The Dangerous Language

I just read a two-volume work on the history of the Esperanto language in the 20th century: A Dangerous Language by Ulrich Lins.  It is in English translation from the original Esperanto.  The work, published in English in separate volumes Under Hitler and Stalin and the Decline of Stalinism is so scholarly and thorough that it reads like a well-written doctoral dissertation.

The two hardcover volumes sell for about $100.  I would never spring that kind of money for such a work, but it was in a catalog of books for which I had a credit for writing a peer review.  It was the only book that looked interesting to me at all.

And it was quite a ride!

The book isn't so much about the Esperanto language as it is about the reaction of the Nazis and Communists to its existence and use by people under their jurisdictions.  It is a window into the mind of the Socialist - whether National Socialists like Hitler and other Fascists, or International Socialists like Stalin and other Communists.  While the Fascists and Communists are often pitted against one another as though they are ideologically opposite, they are really both authoritarian systems that oppose personal and economic liberty.  Both are variants of Marxist Socialism that operate by economic central planning.  And given that Economics is really just the science of human action, to centrally plan "the economy" is really nothing more than planning the lives of people.  

And given that the nature of the human being is to be free and to act on his own personal values, tastes, aspirations, and goals, for a bureaucratic authority to take charge of these most intimate choices of individuals requires a draconian state and a society run by fear.

And this is exactly what happened to the speakers of Esperanto under both of these regimes.

Esperanto is a constructed or planned language.  It was intended to be a second or auxiliary language for everyone, thus eliminating the need for translators between every possible pair of languages.  It was designed from the ground up to be simple (there are only 16 grammatical rules), easily mastered (about a hundred hours of study is needed to become relatively fluent) consistent (there are no exceptions to the rules, and words are pronounced just as they are written), and neutral (it is not a world language based on conquest or colonial rule, but can be spoken by all as equals).  

The author of the language, L.L. Zamenhof, was a Jewish idealist living in a multilingual city in what is today part of Poland.  He went from being a Zionist to denouncing Zionism in favor of a form of universal humanism.  Zamenhof believed in a universal brotherhood of mankind, and even championed a universal religion.  Lins's thoroughly documented narrative regarding Zamenhof's life included details that I had not seen elsewhere regarding his political and spiritual journey.  Of course, though his asperations may have been noble, his thinking was deeply flawed.

Zamenhof invented the language in 1877, translated many great works into Esperanto - including the Old Testament - and he renounced all ownership and control, releasing Esperanto into what is essentially "open source" - allowing the language to grow and evolve while staying true to its rules and basic vocabulary.

As the political situation roiled Europe, a divide broke out between Esperantists: those who believed in political neutrality and the use of the language for practical reasons, vs. those with a Utopian, often Socialist idealism that could not separate the language from Zamenhof's almost cultish vision of humanism and world peace.

This divide often took shape in the form of competing Esperanto associations, even within the same country: the "neutralists" and the "workers" groups.

Lins covers the history of Esperanto's meteoric rise in the early 20th century, and the devastation caused to the language by World War I.  He also covers the interesting period between the two world wars, including in Germany's Weimar Republic, living under the punitive realities of the Treaty of Versailles.  

As Fascism grew in Europe, especially in Germany, Communism continued to take its shape in the newly-founded USSR.  Both the Nazis and the Commies initially saw Esperanto as a tool for spreading ideological propaganda around the world.  And both quickly spoiled on it.  Hitler mentions Esperanto in Mein Kampf, disparaging it as tool for Jewish world domination.  Esperanto was persecuted in Germany and in all of the German-occupied areas.  All three of Zamenhof's children were executed in 1942 in Treblinka.

While Esperantists in the USSR were likewise initially hopeful (the word "Esperanto" means "one who hopes"), the Soviets quickly soured on them as well.  The chapter on Esperanto and Stalin's Great Purge of 1937-38 is depressing reading, as Esperanto speakers across the Soviet Union were rounded up and sent to Gulags or executed.  They were, along with stamp collectors, feared as spies.  

For in spite of the rhetoric about communicating unhampered with "workers" around the world, this is the last thing authoritarian regimes ever want to happen.  Esperanto and its various organizations for speakers were virtually wiped out in Russia and the Eastern bloc.  

The most amazing thing to me is how many Esperantists are today Socialists and Communists.  They continue to hold onto the fantasy of Karl Marx, that following a period of massive state empowerment, control, and re-education, there would come a new Man living in a new Garden of Eden.  How many tens or hundreds of millions of corpses have to be piled up by world Marxism before this Utopia is discredited is beyond me. It is as unthinkable as modern Jews adopting Nazism.  

The only places where Esperanto was actually permitted to flourish into a rich spoken and literary culture, learned, taught, spoken, and published without fear of censorship, repression, or even punishment in death camps - were in the capitalist west.  In time, following the fall of the Berlin Wall, the USSR, and the liberation of Eastern Europe, Esperanto has made a modest comeback.

I'm sure many modern-day Communist Esperanto speakers will argue the usual: Stalin was a dictator, the USSR was not "real Communism," it was actually the fault of the United States, etc.  But the record is clear, and it is not sugarcoated in Lins's book.  It is chilling, and ought to make Esperantists rethink their premises about how much they want to empower the state.

There is no Utopia, but where people are the happiest, where poverty is diminished, where human rights and dignity are most respected is where there is freedom: both personal and economic.  And it is in such free countries, where the right to speak and publish is respected, that Esperanto can actually be a tool for fostering peace and brotherhood among free men.

Sex, Gender, and Language

One of the politically-correct targets of our English language is the inclusive "he."  In other words, if we refer to a person of unknown sex, or when we speak of someone in general, we use the pronoun "he" (or "him" as an object) to describe the person.

This practice is becoming as quaint and dated as the use of "thou" and "thee" as second-person pronouns.

The reason is that this inclusive "he" is seen as exclusive - which is about as Orwellian as one can get.  We are told that using the masculine gender to describe people of either sex is "sexist."  It's evidence of "male privilege," a holdover from the bad old days of "patriarchal hegemony."  Thus it has now become common to change between "he" and "she" even in the same paragraph so as not to offend the language-monitors and thought-police.  Sometimes we are treated to the awkward attempts at gender-neutral pronouns such as "he or she" and "him and her" construction, or even in a yet uglier form: "he/she or him/her" - or even "s/he" and "hir."  Some try to bend over backwards by reversing the order as "she/he" or "she or he."  Sometimes the plural "they" is used as a substitute for the singular "he" or "she."  A tongue-in-cheek contraction for "he or she or it" is "h'or'sh'it."  This is all really much ado about nothing.  The traditional "he" is not only more economical and elegant, it is actually inclusive - as it does not exclude either men or women. Of course, in academic and business writing, one must sometimes be politically-correct for the sake of self-preservation, no matter the inelegance or ugliness.  No doubt entire "doctoral" dissertations in "women's studies departments" have been written on this burning topic.  Perhaps even entire careers as feminist "scholars" have been forged in the fires of such "oppression" by pronoun.  And there are probably consultants whose entire reason for existence is to oversee and advise regarding the use of gender and pronouns.

The problem is: it's all nonsense.

Sex and gender are not interchangeable.

Sex is biological and ontological.  With very few exceptions, the entire animal kingdom - human beings included - are physically differentiated by sex within species.  There are two sexes: male and female.  It is a matter of reproduction.  It is so sophisticated as to be encoded into our chromosomes and our DNA, and yet typically easy enough for a toddler to identify.  Until very recently, there was no controversy over sex-segregated restrooms and locker rooms.  There was no issue in distinguishing wives and husbands, mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, just as people don't get too worked up over mares and stallions, hens and roosters, lions and lionesses.

Even in cases of physical deformity, biological sex is simply a physical attribute of higher-level creatures - even in cases where it isn't so easy to tell just by looking at the reproductive organs.  Again, sex is coded into the genetic material itself.

By contrast, gender is a grammatical term that describes nouns, not actual living things.  Linguistically, there are three genders: masculine, feminine, and neuter.  The word "gender" is etymologically related to the word "genus" - as in a class or category.  Words fall into one of the three categories - what we call "genders."

In English, the neuter gender ("it") is used for inanimate objects.  Overwhelmingly, the masculine gender ("he") is used for people and animals of the male sex, and the feminine gender ("she") for those of the female sex.  Some exceptions include inanimate ships or cars being referred to by the feminine gender, and until recently, it was conventional to refer to inanimate tropical cyclones in the feminine gender, while also naming them with female human names.  The latter became a sore spot for feminists, who agitated successfully to alternate between genders as tropical storms, hurricanes, and typhoons emerge.  This important "cause" of storm gender-equality among dangerous weather phenomena that kill people by the thousands and destroy property in the billions of dollars is about one of the stupidest, most irrelevant things ever pursued by these alleged scholars.

Perhaps some of this sex/gender confusion lies in the fact that in English there is a high correlation between the sexes and genders.  In other languages, this is not the case.  In French, for example, there are only two genders: masculine and feminine.  Men and boys are masculine; girls and women are feminine.  But then there is the gender issue for sexless objects, such as houses (feminine), pens (masculine), shirts (feminine), and bicycles (which, depending on which word is used, is either masculine or feminine).  And so maybe it is easier for speakers of romance languages to separate the concept of sex from gender, and to see the value of having and using two distinct words, one to describe biology ("sex"), and another to describe linguistics ("gender").

German has three genders: masculine, feminine, and neuter.  Like English (which is a Germanic language), the sexes and the genders line up with a high (though not universal) degree of correspondence.  One exception is the German word for "girl" - which is grammatically neuter.  I suppose there are some feminists who might be tempted to argue that this is an attempt to degrade the feminine sex.  In fact, the reason for this word's gender has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with the diminutive ending of the word which is governed by the neuter.  This is completely natural to a native German speaker.  It really isn't the stuff of patriarchal hegemony, male privilege, and the need for empowerment within Teutonic maidenhood.

Interestingly, another Germanic language seems to have eluded the "scholars" of the sacred sisterhood: Swedish.  Unlike English's inclusive "he," Swedish makes use of the words "she" and "her" ("hon" and "henne") in cases in matters of human generality.  This is because the Swedish word for "person" (in general or of unknown sex) is "människa" which is a word of the feminine gender.  Therefore, when speaking of a person in general, traditionally, the grammatically right pronouns are "she" and "her", not "he" and "him" (though in recent decades there has been a movement to compel gender-neutrality in modern Swedish, including the 3rd person pronoun).

But where are all of the "gender studies" experts and feminist historians and literary critics to lambaste traditional, historic Swedish?  Where are the cries of "sexism" and "female privilege" and the bad old days of "matriarchal hegemony" among the descendants of the Vikings?  You don't hear it because it's not there.  "Sex" and "gender" are two different things.  They have made up the entire controversy.  It's absolute balderdash.

Unless you're being compelled, you have the choice to use the words "sex" and "gender" with proper distinction.  There is very good reason that "gender" and "sex" are two distinct vocables in our languages.  And in spite of the fact that someone will inevitably cite dictionary definitions and wax eloquently about how languages evolve, the plain truth is that the notions of biological, ontological "sex" and linguistic "gender" are two distinct concepts that are not interchangeable.  And all the attempts in the world to put square pegs into round holes and to claim that words do not mean what they say notwithstanding, you are free to use words rightly and with precision - even over and against the politically-correct scolds and pseudo-intellectuals who seek to change reality and control thought by changing the way words are used.  In fact, I argue that we have a duty to do so, to resist the nanny-state of human thought and linguistic expression.

If a feminist scholar of ether sex demands that we give up the inclusive "he" or that the words "sex" and "gender" are interchangeable social constructs, he is simply wrong.  He is the one who ought to change his writing style for the sake of intellectual honesty and integrity.  Nothing says we are compelled to obey him or his linguistic agendas.  He would be well-advised to leave the world of feminist fantasy and immerse himself in actual critical thought for his own good, for the sake of the truth, and for the dignity of all of mankind.

The Remarkable Dr. Iris Mack

Dr. Iris Mack grew up in a housing project in New Orleans and has a truly remarkable story.

Even without the obstacles she overcame, just looking at her list of accomplishments is extraordinary and inspiring:

• High school valedictorian
• Double Bachlor's degrees from Vassar in Mathematics and Mathematical Physics
• MS in Mathematics from UCLA (Research Fellow at Bell Laboratories and holder of a patent in fiber optics)
• Ph.D. in Applied Mathematics from Harvard (only the 2nd black woman to earn this doctorate from Harvard).  Dissertation: "Block Implicit One-Step Methods for Solving Smooth and Discontinuous Systems of Differential/Algebraic Equations: Applications to Transient Stability of Electrical Power Systems"   
• Executive MBA from the London Business School
• Investment banker
• Professor at MIT, University of San Francisco, and Clark Atlanta University
• NASA astronaut semifinalist
• Lecturer in London, Paris, and Zurich
• Whistleblower at Enron
• Tangled with two former treasury secretaries of the United States (Rubin and Summers)
• Correctly informed Harvard of the impending disaster facing its endowment because of risky derivatives (they not only didn't listen to her, at the cost of billions of dollars, but also fired her)
• Founder and CEO of Phat Math - a comprehensive approach to mathematical education
• Author of Mama Says "Money Doesn't Grow on Trees!" (available on Kindle for $2.99 here!) and currently writing Energy Trading and Risk Management as part of a multi-book deal with Wiley Publishing House
• She is also into serious weight training, running, and amateur aeronautics
• She currently works as an investment banker in London and speaks Spanish and French

More details here.  Her insights into economics and involvement in political matters can be read here.

And by the way, you may wonder who someone of Dr. Mack's economic insight and real-world experience is endorsing during this presidential election cycle (certainly no tinfoil-hat wearing racist kook, to be sure).  You can read about it here in Dr. Iris Mack's own words.  She believes that he is "the only presidential candidate who understands the current dire straits the economy is in and the only one with a coherent plan to fix things.... the only non-elitist candidate and the only candidate that would put the country back on the road to liberty."  Pretty high praise coming from someone of her caliber!

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 20 - July 16, 2011

Visit: Yekaterinburg

Father Daniel and I slept in a bit and went to the hotel's breakfast.  It was a very western buffet meal that included sausage, rice, cream of wheat (which looked not unlike grits and jambalaya), also bread and a hard-boiled egg.  I also had a coffee with milk.  There is a TV on in the dining room which has what seems to be a 24-hour news channel tuned on.

Father Sergey picked us up and drove us the short distance to the church.

We met several people - including Deacon Victor Shtraube (from Chelyabinsk) and his expecting wife!  I spoke with a young layman about 25-years old or so.  He speaks English though not fluently.  His name is Vadim, and he lives in Siberia in the city of Kurgan between Yekaterinburg and Omsk.

He's a member of Father Sergey's parish (Sts. Peter and Paul) and has a 6-hour bus commute to attend church on Sunday.  His parents are atheists, though his grandmother was Russian Orthodox.  He had been baptized in the Russian Orthodox Church, but was never able to understand the liturgy because of the language barrier (Russian Orthodox liturgies are not conducted in Russian, but rather in Old Slavonic).  He stumbled upon a children's Bible, and that set him on the course to become a Lutheran.

I have a cup of tea.  Father Sergey shows up with a half-liter bottle of Mountain Dew for me.  My Russian brothers are sensitive to my caffeine addiction, and they genuinely care about my comfort.

We have a brief prayer service along the lines of Daily Prayer according to our Lutheran Service Book (LSB) hymnal.  Father Sergey is dignified as he leads prayer.  I'm seated in one of the small pews next to an older woman wearing a head scarf.

I believe my friend Vladimir (see page one of this Siberian Lutheran Mission Society newsletter, "A Lutheran Soul") - who speaks very good French - has arrived.  Father Daniel has begun his lecture.  We will have two hours each today.

After an hour, we take a break.  I met Vladimir, and gave him a small gift: a fridge magnet from New Orleans which has some French on it.  I explain to him that le français est une langue officielle d'état de la Louisiane, et il y a beaucoup de personnes qui parle français dans notre état (French is an official language of the State of Louisiana, and there are many people who speak French in our state).  We chat back and forth in French, as I am certain that I've butched the language.  I am, however, amazed at how much I am able to understand as Vladimir speaks, though my own spoken French is terribly rusty.  I think being immersed in a non-English environment has stimulated the linguistic part of my brain (then again, maybe it was the Mountain Dew...).  Vladimir is quite fluent and enjoys speaking French as much as I enjoy hearing it.

In fact, it feels good - liberating, actually, to be able to speak in another lingua franca of the world, to be enjoying conversation with Vladmir in a language that is native to neither one of us, with neither one of us relying on a translator.  As we chat, we are speaking with more rapidity.  It's a great encouragement to grow in understanding and fluency in multiple languages.

After Dan concludes his lecture, we speak to the lady sitting next to me (our translator, as I will learn later, is Evgeny, a young guy who has only been speaking English for about a year and a half).  Her grandfather was a Lutheran pastor who was executed by Stalin.  He had served in the Volga region.  As a young woman, she wished to go to medical school, but was not permitted to study because her grandfather had been condemned as an "enemy of the state."  She was mocked as a student because of her Christian faith, which she retained even after all that her family had suffered.  I asked her to write her name for me, and she wrote in my little notebook "Альвина" - the letters of which I could not read very well in their cursive form.  Father Alexey later rendered this into Latin letters for me as "Alvina."  She is more commonly known by the diminutive form "Ала" ("Ala").  The German form of her name is "Albina" - and although I did not make the connection at the time, the Siberian Lutheran Mission Society had run a fascinating three part article telling Albina's story - which you can read here: Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3.

It was a great honor to have my picture taken with Albina.

Father Alexey gives his lecture on Romans.  We break for lunch, and a large group of us walks over to the Cafe Dadazh (where we went yesterday) - where we have a very typical Russian "business lunch" with a bit of Asian influence, consisting of salad, soup, and a main dish of chicken and rice.  We also drink a peach soda - shared by the four of us at our table - served in very small glasses - and we finish with tea.  The salad is dry (in a good way).  No glop.  The soup has some kind of seafood or fish in it.  It reminds me of New Orleans.  I'm seated with Father Alexey, Vladimir, Vadim, and another young guy named Evgeny (who previously served as my impromptu translator in my chat with Albina).  It turns out that he is a 4th year Orthodox seminarian.

After lunch, Father Alexey concludes his lecture.

I begin my Augsburg Confession lecture at about 4:00 pm and go on until about 6:00 with a break after about an hour.  My listeners seem engaged - especially Evgeny.  I cover the history part and I get through Article 8.

When I field questions, one attendee raised the question of the validity of a baptism conducted by a woman "pastor."  I answered that my pastoral practice is to treat such "baptisms" as outside the church.  One ELKRAS attendee (ELKRAS is the German missionary denomination in Russia, a more liberal body that "ordains" women), a young pastor named Dennis, became quite agitated.  I calmly confessed what I believe and what my pastoral practice is.

I was a little concerned, not wanting to offend my hosts, but Father Alexey assured me that my answer is actually the same answer as the position of the SELC.  To make things more interesting, we will be traveling to Dennis's congregation to speak to them on Tuesday evening.

Afterward, Fathers Alexey and Sergey take Dan and me to McDonald's.  It looks similar to its American cousin, only with Cyrillic letters.  Russia has similar language laws as Quebec, and this regulates the amount of English that can be used on signage.  I don't know how Traveler's Coffee gets around this.  The McDonald's sign looks like this: Макдоналдс - a direct transliteration.  I order the equivalent of a Quarter Pounder, known is Russia as a Royal Cheeseburger (Роял Чизбургер).  In Russia, you have to pay extra for condiments.  Dan and I both order "large" drinks.  The clerk says something in response to Father Alexey, who looks at me gravely and says: "Uh, Father Larry, he says that the large drink is a liter."  Of course, this is considerably smaller than the large in the U.S. (which explains why Americans are considerably larger than Russians).  Father Daniel and I, unfazed by the liter, laugh and confirm our order with Alexey.  Also, there are no ice in the drinks.  I never saw an ice machine in my time in Russia.  I also believe one of the staff was scolding me for taking pictures.

The four of us (Dan, Alexey, Sergey, and I) go outside to eat under one of the red and yellow umbrellas.

Next, we make an excursion to the "Alcohol Supermarket" subtitled: "Magnum" where Dan shops for cognac - which is of very high quality and considerably cheaper than in the states.  He has promised to bring back a bottle for a fellow pastor back home.

Afterward, our Russian brothers drop us off back at the hotel.

Dan would like to buy another bottle of Armenian cognac (Ararat brand), and I need some batteries.  We stroll around, find a supermarket, make ou purchases using a combination of gestures and pidgin Russian.  The clerks are helpful and friendly.  Dan buys a bottle of Ararat, and I purchase a small bottle of "Мохито" (mojito).  Dan forgets to buy himself a beer, and the store has no AA batteries.

We walk back.

We see a funny sight: a drunken man carrying a bottle in one hand, and in the other hand he holds a cellphone to his ear.  Paying no attention to his surroundings, he crosses the busy highway, chatting and swaying between the zooming cars.  It looks staged.  The traffic doesn't even slow down.  He staggers at a steady pace completely absorbed in his phone call.  Somehow, he arrives untouched at the other side without missing a beat, talking in his cell the entire time.

We visit a little kiosk where a customer can bring an empty beer bottle and the clerk will fill it with any beer that they have on tap, charging by the amount.

It's now well after ten, but the sky is still bright.  We stroll back to the hotel.  I enjoy an extended chat with Grace and upload pictures.  Our room in the Atlantic Hotel has a large and deep bathtub, so I indulge in a steaming hot bath.  My knees get sore sometimes, so the soak feels very good.

Photo: http://www.rushotels.com/hotel/1126

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

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.

Need a Vulgate?

Just in case any FH readers need a Vulgate (Clementine Edition) in pdf form, your wait is over! Here it is.  And here is the same text in two column format that saves a lot of pages.  And here is a link to have it professionally printed and shipped to you.

This is courtesy of Michael Tweedale and the fine folks at Vulsearch, which has links to many helpful tools (all free!) and formats to read the Holy Bible in Latin.

One of Many Ways to Learn

One of the nice things about home school is the flexibility - regarding both time and curriculum.  It's 7:30 pm, and we're doing Greek, Latin, and Catechism while eating ice cream, cracking jokes, and shooting video.  It is our second day of first grade, and Leo is loving it!  We get lots of quality time together as a family (he and I walked to the store this evening hand-in-hand singing the Greek alphabet).  We have a lot of field trips to Bayou Segnette planned - things like bird watching, looking for frogs, and canoeing.  And even in the "classroom" he doesn't have to sit still (I have no doubt that his incessant wiggling would be driving a classroom teacher insane after 20 minutes - not to mention the other kids).

I'm really impressed with Song School Latin and Song School Greek by Classical Academic Press.  The songs on the CD are simple and yet catchy and pedagogically effective.  Similarly, I'm using CPH's "Sing the Faith," which is the Small Catechism set to music especially suited to children.

Mrs. H. is doing the heavy lifting during the day, teaching Math, Reading, Writing, Spelling, Grammar, Science, History, and Geography.  Leo and Grace are also learning piano together.  Music Appreciation and French are around the corner.  And anything Mrs. H. and I happen to be studying gets into his system as well.

My Siberian Adventure - Day 10 - July 6, 2011

Begin: On the train toward Novosibirsk
Visit: Novosibirsk

It was a nice relaxing ride from Shira to Novosibirsk.  It was an overnight trip.  I wake up in the morning to the rocking of the train.


Father Alexey bought us breakfast in the dining car.  It is attractive with red trim, tablecloths, and fine silverware.  The menu is bilingual (Russian and English).  I had some sausages with mustard and a (real) coffee.  We also had pancakes (blini) and I ordered the cherry-filled one.  They are basically the same thing as crepes.  They are as good as they look!

After breakfast, we took it easy in the sleeper car for the rest of the trip.

We arrived at Novosibirsk in the afternoon.  It is rainy and chilly.  Father Andrei picked us up and we decided to have some American food.  We have a choice between burgers at Carl's Junior (which is ironic because we don't have Carl's or its sister franchise Hardee's, in Louisiana) or pizza at a place called Capriccio's.  We settle on the latter option, and aside from the Russian language, it could easily be mistaken for a college hangout in Kent, Ohio.  The menu is huge - like a book.  It is also all in Russian.

We order three pizzas - including one that has salmon.  They are all outstanding!  They are baked in a brick oven, and could compete with any pizza shop in the States.  They also have beer.  I have an Amadeus lager and Father Dan opts for a dark beer.  As our Russian brethren are our drivers, they stick with coffee and orange juice.  We enjoy our meal and fraternal conversation and take a few pictures.

We get back, get caught up on our computers, and do laundry.

Father Pavel (Khramov) - whose office I am occupying - takes us for a walk to the local grocery store.  I buy batteries, some tea, and a Coke.  Dan buys some cheese, milk, and cereal.

We return, hang out with the bishop for a while, and call it an evening.

Here is a link to all of my pictures from Day Ten.

My Siberian Adventure - Day 3 - June 29, 2011

Begin: Flying toward Moscow
Land in: Moscow, Russia (Domodedovo Airport)
Fly to: Novosibirsk, Russia (Tolmachevo Airport)
Drive to: Novosibirsk, Russia (The Lutheran Center)

At this point in space and time, the time zones blur along with the thin line that separates night and day.  I managed to steal a few brief naps contorted in a seat barely big enough to contain my frame.  It is morning as we approach Moscow - but my system has no clue what time it is.  The light is shining through the windows, however, and we are served a breakfast consisting of non-fat blueberry yogurt and a small cherry croissant.  I enjoy my little cup of coffee.

Elena has offered to look after me in Moscow.  I dug out Dan's instructions and went over them with her.  She confirmed that this is indeed the basic protocol, and assured me that she will make sure I get where I need to be.  We landed and began to deplane at Domodedovo.  I'm amazed to be in Moscow.  There is enough English signage not to be totally lost, but it is disorienting to be surrounded by the Russian language, written and spoken, almost exclusively.  Domodedovo is a formidable, busy, bustling, cosmopolitan place.  We were funneled into Passport Control, and we were separated there.  Elena motioned to me that she would wait for me and meet me after my interview.

I was called into the booth.  Unlike my many trips through Canadian and American Customs, I was not asked any questions.  I handed over my passport (with the visa attached).  I was handed a paper.  A green light on the gate lit up, the gate opened, and I went through.  The gate opened into the baggage area.  As promised, Elena was waiting for me.  She was happy and very encouraging.  She was excited to be back in Russia and looking forward to visiting her family.

It was strange that I did not know anyone here - except for Elena whom I had met only a few hours ago.  My traveling companion, Dan, was 1,750 miles away - and I have never actually met him.  Other than Dan (and Elena) I have never spoken with anyone in Russia - not counting the S7 agents I talked to.  I'm not worried, but it is a great feeling of loneliness to be so far from friends, culturally isolated, and unable to communicate.  Life as I knew it was thousands of miles and an ocean away.  I was really grateful to have Elena there!

We waited at the carousel, and she was very happy to see her bag.  She patiently waited with me as I waited for mine.  I waited so long I began to really believe it was lost.  But at last, there it was!  Elena led the way through a doorway.  I went to pass my bags through the x-ray machine, but Elena waved me through.  Nobody said anything.

Now my challenge was to find out if I had a ticket to Novosibirsk.  I headed to an S7 cashier, who in turn sent me to check-in.  The clerks have a habit of looking busy and ignoring you.  You have to basically walk up to them and engage them, or else they will ignore you and other people will walk past you to speak to the clerks.

I went to check-in, and the clerk was on the phone several times.  She spoke little English.  She sent me to the ticket counter.  Elena - still watching over me - assured me that they speak English at the ticket counter, and she headed off to currency exchange.

It turns out that the clerk did not speak English, nor did her colleague.  I managed to convey what I needed with gestures and paperwork.  I paid to change the itinerary - about $27,500 rubles - about $100.  I paid using my new Visa card, which did not seem to work.  After trying to scan the card two or three times, she left.  That is a sick feeling.  But after a while, she returned with a ticket.

I went back to the S7 check-in area, and Elena has returned, still watching over me.  She has already checked in.  This time, having a ticket in hand, I check my bag and am all set to go to Novosibirsk!

Elena wanted to eat, and insisted on paying.  I would have insisted on paying  (the very least I could do!), but only cash is accepted and I have no rubles.  The only restaurant in the area is Sbarro (spelled Сбарро).  Elena is ordering pizza, but is highly annoyed that the clerk is trying to do a "bait and switch."  She spoke angrily to the clerk, and then explained to me that this is common in Russia.  It seems to be a pet peeve of hers.  Food is already extraordinarily expensive in Moscow - as I was to learn three weeks later.  Meanwhile, we found a kiosk that sold chips and soft drinks.  Again, I offered to exchange some currency and pay - but Elena discouraged me from exchanging currency at the airport - especially on the first floor, as the exchange rate was not good.  She insisted on paying.  I had something that we should have in New Orleans, but don't: Lay's crab potato chips (spelled: краб) and a diet Pepsi.  We sat and ate.  I got more of my crash-course in Russian culture.

We went for a stroll.  You can tell that there is a transition going on with things becoming more westernized.  Technology is changing, but the attitudes of the people are slower to change.  Being a Russian who lives in the States, Elena's perspective is very interesting - especially considering that she was too young at the time of the Soviet implosion to remember Communism.  She is part of the post-Communist generation of Russians.

It was time to head toward our gates and go through security - which was very efficient.  Little blue plastic baggies are provided to place over your feet so that you don't have to walk around in your socks.  There is a "naked scanner," and there is no "opt out."  Elena went through the line a few people before me, and waited patiently for me as I gathered all of my stuff.  I was trying to hurry, but she told me to take my time.  She is set to leave about an hour before I am, so we head to her gate.  She let me use her cell phone to call the bishop.  I let him know that I was in Moscow, and, God willing, will soon be en route to Novosibirsk.  He assures me that he will be at the airport to pick me up just after midnight.

Elena is returning to Dulles Airport by the same flight on July 19.  I am returning on July 20.  We sat and chatted for a while longer, exchanged e-mail addresses, and took a couple pictures.  She was a real Godsend!  I thanked her for her kindness and asked if I could give her a blessing (she is a practicing Russian Orthodox Christian).  She is happy for me to pray for her.  Against the advice I received to blend in, I stood in a crowded Moscow airport, said a prayer, and traced the sign of the cross on her forehead.  Were this 30 years ago, I might have been arrested.  We said goodbye and she boarded.

I was now entirely on my own, but thanks to Elena, my level of comfort and confidence has increased.  I head to my own gate, and had time to send e-mail and a couple SnapYap messages to Grace and my dad.  My gate changed, and so I had to move.  It was no problem.  The information boards alternate between Latin and Cyrillic letters.  And in this airport, everything is subject to change at the last minute.  You just have to roll with it.  No problem!

At the gate, we were shuttled to the plane, a Globus Boeing 737-800 decked out in the trademarked garish green and red of S7 Airlines.

We took off only a few minutes behind schedule.

So far, this S7 flight was the most pleasant of all.  We are served juice (I seem to have had some kind of apple-grape blend, judging by the picture on the box) followed by a meal in a box.  It included a hot meat dish in a separate tin with a foil top.  I had chicken and pasta.  It was really very good!  The box had an empty little cup, two pieces of bread, some meats, cheeses, real butter, sugar, mustard, and a small dessert tart.  I kind of looked around to figure out how all this worked.  The quality of the food was way better than U.S. airline food.

I found out what the little cup was for.  We were offered a choice of tea (with an optional slice of lemon and/or milk) or coffee.  I had coffee.  It is a very rich blend, strong, and almost chocolaty.  It is "Jacobs."  I later learn that it is instant coffee - but it had so much milk in it, I couldn't really tell.

The staff spoke and understood English - though not with conversational fluency - I don't think so anyway.  They were friendly and professional - which I have been told is not always the case in post-Communist Russia.

Our arrival at Novosibirk's Tolmachevo Airport was delightfully uneventful, about 1:00 am local time (which, by the way, is 1:00 pm New Orleans time).  I got my baggage and waved to the bishop through the glass.  He was dressed in black clericals.  My bag arrived okay - though I noticed that it seemed a little wet on the outside.

I was greeted warmly by the bishop, and a stern-looking tall guy said nothing but took my bags.  We walked to the car.  I asked the other guy his name, and he said, in a strong Russian accent: "Ivan."  I asked the bishop if Dan were at the seminary.  Ivan and the bishop looked at each other.  "Maybe you should tell him about Father Daniel," said the bishop ominously.  Ivan started grinning.  "So you're Dan," I said to "Ivan" and shook his hand.  Dan had done a very convincing Russian accent.  He and the bishop had been conspiring to bribe the bag-check guard into arresting me as a joke, but they changed their minds.  Rascals.

The bishop drives a small Japanese import Toyota with the wheel on the right side - even though Russians drive on the right side of the road as we do.

He and Dan gave me the whirlwind tour between the airport, downtown Novosibirsk, and the seminary (i.e. the Lutheran Center).  It was a rather long drive.  We also talked about plans for sightseeing.  Novosibirsk was a jewel in the Communist crown - lots of monuments, etc.  A theater in the main square used to be a building set up for "political demonstrations" - which meant only pro-government rallies by the Party.  Non-Communists had to stay out in the cold.

I was put up in a cozy office (Father Pavel's study) on a cot.  They bought a new mattress for me (and a writing easel) from IKEA.  Dan is set up in the bishop's study on a futon.  I was given a brief tour of the building and keys to my room and to the shower.

This is the time of year when there is no hot water (which is public).  So the seminary has a little auxiliary water heater that does the job.  I discover, to my dismay, that my camera is missing - but I know that I had it in the bishop's car.  It is likely still there.  Hope so!

I went to bed.  My system is still trying to make sense of the time change.

Here are all my pictures from Day Three.

My Siberian Adventure - Day 2 - June 28, 2011

Begin: Leesburg, Virginia (Landsdowne Resort)
Drive to: Washington, DC (Dulles)
Fly toward: Moscow, Russia


I woke up in the hotel, hastily got ready, and went downstairs to meet up with Herbert and Klaus.


Klaus was not there, so Herbert and I met at the hotel restaurant for a buffet breakfast.  He and I had a pleasant chat about family, hometowns, work, language, and travel plans.  The food was very good and the service was professional.  Afterwards we went outside and found Klaus ready for our planned walk.

Now, when they invited me for a "walk," I figured we were looking at a half-hour stroll around the hotel followed by a beer - or something of that nature.  I think my European friends meant something different.  We started walking toward the river - which was the Potomac River.  As we walked down the paved trail, golf carts zoomed past.  A stern man on one of the carts - some kind of official - scolded us and told us we were not allowed to be there.  It was only for golfers.  My German friend dubbed him "The Marshall."  We asked him where the walking trail was, and he pointed us in the right direction.  He must have felt a little sorry for us, so he invited us to hop in the golf cart for a ride to the trail.  The Marshall ordered Klaus to put on his shoes (which were actually flip-flops which he had doffed) before climbing on the back of the cart.  As we sped past the hotel's impeccably manicured garden, my new friends chatted amiably in German.


The Marshall dropped us off about a half mile from the hotel on a gravel path at the edge of the woods.  Klaus then ditched the flip-flops and walked barefooted along the gravel.


The view emerged from behind the trees - the winding majestic river with jutting rocks connecting it to the craggy shore.  We ambled up the boulders and made our way to the river.  The sun was beating down on us.  Klaus rolled up his jeans and waded into the river.  Both pulled off their shirts, though were very modest about putting them back on when other people were walking around.

We soaked up the rays and chatted.


After lazing around for a while, we headed toward the trail which was marked by paint marks on the trees.  It was a typical nature trail, shady and leafy, birds chattering happily away.  


We continued our chat, though sometimes we just silently marched along. It was an interesting trail, with some small bridges, and little streams to cross, and some fallen trees with pathways cut into them to allow travelers to pass.  We kept up a swift pace - often led by the barefoot Klaus - who continued to scorn shoes regardless of the terrain: gravel, grass, leaves, rocks, water, concrete, or blacktop.

The winding river was on our right, and the golf course was on our left.  At one point, deep in the woods, I began to wonder if this were such a wise idea.  These guys could have been friends who lured me into the woods to rob me.  I suppressed this irrational thought, and continued the hike.

We eventually emerged in the middle of a wealthy subdivision: three casually-dressed middle-aged guys, one toting a backpack, another without shoes - strolling awkwardly along the McMansions.  We were kind of lost, and asked a young guy for directions to the hotel.  He did not seem to understand what hotel we meant, and his advice did not seem right.  His counsel was at odds with the instincts of our shoeless German officer.  Herbert and I trusted Klaus's opinion, and were rewarded by finding ourselves once again on the edge of the golf course, and soon made visual contact with the hotel.  We even saw the Marshall, still manning the golfcart and surveying his domain.  We ducked behind some trees hoping not to get in trouble for once more walking along the golf trail.


Our two hour hike concluded with a hefty incline.  We rewarded our efforts with soft drinks by the pool.


The guys went back to their rooms to shower.  I had a SnapYap session with Grace and Leo.  I headed downstairs to hang out with the guys and had some coffee.  Klaus reclined comfortably, barefoot in the overstuffed chair in the lobby.  Herbert later joined us, as did a fellow refugee, a college student from New Orleans named Sarah - whose father is a Loyola law professor who is teaching in Vienna.  


We all rode the shuttle together back to the United terminal.  We said goodbye and exchanged contact info.  I went to the line, to be moved to another line, directed to still another, and then one more.  Time began to get short.  I asked for an agent.  He initially told me point blank that I would miss my flight.  I protested that I had arrived two hours early - and he pulled me out of line to get attention from another agent.  My passport would not work in the self-serve kiosk.  I had to find another agent in this seething mass of international travelers, a chaotic mob speaking every imaginable language: men in turbans, women in Islamic garb, Africans, Asians, with a few Americans here and there.  With my plane set to leave in an hour, I still had no ticket and had yet to go through security.  My checked bag had already been checked the day before, and was presumably going to go with me to Moscow.


To complicate matters, the agent informed me that I was not booked on this flight (even though my paperwork said that I was) - but rather had been booked on a different flight to Frankfort with a Lufthansa connection to Moscow.  I begin to get the sinking feeling that I was headed back to the Landsdowne for another night while my bag would be on a whirlwind tour of Europe.  However, the agent somehow ironed things out.  I now had a boarding pass and my plane was actually boarding right at that moment.  I ran through the airport, got to the TSA line, and hurriedly dumped my things into the gray plastic tray.  The TSA agent told me that I had not done things correctly.  I managed to get over this obstacle, hurried through the metal detector, and ran to my gate - which was actually a shuttle to get to the gate itself.


I finally made it to the gate, which was swamped by young people in identical t-shirts boarding the plane.  I could not believe that I was actually boarding.  I was one of the very last to board.  A lady put some kind of a probe in my carry-on, took a reading, and motioned me aboard.  I am in Economy class on the B767.  My carry-on does not fit under the seat in front of me - my shoes and jacket barely do.


The flight is scheduled for 10 hours.  I have my Palm in my pocket (with several Bible versions) as well as my Moleskine to journal into.  I have the list of readings that I need to prepare my sermon.  I also have a pen.  I can barely fit in the seat - the middle of the middle - squished between two other people.  My carry-on is in the overhead bin.  The plane is packed to the gills.  Nevertheless, I try not to complain.  It could be worse.  Also, think of the miracle of human flight.  Like the comedian said: "You're sitting in a chair in the sky!"  


I listen to the bilingual announcements, and the Russian seems to be spoken very fast.  The spoken Russian sounds like the way New Yorkers speak English.  


I have instructions from Dan which he had previously phoned in to me from Novosibirsk - as he arrived on time.  Since Dan will not be there to guide me through the process, he explained all the procedures that I will need to do upon arrival, beginning with Passport Control.  It's quite a lot to keep in mind - which explains why the original plan was that we travel together.  This is going to be an adventure - especially since I don't speak Russian, and also considering that I still don;t know for sure if I have a plane ticket from Moscow to Novosibirsk.


The take-off is inexplicably delayed, but we finally begin our taxi down the runway, only to be recalled back because of a "hydraulics problem."  Another mechanical delay!  Neptune is grinning somewhere.  While grounded, I was able to call Grace and Leo and ask them to send my dad a message (as I was unable to get a phone call to complete back at the terminal).  


We were informed that the problem was only an indicator.  They expected a technician to cut a wire, and we would be up in ten minutes.  When the announcement was repeated in Russian, a lot of the Russians on the plane were laughing.  Way more than ten minutes elapsed.  Then we were told that we could not leave until the paperwork was completed.  One of my neighbors, a young Russian woman named Elena, exclaimed: "Bureaucrats!  Why can't they do that later?"  


It turns out that Elena was on her third flight of the day.  She is also flying on S7 out of Moscow and has offered to help me out at Domodedova Airport.  Finally, we have been cleared to go, and now we are once again grounded due to lightning.  Perhaps Zeus is now conspiring with Neptune.  And so we wait some more.  People unbuckle themselves and walk around the plane, chat on cellphones, and lounge about.  


After a two hour delay, we finally get into the air.  My seatmate Elena has an interesting story.  She is 23-years old, will be celebrating her birthday in Russia with her parents, has been married to an American farmer for six months, and thus lives in the U.S.  She speaks very good English, and is a city girl adapting to rural life in a foreign country.  She and her husband met online, and met for the first time in person in Germany.  She has traveled internationally quite a bit, and speaks German.  She is headed to her childhood home of Astrakhan - her first visit since the wedding.  I told her I was headed to Novosibirsk, and she explained that she was born and grew up there, as her parents studied there.


We are both skeptical that our baggage will make it to Domodedova.  For all I know, my bag may already be in Frankfurt.  The long wait has made us hungry.  Once again, the bags of trail mix came to the rescue.  I'm able to share with my neighbors.


Elena was in a chatty mood, and happily spoke about Russia, Siberia, and cultural differences.  She spoke about the Russian language, and gave me tips for dealing with the airport.  She was very helpful and graciously fielded questions from me.


The plane has a small interactive map in the headrests in front of each passenger showing where we are, along with our airspeed, altitude, temperature outside, and estimated remaining time in the trip.  The flight is routed just off the coast of Greenland, over Iceland, near Britain, over Scandinavia, and from there to Russia.  It is a 10-hour flight that became a 12-hour flight due to the delays.

Sleeping was next to impossible.  I tossed and turned in my cramped quarters.  Also, the students onboard were noisy.  Eventually, we did get a decent meal: ravioli and cheese.  By the time the plane was over Iceland, it was becoming daylight again.  It was disorienting.  Sleep was a series of shallow and brief naps.  The map could be changed into a little TV screen with movies and TV shows - but my headphones did not work.  I just did my best to doze.  


Here are all of my pictures from Day Two.