July 4th-5th:Fireworks and Sapelo Island

Whew! It’s been a long couple of days. I’m exhausted and (unfortunately) coming down with something that’s giving me a wicked awful sore throat. But, I’ll try to post everything for you nonetheless. (I would just like to mention that this is going to be a very photo-intensive post. If for some reason not all of the pictures load - there should be 18 of them - right click on the spot where the photo should be and select “show photo”)

Tuesday morning (the morning of the 4th of July), mom and I went over to my house to work on cleaning and hanging up blinds. We discovered that there had been some vandalism done to the front windows of my living room. It was either simply malicious vandalism or someone trying very ineffectively to cut through the glass in order to unlock the window. We’re not sure how long that’s been there, since we’ve had the curtains in the living room closed for a while, and only noticed when we opened them to begin hanging the blinds (although mom says these scratches were not there when she hung the curtains). I’m starting to think seriously about burglar bars, although my mom seems opposed to the idea. Thoughts?

The damage to my front window.
The scratches aren't deep, just unsightly and unsettling.

Mom, hanging blinds

After spending the morning at my house and returning home for a short nap, we drove down to Frank’s house in Live Oak, FL to celebrate the 4th of July. Mom and Frank rode around on his new motorcycle (a Yamaha 650) while I explored the nearby sinkhole (something I pretty much do every time I visit Frank). After dinner, it was time for fireworks. Frank had invested something like $300 in fireworks, and his display was quite incredible.


Mom, decked out in 4th of July gear and new motorcycle helmet

Frank and Mom on the Yamaha 650

Frank, shooting fireworks off his porch.

After the fireworks display ended, mom and I drove back to Waycross. Why not just stay the night? Because we had somewhere in GA to be bright and early Wednesday morning. I collapsed into bed around 1:30am, only to get up at 5:00am (mom had it worse, going to bed at 2:00am and getting up at 4:00!) We left Waycross around 6:00 and drove east for about an hour and a half until we reached the coast. We had reservations to take the GA Department of Natural Resources tour of state owned Sapelo Island, and we had to be at the ferry dock by 8:00am. The day was absolutely gorgeous, and I took a lot of pictures of the sky, reflecting perfectly in the water.

On the way to the island, dolphins swam along side the ferry, leaping and playing in its waves. This isn’t the best picture of a dolphin by any means, although considering that usually when I try to take dolphin pics, I usually end up with a shot of the water where a dolphin used to be, I’m pretty proud of it. I actually took this one while standing in the bow of the ferry and looking down – he was swimming and leaping almost directly in front of the boat!

The island itself was very peaceful and beautiful. Back in the day it was home to a slave plantation, which grew cotton and sugar cane. It was owned by a couple different wealthy families before being sold R.J. Reynolds of cigarette infamy, who used it as his vacation retreat until selling it to the state of Georgia. (I learned that RJR died of emphysema. Hah!) While most of the island belongs to the state, there are parts of it which belong to the descendents of the slaves from the plantation. Nearly everyone who lives on the island is a descendent of its original slaves. Sapelo reminded me a lot of the setting for the book Mama Day, which is one of my favorites. Now I want to read God, Dr. Buzzard, and the Bolito Man.

Isn't it beautiful?

We drove around the island, and then toured the RJR mansion (if you have a group of 16 people willing to shell out $160/night you can rent the place out) and the historic lighthouse. Sadly, we didn’t have time to go to the beach.

The RJR mansion reminded me of an older, classier Graceland.
Too bad the reflecting pool was empty.
The place was surrounded by gorgrous live oaks...
although they made it difficult to get a decent picture.

The solarium was incredible.
What is now that brown floor used to be a swimming pool.
Can you even imagine?

The Sapelo Lighthouse

We caught the noon ferry back to the mainland and drove to the nearby town of Darien for lunch. Darien is a tiny little place (population roughly 1700) and didn’t have much in the way of restaurant choices. We stopped at a country restaurant called Granny Lee’s – delicious down-home Southern cooking. Afterwards, we began to head for Waycross. We stopped at several places along the Altamaha Waterfowl Management Area and saw (among other things) a mother and baby osprey!

Look at the little baby!

The mother tried to frighten me off. It worked.

Okay, I’m off to shower, gargle and rest... hopefully I'll feel better in the morning.

I have my suitcase!!

Yes ladies and gentlemen, my suitcase has arrived, hand delivered this afternoon! I must say that even though it was a tad inconvenient to have the bag delayed, its quick delivery was quite impressive – and a definite contrast to my lost suitcase experiences with Aeroflot (here and here). Hooray for Air France! Did I mention how yummy their airline food was? Anyway...

Nothing overly exciting in Jane news from Waycross other than the arrival of my suitcase. Mom and I spent several hours today working on my house. We went over there early this morning and unloaded the van-full of stuff that we snagged from Frank’s yesterday. We returned this afternoon and I worked on organizing the various boxes of my junk and mom worked on the living room - sweeping, mopping, arranging rugs and furniture, etc. Even though there’s very little furniture in the living room, it looks great. And, as it has the rug which was on the floor of my former home in FL for many, many years it feels like home already.

(We're going to have the curtains shortened, don't worry!)

We got that shelving unit from Kathy yesterday.
It's supposed to hold a TV...
but even my tiny TV only fits on the top shelf!

A long, hot, sweaty day

This morning mom and I got up at the crack of dawn in order to set out on a journey to North Florida before it got too hot. See, we were making the trip in her scary old 1984 ChevyVan, which (in addition to having a cracked windshield, windshield wipers that always work – except when it rains, and a rat and ant infestation) has no air conditioning. As it got up to nearly 100F today, I’m glad we left when we did, although it didn’t save us from sweltering in that van for several hours. Our first destination was Lake City, FL, approximately two hours to the south of Waycross. Lake City is quite possibly my least favorite place on the planet, although I swear it has the gravitational pull of a black hole. Even though I have few friends and no relatives (well, except the crazy estranged one we don’t talk to) living there, it seems that every time I’m back in the States I end up making a trek there. It’s like some sort of unholy pilgrimage. Anyway, mom and I trekked to LC today because her good friend Kathy was having a yardsale, and she promised to give us good deals on whatever we wanted, and to give us a nice, fancy shelving unit for free. Now, as my house is still essentially unfurnished, that seemed like a good plan. It would have been a better plan had it involved air conditioning, but what can you do?


Mom and her van

A close-up of my mom

We stopped at the Suwannee River in Fargo, GA

We arrived in LC after two hours on the road, and we were just starting to get sticky. As soon as Kathy saw us she jumped up and said to us, “Boy do I have a yardsale horror story to tell you!” It turned out that the mother and oldest sister of a good friend of mine (who shall remain unnamed, although I’m assuming this person will recognize her relatives as she reads this story) went to Kathy’s yardsale early that morning, bought a lot of stuff, and then drove off without paying for any of it. Kathy was quite upset. I gave her the name of the two women involved in the yardsale heist, as well as their phone number. I’m sure they were surprised when they received the phone call! But what should they expect? It’s LC after all; everybody’s all up in each others business. She spoke with the sister who denied everything, but who claimed she’d call back after her mother (who was conveniently “napping”) awoke. I wonder if Kathy will ever get her money? True, it wasn’t much, but it’s the principle. Especially since Kathy has allowed my friend and me to have joint yardsales at her house in the past!

After leaving Kathy’s we drove to a restaurant called Phish Heads Bar and Grill. I was pretty dubious about the place because A) it’s called Phish Heads; B) it’s in LC; and C) it’s located in a run-down old strip mall. But to all you people still living in the LC Pit, it was actually pretty tasty. And the small spinach salad for $2.99 is actually quite large and very delicious! Anyhow, the place opens at noon on Saturdays, and we arrived at 11:50am. We decided to wait, and soon we were joined by several other people. My mom recognized one of the women and said, “Oh hi Delores!” The woman gave her a really confused look and asked who my mom was. Mom clarified: “I’m Sandy Keeler. We used to sit in the pew in front of you at St. James Episcopal Church.” The woman shook her head and said no, although she confirmed that her name was indeed Delores. They spent a few minutes trying to figure out where else my mom might know her from and then my mom asked if she was Delores Porter. Turns out she’s a Delores SomethingElse, although according to my mom she’s a dead ringer for Delores from St. James. Bizarre.

After lunch we drove from LC to Live Oak (about an hour to the west) to visit Frank and to get the remainder of our stuff out of his storage shed. (When my mom moved from FL to GA last year, she moved into a smaller house. She put the stuff she didn’t have room for into Frank’s storage shed. Well, soon it’ll be stored at my house. While this does mean I get a nice bookshelf and two nice end tables, it also means that I get to store a lot of crap I don’t really need. Ahh well.) We loaded our stuff into the van in the sweltering heat (this was probably while the temperature was at its peak), and I photographed some passionflowers growing in Frank’s field. Then, after some coffee smoothies, we drove back up to Waycross (another two un-air conditioned hours). Along the way we took a couple of dirt road “shortcuts” through some desolate pinewoods.


Passionflower

Passionflower

The long dusty road as seen through the cracked windshield.

Upon returning home and not discovering a suitcase waiting on the doorstep for me (no worries, we gave them my mom’s address, not mine!) I called Air France. Supposedly my suitcase arrived in Atlanta around 1:30pm today, and it should be in my possession sometime tomorrow. We shall see.

From Russia to America

[This post is cross-posted with From Russia With Blog]

My last full day in Russia was, in many ways, a normal day. I went to the AH, spent some quality time on the internet, and hung out with Brooke, Youngmee, Kelli, Misha, Layla and Asya. We ate leftovers from the previous day’s party and (for the most part) just sat around listening to music, talking and enjoying each others company. At the end of the day (after Kelli and Layla had gone home) the rest of us took one final walk together down Bolshaya Moscovskaya to Pushkin Park, around the cathedrals and then back to the AH, at which point it was time to say goodbye. The others were going off in a different direction from me, so I waved them goodbye from the sidewalk as their marshrutka drove away. While I know that I *will* see these people again, it is so unfathomably strange to think about not seeing them on a daily basis and no knowing when I will actually see them again in the flesh.


Misha, me, Youngmee, Brooke

Brooke, Youngmee, Misha, me

My last evening at home with Nina Mikhailovna was no different than normal – other than the fact that all of my possessions were packed into two giant suitcases and one large carry-on. And I set my alarm for 3:00am instead of my usual 10:00am. Luckily for me, Nina M. set her alarm as well, as I managed to turn mine off in my sleep without waking up. I was awakened at 4:00am by Nina M. The AH had arranged for my ride to the airport to pick me up at 4:30am. I was already feeling stressed about my lack of time to make my final preparations when my ride arrived at 4:10! Ahh well – I made it out of there alright, and I don’t *think* I forgot anything. Kelli rode with me to the airport, as her sister was flying into Sheremetyevo about an hour after I took off. Unlike my last trip to the airport (which took something like six hours and had me checking in while my plane was boarding...) this trip was uneventful and we made it to the airport in record time. Of course, this meant that I got to stand around for two and a half hours before they let me check in, but better early than late!

I flew from Moscow to Paris on an Air France flight operated by Aeroflot. I was a little leery of traveling with them again after the last time, but what could I do? It turned out that the plane from Moscow to Paris was a much nicer plane than the one I flew in from Poland to Moscow back in August. Definitely newer, cleaner and classier. The French influence, perhaps? Anyhow, I’d heard some horror stories about transfers in the Charles du Galle airport in Paris, and I was glad that I had a three hour layover. While I do admit that the airport was confusing to navigate (I’m sure it’s impossible to do so quickly, although supposedly they’re installing a new transit-train which should improve things) I actually enjoyed my time in the airport. All of the staff were incredibly friendly. It wasn’t just that I’d come from eleven months in surly Russia. These people were far more outgoing, friendly and helpful than pretty much anyone I’ve ever encountered in a service industry. And it didn’t hurt that a lot of these friendly and outgoing people were also hot, flirty French fellows with sexy French accents.

By the time I got on the plane I was feeling pretty exhausted, and as soon as we boarded I passed out. As such, I didn’t realize until we were approaching Atlanta that we had taken off from Paris an hour late (which is kind of odd, considering that we boarded on time). Every one around me seemed to be feeling frantic, worrying about whether or not they’d be able to make their connecting flights in Atlanta. Meanwhile, I felt calm and relaxed, and took a bunch of pictures of clouds. (I would just like to mention that the food on Air France was DELICIOUS. I usually tolerate airplane food just fine, but I’ve never in my life considered any of it to be delicious. Well, this stuff certainly was a tasty treat – two incredibly yummy meals.)


This was my view.
The splotchy discolorations are from ice crystals on the window.

Again, my view.

When the plane landed in Atlanta, before they let us off, there was an announcement. “Passenger Jane Keeler, please see a Delta Ground Staff representative for a message.” Great. (Delta is partners with Air France, BTW) As soon as I stepped off the plane, there was a man waiting at the gate with a sign bearing my name and my message: “Your mother is going to be late. Please wait for her.” Um, okay. Where would I go, anyway? I went through passport control and then to baggage claim. My big ass green suitcase arrived promptly... and then I stood and waited and waited and waited for my black one. You know, the one that didn’t make it to Moscow on my way *to* Russia. Just as I was getting ready to go look for someone for some assistance, there was another announcement. “Jane Keeler, please see a Delta Ground Staff representative for a message.” Of course, my thought was yes, yes, I know; my mother is going to be late. But it turned out that this message was, “You black suitcase is still in Paris.” WTF?! I had a three hour layover! How did the bag not make it on the plane? But, they told me exactly where to go and what to do in order to get the bag tracked down and shipped to me. (Yes, unlike LOT Polish / Aeroflot, Air France / Delta delivers.) Anyway, I emerged from the pit of the airport and found my mother, who had arrived before me anyway due to the delay of my flight. Then we stood in an interminably long line at the lost luggage counter so I could file my claim. Supposedly my suitcase will be delivered tomorrow. I hope!

At that point it was after 9:30pm Atlanta time (5:00am Vladimir time!) and both my mom and I were feeling pretty wiped out, although we began our trek down to Waycross nonetheless. We drove for about an hour and a half, and stopped to eat at the one thing in south Georgia that’s open at 11:00pm: Waffle House! Our first attempt to eat at a Waffle House was thwarted by the fact that the first one we stopped at was closed. WTF? Waffle Houses never close! But apparently something was being done to the floor, and it was closed for the next two hours. But never fear, there was a Waffle House at the next exit. Thus, my first meal upon returning to the States was an incredibly greasy grilled cheese sandwich and a bowl of grits with cheese. No wonder so many Americans are obese. Even though it was pretty late, the restaurant was packed, probably due to the fact that the other one was closed. As a result we were in there for an hour. So, two cups of coffee and way too much grease later, we got back on the road and drove for something like three more hours; it was shortly after 3:00am when we pulled into my mom’s driveway. I dragged myself inside and promptly collapsed into bed. That’s 31 hours after I was awakened in Vladimir by Nina Mikhailovna, folks.

I expected to sleep for something like 15 straight hours, but annoyingly my body still thinks it’s on Vladimir time, and I ended up getting up around 7:00am. My mom and I got dressed and set out to my new house, so I could see it in real life for the first time. Mom seemed really worried that I wasn’t going to like my house or that I would be disappointed with it or something, but I love it! Granted, Terry (our contractor) is still there doing work on it, and afterwards there’s still going to be a lot that needs to be done (cleaning the kitchen and bathroom, painting over all that horrible wood paneling, and refinishing the living/dining room floor) but the house is really wonderful. Not to mention that I have a green couch (more olive than lime, but still awesome) and the world’s largest kitchen. I simply cannot fathom why someone would build a kitchen that’s that enormous. Not that I’m complaining or anything; it’s just strange. I’ve got a dining table and chairs set up in the corner of the kitchen and they hardly make a dent in the space. I’m going to use the “dining” room as my office. The neighborhood definitely isn’t the best, and I hope the fact that I’m the only white person for miles doesn’t cause me any problems, but I love it.


My house :-)
That's Terry the Contractor's truck out front.
I'll get a decent pic of the place someday when it's not parked there.

There are Js on the shutters.
Unfortunately, because of where my head is,
it kind of looks like a T in this shot.

Apparently, I live on the corner of Ass and Ass.
Luckily, I find this highly amusing.

I was standing in my kitchen door when i took this.
Thes space in the foreground is supposed to be the dining room,
but it's going to be my office. The living room is in the rear.
Be sure to note the green couch!!

Reverse shot: from the front door in the living room,
facing the office and the door to the kitchen.

My bedroom, complete with $20 bed. Yard sales rock.

Isn't this kitchen ridiculously big?
You can't even see all of it in this picture!

Hell, just this part alone would be a big kitchen.

After seeing the house, we went out and purchased some things for it: two fans (for the living/office rooms), a mattress cover, and cleaning supplies. Then I returned to my mom’s house and took a very lengthy nap.

My last post from Russia

[This post is cross-posted with From Russia With Blog]

Wow. This is really hard to comprehend. It's not really sinking in that tomorrow I'll be in Waycross, GA. Weird. This won't be my final post on From Russia With Blog, although it will be my final post from Russia, at least for the forseeable future. I will continue to blog over here at Jane's Daily Blah, and I hope that those of you who have followed my adventures across Russia will continue to follow me through the Georgia swamplands and across the Pacific to the Land of the Morning Calm (that being South Korea). I figured it up, and between the fact that I'll be leaving Vladimir tomorrow at 4:30 in the morning and the fact that it takes about four hours to get from Atlanta to Waycross, I'm going to be traveling for approximately 26 hours or so. That means I'm going to be essentially unconscious for several days upon my arrival. I will blog as soon as I can, although I can't promise exactly *when* that's going to be. In the meanwhile, here are some pictures from yesterday's final party with all of the AH teachers and staff.

The party was held in the backyard under red, white and blue umbrellas.
(Keep in mind, these are the colors of the Russian flag, too.
The US doesn't have a monopoly on the red, white and blue.)


There were lots of toasts.


Galya gives a speech while Vanya and Tatiana laugh.


No, there's nothing wrong with your monitor...
the salad really was this color.


It was delicious though. I'm going to miss Russian salads.


Glen, Jane and Misha
We always sat together at AH parties.


Brooke, Alyona and Britt


Misha the Dog

(I realized that while I have *tons* of Gosha the Cat pics, I had no shots of Misha the Dog. Misha's a stray to whom the AH feeds generous portions of scraps on a daily basis. He did quite well at yesterday's party, as he got the bulk of the leftovers.)

Britt and Alyona brought their young son, Alex.
While we had all seen photos of Alex,
this was the first time we saw him in the flesh :-)

A Great American Home Tradition

[This post is cross-posted with From Russia With Blog]

Today was hot. Now, I know there are a lot of uninformed people out there who think that all of Russia is covered by many feet of snow all year round... In case you're one of them, let me just go ahead and kill off that myth. Granted, only a few short months ago the streets were covered in mountains of snow, and the temperature dropped to -40. But it's June folks, almost July... and today it was in the 90s. None of us really had any plans (except for Brooke, who is off on an adventure with her host mom this weekend), so as per usual we all gravitated towards the American Home. And, as the AH is one of the few airconditioned places in the city, we stayed here for the remainder of the day. Around 4:00 the sky suddenly grew dark and the wind began to blow... We scurried to Grossmart for provisions and raced back to the AH. Of course once we returned, we realized that we should have gotten the goods to make garlic bread. Misha and Youngmee raced off to the store, but almost as soon as they left a whopping thunderstorm (of the sort frequently seen in the southeastern US) whipped up and poured out. Kelli, Asya and I were glad to have stayed inside the AH. Misha and Youngmee got drenched, but it was worth it as we roasted a baguette stuffed with butter and garlic to accompany the fresh veggies we stir-fried up to top off some pasta. Yes the Great American Home Tradition is that of eating well.

Misha did most of the cooking


Doesn't it look scrumptious?


Before popping it into the oven,
Kelli stuffed the cracks with butter and pressed garlic.


Gosha the carnivore had his own feast.

Randomness

[This post is cross posted with From Russia With Blog]

Last night after administering final exams (always somewhat frustrating, given the blatant and rampant cheating attempts of our students) we went to one of the many beer tents that have sprung up across the city with the arrival of summer, where we consumed yummy shashlik and even yummier beer. I'm going to miss the land of the beer tent.

Youngmee, Layla, me, Asya


Misha, Glen, Brooke, Vova

I would just like to mention that this new haircut of mine rocks. See, my hair is notoriously uncooperative. After most nice (or not so nice...) haircuts, the hairdresser fixes my hair and it looks great, but then when I try and fix it myself, it takes a lot of effort not to look like ass. I must say that this is the first short haircut I've had that requires almost no work whatsoever. I get up and I brush it and it does what it's supposed to do. I'm quite impressed. (For anyone who might be interested in such a magical haircut, it was done by Sveta who works at the Vasilisa hair salon on Bolshaya Moscovskaya, Vladimir)

For those of you who enjoy reading mysteries and/or for those of you who are interested in Tibet, I have a book recommendation for you. As you may or may not know, I've been slowly working my way through the rather large collection of paperback mysteries in the AH library. There's one that's been sitting there for a while that I'd been ignoring due to its horribly cheezy title. I finally picked it up the other day and read the back of the book and decided to give it a try. The book is The Skull Mantra by Eliot Pattison. It's too bad that it has such a cheezy name (although after reading it, I discovered that there's a legitimate reason for this absurd title) because the book is fabulous. Not only is it a well written and engaging mystery, but it gives a clear and fascinating look into life in Tibet, life in the Tibetan prison systems, and Tibetan Buddhism. Now granted, I know remarkably little about Tibet or Tibetan Buddhism, so I have no way of knowing whether or not Pattison's depictions are accurate; however, while reading it I felt such a strong sense of place - so beautiful and magical - that I now find myself wanting to learn more about both Tibet and Tibetan Buddhism. The description on the back of the book says that it "will change the way you think about Tibet - and freedom - forever." I read that and thought what a crock of shit... but whaddyaknow. You should all definitely check it out.

And the last bit of randomness that I have for you today comes in the form of an email from my mom: I have bought you a lime-green (sort of) 1950ish couch. Sorry, but it's not fuzzy -- it's vinyl. YES!!!!!!! And I'll get to sit on it in five days :-)