My last week in Anapa, Russia.

    I have been doing a bunch of thinking lately. Yes, I know how dangerous that can be. But hey, you’re sitting at home safe and sound so have a sip of coffee or vodka and come along with me on this little ride. I am not going to include a bunch of pictures in this blog as I want you to form your own.

     I am always amazed when life tosses things in front of you when you either least expect it or need it the most. Like catching the perfect iPod mix on random while doing an equally random drive or walk. This has happened to me this week past the point of coincidence. Those of you that know me well understand my love of this sacred geometry of chance. Either you’ve played poker with me or sat next to me at a blackjack table. Winning or losing I love watching the odds. Not that I can understand odds correctly, my math skills are too underdeveloped for that. I just get caught up in the awe of impossible and relish the unlikely. This week has brought this to my door. Inga is running about in a packing frenzy as we prepare for the move to Georgia. Inga hates packing, but she is getting used to it with all our bounces over the past year. She also has her very own system for doing it and my system is to stay out of her way while she does. So I have been getting a great deal of writing done. I try to help as I can, but mostly I just try to be supportive. We have already rented a beautiful three bedroom two bath eighth-floor apartment in Tbilisi. We don’t need all the extra room, but our cousins helped to find and organize it all and got us a great deal so a little extra is better than a little tight. I will be telling you all about Georgia when we actually get there, but I discovered an odd fact just renting the place from here in Anapa. In Georgia, you pay to use the elevator in your own building. Just going up! I am sure North Americans will find this very strange like I did. It isn’t much and it gets added as a monthly charge to your utility fees. It makes sense in that odd way something so different makes you kinda think Hmmm?

     So this couple of weeks have brought a few finished chapters, a stack of boxes, and serendipity. Messages out of the random ether of the internet, Facebook posts, and introspection have been plotting to make me think a little. For example, a random like by a new friend of our wedding photo reminded me what a wonderful wife and life partner I have. Another random comment reminded me of what the two of us find value in; living life. Finishing the last chapter of my latest MSS had me tempted to write ‘the end’. A message from another source reminded me that as satisfying writing ‘the end’ is;  a story is rarely ever finished. So like the look of the packing. But I also know it will be done in time and correctly, I hope just like the latest story. What allows me to see these random strings is time, I am blessed with the time to slow down and smell the roses as they say and see the interconnectedness of these random items in an overall contextual framework. Inga and I pair well in this regard as she continues to put things we need in a pile to take and things we probably won’t need in a box to pack away. Dripping with sweat as if in a Stalinesque exercise video as it is very VERY hot here in Anapa right now. Me counting on her and she counting on me to see the overall picture so something important doesn’t get missed. It isn’t really fair as she is doing much more work. But it doesn’t have to be for each of us appreciates the different gifts and styles each bring to the relationship. We have a common goal and an uncommon bond. It is after all my idea and desire to stay in Russia. The common objective is happiness and it is very uncommon that both people share the definition of that nebulas word.

To that end, I managed to pass my Russian immigration test. The test is very hard. I’ve been told so is the one to pass Canadian Citizenship exam. I am not sure if this is true, but I know in Canada you get three years to do it while I only had three months. My teachers at the CenterSoyus.ru here in Anapa were awesome. So was, once again, Inga. Friends also chipped in to help the lone Anapa Canadian and together we were successful. I passed! I found out after I had passed I needed to achieve seventy percent on the exam to do so! I had been shooting for fifty-one!! So it is official and certified by the Russian Government I can speak, read, and write Russian and understand its history and laws. In truth, I know more than I can say correctly but I can make myself understood and understand written forms and the like. I still mess up masculine and feminine plurals and stuff bringing a smile usually when they know I am Canadian. They understand as most have tried to learn our obscure and confusing language as well.

    So I have already mentioned the latest MSS is complete as far as the creative end goes. It was a joy to write using Scrivener. I don’t usually endorse platforms or products here, but this is the easiest method for writing a novel. If you’re using WORD stop! This is the product to use and while the learning curve is as hard as Photoshop it is just as powerful. I still write in Pages and post into Scrivener as I am used to doing it that way but the ability to export it as a perfectly formatted PDF and search back through all the scenes with a click make continuity edits and editing, in general, a dream. I bought the program after Jack Whyte had said he used it.

So now I have the two-part process of editing this latest MSS and making it a book and finding an agent.  Remember it is only a book after it gets an ISBN! To this end, I have been doing a ton of research for agents that specialize in Military Fiction and don’t mind a non-USA centered point of view. I am not really sure which will prove harder. But the sequel is done. It is tight, sharp and focused. Finds Rhys up against impossible odds still loving his quirky cat!

Back in Anapa Russia and going to school.

       So life finds me back in Anapa and back in kindergarten. It also finds me alone. I see it as a vote of confidence that I can make my way in this city without Inga’s help. Well, I have always been a little overconfident. In reality, it is all-good and I get to practice my language skills and when that fails charades and re-enactment sound effects. Inga and I were planning on visiting our parents on our return to Russia. But like all plans things changed. Russia now requires any residency applicant to write, read, and speak Russian. So I had to start school right away as I only really have three months to master this exotic tongue.  This meant I had to stay at home and as much I hated this, I miss my Russian parents as much as Inga, it was unavoidable. Russian is hard as it has an entirely different alphabet and while Russians have had to learn English in school for years, they fail as much as I do in mastery. However, I have great and motivated teachers that are enjoying teaching me as much as learning from me. My history teacher is a Radio personality here in Anapa and used to be on TV. Her degree is in Psychology and my English teacher is even more qualified, or over qualified with Ph.D., as is the case but it makes for a rich and rewarding learning environment. They all are very intelligent and accepting of me as I struggle to learn with encouragement.  This new law came into effect in January and while I totally agree with the requirement, I wish it came with a few months to learn. I hate it when Canadians can’t speak the language, especially when employed in the service industry. I recently had an issue understanding a Canada Customs Officer. She wasn’t speaking French either!! Inga had said I was hard on her when we got loaded on the plane and now…Well, Karma is a bitch! So taking a little time to enjoy the beach while I listen to the phrases over and over learning how they sound and feeling a bit odd about the children’s workbook on my lap. Finger following along as Google reads it.

Yeah, I am heavy rolling prime beef on the beach! But I am learning it and remembering it and at fifty that is an accomplishment in itself. I was going to do a bit of a change in style on this installment and write this in the travel writer style but I am no longer holding out hope for an easy out to this Visa issue by getting a job doing travel writing. So life is a little in the wind and both Inga and I are practicing our Thainess by just accepting the things we can’t change and roll with the punches.

My Russian is actually improving, as the signs that accompany me on my walk to school are slowly starting to catch my attention and I understand them. I have been putting in the effort two or three hours of school and then four or so doing exercises on the computer in the evening. It has been cutting into my writing time to be sure and this blog is evidence of such. When I started it, Inga had just left and tomorrow she comes home. So almost two weeks have passed.

I managed to order a Gyro and understand the spoken amount the other day returning from school. The little Armenian guy who has opened a new shop on the corner was a bit perplexed until I told him I was Canadian. He was patient and together we got it done and paid for. He asked why I moved from a great country to Russia, we have a rep Canucks, and I told him I loved Russia and the sun. He smiled and nodded his agreement and understanding although I think I switched up the genders of the two. Russian has three gender assignments for adverbs and the noun changes the word before and after. It also changes the sounds of both these words as well. They also assign gender to numbers and hierarchy or proper, polite speech. Yeah, it is confusing as hell but I am slowly getting it with the help of my teachers. Inga is back tomorrow so we will get to practice live instead of drool computer speak. Google isn’t as good a translator, for Russian, as Facebook is. I know my Russian fans and friends are enjoying the struggle and proud of my effort.

The other day I was walking down the street and an old women stopped and asked me directions to the post office. She had no doubt noticed my tan and assumed I was a local. I managed to explain I was from Canada and a tourist. Her eyes went wide like she was witnessing a rare animal species. I stumbled through saying I understand Post Office and then gestured and said let’s go in Russian. We walked in silence, slowly as she weighed the cost of getting lost with this strange creature against her energy level. I walked her to the post office and then asked her if this was correct. She smiled and nodded her head and I noticed she had tears in her eyes. She saw the concerned look on my face and took my hand and in very slow Russian said; “Thank You May 9.” May 9th is a holiday in Russia commemorating the Allied victory over Germany. I was confused at first and then got it. The only connection to Canada she had was our help during the Great War as it is called here and while she didn’t look old enough to have personal experience from that time, she must have been. The look in her eyes was the same look my Father used to have on Remembrance Day. I nodded my understanding and said in Russian “your welcome.” I watched her old eyes dart back and her brow creased as she searched for a memory. Finding it with a smile she said in English “welcome to Russia” let go of my hands and shuffled off towards the doors of the post office.

I walked back down the street named after Lenin towards my school and remembered the 22.6 million Russian lives lost in that conflict. My mind making the connection that at home our vets struggle to forget that horror while paying tribute to those that were lost and reminding the community to remember. In Russia the community never forgets and are grateful each day for the sacrifices of the defenders of their Mother. Rodina!

Same Same But Different and Chiang Mai

Writing is a funny process. Notice I didn’t say fun. It is funny in the way stories progress and stall and take the author on as much of a journey as the reader. If you follow my blog and Facebook page, you already know I am doing the sequel in two different ways. I am not writing in the first person perspective exclusively and doing it scene by scene rather than following a linear process. For this reason, my outline needed to be much more detailed and should have been written in crayon. The twists and developments have really allowed me to expand on characters you love, hate, and perhaps hate to love, and much more. The freedom granted by an all knowing master of the world perspective has been very rewarding and I think it will be as rewarding for the fans too. To be honest, it has been fun to write it as well.

Milestones are important and fifty thousand words, after a fourth serious edit, is close to a third of the way there. Spine thickness and Military Fiction is a serious consideration unless you are the late Clancy. We lost a great storyteller and a man who could ignore many of the rules for writing this genre. I broke a few rules with Grey Redemption, perhaps too many, and adapted my preferred style of writing to address those and I think it worked. I really did a Maass style revision on this last edit and tightened the prose with an eye on micro tension and pacing. While I know I am biased, I think it is much tighter. It lost the labored detail-rich environment some of you loved and others hated. But I think it balanced out, to a better read. I lack my own test reader rich environment being overseas but my diligent and awesome usual suspect is on the job and I am waiting for her thoughts. I also shared it with two people here in the country and as they hadn’t read Grey Redemption the advice was great for making sure it stood alone and not just a sequel. So step by step, day by day I am writing. I am not going to give you any projections on completion as so much is currently on my plate, but it is rolling along.

Chiang Mai has been home for almost three months and the time is quickly approaching for the long flight home to BC. I am looking forward to seeing family and friends as this three month trip has stretched into a year and I know my Mom is looking forward to Inga and I coming home for a bit. Just like trips you want to take but never do because the life you want a break from gets in the way of the life you want to live the opposite is true. This grand year of travel, cultural lessons, and experiences, has soared by. The research for the book has been invaluable and allowed me to tighten up the prose without lessening the impact of the writing, or so I believe. The proof will be in the response I get from the test readers and what they think. Personally I believe I have.

So we have to leave this Northern paradise around the middle of the month. Tickets are booked, with an added little stop in Hong Kong. The flight was the best for time and stopovers. However, the HK stop was a little tight and so I decided that a little three-day vacation in the exciting city was a good little vacation. Yes, I know a vacation from the vacation Covey? But in reality I have been working pretty hard on this new MSS and Inga really worked hard at her Massage course.

They had said intensive, but this is Thailand, and that brings a different meaning. Or so I thought. Nope intense it was and she pushed through despite coming home each night tired and sore to crash in bed early. I am very proud of her achievement as most people take a break and stretch the course longer than the month. So three days in Hong Kong is a nice little reward for the two of us.

  We have made many friends in this laid back quite little city and have both been enriched by the experiences here and the little bits of Thai culture we have added to our own. Experiences are what you make of them and take from them and we have both learned a great deal. Past the shifting focus of what is important and needed, to an understanding of what is life and what is noise. We are indeed blessed by learning this at such a young age.

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.

The Social Media experiment and Thailand.

       I did a little test on my private facebook page and I think sharing it will be culturally illuminating. I posted a message saying Happy Birthday to President Putin and added a funny picture depicting the two presidents in day-to-day activities that called President Obama’s manliness’ into question. I got the idea talking about cultural differences and ideologies. Freedom of speech is an idea but if it stops at just an idea it really isn’t worth the cost it took to entrench it in our culture. In the discussion around this, I was asked to put my money where my mouth was. The general feeling here is people in the West don’t like Russians because of the countries policies.  Sanctions and sound byte rhetoric hasn’t helped this feeling as Russian people have unfettered access to outside news and have a smattering of English language ability. Perhaps not enough to capture the entire message, but enough to get the gist. So in my test I posted this picture and wishes and added something that was both true and an achievement about President Putin. Being polite is a Canadian stereotype.
 
The feeling was that in 24 hours my Facebook page would be inundated with harsh or downright hateful statements. My feeling was one of uncertainty as I really didn’t know what the post response would be. I know I hoped it would be respectful and I wished the brainwashing attempt of the Western media had failed as I like to think my friends and family are intelligent and respect the idea of freedom.
 
So the 24 hours are up and I was right, no hateful messages. What  made this test even more special is the response I got. As it is a private page, I will not add a name, but the one response I did get was from someone who risked his life defending these very same ideologies. A personal hero of mine and a man I deeply respect. He said, “Wow."  So in explaining this to friends here deepened both respect and understanding. They know I have family in the USA and were significantly more than a little surprised they said nothing. To have a Canadian soldier who has had Russian-made hardware fired in anger at him comment so respectfully really raised the bar on respect and understanding. It was obvious on the faces of these very hard men, many soldiers themselves that they understood what freedom of speech meant to us and while they may not agree with the statement “they will die protecting your right to say it.”  

Another less serious part of the test is just the cultural idea of what a man is. In Russia, a man is a provider and protector. Please notice I used “a” and not “the” in that statement. For men, it is important to do things stereotypically seen as manly like hunting, fishing, and engaging in tough activities. Less importance is put on the emotional side of things like connecting with the hosts of The View and sharing. This is not to suggest men are not emotionally connected to their partner. They just have a better understanding of the relationship. Equality has been alive and well in Russia a lot longer than in other cultures around the world so there seems little need to bemoan glass ceilings or gender inequality. People and relationships have in many cases settled on roles based on mutual acceptance, without life coaches and support groups. When men bring flowers, the arrangements are huge, beautiful, and may cost a day or two's salary. They do this past the usual reasons for flowers, they do it as they feel romantic and want to express it.

That was my foray into live Social Media experiments. For the many of you that are both friends and fans on my private page this is what that post was about that you saw and thought your private thoughts. I guess in that is the truest of truths. Our ideas and opinions are exactly that; ours and ours alone.  When an ideology becomes polarized with the added emotional dogma of culture, religion, patriotism, and lacks understanding of a different perspective it becomes explosive. Many of you probably shared the “Wow” sentiment and perhaps wondered and additional “WTF?” as well. Thanks for being my test group, and proving to many here in Russia that our ideologies are not just propaganda and rhetoric. That we do hold these ideas sacred and we “talk the talk and walk the walk.”

      So Mike Tyson probably said it best when he said a plan is only good until the point you get punched in the face. Living full time in Russia would probably be ok if I weren't such a chatterbox and social butterfly. However like Popeye said, “I am what I am.” So while browsing cheap visa run possibilities I saw a hot fair to Thailand. Thailand! I thought, wow visa run and mileage run all in one. So I booked it and hopped on a plane from Anapa to Moscow, and then ten hours south to Asia.
 
I am getting quite used to traveling inside Russia and know the way things go and what to expect so I like playing a game. The game goes something like this. How far can I get speaking only Russian and making the people think I am Russian? All the way to Thailand! I made it from Anapa on the Black Sea to Moscow and to my overnight hotel without having to resort to English or comedic gestures. The trick is not so much understanding the language but the culture of Russia. You need to adopt the walk and the way of interacting with the staff in a bored and relaxed way. I figured the international flight out would be a little more difficult and it was, but the look on the Passport Control Officers face was priceless when I handed my Canadian passport over. Seems like I have relaxed quite well into this culture. I even asked a Police Officer where the lounge was in the departures area, as I couldn’t get a cell signal to search for it. This is not really something a Russian would do. But my poor accent must have been mistaken for extreme frustration as the cop actually gestured and said, “Relax, follow me.”

So twelve hours found me in Bangkok, two in the lounge drinking beer, and then ten hours on the plane sleeping like a baby thanks to the previous two hours of beer drinking. I snore loudly when I drink, I’ve known this for years and have used it quite effectively in the past to get a room all to myself, and the same was true on the flight.  I awoke with the six other passengers moved to new seats. I apologized, its Canadian, and was told it wasn’t a problem. So I arrived in Bangkok refreshed and rested and as it was only 9 had the entire day to visit the city. Before I did that I had to enter the Kingdom.

The Kingdom is currently under Martial Law. When you hear that the thoughts it brings to mind differ depending on where you’re from.  For me, I thought that they would be a little more diligent in the entrance process and hoped they would still give me a thirty-day exempt visa. The process was no different than many other countries and I soon found myself in a huge airport. Bangkok airport, or BKK, is wonderfully laid out and very easy to navigate. The people are friendly and helpful and the whole Martial Law thing quickly slipped from my mind. I called a Uber taxi after getting a mobile phone sim at the airport. The phone sim was cheap and easy and the girls working the kiosk helpful and fast. They set up the phone and made sure it worked and showed me how to refill the minutes. The entire process took perhaps ten minutes. I hit the bank machine on the way out and grabbed my Uber driver using the GPS location sent to my phone.

Uber is more expensive to take from the airport, but the car was better than the regular taxis and the driver's English was good.  He was the one that actually told me he was more expensive. I asked the question and he said if I wasn’t long lined and they went on the meter that the trip would have been about ten dollars cheaper. He went on to explain that was a lot of ifs and that they wouldn’t use the expressway, as its paid, like we were going to do to avoid traffic. I so love Uber!
The hotel was listed as a five star and it was cheap. It was cheap and perhaps a five star a few years ago, I’d give it four, but it was clean and the staff great. I checked in early and set off to see some cultural sites.

As an older western tourist traveling alone, you immediately get sold the “boom boom” options. It took quite a great deal to convince my Tuk Tuk driver that I really did just want to see the statues and cultural stuff. But with effort we finally had an understanding that the kickbacks he’d get taking me to one of these fishbowls or shows wasn’t worth the risk of me getting out of his tuk tuk and walking away. A tuk tuk is a three wheeled motorbike that many use as primary transportation. There are also scooter taxis but riding “bitch” on a scooter that weighed less than me, driver included,  in Bangkok traffic seemed overtly reckless.

We did a few local temples and at each one he waited patiently for me. Then we set off to find a place that sold e-cigarette devices, as I had to replace the tank on my Aspire system. This took a few hours as things are very hard to find in Bangkok even with addresses and pictures. So after about seven hours together we arrived back at the hotel and I asked how much I owed him. We had agreed on a fare to the temple, but I had forgot to get a price for the other. Breaking the rule always agree on a price before getting onto a Tuk Tuk. He did the usual thing and said “whatever you think is fair." So in these cases I default to what was his service worth to me in Canadian dollars.  I handed him 500 baht and he was happy confirming our trip tomorrow to the river trip and floating markets. I confirmed, saying I would see him at ten. I knew he was getting a kickback from this and was totally ok with it.

The next day found us heading to the boat trip. I had slept in and was only able to grab a coffee and a quick bite before rushing down for ten so I asked Ping if he had eaten yet.

He said he had breakfast with the kids when he had sent them off to school, but could eat. So I suggested he pick a place on the way that he had frequented in the past and liked. This brought a look in the mirror and then a full turn around assessment. I continued saying “You pick, I buy, good for me good for you. It’s cultural; Okay?”  For those readers that remember we invited the cab driver up for lunch when we arrived in Anapa Russia. So Ping gave me another look and shrugged his shoulders and continued slipping through the morning Bangkok traffic without killing me. He turned down an alley and I could smell the river, past the other exotic and not so exotic scents. Passing a little cart with three folding camp style chair and tables Ping gestured with his head while swerving to avoid a cat with another in hot pursuit. He gave me a look in the mirror again and I said smells good. A smile crossed his face and we continued toward the river. We parked near the river cruise place and Ping suggested we get tickets first and offered to come with me on the cruise, to translate. I knew this was another way to get a little more out of me, but I liked him and thought he might come in handy, so I agreed. Ping ran off to put the Tuk Tuk in a better place for long storage and use his phone and a Guy walked over to take care of me. Absently I responded to him in Russian and he quickly disappeared, leaving me standing there. A couple where getting tickets and I watched them pay for a private boat on the long trip. It came out to 1800 baht, and they had not been delivered by Tuk Tuk as the guy was pointing out to the lady, while he walked by me to the dock, how it would have been more if they had taken a taxi and paid the kick back. Ping arrived and asked me what length of trip I wanted to do. I said the long trip and together we went to the desk to pay. Ping talked to the lady selling the tickets and confirmed, with me,  I was going to pay for him too and the total was 1500baht. There was a little more conversation between Ping and the sales lady while I paid and by the tone I could tell Ping was being firm. The lady was shaking her head yes as Ping and I left and walked up the alley toward the food cart.  I asked what was up and Ping said that she was trying to book us too early and we would be rushed for the temple and market because of the other bigger tour boats.

We arrived at the food stall and while I wouldn’t call it clean looking it was good smelling. Ping asked what I liked and I smiled and responded with “what do Russians eat for breakfast?” He got it immediately and laughed saying, “Yes yes you have no idea what this stuff is.”  I responded telling Ping I would have what he is having with a beer.  He told me to go sit.

After ordering for the two of us, he returned with a beer and two glasses, one full of ice. He took the ice glass and gave me the other and poured the beer commenting that the ice was tap water so no good for me. We made small talk till the lady delivered our food. It was rice with egg mixed in and then another cooked on top, with onion and other, spices beside chicken in a spicy sauce. When I say, spicy think of peanut sauce added to conceal liquid demon tears.

In Russia, they feed you Vodka to test you fortitude. This was a similar test with spice and I mixed it with my rice and added copious amounts of sugar to my beer when Ping was distracted to help quell the nuclear fission that was occurring behind by third bicuspid! I think I commented twice how spicy it was and Ping simply nodded his response as we both started sweating.

I seemed to pass the test and while I paid 190 baht for our meal Ping grabbed two water and another beer from the fridge and stuffed them into his backpack. “For the boat trip,” He said heading off down the alley gesturing in a Thai, palm down, for me to follow.  I did thinking to myself that a Tuk Tuk driver just bought me a beer.

The river trip was very interesting and after seeing the regular boats crammed with passengers I was happy I got a private boat. I’ve spent a great deal of time on boats so the rolling muddy river didn’t bother me, but I saw people in other boats feeding the fish with the expensive hotel breakfast they had eaten that morning. We saw the market, and the riverfront, temples near and far and Ping did his best to be tour guide in simple English and I could tell by how he said things he was very proud of the city.  It was a great day and I think Ping enjoyed himself as well. We ended the day back at the hotel and Ping said; “Thanks for the boat trip and seeing Bangkok Mr. Scott.”

The next hop was to Chiang Mai in the north of Thailand. I had made the decision that Bangkok was a little too much like Moscow but with Asian drivers and far too busy. I had made a connection with a guy in Chiang Mai on the internet and had decided to stay there for a week. So with money transferred via Paypal I boarded a Thai Airlines flight for the one-hour hop to the second largest city in Thailand.

Richard Katze was waiting for me when I got off the plane putting and end to my thoughts of being stranded in Chiang Mai without a place to stay. He took me to the studio apartment he owns and showed me around and made sure I was settled in. If you are looking for a guy in Chiang Mai, he is a good one to know and one you can trust.   The place was as advertised and perfect for a base to see if Chiang Mai was a city Inga and I could spend part of the year in.

The following day I grabbed a Tuk Tuk and agreed on a price to do a two hour just drive around tour of the city to get my bearings and a general feel for the place. During the trip, the sky opened up and a warm rain drenched everything and when it stopped the sweet florid smell of the jungle brought back memories of Africa and I knew I could make a home here.

The people are very friendly, Thai and Expat alike. English is widely spoken and if not the person is used to visitors and makes it work. I enjoyed the western style mall just up the street from the condo and the relaxed happy attitude of the entire city. I spent seven days walking various neighborhoods and looking at condos for rent and for sale. I ate in little roadside stands full of locals and in one or two fancier western focused places. It was all good to great food and very fresh and organic.

I knew Inga and I would be returning so I didn’t want to do any real touristy things without her, but I had heard of a place called Tiger Kingdom. Tiger Kingdom is a refuge and tourist attraction in one. It is set up to take care of, and allow tourists to closely interact with, tigers.  By close, I mean get inside the cage and pet these amazing creatures. The cats are not drugged or altered in any way.

They have all their teeth and claws and other than getting bathed a little more than tigers enjoy, are regular happy cats. Since the Nanny Nation of North America has made everything far too sterile and safe few people will ever get a chance to touch and feel these magnificent creatures. There is a real danger in doing this and one I thought about and weighed against the incredible opportunity. There are no handlers armed with guns or stun sticks. No easy way out of the cage once you are inside and other than being hand raised by humans these are wild animals.  So into the cages I went.

I reach for words a great deal in my struggles as a writer to tell you a good story. This time I will not try other than to say if you love wildlife and cats this is as close to a spiritual experience as you will ever have. The intelligence and understanding were evident in the eyes of these creatures and anyone who has lived with a housecat knows exactly what I mean.

London VISA run part one

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

 

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

Culturally Russia

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My Russian Cab Driver And Being A Tourist.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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