Building Bridges of Cheese

My craving for Gouda cheese would not go away, and I soon found myself on the hunt for some in the dairy section of a grocery store in south-west Moscow.  I asked the girl behind the counter where the Gouda was, but she just looked at me as if I had asked her on which aisle I might find the the lost Princess Anastasia.  

Great.

Apparently the word "Gouda" is not one of those blessed international cognates that often comes to the rescue when navigating conversations in a foreign language.  I wasn't about to give up on my quest, but I was getting nowhere fast trying to explain the intricacies of Gouda to a non-connoisseur of cheese.  After several minutes of trying to penetrate the language barrier, I was about to pull out my phone and consult Google translate but a nearby woman walked over and asked me what I was looking for.

"Gouda," I said as clearly as possible.

She replied, "Oh, you mean Gouda.  It's right over there."

She pointed to an aisle behind me where I quickly spotted my beloved Gouda.  I then rolled my eyes because I had pronounced it "GOO-dah" but my cheese savior pronounced it "GOW-duh," at which point the girl behind the counter quipped in exasperation, "Well, why didn't you just say so?!"  At that point I felt like retorting in a British accent, "It's levi-OOO-sa, not levio-SAAA!"  But then I didn't because I doubted they would appreciate the Harry Potter reference.

So I grabbed the Gouda and made my way to the checkout line.  It just so happened that my good cheese Samaritan stood in line behind me with her groceries, so I took the time to thank her for helping me complete my cheese quest.  She said not to mention it, but having noticed my accent she asked me where I'm from.

I paused for just a second.

Whenever people ask me this question, I deliberate over the advice from my well-meaning Moscow Program coordinators to lie about my origins.  They suggest that whenever people ask it's best to answer with England or Canada.  After all, Russia is not on the brink of war with either of these countries, and they seem to think that if I mask the crime of my American birth it will help me avoid inciting conflict on the streets of Moscow.  

But I hate to lie.  And I really enjoy watching people's reactions.

"The United States of America," I proudly answered.

Her eyes widened and the curious smile disappeared from her face.

"But what about the sanctions?!" she questioned, assuming that this sensitive subject was grounds enough to rebuild the Berlin Wall starting right there in the super-market.

First, you have to realize that Russians are much more open to the idea of discussing politics, a topic mostly forbidden in American culture even among close friends and family.  Knowing this I wasn't completely caught off guard, but I knew I had to choose my next words carefully.

"Yes, it's true our governments are political enemies, but that doesn't mean the citizens can't be friends.  Don't you agree?"

She thought for a moment, then her smile returned.

"I suppose you're right," she agreed.

Did you know that Russia is the U.S.'s closest non-contiguous
neighbor?  Our continental land masses are about 53 miles
apart, but there are two islands straddling the center of the
strait (Big Diomede, Russia, and Little Diomede, US) that bring
the distance down to about 2.5 miles at their closest point.

I've thought a lot about my experience with that woman and how we totally bonded over Dutch cheese.  And although I'm just an American drop in an ocean of Russians, I like to think that it's through small and simple experiences like this that great things come about.  There's still a long way to go before we bridge the gulf between our nations, but I am confident that both sides of the Bering Strait will soon realize that our differences are far outweighed by what we have in common.

And Then There's Love

Moscow does not wake up till 9 or 10am.  This was a problem for me at first because the sun blasts through my window around 4am and illuminates my bedroom like a permanent camera flash, and I suddenly find myself wide awake at a time when the rest of the world is fast asleep.  And so I go for a run, play around on the monkey bars near my hotel, make a hot breakfast, study scriptures, study Russian, and then it's still just 8 o'clock or so and two hours remain before the city starts warming up.  But as jet lag has gradually worn off and I've learned to keep the bedroom curtains tightly closed I've more or less fine tuned my sleep schedule so that I can at least sleep a few extra hours in spite of the upcoming summer solstice.

Aslan and I in front of
the Temple of Christ the Savior

I've spent these first couple weeks getting used to the metro system, which is a vast network of subway tunnels that closely resembles a spider web stretched across the Moscow River with Red Square at the center.  Virtually anywhere I need to go is a short walk away from a metro station, which makes getting around very convenient.  And each time I descend into the metro I feel like I'm stepping into the wizarding world, because the stations often have cavernous, vaulted ceilings that are exquisitely decorated (much like the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry Magic).

Red Square (behind me) is in the center of Moscow

Classes have already begun, and my instructor's name is Eugene (Евгений).  I consider him to be an adorable old man who spends much of each class time imparting bits of Russian wisdom to us and extolling the virtues of President Putin.  He also reminds me just a bit of Albert Einstein with his short stature, frizzy snow white hair and mustache.  But apart from his endearing idiosyncrasies, he is proving to be a good teacher.  Right now we are discussing immigration and the reasons why people move to another country, and we listed off the most well known reasons:  economic hardship, political unrest, war, etc.  And then Cassandra, one of the students in the class, explained how her now husband moved from Ukraine to the U.S.  Eugene immediately gets this starry look in his eyes and says with a tender sigh, "Ah, yes.  And then there's love."  Ever since that day Eugene has found a way to bring up love in our discussions, and then he will usually throw in a comment about his wife and romance with that same starry look in his eyes.  It's just so cute how old and romantic this guy is!

Speaking of love, one of the coolest places I've been to so far in Moscow is the Novodevichy Convent.  The neighboring pond and surrounding grounds are famous for inspiring a famous scene in Leo Tolstoy's Anna Karenina where Levin is ice skating on the frozen pond during winter and sees Kitty and falls in love with her all over again.  Tolstoy writes the following heart-throbbing words, "He knew she was there by the rapture and the terror that seized on his heart. . . . There was apparently nothing striking either in her dress or her attitude. But for Levin she was as easy to find in that crowd as a rose among nettles. Everything was made bright by her. She was the smile that shed light on all round her."

Statue of the tsar who liberated
the Russian peasants

How can you read those words and not swoon?  And then to go to that very pond and think about love and romance is enough turn anyone into a romantic!  So far I've had most of my adventures in Moscow with the other bros in my group, but I'm realizing more and more that Moscow is a city built for couples.  This is definitely a city I would like to revisit one day with a sweetheart!

The famous Kremlin

I had so much fun on this morning run around Moscow University!

Behold the famous pond where Levin and Tolstoy ice skated

Ah, love . . .

The Novodevichy Convent

On Red Square wearing my red communist pants

At the mausoleum of Lenin

At Gum, the luxurious shopping center on Red Square; a veritable temple of consumerism

At the famous Tretyakov Gallery, one of the most
famous museums of Russian art

The Smell of Moscow

Of the five senses, I think smell is the one with the best memory.  At least that's what my first thought was after taking a deep breath of air outside the Moscow airport.  The air has a smoky quality that seems to impart just enough second hand nicotine to make you feel a buzz.  Or maybe I'm just feeling giddy about returning to Eastern Europe after coming home from a mission in Ukraine three years ago.  Whatever the case, that smell has triggered a flood of beautiful memories, and as the day has unfolded I've been relishing this sensory overload while getting settled in Moscow.

Several people have asked, "How does it feel going back?"

Well, anticipating this trip has been a lot like what Katniss Everdeen must have felt when she was chosen yet again to compete in the Hunger Games.  Although I deeply loved my time as a missionary, those who have served can attest to how brutal some parts of a mission can be.  And so I've been trying to shake this "Quarter Quell" mentality that's been giving me a hard time dissociating life as a missionary in Eastern Europe and what life will be like as a civilian here.  But this struggle is quickly being swallowed up by how much I love Russians.

Thanks to Dasha, Yulia, and Yulduz (not pictured) for helping me get settle in Moscow.

In the coming months, I'll probably talk a lot about how much I love Russians and their beautiful culture.  And I'll start with this:

A taxi driver named Igor was holding up a sign at the airport with "Carroll" written on it, so I go and introduce myself.  After establishing that I'm the only Carroll that could possibly be in Moscow he kindly takes my baggage and shows me to the car.  He sits down, starts the engine, plugs in my destination into his GPS, and then says to me, "Hang on a sec, I'm gonna have a smoke."  And so right there by the side of the cab he quickly puffs through a cigarette before we set off.  The entire way to Moscow University he tells me absolutely everything I need to know about Moscow, about how he was born there, about how well his dacha is doing this year, and with a particular gleam in his eyes he tells me about how much he is looking forward to gathering mushrooms in the forest later in the season--I just love Russians!