Book. THE END

    It has been a while since I posted anything to my blog as I have been busy getting the book ready. Yes, it officially has an ISBN 9781633237865, for those that like to keep track of such things. So it is officially done and Bob Mayer I can finally type ‘The End’. But, Like he pointed out in his blog a few months ago, rarely is it the end. Now, I have to get an official website back up. I got scammed on my previous site and learned a few lessons. Again, this would be something helpful to new writers to understand and get some insight from professional conferences. A simple understanding of the difference between marketing and advertising is not enough. You have to know your readers and know what they want to see in a graphic representation of your work. Sure it has to be easy for them to order and buy the book but it also has to give them something to do past the obvious. I have been using my blog as such, and it is a poor replacement for a well-designed site. So I have been working to get this accomplished. I have also been working closely with the layout and design of the interior of the book. Past edits, and formatting it has to be easy to read and intelligently laid out with enough gaps in the transitions. Thanks again Jay M. Then the cover and back block has to be done. So you see as wise Mr. Mayer points out ‘The End’ is just the beginning.

    My supportive wife, Inga, has left me with this task and is taking the time to spend time with her parents. This may seem odd to anyone who hasn’t lived with a writer. Too often we creative typing monkeys get frustrated and can unintentionally level this frustration at those closest to us. I like to be as honest as possible here. Perhaps too much so. Three days in my underwear, only remembering to eat when you get dizzy going to the washroom and trying to find a few answers in Vodka, or just

recently, Absinth! While the answers are rarely in a bottle, it does slow the brain or provide it a distraction to move out of the mud it finds miring the process. Absinth is perhaps different. They import the real wormwood stuff here. The magical formula used by many creative types in the past and outlawed in most countries. Yes, I know you can buy Absinth in Canada, and they say it is ‘real.' That real definition is a little interpretive. Real ingredients but… when you live in a country that worries about the rat poo level in your Snickers bar, do you think for a second they would let you drink something previous artists have cut body parts off while under the green fairies influence? No! But, this is Georgia, and here you are free to be you. You also are expected to take responsibility for your actions. Local Cha Cha is available everywhere, and its purity is questionable when you buy it out of repurposed Pepsi bottles. The stuff runs about 60 percent pure alcohol so its clean of anything alive but, chemically it is a little risky. Something few locals care about, past doing a spoon burn check. So the imported Absinth is the real deal. I missed leaving my real Absinth spoon back in Canada. A gift from Mr. Antell it was from Finland and very old and I left it in the care of Dimitri with my watches. I made it work, and the hot clouded liquid bit my tongue with a sharp licorice embrace. It took four such potions till the green fairy revealed herself. Less of a fairy really and more like a cloud specter just on the edge of your vision.  I didn’t understand what it was at first until Commander Scotty’s words echoed in my head. “But, It is green.”

    The inspiration arrived, and I scribbled and sketched the book cover. I took pictures wisely thinking I may not be able to interpret this genius while not gripped by this specter’s tutelage. The room got remarkable hot, and I was glad that my tutor had no problem with my near nudity. I forgot to eat. But in a way, I was feeding on my creativity. It was like tossing a brick on the accelerator of a BMW M5 and trying to steer it through the mountains. The wheels eventually always come off. Knowing this I had locked my door and hid the keys when my conscious self-wasn't really paying attention. The morning light did not come easily. I crawled from it like a newly born vampire. I slowly gained the ability to stand and went back to my desk. The notes had survived. The pictures provided illumination and worked as a sort of a self-discovery I didn’t need. However, the cover was done. I was alive.

    So today as a bit of a treat I went to an outside cafe and told you all about it. I am not airing my liver. Who are we kidding the purity of the air would surely kill it. This is what it is to be a writer. So when you are looking at that book on the shelf, and the price know the author bled to create it. Most certainly differently than me. But we bleed the stories we share with you. To imagine the worlds and characters, we become them. We hurt ourselves and often those that love us. It is this to be a writer of fiction.

    The new book will be released shortly. Redemption’s Bullet is ten times the story Grey Redemption is. It is darker, much darker, and tighter because of those that helped/made me edit it over and over again. I am very proud of this book. It is written in blood only for you as you deserve it. A public thanks to testing readers, coerced editors, friends, fans, and family. This would have never been possible without you! A special thanks to Inga the strongest and most loving person I have been gifted with!

Sea Monkeys gave me trust issues. Vancouver to Anapa Russia

   

    I think my trust issues came from Sea Monkey advertising. We all remember the ads in the back of comic books, fun little creatures playing instruments and wearing cool hats. How was this in anyway “truth in advertising”? Targeting the most vulnerable in western society for their hard earned little cash. I remember sending away for them as a kid and getting a yeast-like package. I poured this into a fantastic sea monkey playground and got a few live brine shrimp in a week. I was disappointed. But I learned a lesson far more valuable than the money I spent. I learned that all that is advertised does not show up as advertised! Big corporations could not be trusted to have my best interests at heart and would steal from me if I were stupid enough to believe them. They didn’t take my money they stole the time it took me to earn that money. Back then, a buck to mow the lawn was good money, and it took an hour. Later in life I wouldn’t chase a dollar coin into the gutter, but then…It was perhaps money well invested. I learned the dream of exotic pets cascading in crazy shenanigans was false. I extrapolated that and looked at the Western dream of a white picket fence home.

    You learn to see the fallacy in ads in life and use them to warn you. We have all heard; “If it is too good to be true it probably isn’t”. Could this be the case for the Western Dream? Well, What exactly is two point five kids? Is this one of those warning signs? Is this dream an unattainable reality? It is for many, and I believe many more to come. Does this condemn us to an unhappy life staring at the bowl of bouncing brine shrimp? It doesn’t have to.

 I have a choice to spend my time slaving to pay for that seven hundred thousand dollar mortgage or spend time experiencing life with friends and family. It took me a while to decide to get off the Carousel of stupid and risk everything to live my life and my dream. It took me several tries to find someone bold enough to follow me as well. People advertise what they think you want to have so the created dual delusional non-truth reality is an easy trap to fall into. How many couples divorce after the 2.5 kids have grown up and left? The breakfast table truth that they have spent their time and lives acquiring and paying for a dream designed by the ruling class elite and not one of their own. The new apparent reality as disappointing as dipping a Chocolate Chip cookie into your coffee and realizing it is a Raisin cookie.

Some people like Raisin cookies. I know I love them. My Mom made equally excellent Raisin and Chocolate Chip cookies. She made Raisin more often because they were healthier. So before I took the risk of getting hit with the wooden spoon for stealing one, I always checked. Chocolate Chip was worth getting caught and punished for while Raisin was not. Nothing was more disappointing than getting caught with a mouthful of Raisin cookie when you expected Chocolate and getting a spoon spanking for it!

    Thomas Wolfe said; “You can never go home again.” I loved that book as a teen but until this year never really understood the meaning. I thought I did, like so many other things I thought I knew in my teens. But that topic is a far too long of topic for a blog. I went home, to do one of the two absolutes in life. I am writing this so it wasn’t to die. I needed to do my taxes and like each year I’d left it to the last minute to organize all my receipts. We flew direct from Hong Kong to Vancouver and breaching the gray clouds of the most beautiful city on the coast did not bring the feeling I thought it would.

    Familiarity is a comfortable couch but as in relationships ruined by life and with love lost Vancouver failed to stir my emotions. I landed with relief, both of a long flight home completed, and the city I have known my whole life. I was looking forward to seeing friends, family, and reconnecting with many.  This goal was not adequately achieved, and not for lack of trying on both parts.

Western life is so focused on attaining the Sea Monkey Dream that I found it near impossible to meet everyone that had expressed desire on Facebook to do so. I am not putting anyone at fault for this, rather I am raising it as a check and balance. Is this reality really your Chocolate Chip Cookie? If it is then great, live the dream. If it is not, then change it before that Monday morning breakfast realization!

    We did see and stay with many friends and family and had an incredible time sharing stories, Vodka, food, and emotional connection time that is sadly missing in this digital age. Skype is great, but it is a pale replacement for that beautiful lull in every communication between friends. You know the one the comfortable quiet that occurs when two people, comfortable with each other can just be. Without words or physical contact and feel fine with that moment. I had many of those experiences and feel very blessed to have had so.

    A very rainy two am had us heading back to the airport in Vancouver. We had a six o’clock flight and had to drop off the truck before the airport. Hugs exchanged between friends we were once again traveling, this time to LA and then a few hours later to Russia, and home to Anapa.

We met my nephew Mike in LA and went for an excellent lunch down in Venice Beach. It was the first time he had met Inga and both enjoyed the experience. The long, nearly 13 hour, flight was looming ahead yet I forced myself to relax and be in the moment rather than stress about the flight. I learned this skill in Thailand and was glad for the knowledge. The boarding process was smooth except the US requirement to check boarding passes every thirty-five feet. I am not exaggerating in the least. I think my boarding card was looked at a dozen times and three times in the line to go through security! I could see the confusion on the faces of the Russian travelers around me.

Landing in the afternoon in Moscow was a treat as I usually come in after the sun has vanished for the day. It really is an incredible city and while now familiar didn’t have the comfy couch feel. We made our way to a nearby airport hotel I usually stay at and relaxed and showered. Morning again started early and had us out of bed before sunrise. The process home only a short hop away, and with it the promised Anapa sun.

Moscow in the snow.

     So Inga and I had made the decision to stay in Moscow till the end of the holiday season and spend time with her sister Liana and Liana’s two teenage daughters. Moscow in the winter is like a bear, temperamental and unpredictable.  We arrived at the central Moscow Airport to minus 18 and blizzard like conditions. Coming from sunny Anapa, it was quite a shock as was our landing. It was the first time in my life, and hopefully my last, that I’ve been in a plane that fishtailed on landing. We aren’t just talking a wiggle in the junk either but a full on Dukes Of Hazzard fishtail on touchdown. I was certainly happy to have a Russian pilot on the controls that evening. Due to the storm our luggage took forever to reach the carousel and which exact carousel was in question as well. It changed several times with long blanks between changes. Finally, our stuff came down and we were on our way out of the now familiar airport.

    I often hear qualitative statements about cold. It’s a dry cold, or wet cold. I have never really understood those, so let me make up one of my own. It was a buddy ball liver cold, in that your balls recede up and snuggle with your liver. The scything gusts of the wind reminded you very quickly you need a toque on both your heads if your culture happens to follow the de-toguing practice. Yet the warmth of Apress’s Mercedes was just a quick jaunt across three lanes of traffic and so with anatomy returning to its usual place we made our way to Moscow.

The road has been updated and now you drive right by the mass of cooling towers for the nuclear power plant. Perhaps it is because I grew up with shows like The China Syndrome I find these silent energy sentinels a little foreboding. No one else seems to notice as the conversation is animated and in Russian mixed with Ossetian and I let my attention drift along with the falling snow marveling at the lack of cars in the ditch. Snow like this in the lower mainland all too frequently comes with the ditch decorated by various vehicles.  The trip out to what we would call the suburbs was much quicker on the new road and we arrived at my sister in laws house and to a much-needed meal.

   

Moscow is an incredible city both in size and culture. But perhaps what makes it most amazing is its History. The buildings contrast between Soviet-era block apartments and grand palaces and churches. The scale of some of these public spaces is hard to believe and the architecture breathtaking. The locals seem to pay them as much attention as they do the cooling towers I mentioned earlier. I guess you get used to what you have. The western influence on Moscow is easy to see in fashion and gadgets. More so in talking to locals about perceived value of some products. This kind of conversation has come around more frequently as a result of the economic sanctions imposed on the country and the connected falling Ruble.

    Russians just seem to believe Western products are better than Russian ones simply by virtue of being Western. A Dodge Colt is held above a Lada despite the Lada having definite build advantages and easy, cheap access to parts.  When I tell them I don’t see too many 1973 Colts driving around Vancouver yet I do see lots of Ladas from that time here, they see it oddly. They perceive I am saying we are rich hence no old cars and them as a people are not. It is only when I drag the conversations back to the original point of build quality and longevity of the product do they get my point. Yet despite this they still have a hard time with the concept. Advertising from the west, as well as marketing, is what I believe to be the difference. To say it is better or slicker is like comparing western ads from the sixties to those we will see at the next Super Bowl. Product marketing is not quite as bad but not up to the challenge either.  As an example, Aeroflot has a frequent flyer program that is better when compared with the ones in the west. However, their marketing of the product is so culturally locked and Russian language biased that they can’t hope to compete in the global market. Significant route changes and deals for award-point flights are sent to Russian speaking members, but not those that ticked the English box. Inga’s account gets significant communication in Russian, but my mailbox is empty. Even when they canceled the Toronto to Moscow direct flight in October they didn’t send out a notification to me. All, I see, are the save 2 percent on your next ticket purchase email that comes with my flight confirmation letter. Even this 2% that I've never used as it isn't mobile device friendly hits wrong with Western clients. Perceived value, loyalty recognition, and appreciation are very culturally biased and they have really missed the mark. Even their tier structure is based on a calendar year and not a year with them. So if you joined later in the year but flew 24 thousand miles, come January first you go back to zero with everyone else. The focus remaining large and general, rather than on the individual. Missing the point that discounts don’t attract Westerners to a frequent flyer programs individually focused service and commitment does. So despite having better service, much better food, and drinks, and the best route they had to cancel service from Toronto due to lack of passengers. No Aeroflot you lost the game out of the gate, culturally hamstrung like the Lada you can’t compete.

I don’t want these examples to look like I am bashing Aeroflot, Lada, or Russians! I am not saying they are bad, to be truthful they are better. I picked them to provide the example that while Russia may have a free market economy the global cultural differences are very vast. To compete in the world market, a company needs to get that.

    One Russian company that did get this is YotaPhone. They released an Android based phone designed by Russians, incorporating Russian thinking, and released it on a Global scale. The biggest selling point is it has two displays. As a westerner, I think ok pretty gimmicky, back and front displays make it hard to put in a case, easy to break, and why? So I checked out the website a very long time ago and then they rolled out the ad campaign, and I got it. I got it two ways actually, from a westerner living in Russia and knowing access to power can sometimes be a challenge and from a form and function design point of view. Then this company took the phone to the Consumer Electronics Show in Vegas! The average Russian doesn’t know much about CES and the phone isn’t even for sale in the USA yet, and they really can’t hope to make inroads into that market share if it was for sale! BRAND RECOGNITION is why and they got more than recognition the YotaPhone2 Won!

So not every Russian company is locked into this old way of thinking but like in Canada the bigger giants are slow to change and adapt to global world economy than the new ones.  Perhaps even one-day Russian tourists will just stand in line at airport check in, luggage and passport in hand, and not a plastic protector carrying a sheaf of papers. “This is the modern digital age." If the Russian economy wants to be more immune from outside influence, it needs to boost its’ marketing. I bought a YotaPhone 2  because it works better for my needs than an iPhone 6. My sister in law’s kids really were at a loss to why until they saw the ads and I explained it. RUSSIA YOU MAKE GREAT STUFF, you always have made excellent products. The western companies just got better at propaganda and marketing than you ever were.

    So aside from buying expensive Russian phones and discussing Global economic structures and differences I went on a picnic in the snow. If you have been following this blog for a while you, will know that BBQ’s and social time is huge in Russian culture. So is discussing significant issues but I’ve already done all of that for this blog. The weather is so unpredictable that our plans had to be very fluid and luckily life in Moscow allows for that.

Inga and her Sister Liana set to putting stuff together one morning and before I knew what exactly was going on Apress was at the door and we were loading the car. It was warmer this morning about –12 metric and the snow had covered everything not walked or driven on in a gorgeous blanket of silk. We drove about ten minutes to a large park and unloaded. Apress had invited three of his friends to meet the Canadian and join in a winter BBQ celebrating the holiday season.  The three guests had arrived early and had a BBQ going and vodka chilling in the abundant snow. I was greeted in the warm fashion and with hands shook and names attempted we set to enjoying the day. Toasts were enjoyed and with the meat cooking, we discussed life, the universe, and our world. With a smattering of English, a dash of Russian and a splash of Vodka we all eventually understood each other and when it got past hand gestures Inga was there to translate.

The friends Apress invited were all great guys and really went out of their way to make me feel welcome. They all said hello in English first and this show of respect was not missed by me. I returned the respect by speaking as much Russian as I could whenever I could during the day.  What I find really cool is everyone knows what to do at a gathering like this. Each person picks a job and without any direction sets to making food, laying out tables, and getting everything ready. No one has to ask what to do. Back home this task sometimes takes on the feeling of a board meeting and can be as equally enjoyable.  In Russia, people are used to these types of social gatherings and just as they ignore the stuff I’ve pointed out earlier really miss this luxury as well. Society here is actually designed to spend time with friends in public places and engage with each other something the West could really learn from.

    A trip to Moscow in the winter would not be complete without a visit to Red Square. Russia really goes all out for this time of celebration and it actually comments on the culture and character of these people that despite the challenges the focus is fun and inclusive, focusing on what they do have and all things positive. A breath of relief and fresh air actually. The fireworks were measured in tons and no doubt so was the vodka. People on the street shook stranger's hands and wished them Happy New Year. The lights and decorations are something that should really be on everyone’s bucket list as is seeing the Kremlin itself. To be honest, I am not a big church and Icon kind of person. But the sheer size, age, and drama of the structures and design is incredible. So is the history these buildings hold, it confirms the things I’ve come to know about the Russian people. They are warm and generous, and proud to a fault with every right to be so!

    So with this Blog I close the chapter in Russia. I have done all the research I needed to do to make the next book rich with people, places, and culture. Thank you, Rodina for being exactly what you are and nothing like I expected. Thanks to all my friends in Anapa, Vladikavkaz,  and Moscow for your warm and honest hospitality. Finally thank you to my Russian family, without whom none of this would have been remotely possible!

Next stop Thailand and Chiang Mai…..

Russian Celebrations and Parties!

Hey Everyone, Ok it has been almost a month since I last wrote.  I have a bunch of good stuff to let you in on, or at least I think it is good stuff that you’ll enjoy reading. I have been posting a fair bit of things on my public Facebook account about trusting the news and stuff that some may construe as a conspiracy theory ideology. I really don’t think that it actually falls into that genre of writing, but I am comfortable with the moniker if people still look at it and make up their own ideas.

I try not to push any ideology or attempt to change minds on this forum. I do a great deal of research and as a result of this study find interesting tidbits of information. Sometimes I share this on Facebook and other times I just keep it for the book. Well, most correctly the current MSS that will one day be shaved down to be a sequel to Grey Redemption. Yes, I am writing! Ok, so to keep this tight I will try to avoid the rambling style of that last two blogs.

Most Russians really like America/Canada culture. They haven’t met too many Canadians and I am trying to maintain that polite reputation we have all over the world. What I find really odd about Russian views on our two countries is that they seem to easily separate our political ideology, and the things we do guided by that ideology, and the people. To be more correct they easily separate our personal culture from our ideological culture. It is quite a feat if you think about it and something we Western cultures fail to be able to do. We lump it all together and racially stereotype the whole by the actions of a few or by the few powerful. Russians don’t and while educated on the west more than we are educated about them, still have odd beliefs.

I will use Rostik, a magnificent friend of mine, as an example. He honestly believes his life would be better in Canada than it is here in Anapa. Anapa is, you know if you read my blog, a resort city on the Black Sea and is truly beautiful. Comprised mostly of Armenians and Russians it is by most Russian standards a very affluent city. There is some dissent among the ethnically different people, but on the whole they get along. If you read the blog, you know Rostik recently married and he and his new wife have a very lovely one bedroom apartment and are miles ahead of any couple I know living in Vancouver. If you add to the equation their jobs and then compare it to life in Vancouver or the surrounding valley, they would be renting for life. They would never be able to own something and raise a family as they are doing here. I am not suggesting they haven’t got good jobs or are in anyway lazy. Quite the contrary actually, they work very hard and save on par with my mother. But we all know if your household income is below a hundred grand a year Vancouver is out of the equation, if you intend on having a stay at home spouse.  Here that goal is easily reached and without the use of credit.

I have been in credit hell as has most North Americans. Some learn right away how to use credit and others, like me, take a little longer to internalize that lesson.  That isn’t something that people do here. Credit is hard to get and for the most part not culturally used.

I explained these things to him and how our taxation system works and he still has this view that Canada would be the place to live. Then I ask him why he thinks I came to Anapa. This is the only thing that causes him to have some doubts.

Don’t read into this that I dislike Canada or that I don’t love living in one of the most beautiful places on earth. I am not suggesting anything like this. I am just pointing out that Canada and life in Canada, is very expensive by any standard. While it is true that Moscow is one of the most expensive cities to live in the comparison isn’t really about house prices. The added costs of utilities and tax-like surcharges add up to severely deplete one's disposable income. The culture of buying new everything and owning a car for each member of the household furthers this personal drain.

Russia has a flat tax, no added sales taxes, and a culture of reduce, reuse, and recycle. It is not uncommon to see a Lada made in the CCCP days rolling down the road. Designer fashion is in, but hey Adidas tracksuits aren’t expensive.  Seriously, see I poke fun at Russians too, fashion is important and people do save to buy the "in" shoes or shirts but you don’t have too. So long as the stuff you are wearing is clean, and taken care of, the requirement to fit in is largely not fashion based. When guests come over they do so to see you, and they ALWAYS bring a sweet, bottle, or something to enjoy with you as they visit. They really are just friends and do not care what they sit on while they share your company.  It is a different way of life from the average Canadian one. I am not saying one is better than the other, which is for you to decide, but it is less expensive.

 December brings the start of the holiday season, running the gambit of religious and cultural observances. For me it also brings an anniversary and birthdays. As this was our first anniversary, we wanted to stay in Russia and celebrate the occasion with Inga’s family. Las Vegas is a long way away for them and so they couldn’t actually make the trip for the wedding so we wanted to have a big party here in Anapa. We also share three birthdays in December and so we decided to roll them all together and toss a huge party instead of heading for the warmth of South East Asia.

It is really very inexpensive to have this type of party in Anapa. Restaurants are used to large gatherings and have set menu pricing that allow you to bring your own drinks. Celebrations are a common thing and everyone gets caught up in the atmosphere of fun. We picked a date and I flew Inga’s sister out for the fun from Moscow after we received word Mom and Dad were on the train from Vladikavkaz.

So with 13 for dinner and toasts flowing, we shared a multimedia show of the wedding and the year from when we met till we arrived in Moscow. It was a blast and everyone had a great time. Another birthday party was going on as well and we all joined together dancing and celebrating. It was only after the party that I was told of a little racism issue.

Russia is vast and has many ethnic, religious, and cultural differences. So big that the USA, Spain, and France could fit in Siberia alone! Despite all coming from Russia, many people still describe themselves regionally. For example, my wife describes herself as Ossetian and chides me when I say she is Russian. But for me it is like saying you’re a BC person and not a Canadian. Canada is huge as well and we all just say we’re Canadians, rarely breaking it down to ethnic regions. Russia is a little different as there are ethnic traditions between the areas. This being said I was oblivious to any real racism, until that night.

The Kavkaz  region includes Georgia, Armenia, and Azerbaijan. The Russian areas include Krasnodar Krai, Stavropol Krai, and the autonomous republics of Adygea, Karachay–Cherkessia, Kabardino-Balkaria, North Ossetia, Ingushetia, Chechnya, and Dagestan. Three territories in the region claim independence but are not recognized by any independent states and these are Abkhazia, Nagorno-Karabakh, and South Ossetia.

The owner of the restaurant had initially agreed that, as her live music person was in Moscow, the DJ would play anything we wanted. On
the night of the party she commented that she hated Kavkaz music and wanted to charge100 rubles a song. I only found out about this after the party but what is very odd is this owner grew up in Siberia and the restaurant is in Krasnodar Krai! What makes this more bizarre is the birthday party, which was going on at the same time, was attended by mostly young Chechen boys here to study at the technology college. They joined us on the dance floor and toasted us and ours.   Ossetians, Georgians, Chechens, Armenians, Russians, and Canadians dancing together having a great time despite the painful history some of them share. Then one person from a vast distance away, having no connection to the historical pain and recent immigrant into the Kavkaz area sows old hatred. Hatred and history many, if not most, have moved past for the greater good. Some things remain the same no matter which country you find yourself living in.

Mom, Dad and Liana Stayed with us and together we had a good time. Dad set himself busy fixing little, yet annoying, issues in the apartment and I helped as I could. Reminded me of my own father, never able to sit still and just enjoy a lazy day. Mom made all my favorite Ossetian dishes with Inga and Liana’s help and we enjoyed my birthday on the day, even though I thought we had done the combined thing. My birthday present from Inga was some new ink for my arm and a great wind breaker.

The lull between those celebrations and the upcoming exodus to Thailand seems like a long one, but that’s deceptive. Christmas will be a quiet one with just Inga and I relaxing with each other. Then we have the first New Years to enjoy with friends here on the 31st before traveling to the cold of Moscow to celebrate the Russian New Year in the heart of Russia.  Then it is off to Thailand for three months in the jungle, doing research and lots of writing! Stay tuned for more updates and perhaps a rant or two.

Merry Christmas to those that observe, Happy Holidays to the others, and Best Dead Turkey Day to the rest.

London VISA run part one

Well, Monday morning has once again come to Anapa and finds me back in the Russian Federation with a new one-year multiple entry/exit visa. Don’t ask how I was able to secure such a rare visa as I will just have to use the Russian saying; “I know a guy.” Life here is like this to some degree. Friends help friends around the hoops and pitfalls that exist within the system. It is difficult for foreigners to grasp and harder still to participate. Russians warm slowly to new friends and I understand why. The expectation associated with the word friend has an entirely different meaning here. I am lucky enough to understand that from my home perspective as I have those expectations from my Canadian friends, and them from me, but I understand this is the exception rather than the rule at home. Here it is the rule.

So last week found me explaining to my Mom how things were and that I would be staying a little longer than my initial three months. Securing this type of visa could only be done in Europe. This type of visa allows me to fly home and back without the added headache of renewing and canceling existing visas as you can only have one visa active at any time. It also allows for free movement that is not allowed if I were to start a temporary resident process. So with the situation explained and the course decided on plans were set into action.

Flights out of Anapa during the height of the tourist season are as would be expected expensive. So Inga’s sister suggested flying out of Krasnodar. Krasnodar is the third largest Russian city and about three hours by bus away from the resort city of Anapa.  Promised easy connections had me feeling a little uncertain and having lived in Russia for three months I decided on leaving a day early and taking the opportunity to visit this Cossack city.

            We arrived at the Anapa city bus station, tickets in hand, an hour before our bus was scheduled to depart and it was obvious to me from the throngs of people that something was slightly amiss. Inga tried to figure out what was going on and despite speaking Russian had very little initial success. We were told that our bus was delayed till 1130, an hour and a half delay. About forty minutes later an announcement was made that the bus had broken down and passengers holding tickets had to get new tickets for a later bus. Inga went off with the mass of other passengers and got in line for new tickets. She returned with two tickets, costing slightly more, for a three pm departure. Welcome to Russia I thought. They cancel a trip, then an hour later tell people to get new tickets and after lining up for forty minutes charge you more money. If Russia is ever to attract international travelers they really have to get better at these types of things. Moreover, if the city of Anapa wants to keep the internal visitors that come to the Black Sea resort they have to address this as well. Many people we had been waiting with were now going to miss flights, trains, and bus connections. This also makes the "taxis" offering trips more tempting and these money focused drivers tend to push it, knowing they can make two trips loaded with non discounted fares.   Pushing it on the road from Anapa to Krasnodar is a very dangerous proposition. But people forced with cheap tickets that could not be changed took the risk. We waited, and Inga gave her place in line to a couple so they could arrive in time for the train. We could wait as I had secured us reservations at a nice hotel in Krasnodar for the evening.

sitting with missed flights and trains and other connections with the three to five-hour delay. This situation also added to the aggressive “taxi” trade with offers to get you there increasing in price and danger. A mini bus driver could now make two trips at high fares if he pushed it!

We arrived in Krasnodar and I forced us to take an expensive taxi to the hotel, having had my fill of a more frugal Russian style of transportation. The Hilton was like any other Hilton in the world, something I didn’t like or appreciate until this trip. I walked up to the front desk and spoke English and expected to be understood. I was and the desk staff was as organized and customer focused as any other Hilton in the world. It was refreshing and after a day of slow taxis, missed buses and hours of waiting. We checked in, handing our passports in to be registered, a custom still followed in places and retired to our room. It was clean and like any other Hilton in the world. While before this banal cookie cutter styling, and American focused décor would have irked me. This time it was a caress and I found myself feeling oddly guilty at needing this type of pampering. I took a long shower in the rainfall style separated glass shower and relaxed.

            Changed and freshly scrubbed we did what we usually liked to do and went for a walk. It was the weekend and the local main street turns into a “walking street” after the evening rush. Bikers, skaters, and walkers share the wide old streets in a very festive atmosphere. We walked north and directly across the street from the Hilton is a statue of two oddly dressed dogs made famous in

Mayakovsky's charming, playful poem about Krasnodar. We continued toward one of the old orthodox churches and noticed vendor after vendor selling honey. I had no idea that there were this many types of honey. The shops, if placed together, would have stretched half a kilometer. Along with these vendors were other vendors selling the usual and some unusual trinkets. One shop had two tables of weird art deco style lamps, ashtrays, and objects of art. One shop was serving coffee and as I had yet to discover the Starbucks that was rumored to be near I ordered a large coffee. It was a buck Canadian and rich, dark, and superb.

            We discovered a park, just before the gold topped church and a large monument and fountain. The wedding had taken place and the party was getting photographs done near the trees and fountain. There were also large groups of fresh young military types in pressed green camouflage uniforms and polished boots. I imagine that the training academy is close by but with the hostilities and Canada’s cooperation with the USA I did feel comfortable enough to ask. 

 

The fountain was pretty as fountains go and to the west was a massive monument. When we got close, I asked Inga to tell me what it was commemorating. She tired but it was written in Old Russian and she found it difficult. It had soldiers and Mongolian looking men with swords and musical instruments. On the fountain side, I noticed a British uniform and from the style and medals could ascertain it was from the Second World War.  Together we were able to decipher that it was the British and Cossack forces commemorating the lives lost in the war.

We walked back up the street past our hotel to the south and enjoyed two outside concerts. One was a traditional Cossack singing and the other a twenty piece brass band playing swing favorites of the twenties. There were lots of advertising for upcoming concerts and they were doing all the usual suspects from Macbeth to Kiss of the Spider Woman. Culturally Krasnodar seems to have a lot on offer and I did spot the Starbucks while we were walking south.

We returned to the hotel and Inga and I enjoyed a nice dinner in the hotel. It had pricing usual to non-Russian countries in that the food had a set price and was not sold by grams. I had a hamburger famous in the Hilton chain and was surprised to learn I could have it with beef, lamb, or chicken.  Inga had some duck spring rolls and we shared some nice wine. It was a perfect end after a stressful and trying start that made me glad I had learned how to travel inside Russia

 

            The next morning found us heading to the airport, which is about a thirty-five minute cab ride worth about 900 rubles. You can take minibuses, public transport, and trolley buses for a fraction of that but my frugality was about to be shattered in London so we went for a taxi. The car was clean, new, and the driver polite and professional. We arrived three hours ahead of time, as I was still stuck in North American practices and airports. We could have slept another two hours. Inga and I spent an hour together relishing the time as two people in love do when they both know they have to be apart for a while. The call came that the gate was open and I walked over to the first-class line and boarded being slightly chided by Inga, who was until then unaware I had booked the departure as first class.  I smiled that petulant and mischievous smile and kissed her saying I loved her and would see her soon. I walked down that first-class corridor, with its own security and screening and into the lounge without looking back. I knew if I did I would burst into tears and this was not culturally acceptable.

Culturally Russia

     I was reminded; today by Robert Dugoni that one of the best things about being a writer is the research. If you've been following this blog, you know I am in Russia doing research for the next book in the series with Rhys Munroe. Why did I need to travel all this way and bare the expense is something the taxman may ask me, and something I asked myself.

Before I got here, I don't think I could have answered that question accurately. I mean I have Google maps and street view I could have done all this research sitting at home. At least those were my thoughts prior to getting here. Now I know it would have been a very bland account. Russia has a very rich and complicated history and culture. Even now after three months in the country I am just scratching the surface of this. My grasp of the language is still minimal, but my understanding of the culture is much better. Like a deaf person who is able to see better because of his lack of hearing my ability to understand body language and glean meaning via these observations are far superior to how it used to be. The Russian people and country are, for the most part, very misunderstood in the western world. Simple things like eye contact are ruled by culture. There is an old Russian saying. "A person that sees less lives longer." This saying and behavior is carried forward into the  day to day interactions on the street. You can look at the person coming toward you but if your gaze does more than linger you force the person you're looking at to access why. Eye contact is supposed to be only brief with strangers. These behaviors may be similar in certain subcultures in Western society, like gangs, but unlike subculture modalities it is common here.

Sometimes as a foreigner I forget. A very tall women wearing five inch heels on very uneven streets may catch my attention if I look too long she is forced to figure out why I am "staring." Now in western culture a stare is a look that lingers for say twenty seconds. In Russia, that time frame drops to about seven seconds. So I am trying to keep my thousand yard stare while allowing my perception to record the subtle observations and nuances of the scene I am viewing. As in the above example; how can she possibly walk on these streets with those heels and what kind of pain is she going through for fashion?

     Fashion and dress are another culture difference that was hard to get a grasp on. Neither women nor men just toss something on to go out. While it is a stereotype that Russians overdress for everything, it is partly true. But it is through our eyes and western perception that we judge this as overdressed. The importance of being successful and taking pride in what they do is part of this. The change Perestroika forced on them created a world that was hard in judgment.  If you weren't successful, it was because you were lazy or not trying hard enough. You were all of a sudden free to pursue whatever dream you had and could rise above your birth station in life. We in the western world have long understood that while every child born in America or Canada can rise to be the leader of the country time has tempered this ideology with understanding. Perestroika is still fresh and that temper has yet to take. While we in the west see it as a great thing here, the jury is still out.

This was one of the hardest things for me as a westerner to understand. I mean freedom is held as one of our most-sacred things. So as I was doing research and came to suspect that the average Russian didn't value the new Russia as I did, I had questions.

I asked this question to my good friend and, brother from another mother. He said simply; "Go walking in a graveyard and look at the ages of the ones you find there." I have done this on a few occasions now and I understand what he meant. Russia was handed this freedom without a "how to" manual. It tore a bloody swath through the youth of the land. That revolution was hardly reported on in the western world and the price for these new opportunities was huge. An entire age group barely survived the change.

 Now it is oddly karmic that it was Marx that said "only true change comes through violent (and bloody) revolution."  But what was stranger still to me as a westerner was most local average Russians do not view this as the Great Event it was touted as in the west! They are happy for their new-found freedoms and opportunities, but direction is still missing. The west is still viewed in less than accurate light. When I explain our taxation system and size of our government, I am greeted with stares that reflect a disbelief. Canada is still viewed by Russians as the land of great riches and opportunities. While this is partly true explaining the reality of taxes and houses priced in multi-millions of rubles is greeted with astonishment. Long waits for healthcare and surgery are openly viewed with suspicion. Education and post-secondary grants and structure are past easy translation. Like explaining to a colourblind person what is the colour blue.

Simple and very obvious questions about supporting tomorrow's leaders and researchers are past my ability to explain. The actions of my government in these regards are basically an embarrassment and something past my ability to convey. How do I explain to someone that respects the elderly and supports the efforts of children to learn that we in Canada spend over a hundred thousand US dollars a year to incarcerate a bank robber while allowing our pensioners to live below the poverty line?  That highly trained Officers in jail check on these pieces of social garbage every forty-five minutes overnight to ensure they are alive while my grandmother in an old age home is checked only twice during the night? These are concepts past easy understanding in my culture, yet they are reality and the reality that I can't explain. I mean does the average Canadian actually support this? No! But we lack the ability to change it. While our elected and appointed leaders are supposed to listen to the people there is a severe disconnect. In comparison; Prime Minister Putin actually has a time he takes questions and suggestions live on the air from average Russians. I would love to see my own Prime Minister Harper respond to questions from average Canadians. I mean he is responsible to us the taxpayers, right? These disconnects between the people and the government are far more vast at home than here in Russia.

 Some other observations that are not so politically loaded are the Russian Peoples acceptance. I have discussed this a little bit in other blog entries but let us spend some time exploring this idea. I speak very little Russian and while I am initially viewed as Russian when the truth is discovered it is viewed with a mixture of panic and interest. Panic because the person I am interacting with is now concerned they can't understand what I need. Compare that to the exasperation or outright contempt when most westerners encounter someone who doesn't speak English. When they get past that initial panic and understand that however we need to work it out, we will the interest sets in. They want to know where I am from and how I like it here in Russia. They don't assume that this is the best place on earth and I find that so refreshing.

At this point the broken English, Russian, and Google translate is mixed with a dynamic game of charades and, working together, we understand each other and get past the barrier of language.  This is viewed as fun for my Russian counterparts and they actually delight in the sounds and motions I have to go through to get my point across. The perception is joy interacting with another culture, rather than being inconvenienced by a fucking foreigner that is taking up far too much time.

This is not to say Russia or Russians are perfect. Lots of things are different or get under my skin being here. Time and boundaries are issues for my new Russian friends. The basic infrastructure of things and the way of doing things are different and as such a challenge. But perhaps most of all is the simple clearing of tables. You have to hang on to your drink as glasses left mostly consumed will be taken away.  Sometimes it's the little things in life that irritate you and can't we all be thankful for that!

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.

The first post from the other side of the Ring.

   So life is settling down to the regular pattern of things you have to do, things that you need to do, and things that need doing. Intermixed is the obvious stuff I should be writing. I have a great excuse my very old and most favourite Mac is having issues. I know what is causing it now but making the time to take it offline for a few days to get it fixed is an issue. I upgraded my HD to an SSD and they, whom in the past were awesome, spliced into one of my fan lines for power and so now I overheat and freeze. Makes it difficult to write. Frustration is not something you want during the creative process.

   Married life is treating me well. We are in a state of flux as plans call for a big move and downsizing of non essential stuff. Now downsizing isn't new for me at all. In fact I have downsized a great deal already. But like most things in life there is downsizing and then there is DOWNSIZING. I need to pack my life up into two 25 kilo cubes of very specific measurements. So it is a great deal different than moving from a house to an apartment. But if I am to be honest the experience is very liberating. What is a must keep, should keep, like to keep, and can't live without. Then evaluate and reengineer the space and start again. To say it is a exercise in being frugal is like comparing a Lambo to a Kia. Kind of not on the same planet. But it progresses slowly and this old 17 powerbook will be replaced by a new 13 inch soon and so that drops me x kilos....Daunting!

   Russian New Years. For those readers that are not Russian, suffice to say it happens at a different time but; "when in rome". So this celebration is held on the first like our own. But unlike ours it is most certainly a knock down drag out party. The sense is how you bring in the new year will dictate how your year will be. The better the party the better the year to follow. Follow? Ok so this event has pressure on it from the start. Well, it was an epic event. Full of drinking, dancing, and general wishes for an awesome year. Oddly it was spent meeting new people, with different customs all with the same goal. An accurate reflection of our year to come. It started at 6pm and went till 6am, time spent filled with food, vodka, brandy, friends, dancing, and culture. The only casualty of the evening was my under trained liver. Seems my abstinence of late left me woefully disadvantaged, and when I awoke it let me know it wasn't happy. But the liver is evil and should be punished!

   I got to see a good number of friends over the holidays and miss a great deal more. Time has always been a thief yet as things move quickly along it seems to be more of one. I try to keep up a little bit using the inadequate tools afforded us with social media. But I will endeavor to make more time to see everyone. Going to be a long trip to see anyone next year! So with that promise or perhaps resolution made I will leave you to your own lives.

  Have a great year everyone!