January Firsts

The latest news from the lighthouse is of first experiences. I wrote in my first post from Vladivostok that it was my intention to soak up new experiences. I’m keeping my word.

January 19 (midnight) was a holiday (holy day) called Kreshenie (pronounced kresh-eh-nee-yeh). Traditionally, people go to the bay where a hole has been cut through the ice and dip into the water three times. It is in honor of Jesus’ baptism. Some believe that there are healing properties in the plunge. There is often a priest on hand to oversee this holy rite. I joined some friends from the Consulate and, sans priest, took the plunge.

Our Public Relations Officer was with us, so we had a videographer and photographer even though it was not an official event due to the government shut down. I waited outside while some went indoors to suit up. We stood outside in our swim suits for pictures to be taken. The temperature was 15˚with winds gusting to eight miles per hour. (I know, I know, that doesn’t sound like gusts, but when you’re in a swim suit and when that swim suit is wet, it is typhonic.) I was the first one in the water. 

(People called me brave. Ha! I was tired─and cold─ of waiting.) I had good intentions. I told my Russian teacher that I intended to be thinking of my soul as I got into the water. N-n-nope. My soul was one of the furthest thoughts from my mind. I grabbed the wooden plank that crossed the hole, and lowered myself into the Icelandic water for the first time. I gasped wondering if I could do it a second and third time. I did and turned to get out. Thank God for a kind hand to pull me out, because I think I’d have died there otherwise. The first thing I noticed upon emerging from the water was the sensation of ice crystalizing on my skin. I doubt this actually happened, but I felt it, and it was eerie and alarming. I made my way to my towel passing my friends who may have been talking to me, I don’t know, patted off, wrapped up, grabbed my clothes and headed indoors. After reaching the heat, I felt guilty for not watching the others take the plunge. But, in keeping with my New Year’s resolution (I’ll get to that later), I stayed inside and got as dry as I could and dressed.

The weekend following Kreshenie was a three-day weekend and Douglas and I were invited to a traditional Russian banya or bath. We were invited by our Public Relations Officer (who was also our social sponsor when we first arrived, making sure we were properly welcomed) and hosted by members of the Japanese Consulate. We were met by many smiling faces and welcoming bows. There were two couples, their children and a man whose wife was in Japan. Also awaiting our arrival was a small feast of sushi, dumplings, shashlick (kabobs), a strange dessert I’ll describe in a minute, juices, beer and champagne. We ate, got acquainted, then stripped down to our swim suits and began the bathing process.

It’s not a bath as we think of it. I came out in my swim suit and saw a Jacuzzi. I stuck my toes in the water to see how hot it was. It was cold. Not hole-in-the-ice cold, but cold-cold, nonetheless. I learned that you begin a banya in a dry sauna where there is a bucket of water and a dry, leafy birch branch to dip in the water and splash onto the hot rocks making the room steam and intensify in heat. The dry leaves brushing against each other mixed with the water droplets falling onto the hot rocks and steam sounded like fine, fluid maracas. The branch is then used on the bare skin of the bathers. Everyone at this banya was gentle with the slapping so it felt good. And it smelled good, fresh and woodsy. I neglected to look at the temperature in the banya, but, having endured 124 ˚ in Phoenix, I’d guess at least 135˚. I’ve read that some Russians consider 212˚ a “decent temperature.” After getting good and hot, there are two choices: go outside and watch the steam come off your body or jump in a cool, deep Jacuzzi-like pool. I chose the pool first. The water felt good; I was in there for a few minutes before getting out and going for round two. After the sauna, I alternated between the cold water and cold outside air. Douglas took a picture of my steaming on the porch. The steam isn’t very visible, but perhaps you can make it out near my head.

After we finished with the banya, we returned to the table of food. This is when I decided to try the strange looking dessert. (There was no chocolate.) It was round, rather large and whitish. I overheard that it was made with pureed red beans and sugar. Gads. But, in keeping with experiencing new things, I tried it. When I picked it up, I was surprised at how dense it felt. I bit into it. It was soft and thick and surprisingly tasty. The outside was sugared rice paste (?). Inside was a large, sweet, delicious strawberry surrounded by the sweetened red bean concoction. I had expected to give the rest of it to Douglas after tasting it, but it was so good, I ate the whole thing, which was several bites. Look up images of Japanese Daifuku to see what they look like.

I bought a pair of ice skates with Christmas money and have been skating once a week. The second week I showed up, a woman named Elena saw me changing into my skates on the side of the rink and called me to follow her. (This was all in Russian.) I followed her to a warming house I hadn’t known about. That was nice of her, I thought. As we changed into our skates, she showed me where I could leave my boots next to a radiator so they were warm when I came back to change. She also gave me a chunk of chocolate. Подруга! (Friend!) I said. After we’d gone our separate ways on the ice, she came over to me and showed me some rudiments to practice. She’d then leave me to practice, return after 20 minutes or so and show me some more. I was getting skating lessons! I’ve long wanted ice skating lessons and now I was getting them. For free! She was there the following week and we picked up where we’d left off. She also took pictures of me. I need to tell you that Russian women (and Central Asian women) pose for pictures. Unless they work for an Embassy or Consulate and are standing amidst a bunch of Americans, you’ll not see one simply stand in front of a camera and smile. They Pose. Before she took my picture, she commented that I needed make up. I explained that I hadn’t any with me. She had some, she offered. No, thanks. She then proceeded to take my braid out and rebraid it, bringing it over the front of my shoulder. Mr. DeMille, I’m ready for my close up. She also took some video of my skating. I’m not sharing that because the file is so huge, I don’t want to bore you and I fall down. I have learned over these three weeks that I always fall on the same side of the same knee. I need knee pads. And wrist braces.

Now, my New Year’s resolution. You may or may not remember that I gave up guilt for Lent. I so enjoyed that, that my New Year’s resolution is (excuse me for a moment) f**k it. Let me explain. I’m the kind of person who is always trying to better themselves. But, naturally, I foul up from time to time. I am sick (and tired) of getting to the end of a day during which I worked on Russian, practiced music, exercised and prepared a delicious meal for Douglas and I and cleaned up afterwards, but go to bed feeling guilty because I didn’t write or pray or whatever. A day in which I do everything is rare.

So, I named this blog January Firsts. I'm not very creative when it comes to naming my blog posts. This one is well titled. In Russia, we have the January 1st new year, the orthodox new year on January 14 and Chinese new year on February 5. Lots of beginnings. I'm good with beginnings; not so good with endings. Perhaps that's another post yet to come.