I've known this for a while, but I pretend it's not true. Wearing a costume stresses me out. I miss myself. I worry that I might not come back. I want to yell, I'm here! I'm still here! Under all of this! I haven't changed! Don't leave me!

Maybe my imagination is getting the best of me.

So, I'm fairly sure that the name I've been using here, Лёва (Lyova), translates to something like "Timmy." The problem is that most Russians can't say "Leo," and "Лев" (Lyev), the direct translation, comes across as very formal and pretentious.  I think that's mostly Tolstoi's legacy. Without Tolstoi, "лев" just means "lion," which would be fitting.

So they call me Лёва, and then they giggle.

For Halloween, I will be a bee!

yellow sweater
black electrical tape
black tights
black loafers
black gloves

bzzzzz

A university here really needs a new English teacher since my colleague and countryman fled the Siberian winter, and it's up to me to find one. A Catch-22: I haven't had time to search since I'm teaching extra classes now.

But enough griping. So I finally posted on a Slavic listserve about twelve hours ago, and now I have twenty five applicants. All qualified, all chomping at the bit.

It's a really strange situation. First of all, I've never reviewed anyone's resume before. Most of these people won't get the job, but maybe I could become their friend? Probably not what they're gaming for.

Most of them call me Mr. Brown. I told them to stop.

I think what I'll say is, if you really want to move to Siberia and teach English, send a resume to every university in this fair country. As far as I can tell, most have never dreamed that Americans would want to teach here. Talk about a communication gap. If I weren't swamped and knew how, I would set up a database.

Yo Hazelnut.

Yo Hazelnut! You!

You and me? We're through.

You hear me? Finished.

You're not worth my time or my money. What've you ever done for me, anyway.

Why should I pay for you when Almond and Cashew over there do the job just fine. You hear me?

You taste like wood.

Don't get down on yourself, there's nothing you could have done about it. I just don't wanna deal with it anymore.

Maybe I just need a break, I dunno.

And, I'm swamped. I think not for long. I'm determined not to remain so. I guess this swamp is a good sign - I'm still not fully settled in, and really, I think I should be able to last the year without ever being completely settled in. Point is, things are in flux, and I'm too busy at the moment, but I think next week will be better. And at least I'm busy.

One of my students invited me to join her tango group yesterday. They meet twice a week. I'd love to join, actually, but now is not the time. Oh, and she things I walk and move with grace, so she was shocked to realize that I am not a dancer by trade.

You catch that last bit?

Some signs of progress:

-I am now "registered" to borrow books from the library

-I can receive mail (my address is on the left sidebar)

-Moscow Times seems happy to interact with me and consider my stories

-I have a travel mug, a desk mug, and a water-boiler

-I am pleasantly busy

Things that still need sorting out:

-VKontakte (Russian facebook) is still giving me trouble

-I have not yet figured out a way to clean my nice shirts without using the rust-water from my faucet

-my fridge still smells funky after a thorough search and cleaning

-my sheets are not long enough (this one might be a lost cause)

-my pronunciation of the Russian R is in a volatile process of development

During English Club today, which I had bargained hard down to every other week, pulled out all the stops, I spontaneously and uncontrollably suggested that it would better and probably easier to just meet every week.

What, I'm becoming a person again?

Not sure how I feel about this.

Tonight, I'll feast upon Georgian food with the librarian. Food coma will surely help me to sort through things.

My friend,

You have stolen my knife. I left it in the kitchen, and now it is yours.

The maid did not steal my knife. You stole my knife. I paid three dollars for my knife. It was a dull knife.

You have stolen my dull knife.

Today, a new knife. It is powerful. I cut fish, vegetables, and cheese. It is long and dangerous. It glistens.

May your life with my dull knife be full and lucky.

And at last, my right arm is complete again.

Regards,

Лёва

Are people punished for living in New Hampshire?

Today, we learned about New England, but New Hampshire took the cake. They tried to sort through what I had said, to align it with their preexisting views of America.

Is it dangerous there?

I think I sorted things out in the end, managed to hash out the difference between truck-driving libertarian and Chechen rebel. Furrowed brows and dubious nods.

Live free or die.

Moscow corrected another of my misconceptions last night. I do not have friends in Russia. I have pals. Soon, perhaps, my pals will become friends. But now, they are pals. And this, Moscow explained, is why I miss home: because my pals have not yet become friends.

Moscow now knows that I am in Novosibirsk, and she has a solution. Move to Moscow! Things are better here. There can be no doubt.

Though there can be no doubt, one young journalist explained to me that Novosibirsk is, in fact, crucial to Russia's future as an innovator and leader in science and technology. I knew that my home base was an important hub of Soviet science, but she says it remains a vibrant contributor today. It's hard to tell, really, from the outside of all the institutes - geological, technical, brothers, cousins - whether they are more than a facade. But I think I will do a bit of research.

I prefer to know what is going on. I have to remind myself of this constantly. Check.

Heading back to the airport in a few minutes, and I will hop on a plane heading east.

I understood a full conversation between Russians! It was in a little groceries kiosk, and went as follows:

Vodka.
No.
Give me vodka.
No, it's after eleven, you can't have it.
Vodka.
Go away!
Give it to me.
Goodbye.
What's your problem?
Goodbye!

And I managed to crack her smile with a big, cheerful HELLO!

A strange, unprecedented silence fell upon the class as I explained the basics of Luther's 95 Theses.

We had just been chatting about this and that when I realized that only one student had any clue about the Protestant Reformation. So I started talking about the basics. Religious freedom, the printing press, pilgrims, this and that.

They were mesmerized! I have never seen such a quiet and attentive group of Russian students! I guess maybe they don't bother to teach this stuff, maybe because mother Rus' checked out of Western Christianity back in 1054?

What makes an excellent Sunday?

A new recipe helps. I was shocking some quick eggs while a young mom used the next burner over. Carrots, tomatoes, celery, garlic, onions, sliced thin, all sizzling in a pan, a glug of oil. Meatballs were on the ready, soon to be rolled into her hot soup!

Glug is how vegetable oil comes out, yes? I think so.

This gave me some ideas, and I added carrots to my shopping list, which was part of my day plan. I got some nice fat ones, thick ones from Altai, the mountainous region to the south. My carrots are caked in Altaiskii dirt.

On my way back from the store, a wonderfully large superstore with everything in the world but tofu and peanut butter, I walked by one of the little old ladies selling vegetables. They sit at low tables, or on stools, peddling. I've been suspicious of them, they certainly have a quaint air about them, but I don't want to be duped, for all I know, they just pick up some veggies at the megamart and sit on the streets looking cute.

I felt pretty silly ignoring them as I walked by with my gigantic grocery bag, so I bought some kind of tomato pepper garlic onion paste in a jar. Maybe I was duped, but I think this little old lady makes it herself, with vegetables from her garden, and I think this is how she got to be so old and pleasant. I think I'll go back to her stand, and maybe she will remember me.

Also, a note about violin club. I spent Sunday evening there, from 6-930. Violin club rehearses four times a week, each rehearsal bookended with a potluck feast.

Why do the Jews of Novosibirsk remain?

It brings me back to Cajuns I met south of New Orleans. Their barrier island persists only thanks to a large pump that moves sand from solid ground. That's when the surf is calm.

Even as the young and hopeful move away, even if most have assimilated beyond recognition, in a city borne of Soviet communism and popular anti-Semitism,

Most of them probably can't leave. Where would they go? No space in Israel, no jobs in America.

You can't just relocate a community, not even if it makes all the sense in the world, as the ground washes away beneath them.

My stomach is filled to its brim in preparation for atonement. I'm putting off Kol Nidre, just a tad, but to no avail, for I'm basically out of food. Planned it this way.

Things are starting to make a bit more sense around here. It helps to think less about how far away I am, and how I brought this upon myself, and more about simply being in a place, for a period of time. And I'll make of it what I will.

There's a paper I promised I'd finish by Halloween, and I'd like to nail it to the wall prior to my departure for Moscow on Thursday. So I've been spending large chunks of free time in undergraduate gear. Which explains the fever pitch of Facebook activity. Now you know.

Quick change of lesson plan for my “business English” class. Some questions for discussion:

*What is a visionary?

*How has Steve Jobs changed the world?

*Who are some other visionaries who have changed the way we live?

*What makes Apple different from other tech companies?

*What challenges does Apple and its new CEO, Tim Cook, now face?

*Should we all wear blue jeans and black turtles to work?

*Do you consider Apple products to be “revolutionary”? Why, or why not?

*What do you think Steve Jobs meant when he said, “A lot of times, people don’t know what they want until you show it to them”?

Not sure if I’ll use all of these, we’ll see how things go.

Now pick a partner and figure out how you plan to change the world!

Today, I joined a violin club. We rehearse four times a week! The catch is, you only show up when you feel like it. Today, we were three. I was put to the test! I suspect that only I was sight-reading.

Today, earlier today, I laid down the law. Said I:

I don't REALLY care if you giggle and text while your classmates are presenting

BUT

it's RUDE

and FURTHERMORE

I will give you a LOW GRADE if you

keep up this nonsense

now DON'T MAKE ME try to say this in RUSSIAN!

A good little meeting. And a consensus: Novosibirsk needs more trash cans.

We will ponder the name of our group. A good name is important.

The Russians are in charge of that.

We will meet on Fridays, but not this Friday.

I am silly, American, and a hippie for thinking that we might change a law.

I have never been to a bar in Novosibirsk? What is my problem? Have I been ill?

In Russia, the government is a force of nature. We can endure and hope for better days.

Today was pretty exhausting, so far - my "busy Monday." The news articles I brought in to discuss with the students turned out to be too hard for a couple of the classes, so I had to improvise. They are surprisingly happy to engage with group discussions or impromptu "pair presentations," and I am never at a loss for controversial issues to assign, so that's a good fallback.

I just now stuffed myself full of a splendid tuna salad, assembled with a dash of tartar sauce, a heap of slivered cabbage, cucumber+parm sandwichettes on the side. I went a little overboard with the cabbage, so I made a kapusta salad (a Russian thing) with the leftovers - olive oil, a bit of mayo, black pepper, balsamic vinaigrette. To be snacked later this evening.

Cabbages in my life have such inertia, but I love them so. For weeks, one will sit in my fridge, we eye one another on the daily, awaiting the fatal slices and chops. I put off the chore for another day, I regret my purchase, why not just crack an egg, but then when I finally do the deed, it is so crunchy and refreshing! A blast of flavor, just a passage removed from the dirt beneath our toes!