My Russian Cab Driver And Being A Tourist.

     Sometimes I think white people that have lived most of their lives in North America forget that other white people may have drastically different culture. I don't want this to sound racist, it is only a theory based of my own observations. Canadians may fare slightly better as we have Quebec and they have a distinctly different culture and one I am proud to have part of Canada.

For example, when we arrived in Anapa Russia one of our new bus friends gave us the number for a cab driver. He had a large enough car to accommodate all of our luggage.  It also turned out Vladimir spoke English. A very rare thing in the seaside resort of Anapa, Russia. Prior to moving to Anapa he had been a military pilot and explained in rusty but very articulate English that he had learned and later instructed English at a small island military base near Alaska.  In his prime, this man's dialect and intonation would have been perfect. His grasp of vocabulary and grammar was better than some English speaking Americans. When we arrived at our apartment, my wife Inga invited him up for a coffee and lunch. I thought this was very odd but just rolled with it.  He shared our meal and seemed to enjoy practicing English.

Later in the month we needed another ride out to the railway station to buy tickets for Ingas sister's girls and so we called Vladimir. He drove us out to the station and suggested we do some swimming at a local beach out near the station. I said yes. I find I am doing that a lot; agreeing and sometimes I even know what I am agreeing to. So one the way back Vladimir pulled into a long side road and parked. The girls, Vladimir, and myself went swimming for an hour on our driver's favourite beach. Then when we were done he invited us back to his house after quickly calling his wife. We accepted the invitation and found ourselves in a very nice little single home surrounded by a vegetable garden. Inside was spotless and nicely decorated home and we got the grand tour as Vladimir's wife got coffee, wine, caviar, and pancakes made with shaved zucchini ready. We shared a meal and learned and shared the names of different vegetables. It was an exceptionally pleasant afternoon that had me thinking about these cultural differences.

     When I was a child living in Cloverdale, all sorts of events used to take place at the fairgrounds. Living so close by we used to jump the back fence and sneak into most of them. One day we noticed large orange banners and strange music so a few buddies and me did what we always had done and jumped the fence for a look. This time was different; we were immediately captured by very tall, stern looking bearded men wearing turbans and swords! They told us to follow them with thick accents and very basic grasp of English. We followed them sure we were going to get reported to the police or worse. To our surprise and delight they brought us to a large outside area full of exotic smells. We were given plates and placed in a line. Following those in front of us we offered the plates to the ladies and they proceeded to heap large amounts of food and treats onto them. We were ushered to seats and shared a meal. I had never eaten anything like this in Canada and was surprised at how good it all tasted. After there were dances and swordplay and my friends and I enjoyed a new culture five hundred meters from my backyard.

Later when these new Canadians had issues in school or in social situations I found myself sympathetic to their plight. Not because I am an overly accepting person but because these people had showed me their cultural kindness. They had accepted my trespass for what it was, curiosity, and welcomed it and me with a meal. This simple act dictated how I interacted with Indo-Canadians for the rest of my life. Many are now proudly my friends and while sometimes their cultural differences make me pause and think it is thought with acceptance that asks could this difference make me better if I adopted it.

 I guess at the core of this is an explanation for why I would choose to leave the country many are risking everything to come to. I love Canada; I served in the military to protect her and would lay down my life for the values she represents. Is it perfect, or the best country? No, it is not. It could be better. It would do well to remember the things that built it and separated it from our neighbours. It was built by immigration and adopted the different cultures of those that made it. We should continue to do those things. Not all cultural differences should or could be adopted but surely we could grab a few of the good ones.

 Vladimir took us home, full, refreshed, and with treats from the garden. He told me the fare for the ride, the exact amount for a round trip to the railway station. We were new friends, and business is separate, as we all have to eat. I totally, culturally, got it.


       Yesterday we went to a place in Anapa called Gold Beach. It is attached to a development and

small cabin style accommodations. It is a private beach with a quasi all-inclusive setup. It is a exquisite place and it is very expensive. I don’t mean expensive from a local perspective but from a North American tourist perspective as well. So the question of value comes into play. I don’t mind spending big money for big service or exclusive treatment so did Gold Beach deliver? Yes and No.

The day was sweltering and busy. The local beaches were packed and as it was later in the morning getting a quiet place to sit, relax, and write was not going to happen. We have been living rather frugally as of late so I suggested we give this place a try. The price of admittance is only five hundred rubles per person, or a little over fifteen dollars Canadian. A reasonable price for privacy, comfortable lounge chairs, and open access to showers and toilets. It is also supposed to come with WiFi. It did have WiFi, but I couldn’t hookup to it from my phone or my laptop. The signal strength just wasn’t good enough on the beach area. It worked on the upper deck. Food is reasonably priced and superb, while drinks from the two bars are very expensive. I mean expensive from a North American standard. Don’t get me wrong; they are magnificent, prepared with exacting care and with the best of ingredients so from a value perspective I would still give it a plus.

Where I guess it fell down for me is from a customer service perspective. The bartenders were good, and very skilled but not at all friendly. They weren’t rude, but they were stereotypically Russian. While a stereotype, I had yet to experience this cold demeanor,. In my usual little “sea bar," Sergey my bartender and now facebook friend took exceptional care of me. He realized I couldn’t speak the language and took the time to be very clear and helped facilitate food orders and the like. To put a finer point on this, today is his day off. He is enjoying the day with his very beautiful girlfriend swimming in the Sea by the bar. He took a second, so quietly I almost didn’t notice, to hover near the bar while I
ordered my usual. He isn’t getting paid today, and to put it into perspective he probably doesn’t make half of what the bartenders at the Gold Beach make. Yet he took the time away from his girl to make sure I was ok. This is the other end of customer service and something I wouldn’t expect from a Canadian host at a resort, yet here it is.

So I guess the stereotypes prevail, and fail, depending on where one goes in Anapa. Strangely most North American tourists would go to Gold Beach and experience this while none would come to my little “no place special yet twice a beautiful” and experience the complete opposite.  Perhaps this is why the stereotype prevails? I hadn’t experienced it in two months of being in Russia. So I was a little shocked to find it in such an exclusive place as Gold Beach. Is it perhaps because Russians that go there expect their bar staff to be aloof? I have experienced this in exclusive clubs in Las Vegas. I treat my servers in The Foundation Room as old friends I haven’t seen in a few months and they treat me the same. Some of my friends, some American some Canadian prefer to be treated with a little more deference and as such they are. It is what they are comfortable with, and the style they prefer? Perhaps it is similar at Gold Beach?

I will be going again to Gold Beach with a very powerful and connected businessman from Anapa. I will compare the differences and post an update if required. I am not saying this place should be off your travel list if you come to Anapa.  Actually quite the contrary, it is a very nice beach with great surroundings and a kid friendly yet quite enough for adult's place. The lifeguards watch the swimmers, not their phones, and all is as advertised. The fancy inside restaurant looks quite awesome, with sea views and varied menu. It is Foundation Room Vegas expensive and written all in Russian so as a person that can’t speak the language I wasn’t comfortable ordering as you pay for things based on grams. In the example if a steak is 20 dollars per 100 grams then, you pay whatever the cut of beef that hits your plate weighs. By contrast, a Foundation Room menu breaks that down for you offering 10oz or 14oz option at fixed prices. When faced with a phone number level bill, this certainly adds a little comfort to your dining experience. In this place, I wasn’t sure if my bill would be less than the large amount of walking around money I had on me and Credit Cards are hit and miss as far as authorization goes in this country. All for my own protection; I have been assured by the companies that issued the cards although to date only my US issued card has been a problem. Global conspiracy theory implied. It has been said Banks not Tanks shape the future of nations now.

            I was asked the other day by my favourite bartender and new Facebook friend if my book was available in Russian. I think he reads quite well in Russian but so much is lost in translation. I remember my nephew Mike commenting on The Metamorphosis, a novella by Franz Kafka, and my partner at the time reflecting that it lost a great deal in the translation from German. Now I most certainly am not comparing my work to Kafka and I don’t think Grey Redemption would be a hard translation as the concepts are very simple, but I think the size is a stumbling block.

        I have many fans and readers in Russia no doubt because it is not a hurrah for America we win novel. Not that this was meant as a slight on America. But friends and family you can’t win all the time and I am getting a little bored with the expectation that you do. So to my readers and fans in Russia I will tell you the same thing I told my friend Sergey. “If it is meant to be it will happen."

It is a good idea for all writers to adopt this kind of thinking. I write to entertain, but in reality I write to get the stories out of my head. I commented the other day on Facebook that I saw someone reading Boy’s Life by Robert R. McCammon in Anapa Russia the other day. It was a translated copy. I hated and loved this book as a teen and I told Rick this once as we had breakfast together. It was his departure from one genre, and one I loved to a new one and one he has become more famous for writing. Great for Rick and bad for Scott. However he recently finished The Five that once again proved his horror writing days are not over.

This Day We Write Challenge!

 

      One of the things I loved about my childhood was Sunday mornings. On most Sundays, my Mom made bread from scratch. She didn't use a bread-maker; they had yet to be invented. I would wake up to find discoloured old pans laid out, greased, and ready for the next batch. The house perfumed with the scent of fresh bread. This in itself is a wonderful memory, but what makes it even better were "Dough-Dodgers."  These were the leftover pieces of bread that Mom would toss in a large vat of oil. They would plump up and were awesome.

The quaint little seaside bar that stocks my Guinness gets something similar delivered at 10 am each day. I say similar, but they are the same with the added treat of being stuffed with mashed potato and cheese or fried onions. I am not quite sure which of these are my favorites, more research is required.

I mention this in the context of "This Day We Write." A phrase I am going to attribute to Robert Dugoni made popular at the Surrey International Writers Conference in 2012. This may not be completely accurate but like most history it is how I remember it.

     The other day I posted a picture on Twitter that showed my new office view and challenged other writers to post up the same. I didn't do this to brag my place was the nicest or anything. I did it to help inspire and place into context some of the ideas of "This Day We Write." As a writer, the most important thing we do is write. We may create and get ideas as we go through our daily lives, but the core of the discipline is writing.

     Yesterday it rained in Anapa. When it rains here it actually pours. Torrents of rainwater rush down the streets threatening small cars and children left unattended. So it was less than my usual sunny day lets go down to the beach eat a Dough-Dodger, drink a Guinness, and write kind of days. I also had the flu, and not one of the wimpy North American varieties. I will spare you the details but consider I never lost a pound in my two bouts in Africa with malaria and this "flu" shaved six kilograms off me in one day. So I didn't feel like writing.

So I sat down and lacking any real creative inspiration past wrapping my Mac in plastic wrap "just in case" I did a bunch of editing. In that process, I discovered a little creativity in cutting things that didn't push the story forward. But the point is I wrote!

For me at least this is what being a professional writer is all about. It isn't waiting for a blast of creative insight or great opening line. It is about the discipline of sitting down each and every day and doing it. When it is kept in the forefront of our mind, research, creativity, and execution come easier than waiting till the nebulas inspiration strikes you.

    So the "challenge" was to allow new writers to see how we as published authors did it. Kathy Chung responded with a very serene picture of the yard with an empty chair. Does the empty chair represent the reader? Does the looming Black Sea in my picture represent the unknown distance Rhys must go in my manuscript?  I am not sure as I am not really that good in "reading" into things.  But I think the exercise is a valid one. So with this blog and with a few more posts on Twitter I will again attempt to get more people engaged in this little exercise. So do it to inspire new writers or do it to get retweeted by someone who has more followers than you but let's do it!

 Russia is ripe with rumors and allegations of hardcore criminal activity, organized crime and gang violence. Until the other night, I had seen no overt evidence of this. Conspiracy theories and stories abound about all sorts of people, places, and things. Russians love to talk in hushed tones with close friends about the latest issue that might be going on. It is a fun pastime and one I am learning to not put much weight in. The locals don't, but they still love to talk about it. The other day we had huge waves and a small earthquake. The various theories ran the gambit of a Russian atom crusher sub getting blown up by an American sub chaser off the coast of Crimea to an event created by HARP in Alaska. The Russian people are very creative. I commented that it was probably just a shift in the plates under the Black Sea, a very seismically active area and wave action usually follows.  While my grasp of the language is poor, my grasp of body language is excellent, and the body language said wet blanket. My logical explanation lacked creativity and something to build on. So like Spock in an improvisational comedy I had dropped the ball.  But I started this paragraph with the other night gang attack so I shouldn't keep you in suspense.

    The night had a crooked moon, blood red with foreshadowing and had I been in a Robert McCammon novel I would have been aware of the pending assault. But I wasn't I was in tourist mode walking back from a popular nightclub after having a few beer and salted fish, as is the custom. Like Vegas walking on the street with a bottle is not really legal but it is for the most part ignored. The Rose Park was closed so I cut down a back alley the street lights failing to reach into the dark recesses of the street. I felt I was being watched before I saw anyone. Years of training did not fail me but try as might to find the reason for this feeling I could not. Although as I approached the corner, this changed,  I spotted the first one. He was sitting down on his haunches, common in Russia, trying to look very casual. Too casual and when his eyes darted in my direction, for just a second, I knew my sense of being followed was correct.

I passed a car and used the rear window as a mirror to look behind me. A flash of movement, crouching low crossed behind me. Hugging the shadows from one side of the alley to the other. Watching my progression down the street with feral eyes filled with need. I knew I was the target of this desire and wished I'd taken a cab. I felt the alcohol fight with and loose to the sudden surge of adrenaline. It was going to happen soon.

I searched for others. The odds were not bad right now, but I also knew more had to be involved. Two more appeared as if on command, summoned by my fear as surely as the streetlight sudden failure had been orchestrated. I tensed my legs pumping blood into the muscles for the fight I knew was coming. There would be no option to speak with these predators; I simply lacked the language skills.  The one keeping point turned and looked right at me, our eyes locked and I knew it was go time.

The demand was direct and drawn out long, and while I didn't understand what the sound was I knew what was being said. Suddenly, as if to drive a point to the demand three others, I had yet to see flanked me and repeated the same sound with authority. The two I had seen took up positions watching up and down the street, for police we all knew would not be coming. The one that had been following me up the dark alley casually bumped me letting me know he was close.

So I was faced with a potentially very hostile situation, six against one. While all of us were adequately armed, I knew, I wasn't getting out of this unscathed. So faced with this reality I handed over the left over fish I had been stupid enough to leave the bar with. Each one approached knowing they had won this challenge and took the tribute in their mouth before disappearing back into the shadows, the last one giving me a light swat with his paw, letting me know I got off easy.

 Cats in Russia seem to be the only overt sign of territorial activity. Certain stores and shops have cats that stake out the front. Welcoming those that are familiar and watching, in that judgmental fashion only cats can do, those they don't know. My apartment complex has a few and each has a very specific territory and while meetings of a sort take place it seems very structured. This has been the only overt sign of gang activity I have seen.

 Now I am not naïve, I know in anyplace where money and transient population meet you will have organized crime. Vegas and Monte Carlo come to mind. Anapa is probably no different. What I guess is different is it is invisible. I am trained to spot these types of people and made a career of doing it well and sensing violence prior to it happening. To date I have seen nothing of the sort. I have most certainly witnessed deference displayed to VIP people, but is this because they are feared or respected? Are they criminals or pillars of the community? Perhaps a little of both?  I said to a friend here the other day that I thought the salient difference between Canada and Russia gangs and criminal activity is in Russia you know who the criminals are. They come by your shop and you pay them to keep the drunks, and petty criminals away. At home, we call that taxes and taxes pay cops to do the same. Here it is just private with fewer people having their nose in the trough. Isn't that capitalism?

Melancholy Mood in Anapa Russia

     Being away from family and friends is always difficult when traveling. Perhaps part of this is our inborn sense of guilt, or weirdly construed cultural work ethic. Technology makes this easier in some regards and demanding at the same time. While it is easier to remain connected in this wired world, because of this very thing it reminds us of what we are missing. I have been experiencing a little bit of this melancholy myself these past few days. It started in my favorite little beachside bar the other day.

     I like to type outside when I am in beautiful places. This is hard to do in English speaking countries as my attention is too often pulled away by the surrounding conversations. Thankfully my type of fiction takes me to exotic non-English speaking locales.  The other day I was sitting in my usual local bar and when I went up to get another Guinness, I realized I had a Canadian "loony" in my pocket. I sit for long periods so I usually tip very well as I am taking up a seat for longer than usual. My great bartender knew I was an English speaker as we had had a few games of charades already as he tried diligently to understand what I was asking. So I gave him the "loony" along with my usual tip. His face lit up at the gold coloured coin and he asked "Canadian"? I nodded and smiled when he showed the other staff as soon as I walked away. A few minutes later the sound system that usually plays a medley of Russian music started a Bryan Adams tune from my youth. At first I thought this was just a serendipitous coincidence. Then the Canadian National Anthem started and as I stood I noticed the bar staff watching me. Standing with emotion pouring down my cheeks, I was made very aware of just how much I was missing home.

    This morning my brother from another mother used the Apple application Facetime to bring me to the wedding of two good friends back in Canada. Nubia and Sean got married earlier in the day and Dimitri called me from the reception. So even though it was first thing in the morning for me I shared a drink and toast with the people that still remained. The phone being passed to each still in attendance, and I have to admit the visual perspective was not unlike being loaded. It hit me that I hadn't been at work for three months. It also hit me how much these people were family. While the type of work makes this connection perhaps stronger, I imagine it is similar for all. Congratulations and good wishes were shared with all and the call ended again with me missing home.

I should put home in quotations, as while Vancouver will always be my home, Anapa Russia is where I am choosing to call home now. Despite all the challenges that come with remaining in Anapa  Russia. These are not the fault of Russia or Canada just the reality of where relations between our two countries have brought us. Why we are so far apart is still a mystery to me. We seem to share much of the same values and dreams,  Family and times with friends are goals pursued by the average Russian. A trait shared with the average Canadian. We both have a very socialist ideology and government structure. We both believe that health care and education are basic rights for all. So I am very confused when I look at our Visa requirements. Citizens of the USA enjoy a far easier process and can stay in Russia far longer than Canadians.

     It's getting close to the Surrey International Writers Conference again. I won't be able to attend again this year as I will be on the other side of the world. Believe me when I say this is the only reason I won't be attending.  Last year found me locked into doing things for Grey Redemption and prevented me attending and I missed it. This year the five thousand in airfare makes the trip irresponsible. I am slowly learning this thing called responsibility! But this newly learned skill doesn't stop my desire to attend. I learned so very much from the other authors in attendance. Perhaps the most important of which was humility.

     So while I get to be kept in the loop with what is going on at home and I try to keep you and everyone else in the loop with these blog entries, Facebook, Skype, and Facetime it isn't the same as being there. If I had the funds, I think I'd be racking up the air miles but within the reality that is technology will have to suffice. It is not lost on me that this substitute is sadly lacking.