Thank you to the Rev. John Dreyer

We had an outstanding visit from our dear friend the Rev. John Dreyer, who serves as a recruiter (real title: Admissions Counselor) for Concordia Theological Seminary - Fort Wayne.  We had a blast!  I mean, he was working like a dog and not having any fun at all (this was a working trip, after all).  I don't want John to get in trouble with Rast.  I mean, President Rast.

Anyway, thanks to Pastor Dreyer for preaching at our Wednesday evening Mass, faithfully proclaiming God's Word and sharing in the most holy body and blood of our Lord - as well as making connections with men in the area interested in serving in the holy ministry.

Grace and I go back about a decade with John, and below is a picture of us together at my graduation from CTSFW in 2004.  It was obviously a more flattering camera angle seven and a half years ago as the gray hairs were sparse, if not rare!

Rev. John Dreyer and Vicar Larry Beane, 2004

Must be the light in the church...

Rev. John Dreyer and Rev. Larry Beane, 2012

Here is a link to our pictures after yesterday's service and during today's visit to the French Quarter - including the Napoleon House, Jackson Square, the St. Louis Cathedral, Arcadian Books, the Cafe du Monde, and a walk along the river.

What a great joy to catch up with a brother pastor and friend!

My Siberian Adventure - Day 24 - July 20, 2011

Begin: Yekaterinburg
Fly to: Moscow (Domodedovo Airport)
Fly to: Washington (Dulles Airport)
Fly to: Kenner (Louis Armstrong Airport)
Drive to: Gretna

My alarm goes off at 4:30 am.  Dan is up and ready to shower.  I begin to pack my bags and close up my cot.  I am able to IM with Grace one last time.  We are very excited.  I am bleary-eyed.  The sky looks as bright as it did three hours ago when I went to sleep - not quite dark.  In a matter of minutes, the sky becomes blue.

I distribute my things between bags and pack clothing as best as I can to protect fragile items.  I pack my backpack inside my carry-on in case I can't have my carry-on with me under my seat.

Father Sergey arrives on time and drives us to Yekaterinburg's Koltsovo Airport.  The language barrier and time of day makes it a quiet ride.  Before we leave the car to walk to the terminal, Sergey gives me two CDs - the ones he had been playing in the car.  He gives the third disk - Dire Straits - to Dan.  He accompanies us to the terminal.  He joins us through the preliminary security search.  It was not aggressive, but I was frisked by a lady officer - something that (at least so far) is not done in the U.S.

We head to the check-in line and say goodbye to Sergey (who has to work at his full-time secular job today), and head off to security.  Again, the blue footies and the naked-scanner.  This time I see that there is a small locked room blocked off by frosted glass where the naked-scanner operator works.

We make it to our gate and a bus drives us to our plane.  It is an A320 - not large but not small either.  There are three seats on each side per row.  Dan and I are seated together.

The Ural Airlines staff is friendly, but they speak almost no English - but enough.  Our flight to Moscow is less than two hours.  They serve a hearty boxed breakfast - which is almost like every other meal in Russia: salad, hot dish (chicken and rice in my case), bread, butter, cheese, meats, a cookie, a small cup of tea, and even a little chocolate bar.  I save the bread, cheese, meats, and chocolate to bring back home to share.

Our flight was wonderful and comfortable.

We arrived at Domodedovo Airport, and it is very familiar thanks to my introduction by Elena.  What was formerly exotic and a bit intimidating had become comfortable.

There are a few new experiences, however.

We were selected for some kind of interview after checking our luggage.  Perhaps this was because of the crucifix around my neck.  We were asked what we had in our bags.  The young woman x-rays our bags, but strangely, there is no operator at the console to look at the images.  She then had us open our bags and rifles through all of our things, asking questions about whether or not we have "cultural" items.  What the hell does that mean?  The only reason I think I know what she might be after is because of the story I had heard of the LCMS pastor a couple years back who was detained at the airport because he had an antique crucifix that he had purchased.  He had bought it legally, but such things are not permitted to leave Russia.  The irony is that in the Soviet Union, such things were destroyed.  Now, taking them out of the country - even if you have purchased them legally - is not allowed.

The lady officer handles my books repeatedly and asks questions about "icons."  Since all of my icons are in my checked bag, and none of them are antiques, I answer "no" to all of her questions.  She wants to know what souvenirs I have.  I explain that I have refrigerator magnets, coffee mugs, etc.

She is finally (though reluctantly) satisfied, and we hastily repack our things and leave.

We head to Passport Control.  This is in a section of the airport known as Passenger Control.  Dan and I go to different lines, as he has one of the new electronic passports with the chip.

There are two young women decked out like Panamanian generals in the booth.  One takes my passport and unceremoniously removes it from the plastic cover.  She looks at it, looks at me, yawns, and flips through it trying to look official.  I stand patiently.  She doesn't ask me any questions at all.  She gives me my passport back and turns on the green light for me to exit.

At security, we were again (for the second time, I believe) asked if we had packed our own bags.  We then head to the blue footies and the naked-scanner, assemble our stuff, and finally emerge into the airport proper.

As the airport has wifi, I was able to IM with Grace.  Dan and I have to hang out and wait for the United agent to show up.  Dan discovers the self-check-in kiosks and is ale to get his seat assignment and boarding pass.  Mine will not work for some reason.  I have to wait until 9:15 for the United personnel to arrive.

In line, we meet an elderly man who is a native Russian who has lived for more than 30 years in San Francisco.  He is a trained mathematician and was a designer of computer chips in Silicon Valley.  His wife is dying of cancer.  The details of his story are unclear.  He considers both Moscow and San Francisco to be his homes.  Like many scientists and mathematicians, he went to school in Novosibirsk.

The United agent is a young Russian woman who asks me if I packed my own bags.  She takes my passport to another clerk, and there seems to be some kind of discussion.  I wait.  I still have no seat assignment and no boarding pass.  She finally returns with my passport and sends me to the booth to check my bag.

The agent there asks me if I would like to upgrade to Economy Plus for $100.  I decline.  What seems to be happening is that the economy seats have been overbooked.  Nevertheless, I receive what appears to be a boarding pass, though without a seat assignment.

Lacking available airport seating, Dan and I take up a position near the elevator in the main part of the airport.  We have some time.  We take turns going to the bathroom - there are long lines.  I'm able to briefly IM with Grace again.

I'm reflecting on the airport security issue.  We went through the naked-scanner.  I'm wondering why we still have to remove our belts and shoes if they are able to look at the inside of our gonads.  I guess it keeps the blue-footie people at their jobs.  More likely it is the general principle of Soviet government (from which we in the United States are not exempt) according to one of our Russian friends: to humiliate and dominate the individual at every turn.  It's about control.

Anyway, I would like a coffee, so Dan and I take our carry-ons and go for a walk.  Ah!  A nice coffee shop whose Cyrillic letters spell out "Coffee Mania."  It's a mania all right!  A cappuccino is $13 U.S.  A simple cup of tea is even more!  There are vending machines in the airport, but we don't have any small bills.

We return to our gate to learn that our flight is delayed.  I get online and send a few e-mails and facebook "thank yous."  We learn that our plane has "mechanical problems."  Great.  We find a small airport magazine store that sells drinks.  A plastic bottle of Coke is only 47 rubles (a little more than a buck and a half).  Iced tea is 170 rubles.  Interestingly, Diet Coke (Coke Light in Russia) is twice as expensive as regular Coke.  It's made, I believe, with saccharine - and tastes terrible.  I buy us a couple drinks and pay with Visa.

Prior to boarding, there is yet another agent at the gate who asks us if we packed our own bags.  There are not enough seats at the gate, and we are standing - like many others.

After a long wait, we board.  Dan and I are not sitting together.  In fact, he has been put into an Economy Plus window seat, while I am again in "the middle of the middle" for the longest part of the trip home.  We are informed that our connecting flights are being rerouted.

I'm squished between two Russian guys whose families are in the rows in front and behind.  I had taken my Nook, my computer, and a couple books and put them in my backpack at the gate.  This enabled me to have them under the seat in front of me while my red wheeled-carry-on is overhead.

At 2:45 we are in the air - about two hours late.  Our connections are being rescheduled.

I'm tired.  I'm going to take a nap.

Here come the drinks.  I order a ginger ale.  The stereotype is true: all the Americans want ice while the Russians decline.  The Russians prefer juice - orange or tomato - while the Americans prefer soda - as a rule, that is.

Dinner (lunch?) was not as good as what the Russian airlines served.  It wasn't bad, but rather just tasteless.  The salad was a bowl of leaves that tasted like paper.  I took a bite and didn't touch the rest.  One of the Russian guys next to me asked me what the salad dressing was for.  I told him that it was for the "salat" - and then told him that Russian "salat" is better.  He laughed.

The chicken dish with rice wasn't bad, nor was the little cake - a sort-of mildly industrial strawberry.  he bread was definitely industrial.  Welcome back to America!  Rather than risk another instant coffee, I opted for a tea.  Less of a gamble.  It's hard to screw up tea, though it was not served with the bag as it was on Russian flights.

I would have liked to have practiced Russian with my neighbor, but I didn't even know enough to get started.  I will have to work on it.

It's 8:00 am NOLA time and our plane is crossing the border from Sweden to Norway.

I sure hope that either I can make my connection or get another route home today.  This is a long flight, but knowing that I will see Grace and Leo makes it a great joy!  I can't wait to get home!

The stewardess comes by with the coffee.  It is brewed!  I'm sure drinking coffee will be a mistake.  My poor system is not going to know whether it is time to sleep (it is 8:00 pm Novosibirsk time) or time to wake up (it's 8:00 am NOLA time) - but I'm really Jonesing for a coffee.  The Moscow Airport cheated me out of my cappuccino by its avarice.  So, no matter the consequences, I'm having my coffee, dammit, and with milk and sugar to boot!  It's not good, but it's coffee - and it didn't set me back twelve bucks either!  I figure this will help ramp me back up to the good stuff.

I almost bought a Turkish coffee urn at the Moscow airport, but Dan had warned me about the Moscow prices (confirmed by the cappuccino), and I said "nyet."  Besides, I really didn't have room in my carry-on.

After all of this liquid, I have to pee.  I'm in the middle of the middle, of course, just as I was on the way to Moscow, and both of my seatmates are sleeping.  I nudge the poor guy on my left and say: "Извините. Туалет." (Excuse me. Toilet.).  He's a good sport, and gets up to let me go by.

I have to wait a long time.

After returning, my seatmate speaks to me in broken English.  He says, "I love God."  I remember this expression from one of Richard Wurmbrand's books.  This seems to be an idiomatic way of confessing Christianity.  Indeed, he is a Christian - a Pentecostal.  He knows that I am a Christian, perhaps from my table prayer and sign of the cross, or maybe because of the cross around my neck.  I tell him that I am a Lutheran pastor.  He has lived in the U.S. for a few years, though English remains difficult for him.  His wife and children are in the seats behind us.  His children are fluent in English.  They used to live in California, and now they live in Maryland.  They just returned from a seven-month trip to Belarus to care for elderly relatives.

I get back to writing and he gets back to sleeping.  Since we are back in the Western hemisphere - just off the coast of Iceland and almost to Greenland - I change my wedding ring back to my left hand.  It feels more natural there, but has been on my right hand long enough to create a small calloused ridge.

After several hours of transferring journal notes, I decide to rest my hand.  I'm beginning to get a little tired.  It's 12:20 am Novosibirsk time, 12:20 pm New Orleans time.  We're heading into Labrador.  We have covered 5,396 km at 34,000 feet, 3:09 (hours) to destination, 2,500 km to go.  It is -38C outside of the plane.  Our ground speed is 517 mph, 835 km/h.

We land about an hour late.  It does look like I will miss my flight.  I meet up with Dan as we rush off the plane.  We head to customs, go through quickly, pick up our bags, recheck our bags, and go through security again - even though each minute that goes by means missed connections.

People are steamed.

The line is chaotic.  People are frustrated and in a hurry.  I finally emerge to inquire about my flight.  The board says it has left.  The customer service rep, an elderly man, is smart-alecky and rude, being quite obnoxious to a couple of German girls in front of me - who don't seem to understand his "humor."  He sends me to customer service at C-20, and tells me with a smirk. "There will be a long line."  I consider for a split second telling him this is why Americans are not always liked around the world.  Instead, I thank him for his "help."  Welcome back to the United States.

Anyway, I rush over to gate C-20 and meet up with Dan.  This is the selfsame place that I had met Herbert and Klaus at the other end of this adventure.  And it isn't quite over yet!  Dan had phoned me and met me there.  From the line of unhappy international travelers, I ask him if it is possible just to go back to Siberia.  Things are not looking good.  The clerk informs me that there are no other flights to New Orleans today.  He could get me to Houston.

But, here comes a break in the gloom, a tiny crack in the window of opportunity that could slam shut any second.  It seems that there are (what else?) mechanical problems on the flight to New Orleans, and it hasn't actually taken off yet.  He suggests that I run to the gate - which is a long, long way.

Dan and I sprint along the airport.  At the gate, I am told we are waiting for information.  Nevertheless, I am given a boarding pass!  Of course, this assumes that we will fly.

Dan and I head to the bar and enjoy a final пива - a couple of Stella Artois.  We were both very pleased with how the trip went, and both expressed appreciation for one another as travel companions.

We say goodbye, and I head back to my gate.  There is a Starbucks on the way, and a latte makes friends with the beer in my belly.  They seem quite as compatible as Dan and I seem to be.  I return to my gate, and it turns out that I have even more time to wait.  So, I walk back, meet up with Dan again, and wait with him at his gate.  After a short wait, he boards and departs.  I walk back to my own gate, and, thanks be to God, we are boarding!

I am even in Economy Plus this time on the A319.

God willing, I will be with my family at home soon!

It's time for this adventure to draw to a close.  We land at New Orleans Louis Armstrong Airport - which is actually in nearby Kenner where Grace and I first lived when we moved to the area - with Leo in tow in utero.  That was an adventure of a different sort, as planes used to fly so close to our home that we could just about see the faces of passengers in the windows.

We land!  With excitement that borders on disbelief, I head to baggage claim.  And there they are: Grace and Leo!  My bag arrives quickly.  Leo is beaming as both are clinging to me with excitement.  Grace drives us back to Gretna where we celebrate my homecoming to America with ice cream at McDonald's.

So now, this adventure has ended, and our adventure together as a family begins anew.  Thanks be to God!  Amen!

Here is a link to all of my pictures from Day Twenty-Four.

My Siberian Adventure - Day 23, July 19, 2011

Begin: Chelyabinsk
Drive to: Yekaterinburg
Drive to: Polevskoya
Drive to: Yekaterinburg

I woke up a little on the late side and took a shower.  I was beginning to think that there was no hot water - but my patience was rewarded.

Dan, Alexy, and I enjoy a very nice buffet breakfast in the Green Restaurant downstairs - which is included.  This breakfast is like Russian supper - with sausage, chicken, and pasta - along with more typical breakfast foods like boiled eggs.  There are also the traditional drinks - water and fruit juices.  One berry drink is translated as "hip drink."  Father Alexey doesn't know why.  The music is a little odd, quite loud, a sort-of disco or fitness club version of Indian or Middle Eastern music.  I actually dig it.  We check out of the hotel and meet Father Sergey.  I'm armed with bottled water that Alexey purchased for me.  Russians drink a lot of bottled water.  This one is sparkling ("living.").

We drive to a drab factory building where Dan's wife's company has a branch office.  He hopes to get inside for a picture, but security won't let us in.  We wait in a cramped reception area.  A manager with whom Father Daniel has corresponded comes down and apologetically gives Dan some brochures to take home.

We hit the road which is terribly bumpy, posing for pictures at the sign indicating that we have just left Chelyabinsk.  The terrain between Chelyabinsk and Yekaterinburg is wide open with bright yellow fields.  There are birch forests in the distance.

We arrive at the church flat, drop off our things, and eat lunch at the food court - at Blinoff, a pancake (blini) place.  It's outstanding!  I had a pancake with "old Russian meat" - which is a spiced beef - as well as a cherry pancake with a sweet condensed milk sauce.  I also had a soulanka, a roll, and a coffee (which was not instant!).  The pancakes are actually crepes.  They are made on the spot on two large griddles.

After lunch, we head off the to the Orthodox diocesan store for my last opportunity to buy icons for souvenirs.

Father Sergey drives us to the archbishop's residence - which is opulent.  There is an army of Mercedes and Lexus cars.  We see bearded and cassocked clergy surrounded by secret-service-type bodyguards with sunglasses and earpieces.  It was rather surreal - quite a contrast to our own bishop with his Toyota.  A lot of people have apparently been turned off to Christianity in Russia because of the financial dealings of some of the Orthodox churches.

After parking, we walk into the store and start shopping for icons.  Of all of our icon-buying trips, I have been unsuccessful in finding an icon of St. Raphael the archangel to bring back to Grace.  Even now I can't find one - until I visited the very last room and looked at the very last icon!  I see a small icon of an angel.  The Cyrillic letters are hard to read, but I sound it out and it comes out like "Raphael" to me.  I point to the icon to buy it, and the lady says: "Raphael."  Very cool!

Father Daniel and I pick up some icons and Father Alexey buys a stack of books.

Afterwards, we head back to the church flat for a quick change of clothes.  We all get into our clericals as we are headed to the local ELKRAS congregation for a visit.  This is Father Dennis's congregation, the pastor I offended regarding women's "ordination."  His predecessor was a woman who was there for three years.

Father Sergey drives.  He has been playing an interesting and eclectic mix of very good pop music in the car: soundtracks from House, MD, an album called Dead Man's Bones, a collection of Christmas tunes by Annie Lenox, some blues, and Dire Straits' Brothers in Arms album.  Father Sergey is a Dire Straits/Mark Knopfler fan.  Dan asks about Dire Straits and I fill him in on the Brothers in Arms album.  Sergey listens in with amusement.

The ELKRAS parish is located in Polevskoya.  The congregation meets in a rented room in an office complex.  We are greeted warmly by the pastor, who is young and speaks some English and German in addition to Russian.  The congregation is nearly all older women.  There are two younger women and one young man and one old man in the congregation.

Fathers Sergey, Daniel, Alexey, and I sit in the front row behind the small keyboard.  Father Alexey translates as Father Dennis explains that we will sing a couple hymns, have a prayer, and then we (the guests) will speak.

The service book has many short hymns.  They are essentially "praise songs" of a Taize character.  We sing one such song, singing the Russian part three times, a Latin translation twice, and then repeating the Russian again.  The next song we only sing n Russian.  Dennis led the singing and played the electronic organ.

There is a small but dignified altar set up for communion with a Bible situated in the middle.  There is also a small, dignified pulpit.  Both altar and pulpit are adorned by a pair of flickering candles.

There is a small icon of Christ on the wall, under which are three western depictions of our Lord.  There is a little table underneath with a candle, an open Bible, and a crucifix.  On the Bible is an Orthodox rosary.

After a short prayer, Father Dennis introduces us.  I spoke about our congregation back home, about New Orleans, and about my family.  Father Daniel does the same regarding his family and parish.  I related the story of how Grace had once told me that she would live anywhere but New Orleans which everyone found amusing.  I also told them how Grace was the daughter of a nun and the wife of a priest who was given a most appropriate name for a Lutheran pastor's wife.

Afterwards, a lady asked about Hurricane Katrina.  I took her e-mail and will send her links to pictures.

Dan also spoke about the catechism and the sacraments.  I spoke about the heroic nature of Russian Lutheranism and implored them not to take their freedom for granted as, unfortunately, many Americans do.  Sergey and Alexey also give brief addresses.

The congregation was very hospitable and treated us to tea and dessert pastries afterward.  They gave us a box of them to take with us.  I offered to take some home to my family, but they warned against it - as they were home-made with sour cream.  So I took a picture instead.

We drove back to the church flat in Yekaterinburg and reflected on what a tragedy women's "ordination" is.  These are nice people who have been led astray - including women in their eighties who had never seen such things in he churches of their youth.

We arrive at the flat and say our goodbyes to Father Alexey.  He is flying back to Novosibirsk, having found a flight for the same price as the train would cost.  Father Sergey will be by at 5:20 am tomorrow morning to bring us to the airport.

Dan and I change clothes.  I check e-mail and have an IM session with Grace.  I send my dad a SnapYap message.  Dan and I head back for one final visit to the beer tent.  First, we decide to walk around the mall.  Unfortunately, it is in the process of closing.  But we take a short walk and snap a few pictures.

We drop into the beer garden to find our familiar waiter working.  He knows just what beers to bring us.  I decide to eat, and so does Dan.  I order mante (steamed dumplings) and a plav (rice and meat).  The portions are pretty good-sized, and the price is reasonable.  Dan also orders a plav, and along with the beers and a generous tip, the total is 600 rubles - about $20.

Our waiter takes our picture.  We explain that we are flying back to America tomorrow.  Actually, Dan explains in Russian accompanied by hand gestures.

We head back to the flat to pack.  I decide to shower then rather than waiting until 4:30 am.  I am excited to be going home, as I am missing my wife and son terribly!  It is hard to fall asleep as my mind races.

Here is a link to all of my pictures from Day Twenty-Three.

  

Make room at the table...

As the year winds down, we are mixing things up at the family breakfast table.  In fact, we have invited a rather large and rotund guest to spend the next few days with us - whose mind is even more expansive than his physique: Mr. G. K. Chesterton (1874-1936).

As I mentioned a little over a month ago, our morning coffee and meditation ritual has grown to become a lecture series as well.  And it is one of the greatest things that we have instituted here at the Hollywood Mansion.

A few days ago, we wrapped up our breakfasts with Dr. Peter Kreeft (1937- ) and M. Blaise Pascal (1623-1662) - and I am sorry to see them have to go!  Christianity for Modern Pagans (a collaboration by Pascal and Kreeft) is one of those books that needs to be read again and again.  I can't thank Rev. David Petersen enough for sending me the book as a gift, and I am grateful to Dr. Kreeft for reintroducing Pascal to modern readers.  Pascal is utterly unique, prescient, brilliant, and yet easy to read - especially with Kreeft's cut-to-the-chase explanations and elucidations.  In short "Read this book!"  Buy it now.  In just a few minutes a day, we had it done over coffee in not much more than a month of readings.  If I can put together some time, I will blog a recap/review/reflection or some such.  As I said, the book has already become an old friend.

So here is where we are right now, and where we are going for the coming year...

• We continue with the ESV One Year Bible as read by the narrator.  Mrs. H. follows along in her paperback copy and attends to the computer narration while I prepare the cappuccino during the Old Testament reading.  And by the way, our ancient Krups espresso-maker is still carrying out its matinal and quotidian duties as if yet in its prime.
• After the Old Testament reading, I bring my offering to the table just in time to join in the New Testament reading.  I skim along in Greek as the narrator reads from the ESV (I like using my my sleek leatherbound Reader's Edition - thank you to Rev. Daniel Johnson for introducing me to it).
• For the Psalm, I follow along in Latin using my Gaba bilingual Psalter.  
• For the short Proverbs reading, I just listen.
• After the Bible reading, we embark on our lecture (see below) 
• We conclude with a brief closing meditation and prayer - this past year from St. Augustine.  Beginning January 1, we will broaden these meditations to other saints (unfortunately, the latter volume, unlike the former includes prayers to the saints, which we will simply modify as prayer to God).

So, regarding the lecture portion, having said "goodbye" to our good friends Kreeft and Pascal, we decided to invite C.S. Lewis (1898-1963) to the breakfast table, but in looking at schedules, we found that it fit in better with everyone's plans to first invite Mr. Chesterton for a reading of his brilliant Orthodoxy.  I've read it twice before myself (with nearly every other sentence highlighted), but this time, we are reading it together thanks to a narrator from LibriVox.  (And thanks to Rev. Philip Miller who told me about Librivox - a source of free audio books for works in the public domain).  We both follow along with the text in our Nook readers.  As of today, we are about a third of the way through Chesterton's witty and rollicking 1908 work defending the traditional Christian faith against both heresies of atheistic materialism (on one side) and pantheistic postmodernism (on the other) - though the word "postmodernism" would not be coined for another 40 years after the publication of Orthodoxy.  If you have not read Orthodoxy, it is a must read!  It is also free in many formats being out of copyright.

Indeed, we have had to shift around the furniture to make room for Mr. Chesterton.

He is a big man, with a big brain, a big personality, and big ideas!  He also has a big heart and a big humility, and we are delighted to have him join us!  We are also greatly looking forward to a lengthy visit from Dr. Lewis when we must say goodbye to Chesterton.  Our kitchen is simply not big enough to entertain all of our friends at once.  We expect to have bigger accommodations in eternity.

Once we complete Orthodoxy, we plan on reading through the works of Lewis as contained in The Complete C.S. Lewis Signature Classics, namely Mere Christianity, The Screwtape Letters, The Great Divorce, The Problem of Pain, Miracles, A Grief Observed, and The Abolition of Man (some, and possibly all, of these are available in audio format).  When we get to Screwtape, we will have to scramble to find an extra chair for Mr. John Cleese of Monty Python, whose reading of the letters is beyond perfect.  Interestingly, a couple parishioners just gave us another collection of Lewis works for Christmas: The Beloved Works of C.S. Lewis, containing Surprised By Joy, Reflections on the Pslams, The Four Loves, and The Business of Heaven - if we can get Dr. Lewis to commit for a longer stay, maybe we can work through those as well.

Anyway, we are pleased with the depth and direction of our morning routine.  It is a good way to get the mind and soul moving in the morning along with the body.  We encourage anyone and everyone to turn the breakfast table into a monastery and university.  It is the highlight of our day.

My Siberian Adventure - Day 21 - July 17, 2011

Visit: Yekaterinburg

I woke up fairly late, got ready quickly.  Father Sergey is picking us up at 10:30 am for the 11:00 Divine Service - which will likely start somewhere around 11:15.

Before Sergey and Alexey arrive, Dan and I go to the 2nd floor of the hotel for the buffet breakfast again - which is similar to yesterday's offering, but with a little variation in the fare.  We notice that there are several families on vacation and a lot of English writing on t-shirts - especially among the children.

Sergey and Alexey pick us up.  We arrive at church.

Father Sergey is the celebrant, and Father Alexey Trapiznikov - whom I have not met before - assists.  Before the service, we are greeted by a visitor, a pastor from Canada who has a missionary ministry.  He serves the Association of Free Churches (I think this is the name of the church body), a Norwegian Pietist church that is, I believe, headquartered in Minneapolis.  It is a denomination that is both liturgically "low" and has a "low" view of the office of the holy ministry.  He has worked with Father Pavel (Zayakin) for many years, and the two are good friends and colleagues.  He is on his way to Abakan to assist with Father Pavel's Bible camp for young people.

He is dressed in civilian attire, and he tells us about his eclectic Lutheran background, having served congregations in both the LCMS and in the ELCIC.  he currently lives near Vancouver, and makes annual mission trips to Russia and India.

He ended up in the Free Church because of their particular brand of low-church conservatism.  His church body does not "ordain" women.  When we ask him what is his church body's view of the Lutheran confessions, he is unsure.  He is a very likable middle-aged man and is shadowed everywhere by his 30-ish Russian translator.

After our morning visit and tea, Father Sergey prepares for Mass.  He is a soft-spoken middle aged man with a kind face, a closely-cropped beard, and short dark hair that is starting to develop "salt and pepper."  As the celebrant, he is clearly in charge.  Not typical for the services is Father Alexey (Streltsov) snapping pictures on his Nikon.  Father Alexey (Trapiznikov) preaches the sermon and serves liturgically as the deacon.

The communion rail only accommodates two communicants at a time, and the pastors only have room to scoot sideways between rail and altar to distribute the Holy Sacrament.  The church furniture originally came from the fist seminary in Novosibirsk.

After Mass, we retire to the kitchen for tea and cookies.  In deference to my caffeine addiction and shortfall, Father Sergey presents me with a day-glow yellow half-liter bottle of Mountain Dew with a rascally smile on his face.

We all pose for a group picture in the sanctuary - except of course, Father Alexey, our photographer.

Sergey and Alexey bring us to the hotel to check out and then bring us back to the church flat.  They go off for a while.  While waiting for them to return, I look out the window and journal.  It is warm and sunny outside, about 80F.

It looks very much like an American scene outside - with a few differences.  A young girl is walking a dalmatian, who would just as soon stay put under a tree.  She has to coax him to go.  Two babushkas (elderly ladies) walk together down the street clad in their "uniform" of flowery dresses and head scarves.  Two middle-aged women walk together with what appears to be a dachshund/beagle mix.  Two younger guys are checking out a car - perhaps to buy.  One of them is smoking a cigarette.

 Cars zip down the highway that is maybe a quarter mile (if that) from the flat.  The building across the street has typical enclosed balconies with clothes hanging outside.  Some people are on foot bearing plastic grocery bags.

Tired looking Latas (a Russian domestic automobile) roll by in sharp contrast to the more modern-looking imports - mainly Toyotas brought in directly from Japan, as evidenced by the steering wheel placement on the right.

Summers are very short here, and I get the impression that people make the most of their warm season.  Like my family members in Ottawa, they experience about six months of winter - with short days, reaching a peak of sunrise at about 10:00 am and sunset at about 4:00 pm.

Fathers Alexey and Sergey return and pick us up.  We are headed to lunch somewhere in Yekaterinburg.  Dan reads Crime and Punishment on his Kindle.  Alexey and Sergey converse intensely in Russian.  I'm getting a little road-weary.  I'm also quite homesick and looking forward to getting home.  Today is Miss Grace's birthday, but it's only 4 am back home.  Maybe I'll be able to get on an Internet connection some time today.  Otherwise, I'll ask Dan for his phone and fire off a text message to my dear wife.

Our drive takes us to a large event called the Technology Expo at Yekaterinburg - held in a huge convention center.  Parking and admission are free.  It is really incredible!

On the way in, we have to pass security.  The guard laughs at me good-naturedly as I have to deal with my crucifix, pocket watch, Palm device, pocket knife, and all sorts of coins, etc.  Unlike in the U.S., my small Swiss Army knife was not a problem.  I scramble to gather all of my things as my companions also have a laugh.

We ate lunch there, traditional Russian fare: salad (tomatoes and cucumbers), bread, pelmini (dumplings) and coffee/tea.  I took a chance on the instant coffee, as the brand name suggested it might be some kind of espresso.  It was a mistake.  I should have gone with the tea.  But the rest of the meal was nice.

We spent a good bit of time at the show.  We took a lot of pictures.

Father Alexey eplained that by air, Yekaterinburg is six hours from both London and Beijing.  The movers and shakers of Y-burg are trying to position the city as a business hub, an alternative destination at which to meet halfway.  Alexey is skeptical.  Russian president Vladimir Putin is very much pushing "nanotechnology" and Russians teasingly refer to him as the nano-president ("little president").  There is a girl at the show who wears what seems to be a red latex suit consisting of a skimpy top, short-shorts (also latex?) with the word "NANO" written in western letters on the bum.  The outfit was completed by her towering high heels.  It's quite a tableau.

There are also a couple of girls in day-glow green leotards advertising a bank.  They look a bit like the way C.S. Lewis portrayed the blue woman in his science-fiction novel Perelandra.  Father Daniel suggests that I get a picture.  Since my new policy is not to automatically say "no" and not hide behind my being an introvert - especially as a non-Russian-speaking foreigner - I walk up to them and motion to my camera asking: "Фото пожалуйста?"  They insist on including me in the picture.  They are fluent in English and are interested as to where Dan and I come from.  They are very good sports.

In the middle of the exhibit there is a huge, detailed model of the city of Yekaterinburg.  There is a section devoted to various businesses in Chelyabinsk.  There is even a booth selling Christian icons - which would have been unheard of twenty years ago. The place is crowded with people of every age group.  The most amusing to watch are the young couples.  Almost inevitably, the guys are quite casual - if not bordering on slovenly - while their wives or girlfriends are dressed to the nines.  It is so common as to be a cliché.

I buy a coffee mug on the way out that epitomizes Alexey's critique of many politicians' vision of modern Russia.  The mug had a tribute to Russia on one side, and another to the USSR on the other.  The caption reads (in Russian) "One History, One Country."  It is the view of those who see modern Russia as simply a reconstituted Soviet Union.  We go outside where there there are various trucks and heavy equipment - including a high-tech helicopter.

Afterwards, we drive downtown for some sightseeing.

In front of the main administrative building is a statue of - who else? - Lenin.  Father Alexey directs our attention to the top of the Soviet-style administration building complete with statues of triumphant workers and stars and other garish Soviet symbolism.  But Father Daniel is not with us.  I turn around to see him chatting with a group of young people who are sitting on the base of the Lenin statue.  I figure Dan is fielding questions about the United States or helping young people practice English.  I take a picture as Dan calls me over.

The college-age students hail from Spain, Ukraine, the Czech Republic, Poland, and Russia.  They are loud, gregarious, and friendly.  They all speak very good English, and are respectful.  We chat a little about where we come from.  One of the guys jots down his e-mail address so I can send him the pictures.

Father Sergey tells us a funny story about the Lenin statue.  Down the avenue are statues of Sverdlov and Kirov - two other Bolsheviks.  They seem to be pointing to Lenin.  The joke is that they are asking Lenin where he got his nice coat, and Lenin in turn is pointing at the shopping center across the street.

We went to that shopping center, which is located on a beautiful brick pedestrian mall.  We stroll along the walkway in the sun and chat.  We go inside and up the escalators to the 5th floor of the mall where there is a small food court.

There we find a restaurant called Hot American Pizza, a pelmini place, a more traditional Russian lunch establishment, and a (believe it or not) dessert place called Cherry Berry (back home we frequent a frozen yogurt shop of the same name).

Dan and I order pizza - of which Alexey quips is actually neither hot nor American.  Sergey gets the Russian food, and Alexey opts for the Pelmini.

We eat our "hot American pizza" in the capitalist mall as we look out the window to see Lenin pointing at us.  It is surreal and ironic.  Lenin seems so lost, so anachronistic and defeated, though his body is frozen in his usual triumphalistic pose.  From our view we see a good sized crater behind a fence.  It is filled with water.  Alexey explains that in Soviet times, it was a public toilet.  He said that it was free.  I remarked: "It still is" to the great amusement of my Russian brothers.  I think my attitude for Big Government and natural inclination to make fun of the state dovetails nicely with the post-Soviet sense of humor about the USSR.

From, we see a sign on the wall that is missing a letter.  I ask Father Alexey about it.  It says ССС-.  The last letter has been torn off.  Alexey confirms that indeed the now-truant final letter was a Р - the Russian R.  This was the sign for the now-defunct "USSR Cafe" - but the R has been taken away.  The word Кафе remains though.  More symbolic irony.

We visit a bookstore, a sort-of Russian version of Barnes and Noble.  They have a small English language section of books in English - some paperback classics.  They also have a section for learning Russian.  I buy a Random House course with 40 lessons, a book and 3 CDs.  I also pick up a phrasebook with CD for half the cost back home.

Father Daniel buys a beautiful political map of Russia.  Alexey picks up a few books.  Pastors are seldom as happy as when they are in bookstores.  I wandered off to buy some souvenirs.  My inability to communicate is a profound frustration.  The clerks are patient and kind, and they treat me like a child counting my coins for me and taking them from my outstretched hand.  I do know how to apologize and indicate to them that I don't know Russian.

On the way out, I see a 3D book with a jumping spider on it.  It includes a 3D viewer with various stereoscopic photos of bugs and spiders.  It costs the equivalent of $10 U.S.  Of course, I have to buy it for Leo.  My Visa card is declined - which Dan suggests is a safety feature because I had just used it a few minutes ago.  I pay cash.

We continue our stroll.  The architecture is western, modern, and beautiful - in some cases even opulent.

Father Sergey goes back to the car and meets us at the other end of the pedestrian mall.  Sergey and Alexey drop us back off at the church flat.  Dan and I venture out for a stroll and end up back at the beer tent.  We order a couple beers.

This time, I have my phrase book and dictionary.  With these tools, Dan and I set out to figure out the menu.  I call over to our waiter whose name is Ильхом (Ilichom?) - who is probably Kazakhstani.  He remembers us from before.  This time I use the phrase book to order in Russian.

He is amused and asks to see the phrase book.  He uses the book to ask me how much the phrasebook costs.  He is looking at the English section.  We all have a good laugh.  I took a couple pictures with him and the phrasebook.

I pay for our meal in cash, and Dan picks up the tip.  We head back to the flat.  I have trouble getting to sleep.

Here is a link to all of my pictures of Day Twenty One.

My Siberian Adventure - Day 19 - July 15, 2011

Visit: Yekaterinburg

I slept in a little.  The other guys are still asleep.  I instant-message a little with Grace and Leo for a short while (where it is still July 14, twelve hours behind me).  I take a shower - and it is a real treat!  It's a high-tech little booth with shower heads everywhere - and even a radio!  It's so high-tech, in fact, that I have to ask Dan how to turn on the water.

We have a typical breakfast of bread, cheese, meat, and tea.  There is a nice, fresh baguette of French bread and only real butter - not a bit of margarine in sight!  Father Daniel and I chat about the happenings back home in the Missouri Synod.

Father Alexey gets up as well.

A pile-driver pounds out its rhythm outside.  The windows are open and the sounds of the city enter the flat.  Father Alexey is chatting with Father Sergey on the computer.  It's a nice day - very sunny.  There may be thunderstorms later in the day.  Father Sergey will be by to get us in an hour and a half.  I pass the time doing some reading.  I wonder if my vision is getting worse.  The 1.5 glasses are getting a bit blurry and I'm now taking out my 2.0 spectacles for a spin.  Maybe my eyes are just tired.

The latter leg of the trip is the most difficult.  I'm homesick.  But I'm also looking forward to meeting Father Vlad and the people of Holy Spirit - Chelyabinsk.

Dan, Alexey, and I went to lunch close by to the church at a delightfully cozy Asian place called Кафе Дадаж (Cafe Dadazh).  The meal was nice.  I had a chicken shish kabob - which was basically wings.  There was a very mild sauce that was tasty.  I also had French fries for the first time in Russia, a side of onions (very strong, I barely ate any).  I also had a coffee with sugar.

We joked about how Tim Quill ate here a year ago - and we carried on about it.  We marveled that we were at the famous Tim Quill table.  The Rev. Dr. Tim Quill was the head of the Russian Project at Concordia Theological Seminary.  He is beloved of the Russian clergy - and held in equally high esteem by me.  I have pages of pithy quotes from Professor Quill, and count it a high honor to call myself his student to this day.

On the way out, I purchased a half-liter of Mountain Dew from the cooler for 50 rubles.  I explained to Alexey that it has the most caffeine of any major American soft drink (so I've been told anyway).  The clerk was chuckling at me, explaining that the only people who ever buy it are foreigners.  We all had a good laugh.

We take the short stroll back to the church flat and wait for Father Sergey.  Dan and I cannot resist playing around with the large pothole in the parking lot and taking pictures.

About 6:00 pm local time, we check into a local hotel.  I believe we will be staying two nights, as the church flat is spoken for by some other visitors.  They take our passports to register us.  The lady at the desk speaks decent English and has clearly been trained in customer service.

Father Sergey drives us to the imposing Orthodox church erected on the site where the Romanovs were murdered.  It was only built a few years ago, and the gilded onion domes radiate in bright shining gold tones.  People are selling icons and religious books in small booths on the street.

We take some pictures.

A lady speaks to Father Alexey.  She has invited us to a concert set to begin in a few minutes in the adjoining building which is technically the patriarch's residence.

We put on those weird blue show-covers like they have at the airport.  We go up the majestic marble staircase.  A small crowd is gathered.  A woman is seated at a piano - which is reputed to be the same instrument played by the Romanovs when they were in exile.

There are several powerful poetry readings interspersed with intense piano flourishes.  Since Father Daniel and I don't understand the Russian readings, we slip out.  Father Sergey has gone off for about an hour, and Father Alexey has been quietly translating the poetry for us.  The lady who invited us directs us to another performance - this time a woman who plays traditional Russian folk instruments and sings.  She was simply amazing!  One of her instruments was similar to an auto-harp, though without the buttons.  Another was a kind of pipe that could sing like a bird.  I need to get the names of the instruments from Father Alexey.  The performance was mesmerizing.





We visit the display of the Romanov memorabilia - which includes a hand-written note from the eldest daughter to her father, the deposed Tsar, shortly before the family was murdered.

We also visit the inside of the church very briefly.

Alexey explains that during Soviet times, the fate of the Romanovs was not known.  Nothing of the pre-Bolshevik era was taught in school.  Russians began to  learn what happened to the Romanovs under the governorship of Boris Yeltsin (he was from Yekaterinburg).  As the word began to spread, Yeltsin had the house where the Romanovs were killed torn down.

Father Alexey explained about the many strange and inexplicable things that happened to the people who shot the Romanovs and tried to cover up their crime.  The plan to destroy the bones of the family failed.  They had been buried in a mine-shaft, and had recently been discovered.  DNA tests confirmed the identity.  The church was built, and the truth could no more be hidden.  Eventually, the truth wins out even when it seems that injustice will prevail forever.

Fathers Alexey and Sergey bring us back to the hotel, the Atlantic.  Dan and I walk to the mall hoping to get dinner.  It is close to 11:00 pm.  The mall is closed except for a billiard hall.  We walk and find an open beer garden.  No-one there speaks English.  We order three plates of shasklik - not knowing what kind it was.  Our waiter was patient and displayed a great sense of humor.

We also had a couple beers.  I also ordered a Pepsi Africana.  I had no idea what it was, and so I tried it.  It is a Pepsi with lemon and lime - very tasty!

We walk back to the hotel.  It's now midnight, and still twilight.  I IM (Instant Message) and Snapyap (video conference) with Grace and Leo.  Dan is watching movies on his computer.

Here is a link to all of my pictures of Day Nineteen.

Two new guests for breakfast

Two years ago, I reported on the Hollywood family's morning ritual of Scripture reading.  Since that time, the practice has been expanded and altered to an extent.

Back in January, we decided to add a guest lecturer to our morning ritual - St. Augustine of Hippo.  We began to read a chapter from his Confessions each morning, followed by a very brief meditation and prayer from Augustine as found in Augustine Day by Day.

A few weeks ago, we made a slight modification to the rite by having the ESV narrator read the daily offering from the One Year Bible while we follow along.  For further study, as the narrator reads, I skim the New Testament text in Greek and the Psalm readings in Latin.  The narrator moves along at a good clip, and this is not the time for parsing and memorizing vocabulary.  The timing works out pretty well as the narrator wraps up the Old Testament lesson about the time that I am serving the cappuccino.

After ten months of learning from our dear brother in Christ and doctor of the church, the sainted bishop of Hippo, we have for the past week invited a couple of other great Christian minds into our home (upon the advice of, and kindly introduction by, the Rev. David Petersen): a fellow named Blaise Pascal (1623-1662) and his modern-day commentator and interpreter Dr. Peter Kreeft.  We are still praying with St. Augustine and enjoying his short meditations through the end of the year - but it is getting a little crowded at our breakfast table.  It is fortunate for us that we don't have to feed all of these people - though they are certainly feeding us.  The Pascal-Kreeft book is entitled Christianity for Modern Pagans - and it is a running conversation between the two as the latter engages the former's famous work, the Pensées, carrying on like old friends.

Our lectio continua is truly the highlight of the day: a time of God's Word, meditation, theology, and philosophy - a few moments of monastic peace each morning, any of which can become a day transformed into a sudden maelstrom of activity, stress, tragedy, or just plain hard work.  Our morning ritual is a time to stop and listen to the still, small voice of God's Word and to bask in the glow of saints and Christian thinkers - washed down with the most un-monastic treat of a frothy cappuccino.

My Siberian Adventure - Day 14 - July 10, 2011

Visit: Novosibirsk, Berdsk

I woke up very early this morning - about 5:30.  It gets daylight here very early.  I have a bit of an upset stomach.  I have also scratched open a small patch of eczema on my ankle.  Not wanting to learn about treating infections in Russia on an American health insurance plan, I err on the side of caution and cover the small wound with Neosporin and bandage it up.  It heals amazingly fast.

I take advantage of the matinal peace and quiet to transfer a few journal notes, to pray and meditate, and to reflect on my parish and parishioners back home.  I head to the shower about 8:00 am.  Afterwards, I meet Dan for a little breakfast and tea, and do some IM (instant message) with Grace followed by a short video session.  Our separation is very hard, but would be much worse without the technology that we enjoy.  Of course, the 12-hour time difference is something that constantly has to be dealt with.

I am the preacher at Mass this morning, and so I head to the church to get ready.  I meet Deacon Alexey Shillin - who greets me in fluent English.  Father Pavel (Khramov) will be the celebrant, and Father Alexey will be my translator and will assist with distribution.  Deacon Alexey will serve as the deacon and will be censing the altar.

Pavel helps me to get vested.  I borrow an alb, a cincture, a stole, and a pectoral cross.  It's always awkward when I have to wear vestments that are not my own.  I feel a little like a kid struggling to tie a Windsor knot.  We say a prayer in the small vestry that is located in the sacristy that doubles as a chapel.  Father Pavel then quickly goes over the service with me - especially the rubrics.  The service begins a few minutes late.

I am seated in the chancel with the clergy.  There is a good turnout in the pews.  Natasha is playing the organ. I do my best to pray and sing in Russian.  The pattern of the liturgy is, of course, familiar - while I don't understand very many of the individual words.

Father Alexey and I head to the pulpit.  From my perspective, we seem to have a good rhythm - although it might be a different story from Alexey's point of view!  Alexey is looking over my shoulder as I preach from my manuscript.  My text is the Prodigal Son.  Father Alexey has come up with a good word to translate the word "prodigal" - a similarly quaint and rarely used Russian word that means the same thing.

I took Holy Communion and remained standing outside of the chancel off to the side as the Russian clergy reverently distributed the Lord's body and blood.

After the service, we take some pictures.  Father Daniel pointed out that I may have been the first American to preach here following the formal declaration of fellowship between the LCMS and the SELC.  Actually, from the Russian perspective, we have always been in fellowship.  In an ironic twist, it is actually the American church body whose bureaucracy held up full altar and pulpit fellowship for many years.  It was a happy day in December when the new LCMS president, the Rev. Matthew Harrison, declared our two church bodies to be in full communion.  Years of bureaucratic wrangling and foot-dragging were swept away in a moment.

After taking pictures, we retire back to the small altar in the sacristy where I help the priests and the deacon consume the reliquiae, that is, the remaining elements of the Holy Sacrament.  St. Andrew's has a tabernacle in the sacristy so that the reliquiae may be stored for later consumption by the sick in the parish.  However, the bishop believes that the parish's current tabernacle is not a fit receptacle and is hoping to get a nicer one at a later date.  In the meantime, the reliquiae are consumed by the clergy.

It was not that many years ago that such a thing would have been unthinkable - Americans and Russians partaking of Holy Communion together in a public Lutheran worship service in Siberia.  Daria Lytkin, the bishop's wife, was so kind as to drop by the sacristy to thank me for the small gift I presented to her through the bishop: a silk scarf decorated with the fleur-de-lis - the symbol of Louisiana and of New Orleans.  She was very gracious, and obviously understood the symbolism.

We make our way to the parish hall for tea.  I found Natasha before she left, and with the help of Father Alexey, presented her with a different design of the fleur-de-lis scarf.  I also presented a small gift to Olga Netaeva - a fleur-de-lis decorated business card case.  I expressed my gratitude once again for Olga's and Natasha's hospitality.  Gifts are an important part of Russian culture, and my gratitude is heartfelt.

Olga thanked me for the sermon.  I asked her if she liked it.  She said that she did.  I replied that this is because Father Alexey mistranslated it.  That got a laugh.  She assured me that he translated it well, and that she enjoyed hearing it twice.

After tea and a light lunch (soup, meat dish), I went up to the lecture hall to hear Father Daniel conclude his treatment of Psalm 23.  Since I was the preacher, I was not on the docket for the rest of the day.  After the lecture, I went back to my room (which is how I now refer to Father Pavel's office...) to rest.  But there is a crowd outside my window.  Deacon Alexey is grilling sausages over a charcoal flame.

The aroma is absolutely divine, and I follow my nose outside.  I enjoy outstanding conversation with Father Pavel and Kevin Walker.  Kevin is in Russia working on some translations from German to Russian.  He is a student here in Russia, and is thus on a student visa.  It complicates things when one is a foreigner.  There is a good crowd outside mingling, eating, and enjoying the picture-perfect weather.

After the meal, Dan, the two Olgas, and I decide to take a walk to the shopping center.  Akademgorodok is really becoming comfortable for me to stroll around in.  There is a brick walkway lined by large anthills.  I am on a mission to buy Grace a birthday present (her birthday is exactly a week away).  I would like to find her a traditional Russian scarf - a gift that is not only a souvenir, but something she will actually use and enjoy.  And since the nights are on the cool side, I'd like to get myself a sweatshirt - hopefully something unusual an Russian.  Dan is interested in buying a map.

Olga Suhinina loves to talk about lingusitics - every manner of grammatical and syntactical minutia.  She does most of the talking, and I enjoy a free lecture in language.  Fascinating stuff, and she has a lot of great insights - delivered with a dry and keen sense of humor.  Here is an article in the SLMS newsletter about Olga and her invaluable work at the seminary in Novosibirsk (see page one).

We drop into the Traveler's Coffee for cappuccinos and latte.  It is lively, and the nice weather has brought out a lot of people.  We are seated in an outdoor covered patio in a roomy and comfortable booth.  The young people all around us look like young people from everywhere - phones, ipods, laptops, etc.  They are dressed in jeans, t-shirts, and carrying backpacks.  Dan and I are told that this is a recent phenomenon here.  Dan asks if it is obvious by our looks and mannerisms that we are Americans, and the Olgas laugh.  And laugh.  And laugh.  I guess it's pretty obvious.

I buy my friends coffee using my Visa card.  We take pictures, exchange stories, and relax.

Post-caffeination, we head to the shopping center.  Olga Suhinina takes charge, directing me from one store to another in search of the object of my quest: a traditional Russian scarf.  I find a beautiful wool scarf, large and just the right shade of mauve.  It is a little on the expensive side, but well-made.  I bring the scarf to the counter and present my Visa - which is declined.  Dan offers that it is probably a safety mechanism since I had just used it at Traveler's.  So I pay in rubles.

The Olgas lead me all over the shopping center in search of my elusive sweater.  I almost buy a nice plain hooded sweatshirt, but it's kind of expensive, and I figure I could buy such a thing back home.  After visiting several stores, I call off the search.  The Olgas find that funny.

The Olgas are a lot of fun to hang out with.  They are quite different from one another in personality - but they get along well and genuinely seem to like each other.  Both are very kind.  At one point, the Olgas were chatting in Russian.  Russians sound (at least to me) to be so emphatic when they speak to one another - at times, almost like they are fighting.  After one such intense conversation, Olga Netaeva turns to me and says matter of factly: "We like you."  Maybe the jury was out until that point!  Somehow, I must have passed muster with the Olgas.

We walk past a street vendor who is selling fruit.  Olga Suhinina asks Dan and me if we have ever had one of the melons on display.  We had not.  It turns out that the fruit comes from Uzbekistan and is known by the name "collective farmer."  Olga insists on buying us one.  She pays and places the large melon in her backpack.  She refuses my offer to carry it for her.  It is about the size of a cantaloupe.  Olga loves to walk, and by this time, we have been strolling for several miles.  Rather than head home (which is close by), Olga wishes to continue walking with us to the seminary, and then walk back again to return home.  Olga Netaeva has to work in the morning, and so she decides not to walk with us back to the sem.

Meanwhile, Dan has just received a text message from Natasha inviting us to a pyrotechnic show in Berdsk this evening at 9:30 pm.  Berdsk is Natasha's hometown just outside Novosibirsk - where she was skating.

Before heading back, Dan would like a beer.  So he and Olga Suhinina go into a grovery store to buy some, while Olga (Netaeva) and I wait at an outdoor table.  They return, and Olga N. says "goodbye" and walks to the bus station.  It starts to rain a bit, and Dan, Olga S., and I start walking to the seminary.

Once there, we head to the little parish hall where we had tea earlier in the day, and Olga brings the melon to the sink and washes it up for us.  She is a very health-conscious and fastidious person.  Olga had scolded me earlier for walking on the grass out of concern that I might be bitten by a tick.  We cut open the collective farmer, and Dan slices it into wedges.  It is very sweet!

Olga takes her leave.  Since it is raining, she reluctantly decides to take the bus.  She really prefers to walk.  Dan and I wait for Natasha to arrive.  She is picking us up to bring us to Berdsk.  She arrives shortly.

We join a good sized crowd on the main square of the park.  There is a stage set up.  The show begins shortly after we arrive.  It is spectacular!  It features music, lasers, and a kind-of dance troupe/circus of fire-spitters and fire-jugglers.  Because of the language barrier, Natasha and I are wielding phrasebooks, and Dan has his cellphone poised to contact Olga Netaeva should the need for a translation arrive.



We have a great time, and Natasha drives us back to the seminary.  Dan and I retire to the bishop's office, and we drink the two beers he had bought.  His is a dark beer, and mine is a lager - Baltika 7.  We wind down by listening to a recording of the British actor Hugh Laurie singing and playing American blues tunes.

Here is a link to all of my pictures of Day Fourteen.

My Siberian Adventure - Day 12 - July 8, 2011

Visit: Novosibirsk

We got up early, and Father Pavel (Khramov) walks with us to the train station.  We will be using different forms of public transportation today and seeing some different sights (as well as familiar ones) in Novosibirsk.  We ride the local train downtown.  We briefly tour the Novosibirsk train station.  There is a humorous plaque on the wall that isn't really meant to be funny.  In an effort to find some connection to Lenin, the train station boasts that it has a desk that Lenin once sat at, and this fact is proclaimed on a bronze plaque.

We visit the Orthodox cathedral of Novosibirsk where services are going on.  We also visit the Roman Catholic cathedral. It is much smaller and simpler.  It is also modernist in design.  There are actually more Lutherans than Roman Catholics in Russia.

We walk to Lenin Square, and again drop by St. Nicholas Chapel, the geographical center of Imperial Russia.  This time, however, there is a service going on.  The space is tiny, and crowded with old ladies with heads covered with scarves bowing and crossing themselves.  To someone used to western-style worship, it appears chaotic.  There is a single priest, magnificently vested, and his assistant conducting the service.  Both are bearded and wear pony tails.  Not more than ten feet away, an elderly woman does a bustling icon business at the counter.

There are a few young women there as well, whose attire is similar to young Muslim women back home in the fact that they modestly cover their heads with a scarf, and yet wear skin-tight jeans and high heels.

We cut through the subway tunnel to cross the street.  It seems that there are always crowds of people hustling and bustling in the underground.  I snap a picture of a shoe shop for Miss Grace.  It's a long way to travel, but it's not easy for her to find nice shoes back home.  I'm able to exchange currency using a very slick modern machine located in a bank.

We take the subway across town.  We visit an upscale souvenir shop, as well as a bookstore that caters to English speakers.  I buy a Russian-English pocket dictionary.

Father Pavel brings us to a local Fork and Spoon (столовая вилка-ложка), a nicer one than the one we ate at earlier in Novokuznetsk.  I have an okroshka (окрошка) - the cold summer soup with sausage pieces, cucumbers, and tomatoes with herbs - such as rosemary.  I also have a piece of pork with "hot sauce" - which was not hot at all.  Tasty though!  Also, potatoes, orange juice, and a chicken blini.  Foodies, please feel free to click here.

There is a coffee bar!

I order lattes and cappuccinos for us.  The prices are good, and the barista knows what she is doing.  On the way out, I buy a Pepsi, which is unusually served soda-fountain style, self-serve in a disposable cup with lid and straw.  As is typical, there is no ice.  Russians don't typically take ice in their drinks (I will have to ask the bishop how this can be synthesized with his statement, "We are Siberians. We like ice."), and so I never saw an ice dispenser or ice machine.

It is a nice day, and we visit the little city park area by the fountain where there are a couple wedding parties and people who seem to be on vacation.  Friday is a big wedding day in Russia - which goes back to Soviet times.  It seems that the Russian Orthodox Church had forbidden Friday weddings, as Friday is a fast day.  The Communists wanted to oppose the Church and her traditions, and so pushed Friday as the "traditional" post-Christian wedding day.  Even now, 20 years after the fall of Communism, it is still a "tradition."

We head back, hang out with the bishop, and get ready for our seminars.  Father Daniel is the first speaker, and lectures from 5:00 - 6:00 pm on Psalm 23 (22 per the Septuagint).  Father Alexey translates.  I speak from 6:00 - 7:00 pm, again on the Augsburg Confession, with Alexey translating.  At 7:00 pm, we break for worship - a combined Vespers and Mass.  The audience is diverse and serious.  They are interested in theology and eager to hear.

The service is beautiful but simple.  Father Alexey is the celebrant and Father Pavel is the preacher.  I follow the service as best I can.  The closing hymn is Luther's Keep Us Steadfast.  They use incense, but there is no chasuble, as this is a combined prayer and Eucharistic service.

Afterward, I meet Father Alexey's wife Elena.  She is very kind and speaks impeccable English.  She invites Dan and me to join their family for dinner before we head to Yekaterinburg on Wednesday.

Shortly thereafter, we meet again with the bishop for a late dinner.  We went to one coffee shop, but chose not to eat there.  We settled on East-West, a trendy but inexpensive restaurant that focuses on Russian diversity.  It is located on the second floor of the shopping center - just above the grocery store.  I enjoy a plate of plav.  The food and conversation are also outstanding here!

Here is a link to all of my pictures of Days Twelve and Thirteen.