Book Reviews and Plans of greater Adventure

Traveling the world is great. But it comes with some challenges. These are pretty much invisible if you’re just doing the tourist thing. The release of Redemption’s Bullet has made me much aware of these issues. The new website had to be created, and this meant interaction with designers in different time zones. Vision is a personal thing, and the communication of those ideas is a difficult process without the added challenge of doing everything via email. Inga and I are returning to Russia for the summer, and that included the usual hoops of getting a visa to enter the Russian Federation. This was my third such visa application, so I am well versed in the process. Being able to read Russian and understand the sentence structure was a real benefit. ScottDCovey

The book released in Europe first, then America, and finally Canada. I had to stay on top of the timing to ensure no issues in the distribution pipeline occurred. The first review was from a European fan, and it went live in America about the same time it got published in Europe. It took several more days to show up on the Canadian side. But it is there now.

I don’t believe in paid reviews. I have talked about this before but, I think it needs to be mentioned again. Book reviews from reviewers or worse from other authors are deceptive. If a publisher asks one of their authors to review a book by a junior writer how honest can it be? They both have the same boss, and the purpose of the boss’s company is to sell books. So how realistic is the review? I have a few friend reviews on my first book, but each of those people said in the review they were friends of mine. Honest reviews are from regular people that buy the book and post a review. I like this policy that Amazon and Apple has. 

Redemption’s Bullet got a little more exposure this time, and it has a couple of Blog reviews. This helps the book show up in search engines. It helps interested readers find it and me through the new website. I applied the same rules as Amazon’s policy. I didn’t pay for the review. The reviewer bought his copy of the book, and I had no influence on what they wrote. The review is found here.  

http://columbusfriends.org/books/redemptions-bullet/

And here 

http://ebook-gift.com/books/redemptions-bullet/

I will copy and past the reviewers impressions for you inside this blog without any editing as I want it to remain truthful. 

Review of Redemption’s Bullet by Columbus Book Friends.

“The story starts with old sea containers being used as drone flight centers. I liked the description of dirty socks and rotten tulips. Those unique details are what engage me into a story. Another thing that I find interesting about this story is that it's not a "rags to riches" or coming up from the bottom type of story. Instead, the story starts with the character already being a dictator of a country (with much of the press hating him). The inciting incident (the event causing the tension and chaos) is that the 'New World Order' (using USA equipment) attacks this dictator and his family. As you might expect, there is a lot of swearing in this book. I am fine with that. One thing that made me pause for a few moments is that the dialog doesn't seem to be broken up properly. I am used to a style where each person says a few lines, followed by a line break. In this book, you can expect full paragraphs of conversation. That makes several of the characters come off as "chatty". Lucky for readers, such as myself, there is a bunch of action throughout the book. This book does not fail to deliver on action (or hold back on how far it will go)!”

As you can read the review, I take Rhys way out on the curve in this darker series book. It also makes me think; “did I go too far with the countess?”

It is an honest, independent review and I like it. I look forward to the reviews independent fans will post and the ones from friends. Only my family is prohibited from posting reviews. The rest of you are free and encouraged to post what you thought. Good or bad. 

My friend Bekka and I at Davidoff Cigar Tbilisi

On a more personal side, I will be once again attempting to start the resident process in Russia so the current visa is the last visa I will have to apply for. I love the Russian people and the idea of society they share. This doesn’t mean I won't be returning to Canada. I will, I promise. Inga and I have been looking already and have decided on a neighborhood. Past the next four months, our plans are fluid. 

I saw a post on Facebook about a guy who drove a Jeep from Calgary Alberta to the top of Alaska and then turned around and drove to the tip of South America. It was a cool post that embodied the nomadic lifestyle. It gave me the idea of doing the same thing, but harder. Why not Russia? I will pitch the idea to the Russian company that owns the rights to sell Jeeps in the Russian Federation. Inga is game. But, then when isn’t she game to do anything her crazy husband comes up with. The basic idea is to travel from Moscow to Vladikavkaz the southern most point. Luckily Inga can speak that language. Then turn north to Anapa and Crimea. Following the northern edge of the country through Siberia and down to Kamchatka. Finally ending in Vladivostok, we would have to charter a boat to get across to continue the drive in Canada. I think it would be a great trip and an even better sales venue for both Jeep Russia and Jeep Canada. Although I think Americans and Canadians alike will be jealous of the Russian 2.8 turbo diesel. The Jeep that drove the two largest countries in the world. 

This odyssey would tie in well with the piece of NonFiction I’ve been working on. Thinking about how we live life and how most other people live life has gone from comparisons to convictions. When Inga and I were looking at homes in BC, the key ideas were simple, small, and supportive. Communities that didn’t require you to drive to the gym or grocery store. 

Many species migrate. Genetically programmed they pick up and make a journey. We humans used to do the same thing. The First Nations people in Canada were migratory to some extent. It is hard to think that perhaps we are still driven by that biological coding. But if you’re honest with yourself I think you’ll find other examples of these biological drives. Midlife Migration is the working title for this MSS, and it has been fun to write.

It perhaps shows a little to much about the author, But, real confidence is showing up naked and telling people what you think. So while only one person wants to see me naked I think you all like reading about my rather warped sense of the world,  right? 

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.

To one of the Dead Cities

    There are still areas in Russia that are forbidden to tourists. But then those areas are pretty much forbidden to locals too. Some areas need special permission permits and paperwork to insure you don’t get lost, hurt, or preyed upon by the wildlife. This is not so different than Canada. We too have areas like this and while the locals at home are pretty much unaware of these restrictions, the people here are not.

So venturing into the mountains close to the disputed border of Georgia along the main roads is fine but taking the path less traveled is a little riskier. Having made the trip into Georgia, and seeing these gorgeous mountains had me doing research into the types and composition. Along the way, I found out that this area was kind of part of the Silk Road in ancient times. The Ossetian leopard and other local furs where coveted the world over by Kings and other royals alike. Access to the Black Sea gave this pass a great deal of traffic along the lowland and much gentler slopes than the ones directly south.

But ancients and armies both adore easy rolling hills and so this specific pass was one of those areas if not forbidden to tourists then to use a Russian saying “not easy."  Yet, I really wanted to see it. Dargavs is one of the most famous or well known but our chances of being questioned and detained was high. The locals shunned the area based on superstitions held as real today as then. However, grave robbers did frequent the area and disturbed the dead and locals alike. Ossetians placed coins; some of them gold, in wells outside of these crypts and so some would be drawn to steal from these dead. Some later crypts contained mothers still with babies in cribs both going into quarantine to protect the village and so you can imagine the locals outrage at the discovery of these being disturbed.

We decided to go to a different area that contained these Nakh towers and crypts. One of our local friends had friends of his own in this village and knew the area well. It is in the same mountain range as Dargavs about three hours from Vladikavkaz. The day was cold and overcast in city and we drove through the mist and fog through small towns and smaller villages. We took an unmarked side road that followed the river and as we drove through the trees silvered with ice, I noticed the outside temperature was rising. It had showed –5 in the city and was now hovering around 0. As the car climbed higher, the rivers path became more spectacular, cutting deep twists and creating tall pillars in the mountainside. Asland our friend and driver pointed out interesting formations with increased frequency and when we turned a corner into the shining sun, I looked at the temperature and saw it was +5 degrees. The man’s name and connection to the famous book The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe only added to my increasing sense of amazement.

Like so much of history in Russia, it is difficult to get a “searchable” three-source answer to things.  Some say these Nakh towers date back to the 16th Century and others 12th. Some maintain the Nakh people built them all and others claim that the Alania-Ossetian people of the time simply copied the design. What is certain is that they were used as burial chambers and as quarantine structures. What had caused many villagers to get sick was also in question but from talking with locals and research the most frequent use was from an outbreak of cholera.

There had been a cholera outbreak and entire families had been moved from the river floor and village site and walled up in sick houses and towers on the surrounding hills. Left to die in quarantine, or survive, as the gods they worshiped dictated. Their friends and family brought food and delivered it via long poles and small windows.  Perhaps a dour reason to wish to see a place on the face of it but let me continue, part of survival as a society and species are making hard choices. This concept is used very well in the popular TV drama The Walking Dead. Our modern society has gotten used to the easy life it has provided us and so these life and death hard choices create massive tension between humanity and societal continuance.

Just like in the TV Drama these early Russians were faced with extinction as they had no idea how to deal or control this event. Cholera today is easily treated yet it still kills in Africa and I have personally witnessed a cholera outbreak and the effects on the village. So I can only imagine what these early people would have thought as they watched their loved ones bowels let go and they starting wasting away. It is easy to draw a connection to the Zombie fiction or the Ebola nonfiction. Families want to care for the sick, and the sick wished to be cared for. If quarantined and gripped with fever and fear they long for comfort and connection returning to homes and villages if they can. Spreading the infection and death as they do. 

The ancient people knew, or learned, this and took steps to survive. Hard steps and harder choices, none were spared, the sick to a person where exiled or went on their own to protect loved ones. Many mothers took their babies in cribs into these stone buildings.

Despite their age, the structures survive in relatively good repair. The site is a sacred one, remembered by the locals. The church and monastery are located on the valley floor and symbols and icons stare in remembrance toward the location of the sick towers. The towers themselves still stand and while certainly in dangerous states of decay they’re a somber sentinel to a strong people.

The towers are four stories high and  stretch in a line up the mountainside with newer stone single story buildings assembled at their base. Cows and sheep now graze peacefully amongst the ruins and the overall place has feeling of serenity.  The view up to the jagged peaks to the south or rolling peaks to the east and west contrast magnificently with the slope to the valley floor and the “village” that is quickly becoming a city.

The temperature inversion that I noticed on the cars dash a common occurrence here and the place is acquiring a name for itself as a healing town. A large Sanatorium is currently being built, with money as no object from the looks of the construction for just this purpose. Locals and visitors alike claim miraculous curative powers in the air and water. Asthma suffers with the ability to move here have done so for years.

It was with one of these new residents that Asland had arranged to host us for lunch. We arrived at a low-slung building with a large gated entrance. Our hosts were waiting for us and quickly ushered us inside and allowed us to look around. The owner had built the entire place by hand and it was truly incredible. In fact, just looking at the property walls made me wonder how many people had labored. Large natural, uncut stones were folded into a wall supported by these same stones broken into perfect halves. The building itself was similarly built and held a red tile roof. Inside the house had a small kitchen to the right of the entrance room and a common room off to the left. A bathroom was directly ahead of the main entrance and it contained a large eight person Russian sauna. This sauna formed the core of the building and actually heated the entire house. Wood was placed into a large enclosed brick fireplace and heated the stones within the sauna and the rest of the building too.

Albert, our host, and his two friends set about getting roasted wild duck and boar ready for us while we did a quick run to purchase three of the local stuffed bread. A tradition this bread comes plain or stuffed three ways. One is stuffed with cheese and potato, another with beets, and the third with ground meat. The table also contained salads and cheese made by locals, and of course three bottles of vodka.  Wine and beer where also offered and a bottle of water placed in front of Asland, our driver.  Drinking and driving have fallen as much out of favour here in the wilds of Russia as it has at home in Vancouver.

Toast were made following the traditional practices and stories told. A meal was shared and new friendships kindled as is also traditional and cultural. The people are very stern and conservative in ways and very welcoming and friendly in others. It is a rich mix of old and new and follows the script of sorts that makes you feel as welcome as family and yet toasted like a king.

A Georgian Road Trip

 

      Arriving back in Russia on the twenty-fifth of September was a bad idea as it meant I had to leave on the 24 of December. Now I guess that in itself is not a bad thing as winter is a little harsher in Anapa than Vancouver but as it was our first anniversary and Inga’s parents couldn’t really fly all the way to Vegas for our wedding we had decided to stay this winter. December brings birthdays, our anniversary, and the general festive celebrations shared with many around the world. Russia is no exception, but it does come with some changes.

Traditionally Russians celebrate the Winter season, as a festival, and only recently have started celebrating Christmas like North Americans.  Now like at home they celebrate Christmas each to their own level of Christian belief. They also still celebrate the old festival too, with old man winter and all the traditions that go along with it. Then comes New Years, followed by Russian New Year. All in all, this makes it a very busy time as Russians love to visit and mingle. So we added a little more to this festive season getting married in December. So we have plans for some big parties at home in Anapa and then in Ossetia before going to Moscow to celebrate Russian New Year. After that the warmth of South East Asia beckons, and will be home for a few months.
 
So I once again found myself needing to do a visa run to allow enough time to do this and not have to fly on Christmas Eve. Inga is still waiting for her external visa to be renewed so I didn’t want to go anyplace far without her so we decided to run home to her parents little village outside of Vladikavkaz and her brother Jim and I would go to Georgia for the day.

 
The trip to Georgia is only about an hour from the big city and is a wonderful drive. The road is very modern and reminded me of the Sea to Sky highway of the 80’s but with much more beautiful scenery. Growing up in British Columbia kind of jaded me for beautiful mountains, or so I thought. This area of Russia is truly beautiful, and barring the bloody history and Ministerial warnings I’ve already talked about should really be on a person's bucket list.
 
The white clouds circle the area around the city as the highway snakes out of the Soviet style buildings south towards the border. The wide road is new and shiny black with dew and mist that seems to be a constant blanket over the area. Watching the road and looking up the hills, turned golden with winter's approach, my eyes are drawn to a sharp, jagged cloud. Only then to I realize that the clouds the ring the city stop and are replaced by a majestic crown of white peaks.
 

These peaks seem to float on top of the clouds themselves and it is difficult to see exactly at which point they intersect. The gold of the autumn hill the shiny breastplate of armor on Saint George himself. That would make the black ribbon we were traveling on the Snake or devil depicted in so many paintings and coins of the realm. This road, while wide and for the most part in Russia freshly paved was a true snake of a road and dangerous. The closer we got to Georgia the steeper the elevation and frequency of switchbacks.
 
We arrived at the border proper and it was a relaxed sort of affair. The mountains were very close together here and mixed. By mixed I mean, coastal style hills with interior mountains slammed up against The Rockies, all in the course of five kilometers. It was surreal for me having lived my whole life in the coastal mountain range.
 
The Russian machine was in full swing and moved those of us that could follow lines and directions along in an efficient and quick manner. Many, unable to follow directions, were yelled at by a bear of a man that seemed completely amazed that Russians have challenges with lineups. Having traveled and lined up with Russians, I found this hard to believe as even as a newcomer this challenge was not lost on me.
 
Unlike at home you and your passenger get out of your car and approach the booth on foot under the watchful eyes of border officers. They then check your car as a person in the booth checks your paperwork. I had Jim with me so I didn’t try to interact and just relaxed and played the dumb tourist, and in ten minutes we were on our way.
 
The “no man's land” or border zone between the Georgian and Russian border is vast. I didn’t check the odometer to get an exact number, but it was close to five kilometers. This part of the road was in poor repair and made the going slow along the river. In the hills along the journey I saw large bunkers with obvious camouflage and “scope flashes” from more concealed watchers. This reminded me that tensions between the two countries, that used to be one, were far from relaxed.
 
We arrived at the Georgian border and Jim told me that I had to go inside and pass customs as only drivers were allowed to remain in the car. He smiled, at my obvious nervousness, and remarked that I need not worry they’d speak English.
 
They did not speak any English. They were not as nice as their Russian counterparts either. They had picked up that rather annoying American habit of saying something louder when it was obvious the person speaking with you didn’t understand the language, as if by raising your voice would suddenly make the person fluent in your tongue.  I pulled a Canadian habit, smiled widely and said sorry for not being able to speak Georgian. This was understood and relaxed the situation a bit and the officer asked if I spoke Russian. I smiled wider still and replied that I spoke a little Russian but better hand signals. This actually brought I smile to the officer's face and he said, “back” in Russian while gesturing to a web camera style device on his desk. I stepped back and he moved the camera gesturing me to remain still.
 
Picture took he asked if I had any guns or weapons and these gestures were entertaining the people behind me bemoaning their decision to get in my line. Then he made the international sign of money, fingers rubbed together, and I was a little confused if I was being asked for a bribe so obviously or if the visa on arrival policy had changed and now cost money.  I said I didn’t understand in Russian, and he thought for a second and said; “You how vino buy?” I had told him earlier we had come to Georgia to try their world famous wine. So I pulled out my wallet and from it my black Visa card and his eyes showed surprise and he nodded, stamped my passport and handed it back saying; “Welcome.”
 
I met Jim on the other side of the border and he said his experience was fine and looked surprised when I said they didn’t speak English.  We maneuvered through the throng on people trying to re-board busses and mini vans and I thanked my luck at having a private driver.
 

We drove into a little town with money exchange kiosks and wine huts clustered together on a parking lot overlooking the mountain valley and river. A flood had come through this area recently and the road was a mess and construction was everywhere. The signs apologizing for this were in English and Georgian as were many of the store signs and advertisements.
 
  Jim had discovered that the border closed at four so we didn’t have much time to sightsee as planned, but still made the time to drive through the first town to the countryside to see the view. It was an incredible view and worth the trip, but Gori and the Inga’s birthplace and family village home would have to wait unless we, as Jim suggested, wanted to spend the night. I had been away too much as of late and really wanted to be “back home” in Russia and my beautiful wife so that part of the trip and your story about it will have to wait till August next year.

Wanting what you have and not what you don't. Ossetia and perspectives!

I have tried my hand at doing a bit of travel writing. It's not really my style. The first person perspective is the way I write so that part is easy and we all know I like rich descriptions. I guess for me the challenge is capturing the emotion or feel of the area I am trying to capture for you. In a story, I have the character to give you passion, but lacking this emotional vehicle I find I struggle.

So when we struggle, we get stronger. If this is true then struggling through a little travel style writing should give me a better perspective and ability when I write fiction. This is at least the premise, as faulty as it might be, that I am going to go on. So come along for a short journey into a quaint little town a few miles from the Georgian border. Only a few short years out of a very disturbing war that no one really heard about.

 The ribbons of asphalt lead out of the big city of Vladakavkaz, past railway lines that are the lifeblood of the communities. The other vehicles sharing the road actually share it. Instead of competing for space a few meters closer to their destination they seem to all understand that the road is narrow and the wide variety of cars and trucks force cooperation. No one gets angry when being passed and all are aware of what is beside, behind, and in front of them. Horns are used to say hello, a short beep, or it's clear to pass, two short beeps. A long single horn is a signal to pay attention and is used very infrequently. It is as close to aggression as Russian drivers get.

The cars range from very old Ladas to new Mercedes.' While I believe it is the law to wear a seatbelt, no one does. Believing instead that being thrown from the car a better alternative than trapped. Car seats are very rare and children are free to sit in the back like I did as a child. This seems a little reckless bordering on careless even, but it is the way things are and as it was the ways things were when I was a child it's hard to put into perspective. Does the relatively false sense of safety a car seat provides support people to drive with less care? Perhaps it is better explained this way. Back in the day, before drinking an driving laws were so strict, if you had a few and had to drive home you did so knowing you were a little pissed and as such corrected your driving style accordingly. I get not everyone did this, and some people fueled on liquid courage just tossed caution to the wind, and in doing so their lives and usually someone else's as well.  But I remember personally driving slower and with far more care than my usual "I'm sixteen and invincible" style. I don't want to encourage debate over drinking and driving, rather I am comparing what was to what is.  Struggling to find this view, as the corn and fields of wheat flow past the window.

The short off ramp removes us from the highway and onto a gravel road. This reminded me of Alberta as did the rural countryside. Driving now takes on the challenge of men's giant slalom. Pot holes threaten to rip an axle off or remove a wheel entirely.  So drivers now engage in a synchronized collection of movements to traverse the new side road. Cows and goats are tethered along the way like Olympic judges bored by the progression. Children of all ages play games only they understand and yet take time to wave at the familiar vehicles they see. Drivers all respond with a polite, short beep and together they enjoy life in this quiet and challenging small town.

 This area is officially listed on the Canadian Foreign Affairs website. Warning travelers not to go as it has a high risk of kidnapping, and other nefarious behaviors. There is a train station in the actual town and I thought we'd get off there and avoid the thirty minute drive from the city, but the train doesn't stop unless it needs to. This gave some substance to the Canadian warning and had me paying attention.

Going into this region I had, of course, done some research. My own threat risk assessment had uncovered some facts and issues that while old could still affect my trip. I knew that only ten years ago a horrific event had taken place in Beslan a short twenty minute drive from where I would be staying.

 On September first, the traditional start of school for children here in Ossetia and in Canada, a hostage crisis took place. Unlike Canada, Knowledge Day or "First Bell" is a celebration that is attended by children and their families. Islamic guerrillas from Ingushetia and Chechnya attacked these festivities and took 1100 people hostage, including 777 children.  334 hostages lost their lives that day including 186 children. This kind of wound never heals. Answers no matter how accurate can never fulfill the questions asked by those suffering from this kind of act. In a community already displaced by war, this compounded the suffering already faced by many of these families. As horrific as this event was very few people outside of Russia know anything about it. The memorial got very few visitors from outside of Russia and had I followed my countries less than up to date or accurate advice, I too would know very little past the talking head CNN coverage.

This may be the reason that in the town, wherever I walked, people seemed to hold their children a little closer. Adults stopped and played if only for a moment with children that may have been a relation or just a member of their community. What I do know is that sense of community, the connected feeling was something visceral. Eyes identified me as an outsider, and people made the time to struggle through the language barrier to discover who I was. Then they invited me with open arms to share a coffee or a meal. Being a farming community this included fresh produce and local delicacies like Cha Cha.

 When I had discovered the train didn't stop in Inga's parents town, I had asked the train attendant why. She had tried her best to answer. I hadn't understood much of that exchange past it wasn't because of any danger and the words Cha Cha.

Cha Cha is a slang word for homemade Ossetian vodka. It is made from various leftover items past what is consumed, canned, or pickled. It is good! So good, in fact, the Russians in Moscow will often ask for friends to bring back Cha Cha. This was so popular that the people in charge of where trains stop, forbid the train from stopping in the very town I found myself in. I have some experience with homemade booze. I have made my own and sampled friends and even passed on some home cooking tips. Now I found myself in Ossetian JCha Cha. Mecca, and it was being offered continuously. This is not to suggest drinking is rampant. It is like any other city in the world. But culturally when guest arrive they don't do so empty handed and the hosts are equally gracious. Combine this with the first person, anyone could remember, visiting from Canada and you have an occasion. Occasions call for Cha Cha., as despite being very humble they know this is the best it gets anywhere.  Cha Cha. ranges from 35 to 75 percent pure and takes on a bouquet of scents and flavours as varied as the cooks. I tasted light pear to peppery garlic. Subtle cherry that changed to anise and finished with black pepper while the initial sip slashed your tongue like a straight razor. Other sips left me wondering if there was any alcohol content at all until the light burn in the tummy confirmed the deception. Like proud fathers, these hosts poured their Cha Cha. from large containers for themselves and me. Should you fail to finish the shot in one sip, they think you don't like it. Something akin to not accepting a baby thrust at you by his or her mother and upturning your nose. So my apologies to the Canadians that follow me and lack the Irish genes and years of trading alcoholism for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, I set a pretty high bar in consumption. The locals now all believe Canadians can drink enough Cha Cha. that language barriers become invisible.

 This being a farming first community the fancy big city things are absent or go unnoticed. My limited edition Robert Graham shirt was commented on only because it resembled Russian Spetnaz camouflage. One person noticed my Sea Dweller and commented he had the same, presenting an Invicta with a similar style. I smiled and slapped his shoulder and said he had good taste. We all laughed and tapped some sliced tomato into a communal salt dish and ate. I thought this is really the life, not yearning for things you want, but wanting what you have. These people were truly blessed in that they had all that they wanted. Family was their focus and unlike some religious fanatics that share that moniker, they honestly were happy and content with life despite all the horrors that had befallen them. Some of the people I was enjoying this meal with were of the age to have been at Belsen, some the Georgian war, and all gathered knew off it. Yet here they are enjoying a meal with a stranger laughing and giving me the gift of their community and friendship.

To say things are fresh here is stating the bloody obvious. But things are fresh and different at the same time. I am not sure why, but familiar things taste so different. Perhaps different is the wrong way to say it. If you go into a McDonalds and look at the pictures and pointed to something what you receive would look far different. So different that unless you were aware of this fact you would probably send it back. Fruit and vegetables here are like that. Tomatoes and peaches and everything are like that. They taste like your brain thinks they should taste. At home, they taste like they came out of some sort of replicator  or were space food made to taste like what you think you're eating. Organic foods are everywhere, in fact, trying to describe this difference is impossible for the locals to understand. Even potatoes taste different. Everything is fresher and realer than what we eat at home. I am not sure if it is because so much of our food is genetically modified or travels such a long way, but the end result is eating back at home will be hard.

Meat, dairy, and eggs are the same way. It is one thing to know the farm the provided the food it is an entirely different thing to know the name of the creature gracing your table, or produced what your eating. Let's take chicken as an example. Inga's Mom makes a special cooked food for the chickens in a coop, when they got sick she personally gave each one of them medication for this common illness. The eggs they produce are rich and full of nutrients. So much so that two eggs is more than enough for breakfast and the shells are hard to crack. As I write this negotiations are ongoing for a pig named Dmitri that is currently running about on several meters of land, doing what small pigs do. Tomorrow, if negotiations go well, Dmitri will be barbecued for our and several families enjoyment. At issue is if I can find some maple wood to show them what maple smoked bacon tastes like. This is the life…