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...

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 Café (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.

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....

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.

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.