The Proposal

Yesterday, Dec 30th 2007, sliding across Vladivostok's ice-skating rink on one knee, Dan popped the question to Kate. The scene was pure romance! Against the twilight, a light snow fell across the busy ice-skating rink. The temperature was a brisk -10 degrees and all of Vlad was out and about enjoying the festive season.

A magical setting for a magical moment! How could he resist such a momentous opportunity. With all the Olympic style locals flying around the rink anti clock wise, Dan roboticly changed direction and lined Kate up. Building up his courage he began spasmodically skating head on towards Kate with one goal in mind, for her to say YES! As Pluschenko (famous Russian ice-skater) coasted on in, Dan dropped to his knee produced the ring and bowled Kate over before he had a chance to say a word. It could have been a complete disaster, however, with the two of them sprawled out all over the ice and locals flying around at the speed of freight trains, the question was asked and a YES was the result. Congratulations! Pozdravlyau! My little Sis is going to get married.

They're Here!

The Aussies have arrived! Look at what they brought with them.



This photo was taken outside our place, the morning after the arrival. Vlad was hit by a pretty serious blizzard causing chaos throughout the city. Work, functions and general plans for the day were cancelled as commuting became almost impossible.

Interestingly, however, the day before Dan the Brave, believing he was sill in the Sunny Coast stepped from the car to have his first cigarette in Russia, wearing only a t-shirt. You should have seen the looks on the locals faces. The bravado didn't last long though, (1min tops) as -5 reality kicked in.






The conditions lasted a full 24h leaving Vlad transformed into a Winter wonderland.

Ded Moroz and Snegurochka (Father Frost and his Grand Daughter.

Christmas 24th-25th 2007

Christmas Day was like any other day here in Vlad. Russian's don't celebrate
Christmas until the 7th of January. However all of my class were themed appropriately.
For one of my upper intermediate classes we studied Clement Moore's "Twas the Night Before Christmas." Here's my adaptation:

Father Christmas or Father Frost?

Twas Christmas Day throughout the EF village,

not a child was heard rejoicing , no presents to pillage.

The 25th of December 2007,

back home in Oz, it's children's heaven.

However, here in Russia where the conditions seem so right,

we don't see old St Nick until New Years Night.

For it's the 1st of January, when Santa's Russian Brother is in town,

his name - Dyet Moroz, only then can he be found.

No funny looking elves to give the old man a hand,

this guy has a beautiful granddaughter who is famous across Russia's vast land.

And if you thought the old bloke wanted to know who is naughty or nice,

well you'd be mistaken, just read him a poem once or twice.

Nevertheless when all is said and done,

the two of them love children and Christmas fun!

Christmas Day may have been somewhat of a non event, however the few expats around here made the most of it. On Christmas Eve we were lucky enough to be invited around to the American Consulates for dinner. Wow what a feed and what a place. All seven stories of it!
The traditional American Christmas dinner was pretty similar to edifice we ate it in. Enormous!
Christmas Night a group of us headed to Jeff's, where a turkey and all the Christmas trimmings were on offer. A lot of fun was had by all, however it wasn't quite like celebrating at home. The Christmas build up and hype is nowhere near as frenetic here. Maybe because the guys here celebrate it later on the 7th. Don't worry you'll receive a running commentary over the next few weeks.

Banya Bliss

One experience that should be on everyone's must do list. This is no ordinary sauna.The Russian banya is the bigger and stronger brother of the sauna. Defiantly an extremest sport and not for the faint hearted.

Its been a part of Slavic culture for centuries and in ancient writings Herodotus said that "no Hellenic bath from Greece could compare."

Right from my first encounter, the Russian banya cast it's alluring spell over me and started a love affair of unquenchable thirst. I just can't get enough!

The actual banya process is riddled with tradition and involves quite a few steps.

Firstly it must be said that the banya is not just a new age health fad, that many in the west associate with the sauna. This is a social outing, a networking occasion, a place where friends can come together eat, drink and relax. It is well known that many a business deal, (whether legitimate or not doesn't matter), has been accomplished in the confines of the banya.

On entering a banya your first stop is the parilka (steam room), butt naked of course. Here a pechka (oven) heats the rocks on which you throw the water. Now I remember cranking up the temperature to 75 degrees in the sauna at Lennard's Hotel in Brisbane and creating quite the uproar. Well get this, over here anything below 100 degrees is just soft!

The initial procedures are pretty standard. Crank up the temperature, throw water on the rocks (sometimes there is a little bit of eucalyptus or pine scent on them) and then sit for as long as you can tolerate. Then head for the snow, ice covered lake, plunge pool or bucket of icy water and drench yourself. Repeat 4-5 times with regular intervals of sitting around eating and drinking the ever present vodka. Champagne, beer and kvas also complement the experience wonderfully.

Once the body has attained a very crimson tone with unusual white spots, only achieved by going to hell and back, out comes the venik, a bunch of birch branch's used for whipping.One then lies prostrated out on the insanely hot banya benches, where you are beaten for as long as you can stand. You may think this is bizarre, but in fact it is surprisingly pleasant. Russians firmly believe in the many advantages of receiving a good beating with a venik: from enhancing blood circulation and killing bacteria to inhibiting premature ageing of the skin.

The running outside and rolling in snow, followed by a feed and a drink process is repeated over and over again.Last Saturday a group of us hit the banya. They feeling during and after is completely addictive.

I can't wait for the next outing! Check out some of the pics.

Work Christmas Party

Cultural differences aside, one commonality is the festive or silly season. Work Christmas parties whether here in Vlad or back in Bris Vagas, are pretty much the same. A chance to relax, unwind and get completely blotto (very drunk for the rest of the world).
Last night's EF party was no exception. Actually, it reminded me of some of the monstrous gym parties back home. Right now I am feeling very fragile and regretting that last shot of Absent.

The cab ride back home was one pit stop after another. No jogging next to the cab this time, however, after about the 4th stop the cabbie decided enough was enough and dropped us in the middle of nowhere. So there we were -10 degrees, stranded and feeling a "little" worse for wear.
After about an hour the alcohol started to wear off and the cold reality began to bite. It was time to get home before we froze to death. Luckily cabbies over here can posse as any old Joe and finding a willing driver is never a problem. After hailing the next car and a quick negotiation over the fare, we were on our way home for the second time that night.

EF teachers before the party.

Nastya Jeff and I at the party.

New Year Preparations

OK it's getting close now, New Year's Eve that is. The biggest holiday for Russians and for that the public receive 10 days off. Can you imagine 10 consecutive public holidays! The guys here don't celebrate Christmas on the 25th and so New Year's kick starts the holiday season off.
It's just one excuse to party after the next.

• 31st New Year's Eve party (saying goodbye to 2007)
• 1st of Jan party (celebrating the first night of 2008)
• 7th Russian Christmas
• 13th Old New Year's party

We intend celebrating New Year's in a quaint little village two hours outside of Vlad. There is quite a group of us going: Sasha, Marianne, Oleg, Olya, Nas, myself and, of course, the two ring ins all the way from Australia, my sister Kate and Dan. (I cannot wait for the 28th, when I'll pick them up from the airport.) All couples will be lodged in Marianne's parent's cottage, and now that the banya has been competed, we are expecting to do a lot of saunering.

The New Year's Eve preparations are pretty serious. Marianne and Olya have already organised games and entertainment for the evening, and I have been told that I must wear something yellow to seethe New Year in. Something to do with next year being the year of the rat. So today we spent 3 hours shopping for Anastasia's yellow outfit. Fun, Fun, Fun!

Guess what we didn't find anything!

Neighbours

Zzzzzz, Eehhhh chocolate river, ehh chocolate trees, ehh chocolate world, zzzzz!
Bang, bang, bang, -"is that someone at the door, no let me get back to my dream." Chocolate everywhe... Bang, bang, bang-, "damn what the hell is the time?! 1am! What the hell is going on?"
Nastya was off like a shot, I was still a little groggy, still intoxicated with remnants of my dream. It didn't take long before reality kicked in: some was trying to break down our door!
Thieves wanting my irreplaceable i-pod; no thieves wanting our laptop; no I know, thieves wanting my unique Australian bennie. Come on Nico get real. This is no time for jokes.
Someone wanted to either murder us or for some reason desperately needed to talk to us.
Once out of bed I peered through the peep hole in the front door to see two strange looking fellows. The younger of the two was shirtless in -15 degree weather, while the older carried a big stick and sported a beard that ZZ Top would have been proud of. Alright this is one of those points in your life where all that training is going to have to come in handy. Nastya yelled "chto nado?" Now my Russian is improving, however, at that moment my comprehension of what was said was useless. "OK mate it's on, get ready", and at that point off came my Peter Alexander monkey pajama top. I was ready to rumble!
"Voda, voda topit" came the hasty reply from outside. Apparently, the guys outside were our neighbours below on level four and we were flooding them. Quickly checking the bathroom, we found sure enough, that our boiler was leaking profusely causing quite a deluge.
The problem was solved easily enough however, the rants from Mr ZZ continued as we let our neighbours in to observe that there was no longer a problem. Mr ZZ turned out to be an old dedushka who needed a stick to walk. Along with is shirtless grandson the two were harmless enough. So much for the rumble. However, Mr ZZ was one grumpy grandpa as he began to incessantly rant and rave at us. His tirade then woke another neighbour, a nosey babushka. Oh my god what a fuss. We had to push the oldies out of our door as they continued to reprimand and wave their fingers at us disapprovingly. What a night! If only that was it; but no, the dedushka downstairs could be heard going off for the next hour. Finally after a very bazaar 2 hour ordeal peace was restored and dreams of a chocolate universe continued.

Russian Wedding Part 3

Finally after the bride and groom have trekked all around the city, taking photos at every monument, they arrive at the reception. All the guests are waiting in anticipation at the entrance of the reception hall/restaurant, etc.. Here the couple must break off a piece off bread to see who will be the head of the family - the biggest piece being the winner. I our case, Nastya had told me of this Russian tradition so I went for it and ripped off a massive chunk. What she hadn't told me, was that following is process, you were then to salt each others pieces bread, (symbolizing the last time you can rub salt into your partners wounds). Your piece of bread now covered in salt from your partner is then feed back to your beloved. The moral being that if you salt each other during marriage it will come back to bite you. A toast proceeds and champagne flutes are thrown over one's shoulder, smashing on the ground. (It's bad luck if they don't break).
Once in side the first thing to start the reception is, what a surprise, another toast. The first toast is of course for the new couple. One of the witnesses announces the first toast, and then the parents have their say. Witnesses also add some greetings, usually in the form of a poem, and eventually announce the toast itself: "Za molodykh!" ("For the newlywed!") Here we come close to the most popular and prominent Russian wedding tradition. For the first toast people usually drink Champagne, and after the first sip somebody says "Gor'ko!" ("Bitter!"); it means the vine is bitter. All guests together start to shout "Gor'ko! Gor'ko!" To make the vine sweet, the newlywed couple must kiss each other. They must stand up and kiss each other for as long as possible, and all the guests start counting "1, 2, 3, 4, 5..." while they are kissing. If the couple was not kissing long enough, the guests can insist that the vine is still bitter, and request another kiss. This happens after almost every following toast, so the couple has lots of kissing during the wedding. My lips were red raw after about the 10th Gor'ko.
Impromptu toast after toast follow with the occasional poem or joke thrown in. At this point the MC often takes over and the party really starts to fire up. Games of all description are played with the sole purpose of embarrassing everyone in the room. Ksusha's wedding had Anton and his best man dress up as gypsy women and dance around on stage. Our wedding went even further and had many of the guests disrobe with my father-in-law left in nothing but is jocks.
For many of you this sounds quite out of control and you are quite right. Many of you would probably be very relieved when the night finally comes to an end. Well there is no such easy escape, because Russian weddings are two day affairs and the party continues on through the next day!

Wedding Photos

The groom going to the extreme to get his bride.

What one might expect at a Russian wedding - the unexpected!

Russian wedding part 2.

Once the gauntlet has been run and the barrage of questions answered, the groom finally is allowed passage to his bride. Then it's off to ZAGS, the marriage registry office, to make it official. Some couples do have their ceremonies in church, however a trip to ZAGS is obligatory, as the state doesn't recognise the marriage unless the couple have the correct paper work, which can only be obtained at the registry office.
The wedding's motorcade to ZAGS normally includes 6 to 10 or more cars, decorated with flowers, small balls and ribbons. The car with newly weds and their witnesses - the bride's female friend and the fiance's friend - head the procession.
The official part to the day is the quickest. I remember at my own wedding thinking how very efficient the registry office was. Pumping out thousands of weddings a day, I was astonished at how well the ceremony timetable was kept. As one wedding was completed and whisked through the back door, the next scheduled was brought in through the front to the tune of Mendelson's march, just like clock work. Not a minute was spared.
Once the couple have exchanged rings and said their vows the groom physically picks up the bride and carries her to the first of many champagne drink stops. In my case I remember carrying Nastya with great trepidation, not because she was heavy (she's defiantly not) but because the steps leading out of ZAGS were saturated due to the heavy rain. The drink stop was familiar however, just like the Gold Coast Marathon, small tables set out in the open with dozens on plastic cups filled with a refreshing beverage.
After ZAGS the wedding cortege proceeds on visiting many of the different monuments around the city and to lay flowers at the Eternal Fire, this is obligatory. Drinking champagne and taking photos all the way.
Finally it is time for the reception, were the couples family and friends congregate in front of the designated restaurant or resort in order to meet the newly-weds with bread and salt. There is a tradition for the newly weds to break-off a piece of bread simultaneously - and the person, whose piece is bigger, becomes the head of the family.
Stay tuned for the final instalment where the celebrations run completely out of control.

Russian Weddings Part 1

Ksusha - the wedding preparation.

What a whirlwind! 3 weeks ago Ksusha (Nastya's best friend) dropped the bombshell. The announcement was a shock to everyone. She would be relocating to Moscow with her boyfriend Anton, but before that both of them would tie the knot. 3 weeks later, Anton and Ksusha are married and now live in Moscow. I must give it to these Russians, when they want to do something there is absolutely no stopping them. A wedding in 3 weeks, I can just hear you all saying , "impossible". Well in Russia anything is possible.

Russian weddings are epic. 2 day affairs of wild celebrations, pranks, hi jinks and of course copious amounts of drinking. My own wedding involved the father of the bride stripping down to his underwear, the bride being stolen from the ceremony and the groom having to serenade his future wife from the street. Western weddings are more formal and for some reason take a ridiculous amount of time to organise. I remember the absolute uproar Nastya caused when she told the dressmaker that she needed her dress in 8 months time. Over here, a dress in 3 weeks, bez problem. A reception organised in 3 weeks, bez problem. Flowers in three weeks, NO PROBLEM!

It's a grooms paradise! The whole wedding preparation experience that normally takes over a year and sees so many good men knee-capped from tedious decision to tedious argument, can actually be over in less than a month. Swift, painless and effective, just like any good operation.

Weddings in under 6 months, what a concept! Maybe there's a business idea in it.

The differences don't stop with the preparation time. This is just the beginning. Russian weddings are pure theater and full of surprises. Before the ceremony the groom must pick up his bride from her parents. However, this is not as easy as just strolling on over and whisking her away in the car. The groom must show his "worth" before the family excepts him. This "worth" is determined through a serious of tests that inevitably cause great embarrassment and sometimes some serious money changing hands. The groom must fight to claim his bride.

Russians live in apartment blocks, and the higher the bride's apartment, the more effort the groom has to spend. There are posters with jokes and questions regarding family life all over the walls on his way up made by the bride's friends. Each stair-well is a challenge for the groom - he must answer a question to be allowed to progress to the next level. It's a team work - bride's friends ask devious questions (about the bride and the bride's family), and the groom must answer with the help of his friends. For example as in my wedding, he may be shown a few photos of baby girls and asked which one is his bride. If he guesses wrong, he must pay cash to pass this stair-well. (If the building has a lift it will be usually blocked by the bride's team; but if the groom manages to find another way to the bride's apartment than the stairs, it's his right. He can climb up the wall or climb down from the roof - it would be much more fun but grooms are seldom that adventurous.) So it can be quite a tough intellectual task to get to the door of his bride. He can be also asked to sing, to dance or anything else. But eventually he will make it of course.

Waiting for the groom.

The whole process is very long and detailed, with tradition after tradition. I will continue the commentary in my next posting as the groom finally gets to the enterance of the brides house.

Anton and Ksusha

Milk anyone?

"Let's get a lot of milk from each cow."

Love it! I never thought milk could be so motivating. Actually, the other day in my Business English class I asked "what sort of fringe benefits were common in Russian businesses?" Would you believe it, milk was the answer! Apparently in Soviet times, free milk was given to employees in order to keep them healthy. Crazy stuff, I know. While we are on the crazy stuff, I was told today that in the early days of the Revolution a bloke named Artyom from Vlad (now the name of a little town just outside of Vald), left Russia in the 1920s and helped set up Australia's very own Trade Unions. Does this mean that our unions were formed from the Russian model? I'll have to do a little more investigating. Something to think about as all of you head to the polls on the weekend.

Solo

She's off again and Pilmeni is back on the breakfast, lunch and dinner menu. I miss having my little krasavica, doma. It feels strange bacheloring it once again.
Winter has come early and in doing so forcing a major change in the civilian wardrobe. One can not leave the house without shapka (fur hat), perchatki (gloves), thermal undies and of course in my case, an enormous puffy jacket George Castannza would be proud of.
The weekend was too quick. It feels as if I hardly saw Nastya at all. Saturday night we caught up with a few friends at "Syndicate", a very swanky 1920's style bar/restaurant, where a Jive band played an Vlad's more wealthy enjoyed Belgium beer on tap.
Tomorrow, I start work at 9, very early for Russians. I should be interesting as I'm without wheels for the moment and am going to catch the tram and bus. With the forecast being -15 degrees, I should be quite an adventure.

Typing with numb fingers.

Oh my god, we've hit minus double digits! I've been doing quite well. The mornings have been cold at a few bellow and the day time temperature has been reaching a manageable 5-6 degrees. This morning however ,I was caught completely unawares, as the thermometer plummeted into the minus 10-12 range. It was such a shock as the cold penetrated the singlet, shirt, jumper and leather jacket I was wearing. I always thought it strange when Nastya would say:"leather is for Autumn and fur for Winter", well now I completely agree! To make matters worse Vladivostok's notorious winds were in full effect this morning, greeting the locals like a cold hard slap in the face as they stepped from their homes. The wind chill in Vlad is infamous and can turn a -10 degrees day into one witch is more like -30 degrees.
So you can imagine how I would have felt this morning, after the long frost bitten walk to the parking lot, every urge in my body was focused on getting in the car and cranking the heater. Well, no such luck. The car wouldn't start! The engine had frozen and the heater, no matter how much I wanted it, was going to stay off. One hour later the car slowly woke from it's frozen slumber and off to work I went. Better late than never. Tomorrow the whole process begins again, I just hope the mechanics who worked on my car today fixed the problem.

Lactose intolerant BEWARE!

Ok here's the deal, if you are lactose intolerant maybe Russia is not the place for you. Russia is a dairy lovers paradise with a smorgasbord of dairy products. Forget about Skim, Trim, Physical and all those wussie tasteless poor excesses for milk, here only the real thing goes, and boy is it nice to drink THE REAL STUFF once again. In Australia sure, there's milk, yogurt, cheese and cream but what about the rest?! Russia is dairy obsessed. I never knew there were so many different dairy products. Kefir, tvorog, sirniki, varenec, sour milk, butter milk, sirok the list is endless and so to are the dairy aisles at the supermarket.

I've recently acquired a taste for sour milk and with no fat, no sugar and plenty of flavour, this drink is a lifesaver between classes. The other day however, I was in a rush at the supermarket and just grabbed a bottle of what looked like sour milk. After my first class I was famished and popped the top downing it like a man in a Solo commercial. "Hang on this tastes kind of funky", I thought. Looking at the label it read "Kumis". "Is this sour milk?" I asked one of my fellow teachers. "No it's horses milk! " was the answer.

After recovering from the initial shock and image of a horse's udder, I actually started to enjoy it. Now I cycle between sour milk and horse's milk everyday.

Breakfast of champions - dairy all the way!

Bench Comp

Just got back from the Sun life Open Day Bench Comp. It certainly was an interesting experience. This particular comp was not based on your max 1RM, but on how how many reps you can do at a 100kg. It was a lot of fun, as lactic acid kicked in, competitors squealed and jerked the weight off their chests. The energy systems used for this type of comp were on the endurance side, rather than just speed and power. I think such a comp would be quite popular in Australia. Unfortunately for me, due to a lack of regular eating and training , I only managed to do 11 reps at a body weight of 70kg. In comparison the winner weighed in at about 80kg and benched 32 reps. Some of the guys technique as absolutely awesome. Big wide grips and chests that nearly touched the bar. One bloke's range of movement would have been about 5cm in total. The comp itself was huge, with media and a substantial crowd.

My preparation for the comp included a bit of a binge drinking session the night before. I was hoping the calories in the beer and brandy would have propelled me through to a few extra reps. I was wrong! Funny though, there must be something in the tobacco over here, as nearly all lifters were seen from time to time outside dragging on a cigarette.

Bench Press Preparation, Jeff, Ed, Joe and I.

Struggling with 100kg - 11th rep?

32 reps!

31 reps!

Ned Kelly

Woke up this morning and it's snowing. I still find it hard to believe that I am actually living here. The culture, the weather and the people, everything is so immeasurably different. Sometimes I really have to pinch myself and that's not because of my numb body, but because my old life feels so distant.

Life teaching English is fantastic! The collage I work at is very professional, with most of the teachers being Russian. I can't believe how well they understand the language, they would put many Aussies to shame with their language ability. Along with the Russian teachers, there are a couple of native speakers, Georgia from the US, Sand Deep from India and of course myself representing Aus.
Yesterday, however, another Aussie rocked up to EF, (English First Collage), looking for a teaching position. Oh my God what a disaster! Straight away he tried to ask all the Russian teachers if they could set him up and also explained that he didn't like French women because they don't shave their legs. I don't know where this guy got his facts from, probably the back of Burke. Anyway, this fast talking bush ranger quickly soiled his reputation and gave himself absolutely no chance of winning the job. I was just glad that I could put my fellow teachers minds at rest, that not all Aussies are raving sex obsessed, follicly challenged maniacs, just 19 million of us!

Nas is loving her work as well. She's off on a business trip all next week leaving me home alone for 7 days. Luckily there is "Expats Night"! One night of the week where all the fellow castaways meet up at the local watering hole and for 3-4 hours, Russia drifts off into the distance. Last Thursday was my first attendance. It was great to chat with other westerners about the trails and tribulations of Russian life. Next time I'll bring the camera so I can post a few photos for the Blog!

Day Of Unity

In case you didn't know today was a public holiday. Russian Day Of Unity, is a bit of an enigma amongst most of the locals, ( surprise,surprise). No one seemed to be able to explain it's significance, something about peace and goodwill being spread over all ethnic groups. Actually the holiday was kind of just thrown in, in order to replace a former very significant Holiday. The 7th of November was, in USSR times Revolution Day.


Anyway, I appreciated the chance to convalesce and catch-up on some of the more medial tasks that have been long over due, a trip to the car wash, gym, pick-up some stationary for work etc.

Saturday night was a hoot. The two of us were invited around to Jeff and Rarda's for some Mexican and some intercontinental Trivial Pursuit warfare. Each combatant exuded national pride and held a take no prisoners approach. There was Jeff (USA) and Rarda(RUS), who were a rather imposing team. Jeff, an American who through his teaching has seen him work in India, Mexico, Ukraine and now Russia posed quite a threat. Hailing from Minnesota and wearing the obligatory "I Love Hot Mums" t-shirt, there was no way I was going to let this cowboy swagger his way to the gold.

Then, there was possibly the biggest threat in Ed (UK). The Cambridge Graduate has traveled to 31 countries (his words), speaks German, French, Chinese, Russian and of course the Queen's English. Ed hails from Nottingham, the Quintessential Pom who will at any chance, attempt to ear bash you about English superiority and the mighty British Empire. On paper alone, Mr Cambridge was enough to scare any Trivial Pursuit enthusiast back to pure luck games like Monopoly. Then there was of course my wife. Nastya's (RUS) mix of European, pop culture and mathematical knowledge has in the past buried me. From out of nowhere, she has the ability to fly under the radar for a few questions then pounce like rabid she-wolf.

Boy were the odds against the "gym guy " from that inhospitable island,that grabs world attention, once or twice a year, for end of the news stories such as surfing dogs, shark attacks and other oddball Aussie tales.

End result USA - 1st
Australia - 2nd
Russia - 3rd
England - last! (Amazing the benefits of a good education).

Home Alone

Life here is starting to settle into a somewhat familiar routine. Work for both of us is going well and definitely keeps us on our toes. As a matter of fact, Nastya is already scheduled to go on her first business trip. On the 12th of November she will join an auditing team traveling to Khabarovsk, about 14 hours away by train. The trip could be between 1 and 3 weeks long, leaving me in a bit of a quandary as to how am I going to survive while she is away. Well OK, that is a bit of an exaggeration, of course I'll survive, it's just going to be a little strange not having her around. Who is going to cook! I don't think I could go back to my days as a bachelor where the menu solely consisted of chicken, rice and steamed veggies. Yuck! Sure, I know what all you gym junkies are thinking, "Nic is going to get lean once again", well, no thanks! I am quite happy to continue the infatuation with all things oily, sweet and starchy (pelmeni, golubci, blini etc.). Since meeting Nastya, I finally understood the powerful words form one of life's true visionaries, Oliver!

Food, glorious food!

Hot sausage and mustard!

While we're in the mood -- Cold jelly and custard!

Pease pudding and saveloys!What next is the question?

Rich gentlemen have it, boys -

-In-di-gestion!

Indigestion, such a pleasantly painful experience, especially after one of my wife's meals. Boy can she cook!

This weekend is a long one due to "National Unity Day". Tonight were of to dinner at an American blokes house. He is also married to a Russian and has been living in Vlad for the last three years. It should be interesting to hear his story. I've got plenty of questions lined up for him.

Just another average Thursday

After three weeks of what seemed like endless renovations, finally, we are back at our own place. Today I awoke to a mild +3 autumn day. Anastasia was due for her first day at work. So at 8am I trudged off to collect the car, and rendezvoused at the front of our place at 8.30am. Traffic in Vladivostok, as I have commented before, is pretty intense specially at peak hour, when five cars are pushing for two lanes. I cannot believe how resourceful the drivers are here. Footpaths, bush tracks, even cutting across the local school oval are fair game when travelling to work. Lucky I've got a 4wd!
After dropping Anastasia outside the main train station, I headed home to prepared for my classes. Working Russian style is quite different from Australian. Nastya's first day at work involved the staff getting creative as the power went off for 4 hours. Tomorrow should be a little more fun as she was informed to bring champagne and cake to celebrate the new arrival.
As for me, i had three classes this afternoon, and now I am sitting down to a cup of tea and block of dark chocolate. Hey, before you all start pointing the finger, I heard that couple of squares of dark chocolate are good for you, and so a whole block must be even better!

Happy Halloween

Two down one to go! Tonight should be interesting as Nastya and I will attend our final Halloween party. Georgia, (American expat), is holding an authentic American Halloween party and I am very interested to what all the fuss is about. It should be a little different from the previous Russian style celebrations, all though from the sounds of things major intoxication is the common theme. As for me, I am in need of a serious detox, and so have opted for the diver tag. In Russia there is a zero tolerance policy so there is absolutely no chance of those one or two beers turning into 3-10. Nastya is also starting her first day at work tomorrow and she is not too keen about turning up there hung-over. All in all it should be an interestingly sober experience.

The E.F. teachers ready to party Halloween style!

Of to another party the following night.

US and Russian Cultures Mixed.

The wind outside is howling once again. Dark clouds are creeping back over the once blue sky. The signs are ominous for another snow storm, and just in time as Halloween is on it's way. Normally as an Australian, Halloween comes and goes with barely an eyebrow being raised. You might get the odd egg thrown on your roof or the very random car being wrapped in toilet paper, but that's really as far as it goes. Anyway, it doesn't have to be Halloween for those things to happen, for some youngsters that's about as exciting as it gets on a Friday or Saturday night. Here in Vladivostok the popular American holiday has been borrowed, it seems permanently, as the whole city seems to be griped with Halloween fever. Telling the locals that we don't celebrate Halloween in Oz is usually met with some very surprised expressions. Bloody Yankee pop culture, it's everywhere! I tell you, it's often hard to explain that there are other English speaking countries without American culture and traditions.
This weekend sees just about all the night clubs having Halloween themed nights, shop windows are decked out with ghoulish decorations, people are rushing around organizing costumes and there are Halloween parties scheduled all over the place. We're off to one tonight and one tomorrow!
That's tonight, however yesterday was also an interesting experience as I had the privilege of visiting the Russian version of our very efficient Department Of Transport. Are all Departments of Transport tarred with the same brush? I think we all know how pleasant a trip to the local at Greenslopes or Sherwood is. You just about need to have a half day off work! Here in Russia, you may as well take your annual leave, all at once! That is unless you know someone. Yesterday we had to register and pick up the plates for the CRV. What greeted us as we drove into the car park was complete anarchy. A sea of cars parked every which way waiting for checks and whatever else, drivers who could not enter yelling abuse, drivers who were now parked in yelling even more abuse and absolutely no resemblance of order. Luckily for us we had the connections to bypass all the chaos and jump the queue. Now, back home this would be a complete outrage, fists would no doubt have flown. Here not a word was said, just a few evil looks passed our way. Nastya's explanation - "you never know who might be jumping the queue."

"XX" WORK!

Finally, after nearly 2 months of verbal ping pong we have defiant written conformation. Nastya will start work with "XX" (British auditing and consulting firm ) on November the 1st. It has been quite an ordeal. Russian organisation is slow and methodical at the best of times, however, Nastya's application process for the job with "XX" was excruciatingly laborious. After finally being invited to a group interview 3weeks ago, Nastya felt her chances of receiving the job were good. The group interview saw the best 16 applicants being invited to the firm and put through a number of tests and hypothetical scenarios both in Russian and English. Personally, I new she had it in the bag after she told me that a fellow Aussie took the English interview part. Maybe it also had something to do with the few shots we downed with one of the American senior auditors, at the monk's party. Or maybe it's due to the fact that everywhere we go, all other native speakers can't believe there is a Russian with an Aussie accent. I often just get left in the background as the Russian/Aussie is asked to talk and talk and talk.....
For the purposes of privacy and so that Nastya's first day at work is not her last, all names and places are fictitious.

Blackout!

In case you been wondering if I dropped of the face of the earth please read on.

The consequences of what you are about to read were the following:

• no electricity for 24h
• no running water for 3 days
• no Internet connection for 3.5 days
• trip to Russian Banya 5h

The long way home.

It halted Napoleon’s 500 000 man march, it threw a spanner in Hitler’s Blitzkrieg and on Friday night it had me second guessing: “What the hell was I doing in this mad country?”
Friday started mediocre enough. There was a bit of rain about (enough to give Wivanhoe a good top up), and a strong wind blowing. The temperature was 8-10 degrees, normal for a typical autumn day here in Vlad.
The morning had Anatoly, Nastya and I running around town, organizing my registration. As a foreigner you must be registered to a particular household or hotel, just in case the authorities want to have a chat to you. If you leave the country your registration is canceled and, therefore, as I had traveled to China my new registration was long overdue. I am not too sure of the normal foreigner registration process, but I don’t think it involves back door entries into police departments followed by a chat in a dingy little office, where your details are scribbled down manually in a log book.
Once done with all the red tape, off to EF I went, where I was scheduled to take 3 classes. A one on one tutorial was first up, followed by an elementary children’s class and finally finishing with my favorite class, Business English. As I was preparing for Business English Masha (a fellow teacher) suggested I take a look outside. Peering through the window, I couldn't believe my eyes. The whole landscape had changed. It was almost lunar in appearance. Snow had covered everything transforming the once familiar street.
Now, my impressions of snow were that it was supposed to be fun. Light and fluffy, I romanticized all through my last class about stepping out into that winter wonderland.
How wrong I was. The winter wonderland was a full-on blizzard, with minimal visibility and snow that was more like a “Slurpee” you’d pick up at “7 Eleven”. Wading through the knee deep slush I proceeded to look around for my car. The car had disappeared! Where I had previously parked the jeep, now in its place, was a rather large snow mound. “How the hell am I going get into my car?” “Will I even be able to drive through this blizzard?” Many questions raced through my mind at that instant; however, one remains etched in my memory. “Wasn’t it only two weeks ago, that I was lazily tanning myself at the beach?!” Oh yeah, winter had arrived with a bang all right, only 6 months of this blunderland left!

The journey home that frosty Friday was epic to say the least. Normally a 5min trip just up the road, that evening it took me a hellish 35min to get from work to the car park. Even a 5km per hour, I saw my life flash before my eyes more than once. Brisbane has its’ fair share of rough weather. I’ve driven through some pretty bad cyclones, however, this blizzard through me completely off my game. Trees collapsed around me under the weight of snow, mesmerizing cars slid elegantly across the road, my fingers had lost all feeling due to the cold and for some reason I could not clear the fog off my windscreen.
Making it to the 24 hour car park was just the beginning, for ahead was a good 10-15 min trek home in good weather. Could it possibly get any worse? The answer was, you bet, as freezing winds ripped through my clothing. Right from the start I should have followed my intuition and just spent the night in the car, as the wind and snow was like something you’d watch on an Antarctic documentary. I began my normal root home towards the 75 degree hill with understandable trepidation. Looking down at the base of the hill the foot prints had long ago ceased. No one that evening had attempted the climb it. How hard could it be? Was there even another way home? If there was it was certainly going to take me a lot longer. To climb or not to climb was the question?! I had no choice, this was the only way home I knew. Slowly and very carefully I began to ascend. Half way up I thought “yeah this is going well, it’s not too hard, those soft Russiaaaaaaaa!” Legs, arms, and briefcase spun wildly through the air as I ceremonially rolled end over end to the bottom of the hill. Completely saturated, freezing cold and with the blizzard unbelievably intensifying, what on earth was I going to do next? Challengers like this are what real men are made of I thought, as I trekked off into the unknown. It was 10.30pm, not a sole to be seen anywhere. Vlad’s street lighting had long ago been cut and now my whole body was now shivering out of control. As the winds howled around me I stumbled hopelessly through the slush and one thought crossed my mind. Is this the beginning of the end? What about hypothermia? My fingers, toes, ears and face were stinging with cold and I had no idea which way to turn next.
For 10 minutes I shuffled head hunched, fists clenched, jammed deep into my pockets and then emerging out of the gloom I saw a building. “Please let me in,” I cried to myself. “I don’t care who you are just let me in so I can get warm!” It was just my luck again, not a sole to be seen anywhere. Then just as I was about to pass the building the faint glow of a cigarette caught my eye. Rushing over, the young man smoking the cigarette could see the distress written all over my wet face and proceed to punch his security code into the door, letting me into the apartment blocks stairwell. Warmth at last! Man, my fingers hurt! “Znaesh gde dom 84?” I asked the young man. “Ne daleko, vverh po lestnice.” Fantastic it wasn’t too far and I was on the right track.
Finally I bit the bullet and pushed back out into the madness, this time with a better idea of how to get home. 30min later I stumbled in the door much to Nastya’s astonishment. I had made it home!

A hot bath does wonders for frozen fingers and toes!

The morning after!

What a fairy!

I am usually quite, and not good at expressing my thoughts on paper (or on the net in this case) But I cannot be silent any longer. Check out the photo of my husband and his groovy sleepers.

I am looking at this picture, and few questions come to mind:

- Was it a mistake to bring him to Russia?

- If he is wearing sleepers like that after two months of Russian "vacation", what will happen after one year?!

Mummie Trol fans.

No I am not in hibernation, although it is starting to get a little fresh over here. I am sure you can all see by the weather pixel how cold it is, however it does not take into consideration the massive wind-chill factor. Being a port, Vladivostok seems to be battered constantly by some very cool winds. In winter these winds can minus another 15-20 degrees of the minimum. With official minimums as low as -30 I am glad that I've stocked up on the thermal undies.

The reason I've been out of action for the last few days is a direct result from the self inflicted hangover I sustained after the weekend. Saturday night was huge. It started however Innocent enough, Larry (the patriot), San Deep (a fellow teacher from EF and also the son of the Indian Vice Consul) and I headed to a pub/restaurant for a drink. Before long Nastya, Maryanna, Dasha (San Deep's girlfriend and the inebriating instigator Sasha arrived. So you can see we had quite the gathering and no one was in a hurry to go anywhere.

Dasha, San Deep, Larry and I.

Sunday night Oleg, Natasha, Alonya, Nastya and I headed off the see Mummie Trol, a very popular band here in Russia. The lead singer was brought up in Vlad and so tickets were at a premium. Lucky we've got a few connections. Mummie Trol is a cross between Marilyn Manson and the Cure. I couldn't understand one word that was sung and so at first felt very dejected about my Russian progress. However after consulting with the the others, my spirits were lifted, as the rest of the group had no idea about the lyrics as well.

There seems to be a problem with up loading photos so you'll just have to wait for the concert pics.

Park anywhere you want but not at night.

Last night a few of us met up after work (Sun Life) to celebrate the last Wednesday of the week. Out came the vodka, pickles, salami, salads and cigars.
The festivities began in one of the back rooms at the gym and continued on through to the early hours of the morning. It was a great opportunity for me to catch up on some interesting Russian vocabulary. Russian swearing is extremely varied and extensive. English is nowhere near as colourful. I remember that back home there is a subject dedicated to foul language at university. I now understand why. It would take nearly a year to learn all that vocab.


There are so many cultural variances over here, sometimes I just take it for granted and forget that what I am doing, was 2 months ago, a very strange experience. One such variance occurs everyday. In Russia you can park your car anywhere. The position of parking inspector is nonexistent, thankfully. However, at night it is a different story. You can not just park your car out the front of your house and stroll on inside. If you did, the next day there wouldn't be much left of it if anything. Car theft is rampant and no one leaves their cars unattended over night. All vehicles are left at 24 hour security parking lots. The only problem is most of these lots are a 15-20 min walk from your home. So after a long day at work, it is not a matter of just driving home and stepping in the door. No you must drive to the lot first, then trek up sometimes mountains (this is true in my case) all the way home. It doesn't stop there, because in the morning you've also got to pick your car up. So make sure you allow that extra 20mins for the walk. It is going to be interesting how I will cope with these late night, early morning walks when it is -30degrees!

Some Pics

Nastya, the handbag negotiator!

Shopping madness at Suifenhe's bus station.

Mum and Parpie,

You're not the only ones having renovations done. This is our bedroom! We're getting a new balcony put on as well.

The Crossing

What is with the new Aussie passports? I know by putting the computer chip in amongst the pages and having a holographic image of yourself on the front page, your passport is supposed to be more secure, but the hassles associated with these things over here in the non English speaking world are amazing. Every time my passport was checked whilst crossing the border (5 times one way), the same process followed. Every page strictly scrutinised, front and back checked and felt, holographic image stared at then rubbed with fingernail to see is it would peel off, computer chip felt and held up to the light and then the whole process would be repeated. The other tourists would all stare and whisper to each other, "what's that foreign looking guy doing with the fake passport" or "I can't believe this guy holding up the queue, did he bring all the correct documents". At some points I even had the customers officers get on the phone to ask for a superior and then, only after the whole process was repeated did they reluctantly OK me.
Crossing from Russia into China was a strange experience. After passing what looked like a military base complete with dozens of menacing looking tanks, our bus traveled through "no mans' land" until we hit the crossing. Here the first of 5 passport checks occur as a solider boards the bus and begins to eye everyone very suspiciously. Then after traveling a few more meters we wait for about 45min to get clearance to disembark and go through immigration. Russian officials are nearly always grumpy, short tempered and trying their best at being intimidating. The whole story changes once we crossed into China. The Chinese officials did not have the tough guy attitude. There was a very faint smirk on some of there faces, which turned into a smile and followed with many friendly questions once they found out I was from Australia. " Ooh you are from Australia! What are you doing here? What is it like there?" It was a nice change to be considered a novelty rather than eyed with suspicion.

Suifenhe

What a strange little city! Suifenhe is China, however, all street signs are in Russian, the local Chinese all speak Russian and all products can be bought with the Russian Rouble. The city apparently grows by another skyscraper every few months and is a shoppers' paradise. You can buy anything you want there and that is exactly what all the Russian tourists do. Bus loads of them cross the border at all hours of the day and night taking with them just the clothes on their backs, ( you don't want to exceed the 35kg luggage limit when coming back). A usual tour consists of a 2-3 day stop of shopping madness, stocking up on everything from clothes, home entertainment, white goods, car accessories, and etc..., then jamming all the products into massive canvas bags and shoving them back on the bus. I saw basses drive by where only canvas bags, stacked to the roofs, could be seen through the windows, I have no idea where the passengers could have been.

Anastasia and I didn't do half badly ourselves, stocking up on all of our Winter and Autumn supplies. Just in the nic of time, as yesterday, it dropped to a mild 4 degrees. The seasons here contrast greatly and so do the clothes one must wear. You have Winter, Summer and Autumn/Spring clothing.

For most Australians this concept is quite foreign, so to the issue of crossing by land a border. The border crossing itself was rather interesting. In a part of the world where English is a distant after thought, you could imagine the dilemmas that occurred. Stay tuned for the border crossing entry for a full account.

China is Calling Once Again

Off to China tomorrow for the second time, hopefully this time I won't have any problems from guys like this.
Actually the poster is a recruitment advertisement stating "have you signed up as a volunteer."From the look of him , why would you argue.

The Ninja Turtles.

The last two days have been rather relaxing. Just the odd class at English First and not much else. Tonight I am off to the gym to teach a Boxacise class, not normally any problem, but as it is in Russian, some thought must be given to it. The staff at "Sun Life" are an eclectic bunch, leaving me in stitches half the time I am at work. There's Rafael, the gangster walking, "50 Cent" talking, half Russian, half Azerbaijani ladies man. Rafael likes everyone to know that it is only his bottom half that is Azerbaijani. Then there is Leonardo, the ex Russian 100meter sprint champion who is constantly on a high, buzzing here and there, out for a smoke, making a coffee, showing someone how to squat, then back out for a smoke and coffee. The way this guy runs around, it is as if he was just about to take to the track again. Oh yeah, he is also a ladies man and will put everything on hold in order to make a b-line for any attractive girl that walk in the room. There's also Vasili, the 90kg Russian bench champion (PB-300KG), who has not touched a drop of alcohol in 5 years, has a bowl of porridge and glass of kafier every two hours and has just finished his psychology studies.
The girls are as eclectic if not more so. There's Elena the princess, Alina the Bodybuilder, Anya the princess, Alica the weightlifter, Christina the princess, Anya2 the Aerobics champion, Tanya the princess....I think you get my drift.
Finally there is Ura-the boss, with the amazing ability to turn up when least expected and least wanted. Maybe it's because of all those security cameras and microphones set up just about everywhere. How handy would they have been back at Movements and Fitzone.

A Monk's Party!

"A word of advice for all those aspiring monks in the the middle of their monastic studies, DON'T COME TO RUSSIA for it will be the end of you." (Jo, former monk in Vladivostok.)

My first impressions were cynical to say the least. Joseph or Jo, is an American studying at the Russian school I attend and a former monk here in Vladivostok. He invited Anastasia and I to a party on Saturday night and I had no idea what to expect. Jo mentioned that there would be a heap of Russian and English spoken there and so I was intrigued. Intrigued also about Jo's story. Here was a former monk inviting me to what sounded like a good old piss up, while at the same time not hesitating to mention how many good looking girls would be in attendance.

The party was fascinating. A collection of all sorts. American teachers, accountants, students from the UK, French diplomats, and of course a collection of Russians with expat ties. Jo's story was even more fascinating. He fell from the monastery because of Russian women, a curse from the look of things, he didn't seem to mind. The night was typically jubilant and all nations seemed to get along except for the Rugby discussions with the French. I met some interesting people and felt very much out of my league speaking only 2.5 languages.

Jo passed out before we left, I think he enjoyed himself. The night left me wondering, if Russia can do that to a monk, what chance do mere mortals have when visiting.

Jo (seated) surrounded by his guests.

The night's stalwarts, one Aussie (me, taking the photo) and the rest Russians.

We've Got Wheels And A Place To Live

All the signs are here, however, I am yet so see any evidence of it. The news is full of stories about it and nearly everyone has a tale to tell. Russian crime and it's mafia are infamous all over the world. Houses here are locked up like Fort Knox with double steel doors, a myriad of locks and chains, surveillance cameras and hidden microphones. Cars are fitted with extra, highly technical alarms and immobilisers. Corner stores are guarded my heavily armed security.

This week we received our car, a Honda CRV, and along with it the car's security alarm system. I think I've finally worked how the remote works with its' 5 different buttons. The fun doesn't stop there, because once inside the car, one has to find the 3 different hidden buttons, (secret compartments) that are needed to be pushed, in the correct sequence, before being able to start the engine. With so many things to think of, it's no wounder I left the lights on the other night after driving to work. Big mistake as there is no such thing as the RACQ here in Russia. You have to fend for yourself or call your unimpressed Father-in-Law.

This week we also finally got out of Anatoly and Nadia's hair and moved into our own apartment. In an old communist style, it's quite compact but has everything we need including a massage chair!


Breaky this morning, caviar and tea.



Kicking back wondering if that old phone really works!

New beginnings.

I love this old Soviet propaganda art. It's very bold in art work and adjoining statements. This anti alcohol poster states:

"Who is clever and who is stupid! One is with a book, one is in the bar."

Today I was the clever one. Surrounding myself with Russian language books by morning and English language books by night. I have finally officially started work for English First. Tonight I taught 2 classes at an intermediate level. It was great, the students seemed to really enjoy speaking with a native speaker. Actually, I was surprised how much I enjoyed the whole experience.

Today I may have been the clever one with the books, but come the weekend I'll be hitting the pub. Monday, will be nose to the grindstone once again. No sickies for me.

"On a Sickie"

Oh, and by the way, today Nastya and I finally found an apartment. It's close to work, clean and has all the amenities we need, even a spare bed for when Kate and Dan pop over in Dec.

Tail Between Our Legs

Being kicked out of the bus and dropped 5 hours away from Vlad, 1 hour away any sort of village, was unexpected. A complete uproar for most. However, all considering I remained quite calm. This is Russia, so I have come to expect the unexpected. Like any true Russian, I just rolled with the punches and excepted the card I was dealt. I guess a nation that has been dealt so many bad cards in the past,(20million deaths in WW2, 30million in Stalin's purges, Communism, Perestroika, the Oligarchy, the climate, etc..), has learnt to deal with minor set backs as they should, with minor fuss.
So there we were, 5 hours away from Vlad and not a car, bus or any form of transport to be seen. I decided to just plonk myself down and go over some Russian grammar. After about 1/2 an hour a returning Chinese bus picked us up and the long trip home began. A combination of bus, hitching and walking (not necessarily in that order) followed. Arriving back home was pure bliss.

Happy Birthday Lisa

Last night my friend, sister in iron, powerlifting pupil Lisa, celebrated her 40th birthday. Lisa was recently picked to represent Oz in the up coming Commonwealth Powerlifting Titles in New Zealand. This "WONDER WOMAN" can deadlift a small car all at the body weight of just 56kg! Rest up in Italy Lisa, you've got some records to break when you get back!

We're Back!

"Don't be Naughty"

Our trip to China was suddenly cut short today, as Russian border guards told me I couldn't cross into China. Apparently the crossing point was only for Russian and Chinese nationals. All others must cross elsewhere. Being plucked from the bus by grumpy well armed border guards and left in the middle of nowhere was just another interesting Russian experience. Funny the tour company we booked through had no idea that this particular crossing was for Russians and Chinese only! It reminds me of the stuff-up in Moscow when we were sent to the wrong airport.

We will try again to cross into China on the 5th of October, this time at the correct crossing point; this time with a bunch of customs' officials from Moscow. I thought this old Soviet propaganda poster was quite appropriate, as today I felt like the naughty westerner.

Shopping

Tomorrow we're off to China! Suifenhe to be exact. Situated just over the boarder the town is a shopping oasis for Russia's Primorsky Region's residents.
Built solely for the purpose to quench Russian shopaholics, I have been told one can buy what ever your heart desires and at little cost. The only problem is that it can be quite dangerous. Last week a woman from Vlad was murdered. The town is very poor and Chinese Russian relations are not the best. There is some resentment towards the Russians, as it was only recently that Chinese market traders were swept form Russian city streets. I think we should be pretty safe with street wise Anatoly.