I left Silver Spring, our house, my church and the United
States on September 10th, arrived in Moscow September 11th, and Vladivostok on September 14th. Though there was a
definite excitement in anticipating a new life in a new country, it wasn’t easy
walking away from people and activities I loved. I made the decision to soak up my
last experiences as I lived them, rather than mourning the impending loss.
Mindfulness played a huge role as I walked (or ran)
through Wheaton Regional Park the last few times. I’ll miss these woods, I thought. I’ll miss the birds. Wheaton Regional Park had lots of woodpeckers,
cardinals, blue jays, some goldfinches. So far all we’ve seen (and heard) in
Vladivostok are pigeons, robins and magpies.
The most dramatic last experience I had was with my choir. We flew to Bristol, England to sing a week of Evensong services at the Cathedral. Instead of hanging out with the usual suspects, I chose someone different to be with for each meal and each excursion. I didn’t get to say a formal goodbye to everyone, but our time together touring, rehearsing and leading and participating in worship made up for it.
An added benefit of the England trip was meeting up with two good friends I meet in Munich. We enjoyed a few days together walking the cliffs and beaches of North Cornwall. I love relationships that pick up right where they left off after months or years.
Detachment also played a role as I
resisted carrying plastic bags with me to pick up littered recyclables every
time I got out and walked. That’s your
problem now, Silver Spring, I thought as I walked passed the filth.
Vladivostok isn’t as littered as Silver Spring. Don’t take that the wrong way;
people litter here, but there are street keepers who regularly pick it up so we
don’t have to walk through and around it.
I squeezed in one more trip to Phoenix to see my parents.
My last trip before moving to Russia was supposed to be back in the spring, but
their circumstances had changed and I wanted to see them again. It’s hard
leaving them in so much need. They have some good people around them, but they
don’t have me and I don’t have them. Thank God for Skype, when it works. I
think of my grandmother who, from the age of seventy or so would say, Well, you may never see me again. She
lived to be a hundred and two. I’ve been worrying about and bracing myself for losing Mom and
Dad since I first left for Tashkent back in 2010. They are a couple of
Energizer bunnies.
Vladivostok is my first home on the coast. I’ve long
dreamed of living near the ocean. We can see the bay (and splendid sunsets)
from our townhouse. When Douglas first joined the Foreign Service, I wanted to
live on the coast - any coast. Our first post was in Tashkent, Uzbekistan – one
of only two double land-locked countries. Now I’m living my dream. It’s a port
city, but there are islands and preserves in the area. I hope I’ll get out and explore and make the most of living here.
Soon after arriving in Vladivostok, Douglas and I both had a first: we ran (and walked) in our
first 5K. It was the tail end of a marathon and took place on the first rainy
day here. That may have kept us holed up in the hotel, but no –
we got up, pinned on our numbers, walked to a nearby square where we pushed our
way through the hordes onto the shuttle bus and waited under a canvas tent in
the rain for an hour and a half to line up. This was the one chance (per year)
we’d have to cross the famous suspension bridge on foot. It wasn’t a great day
for photography from the bridge, but we snapped a few anyway. It was
exhilarating to be cheered on at the finish line. We heard the Russian version of
“Good job!” and “We’re proud of you!” We were even given medals!
Before. Everyone is lining up for the race.
During. Bad picture, I know. I used my i Phone and it's having problems.
Another bad picture. We were told not to stop on the bridge, but I really wanted a picture. There are no after pictures, I thought I'd spare you.
I was told that my Russian teacher didn't speak much English. I’ve heard of people leaning languages by
watching television. How, exactly? It turns out that she speaks quite a bit, thank God, but she doesn't like to when teaching. We're compromising. I’m rallying some faith, faith in myself, my
teacher and nature. We all learned our first language by immersion with no
translations.
Another first for me is living in a four-story townhouse.
It’s not as huge as it may sound, it’s tall. There are two or three rooms
on each floor. I told people before we moved that it would be like living in a
lighthouse! The steps aren’t as steep as a lighthouse, but they are
interesting. They aren’t uniform. The first step is steep, while the rest are
rather shallow. It’s shocking to come plunging down the steps, fall into a
rhythm, then be surprised with the extra couple-inch drop at the end. (Or, on the way up, trip on the top step because it's two inches higher than all the rest.) And they aren't square with each other. It looks a bit like the crooked house that the crooked little man built. We
decided to have color put on the wall instead of living in institutional
off-white for three years. I saw my first sunset here the other evening and
realized that the colors I chose for my writing room and our bedroom were right
out of that sunset. Brilliant!
This is the view from our balcony. I'll post a better picture when I have a better camera (and a nice sunset over that water). My i Phone camera sometimes only works in selfie mode.
So, in honor of living in this little lighthouse, I’d like
to unofficially rename this blog From the
Lighthouse. (I considered setting up a new blog, but don’t want to go
through the fuss and bother.)
