Before I get into that an update on todays happenings. I've been out of the house for nearly 12 hours now, doing various things in the city. I've had class, and I've taught class. But nothing particularly spectacular. Until just a few moments ago when a strange man approached me and said "Are you Jordan?" Turns out I was, and he recognized my picture from the school where I teach. He introduced himself as Stan, an American Mormo from Provo, Utah. He was kind, and we talked for a few moments. Hopefully we'll meet again at the school.
I'll be home in a few short days. Today it's 20 days until my return. I miss everyone. But I will miss the baffeling complexity that is Russia. I'll miss the friends that I've made and the life that I've forged alone here. There are no words, but let me give it a try.
Most of my early arrival remains a blur. Forging my way through passport control and customs to find myself a bit lost and alone in a western sprawl of grey concrete somewhere, all I knew, far from home. After meeting Anatoly and traveling with my 200 or so pounds of luggage, I finally collapsed into a 10 hour sleep aboard my first Russian train.
I stepped off of the train into the cold pre-dawn light at around 5:45 in the morning. This was my first real perception of Russia. The peeling yellow paint of the station fading against the swirling dust reminded me of an old western. I followed Anatoly across the tracks and through the station, out into the courtyard of the city.
Suddenly, I awoke from my jet-lag induced stupor. As I stumbed with my luggage the little life of early morning Voronezh struck me forcefully. Cab drivers approached and spoke words I never dreamed of understanding. Kiosks lined the courtyard selling mostly cigarettes and beer. A pack of stray dogs fought over a pile of smoldering rubbish, casting a soft glow and little warmth upon a scruffy passed-out man.
Anatoly and I made our way towards the center of the city, across shattered sidewalks and broken windows. The city was dead. The only sound the occasional cough from an alleyway and the whistling of the northern wind. Struggling under the weight of my western survival gear I arrived at 15 Plehonovskaya, my fortress for the next few months. It was an arduous trek up 5 flights of stairs with my luggage, but a warm family greeted me at the top.
Golina Nicolaevna and Nicoklai Famich were very pleased to see me. They helped me get my things inside the house and handed me a blanket and pillow. Swiftly lying down upon the couch that was in my room, I thought "I've arrived. What will you show me Russia? What do you have to teach me?" It took many days to be willing to even look for the answer...
I'll continue another time. I hope all is well in the states, and I'll see you soon.
~J