Love and Easter

Happy Easter Sunday!

Lots of fun stuff today. We went to church for the first time in Russia. The service didn't start until 3pm and I think it's the first time I've ever been to church on time. The church we went to was the Moscow Protestant Chaplaincy, which is endorsed by the Evangelical Lutheran Church, the United Methodist Church, the American Baptist Church, the Reformed Church of America and the Presbyterian Church USA. Never in my life have I wished more for anything than a Cracker Barrel close by. Sneaking out a few minutes early would have missed every denomination headed out to Sunday Lunch!

I get distracted at church. I can't help it. When something happens at church that catches your attention, it's probably not supposed to be happening, therefore it is impossible to avoid. The Moscow LutheranMethodistBaptistReformedPresbyterians are no different in this regard. The church building was old and beautiful and had these amazing acoustics that needed no microphone. Of course, our minister still used one, so I have to admit, some of my attention went to looking behind me to see if there was a speaker or if that really was an announcement sans microphone.

Kids are usually the most distracting thing for me at church. Call it jealousy (as much as I want to squirm in my seat of pull my dress up over my head and hide, its deemed "inappropriate") but they are just the sweetest, funniest things to watch. Second only to their mortified parents. And based on our track record, Hubs and I will probably have a different take on the cuteness factor if we ever have kids. Generally speaking, the children in this congregation were very well-behaved. The minister giving the children's service even asked the kids questions which they answered aloud. I haven't seen a children's minister that ballsy in years. Not since little Johnny outed Daddy and his real thoughts about coming to church... eesh. The only exception was a cute couple of kids and their somewhat frazzled-looking dad. To give him credit, he should have been much more frazzled than he looked, so he was handling it pretty well. These two children did not go up front to the children's sermon. The son, probably around four years old had a perma-grin, which can only mean the most fun kind of mischief. He stayed in dad's lap, but frequently had a comment to whisper in his ear, I can only imagine it was a good old fashioned knock-knock joke or observation that the minister was wearing something similar to mom's robe. The little girl, who I'd guess to be around two years old sat by herself very still for the most part. Until she found out how much fun it was to stick her head in the space between the chair backs and make faces at the man behind her. Hilarious. And who can resist making a face back? Not this gal and, as I found out, not the serious-looking man sitting directly behind her.

The choir sang beautifully, a blend of sweet voices and accents. "He Lives" was at times drowned out by "He Liffes" and "thank you" replaced with "sank you". It made me smile, another distraction. It sounds awful, I know. I'm an adult and I need to pay attention, but I love to see people in their own humanity. I like to think that God notices more than the sermon, too, and that he enjoys us in our own humanity, especially when we're not supposed to be. He sees us. He knows we come to worship but who can resist that sweet child's giggle, even if it is during prayer time. I'm fairly certain that He's laughing out loud, and I'm almost positive I know the people laughing with him and I get kind of jealous.

After church, we went to the grocery store in search of food for our perfect Easter Dinner. We couldn't find any spiral cut ham, so we bought ham sandwich slices and were ready to go to town on them, but found some marinated pork chops instead. I don't know why we're so drawn to the pre-marinated meats. They could be soaked in pig shit for all we know. Meh. Since we didn't have ham, it was very important to make up for it with the other staples like pasta salad and deviled eggs. This is where things got a little challenging.

We don't know the Russian word for Mayonaise. And let me tell you this, you never really know how many things in your local grocery store look like mayonaise until you can't understand what any of those containers say. We didn't want another buttermilk/milk situation, so we decided to use this dressing stuff we had found last week and used in a salad. I don't really want to write about how it tastes because I honestly don't know and when I try and think of a comparison, I overthing the flavor and I start to think it tastes bad. So all you need to know is that it's not bad. And it's pink with stuff in it. We'll refer to it as Russian dressing. So we put that stuff, with dill and cheese and salami and olive chunks into our pasta salad and put it away. I have no idea what it's going to taste like. No idea. Then, on to the deviled eggs. First off, I never know exactly how long to boil an egg and it's pretty hard to guess since it doesn't change or move or float or anything that would tell you that the egg is hard-boiled. Drives me crazy. But these cooked perfectly and we mixed the Russian dressing, dill and some chipotle flakes we brought in with us. (the only spice we brought in)

It was a HIT! Everything came out perfectly! We had some dinner rolls and green beans to top everything off and it was perfect. Half of our dishes may have been slathered in an unknown dressing, but somehow it all came together. An Easter miracle!

Another successful Easter, which, I might add, is my favorite holiday! And the best part about Easter in Russia is that it's not even Easter here yet! The Russian Orthodox church recognizes Easter NEXT Sunday! If we didn't already know we were in the right place, we certainly do now.

Cheers to our Savior who gives us life, purpose, distractions, giggles and good stories.

Happy Resurrection Sunday everyone!

Love and Apartment Shopping

The time has finally come! The time when I, the blushing bride, and my handsome groom (Hubs), get to shop around for our first place all to our own. So romantic. So sweet. I was almost giddy with excitement over checking out the first batch of apartments a couple days ago!

But, like anything in life, just when we thought it was perfect and couldn't get any better, we were most tragically let down. You cannot prepare yourself for apartment hunting in Moscow, apparently. We're pretty open-minded people and had prepared for the worst, but this town will still find a way to surprise you.

The first apartment was a soviet-era building, which means it is a super high rise, dirty lookin' building that looks like its about to fall over. Inside, the apartments are very nice, and advertise "Western-Style" remodeling. Our agent from the moving company, Yana, was very nice and spoke excellent English, so we were also getting a good Moscow culture and history lesson. She said that the old buildings are owned by the city, but the apartments inside are privately owned. Owners take great care to fix up their places, but unfortunately can do nothing about the exterior of the building.

Back to the apartment. It was so beautiful inside, great kitchen, wood floors, and a super small entry way just past the kitchen. I'm talking I hit my forehead walking through and Hubs would have hit it with his chest walking though this. Not all was wasted by the tour, though. They also had the sink/toilet thing, so we asked Yana about what it was. Judging by everyone's embarressed looks and giggles, its to wash your behind. I still don't get it.

Some of you may notice that I said "everyone" in that last statement. That's because a ridiculous amount of people are around while you're looking at apartments. We were using MoveOne to help us with our transition, and they have to bring an agent to represent them. Then you have the landlord, who also has to have an agent represent them. So we all walk from room to room and talk about the perks of the apartment. When it gets to leasing time, it can get pretty rough, because they negotiate everything. And for us, they really will be negotiating since we need everything...furniture, linens, towels, pillows, oh and will you please leave the french press too?

So, scratch that first apartment. I don't need Hubs decapitated our first year of marriage. On to the next! This one was a new building, complete with gates around the building and a really nice video surveillance in our personal apartment! The weird part about this apartment was that the family was still living there, so we felt like we were snooping around their stuff. And it was dirty. But the bathroom was fantastic! The new bathtubs here in Moscow are amazing! Complete with jaccuzzi-style jets on the tub, shower head, sauna and seats ALL run by this remote looking thing inside! Mesmorizing...

In these new apartment buildings, they also advertise heated floors. My imagination goes to both ends of the spectrum on this one, so jury's still out.

The next apartment was brilliant. Top floor of a 15 story building, complete with panoramic view of the city. Brand new building, two enclosed balconies, beautiful new kitchen with lots of space, an office/guest bedroom and by far, the TACKIEST bedroom set I have ever before seen in my life. Scratch that. I'm pretty sure I saw the exact same set at the Bargain Zone off Staples St in Corpus. I don't even know if I can write a description that will do this guy justice. Its white plastic with black trim, a mirror in the half-oval headboard lit up by black light. It haunts my dreams.

The last apartment was a complete joke. Super bachelor pad, complete with mirrors or some kind of mirrored glass tinted blue on all ceilings in the house. A spiral staircase going downstairs to the bedroom where you can also conveniently hop in the shower that shares a room. Thats right, half the bedroom had tiles for the shower tub in the corner. Yana and I were pretty giggly after seeing that, and didn't know what Dan was doing still checking out closets, asking questions and ignoring the bathtub in the corner. We all had a good laugh in the car.

We should be going out on Tuesday to look at some more apartments, this time in the city center, which we're very excited about. Not because they'll be nicer, in fact they'll probably be smaller and the buildings barely standing, but they'll be where the action is. And hopefully close to the little places we've managed to half-way figure out our first week here.

Cheers to the places and spaces that we make for ourselves.

Love and New Friends

Those of you who know me well know that I HATE meeting new people. It's probably one of the only times I truly get sick to my stomach anxious in life. It's crazy. I don't know why I get so worked up about it, I'm turning 30 this year and should not be anxious about new people. Incredibly anxious. So sorry if I've only recently met you and this post offends you. I probably like you now, which is what usually happens. But whenever I was forced to meet you, I wasn't very happy about it.

Given my predisposition to meeting people, I was more than a little nervous about going to my first American Women's Club meeting here in Moscow. Sleeping, if you remember, has already been a challenge, so trying to get out of bed at 9am already had me a little disoriented, then the thought of the terrifying endeavor into the unknown hallows of the Hard Rock Cafe made me nauseous. I told Hubs I was certain that I had a fever. It was probably jet lag sickness or some other made up disease. That, mixed with the chili from La Cantina last night was definitely making me feel faint and he should be nice to me and let me lay in bed until the meeting was over. To be fair, I was feeling extra nauseous than my usual pre-meeting anxiety, and for that I do blame the chili.

But Hubs did exactly what I needed him to do. The magic words "you'll regret not going" got me moving, slow as it was. Amazing how well he knows me. (side note: when I asked him when he got to know me so well, he said "last Wednesday" - our first day in Moscow. HA!)

The meeting was good. I always try and show up late to mixers so I don't have to immediately get started with introductions, and we were right on time at 10 minutes late. We didn't really mean to be that late, but it was a relief to sneak to the back and sit. Hubs is the bravest man I know. He came in with me and sat with me the whole time. In a room full of women, making women jokes and laughing women laughs, thats a pretty big deal.

They had a special program with a Russian family that performed some traditional song and dance routines. The family had seven kids. Just another moment when you see that certain things are universal. A shy 2 year old girl not wanting to leave her daddy's lap, a grandfather holding his grandson with the tenderness only a grandparent can have, a sword fight between brothers and fancy, colorful capes drawing grandest of twirls from the girls. You don't have to look far for the reminders of home.

Back to reality. Show's almost over and I was too distracted to have an escape plan. To top it off, newcomers had to raise their hands AND introduce themselves in front of everyone. No big deal. In fact, it's probably for the best. Now people will think they've met me because I said my name and threw in a joke about the weather to boot. Golden. Now, lets get out of here.

Meeting dismissed and Hubs, unaware that I just want to get out alive suggests we eat lunch at the Hard Rock. I had been hoping the cackling laughs all of us ladies do would invoke the same sense of urgency at leaving, but to no avail. But before I could even respond, someone came up and talked to me. Asking me real questions about how things are going and if I had figured everything out. Apparently showing up to a meeting your first week in town is pretty unheard of. I don't know if it was jet lag, the Red Hot Chili Peppers poster by our table or the chili from La Cantina, but I just talked. Like we were best friends. And I felt relief.

We need people. I need people, however anxious they make me. I love Hubs and he is enough for me, but we both need that outside connection. I'd like for some things in Russia to be learned from a friend rather than trial and error. (funny as those trial and error episodes have been...) And it makes me feel important, this being connected to a group like the AWC. Hubs works hard to provide for us, the least I can do is figure out the Metro or find a less expensive grocery store. And if I think meeting new people makes me anxious, taking the Metro not knowing a lick of Russian terrifies me.

I'm not over my anxiety, even though it is constantly proven wrong. Especially yesterday when we ended up staying an extra two hours after the meeting talking with people and being the last to leave.

Cheers to the welcoming people in this world with hearts bigger than our secret anxieties.

Love and Fine Dining

One day, there will be blogs about the Russian Ballet, Symphony, Opera and all sorts of fine arts, suits and cocktail dresses. This is not that blog.

Hubs and I decided to treat ourselves to a night out for dinner last night prompted by telling some friends about the TGIFridays around the corner and getting a lot of "whats it like's" that we couldn't answer. You'll be happy to know, friends, that "flair" is still alive, well and extra hardcore here in Moscow. We sat at the bar and had an excellent bartender, Alexander, who wowed us with his magic (he made water disappear in his shaker) and even tried to get us with an old bar trick our friend Kevin still uses to impress frat boys and make a buck at the end of the night. Please, Mr. Moscow Bartender, do you really think us Americans don't know bar tricks? C'mon.

We had a blast! Curling was the sport of the night on the tv. Watch out for those Canadians, man. They're pretty good. I had chicken strips and Hubs had a burger and it was like being home again. (only we never actually ate at TGIFridays at home...) The pitcher of whatever beer we got made us a little bold and definitely not ready to go home, so we took a walk to a little place close to the Red Square we had been dying to try... "La Cantina".

What a treat!! We have found our dark, smoky hideaway for sure! Creme de la creme of Moscow nightlife! Our server knew english very well, another perk for us, and we were quickly sat and reviewing a delightful menu remeniscent of home. Kind of. I remember a "mighty migas" dish that was described as a build-your-own omlet, but the most important thing is that I saw chorizo. Delicious chorizo.

The margaritas weren't very strong, making me all the more grateful to be a Texan. Just another thing we do right is the art of the 'rita. But, there was a lady with a cowgirl hat and Daisy Dukes walking around with two bottles of Cazadores tequila and a shot glass belt that we avoided eye contact with. We wondered if maybe they gave you a virgin margarita and you had to get a shot of tequila from her. It wasn't worth the risk. Anyone who's ever had Cazadores tequila knows the dangers.

We asked about nachos and were given a plate of tortilla chips and a bowl of chili that our server warned us as spicy. For those of you who are curious, the chili really wasn't so bad. Kind of like a carne guisada with ground beef and cheese on top. And definitely not Texas chili since it had beans in it. (although, I always put beans in my chili, so I never really think much of the distinction) Spicy? Not so much, but still good and definitely a treat. I'm just thankful there were no beets in the chili.

With the entire Coldplay album our soundtrack inside, we laughed, told stories of old Mexico and imagined teaching Russians spanish toasts and songs. ("aaaaaaaahh ya ya ya!!!") It was a good, good night. We've had quite a string of those recently. And looking ahead to many more.

Cheers to the combining of cultures and, of course, to margaritas that make it easier.

Love and Housecleaning

Just for the record, I almost titled this "Love and Sleep" again. Because a good night's sleep is all I can think about... It hasn't gotten any better.

We have a maid in our new apartment. Well, they call them chambermaids, which at first conjured up all sorts of Biblical stories about "chambermaids". I'm hoping that's not part of the job description here and since neither of us want children yet, I think we're in the clear. Her name is Albina and she is super wonderful. At least, we think her name is Albina. That's what we heard when we asked. (we were pretty proud of ourselves that we could ask in Russian...) I want her to just stay and hang out with us. I say she's super wonderful, but I'm honestly not sure since we don't speak the same language. But I like to think that we're more similar than we think. I drop things while cleaning all the time and mumble under my breath. Peas in a pod, I say.

Not only that, but she brought us the best selection of Moscow maps, a children's guide to Moscow (bilingual!) and a restaurant guide. I can't remember the last time I was so excited or given a gift so wonderful! (no offense to anyone who's given me a gift recently...) We have been searching high and low for a map of the town and a Metro map and now we have them both!! I could have hugged her but I think she got the point that I was excited after the 100th time I thanked her. (It helps that one of the only words in Russian I know is "thank you") I really need to learn the Russian equivalent to "pobrecito" because I'm pretty sure she says it often when relaying our story to her friends and family after work.

It's these little things that make life easier and sweeter. We've been so blessed throughout our lives to meet people who enrich our lives, sometimes by accident and other times on purpose, and Albina is no exception. We are well taken care of. And when we get back, you'll probably want to be on our team when we play charades. We've found that we are bilingual in that and we're only getting better.

One thing we stumbled through asking Albina for help with is laundry. I don't know why we have what looks like only a washer here in our apartment, but we do. No dryer. Just washer. Frankly, I'd rather have a dryer and never have to iron than wash my clothes but we're not in America anymore, and people here apparently don't think like that. So we get the laundry started thanks to Albina, then she leaves for the day. We're pretty proud of ourselves.

Until we check the laundry again. We open the door and all the water comes out. Well, almost all of it. Hubs has very quick reaction time and managed to close the door before it all came out. So we, very logically, thought we should let it sit some more. And before you judge us, remember that all the buttons and dials are in Russian. So, we let it sit. Then I open the door an hour later and more water comes out. We're doomed. We've lost our clothes to a watery grave.

In the end, nothing a good push won't fix. Pretty sure we broke the button that should've gone off on its own, but problem-solving paid off in the form of bobby pins, then more effective cardboard wedged between the space. Back in business.

We hung all our laundry out in the bathroom and this morning our underwear could probably stand on their own, they were so stiff, but we were pretty proud of ourselves. (again)

To get the full effect of how awesome this picture is, you really have to imagine us in the middle of the bathroom, high-fiving. We high-five a lot, so really, anytime I write about being proud of ourselves, that's what we're doing. 'Merica!

Cheers to airing out our landry and being proud of it.

Love and Electronics

While we were still in Corpus Christi, TX, we were already feeling some of the signs of getting older. Hubs usually fell asleep on the couch, mid-movie around 8pm and I was right behind him around 9 or 10. Unless a special occasion kept us up till midnight. I started to have trouble with new social networking sites like Pinterest (invitation only?! a waiting list?!), every time I thought I understood Facebook Timeline, I was wrong and when I tried to use Hubs MacBook, I could not, for the life of me figure out how to eject a disk. And, to top all that off, I started agreeing with my mom on some fashion items. When did this happen?

So, when we got our phone last Friday, we were excited and a little overconfident to say the least. Both of us had iPhones in the states, on which we did all of our business. E-mails, texts, conference calls, you name it. We were smarter than our smart phones. Masters of electronics. Up to speed on all the hippest apps that pretty much did our work for us while we played fruit ninja. (and broke every record, I might add...)

But then, the unthinkable happened. Who out there remembers the old Nokia phones we had in high school? The most identifiable thing about it (besides the awesome variety of color face covers!!) was that game snake. Everyone had that phone right?! (except me. I didn't have that phone. Mom...Dad...) Well. We have that phone now. My prayers have finally been answered! It's a little smaller and the snake game is a little more developed, but we have the Nokia phone. No camera, no apps, how hard can this be?

Let me tell you how hard it can be. Very hard. Our friend helped us change the language to english, but all of our notifications are in Russian, so we just ignore them. Let's just hope one day it doesn't say "run for your life! Aliens are here!!!" because we would probably a. get the message too late and b. open it only to make it stop saying "new message".

We had trouble putting in a new contact. Yeah. When did this happen?! I'm not supposed to need help with these things yet!! I was excited about turning 30 this year. Now, maybe not so much.

After spending way too much time with trying to put in one contact, then giving up, we tried to find the clock. For the last ten years, since having a cell phone, it's all I've used for a watch. Now, to not have a watch or a cell phone with the time in large numbers centered on my home screen had been driving me crazy. I gave up looking when it became apparent that I was going to have to give up or throw the phone out the window. And my mama taught me to never give up.

Just another thing we learn to live without. Between a phone I know how to use and our favorite fajita seasoning, it's gonna be tough, but it also gives us a good amount of laughs while we work on compensating for it. To be honest, I'm not sure we can blame to phone entirely, since eventually we did figure out how to put in a contact and now the time smiles at me from the top right corner. Just took a little patience and not throwing it out the window.

Cheers to the things we don't throw out the window.

Love and Sleep

Jet lag, or whatever this thing is that makes it impossible for me to sleep more than four hours at a time is making me crazy.

Every night here so far, I've stayed up as long as I can stand, usually around 10 or 11pm (which is pretty good, considering I am dead tired by 4pm...) and I fall into a deep, deep sleep until 2am when I am WIDE AWAKE! Hubs is doing just fine, even though he tells me every morning that he didn't get any sleep. Lies. I saw it with my own eyes. He sleeps just fine.

Usually from there, I stay awake until around 6 or 7am, which would be fine if I were coherent. It's more like that I feel wide awake but the next morning, I couldn't tell you what I did, read or thought during that period. Once I pass out part two, I'm out till 1pm. I stumble out of bed and I'm soooooo sleeeeeepyyyy. But, we only have four five hour energy things left, and we have to save them for a special occasion. Luckily, this city is covered with coffee shops and they all know "espresso" and "double". I don't need no stinkin Starbucks.

I've decided that I can't just blame the time change for my recent insomnia. (which I have never suffered from in the past, thank you.) I think it's mainly my brain. Even though our street is relatively quiet, we have to leave our window open a crack or we'll suffocate from the heat in our reoom. The quiet of our little alley makes every noise that much louder, then the quiet that follows only gives my imagination time to think of the most ridiculous of explanations. Like when icicles (huh, I don't know how to spell that word. Don't know if I've ever written it before...) fall and shatter in the street. Maybe it's our disgruntled butcher lady breaking into a window with her meat cleaver. Or maybe the street is actually made of ice and the water below it is filled with artic alligators that just escaped into the streets. Oh, imagination. My blessing is my curse.

So, to everyone who worries about us (ahem, both sets of parents...) we've got the worrying covered.

Overall, we haven't seen anything worth worrying about outside of our wild imaginations. The people in downtown Corpus Christi are more terrifying and probably more likely to mug us than anyone we've seen here yet. (Minus some pretty frightenting print leggings...) Most of the time we don't even feel noticed. And when we do it's not a "hey let's cut them with a homeade ice shank" kind of notice. It's more of a "I didn't know Americans were that tall or in Moscow at all. Meh." (I really need to learn the Russian equivalent for "meh")

Feeling very happy and very home. Ready for my sleeping patterns to catch up and we'll be set.

Cheers to slee zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...