- maybe it's normal, maybe odd-- whenever I'm in another country (in this case of course, living in Moscow), I want to blend in as much as possible. I don't want to appear foreign or American. I don't want anybody to notice me. I am still not sure why I have this strange aspiration.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Finally the day comes. I arrive at the train station and find my bunk. I find myself in a little compartment with a kind elderly couple and a larger man in his 30s. We all greet each other, prepare our beds and change as needed, and the train takes off. It's the moment of no return.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The first 2 hours seemed to go perfect. I was getting pretty impressed with myself. Like most conversations between complete strangers, everything began small. My strong suit. We talked about where we were going, the train, the weather, and so on. Everything appeared completely normal. I could not believe how well things were going.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Finally the elderly lady asked if she lay down on the bed she and I were sitting on. I graciously moved over and crammed on the other side with the man and younger guy. He begins to talk to me, one on one. We were close, and everything was very deliberate. Slowly but surely I was unable to understand a word here, a phrase there. Finally he asked me something, and I have no idea what he said. At all.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I had finally hit that point. I wasn't looking forward to it, but I knew I had to admit to him my true identity. I told him in Russian "I'm sorry, I didn't understand you. I don't speak Russian very well [and then I always say this even though it's completely and utterly unnecessary except to make me seem better] but I am studying the language in Moscow."</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The man looked at me as if something had finally clicked in his brain.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">He said to me, in Russian and laughing, "It all makes sense now! This whole time I thought you were just stupid!"</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">And those thoughts of self-satisfaction and success were all gone. This entire time I thought I was mastering the Russian language, I just sounded mentally ill to those that actually spoke it.</div>Tim Rhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10253798211455734763noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1642891414237888233.post-84852523869179062712011-03-11T21:15:00.000+07:002011-03-11T21:15:22.005+07:00Liam Around the World<span id="goog_1549068537"></span><span id="goog_1549068538"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQy3r2GuHeCjrcTbhckXqH_VjZAg5NQLq2Qgdna-ldDApx3UJQDUsM53I2Hiw2TfsfUknrqeoVVbp9wo043F6_ic75wgmxKWcat6v8c2dO9cFfYHHhUV9lIqE3UFmBykgV-57tkAOFLH4/s1600/IMAG0141.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQy3r2GuHeCjrcTbhckXqH_VjZAg5NQLq2Qgdna-ldDApx3UJQDUsM53I2Hiw2TfsfUknrqeoVVbp9wo043F6_ic75wgmxKWcat6v8c2dO9cFfYHHhUV9lIqE3UFmBykgV-57tkAOFLH4/s320/IMAG0141.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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A couple days ago, Liam turned 9 months old. It got me thinking about previous months, and it dawned on me that he's been in completely different places for most of his month birthdays.<br />
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Nine months - Snellville, GA<br />
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Eight months - West Palm Shores, Florida<br />
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Seven months - Istanbul, Turkey<br />
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Six months - Florence and Pisa, Italy<br />
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Five months - Izhevsk, Russia<br />
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Four months - Moscow, Russia<br />
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Three months - Moscow, Russia<br />
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Two months - St. Petersburg, Russia<br />
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One month - Moscow, Russia<br />
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I wonder where we'll be in a month!Tim Rhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10253798211455734763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1642891414237888233.post-31951681735282460702011-02-26T22:06:00.000+07:002011-02-26T22:06:55.508+07:00Winter CampRight after our New Year celebration, Beth and I spent the next week out at a Winter Camp hosted by the English Exchange.<br />
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The Winter Camps have a totally different feel from the Summer Camps (temperature and weather aside)-- the pace is much more relaxed, and although it was a few weeks since Christmas had come and gone, the time was spent singing Christmas carols, decorating gingerbread houses, and other festivities as if Christmas was right around the corner.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLwrVMxt1xy3ks4XVFjDrBFeuCZkWADsMpJuMWFILBcFy8bzxeTJTeu2zpSwNfSPFu3r10uLOiyQi-pNjiKfgbR5g3KQgAJOv2xn8E-9nB0L8XZBA3etLPawX_vmGMNwxjGGyZuBZvS2o/s1600/IMG_7654.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLwrVMxt1xy3ks4XVFjDrBFeuCZkWADsMpJuMWFILBcFy8bzxeTJTeu2zpSwNfSPFu3r10uLOiyQi-pNjiKfgbR5g3KQgAJOv2xn8E-9nB0L8XZBA3etLPawX_vmGMNwxjGGyZuBZvS2o/s320/IMG_7654.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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We all played several holiday-themed games.<br />
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Vasya and Zhenya reenacting pouting and crying (from "Santa Claus is Coming to Town). But I think they are also a little disappointed they lost their respective games.<br />
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We decorated gingerbread cookies and houses.<br />
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One very special aspect of this camp was the theme-- it was a going away camp for Beth and Liam and I. One of the evening was spent with each team performing a Christmas themed skit (Home Alone, The Grinch Who Stole Christmas, and a Christmas Carol) but adding in the three of us somehow. The performances were hilarious and moving.<br />
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Here is a video of one of the skits (there's one moment that's my favorite. If you see it you'll know it):<br />
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<iframe frameborder="0" height="360" src="http://vkontakte.ru/video_ext.php?oid=348121&id=159219415&hash=c8ae8e65a09f23fd&hd=2" width="607"></iframe><br />
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Later that evening we all had coffee and our gingerbread cookies together.<br />
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Hook and Vika (or their band name: Hook and Snow White) performed together.<br />
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Life in Moscow was difficult at times. But there were many more times of incredible joy and value. Times where we never want to leave. This week was one of those times.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Tim Rhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10253798211455734763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1642891414237888233.post-23841516527625015242011-02-09T06:07:00.000+07:002011-02-09T06:07:48.733+07:00Back in the States!On January 27th, Beth, Liam, and myself boarded a plane to Atlanta. Our time in Moscow has ended.<br />
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Although our term is complete, but of course we were very bittersweet in leaving the city we've called home for the past two years. At the moment we're searching for jobs, possibly applying for graduate schools, and looking at the possibilities of returning to the capital of Russia.<br />
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Since being back we've been overwhelmed by the welcome of our friends and family. <br />
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While we're back in the states, we do plan to continue posting to this blog (we still have most of January that I haven't written about yet). Stay tuned!Tim Rhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10253798211455734763noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1642891414237888233.post-15992572455117907882011-01-21T05:30:00.001+07:002011-01-21T05:31:43.758+07:0030 Things I'm Going to Miss About Moscow<ol><li>Public transportation</li>
<li>Phones and phone plans (NO CONTRACTS!!).</li>
<li>Being able to buy fruits/vegetables and flowers on our walk home.</li>
<li>Fast and cheap internet.</li>
<li>Being able to feel a sense of community in a city of 15 million people.</li>
<li>Tea - lots and lots of hot tea.</li>
<li>Shashlik - delicious shishkabobs but better.</li>
<li>A lengthy and intensely interesting history.</li>
<li>Unexpected parades and demonstrations.</li>
<li>Dachas - those cottages outside of the city.</li>
<li>The banya - a Russian variation of the sauna. Heat and humidity followed by extreme cold. And repeat</li>
<li>White nights - in the summer the sun doesn't set until around midnight.</li>
<li>Going out to places like Burger King or Starbucks is a special occasion.</li>
<li>Honey is taken very seriously.</li>
<li>Unlimited hot water (save for about two weeks during the summer)</li>
<li>Balcony can double as a freezer for nearly half of the year</li>
<li>Snow. Lots and lots of snow (however, after three months or so this can also turn into a bad thing).</li>
<li> The cultural tradition of taking off your shoes at the door. It just makes so much sense!</li>
<li>Juice boxes are not relegated only to toddlers.</li>
<li>With milk, refrigeration is optional (most of the time at least).</li>
<li>Marshrutkas (this could theoretically be relegated to public transportation, but they're just so cool and convenient-- like min-buses that get there faster and charge you less. It's just a little bit cramped, but a small sacrifice to pay)</li>
<li>Gypsy cabs (again, this could be relegated to public transportation I guess, but there's just something unique about being able to hail down anyone willing to give someone a ride. The whole "never get in a stranger's car" stigma in the states is overrated.)</li>
<li>Getting laughed at for not having a shoehorn every time we have people over. </li>
<li>REALLY celebrating New Years, and the gorgeous and serious recognition of Easter.</li>
<li>Not owning a car. Even though there are occasions where we really want one (Russia just seems like the best country for a road trip), we've saved a ton of money and have actually enjoyed not having one.</li>
<li>Banya scented shower gel.</li>
<li>Feeling like we're in a spy movie.</li>
<li>Being just minutes away from Red Square.</li>
<li>Every day feels like a new adventure.</li>
<li>Our friends. I know this is a somewhat serious note that I'm ending on, but Beth and I are fortunate and beyond grateful for the friendships here in Moscow. I don't know where we'd be without them.</li>
</ol><div><br />
</div>Tim Rhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10253798211455734763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1642891414237888233.post-26674626284605662582011-01-20T14:25:00.000+07:002011-01-20T14:25:32.694+07:0030 Things I'm looking Forward to in the States<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir0K6Pz6aW096RaDtWzR1-Ki7W2OHt879IZJSpN2GHBKnaydoZGaZi_22qDtfbfkudMQuM7eVm8GOoTlGbvivhbj24FNHhjtibowInMAt02Inqn-HxjhRr1d9qJD2pFOTlO1TyVjkpRBm3/s1600/IMG_1884.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir0K6Pz6aW096RaDtWzR1-Ki7W2OHt879IZJSpN2GHBKnaydoZGaZi_22qDtfbfkudMQuM7eVm8GOoTlGbvivhbj24FNHhjtibowInMAt02Inqn-HxjhRr1d9qJD2pFOTlO1TyVjkpRBm3/s320/IMG_1884.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
With our departure being only 1 week away, I was thinking about things we're excited about that we can't really have or get here. It's a totally vain list (sadly mostly food items are on it), but I hope it shows just some of the small differences between Russia and the US. And don't worry-- next up will be 30 things I'm going to miss about Moscow.<br />
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So here it goes-- some things I can't wait to get back to in the US:<br />
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<ol><li>Chick-Fil-A (this one is probably a no-brainer)</li>
<li>Pumpkin Spice Lattes</li>
<li>Free Refills</li>
<li>Pedestrians having the right-of-way </li>
<li>Free condiments at fast food joints</li>
<li>Being able to hold random conversations with people in lines at grocery stores</li>
<li>Cheez-its </li>
<li>Being able to eavesdrop</li>
<li>Mellow Mushroom</li>
<li>Driving</li>
<li>Reese's Pieces </li>
<li>Coupons and bargain shopping</li>
<li>Root Beer</li>
<li>Ginger Ale</li>
<li>Dr. Pepper (Although you can buy this here, it's just much much more expensive and rare)</li>
<li>Peanut Butter (You can also buy this here, but it is also more expensive)</li>
<li>Free plastic bags at grocery stores</li>
<li>Cashiers not getting frustrated if you don't have the correct amount of change</li>
<li>Zaxby's</li>
<li>Being able to smile in public</li>
<li>Thrift stores</li>
<li>Air conditioning</li>
<li>Triscuits</li>
<li>Barbeque sauce (more specifically: Sweet Baby Ray's Barbeque Sauce)</li>
<li>Hulu</li>
<li>Netflix</li>
<li>Ordering things online</li>
<li>Traffic laws (or the relative obedience of them)</li>
<li>Urinating in public is frowned upon</li>
<li>A lengthy Autumn (at least as far as Georgia is concerned)</li>
</ol>Tim Rhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10253798211455734763noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1642891414237888233.post-70703100598556600602011-01-13T01:10:00.000+07:002011-01-13T01:10:58.679+07:00Ringing in the New YearThere is nothing quite like New Years celebrations in Russia. It's probably the biggest holiday here-- it's a good week or so before you finally stop hearing fireworks. It's a blast to be a part of, and a very special time of the year.<br />
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This time around we decided to take it easy and spend time at home with good friends. Andrew and Ira (I'm sure you've seen on this blog before) came over to celebrate with us and brought more food than we could possibly imagine. They prepared a plethora of traditional Russian dishes that are commonly eaten on New Year's Eve. The idea of New Years here is how you celebrate it will reflect the coming year. So naturally we had lots of food and were surrounded by incredible friends.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">Just a small portion of the amazing spread.</div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">Butter, dill, and caviar on white bread.</div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">Hiding behind Liam is Ira.</div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">Liam is a fan of Andrew!</div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">Дед Мороз (Ded Moroz) -- or "Father Frost" greeted us with gifts. He's Russia's Santa Claus.</div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">He gave Liam a toy train.</div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">I received a great sign that on one sign says "break" (or перерыв - pereriv), and the other side says "Boss, I am here" (or шеф, здес я! - Shef, zdyes ya!).</div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDyjARkwfFJYkFhOrGQ_avQ8xvbucq5Bw5r2_9Qkf_CmmgFn9QxeACCYmFSzh23Sc0IddmBlx3WAUxFZab88WzSdDl01d6MbhUggktpsjwfwAS1jbe1WUwwaWooTELaogP3TPPQNZtmWUV/s1600/IMG_7645.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDyjARkwfFJYkFhOrGQ_avQ8xvbucq5Bw5r2_9Qkf_CmmgFn9QxeACCYmFSzh23Sc0IddmBlx3WAUxFZab88WzSdDl01d6MbhUggktpsjwfwAS1jbe1WUwwaWooTELaogP3TPPQNZtmWUV/s320/IMG_7645.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>Tim Rhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10253798211455734763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1642891414237888233.post-24902943299112065862011-01-03T14:40:00.000+07:002011-01-03T14:40:19.176+07:00(Western) Christmas in MoscowChristmas was busy this year for us. It began early in the morning with a Christmas party for our English Kids Club.<br />
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I, naturally, played Santa Claus-- as you can tell by my festive Santa hat in the above picture. For an hour and a half we played games, learned new words, and shared the customs that we practice in the United States.<br />
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In the evening we met with our house church group and celebrated Christmas together with an incredible dinner and fellowship. Sadly, we got probably 4 pictures from this. We just set our camera on a table and left it there.<br />
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The next day we celebrated with the English Exchange and Open World. We decorated ginger bread cookies and made houses, sang Christmas carols, and talked about the gift of giving:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiiBXSAR5oC1CgURAKFvPivN95LxF8vnTTl5PPB2C6efMdbjVNQ6IRbuInWgvL-S160fx0OSw6htwFCmrjbSOF61MVJ-zh8Sg-mDDLoz39dXVnKpZTs-TUPaA19Hr3iY7qR41bM0L4Dbsx/s1600/IMG_7544.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiiBXSAR5oC1CgURAKFvPivN95LxF8vnTTl5PPB2C6efMdbjVNQ6IRbuInWgvL-S160fx0OSw6htwFCmrjbSOF61MVJ-zh8Sg-mDDLoz39dXVnKpZTs-TUPaA19Hr3iY7qR41bM0L4Dbsx/s320/IMG_7544.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFDOC6TM2edSMWGpyqhC-QHzAcgY-QNksgCdqnmevhqcC_5BX5FYqVh6AJeXYyk2qaXNofTqrS4MqWxERbK0OHRON5VDlUf-AKRs4yiXIl4to5wP2JxFnd26piAJ5Tu5TT4bk6LpiuHwCg/s1600/IMG_7549.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFDOC6TM2edSMWGpyqhC-QHzAcgY-QNksgCdqnmevhqcC_5BX5FYqVh6AJeXYyk2qaXNofTqrS4MqWxERbK0OHRON5VDlUf-AKRs4yiXIl4to5wP2JxFnd26piAJ5Tu5TT4bk6LpiuHwCg/s320/IMG_7549.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Tim Rhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10253798211455734763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1642891414237888233.post-35994677794738132662010-12-22T04:48:00.000+07:002010-12-22T04:48:00.528+07:00On Our Way Home<i>**this should have been posted yesterday. sorry about that.**</i><br />
<br />
Today we received Liam's visa! Fed-Ex finally made it to us, and just in the nick of time.<br />
<br />
Last week when we had to change our plane tickets (for a hefty fee I sadly must add), we didn't know when to change them TO. Because the issuance and arrival of Liam's visa was unpredictable at best, we wanted to change the ticket to a date where we knew we wouldn't have to change it all over again. It was tricky-- we needed it further in the future to allow as much time as possible for it to get here (and not to have to change it again, for yet another crazy fee), but soon enough to not use up all of our vacation days.<br />
<br />
Tomorrow is that magical day. The day we set a week ago in hopes to have it by then. Fortunately we were able to receive it today-- although we weren't really nervous at this point, we found out on Friday it had arrived in Rome.<br />
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It's been a good extra week though. We've had opportunities to visit other cities around Rome (seriously, visiting Italian cities could NEVER get old. Seriously.) and eating more pizza, pasta and gelatos (in that order and repeat).<br />
<br />
As amazing as Rome and Italy is we are looking forward to our time back in the sub-zero temperatures and snowy terrain of Moscow. We couldn't be more excited about all of our upcoming Christmas festivities.<br />
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Hopefully in the near future we'll be able to share a little of our experiences here in Italy. I hope your holiday this year is a great one.Tim Rhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10253798211455734763noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1642891414237888233.post-86672184401520332492010-12-15T04:54:00.000+07:002010-12-15T04:54:13.104+07:00Still in Italy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div> We were supposed to be back in Moscow today.<br />
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We've been touring Italy for just about two weeks now. It's been a fantastic vacation, and it's not ending as soon as we thought. We can't complain-- I mean, it's Italy. But our departure date is being pushed back a little.<br />
<br />
One of the things we had to do while on vacation, ironically, was apply for and receive a visa for Liam to get back into Russia. Although we sent in the application immediately when we got here (and hoped it'd arrive by now), it's taking more time than we had imagined. Surprise surprise.<br />
<br />
But like I said, we can't complain. We are running a little low on our vacation funds, the trip has been incredible. We've been able to cover Rome, visit Florence, take a quick trip to see Pisa, and spend some time in Naples (where my mother's parents lived before immigrating back in the day). We'll try to post pictures and stories soon!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh28CkiewlGzF8zlinN9553mgzdu74FJz67VtnQNI21RFvSVu4M3MA_dT0YVM3vD0dUQxJfyMS6bzBIzWx4TAycfbSiPBsHyNt78FsIegI9mOZapx0t9G9VD3gXL-jcR_qt1sYZrl1Joohf/s1600/IMG_6899.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh28CkiewlGzF8zlinN9553mgzdu74FJz67VtnQNI21RFvSVu4M3MA_dT0YVM3vD0dUQxJfyMS6bzBIzWx4TAycfbSiPBsHyNt78FsIegI9mOZapx0t9G9VD3gXL-jcR_qt1sYZrl1Joohf/s320/IMG_6899.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Tim Rhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10253798211455734763noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1642891414237888233.post-77602937613734106202010-11-29T02:16:00.000+07:002010-11-29T02:16:33.933+07:00Thanks<i>Every moment is a feast of grace.</i><br />
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<br />
<br />
In no particular order, here are some things (trivial and all--and in no particular order) that I'm thankful for this year:<br />
<i> </i><br />
<ul><li><b>Skype</b> - I really don't know how people lived overseas before this. Total game changer.</li>
<li><b>Public Transportation</b> - I couldn't speak more highly of Moscow's public transit. We are completely content not owning a car here.</li>
<li><b>My Wife</b> - On a year that's been particularly tough for her, she was tough right back. I am so insanely proud of her for all that she's been through. During those days where she had to walk on icy streets in below freezing weather to get to her doctor appointment, she didn't complain about all the stuff she would have been perfectly justified in complaining about. She just did it. She's an incredible woman, wife, and mother.</li>
<li><b>Liam</b> - Becoming a parent is the scariest thing I've ever done, probably. It still is pretty terrifying. But there's just something so amazing and exciting about it that I can't imagine life without him now.</li>
<li><b>Strawberry Pretzel Salad</b> - No explanation needed </li>
<li><b>Family and Friends</b> <b>(in the States)</b> - Thank you so much for keeping up with us. It's been so meaningful to us. I can't begin to say how much we have needed it.</li>
<li><b>Friends (in Moscow)</b> - We have been so incredibly fortunate to have amazing friends in this large and overwhelming city. We are thankful for them all.</li>
<li><b>Florence and the Machine, Arcade Fire, The National, Janelle Monae, Shad, and etc.</b> - I don't know how Liam would get to sleep without these songs --- OH NO..... Liam's already turning into a hipster!!!</li>
<li> <b>Living in Moscow</b> - Living in and experiencing another culture, while difficult at times, has been an absolute excitement and joy. Anything I say about this will only sound hokey and cliche, so I'm afraid to say anything more. But it's been amazing.</li>
<li><b>YOU</b></li>
</ul>Tim Rhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10253798211455734763noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1642891414237888233.post-90929424323541158562010-11-22T21:33:00.000+07:002010-11-22T21:33:20.861+07:00Not From Around HereThere's always this moment when interacting with locals in Moscow when you can tell they've got you figured out. It's a moment that you are trying your hardest for them to never figure out. That moment when they realize that you're not from around these parts.<br />
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<ul><li><b>The Look</b> - For most encounters, there's always this look they give you when they realize you aren't Russian. It is difficult to explain. There's just a flash. Suddenly something happens in their eyes when they realize there's a reason behind your odd accent. Or a reason you don't understand their question. You can just tell.</li>
<li><b>The Switch</b> - This doesn't happen that often, but when we're at restaurants or stores that are exports from the States (Starbucks, Dunkin Donuts, etc.), most of the employees have a larger knowledge of English. These places are more tricky when it comes to getting away with Russian. They're more eager to use the English (or other) language that they've learned. I can imagine-- I'm definitely going to have the same reaction if I'm in the U.S. and a Russian is trying to speak with me. But as someone trying to learn the language and trying so hard to get away with what Russian I do know.... I feel so defeated. I was at Starbucks one day, ordering things and getting everything right. I was so proud of myself until the cashier asked me, in English, "Is this for here or to go?"</li>
<li><b>The Point</b> - This one sneaks up on you. This is when you're at a store or fast food place, and instead of telling you how much you owe, they just point at the amount on their cash register. At some time during the transaction, you did or said something that completely gave you away, so the person doesn't even bother trying to speak to you. [So my pride isn't completely shattered, sometimes I'll speak the number back to the cashier, as a question-- but really just to prove to her that I can in fact understand. Yes, I'm that pathetic.]</li>
<li><b>The Repeat and Smirk</b> - This is probably completely harmless and nothing personal, but sometimes the person we're interacting with us will notice a glaring mistake in our language. Instead of letting it go, they will look at us with this sarcastic grin and repeat exactly what we said, kind of chuckling to themselves. Like I said, I know they aren't trying to insult us, but it's always disappointing.</li>
</ul><br />
Of course, even though these do happen, I speak only in jest. On nearly every occasion people are incredibly patient and courteous with our mistakes and stupidity. Most people we interact with go out of their way to be helpful-- it's been such an aid for Beth and I. We have been thankful for assistance nearly every time we have needed it. As I have said before, we try in every way possible to avoid being "found out" that we're not Russian, but when it inevitably happens, it's almost always cordial. <br />
<ul></ul>Tim Rhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10253798211455734763noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1642891414237888233.post-21750855116025429762010-11-19T02:36:00.000+07:002010-11-19T02:36:02.640+07:00Ode to Stardogs<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht1DE9rFqv6FNbZKWMLZKvlfjjw2mpSTjAAd-BZ8wVcxiFCh23uMgB16xk3vCW_rau3Rbtuxgru6HNfYfHlleSoJdvZ_mBRWCgAFzG-3XuLmuQYBLhGE0GjDAO1OVtscaEuwogbEkXkMEG/s1600/x_dcef27ce.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht1DE9rFqv6FNbZKWMLZKvlfjjw2mpSTjAAd-BZ8wVcxiFCh23uMgB16xk3vCW_rau3Rbtuxgru6HNfYfHlleSoJdvZ_mBRWCgAFzG-3XuLmuQYBLhGE0GjDAO1OVtscaEuwogbEkXkMEG/s320/x_dcef27ce.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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I'm not really a fan of hot dogs. I know you're kind of supposed to say that if you want people to think you generally value your health, but I really don't eat them often.<br />
<br />
But here in Moscow, I've fallen in love with Stardogs. I'm pretty sure it's only because of the fact that I can just get them on the side of the road while I'm rushing around the city, and the allure of the city-life aspect of it all, but I love them. They HAVE to be pretty bad for you-- and what's worse-- I always get the one wrapped in freakin' bacon. BACON!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQSyxeWNgMNfIHocnN1Lj9nAXsc_7LLRD2sWxFH6yyPhyphenhypheni35OoFlEkUvmENS9T9EEwqQY25F6hCLkI1AP9qGZfHykyAFQMghHkgmlJViG2dcGRKaGm-2lrkTXP5Sv6HHWZPtIOQfsebHhW/s1600/x_c1f9a769.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQSyxeWNgMNfIHocnN1Lj9nAXsc_7LLRD2sWxFH6yyPhyphenhypheni35OoFlEkUvmENS9T9EEwqQY25F6hCLkI1AP9qGZfHykyAFQMghHkgmlJViG2dcGRKaGm-2lrkTXP5Sv6HHWZPtIOQfsebHhW/s320/x_c1f9a769.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Just imagine this bad boy with bacon all around it.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">But sadly, over the past two weeks, all sorts of kiosks lining the sidewalks and streets have been taken down. <a href="http://www.themoscowtimes.com/news/article/500-kiosks-closed-more-to-follow/422968.html"> Moscow's new mayor Sergei Sobyanin decided that over 500 kiosks all around the city should be taken down. </a> Although his attempts may seem noble--his main concern is cleaning up the city and reducing traffic--they really get in the way of my (admittedly infrequent) eating habits. While I don't eat these often enough for it to put a dent in my waistband, there are several stands that have provided the very sustenance needed to get me on to my next errand. The one nearest my metro stop? Gone. The one nearest a school I teach? Gone.<br />
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Of course this is saddening on other levels. While ultimately mayor Sobyanin's decision is only removing 15% of total kiosks (and not only Stardog kiosks, we're talking flower shops, Shorma shops, produce stands, and so on), it is affecting numerous migrant workers. According to the article, 7,000 people are out of a job because of the decision and they were given almost no notice. Beth and I do not live close enough firsthand, but we have heard friends talk about the speed and severity that these stands were taken out during the middle of the night. They were literally torn apart where they stood. I'm sure this didn't happen to all of them, but still.<br />
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I don't know enough to make judgements on what was right or wrong to do, or what should happen. But my gut's telling me something's just not right.<br />
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</div>Tim Rhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10253798211455734763noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1642891414237888233.post-50376044487292563092010-11-11T06:16:00.000+07:002010-11-11T06:16:37.482+07:00To IzhevskBeth and I were able to take a trip last week to Izhevsk to visit friends. As I've posted before, Izhevsk is about a 16 hour train ride east of Moscow-- but a one and a half hour flight. We felt that it would be a good idea also to try out flying with Liam when the flight time was pretty minimal, and he did very well. We found cheap one-way tickets and flew to a city about 3 hours away from Izhevsk, where our friends the Friersons and Wilhelms graciously met us.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtpZioDt7EhteDQR9MxCHMEf_dx3FKr7yibcVemIHQZrWHdi8Z7BdgsvujzTv4WsgUKr5P6r0PpfLlMkHYiaSMGSRQbXHxkvusDSoLZETgOY6yjXLVicJLKVbugJc18_DV-s0Xf-YZr8b6/s1600/IMG_4837.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtpZioDt7EhteDQR9MxCHMEf_dx3FKr7yibcVemIHQZrWHdi8Z7BdgsvujzTv4WsgUKr5P6r0PpfLlMkHYiaSMGSRQbXHxkvusDSoLZETgOY6yjXLVicJLKVbugJc18_DV-s0Xf-YZr8b6/s320/IMG_4837.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8D1CcpxB5wDYmL2FecUpWs5EYI3bmqwxJRwYC-0xsSDXn297OkIpSHUFO3lMdTbx6d5HQbAcD2XgirvmGfBKMWO7d5gvE7XVlLI_aIwHzoq_I6F_oLBSCMVyDiSdg0zunpEZIbFHHo8sG/s1600/IMG_4842.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8D1CcpxB5wDYmL2FecUpWs5EYI3bmqwxJRwYC-0xsSDXn297OkIpSHUFO3lMdTbx6d5HQbAcD2XgirvmGfBKMWO7d5gvE7XVlLI_aIwHzoq_I6F_oLBSCMVyDiSdg0zunpEZIbFHHo8sG/s320/IMG_4842.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR6lx1ycZbUKyeld4DSNI8rpwlbOp4BbFNvUj75CxK8MpnyLLFT-T-SBnGZskm6HojVripAfWoEZsxF8U6pmWhfcqk_XPeVimPRkJkfIFW_5R4a6w60udP4-T-n1CSYNQa5DwRzmVSkzhU/s1600/IMG_4844.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR6lx1ycZbUKyeld4DSNI8rpwlbOp4BbFNvUj75CxK8MpnyLLFT-T-SBnGZskm6HojVripAfWoEZsxF8U6pmWhfcqk_XPeVimPRkJkfIFW_5R4a6w60udP4-T-n1CSYNQa5DwRzmVSkzhU/s320/IMG_4844.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRW-BPhwBx3HKT2MfaIO6zu9_IlzAaORZDZazmEs3K3gosoqY8wncE_anKVKgTbVj1rkLUfvfJY8M6Q81AlmqVq7ViZvjFjGrn4qlkMFAdP_5rydOXsIjfXJkvuebEMNyxfu_AdciiciJA/s1600/IMG_4851.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRW-BPhwBx3HKT2MfaIO6zu9_IlzAaORZDZazmEs3K3gosoqY8wncE_anKVKgTbVj1rkLUfvfJY8M6Q81AlmqVq7ViZvjFjGrn4qlkMFAdP_5rydOXsIjfXJkvuebEMNyxfu_AdciiciJA/s320/IMG_4851.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Liam is so excited to see his Aunt D!</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2xHLTaMSjgKZ4M_mtyExHcDkFHc1CQi9D1cQG7UgsdyOZn2484hLCKSR3lcASelyBKJCIBoRDTTVD3Gst-B0BBH74RfJS3lFcedr6mLOEH-X2Y2K1G6lC_dunWgWhiTOQ_xIY_JZBHmSG/s1600/IMG_4852.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2xHLTaMSjgKZ4M_mtyExHcDkFHc1CQi9D1cQG7UgsdyOZn2484hLCKSR3lcASelyBKJCIBoRDTTVD3Gst-B0BBH74RfJS3lFcedr6mLOEH-X2Y2K1G6lC_dunWgWhiTOQ_xIY_JZBHmSG/s320/IMG_4852.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">I couldn't pick a favorite, honestly.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirYdZoomgPRFpPBLDgJxqF_y7TmhcPzEWqGLR3Xn4XTp2-_nhKlEuJywMTIUFMstyPZ8FCIOVm5jKyJCj6MQ0iLNcxKGPoP_LAP-KzSdvTwarrxCLo6Dl6RYlsJxg5Bpdy9xgzhtaDWq8u/s1600/IMG_4856.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirYdZoomgPRFpPBLDgJxqF_y7TmhcPzEWqGLR3Xn4XTp2-_nhKlEuJywMTIUFMstyPZ8FCIOVm5jKyJCj6MQ0iLNcxKGPoP_LAP-KzSdvTwarrxCLo6Dl6RYlsJxg5Bpdy9xgzhtaDWq8u/s320/IMG_4856.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Little pepper jack o'lanterns for our Halloween party.</div><br />
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Visiting Izhevsk gave us a glimpse of life in Russia that is not very noticeable or even apparent at times in Moscow. It also gave us such an appreciation for our friends who live there. While we were on cloud nine the entire time we visited, Izhevsk is probably like any other city in the sense that if you're not there long enough you don't notice the blemishes. We were there a week, so every experience was something new and exciting. I'm sure our friends love the city-- but we did not experience <b>any</b> of the difficulties that come with living in a secluded and limited city that they probably see often. We are so thankful for our friends. They've endured hardships I'll never even think about. It gives me perspective when I get stressed over situations here in Moscow. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVQ_6b-CCdbgQ-qNWHKGRguL1yEz0_I0tcUc8WLT9nsl1e0bRH2lImAb4WmyH6DcOdPGh-aIGVTjW94UjlBAIXoKcI1a0xMgaGXluE5tNpC9PONXzrx3OL555hxiU3FwQL220X4qFbQGa9/s1600/IMG_4878.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVQ_6b-CCdbgQ-qNWHKGRguL1yEz0_I0tcUc8WLT9nsl1e0bRH2lImAb4WmyH6DcOdPGh-aIGVTjW94UjlBAIXoKcI1a0xMgaGXluE5tNpC9PONXzrx3OL555hxiU3FwQL220X4qFbQGa9/s320/IMG_4878.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhav_4RRQxDGEYwHGthASTZK2d2quEq7Yyll-LI-RHBtcdVWi-ENUeYr0KTv50bHfIiJ_oRibtRwErIhNkktdo97yAZ56GL3kqtjUIt-JL2yp4VzTsh9BpnOauWHDWp-HsDplQE5jXstjmW/s1600/IMG_4879.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhav_4RRQxDGEYwHGthASTZK2d2quEq7Yyll-LI-RHBtcdVWi-ENUeYr0KTv50bHfIiJ_oRibtRwErIhNkktdo97yAZ56GL3kqtjUIt-JL2yp4VzTsh9BpnOauWHDWp-HsDplQE5jXstjmW/s320/IMG_4879.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">One of the most insane mullets I've ever witnessed.</div><br />
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On Friday, we traveled outside of Izhevsk to a village where we met with several friends and shared a meal and devotional together. Definitely one of the highlights of our trip.<br />
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On our return home, we took the train with Ross and Ricky. Unfortunately we had waited to long to purchase a platskart ticket with them, so we were in kupe with Andre (middle-aged large man) and Olya (older but incredibly kind woman). The train is always exciting and fun to take, but I am absolutely certain I can say that only because we don't use it often. Things are definitely a little more nerve-wracking with Liam. Most of our evening and night was spent walking him up and down the hallway of our wagon. Olya really took to Liam, and talked to him nearly the entire time she was awake. Right when she first walked into our room and waved goodbye to her friends out the window, she told us, "Give him to me," and proceeded to wave Liam in front of the window to her friends. <br />
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Without a doubt, from the beginning to the very end this trip was quite an adventure. Beth and I are more than grateful that we were able to spend a week with some very special people.Tim Rhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10253798211455734763noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1642891414237888233.post-27970566051373586692010-11-05T04:39:00.000+07:002010-11-05T04:39:49.622+07:00Take You to the BarbershopGetting a haircut is, oddly enough, one of the scariest things I do here in Moscow. I haven't gotten it quite figured out, but it just is. I just get nervous every time I force myself to get one. Really, really nervous.<br />
<br />
But for the most part things are really great. The particular place I go (in the basement of an apartment building) only charges 150 rubles (about 4-5 bucks), and things are always moving quickly. You wait in line outside the room (if there ever is a line--it's only happened once for me) and when there's a free barber you nod and shake his hand.<br />
<br />
With absolute certainty I know that one of the reasons I'm nervous is just the language. I actually have most of the words down that I need for getting a haircut, but I think I'm just scared that I could say something wrong that would make my request the opposite of what I would like (for instance, instead of saying "I just want a little cut all around," I'm worried I might ask for everything to be cut except for a little). It's really silly, it's just hair, but I just get nervous. I also think that has to do with the innate desire of being understood. Or at least that's my excuse.<br />
<br />
I also think I'm nervous because of the first time I had ever gone. My Russian was atrocious, and I just felt like I was being made fun of the entire time (which I probably wasn't). But when you can't really understand you have this strange feeling that everything is about you. That group over there is saying something about how silly you look, or that security guard is laughing at you, and so on. In reality none of that is true, but during those months where I understood practically nothing, I (selfishly and rather narcissistic-ally) assumed it was all about me.<br />
<br />
Anyways, so the first time I just felt like a fool. And I knew the price for a haircut was 150 rubles, but in some strange attempt at congeniality, I asked how much the price was. The man looked at me and up at my hair and said, "For *your* hair....... 200 rubles." I just handed him the bills and walked away, defeated and with no recourse. No snappy thing to say.<br />
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And ever since then I've been nervous I'll have a similar experience. The only thing is I never do. Every other person who I've sat with to let slice and dice at my hair has been beyond kind, and I've been able to share about myself and ask about them. They've only charged the correct amount, and they usually comment on the amount of hair that has ended up on the floor.<br />
<br />
I'm sorry-- after reading over this post again, I just feel so <b>ridiculous</b>. I get stressed out about some of the dumbest things. Please know that if you are thinking about how silly I am while reading this, I agree with you completely.Tim Rhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10253798211455734763noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1642891414237888233.post-66369549064341974642010-10-25T05:04:00.000+08:002010-10-25T05:04:45.627+08:00Anyone Listening?Living in Moscow for over a year and a half, we've gotten used to the idea that most people around us don't understand us. We absolutely don't accept this as a universal rule and are pretty careful, but we're not as concerned as we probably would be in the States.<br />
<br />
This past weekend Beth and I were meeting someone for lunch and sightseeing. Because Liam was up most of the night before, we were running on very little sleep, and had no time to grab breakfast before the meeting. So naturally we were more argumentative (honestly, I get upset when my anger is blamed on "being hungry" for being too simplistic. But it's usually always true. Am I that predictable??). It all led to the silent treatment as we took the metro to meet our friend.<br />
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There we found a seat next to a pleasant-looking girl and waited. It took a couple minutes, but we began talking. We apologized to each other, but also explained what got us so irritated in the first place (I will always defy the fact that it's just mere hunger). We were going on and on in a "This is what you said and this is how it made me feel" therapy session/venting for about 5 minutes or so until the girl beside us turns around and says "Excuse me, where are you from?"<br />
<br />
She spoke English. <br />
<br />
For a split second Beth and I froze. This girl, right beside us, speaks English. And she probably heard everything we were talking about.<br />
<br />
Fortunately for us, she acted like she didn't. It turns out she (her name is Anna) is a Muscovite and visited Los Angeles and New York during the summer. She studies English in the Moscow State University of Linguistics. We had a good conversation and actually exchanged contact information. <br />
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All I know is that now I'm cursed to be extra doting to Beth whenever Anna's around.Tim Rhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10253798211455734763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1642891414237888233.post-30913668674488293782010-10-16T14:32:00.002+08:002010-10-16T14:32:51.928+08:00It Was Just a Routine Traffic Stop in RussiaUntil.....<br />
<br />
(wait for it)<br />
<br />
<object width="640" height="390"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Lk3ibIGKTYA&hl=en_US&feature=player_embedded&version=3"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Lk3ibIGKTYA&hl=en_US&feature=player_embedded&version=3" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowScriptAccess="always" width="640" height="390"></embed></object>Tim Rhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10253798211455734763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1642891414237888233.post-24542717699537118642010-10-16T04:22:00.000+08:002010-10-16T04:22:29.308+08:00Our (very brief) AutumnThis year we have really tried to treasure the Fall season.<br />
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In Moscow, it doesn't last very long. A month. If that.<br />
<br />
This past weekend we grabbed our friend Andrea and hurried to the center of Moscow as fast as we could. We made it in time to get some pictures at a nearby garden and Red Square.<br />
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It's already begun snowing in Moscow (although only in brief moments, here and there and then gone), and the temperature has been hovering in the 30s and 40s. There are many things I'm going to miss about the Summer (other than the insane heat and smoke). I'm going to miss the walks through overcrowded parks, with nearly every Muscovite trying to take advantage of the incredible weather. I'm going to miss the produce stands on every street corner and in every neighborhood (I think for the entire Summer our dessert was simply strawberries and vanilla ice cream). <br />
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Not to sound pathetic, but I'm going to miss the sun. I'm going to miss the get-togethers that involve simply walking around the city for hours. <br />
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While I am actually looking forward to snow and Winter, there is nothing like a Summer in Moscow.Tim Rhodeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10253798211455734763noreply@blogger.com0