I should be in sales

12:04 PM at 12:04 PM

Sierra Nevada should have hired me as a sales rep. I guess I might be pretty good at convincing people about certain things. I get excited about recommending beer to perplexed strangers in the beer aisle at the grocery store, convincing ten people they should come with me on an off the beaten path trip to Costa Rica (all planned by me who never went there and didn't know what to expect), convincing people what art supplies would be best for them (sometimes I miss my job at the hobby craft), and convincing a friend it is a good idea to stick a raw hop bud in your mouth (only to loose all aspect of taste for the next hour or so). Now I can add convincing an editor to read my story to the list. I could say another one bites the dust, but for some reason I am just happy I was able to somewhat sell myself in my cover letter. I have always dreaded queries and cover letters, so getting some positive and individual response on that sort of made my day. Are rejection letters supposed to do that? Are they supposed to be this nice?
I guess rejection isn't as bad as I thought or maybe I am just hopelessly positive:

Dear Melissa,

Thanks so much for giving us the opportunity to read your work. We are humbled to be receiving so much great work this early in our existence.

Based on your cover letter, I\'d say we had a whole lot in common. I have also done a great deal of traveling and stare at maps endlessly...and also plan vacations I know (at least unconciously) I\'ll never take. Anyway, I\'d say on Burning the Buttes that you have a great first paragraph. It engages the reader and sets high expectations for the story, which I didn\'t feel quite lived up to those expectations. Sorry to disappoint, but anyone who loves maps is welcome to submit here anytime.


Thanks again,
M.E. Parker, Editor
Camera Obscura Journal

Screw the System

9:02 AM at 9:02 AM

I hate our health care system. Seriously. So I was sick, getting better and went to the doctor. She told me to rest and drink fluids but I am on the road to recovery. It cost me $88 to hear something I already knew. I got better. And then fell down the deep end again. Sunday night I had body aches, and my chest felt like someone was pushing down a bag of bricks on it. Monday morning I woke up with my sheets soaked and pajamas soaking with sweat. I took my temperature and had a fever. It semi-freaked me out, because I have never broken out in a sweat like this. I took IBprofin and felt fine. I went to work and worked a 7 hour shift and went out with my friends at night. I felt normal, besides my cough and sometimes uncomfortable pressure on my chest. I wish I could just be normal. I hate feeling these things and also feeling like I can't go to the doctor because I might be sent home with nothing but a high bill. This morning Lisa woke me up worried because she saw something on H1N1 that said if symptoms subdue but then return as a fever and cough call the doctor immediately. It sort of freaked me out. I went onto the CDC website which stated an emergency symtom is when a cough and fever returns. I found a way to email my doctor which was free but limited to 500 words. She got back to me right away and said if a fever persists come into the office. But I don't have a fever today. Should I go? I feel fine enough. My chest is a little tight with a cough. Why does all of this happen to me now. When my health insurance is shitty. If I knew I would only have a small co-pay I would go. Do you see what this healthcare system is doing to people? When they might actually need to see the doctor they dont. It really is a health care system for rich people. I hate it.

I was on the phone with my insurance company (blue shield) for almost an hour yesterday. They just frustrate me and by the end of the phone call I wanted to tell them to "fuck off."

On top of being sick my doctor wants me to get an echocardiogram for a heart murmor. This is pretty much the only thing that came out of my $88 doctor's apt. Oh but the echocardiogram costs $2000 unless insurance covers it. Since I have a pretty much emergency plan I called insurance yesterday to find out how I can switch to a plan that will cover the test. They told me none of their plans will because it is pre-existing. I tell them well they have been my insurance company since I was a baby and just because I am on my own plan and not my parents now, that doesn't mean I have been on their company. THey have received insurance money for me my whole life. How can this be pre-existing and they wont cover it, if they are the only ones who have covered me?! Seriously. Idiots.

I just want to get better. It is so frustrating when you feel fine enough, but not normal enough. I can't stand resting. I need to do things. I started running this last weekend (probably not a good idea since I still had a cough) but it is something I am excited about and want to do. I need to work so I can make money to pay the health insurance companies that wont completely pay for me. It is such a terrible cycle. Our government is so screwed up in many ways. I think I just need to not stress about it. The more I stress, the worse I get. If I am positive I'll recover, right?

This weekend Mendocino! I am super excited and hope for lots of mushrooms.

Karma and Kittens

6:50 PM at 6:50 PM

So much for flu shoots...I'm sick as a dog. Congestion, muscle aches, chills, cough, shortness of breath...the whole shabang. It better just be a cold and not swine flu. The muscle pains and shortness of breath scare me the most. And I have not had a beer for 48 hours...something is def. not right with me. :)

Besides working 70 hours over the last two weeks and getting sick, I also walk dogs. Mostly my morning dog walks contain strolls and ball throwing around the neighborhood. Like today. Since I wasn't feeling too hot I had to make my way through the streets. I tell Jaime to "leave it" and sam to "heel." A woman watches me from her front porch and tells me "You are talking to them like they are two year olds." I reply, "There isn't much of a difference between two year olds and dogs." She didn't reply to that. Perhaps she thought I was crazy. Little does she know I work with a bunch of two years olds (and like kids, don't mean it as degrading human kind) and my dogs are like my children.

Yesterday when I was feeling slightly ill, but better than today I took the dogs for a morning walk out by putah creek near the University airport. I love this area of davis because the creek is clear, you can't hear cars, and there is nature around you. I usually can't walk the dogs here during the months of April-October, because of foxtails...so yesterday was their first walk there since March. While walking them in the morning I noticed 4 tiny kittens playing on the trail right next to the parking lot. I thought it odd that they just stayed in the parking lot. If they were feral cats they would be more off the trail and deeper in nature. It just didn't seem right. They were all fancy colors too- bright orange and black calico, gray with tan stripes. They looked domesticated to me. I walked the dogs and they were still there, in the parking lot, waiting. No mother cat was in sight. I went to work and kept thinking of them. I am not a cat person by any means but these kittens really called to me. I took an hour off work and went back, without dogs, to go and find them. They were still there. Same spot. I tried picking them up but they ran...not far...they kept on staying near the parking lot. I couldn't get close enough to grab them. I went back to work and told my mom and Reagan. They were so tiny and helpless out there. During our lunch breaks the three of us go back. We figure three people might have a chance to catch them. No luck. These kittens are frisky. They watch us and run into bramble, then come back out. Third time out and no luck. We start calling feral cat society and the SPCA. No one can help because of budget cuts. I just stay at work and worry about them as it gets darker. They are so helpless and tiny. They don't know nature and the wild. At 6pm my mom and I leave work and say well let's just see if they are still out there. We drive through utter darkness and sure enough we can see their little ears and eyes waiting in the parking lot. Over 12 hours and they stayed in the same place. There is also a fox that runs by. First time I saw a fox in Davis and the kittens are perfect pray for it. We decide at this point we need nets, food, crate. The hunt continues.

The 5th time out to try and catch the cats (I can't help at this point because the sickness hits and hard)...but Reagan and Lisa are sucessful. They catch one by throwing a blanket over it. They patiently wait for 2 and a half hours before catching it. The others get away.

All day I think about the remaining kittens and worry. After work I drive back out there and there is no sign of them. I hope they were caught by another friendly citizen and not eaten by foxes. I am angry at the idiots who just dumped them out there.

On a positive note as I was walking to work today I found $33 on the ground. I felt guilty taking the money but after an effort of looking around, couldn't find the owner. I figured this was meant to be. It's called karma. This must be what I get for helping helpless kittens for hours.

The one that made it and went to the vet today:

What's your Beer Personality?

7:36 PM at 7:36 PM

Here is a pretty funny email forward (I usually don't like email forwards or spend time reading them) from one of my friends....rules- just by looking at the name of the beer choose the one you would pick at a bar/party/home. Then read the description...it is supposed to describe your personality. I would choose a craft beer and I'd say it describes my personality pretty dead center.


BUDWEISER
True to form, Bud drinkers are sensible, grounded and practical. They are the polar opposite of daydreamers and don't easily get carried away. These beer drinkers also don't like authority—can anyone say union?—and are emotionally steady people who live in the here and now. However, what may be a bit surprising is that people who prefer Bud can also be very spontaneous and tend not to do much advance planning.

Budweiser drinkers are 42% more likely to drive a truck than the average person, 68% more likely to choose a credit card with flexible payment terms and 42% more likely to use breath-freshening strips every day.



BUD LIGHT
Are Bud Light drinkers just Bud guzzlers on a diet? Not a chance. Bud Light personalities actually skew quite different from their more-caloric sibling. Keep in mind, this was the beer choice for President Barack Obama during his so-called "Beer Summit" this summer when he invited police officer James Crowley and Harvard professor Henry Gates over to the White House for a beer and a make-up chat. (The cop chose Blue Moon and the professor selected Red Stripe.)

Bud Light drinkers profile as lacking in carefulness. They are grounded like their Bud brethren, but respect authority. Bud Lighters can also have frat boy-like personalities, particularly when it comes to personal risk-taking. In regard to others, these good-time guys and gals are accepting of most everyone and generally easy to get along with.

Bud Light drinkers are also 48% more likely than the average person to play the lottery every day and 34% more likely to never buy organic products.



MICHELOB ULTRA
Have you seen the 2008 TV spot that's still on about the hip, handsome young male executive dashing out of a meeting to put on running gear? He meets up with an equally fetching athletically garbed woman for an inner-city run before both magically change into trendy threads and hit a fabulously decorated rooftop-bar party with even more young and beautiful friends—all drinking Michelob Ultra, of course. Every personality trait Mindset Media came up with appears there.

Michelob Ultra drinkers rate high in superiority; that is, they think highly of themselves and can be a little bit conceited. They care what other people think about them and want to appear perfect. They also tend to be take-charge types with strong opinions, and can even be confrontational. Michelob Ultra drinkers are 43% more likely than the average person to consider sustainability a priority, and 34% more likely to buy life insurance.



CORONA
"Where's the party?" is probably an oft-asked question by Corona and Corona Light drinkers. They are busy and energetic people who are also extremely extroverted. They're people persons who seek out the company of others whether in a group or just one-to-one. Corona drinkers do more and see more people in one day than most people see in a week. But the life-of-the-party Corona drinkers also have an altruistic side; they care deeply about other people and see themselves as giving and warm.

Corona drinkers are 91% more likely than average to buy recycled products and 38% more likely to own three or more flat-screen TVs.



HEINEKEN
There's a slang term that could sum up Heineken drinkers: posers. These self-assured people believe they are exceptional, get low scores on modesty and high scores on self-esteem. They love their brand badges—a role the distinctive green glass bottle may play—and in fact, this group is attracted to luxury products in general. They are also energetic and dynamic and enjoy being both the center of attention and in the middle of the action.

People who choose Heineken as their favorite beer are 58% more likely to have American Express cards, 45% more likely to be early adopters of new mobile phones, and 29% more likely to drive sports cars.



BLUE MOON
The personality traits of people who prefer Blue Moon, a Belgian style wheat beer, tracked similarly to the same type of people who prefer craft beers—which means Blue Moon drinkers probably don't know it's a Molson Coors Brewing Co. family product made in Colorado.

Blue Moonies are socially liberal and usually quite willing to go against convention. They really hate moral authorities, and believe children should be exposed to moral dilemmas and allowed to come to their own conclusions. They can also be sarcastic and snide in order to get a point across.

People who drink Blue Moon beer are 105% more likely than the average person to drive hybrid cars, 77% more likely to own Apple Mac laptops, 65% more likely to purchase five pairs or more of sneakers every year, and 32% more likely to not be registered voters.


CRAFT BEERS
These specialty made beers get lumped into one category both because there are fewer fans (and thus less statistically significant data) of them, but also because the personalities of one type fairly well describe another. This group is more likely to spend time thinking about beer rather than work. They are more open-minded than most people, seek out interesting and varied experiences and are intellectually curious. Craft-beer drinkers also skew as having a lower sense of responsibility—they don't stress about missed deadlines and tend to be happy-go-lucky about life.

Craft-beer lovers are 153% more likely to always buy organic, 52% more likely to be fans of the show "The Office" and 36% more likely to be the ones to choose the movie they are going to see at the theater.


ABSTAINERS
It probably doesn't take a psychographic profile to discover that those people who refuse to drink beer at all don't like to loosen up very much. They are socially conservative and see many issues as black and white. Teetotalers honor tradition and authority and prefer a less-hectic social life.

Getting Older

2:25 PM at 2:25 PM

It is funny how when you are young you impatiently count the days till your next Birthday, but when you get older you start to count how many days you have left before you have to add another year to your age. I can't really tell when or what year it is that I started not really thinking Birthdays are a big deal. I get excited about Christmas and the holidays more so than my birthday (I look forward to lots of family, good food, and drink). This year I am counting the days to Palina's Birthday (big 21!) and didn't for my own. There is just a point in your life when your birthday doesn't feel like the birthday's and excitement you had as a kid. I don't mean to sound down and depressed about it, because I am not. I just like to have a low-key day doing the things I like best. Which is exactly what I did this year.

I woke up at exactly 2:50 am on my Birthday morning. Totally by accident and I don't usually ever wake-up in the middle of the night. I looked at the clock and thought, 26 years ago I was only 4 minutes old. Crazy how I woke up at almost the exact time I was born. I always love moments like this and think they are special- things happen for a reason. After combing my hair in the dark for any gray hair, I crashed out again until the actual morning...when I was awaken by my favorite Peets Coffee Pumpkin spice latte and a new season of Weeds on DVD from Lisa. For those of you who don't know...Weeds is my all time favorite show and has BRILLIANT writers.

I took Wednesday off work, along with Lisa who wanted to take me to Santa Cruz. I really love Santa Cruz and appreciate it so much more that I don't live there anymore. Every time I visit I explore places I never knew existed when I was living there. We started the day by enjoyed nature in Henry Cowell Redwood State Park. I love the smell of redwoods and the ferns that grow underneath them. Being in the redwood forest reminded me how much I love nature and depend on it to be happy. I walked through the forest and realized one thing that is good about older (non kid) birthdays is that you can walk through nature and appreciate it, this life, that I have and was given because of my parents. The forest was practically empty (thanks to it being a work-day in the middle of the work-week) which was nice. We only ran into a few deer here and there.

After a few hours of hiking we made our way to Seabright Brewery for lunch and beer tasting. I had the Pelican Pale Ale which is the brewey's signature brew. It was probably the weirdest pale ale I have ever had. Very straw-like and it had a hoppy kick to it. It tasted like a wheat beer with extra hops. It was odd. Not a mixture I was expecting. Of course the Blur was what won my heart. The brewery describes it as: "A tradition IPA. Although golden in color this is not a light beer. With more than 65 bittnerness units its got a bite to it. This is a very agressive tasting beer." It was delicious and went really nicely with my black bean burger and fries. I ended up buying my first growler filled with it to bring home to share with my Pop. It is always amusing to me when I buy the most hoppy beer and the reactions I get. The waitress asked me if I wanted a smaller size? And gave me a look, like are you sure? It is bitter. And it was bitter. A perfect birthday brew.

Bellies full and head spinning a full buzz- Lisa took me to the Teahouse Spa for an hour soak in a hottub with tea and sauna. It was so relaxing and one of my favorite places and memories of Santa Cruz (from when I lived there). Soaking in the tub I felt like this was the most relaxed I ever could be. i also fell in love with their lavendar shampoo that is locally made in Santa Cruz.

After the hottubs we had to go back to the brewery, because in my buzzed state I realized I forgot my sunglasses there. Found the sunglasses and drove to the next brewery...but on the way stopped at the beach. We noticed the beach was empty (no one). This was the most empty I have ever seen the beach in Santa Cruz. So we broke the leash laws and let Jaime run in the waves and dig in the sand. The sky was so clear and the air so fresh. I ran like a kid across the beach and thought age is so over-rated. I felt so lucky to be able to experience my two favorite things in nature all in one day: redwoods and ocean.

We stopped at Santa Cruz Mountain Brewery which was in a warehouse and all local. I was disapointed in their IPA after my Blur. But was excited about the strawberry cupcakes from the bakery next door. We ended our day in Santa Cruz with a stop at Patagonia where I got a new capilene shirt for those cold nights sleeping in the tent. There was a little traffic on the way home, but we amused ourselves by making words out of business signs: Nagina Travels became Vagina Travels. And once again I was reminded I might be 26 but I still have the humor of a junior high kid.

I ended the night having a special dinner with my family (I missed Palina though) and was so excited to see my Pop got me that special Estate brew from Sierra Nevada. Can't wait to try it. It was probably what I wanted most of all.

So even though I am a year older- I am happy to be experiencing and living life. I feel thankful for all the people close to me in my life- friends and family alike. I feel so loved and grateful. Being 25 was a good year- I wrote a thesis, got a masters, had good beer, good laughs, adventures, and went to the motherland, Russia. I grew-up in some ways, I hope, and experienced tons of good times with family and friends. Life is good. I can't wait for another year of memories.

The Places We Call Home

11:34 AM at 11:34 AM

Ever since I have been back from Russia I fell into a sort of funk. I was homesick for a country and place I had a strong connection with. Over the years I have come to know myself as someone who doesn't like change and cannot stand the idea of moving away unless I am completely comfortable with the place. I have felt this comfortableness with very few places in my lifetime-Mendocino, Davis, Seattle, and now Moscow. It is something hard to describe to people and hard for others to understand. I even have a hard time understanding myself- why these places? I mean I travel to Costa Rica, Canada, Boston, and many other places...I love each vacation and trip and place and memories formed from these places, but I never feel a yearning for them like I do for my top favorite places. As a way to try and understand place and why, I have been thinking alot about identies and who are we based on the places we connect to or live in. I mean, luckily, I was able to do a whole thesis on this topic and explore it through creative stories rather than research and academic articles. I was able to create fictional characters to figure out why they do what they do and who they are based on their locations. My thesis and stories allowed me to put my questions and ideas on the page, but conclusions still seem far off, like a journey that may never end until life does. Do we feel connected to the places based on only certain experiences? That doesn't make sense. I mean one of the coolest things I have ever seen in my life were breaching humpback whales (only feet away from a boat) in the Atlantic Ocean off the coast of Boston. or Oktoberfest in Munich- no party or beer could amount to this event. These experiences have not pushed me to want to live in Boston or Munich. Could it be the homely experiences that bring comfort? Sitting in a Moscow Apt. while it rains outside, with a beer and good music? Or being able to eaisly navigate in the dark through my old room/child-home house in Davis while there is a power-outage? Or listening to the ocean waves while enjoyed a coconut latte at Moodies in Mendocino? Or instead of the small comfortable experiences, could it be the people? Family that is there to take shots of vodka with you in Seattle, or family to go mushroom hunting with in mendocino? This last weekend I went to visit Palina in San Luis Opisbo and I think I really needed to. Ever since spending a few days with my little sister I have felt so much better about being back in California. I remembered how hard it is to be away from people you have a strong connection with. I wished she lived closer to me so we could laugh about the small things in life and enjoy dog expeditions together. So is it the people that allow us to yearn and connect to the places? Or could it be the challenges and outcomes we experience at a place? Like graduating from college (twice) while working harder than ever in my life in Davis? Or learning the small things in Russia- like reading metro signs or ordering a beer in Russian?
Place.
It has to be one of my favorite words, because of all the unanswered questions running through my mind everyday.

A Country Worth Meeting

2:10 PM at 2:10 PM

After Saint Petersburg, coming back to Moscow felt like I was coming back to a familiar place that grew on me- a place I once was shocked by, I felt welcomed by. In our last week we relaxed more, took a break from tourist monuments and did everyday things- went to grocery stores, rode the metro over a dozen times, went to a mall, drank more beer, visited with family, and caught up on sleep. Every night before bed time I would study the Russian alphabet and whisper the sounds of the letters outloud. On the metro, walking through the city, and while in the grocery store I would put the sounds of letters together to read the words. Learning to read at least a limited amount in the last week made me feel as accomplished as finishing my 162 page thesis. The challenge of learning to say the words was only half the work. The words I could now semi-pronouce were unfamiliar to me- a vocabulary that became a new challenge to understand and learn. In my last week in Moscow I grew so excited and passionate about learning a language that seemed to daunting and intimidating in the first week. On my last day in the city- I felt brave enough to take the metro without my mom's translating help and even ordered two beers byself from a kiosk on the street. It might seem like a silly task- but the kiosks sell row of beers from behind a window. It is not like a grocery store where you can choose your bottle and take it up to the register to be rung up. You have to stick your head into the window of the kiosk and say the name of the beer, how many, and if you prefer it in a bottle or can. All of which I was able to do and then skip my way back to the embassy.

While I spent my last week focusing on the language, I also found myself finding comfort in the rushed city filled with unhelpful people. I started to notice Russians who all seemed to only reply in "niyet" and a head shake, were offering directions. Cars in the busy city traffic that would pummel any pedestrian that stupidly stepped into the streets were stopping to let people pass. I started to realize this busy and harsh city is really warm with a nice kick or punch to it. I started to relate to the fast pace and realize at home when I loose my patience with long lines, traffic, slow walkers or bike riders- it is really the Russian in me talking.

I spent time learning more about my Russian family- I met my mom's cousin's daughter Dasha, and her three young children. The youngest, Liza, who was eight told me she will teach me Russian. She is going to mail me letters she will cut out herself and words that start with each letter. I also grew closer to the "American" family and was able to watch Stefan quickly learn to ride a ripstick, along with listen to him recite memorized poetry (not at the same time, although maybe next time I will ask him to recite the poetry while on the ripstick). I had an amazing time talking to Dina about fashion, music, art, and connect on humorous level about the challenges of different Countries. Peter and I were able to go with my Pop to Tinkhoff a Russian brewrey that brewed its own beer there. We were hoping to finally get the hoppy stuff we were missing back at home, but found the Russians strictly brew pilsners (I had an unfiltered pilsner that was quite good) and lagers. I grew to feel at home in Peter and Dina's cozy apartment. The warmth, good food and drink, wonderful company, and laughs made me feel like I had just as much family in Russia as I do here, in Davis, the place I feel so tied too.

In our last days we went to izmaylovo (a Russian flea market of sorts that had artists selling things, and Russians selling antiques and items from the war that carried a weight and story that felt heavy). I was able to buy hand carved and painted matroyshkas like I have never seen before, cute antique postcards from the 50s and have writing still on them, a few other small things to bring home, and of course, I bargained to get some fur tails for the dogs. No one would believe me I would do it from the guy selling fur hats, but I felt like he might have some tails. Sure enough he had a black garabage bag full of them and to my surprise he accepted my deal of $1 each. After our big day of shopping we had the daunting task of trying to figure out how to pack everything back into our suitcases. Not only was it a hard task, but we were going to smuggle alot of things across customs- so hiding these items and deciding what the stories were going to be if we got caught were part of the challenge. Luckily we made it through customs with 6 bottles of vodka (well over the limit), fur tails, antiques that were not supposed to leave the country, and black caviar that we accepted as a gift from Nina's Maxime hours before the flight. As I walked through the Russian airport and security asked me "Have you accepted a gift from anyone while staying here in Russia?" I said no, like any good Russian would, and wished I could tell the security officer that the biggest gift I accepted was connecting to your country on so many different levels.

It has almost been a week since I have been home and I have been trying to write everyday but couldn't. I felt sick and like part of me was still left in Russia. My mind was numb and my head cloudy. I couldn't adapt back to this time and never had this problem before. It was like jetlag that never would get better. It was almost a heartache for a country I wish wasn't half way around the world from me.

The Davis streets that are usually so crowded at this time of year with all the students back, feel deserted. The signs that I now can read, feel dull and boring. The people in the grocery stores and airports all feel like they are going to slow. The hoppy beer that I drank like water now feels more bitter than ever. The english being spoken around me blurs together into sounds I no longer try to make out. The escalators at the airport feel slow and skinny.

I know every time you travel you grow as a person, but this Russia trip was huge for me. Maybe it is because I am in a point in my life where everything seems uncertain. But in Russia I learned two of the most important things I need right now in my life- bravery and courage. Costa Rica was an adventure with lots of memories. Germany was a beautiful country with amazing beer- that will always be one of my favorite places on earth. Russia was where I went to become brave and couragous. Through my connections with the culture, the people, my heritage and mom's memories- I have learned that the world is at my finger tips and is waiting for me to go explore it.

Wanderers

5:27 AM at 5:27 AM

After watching Russians drink in the streets, in the trains, and in the park - we decided we had to fit in. It started on the train (beers) that we took to find Peterhof Palace and Park which looks out into the Baltic sea/Bay of Finland. We found ourselves lost. Without a map everything is disorienting and when we try to buy a map they are all out. I am usually good with directions, but since everything is written in the Russian alphabet I feel just as lost as everyone else. I think of last season on the Amazing Race (my favorite TV show) where the racers complained that Russia was the hardest country to find their way though. We finally get off the train or elektrechka, which ended up being fun to take because we past through the country side. When we get off and try to ask for help everything is: I don't know or no. Russia is a country of stern people. I love the country, don't get me wrong, but people don't help you here like they do anywhere else. When you go too slow they tell you to go faster. When you are lost they tell you to get lost. When you are bare-handed they tell you to find a bottle.

Off the train the stop looks wrong: a few apartment buildings rise next to sparse forest and meadows. Dogs sun themselves in group and a woman walks her cow on a rope. We find a bus and ask the driver how we can get to Peterhof. He tells us to get on. We do, without knowing the stop or where exactly the bus is going. After a ride back in the direction we came from on the train, we find a huge palace and crowds of people. A quick walk around the palace is all we need- we came here for the sea. The park around the palace costs $9 to get in. We say forget it and walk down the street, past the fence of the park and older buidlings. Brides walk by yelling in Russian on their cell phones, Russian teenagers laugh and drink beer while enjoying the clear weather. We hit the end of the road and find a smaller local park that is next to Peterhof. We walk through it and finally find the sea. The trees open up onto a small beach that is mostly rocks and corse sand. The water is cold. We watch some Russians fishing. Peter asks what kind they are catching. They reply, "all kinds." We then watch teenage boys chug their beers and run into the freezing water. In the distance we can see Petersburg and other islands, maybe Finland. We are still disoriented.



Once we find the train station- after a nice walk through birch forests that are changing colors and purchasing some red russian berries from a Babushka- we catch the train in just the last minute. Driving back through the countryside we make our way to Saint Petersburg to look for food. Peter recommends a Georgian resuarant that we happily agree on. I have never had Georgian food. On the walk over we stop at a street vendor and buy real baltic amber jewelry for dirt cheap, but the restuarant is the true highlight of the day. It is a small place, that looks to be family owned. The paintings inside make you feel like you stepped off the cold Russian streets into a heated bright colored country. My mom is mostly excited they make their own home-made georgian wine. She orders a pitcher which they serve in a clay pitcher. The food then comes- georgian salad (almost like a greek salad but with more garlic and nuts), then stuffed bell pepers and eggplant (stuffed with a nut puree), and then i had potatoes with wild chanterelles. It was all delicous. My mom and Peter enjoy the wine so much that they ask if they can bring some home. The waiter runs down into the basement (where the kitchen is located) and pours them 2 liters of homemade wine in a coca-cola bottle. As Peter says, "The best Coca-Cola I ever had." We enjoy Saint Petersburg at night and make our way back to our hotel.


The next day I started to feel a little sick. So many people smoke so I almost thought it was an allergy, but today I def. feel worse (congestion, tight chest, sore throat). A common cold. I try not to let it get in the way of things though. We spend our final half day walking around older Saint Petersburg, looking at all the old buildings that withstood the war. They are not as polished as the palaces or churches and this intrigues me more. The cracks and chipped paint is beautiful to me. We eat lunch at an Austrian bakery and make our way back to the airport. I take my happy pill that calms me and puts me to sleep on the ride back to Moscow. It takes us longer to get from the airport to Peter and Dina's apartment in the traffic, but once we do I fall asleep early.

Today I tried to rest alot and had a low-key day. I went to Gorky park for a short walk and to a Russian bookstore where I purchased Russian childrens books that i might be able to read at one point. The bookstore had two stories and had any type of book you were looking for, in addition to school supplies, frames, cds. movies, puzzles, and craft supplies. There were also stuffed dead animals here and there. A dead stuffed squirell staring back at you in the childrens section might make you jump at first glance. This is Russia afterall...

Saint Petersburg

12:16 PM at 12:16 PM

Most my favorite authors and many books that I enjoy all take place in Saint Petersburg. I wasn’t going to pass-up a trip to the former city of Leningrad while being in Russia. When plans fell through my mom’s Russian family booked us a fancy hotel in the center of Saint Petes. In addition they got us plane tickets on a Russian commuter plane that would take us one hour and ten minutes from Moscow to Saint Petersburg. I wasn’t excited to get on another plane, but after popping a xanax I didn’t mind taking a bus into the middle of the airport to load into a smaller plane through stairs. When we took off the whole think shook and I fell asleep. Thank god for medication. As soon as we checked into our hotel we went to find food. I suggested the Idiot CafĂ© (created after Dostoevsky’s novel- The Idiot) and we found it after a few circles through town. We had probably one of the best meals in Russia yet. I had potato filled pliminy with wild mushroom sauce. My mom had, and I tasted, fried potatoes and wild forest mushrooms. WE had huge glasses of beer and complimentary free vodka shots (we toasted to Palina and such a cool person she is). After feeling warm and fuzzy we hit the city streets.

We circled streets more- lost (the vodka in our blood didn’t help) looking for Nabokov’s house/museum. I finally found it (right behind our hotel) and we got tickets. The museums all have two ticket prices: for Russians and foreigners. My mom does a good job as coming off as Russian- they give her the Russian price and me the student price. My poor Pop doesn’t pass and they charge him the American price. I think it is the baggy pants and American brewery shirts. Once we got into Nabokov’s house (it is three stories but only one was open to public) I felt inspired by his brilliance. It was amazing to see his butterfly collections, typewriter, and pencils. After visiting his house I found a bookstore and bought Lolita (one of my all time favorite novels) in Russian. I can’t read it, but it feels special to have one of my favorite novels in the original language of its author. Afterwards we hit the streets went to a Russian bakery, had a beer in the street, and walked around the Church of spilled blood. Saint Petersburg has so many more tourists than Moscow. The dress is more casual, but the cigarette smoking seemed intensified. It reminds me a lot of Paris. The old buildings make me close my eyes and try to imagine the stories and history behind them. There is a lot of graffiti and crumbling down buildings. I learn the Russian word for dick thanks to the graffiti. My younger cousin somehow- he is my mom’s cousin’s son- told us Saint Petersburg is beautiful but a sad city. He warned us before coming that the city has a sad energy surrounding it because of everything it has gone through during the war times. He claims there is bad karma here. I feel the sadness under the layers of tourists and cigarette smoke. After the first day I feel more connected to Moscow (probably because of my family) but enjoyed St. Petes.






Today we had a lazy morning and left via metro, then bus to the outskirts of Saint Petersburg for some much needed nature. We made our way out to Pavlova Park and forest. It took almost one hour and a half, but I enjoyed watching the countryside and imagining the battles fought on this land. Once in the park we enjoyed some much needed nature. We walked through small trails, hunted for mushrooms (no luck) and watched the fall colors change on the trees. It rained off and on through the day- bringing less people out and more beauty. Locals walked their dogs through the small trails and tourists took horse drawn carriages through the more traveled paths. We took small trails into the woods and were the only ones at moments. We had two men approach us in the woods and said- “I know you are from here because you don’t have a bottle of something in your hands.” We find out one of the guys is the theatre technician for the Matrinsky ballet. We ask him if he is hunting for mushrooms and he replies that he is only here to drink. Russians sure like their alcohol. The park is beautiful- birch trees, linden trees, and a beer garden. There are lots of people taking wedding pictures and wedding parties drinking vodka and singing in the park. When we were finding our way out of the park we see a couple walk off the path into the forest(not far off). The man drops his pants and while peeing on a tree his partner (wearing stiletto heels in the woods) slides down an embankment and falls flat on her face. She lies silently in the mud for a moment and then says “Nichevo Strashnavo.” Which translates to “Nothing Scary,” and gets up. Only in Russia will you see women in stilettos falling in the woods. We joked that the bus will now charge her the higher rate- they have a regular rate and a higher rate if your clothes are dirty. We make our way back to Saint Petersburg on the train and then metro. We buy blueberries and salad from a babushka on the street and then have a delicious dinner in the hotel. I tried studying the Russian alphabet and have high hopes of learning more and more of the language that connects me to my heritage.

Adapting to the Moscow Life

12:04 PM at 12:04 PM

You think our government is corupt- welcome to Russia.

Russia has adapted so much of the Western Capitalism, yet they are still holding on strong to their Soviet ways. Stalin's Seven Sisters (some of the tallest buildings in Moscow) rise above everything else- the hammer and sicle constantly reminding you of the icons during the times. It seems like a majority of the men here still cut their hair in the soviet mullet. You tend to walk or drive the streets and fear the police more so than criminals. Moscow supposidly has an entire underground section- with roads and rivers and bunkers- that is completely secret and off-limits. Who knows what goes on down there. My great uncle who faught in world war two and was injured is treated above anyone else in Moscow. When we went to museums today he gets in free to anything and doesn't have to wait in lines. He asked the guard where to the park the car and the guard told him to drive it onto the sidewalk right in front of the gate of the museum. He reassured my great uncle that he would watch over it while we were inside. Sure enough he paced the car until we returned. Guarded it like it was royalty....because my great uncle was associated with the Soviet Government at a time.

Some more history I am learning from my family- My Dedushka's father (my great grandpa) and his brother worked for the government/Stalin. They lived in one of the Seven Sister's (an apt. building at the time). Because Stalin was so worried about traitors he deemed my great grandfather as a traitor. He sent his men to come and remove my great grandfather. He was never heard from again. They banished my dedushka, his sister (my aunt we are visiting) and their mother to a village. Shortly after my great grandmother grew ill and died- leaving my dedushka and my great aunt orphans. They decided to come back to Moscow and jumped onto a cargo train. My aunt said she remembers the bombs going off in the country side while taking the train. She would lay on top of my dedushka (who was 5 years old) and protect him as they made their way to the city. They found their way back to Stalin's Seven Sister Apt building and asked their uncle to take them in. He did for a short time but told them they had to leave, he didn't want anything to do with them because they were labeled as children of a traitor. This was the government during World War II.

Skip ahead to the 70s. When my dedushka decided to escape from Russia with my mom, uncle, and my Babushka. When they finally escaped the KGB showed up at my Great Aunt's door. (these are details added to the previous story). They took her away. For four days they imprisoned her and who knows what else they did to her. Probably torture- emotional at least. They told her she had to bring my mom's family back or they would take away her job. At the time she was the main architect designing the Russian White House (huge building you can see outside Dina and Peter's apt.) She was meant to win awards for the building. But she didn't tell them where my mom's family was. So they returned her to her husband but took away her job (scratched her name from the awards and lists of architects like she never existed). Since this experience she has never been the same person. Only she knows what went on during those 4 days with the KGB.



Moscow is a huge city. But as I uncover my family's history, I feel like I can look at the buildings around me and they are all connected to me. It feels small in many ways. Along with the stories I am learing, I tend to do touristy things...

Yesterday we found the Literature Cafe. The literature Cafe is a small place that is like a restuarant/museum. You walk into a dungeon of sorts into an underground area that has some original books. They serve beer and typical Russian food. I walked through the cafe (multiple rooms) and imagined the writers that hid there during the war to write their masterpieces. After that we went to visit Moscow University. I couldn't get inside because everything is guarded. My cousin tells me there was a bombing in the Moscow Metro years back and since then every building is highly protected. It was still a beautiful campus (the place my grandparents went) and the forests and river around it made me feel connected to nature. It was quiet and a nice break from the city streets.

Today we went to Novodevichy cemetery and convent (from the 1500s). The cemetery was beautiful- fall colors in the trees, headstones like statues. I felt honored to visit Chekov and Gogol's graves. There were also famous ballerinas which reminded me of Lisa. And lots of historical people- like Stalin's wife who he shot when she was 31. The church had real gold on it. It was breath taking. After the cemetery and convent we headed to the Tretyakov Art Gallery where my mom went as a child. The paintings were breath-taking. I couldn't take pictures inside and it was impossible to sneak (guards sat in every small room). But the paintings were beyond words- history, landscapes, portraits. All Russian artists. My mom showed me the same room she enjoyed to sit in as a child. It probably was the best room (no bias) but the nature paintings were amazing. The detail and brushstrokes so well ahead of their times. Enjoying good art makes me have butterflies in my chest.

After the gallery (we did a ton today) Dina wanted to take me to a Russian mall. A real Russian experience. It was intense but so worth it and tons of fun. Women crowded around $300 shoes and $1000 fur coats. I tried on some real tight Russian jeans- with accesorized zippers and all. I felt Russian momentarily and then decided it was in my blood and I am always Russian. I don't need the dress to show it. Dina and I made it back on our own through the city (I was proud of us-with the limited Russian) and then got off the metro. We saw the best Russian dress (too funny for words) of the day: a woman, probably mid 50s in a full blown unitard like suit (all one peice and long sleeve, long legs) tight as heck....and leopord print. Of course coupled with heels. If I had my camera out I would have snuck a picture. We ended the day buying two beers for $1.50 from a street kiosk. Couldn't be better.

Tomorrow we fly to Saint Petersburg. When it is quiet at night or when I am in the shower. I close my eyes and only hear Russian....

Day Two and Three

12:15 AM at 12:15 AM

After being so tired the day before- sleeping through the night and adjusting to the 11 hour time difference didn’t seem like such a challenge. I woke up on the second day feeing like I had the best sleep of my life. After a lazy morning Peter met us and took us to have piroshki inside a church. They cost less than a dollar each and were stuffed with cabage or potatoes. Probably the best piroshki I have ever had. After a filling lunch we had our first metro express to my mom’s uncle and aunt’s apt. The metro station is really fancy here. Once you get under-ground you can purchase anything from beer and cigarettes, to toys and trinkets, to lacy underwear. It reminded me of the underground fuzganger zones in Germany. Each metro station is different. The one we went to had chandeliers and marble like floors. Paintings hung on walls. Peter told us it was build by Stalin’s architects as a bunker of sorts.

Taking the metro was a breeze with my mom’s Russian and Peter’s experience and Russian. Once we arrive at my aunt and uncle’s we are faced with more food: home-made dolmas, more soup, bread, eggplant dish, dessert. I don’t want to be rude and they keep piling my plate, so I eat till I feel sick. My parent’s joke I look three months pregnant and will have a food baby. After a huge second lunch my mom’s cousin takes us out of the city. First we go to Catherine the Great’s Dacha and park. Since it was a Monday we couldn’t go inside (all museums are closed then), but we were able to walk around the park, enjoy the woods, and the amazing buildings. I was shocked by how many kids there were. Russians do not hesitate to take their children outside. We order Kvas (drink made from Rye bread and sugar) and walk around the park some more. On our way back into the city we stop at the park/ground where Ivan the Terrible has a church and the small village. There was a beautiful apply orchard with delicious green apples.

Once we get back into the car we hit the most terrible bumper-to-bumper traffic. Since I have been stuffing myself all day my stomach now presses against my bladder and makes me need to pee. I try to hold it, but I have never had to pee so badly in my life and feel like I will pee in the car. I jump out of the car, dodge through traffic, my dad runs after me and we only find over ten feet of Kremlin wall around us. I run into the park and every bush seems to have a kissing couple under it. I ask my dad to find out where a bathroom is. He finally asks a woman who ignores him (Later we find out my dad asked the woman where the ladies make-up room is). Once I finally find it I pee all over the place. It was so embarrassing it was hilarious. We finally get out of the park and are faced with huge Moscow streets packed with traffic. How we will find the car is beyond me. But luckily, within 5 minutes, I spot it pulled over in front of Lenin’s Library under a HUGE Lenin statue with emergency brakes flashing. We have to go back underground to cross the street and emerge by the car to find out my mom’s cousin went to look for us without a cell phone. Probably ½ a million people are in the park. My mom is sitting in the passenger seat of the car- eyes wide- Lenin loaming over it all as the sun it setting. We call Peter (who is waiting for us with Dinner) and tell him we have a situation. He is relieved our situation doesn’t involve police or arrest. Finally, Garick finds his way back to the car and we all laugh at the ridiculous situation. We end day two with yummy Russian beers and a good night’s sleep.


We have a lazy morning on the third day and make our way through the city to an old Soviet restaurant (decorated with Lenin statues and the typical Hammer and Sickle). We order a huge lunch ($17 for four people) of cheboureki (stuffed with mushrooms and potatoes) and unfiltered Siberian Corona. Probably the best thing I have ever had. While we are eating we notice people in work suits getting a quick bite to eat and drink (most of them have a beer or share a bottle of vodka before returning to work). As we are leaving one of the men who just downed half a bottle of vodka comes up to us and asks if we are german. For some reason I am always mistaken as german in foreign countries. We reply American and he tells us he has a souvenir for us that is so special we wouldn’t believe it (he is telling this all in Russian). He pulls from his satchel, wrapped in newspaper, a pinecone and hands it to my mom- from Siberia he tells us and gives it to her. Then he continues on to tell us that he was in the army – a solider. And he doesn’t understand why there are so many black people (most likely triggered since we said we are American and mostly Obama comes to mind). He says- one or two are ok, but more just means there is more crime. Russia is a pretty raciest country. We leave and thank him from the pine-cone. Making our way to the grocery store. I am shocked by how cheap vodka is here- $4-$6 for an average bottle. Beer is just over a dollar for a larger bottle. A box of tea is $1. Some things in Moscow are cheap, but do not be fooled- coffee costs about $6 a latte.

After my first Russian grocery store experience my mom tells us she knows we are close to her old neighborhood and we make our way through the city streets to find her old apartment. It is amazing how much she remembers. Without ever taking a wrong turn she leads us straight to the windows of her old apartment. It is an emotional moment and we all stare up at the second story windows that where my mom grew up. I watch and remember the story where my mom’s childhood dog almost falls out the window after the cat she chased out the window. My mom watches the apartment in silence and I can only feel her energy and imagine what she is experiencing after 34 years of leaving the place in a rush- with nothing. I get teary eyed and feel so lucky to be here, standing next to my mom, re-visiting the places of her childhood. How many people are able to do this? Especially after her amazing story where she escaped with her family. After looking at her apartment she leads us up her street past an old church and turns down an ally in silence. She leads us behind tall apartment buildings to run-down building. This is how I walked to ice-skating every day. This is the place. It is beyond me how she remembers this. A place you would never find on your own. The entrance is open and Dina suggests we go inside. We walk in and there is a guard/receptionist at the desk (every building seems to have someone that will allow you to enter or not). My mom tells the woman her story and how she is returning after 34 years. The woman allows her to go into the back-yard where the ice-skating rink used to be (now a tennis court and tennis center). My mom sits on the stairs and I can only imagine her memories of skating around the rink and doing spins. She points to a fence and says all the parents were glued to it, competitively watching their children. She reminds me this is the fence a girl stuck her tongue onto as a child and got it stuck in the freezing winter. They had to pour hot water to remove her tongue from the fence. The building where she had choreography class is being renovated but still is the same (paint chipping from over 30 years ago). When we leave my mom thanks the receptionist who smiles (they don’t smile in Russia so this is a rare moment) and tells my mom: “Now you can come back to learn tennis.”

My mom leads us through more ally ways and finds her old French school which is exactly the same as she remembers. We try to enter but the guard tells us we can’t and are not allowed. We return outside and Dina remembers we have our embassy papers. She says to go back in and show the papers. My mom pulls out her embassy papers and goes into the school, I follow. She tells the guard it has been 34 years and she travelled all the way from America to show her oldest daughter where she went to school. She asks if the papers will make a difference. This catches the guard’s interest and she says she will get the principal. The principal returns (in a good mood) and welcomes my mom back to the school. They allow us in and we get a tour of the principal’s office. Then we walk through the four stories of the school. My mom says the school is exactly what she remembers and her classroom is still the same. The biology classroom is still a biology class and the cafeteria still has a stove that looks to be over 30 years old. My mom shows me where she walked and chatted with friends and learned math. I can’t believe everything I am hearing, walking in the same places my mom did as a child.

After the school we walk to a monastery that next door. My mom said after school they came here to play spin the bottle. We then make way back to the embassy, stopping at the Red Square. I want to cry and do gasp at the same time. It takes my breath away. I have never seen a church so large. St. Basil’s is amazing- out of picture books. We see the building where Lenin’s body lies and I watch the Russian people: women wear tight jeans or fish net stockings with stiletto heels. Men wear jeans with zippers and still cut their hear in the soviet mullet. I take in Russia and feel like the day cannot get any better.

We end the day at my mom’s family’s apartment eating more Russian food: borscht and fish. My mom’s uncle tells me the fish was made especially for me. He went to the store and they didn’t have fresh fish so he returned. They had live fish, so they killed it with the back of the knife. He is proud to tell me he got the freshest fish in Moscow for me. I learn through the night that my grandfather lived in one of Stalin’s Seven sisters (buildings built for government workers by Stalin). He was later banned after his father was taken away, deemed a traitor. The stories of history are amazing. We stay till midnight and return for a good night’s sleep.

First Day in Russia

11:34 PM at 11:34 PM

It started with the dog getting free in the belly of the plane.
After the longest flight of my life (I only was able to sleep about two hours) we finally landed in Moscow, Russia. As we lined up to leave the plane the flight attendant announced: “The owner of the dog traveling with the luggage- please come forward. The dog has gotten out of the crate during the flight and the staff can not catch it.”

My eyes burned from a lack of sleep but I was excited to see what was waiting for me outside the plane. After successfully passing the health check (no temperature), we made our way outside of the airport. Russian flowed all around us. I was happy to see a familiar face, but also was excited to meet my mom’s cousin (Garick) and his son (Grisha). They met us with bouquets of flowers and kisses on the cheek. Garick handed my mom a cell phone to use while in Russia and we made our way to Peter’s apartment. The sprinkling of forests around the city took my breath away. The birch trees taller than anything in the United States. I can’t wait to go into the deep forests later this week. The first drive into the city felt surreal: billboards and traffic mixed with onion top historical buildings and Stalin’s sisters looming over it all. I thought Costa Rica was crazy driving, but Russia is probably the craziest. No speed limits, no seat-belt laws, people zoom in and out of traffic like there are no lanes. Police can pull you over for any reason and this usually requires a pay-off of some sort. I took it all in and felt like I was in a TV show or movie- watching it all but being a part of it.




I was so tired (noon Moscow time, 1am Davis time) but I decided to force myself to stay awake. If I could make it through half a day in Moscow and sleep at the regular time I would be able to fight jet-lag faster.

After settling down into Peter and Dina’s apartment we went to find coffee. Russian filled the street, cute children walked behind their parents, cars zoomed down the streets, and people sold beer, ice-cream or candy from kiosks on the street corners. After a latte and yummy beet salad- the sleep still tried to win me over- we went to visit with my mom’s relatives.

I felt dizzy from the lack of sleep but excited to meet relatives for the first time. We traveled by car (you learn to hold your breath and the corners of your seat, as you slide from side to side) to my mom’s aunt’s apartment. It is located in a quieter part of the city (an old brick building, with tall trees around it.) My mom remembered the floor her aunt and uncle live on. I didn’t have time to get nervous and I blame it on the sleep deprivation, but we made our way inside the modest apartment that my mom used to visit as a child. Photos of my family (siblings and parents) hang in the apartment. My great aunt and uncle met us with more kisses on the cheek and smiles. My great aunt Maya looked at us and kept repeating (in Russian only)- My Tanyachka, my Tanyachka you are here. After analyzing me they tell me I don’t look like my mom, but I am perfect. Along with my great aunt and uncle we are met my Garick and his wife (my mom’s cousins) and their child Grisha. Later Palina joins us with her boyfriend (my mom’s other cousin’s child’s child- quite the family tree) and the apartment filled with more Russian and people. They all instantly felt like family- laughing and joking. They only spoke Russian for the next few hours and I felt like I was in a foggy dream. I smiled and listened to stories here and there. I began to put together the topics of the conversation- understanding limited Russia- and fill my not hungry belly with Russian food they had prepared for us. I was happy to find out Grisha is a vegetarian. We started the meal with a toast. They toasted to me and told me in Russian that they know my mama is here because of my organization. It made me feel so part of the family already. Then we had homemade squash soap with sour cream. It was amazing. Plus homemade bread. Then rice with smoked salmon. They were happy I ate Reeba (fish). Then we had vegetables and a three-course dessert (chocolates, tea, cake, and an amazing baked dessert my great uncle made the day before for our arrival). Peter came with us and told my family he is on his last belt hole, he can’t eat much more. They told him, well we have the tool to make the next hole. Everyone laughed and I understood where I my gets her sense of wit and humor. They were impressed we want to go mushroom hunting and said if we can not find mushrooms they will plant them for us to find. The warmth and humor and connection with these people that share the same blood with me is amazing. Throughout eating for hours I listened to stories of my family’s past.

My great uncle Grisha told me amazing moments from World War II. He told me (through help with Peter’s translations) that he was a solider on the front lines. He was wounded by Germans and they took him out of the army. He was awarded a medal for being a hero and watcher of the city of Moscow. He even shook Stalin’s hand. After being exempt from the army he became an architect and began restoring buildings destroyed by war. This is how he met my great aunt (who was also an architect). They worked on restoring a building together and won another award. He told me this year on December 31st they will celebrate their 60th wedding anniversary. He told me my great aunt lost both her parents at 17 years old to the war. They were taken by officers- leaving my great aunt and my grandfather (who was 5 at the time) as orphans. They moved to Moscow and met up with family. My great aunt brought my grandfather up. When he left to USA in the 70s with my mom and family my great aunt was never the same. She is really sick and my great uncle told me after my dedushka left is when she started to fall ill. Since my dedushka escaped with his kids (my mom) and wife, the KGB sent a letter telling my great aunt and uncle to bring him back. My great aunt said she would sacrifice her life for my dedushka and didn’t tell the KGB officers anything. This resulted in the loss of her job as an architect. My great uncle told me it was ok because they had dogs and camping trips and more adventures. I shared the picture of Jaime with them and we related on the love of dogs. I told my uncle he has amazing stories. He told me- he is a unique individual. Then we hugged and kissed on the cheeks and he said he loves me so much and is so happy to have me in his home.

I left with a full belly, eyes tired with sleep, and emotional happiness. It is an elation that is hard to describe. I feel an incredible amount of luck to be able to experience this and have such an extended and loving family around me. Not many people are able to have this experience in their lifetime and here I am in Moscow, Russia ready to explore the places of my mom’s childhood stories and memories.

Flight Patterns

9:54 AM at 9:54 AM

Every morning I wake up and drink my coffee and check my email. Along with checking my email, I have added a new routine- checking flights. I check international flights to various of locations I probably will never purchase. But there is something so soothing about the routine of watching the prices and trying to figure out some sort of pattern. I've been watching every day for a little over a month. It's like a special project. I might be obsessive in some ways, but there are just some things I enjoy doing. So while I check my email, I try to figure out the flight-market. If you need me to find you a flight, I just might know how to score the best deal.

Here are some observations from the past month....(These are for international flights)

The cheapest months to travel to most places are August and September

The cheapest days of the week to fly on are Monday and Wednesday

The airlines have the best deals/sales 60 days before flying date. After that they go up. It is a myth- I have found in my own research- that they discount tickets at the last minute. You can get discounted vacation packages...but not just a flight.

I'd say I'm off to a good start

9:10 PM at 9:10 PM

Things I have done now that it is summer vacation and I am officially done with school (students' grades sent to registrar, thesis past, final paper turned in, commencement commenced):

+Get sick for the first time in a year

+catch up on sleep

+ Take Jaime back to obedience class and have a successful hour long class where Jaime showed me he can be an outstanding dog

+ Go out to breakfast with my Bunia

+ Read for pleasure

+Apply for a job at Sierra Nevada

+Drink beer

+ Watch trashy TV, such as "Sixteen and Pregnant" on MTV and the Bachelorette

+Go back to work at City Hall

+Walk Jaime and Sam

+Draw

+Check out Russia books from the library to plan a trip

Even though I am going to miss school so much- I was financially stable, had time, made good friends, grew as a person, learned more than I can imagine...I would say I am off to a good start of my new life

Events Manager Position

6:48 PM at 6:48 PM

Applied for a job at Sierra Nevada...probably won't get it. But I had fun writing the cover letter...

This week I am graduating from UC Davis with a Master’s Degree. At this point in my life the most popular question I find myself faced with is, “Now what are your plans?” And I always provide the same answer: “I might not have a specific career in mind, but I know my next step in life will have to include the three most important things to me- story, travel, and beer.”

As a passionate Sierra Nevada customer I went to your website to find out when the new Kellerweis brew is being released and noticed the employment tab at the bottom of the website. As soon as I saw the opening for Events Manager and read the description I knew I found that specific career I was looking for.

As a former creative writing student interested in community renewal and sustainability I understand and look for the story in everything. As a graduate student, I have worked alongside the director for The Art of Regional Change in aiding a struggling rural community to tell their story in an effort to revitalize their small town. I traveled to the community and worked one on one with youth, elders, and government members to record stories that established outreach efforts. I wrote the copy for the website that was launched this past year: www.artofregionalchange.ucdavis.edu. In the end I solely organized and coordinated a University event to bring members from the community to present their digital stories.

In addition to my university administrative experience I have been employed with The City of Davis in the Community Services Department as an office assistant since November 2006. I took some time off while in graduate school but will resume a temporary part time position this summer as an aquatics assistant responsible for purchasing and inventory at the three community pools. As an office assistant for the City I provided members of the community information on recreational and community activities, rented picnic areas, was knowledgeable of ABC laws, aided in training new employees, and displayed knowledge and handling of basic office procedures. In each of my positions and passions I have excelled to the highest level and displayed responsibility, leadership, an eagerness to learn, organization, creativity, guidance, knowledge of office policies and team-work.

Sierra Nevada is a company that embraces community, story and hard working people. I am very devoted to providing guidance to other employees and coordinating events that emphasizes community and beer. I am more than happy and interested to travel and share the story of a devoted company interested in community and sustainability.

I hope that you would be willing to accept my application for the position. I look forward to discussing the position and my qualifications in greater detail. Thank you for your time and consideration.

May Days

8:23 AM at 8:23 AM

Last weekend/week I went to Seattle and Vancouver with Palina and Lisa. The weather was perfect- low to mid seventies and clear skies. It was nice to escape the 100+ central califonia heat. I had so much fun visiting with Atya and Helen. I feel so close to them even though we only see them maybe once a year. Every time we get together you can feel that comfortable Chordas bond. We arrived Friday morning- walked around campus, say Atya's work, went to the University Village and the bookstore. In the evening we had a yummy pasta dinner at Atya's house and drank good polish vodka. We toasted to everyone in the family- if you count the number of people in the family you will realize we had a lot of shots.


The next morning started out rough- everyone had hangovers. We didn't let it damper our plans though. We hung out in Fremont, ate greasy cuban sandwiches and then went to the street faire which was a lot like Whole Earth. There were way more people though. Since the weather was nice. First time they saw sun for the month of May- tons of people were out. Later we took Atya out to a Ethiopian restaurant I found on-line prior to the trip. It was pretty empty and in a seedy part of town but turned out to be delish and probably the best food of the trip. The place was like walking into another country- cement floors, open kitchen door (reminded me of Miss Mirariam's in Costa Rica). Atya said she loved it and now wants to take friends there. After dinner we went back to her apt. and tried many beers from around the world that I purchased from the Bottleworks shop around the corner from her house. Probably my favorite store in seattle. We all agreed that Seattle is such a great city and doesn't quite feel like one since it is broken into smaller neighborhoods and everyone is so easy-going. It doesn't have that city rush and that's why I love it so much.



On Sunday we got up early and drove to Canada. Lisa did all the driving which was alot...but well worth it. It took us about 2 hours to get to the boarder and once we crossed the first thing we were hit with was a cow manure smell for the next 5 miles. We joked about the smell and then were taken aback by the beauty of Vancouver. The city is more like a city- people rushing about, taxis, etc...but it is surrounded by snow-capped mountains all around. We went to Stanely Park and ate fresh fish, drank a pitcher of beer (Canadian beer insnt anything special). Then we went to the aquarium. They had 5 month old baby fur seals that were so cute and other animals we had fun watching. After that we made our way back into the city and found a parking spot in Robson shopping district. We were not sure if we had to pay since it was sunday and saw a parking meter guy emptying out the meters. We asked him and he said yes, but he can do it for us. We were all taken aback and thought we misunderstood. But he asked for a quarter and put it through the meter until it bought us 2 hours. A quarter only bought 3 minutes so he put that single quarter in quite alot. then he even handed it back to us. We were shocked by how nice a city government worker could be. It made us feel positive about human kind. We walked around the city, felt a little under-dressed in jeans and tshirts, and then went to a few bars since Palina could drink in Canada.







On Monday it was Lisa's Birthday. We went out to breakfast and then to Pike Place Market. It was nice going on a monday because it was quiet and not crowded. When Palina and Lisa needed to find a bathroom- we went to the pike brewery. I bought an IPA and fell in love. Probably one of the best IPAs I have ever had. I wish I could have stayed longer and tried more beers but we had a plane to catch and were all disappointed about coming back home to the heat and daily routines of life.

I spent the week grading like crazy. Yesterday my class was observed- well my teaching. The faculty member said he wanted to talk to me in regards to me evaluations from last quarter. I thought oh shit. Then he proceeds to say (In front of all my students and across the classroom) they were the best evaluations he has seen in years. I told him thanks for some odd reason. And he said dont thank me, I have to thank you...you are preparing these students so I have nothing to teach them when they get to high levels! Then he turns to my students and says you are all lucky...you have the best of the best this university has to offer. I felt so happy. Then I ran an amazing class. My students all said smart things, most of them talked, they all were positive. It was an amazing day were I felt positive about teaching again. A day where I thought maybe I can do this....

2 Years of Work Decided in 1 hour

2:34 PM at 2:34 PM

My defense went well. I can't remember most of it. Not due to drinking, but due to nerves. I was so nervous and even though I had a beer it didn't help. My hands were shaking (hidden on my lap under the table the whole time) and my head felt numb. I read my oral statement and then the first 5 pages of a short story. My three committee members asked me questions and I had all the answers. It was funny, because I think the questions I was expecting I answered so quickly and not as thoroughly as planned. But the questions they asked, the harder and unexpected ones, I answered the best. I guess I always work in reverse. They clapped and signed a piece of paper indicating I completed my course work for a Masters Degree. So now I have it. Afterwards I felt so numb, brain dead, and like I was in a foggy dream. Even though it was all done on Monday, today is the first day I feel truly like celebrating and that I am done. The whole week I was exhausted and couldn't even focus on the fact that I just completed everything.

I've never worked harder for anything in my life and it is crazy to think it was all decided in an hour. I had the people I care about most sitting around the board table there with me (parents, siblings, Lisa, college friends, and Katie). Even two month old baby Alexander came. I felt so much support and that's probably why I did so well. I just can't believe it is over. I still teach till first week of June, but I'm done with the thesis/my work part. I am so relieved the stress is gone but sad that I am done with school.

but it sure feels good to hold 162 pages in your hand and really see/feel the weight of the work you have completed.
Now I need to find an agent/publisher.

And I am ready to travel that world....

Tomorrow, I defend.

5:32 PM at 5:32 PM

Tomorrow I defend my two years of work, 162 pages of short stories. I am terrified and have a hard time convincing myself the fear now is really worse than what it will be like tomorrow. Tomorrow I start the defense with an oral statement of my work that will be the topic of discussion. Here is my oral statement....

Before I began to write, I’d dress up my younger siblings in travel attire, pack a suitcase full of clothes, line-up chairs in rows for our imaginary airplane, and we’d travel the world without ever leaving our living room. When I was old enough to leave the house on my own, my mom drove my brother and me to a new and unfamiliar neighborhood in Davis. She gave us a blank piece of paper and a pencil and before driving away she told us to draw a map of all the roads we traveled as we found our way back home. I was ten. It was a moment that would help define the writer I’d become. Even in a town as small as Davis, it could have been scary—but I was excited about my first independent journey. I walked through the streets of Davis and drew pictures of the different roads and houses that made up my map and eventually led me home. Thinking back to my childhood in Davis—a childhood so tied to this one small spot of earth— I realize that I was somehow always traveling. That I went so many places in my imagination. And though the streets of Davis seem much smaller to me now, well over a dozen years later, I’ve never stopped seeking the sense of adventure that filled me that day when I took my first “trip.”
As a writer, I have continued to travel through story, crossing lonely county lines and busy California highways, even venturing at times into other counties; it is as if I need to explore the imaginary geography I have always carried in my head. But the places I've visited aren't always fictional. During my first year in the creative writing program, I worked with the university's Art of Regional Change program on a project that sought to give a rural community in Calaveras County a voice through recorded storytelling. Though I was again working very close to home, stumbling upon so many unexpected stories in such a quiet little corner of the world awakened in me a sense of wonder about the stories I might find elsewhere. Last summer, I received a grant to write and travel, and the opportunity to indulge this growing curiosity. I wondered how much these tiny specks on a map shared with any other part of the world, and I convinced my family to come with me to Cahuita, a tiny village in Costa Rica, reached only by nameless dirt roads. I ate delicious food and hiked through miles of jungle. I also chipped my front tooth and experienced a robbery at gunpoint. Most importantly, I came to know a place and was changed by it. I began to realize that my own stories, my writing, whatever else it might be about, would always be about the places that fascinate me, real or imagined.
As I reflect on my collection of short stories, I see that my characters are grounded to place either as outsiders who find themselves in the heart of new lands or they are insiders, small town locals, who want to step outside of the borders of the world they’ve known. Either way, these roles force my characters to undertake risky journeys. Travel writer James O’Reilly has said that the journey strips away illusions of self; a new place, a new culture, chance encounters with strangers— they so often charge the traveler with wonder and inspiration and the courage to live better (14). I believe this sentiment applies to each of my stories and my collection as a whole. I write about small, rural places that people might not know existed and I populate those spaces with characters in motion, or longing to be. They yearn to travel because they want to escape the counties they live in, the relationships they have, and the heritage that binds them to a culture. Most my characters stay within county lines and never leave the spaces they occupy but even without going far from home, they find themselves traveling because of the counter characters and towns that offer a journey in one way or another.
When I started to piece these stories together for my thesis, I realized that each one was a point on a map and that they came together as the California that I know. I wanted to convey that meaningful travel doesn’t have to be to some exotic place; one can do it without even crossing county lines. I explore places that are rural, small, and sometimes deceptively familiar to the characters who live in or move through them. Each county is filled with different characters from all sorts of backgrounds- farmers, Native Americans, Russians, hippies, religious people. I realized by putting together a diverse group of characters in a small space where they are forced to interact with each other, it becomes a metaphor for traveling to learn from other cultures without the physical aspect of traveling. My characters find that the answer to a lot of their conflicts exists at home, in a place they want to escape or a place that becomes a similar parallel to home. What writing these stories has also taught me is the value of thinking about the places we know, or want to know, in terms of the individual spaces that make them up, no matter how small, and how those spaces fit together to make a whole world or state.
Most the places I chose to write about are rural small farm towns filled with corn fields and the possibility of fire. I see fire, whether it is a literal flame or the fire of a gun or the summer heat, working as a force of nature that is there to wipe out the past of my characters and symbolize the change that can be scary. I feel place can ground people and sometimes the force of fire is the only thing that will push them out of their familiar roles and places. There is an end to fire in my stories as my characters develop based on their growing relationship with their counterpart characters. I chose these places and these diverse people to write about, because I think we don’t know the amount of story in these farming communities and we tend to forget about the corners of the world that sit quietly harvesting corn.
But it is not only places that have been important to me in writing these stories; there are people who have served as my guides on this journey. Lucy Corin challenged me. She gave me deadlines and made me realize I can write ten pages every week. It wasn’t until I was encouraged, even required, to write in such volume, that I had a critical mass of my own work that allowed me to see exactly what threads were running through all of my stories and weave them together into a unified manuscript. In workshop, Lucy made sense of my work through translating them into pictures, images— maps of my stories. I’ve always been a visual learner, so Lucy’s maps made sense to me. My stories took on three-dimensional shapes and I started to visualize the space my characters inhabited and the roads that connected them. Yiyun Li taught me to write about the mysterious and gray characters. She told me that no matter what, I was going to have to let bad things happen to some of the characters I love and that my characters will grow out of the challenges they are faced with. She taught me to continue to let my characters exist miles after the story is finished on the page. David Van Leer introduced me to the timelessness of the classics. He taught me the value of exposing my characters to risk, controversy, and conflict. He pushed me to think about complex characters and relationships and how to write them subtlety and honestly.
I’ve also been influenced by people whom I’ve never met but whose work has always pointed me in the right direction. Anne Lamott taught me how to “make real or imagined events come alive” (7) and that if I look around I will start to see story everywhere and that the trick is to learn to be engrossed by something outside of myself (102). Under the influence of her writing, I began to look outside; instead of writing about myself or characters already familiar to me, I found the stories in the face of an armed robber, in the line at the post office, or in a shed on the side of Highway 20 advertising homemade bat houses. Raymond Carver’s work taught me that there is story in the grimmest corners of the world, places unimaginable to most people, and that those places should be written into story, as well. Sherman Alexie illustrated for me the importance of heritage and culture. Through his stories I was able to reflect on applying my own Russian heritage to my stories and realize how the passing on of culture through generations becomes a way to travel without leaving the house. Jodi Angel taught me to write the hard truth of my characters, because even when things get uncomfortable the reader will be intrigued by that raw honesty. My stories don’t shy away from risk and danger. My characters are put into positions that show how danger and crisis have a way of making us instinctively understand what matters at any given moment, and what doesn’t. It is precisely these moments of danger and crisis that cause my characters to change their lives.
This collection, like the characters who populate it, is still a work in progress, a journey that is on its way to being fully realized. I feel closer to my stories that are written in first person, and feel like I am still negotiating an authentic third-person point of view. I constantly second guess my titles—they are so important as the first sign-posts or markers that the reader encounters along the way. But for the most part, I feel confident about where and how the collection has come together as a whole. I set out on this journey to help my readers learn about the world without even realizing it. I wanted that to happen in the most unlikely places--Hopland, Arcata, Yuba City or Knight's Landing--because I think that's how it really happens in our lives. These are real towns that people might not know existed, even though some are close to home, unique points on the greater map of California. They offer the foreign and the familiar; they are journeys that don't require a plane ticket or any luggage but only the reading of words off the page. I want my stories, these places, to inspire equally fulfilling journeys for my readers; I want to offer them an entire world without travel.