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 and Canadian differences

I am getting a great deal of feedback from friends and fans that enjoy reading about life in Russia. Looking at my reach statistics it is easy for me to see just what countries people are reading my blog and I am happy to tell you Russians are reading it too. So I thought I would try and summarize some of the stuff into kind of a rambling compare and contrast and attempt to give you a general feel. Perhaps a tall order but painting a detailed picture is my comfort zone so let’s step outside it; shall we?

Before I get going too far let me make some things clear when we are talking about generalizations, we are getting into the area of stereotypes. Stereotypes exist for a reason. To a degree they are true and it is only when we use them to make racist statements do we get into trouble. So I will be making some generalizations but I mean no slight on any culture. So if you find, while reading this, your blood pressure rise try to remember it is written by a guy who embodies many stereotypical cultural stereotypes himself and it’s written with a kind hand in fun.

To get a general handle on any country, you have to spend about a month in the actual country itself. I did a ton of research on Russia before Inga and I moved here and got a small idea about what to expect. While it wasn’t a complete waste of time, it was close to it. I could have just listened to what my good friends Dimitri and Sergei said about the place, along with Inga of course, and would have had the same amount of information. But it still wouldn’t have been real for me. Reality is to a large extent our interpretation of the world we perceive. So this is my reality of Russia and no doubt, should you visit this interesting country yours will be different. So why continue reading?

Because it should be fun,

 We grow up learning almost nothing about the largest country in the world. Even now in its shrunken state it is still vaster than even my home Canada. While I might blame this lack of knowledge on the fact my education was carried out in Surrey {NOTE this is that tongue and cheek stuff I mentioned earlier, so relax teachers union 36} but I cannot. Russia is by far just not talked about in our history. It was only through stories and my military education that I even knew Russia and Germany started the Second World War and Russia fought on the Canada/European side. I don’t mention America here; as they were late to get into the fray, content instead to supply Russia with materials for the war.  Inferior quality materials, missing deadline after deadline but Oliver Stone wrote about this in his most recent book and so I will avoid the situation of plagiarizing him and say if you want to know more look it up.

One of the things I’ve learned is that Russians are slow to trust but when they do, they do so completely. This is much different than home. We Canadians trust in stages. We trust our friends with money, but not our car. Russians and trust translate most correctly for us as “Canadians and brotherhood.” So this is one of the reasons a visitor to the country for a few days may find Russians distant or cold. I can assure you they are not. I have had the pleasure of making several good friends and they are warm, generous people. But they have to get to know you. I am lucky as I have Inga to translate. Being a Canadian and living in Canada for more than half her life, Inga understands how to say what I am meaning and not just what I am saying. This difference is the world in translating as rarely is something based on an idea simple to translate.  An idea is far more elaborate as it is what we mean based on culture and how that crosses over into Russian. We aren’t ordering a beer and an accidental plate of cut fruit as I just did.

Perhaps this is a good example. I am writing in a nice little café called Slavyanka. It is attached to our building, as many businesses are, and we have enjoyed many a night here. Perhaps some of you have seen the pictures on my Facebook account. Anyway they know I am Canadian and can’t really speak Russian yet they assume I understand as much Russian as they understand English. Many Russians know English to a degree, they just don’t speak it as they haven’t heard it spoken much and thus have no idea how to arrange the words.  So I ordered a beer and looked at the menu and tried to figure it out. I saw something like apple and words that appeared to be another fruit and another word that I thought meant layered. Putting this together, I thought I might have found a baked strudel, or better a deep fried fruit wrapped in dough. The waiter took the order and went and wrote down and few words in English and came back to show me. This should have been my first clue he thought this was an odd order. I was happy to see that I had figured out apple and that I was correct it had other fruit, oranges and grapes. I said, “thank you” and “yes that is good” and off he went after pouring my beer. Ten minutes later out came a very nice sliced fruit tray of oranges, apples, and two types of grapes.  Not what I expected and thought I was ordering but probably better for me.  So while I write this I am picking at a healthy fruit platter wishing I knew how to order the dough roll. The waiters reality now is Canadians must eat very healthily. Such is perspective reality and trying to decipher the language of symbols that have little in common with Latin-based languages.  But I am Canadian and so I enjoyed my fruit.

Russians will ask just about anything from how you practice religion to what you think about a certain political situation or ideology. There is no stigma about asking what you paid for something or how much a trip cost, nor commenting about what they think about how much you paid. I’ve been flying a great deal and have had this conversation many times. This is a very odd topic for North Americans as we generally shy away, even with friends, about asking the cost of something. That changes with close friends and in that is the difference. If you’re friends in Russia then, you are by cultural definition “close friends”.

When they want to get to know you, they ask what you believe, or what you think about said conflict. I have had a few conversations as of late as my countries leader Premier Harper made despairing statements in the world press about having to shake President Putin’s hand at the G20 summit. As a polite Canadian, his statement embarrassed me, as it is rude to not shake someone’s hand. Despite the political tension between the two countries, the man is hardly Hitler. While I am certain Harper has shaken hands with far worse during his time in government the simple fact that he was stupid enough to comment knowing that these statements would overshadow anything else he completed as leader of my country and as such hamper foreign investment shows me he is no statesman.

“If he wants to return to a safe and cooperative environment why would he behave this way?” This was a question I was asked. How do you answer that question with limited language skills? I didn’t have Inga to translate the corporate ideology and the actions of a less than smooth leader. So when faced with difficult challenges I find it easier if you break it down to its simplest form. Why did the leader of my country choose to make a statement during a huge economic summit that would take away from the fact Canada’s economy is vibrant and growing and a good place to invest? So I answered truthfully. I said; “he is an accountant out of his league on the world stage and is a Suka to the North American imperialist machine. “ Suka” directly translated into English means bitch.  But that falls short of the meaning of the Russian word Suka (CYKA). It most correctly means prison bitch, the lowest of the prison (or Zone) hierarchy, an untouchable and unmentionable person. Perhaps a little harsher than he deserves but I would have rather seen Justin Trudeau at that summit, if he is anything like his old man, and I have never voted Liberal in my life.

In the West, we have a general language in that it is less specific than Russian. So when the question of why is Russia in the Ukraine and Russia answers that they are not we westerners don’t get it. Crimea is what we mean but using general English. So it starts to sound a great deal like the song There’s a hole in my bucket. Putin was finally asked directly about the Ukraine part called Crimea and he answered unedited on German live television. He compared it to Kosovo and used it to show precedent. This has been widely dismissed by western media saying it was hardly the same. That this annexation of Kosovo came after ethnic cleansing by the Serbian government and so was more right. Really? Do we really want to stand on a moral chair and claim we have to wait till people are being piled into mass graves before we act? Crimea’s outcome would have been the same as the outcome currently happening in Donetsk region. Ethnic cleansing, wrapped in uniform  with insignia resembling that famous designer uniforms created by Hugo Boss in 1937.  The most salient difference for me is that the people for the people annexed Crimea after a vote and Kosovo was annexed by a parliamentary order and decision.

Well, that rambled along into a rather political soapbox but such are conversations in Russia. One has to be prepared to discuss such things and have facts correct. Russians really don’t care if you have a different idea or choice than them so long as you arrived at that position by facts. Recently while I was getting a nice tattoo Inga and the artist began a long discussion about a historical-political situation. Topics forbade from the dinner table and while someone is jamming ink into your skin.

One other thing Russians have to get used to that some Canadians take for granted is the ability to criticize the leaders of our countries for their actions and hold them accountable.

Science fiction often in the past has paved the way for scientific innovation and I find myself wishing for a universal translator that has the ability to convey what I mean and not just what has been spoken. Google is a small start but fails more often than it doesn't. Surely if we as a species want to get along we need some bright MIT type to make one of these devices.

Visa Run Complete.

   

     Aeroflot has great service and connections in Russia and outside. However, I say this with one caveat. If you're looking to book one class and then gate upgrade, if available, don't. Aeroflot seems to not get this procedure done all over the world. I booked my flight to London in their Presidents class as I had a very short connection in Moscow and knew I might run into long lines due to the time of day. I had loads of time returning so I left that as a coach ticket figuring I'd gate upgrade the redeye flight out of London and if I could the flight back to Krasnodar if it wasn't too expensive. Anyone that travels a great deal knows these gate upgrades are usually very inexpensive compared to booking ahead of time and rarely available with North American carriers practice of overbooking flights.

Now I don't know if it was just the two agents I dealt with or if as I suspect Aeroflot isn't really onboard with this practice. When I checked in at London, I was told I'd have to go to the ticket desk to change my flight. So off I went and talked to an agent. She was very nice, spoke English very well and told me this upgrade would be around 450 pounds! To have originally booked this flight in Presidents class was cheaper than this upgrade cost. So I left my ticket as it was and checked the front of the plane during the flight. It was a two and two three and three configuration. There were three empty seats upfront.

Just for the sake of research I looked into doing the same from Moscow to Krasnodar and was given one number that was way too expensive for a two hour flight, over 500 USD, and while I was working out the exchange she said she had made a mistake and gave me another number higher than the original price for upgrading from London!! After I saw the planes I was sure glad I had booked in coach, as the last plane was four rows of two and two and then the back being three and three. However, it was a newer plane with very comfortable pitch seats so the three and three seating was fine.

 As an international traveler, I have done gate upgrades a great deal. They work for the airline and me as the airline gets to now put another passenger onto the plane and show the first customer what the added space and service is like upfront. The idea is, of course, that the customer chooses to book in that class for subsequent flights with them.  Often the meal selection is limited and it is harder to do with two people but I have found for solo travel asking for a gate upgrade is always a good idea. I have recommended this to travel clients in the past but best not to do it on Aeroflot.

If I hadn't just spent three months in Russia, I might have thought they were trying to cheat me. It certainly would appear that way to an outside observer. How can the last two-hour leg of a six-hour flight be more expensive, by leagues, than the whole flight? But having lived here for a while I know this isn't the case and has something to do with Aeroflot's pricing structure.

So that's the bad about Aeroflot and hopefully they change it because if they do they will be a world contender for air service. I say this having traveled quite a bit on budget and not so budget carriers. Some of which I will never use regardless at price. One carrier that flys between Bellingham and Las Vegas comes to mind. I have seen fifty dollar round trip prices yet I will fly Alaska Air instead at triple the cost each way.  Service and my piece of mind are worth it.

     Aeroflot's service in the sky is awesome in either class. The President's class full flat beds on my flight to London where comfortable and the staff were super attentive. I saw the attendant serving my section check a couple of times with the other attendant to figure out how to say something correctly in English. Even in coach the effort was obvious. Compare that to a Canadian carrier flying within Quebec! Food from North America, Europe, and within the Russian Federation was tasty, fresh and plentiful. It also didn't come with an additional charge and even a glass of wine was complimentary even in the back of the bus!

I also noticed that kids are still invited up to the flight deck, on flights within Russia, to have a quick look around! I remember doing this as a child and it being a highlight of a trip to Disney Land. A great practice that ended elsewhere in the world due to fears of terrorists and hijacking.  Now the sixty-kilogram flight attendant stands in the aisle, supposedly to thwart access whenever the flight deck door is opened. Really? All it does is remind people they live in fear.  A real terrorist would be through her and into that deck before she stopped bleeding out on the lighted "this way out" aisle.

      So I soon found myself in London and was hit by the multicultural of it. Living within Russia and in the resort city frequented, predominantly, by Russians being in London was a culture shock. It was great to speak English, but it felt odd too. I found myself quickly adapting and very aware I was doing so.

Being the high season in London, I stayed at a "budget" hotel. It was still expensive by North American standards, but it was perfectly located and had awesome service. The rooms are small, but the hotel itself is a perfect business class design. It was called the Rockwell and it is close to Earls Court. I had a bunch of paperwork and various things to do and the desk staff was awesome at helping out.

I had booked six nights, in advance, as I was unsure exactly how many days it would take to get all these hoops taken care of. The stars aligned and gave me a few days to do some sightseeing. I have been to London before. I went to the London Book Fair when I released Grey Redemption as it was being featured. However on that trip I was only in the country for forty-nine hours and had little time to do anything. Prior to that trip, I had done some tourist stuff in-between flights to Africa.

This time I had loads of time and while being budget conscious I did get to see some very cool parts of London. I got to Gordon Ramsey's restaurant at the Savoy and spent a few hours at the Tate. I also took advantage of the open deck tour buses. The ones with real commentators as the recorded versions are a sad replacement. It allowed me to relax and get a good bit of research done while being entertained at the same time. I got a London Pass and travel card and I am certain this saved me money on my tube travel alone, not to mention the convenience of it.

I took advantage of a walking tour that was advertised as a Ghost Tour. It was more correctly a pub tour with asides about ghosts. It was part of my Big Bus ticket and was hosted by a short and wholly entertaining man. Rich in history, details, and jocularity it was a great way to spend a couple of hours. It wasn't a hard walk and we had a varied group from the US, Europe, Australia, and me. It was by far one of the most informative tours I have ever taken and well worth your time if you are in London
 
I also had the pleasure of meeting a long time internet buddy Elliot Taylor, or Riz. He has just finished writing a book called Up The Hammers. It is Military Non-Fiction and written in a style that is pleasing and interesting. So much of this type of writing is dry and reads like the textbooks that made you hate history. This is not the case with Elliot's book. He gave me a copy while we shared a long-promised cigar and some beers in the Garden of the hotel until they turned off the lights. Then we moved to a local pub and continued till they closed as well. This was not too late as London has rather old fashion drinking laws. It was a great time and awesome visit with someone I knew to be intelligent and was glad to discover a great guy as well. Get this book, it is available in soft copy, has great pictures and really sheds light on the realities of WW1 trench warfare from a uniquely British perspective.

I did a great deal of traveling on the tube while I was in London and even more walking and six days was more than enough. I was tired and relieved that my one-year multiple entry and exit visa was approved by the Russian Consulate.  This gives me a great deal more freedom to come and go from Russia as I please. Regular visas have many more restrictions.

     My return journey to the Russian Federation began in the evening with a trip to Heathrow four. The previously mentioned Aeroflot issues aside it went without a hitch. One thing for smokers to note Heathrow four is the only terminal that has a smoking area past the security checkpoint. It is out by gate three, downstairs and was a nice surprise as this was my last cigarette. I had decided and promised Inga I would stop smoking when I returned to Anapa. My journey ended at about the same time I left for the airport the next day. Being in coach, I was unable to really sleep; however I think I passed out a couple of times on the flight to Krasnodar and then again on the three-hour bus ride home with Inga

This blog is being written a week or so after I returned and so far so good on the no smoking promise and my back is just starting to feel normal after the journey. Sitting for too long is proving to be more of a challenge with the missing discs in L2 and L3 than it was when I was younger. Oh well, at least I know I am not wasting money paying to sit upfront! LOL!

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.

Ok what I think about the Ukraine conflict.

     So being so very close to the problems in the Ukraine, and being a writer of military fiction it has been very hard to keep my mouth shut about what I think of the fighting. Having been a solider in a few different incarnations and an avid researcher of conflicts may not make me an expert in my mind but I am certainly better qualified than some of the talking heads CNN and some other media are parading around these days.

 
Jumping through hoops in Russia for my own registration and visa issues has also put me elevator close to some of the people being displaced by the fighting. These people have the razor edge look of someone barely holding it together. Children have the blank stares that only come with a shattered childhood innocence. Instead of girls playing hoops and boys playing war they were forced to comprehend something intelligent adults struggle with. They have been exposed to the horror of war.

This in itself is a failure of humanity and the basic beliefs put forward by civilized peace loving societies. To have exposed children in this way supercedes the who is right question. Shattering the lives of children and making them try to grasp why people want them dead are concepts past their ability. The Kiev government, shares this responsibility with the other combatants.
 
While the west, and by west I mean my country Canada as well, parades the evil Russia as the responsible party these atrocities continue. Claiming Russia is responsible is a sideline issue and one done to muddy the waters of understanding. Disagree? Ok let’s compare some facts.

Russia may have sold or provided weapons and military support to the breakaway territories in the Ukraine. While this isn’t a proven fact I will for the purpose of this article say it is so. The USA has provided Israel with far more sophisticated hardware and detailed military intelligence. So claims of support, are as I suggest a sideline issue, to stopping the hostilities and saving children from exposure to hate and fear.
  
Charging the USA with hypocrisy is akin to penalizing an elephant for being fat. Charging Russia for protecting its borders, and people are in the same vein. No country on earth paid a higher price than Russia did in the Second World War. A war simply referred to here as  “The Great War.” Is this because Russians  love war so much?  Nyet! It is a sign of respect and admiration to those that fought against incredible odds to protect their collective mother. Mother Russia. This pride and understanding are universal. Children are educated about Stalingrad, and other battles not in a glorification but in the lesson of costs. They learn what freedom cost them.

            If I were to include all of the issues of how this conflict began and try to finger point responsibility, it would probably get me more comments and page participation than misspelling participation. This is not my focus. While I encourage participation and want to stimulate you to look into all of these issues, from many sources, finger pointing is not my focus. My focus is to get you to ask if this is right or ever ok.

Humanity left unpracticed is just a stupid idea and the monsters win. We all know what the monsters are for us. For some, it may be Vladimir Putin or Barrack Obama while others may say the Illuminati. I will not judge you for your monsters. In the spirit of full disclosure, my monsters are the International Monetary Fund and the World Trade Organization. Our monsters are our own.  Just as our values and ethics or humanity are. So for me it comes down to Monsters Vs. Humans a classic fiction story arch.

            Basic humanity says it is never ok to use artillery shelling in civilian occupied areas.  Arguing to the contrary is like trying to justify tossing a grenade into a pool full of children to kill a pedophile. Yes, we universally hate pedophiles; they are accepted monsters in most societies. But only an idiot would try to say tossing a grenade into a pool, full of kids, to kill one was ok. So too is shelling a city full of people and claiming the rebels are hiding within populated areas.
 
Before you start pointing the fault finger, stop. It doesn’t matter remember? We aren’t interested in fault we are focused on stopping a child, or any other person for that matter, from growing up with hate and fear. Because if we don’t the monsters win and we have all seen enough movies to know what happens then.

Fear! Fear happens, the monsters don’t need to eat you or wrap you up in goo and plant chest bursting seeds in you. They just need you afraid; too afraid to travel, too afraid to watch, and too afraid to speak up. Fear destroys the mind and our superior minds are what separate us from the rest of this watery ball’s inhabitants.  Fear of terrorists allows the monsters to supercede or basic freedoms. It makes us think we are unsafe and need protection from the wonderful unknown.
  
I was embarrassed to read that Canadian planes were delivering supplies to the Kiev government to help with the war effort and doing nothing else. That our Conservative government had locked step and was contributing to the grenade tossing and doing nothing else. Why not load those huge, and now empty, transport planes with women and children and remove them from the fighting?

Is it now ok to brutalize women and children regardless of side and fault? Did the Canadians mission overseas switch without a vote? Did we change from one of the world’s preeminent peacekeeping forces to a puppet force of the USA without so much as a debate in parliament?  Has my countries value and ethics so drastically changed without so much as a murmur? Why are the Canadian people suddenly ok with this?

Sure it is only sleeping bags and cooking pots but these bolsters the armies’ morale. A morale that has been lacking because the regular soldiers, on the ground, have been deserting because they don’t want to be monsters.  No hero songs have ever been sung about the indiscriminate slaughter of children.

            I know I have simplified this issue a fair bit and I have only put two sides forward in a story like fashion but do I need to make it more convoluted? I believe that killing women and children in any war is not acceptable. I believe that we as humans have a debt and obligation to children to provide at the very least a safe childhood. I believe love and faith in the human race demand this of each of us and it is a personal responsibility owed to all of those in this world. I believe if we fail at this obligation couching our actions with words like practical and reasonable instead of the reality FEAR we make a choice. The choice is living with fear and not living with love and then the Monsters win. The monsters should know there are always bigger and more powerful monsters just waiting in the shadows to pounce the day humanity dies….

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.

Melancholy Mood in Anapa Russia

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

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

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

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

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

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

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…