декабря 29, 2006
Holidays at Last
12/29 14:12, Pushkin time
The last day of the working year; afternoon. A is getting our things ready and loaded into the van for tomorrow. I've got a couple things to do on the way home today -- getting gloves to replace the one that I must have left somewhere a week ago among the most important of them. We've been finishing up the perishable contents of our fridge these past couple of days (contents which do not include the half-dozen cartons of milk that sit, unrefrigerated, on our counter at any particular time; milk keeps here for a long, long time..). The boys are starting to get excited about the trip, though I figure that should be well-evaporated by our third hour on the road tomorrow. Hopefully, this is going to be a very good week.
Happy New Year to all.
The last day of the working year; afternoon. A is getting our things ready and loaded into the van for tomorrow. I've got a couple things to do on the way home today -- getting gloves to replace the one that I must have left somewhere a week ago among the most important of them. We've been finishing up the perishable contents of our fridge these past couple of days (contents which do not include the half-dozen cartons of milk that sit, unrefrigerated, on our counter at any particular time; milk keeps here for a long, long time..). The boys are starting to get excited about the trip, though I figure that should be well-evaporated by our third hour on the road tomorrow. Hopefully, this is going to be a very good week.
Happy New Year to all.
декабря 28, 2006
Winter
12/28 13:56, Pushkin time
This morning the snow came again; big clumps of flakes falling hard and thick (I know this means it's not particularly cold out, but snow carries a cold of its own). So much so that in the five minutes or so I spent getting the kids into their school and changed out of their snow gear, I accumulated a respectable inch worth of snow on my car. After dumping maybe four inches total, the snow quit, the clouds parted, and the sun came out (visible between the buildings this time of year, but hardly ever over their tops). A good day to start working on pre-trip stuff for our jaunt to Moscow on Saturday...
Yesterday I spent pretty much all day occupied with the boys' winter shows. G's, at 11, was pretty much what you would expect from a group of 3-4 year-olds; their attention span was just starting to wander a bit at the end. G amused everyone by dancing with the 'snowflakes' (a girls' part). His teacher came up to us afterwards and explained that, even though they had explained this to him several times during the lead-up practices, he would hear none of it, and insisted that he wanted to do the snowflake dance. It was more interesting than the gnome one, and the teacher's comment about the inclusion of a special flake this year -- dressed in an orange gnome jacket and pointy hat -- got chuckles from the assembled parents.
Z's show, at 4, was a fair bit more sophisticated. Z sung a bit of a song, had some lines, and did a bunch of dancing; at one point alone with one of the girls in his class. Both kids had lots of classical music of the "I recognize this song from Bugs Bunny cartoons"-variety. I'm guessing that their reaction to it later in life will be a bit different from their parents'.
And both kids' shows wrapped up with a visit from Ded Moroz himself. The Russian variant is thin and wears the thick all-wool boots that are still pretty prevalently used among working folks in Russia, but is otherwise the same to look at. One advantage of a thin Ded Moroz is that he comes not just to hear what the kids want, but to dance and play with the kids. And the big thing they played? Snowball-fights! Z and G were clearly in raptures when the instructions came to throw their snowballs at the big guy in red. And then, after a bit of that, he brought out presents for all the kids, and the show ended. Pretty awesome.
As for the trip down, we've got pretty much all arranged with С П; we're pushing back our departure time, thanks to the snow that we are now almost certain to have on our drive down as well as back, to 6AM. And the weather forecasts for Moscow, Petersburg, and points in between are getting more and more wintery by the day.
Speaking of which, one of our customers from northern Yakutia wrote a nice, long[, obscenity-ridden] post on the company forum about 'cold'. If you're interested in trying to read it or staring at a cascade of cyrillic characters: here It starts off along the lines of, "Oh yeah, you guys? Where's the f-king apocalypse? Cold where? Say that minus twenty five is cold? Or minus thirty? So ask me to tell you how it is when things are cold; no one else has any f-king idea about cold. So last night it was -61, this morning -58, and all week it hasn't gotten above -56" then continues for several paragraphs. The best part, where he says that the stories of how vodka doesn't freeze aren't true. It freezes all right; a bit differently than pure water (the bottles don't burst), but solid nonetheless. And then that if you've never broken the glass bottle off such a frozen thing and munched on the popsicle left behind, he very highly recommends trying it.
Northern Yakutia: a place recently added to my 'avoid going there for very long' list.
This morning the snow came again; big clumps of flakes falling hard and thick (I know this means it's not particularly cold out, but snow carries a cold of its own). So much so that in the five minutes or so I spent getting the kids into their school and changed out of their snow gear, I accumulated a respectable inch worth of snow on my car. After dumping maybe four inches total, the snow quit, the clouds parted, and the sun came out (visible between the buildings this time of year, but hardly ever over their tops). A good day to start working on pre-trip stuff for our jaunt to Moscow on Saturday...
Yesterday I spent pretty much all day occupied with the boys' winter shows. G's, at 11, was pretty much what you would expect from a group of 3-4 year-olds; their attention span was just starting to wander a bit at the end. G amused everyone by dancing with the 'snowflakes' (a girls' part). His teacher came up to us afterwards and explained that, even though they had explained this to him several times during the lead-up practices, he would hear none of it, and insisted that he wanted to do the snowflake dance. It was more interesting than the gnome one, and the teacher's comment about the inclusion of a special flake this year -- dressed in an orange gnome jacket and pointy hat -- got chuckles from the assembled parents.
Z's show, at 4, was a fair bit more sophisticated. Z sung a bit of a song, had some lines, and did a bunch of dancing; at one point alone with one of the girls in his class. Both kids had lots of classical music of the "I recognize this song from Bugs Bunny cartoons"-variety. I'm guessing that their reaction to it later in life will be a bit different from their parents'.
And both kids' shows wrapped up with a visit from Ded Moroz himself. The Russian variant is thin and wears the thick all-wool boots that are still pretty prevalently used among working folks in Russia, but is otherwise the same to look at. One advantage of a thin Ded Moroz is that he comes not just to hear what the kids want, but to dance and play with the kids. And the big thing they played? Snowball-fights! Z and G were clearly in raptures when the instructions came to throw their snowballs at the big guy in red. And then, after a bit of that, he brought out presents for all the kids, and the show ended. Pretty awesome.
As for the trip down, we've got pretty much all arranged with С П; we're pushing back our departure time, thanks to the snow that we are now almost certain to have on our drive down as well as back, to 6AM. And the weather forecasts for Moscow, Petersburg, and points in between are getting more and more wintery by the day.
Speaking of which, one of our customers from northern Yakutia wrote a nice, long[, obscenity-ridden] post on the company forum about 'cold'. If you're interested in trying to read it or staring at a cascade of cyrillic characters: here It starts off along the lines of, "Oh yeah, you guys? Where's the f-king apocalypse? Cold where? Say that minus twenty five is cold? Or minus thirty? So ask me to tell you how it is when things are cold; no one else has any f-king idea about cold. So last night it was -61, this morning -58, and all week it hasn't gotten above -56" then continues for several paragraphs. The best part, where he says that the stories of how vodka doesn't freeze aren't true. It freezes all right; a bit differently than pure water (the bottles don't burst), but solid nonetheless. And then that if you've never broken the glass bottle off such a frozen thing and munched on the popsicle left behind, he very highly recommends trying it.
Northern Yakutia: a place recently added to my 'avoid going there for very long' list.
декабря 26, 2006
Calendars
12/26 14:11, Pushkin time
I wrote nothing yesterday because I was mad-busy, not because of a holiday -- christmas in Russia occurs on a different day, as the Orthodox church follows the Julian calendar. This year, that means that christmas is on the seventh of January. But that day isn't really a big celebration for most people here; presents and the whole whatnot are all done on New Years. The tree is a New Years tree, Santa Claus (Дедушка Мороз - 'Dedushka Moroz') comes on the night of the 31st, and so forth. So yesterday is just the day that everyone in Russia who does business with foreign partners expects to be able to get nothing done. We still have one more week to go.
Today (in fact, just now) I went out with Ю Б and В В, the facilities manager and the sales manager, respectively, to check out our plundered trailer. While there and going through it -- we confirmed, my wrench set is gone, as well as A's box of china that she got from her grandmother, but not much more -- Д Д, the lawyer, showed up as well and started talking about putting together a list of values for stuff that was missing. Also, between the five of us (it started snowing and got really cold, so A went back to sit in the car), we discussed relocating the trailer for improved security and whatnot. They are quite motivated, not simply due to our having gotten nicked, but because it is very bad for a place to get a reputation for being easy and good pickings.
This morning on the way to the kids' school, I managed to get stopped by the cops who sit right behind the Egyptian Gates. I got out, started handing the guy paperwork, and was very quickly shocked when he looked it over, handed it back, and told me to go on my way. That's two times more or less in a row where I haven't been shaken-down. It boggles belief.
Speaking of traffic police, I've come to an interesting discovery in my conversations with coworkers. I try to explain the difference in the way people here relate to the police and the way people in the US relate to them. Of course, most Russians will tell you that they wish their police were honest and worked in the best interest of the people. But when I tried to offer that people in the US perhaps were inclined to disapprove of corruption anв to cooperate with police when they encountered them because they believe (correctly or not) that the police in the US are honest public servants, people here reject that explanation as obviously false. After all, it even makes the news over here (brief blurb, but still something) when the police break into the house of a ninety-year-old woman and shoot her dead based on an incorrect warrant, or out-of-uniform police shoot fifty times into a car full of unarmed people. So the obvious conclusion, as far as Russians are concerned, is that Americans obey because they are terrified of their police -- only an idiot would fail to see the fact that they are anything but honest public servants, so that can't be the explanation. And with the increasingly public embrace of prisoner-torture (which, they say, was never so explicitly condoned in Soviet days, even if widely practiced nonetheless) down to the level of the US civil jail system and the recent reports putting the US at the very top of the list for incarceration-of-people, the people here conclude that the level of terror in the US is still further increasing. It's hard to argue against from personal experience, when all the evidence supports their case. Even people who have travelled there come back with stories about being warned, if you are stopped on the road by police, to absolutely not even consider opening your door, keep your hands motionless on the steering wheel, don't make eye contact, and so forth. It does strongly suggest a particular state of affairs...
And also, yesterday, I went with the realty agent to go and surrender my box-o-cash into a holding. I got a piece of paper back that allows me to, at the end of thirty days, go back and get the money back if it hasn't already been picked up by the other party (to whom it will be surrendered only in exchange for a notarized copy of a completed transaction receipt for the title to the land to me -- that is, only when the land is actually in my hands. This should occur, based on the speed of the land-titling bureaucracy, by the middle of January. Over a million rubles in bundles of thousands and five-hundreds, going through the little spinning-counter bank gizmo a packet at a time. Very cool.
I wrote nothing yesterday because I was mad-busy, not because of a holiday -- christmas in Russia occurs on a different day, as the Orthodox church follows the Julian calendar. This year, that means that christmas is on the seventh of January. But that day isn't really a big celebration for most people here; presents and the whole whatnot are all done on New Years. The tree is a New Years tree, Santa Claus (Дедушка Мороз - 'Dedushka Moroz') comes on the night of the 31st, and so forth. So yesterday is just the day that everyone in Russia who does business with foreign partners expects to be able to get nothing done. We still have one more week to go.
Today (in fact, just now) I went out with Ю Б and В В, the facilities manager and the sales manager, respectively, to check out our plundered trailer. While there and going through it -- we confirmed, my wrench set is gone, as well as A's box of china that she got from her grandmother, but not much more -- Д Д, the lawyer, showed up as well and started talking about putting together a list of values for stuff that was missing. Also, between the five of us (it started snowing and got really cold, so A went back to sit in the car), we discussed relocating the trailer for improved security and whatnot. They are quite motivated, not simply due to our having gotten nicked, but because it is very bad for a place to get a reputation for being easy and good pickings.
This morning on the way to the kids' school, I managed to get stopped by the cops who sit right behind the Egyptian Gates. I got out, started handing the guy paperwork, and was very quickly shocked when he looked it over, handed it back, and told me to go on my way. That's two times more or less in a row where I haven't been shaken-down. It boggles belief.
Speaking of traffic police, I've come to an interesting discovery in my conversations with coworkers. I try to explain the difference in the way people here relate to the police and the way people in the US relate to them. Of course, most Russians will tell you that they wish their police were honest and worked in the best interest of the people. But when I tried to offer that people in the US perhaps were inclined to disapprove of corruption anв to cooperate with police when they encountered them because they believe (correctly or not) that the police in the US are honest public servants, people here reject that explanation as obviously false. After all, it even makes the news over here (brief blurb, but still something) when the police break into the house of a ninety-year-old woman and shoot her dead based on an incorrect warrant, or out-of-uniform police shoot fifty times into a car full of unarmed people. So the obvious conclusion, as far as Russians are concerned, is that Americans obey because they are terrified of their police -- only an idiot would fail to see the fact that they are anything but honest public servants, so that can't be the explanation. And with the increasingly public embrace of prisoner-torture (which, they say, was never so explicitly condoned in Soviet days, even if widely practiced nonetheless) down to the level of the US civil jail system and the recent reports putting the US at the very top of the list for incarceration-of-people, the people here conclude that the level of terror in the US is still further increasing. It's hard to argue against from personal experience, when all the evidence supports their case. Even people who have travelled there come back with stories about being warned, if you are stopped on the road by police, to absolutely not even consider opening your door, keep your hands motionless on the steering wheel, don't make eye contact, and so forth. It does strongly suggest a particular state of affairs...
And also, yesterday, I went with the realty agent to go and surrender my box-o-cash into a holding. I got a piece of paper back that allows me to, at the end of thirty days, go back and get the money back if it hasn't already been picked up by the other party (to whom it will be surrendered only in exchange for a notarized copy of a completed transaction receipt for the title to the land to me -- that is, only when the land is actually in my hands. This should occur, based on the speed of the land-titling bureaucracy, by the middle of January. Over a million rubles in bundles of thousands and five-hundreds, going through the little spinning-counter bank gizmo a packet at a time. Very cool.
декабря 23, 2006
Birthday Time!
12/24 09:49, Pushkin time
Today we are having some of G's friends (one of whom has an older sister classmate of Z's, coming as well) to celebrate his FOURTH birthday! Very exciting. He's been walking around all morning, talking about how, even though he is bigger today, it looks like all of his shirts and pants have grown to keep up with him from yesterday. Of course, with the melt from the beginning-of-the-week snow and the sprinkle that moved in this morning, it looks more and more as if the outdoors component of his party will be short-lived. I'm still hoping for a noontime break in the clouds, which should get things at least down to damp on the playground in time for the 2:30 party. A is, of course, currently absorbed in preparations -- I have this free time since pretty much all that's left to get done is in one room and more than one serious worker there is more clutter than it's worth.
The happy day today comes on the heels of a pretty crummy saturday. It started out with A and I intending to make a quick hop at the realty agents' office to meet a guy and then go into town to get some paperwork prepared. I ended up spending almost ninety minutes in the realty office, going over possible permutations regarding buying property with the identification paperwork A and I have available.
Under Russian law, there's no such thing as dual-ownership in the sense of having two names on a single title. If a person is married, they are not allowed to buy or sell property without the permission of their spouse, and any property is considered wholly owned by the both of them in the case of death or separation. This would be an ideal option; for me (or A) to buy the property and have attached to the title deed the paper indicating that the other is in agreement with the purchase. However, we have inadequate bureaucratic proof that we are married. US passports (unlike most others in the world) do not indicate marriage status or the status of kids for that matter; the birth certiicates we brought with us list both of us as the parents and A's maiden name, married name the same as mine, and so forth -- very strong evidence that we are who we say we are, but they do not have the words "marriage certificate" on them. So the ideal option is at this time not available to us.
The second option is for me to buy the property without mentioning A, then turn around and re-register as having 'given' her a half-title. This actually means that the property will have two, physical titles, each one for half-ownership. It changes nothing except to add the layer of complication, but at least in some sense both our names are on the place.
A third option, which I was uncomfortable about asking the agent about and will instead consult with the lawyer at work, is to buy without mentioning A, then 'find' her as soon as we get our copy of the marriage certificate. I'm a bit concerned by this, since it is possible that it could be interpreted as my having bought fraudulently in the first place. Hence the talk with the lawyer. If it turns out to be free from legal consequences, this is probably the path we will take.
Anyway, since we're not going to be talking about A (we've discussed her doing the whole thing instead of me, but she doesn't want to) at this point, I went into the city by myself to go and get an official translation of my passport at the one bureau that is licensed to do that. I had to wait three hours for it to be done, so I parked the car, hopped the metro, and went looking for a couple of presents I had decided to get A and the kids. And met with failure at every place I stopped. This close to New Year, it seems, the good stuff is just as cleaned out here as it is in the US. Crap.
So I got my passport translation back, swung by home to pick up A and the kids, and out to the trailer with our stuff in it to pick up some miscellaneous and some presents that her family had bought for the kids before we packed up and left. Getting to the trailer, A commented that the lock looked a bit scratched-up. And once we got into it, it had clearly been gone through. Fortunately, we didn't have a whole lot of high resale value stuff, so aside from some measure of our sense of security, only some of my tools, and about 3/4 of the presents were missing. Of course, it was dark, and we were going by flashlight, and there were a lot of open boxes, so we are going to have to go back to do a more thorough inventory, but it could have been a lot worse. And once we got home and got ourselves pulled back together, A was able to comment that at least we weren't dodging bullets aimed at our next-door neighbor like we almost were a couple of years back. Still, it certainly goes under the 'last things we needed' category.
But anyway, G's birthday! On with the show! (And by the way, A has added a bit to the website, if you want to go check that out.
Today we are having some of G's friends (one of whom has an older sister classmate of Z's, coming as well) to celebrate his FOURTH birthday! Very exciting. He's been walking around all morning, talking about how, even though he is bigger today, it looks like all of his shirts and pants have grown to keep up with him from yesterday. Of course, with the melt from the beginning-of-the-week snow and the sprinkle that moved in this morning, it looks more and more as if the outdoors component of his party will be short-lived. I'm still hoping for a noontime break in the clouds, which should get things at least down to damp on the playground in time for the 2:30 party. A is, of course, currently absorbed in preparations -- I have this free time since pretty much all that's left to get done is in one room and more than one serious worker there is more clutter than it's worth.
The happy day today comes on the heels of a pretty crummy saturday. It started out with A and I intending to make a quick hop at the realty agents' office to meet a guy and then go into town to get some paperwork prepared. I ended up spending almost ninety minutes in the realty office, going over possible permutations regarding buying property with the identification paperwork A and I have available.
Under Russian law, there's no such thing as dual-ownership in the sense of having two names on a single title. If a person is married, they are not allowed to buy or sell property without the permission of their spouse, and any property is considered wholly owned by the both of them in the case of death or separation. This would be an ideal option; for me (or A) to buy the property and have attached to the title deed the paper indicating that the other is in agreement with the purchase. However, we have inadequate bureaucratic proof that we are married. US passports (unlike most others in the world) do not indicate marriage status or the status of kids for that matter; the birth certiicates we brought with us list both of us as the parents and A's maiden name, married name the same as mine, and so forth -- very strong evidence that we are who we say we are, but they do not have the words "marriage certificate" on them. So the ideal option is at this time not available to us.
The second option is for me to buy the property without mentioning A, then turn around and re-register as having 'given' her a half-title. This actually means that the property will have two, physical titles, each one for half-ownership. It changes nothing except to add the layer of complication, but at least in some sense both our names are on the place.
A third option, which I was uncomfortable about asking the agent about and will instead consult with the lawyer at work, is to buy without mentioning A, then 'find' her as soon as we get our copy of the marriage certificate. I'm a bit concerned by this, since it is possible that it could be interpreted as my having bought fraudulently in the first place. Hence the talk with the lawyer. If it turns out to be free from legal consequences, this is probably the path we will take.
Anyway, since we're not going to be talking about A (we've discussed her doing the whole thing instead of me, but she doesn't want to) at this point, I went into the city by myself to go and get an official translation of my passport at the one bureau that is licensed to do that. I had to wait three hours for it to be done, so I parked the car, hopped the metro, and went looking for a couple of presents I had decided to get A and the kids. And met with failure at every place I stopped. This close to New Year, it seems, the good stuff is just as cleaned out here as it is in the US. Crap.
So I got my passport translation back, swung by home to pick up A and the kids, and out to the trailer with our stuff in it to pick up some miscellaneous and some presents that her family had bought for the kids before we packed up and left. Getting to the trailer, A commented that the lock looked a bit scratched-up. And once we got into it, it had clearly been gone through. Fortunately, we didn't have a whole lot of high resale value stuff, so aside from some measure of our sense of security, only some of my tools, and about 3/4 of the presents were missing. Of course, it was dark, and we were going by flashlight, and there were a lot of open boxes, so we are going to have to go back to do a more thorough inventory, but it could have been a lot worse. And once we got home and got ourselves pulled back together, A was able to comment that at least we weren't dodging bullets aimed at our next-door neighbor like we almost were a couple of years back. Still, it certainly goes under the 'last things we needed' category.
But anyway, G's birthday! On with the show! (And by the way, A has added a bit to the website, if you want to go check that out.
декабря 22, 2006
Company Party
12/22 12:30, Pushkin time
Yesterday evening was the company New Year party. A and I arranged for the same guy to sit for the boys (they were extatic all morning). I had been told by И some days ago when I asked him about dress for it that I should come "as I felt like it". So, when I pulled into work yesterday morning to see guys carrying garment-bagged suits, I swore under my breath and made a mental note to dash home a bit early to upgrade my regular work attire. Still, when I did get home at the end of the day, i figured a tie would be enough; didn't even think to change out of my boots.
So, when we showed up, and everyone was in suits (I was one of the three exceptions), I was a bit distressed. Talking to И, he did remind me that on my first day in he told me that I would only really need a suit on one day a year. I suppose that was it...
And as I later explained to A, the party was, writ large, basically what I had been doing at least every other day on my business trips. Booze, food, entertainment. Several things clearly fell under the 'no US company would dare doing this' heading. For example, every table was equipped with several packages of sparklers, some pull-the-string-to-make-them-explode hand confetti cannons, some mini roman candle things, and a couple of big boom sticks. Once the appetizers and drinking got into swing, fire was everywhere. The entertainment was semi-rotating; they had some ballet dancers come in for a number, a violinist play a few songs from time to time, and a couple other acts. A group of drunken guys and I -- not to except myself from their number, it wasn't just your water glass that got refilled as soon as it was half-empty -- spent a couple minutes yelling obscenities at each other in the various languages we knew, interspersed with laughing and shooting the hand-cannons over each others' heads. We had to bail out at about the 75% point, since the sitter needed to get home, himself, but it was still a ripping good time. I told A, every holiday should come with fireworks.
Yesterday evening was the company New Year party. A and I arranged for the same guy to sit for the boys (they were extatic all morning). I had been told by И some days ago when I asked him about dress for it that I should come "as I felt like it". So, when I pulled into work yesterday morning to see guys carrying garment-bagged suits, I swore under my breath and made a mental note to dash home a bit early to upgrade my regular work attire. Still, when I did get home at the end of the day, i figured a tie would be enough; didn't even think to change out of my boots.
So, when we showed up, and everyone was in suits (I was one of the three exceptions), I was a bit distressed. Talking to И, he did remind me that on my first day in he told me that I would only really need a suit on one day a year. I suppose that was it...
And as I later explained to A, the party was, writ large, basically what I had been doing at least every other day on my business trips. Booze, food, entertainment. Several things clearly fell under the 'no US company would dare doing this' heading. For example, every table was equipped with several packages of sparklers, some pull-the-string-to-make-them-explode hand confetti cannons, some mini roman candle things, and a couple of big boom sticks. Once the appetizers and drinking got into swing, fire was everywhere. The entertainment was semi-rotating; they had some ballet dancers come in for a number, a violinist play a few songs from time to time, and a couple other acts. A group of drunken guys and I -- not to except myself from their number, it wasn't just your water glass that got refilled as soon as it was half-empty -- spent a couple minutes yelling obscenities at each other in the various languages we knew, interspersed with laughing and shooting the hand-cannons over each others' heads. We had to bail out at about the 75% point, since the sitter needed to get home, himself, but it was still a ripping good time. I told A, every holiday should come with fireworks.
декабря 21, 2006
Language skills
12/21 11:42, Pushkin time
So yesterday I had to run back out to the realtor agents' office to put down the deposit that I really should have done a week ago and sign the four papers (two copies of two papers each) that constitute the pre-sale contract. That all went comfortably well, and the cutting back across the train crossing to get back to work, I got flagged to a stop by the cops who take up residence there. Since I hadn't done anything wrong, I was figuring maybe I'в talk for a bit before jumping to the hundred rubles.
The cop who waved me over took my passport, and we had a bit of a "how's it going", "cold out today" type conversation while I dug in my pocket for the car paperwork. Once I had that, he says to me, "permisdeconduire?". Huh? And then it hits me -- slow it down a bit and he just asked for my driver's license in French. So I get that out and give it to him, at the same time rebuking him lightly with the fact that he had my American passport, and everyone knows Americans don't speak foreign languages. Of course, he fires back that I'm speaking pretty good Russian with him right now. I agreed, but said that, since I work with mechanics, I speak more of a 'working' Russian anyway; which I followed by way of example with a sort of half-voiced something along the lines of "fucking shit" (such doesn't translate very meaningfully). He gives a big belly laugh, slaps an arm around my shoulders, tells me, "Good man", gives me my papers back with a handshake, and waves me to go ahead anв continue on my way, still chuckling. I'll have to keep that tactic in my arsenal for future reference...
And today the temp is bouncing back up into the positive side of the scale. They're calling for +2; the snow is slowly starting to drip away, and it seems that soon enough we'll be wondering when the next cold snap will come through. It's not a bad thing, since I discovered this morning that I appear to have misplaced one of my gloves -- the set has been with me since I bought them in Montreal on a business trip in December a couple years ago (yes, I went to Toronto and Montreal in December without gloves; I know better now). It is a bit sad; I'm fairly certain, thinking back, that I took that one off my hand to get the gas cap off, filling up my car. I can't recall putting it back on, so it must have been still on the roof when I drove off.
Of course, finding a pair of gloves in the store around here this time of year is no challenge at all...
So yesterday I had to run back out to the realtor agents' office to put down the deposit that I really should have done a week ago and sign the four papers (two copies of two papers each) that constitute the pre-sale contract. That all went comfortably well, and the cutting back across the train crossing to get back to work, I got flagged to a stop by the cops who take up residence there. Since I hadn't done anything wrong, I was figuring maybe I'в talk for a bit before jumping to the hundred rubles.
The cop who waved me over took my passport, and we had a bit of a "how's it going", "cold out today" type conversation while I dug in my pocket for the car paperwork. Once I had that, he says to me, "permisdeconduire?". Huh? And then it hits me -- slow it down a bit and he just asked for my driver's license in French. So I get that out and give it to him, at the same time rebuking him lightly with the fact that he had my American passport, and everyone knows Americans don't speak foreign languages. Of course, he fires back that I'm speaking pretty good Russian with him right now. I agreed, but said that, since I work with mechanics, I speak more of a 'working' Russian anyway; which I followed by way of example with a sort of half-voiced something along the lines of "fucking shit" (such doesn't translate very meaningfully). He gives a big belly laugh, slaps an arm around my shoulders, tells me, "Good man", gives me my papers back with a handshake, and waves me to go ahead anв continue on my way, still chuckling. I'll have to keep that tactic in my arsenal for future reference...
And today the temp is bouncing back up into the positive side of the scale. They're calling for +2; the snow is slowly starting to drip away, and it seems that soon enough we'll be wondering when the next cold snap will come through. It's not a bad thing, since I discovered this morning that I appear to have misplaced one of my gloves -- the set has been with me since I bought them in Montreal on a business trip in December a couple years ago (yes, I went to Toronto and Montreal in December without gloves; I know better now). It is a bit sad; I'm fairly certain, thinking back, that I took that one off my hand to get the gas cap off, filling up my car. I can't recall putting it back on, so it must have been still on the roof when I drove off.
Of course, finding a pair of gloves in the store around here this time of year is no challenge at all...
декабря 19, 2006
Snow Day
12/19 20:28, Pushkin time
A day of work and driving on ice. The guy we have in town from Moscow wants to get some english practice before he heads to England in February for a couple weeks, so we did that on the rides in and out of work today. It is kind of funny to be talking to someone where, when we get stuck on a word, I find the correct word in Russian or understand his correct Russian word and give him the English. It's where I was myself for pretty much all of my trips here (and the first month of this latest).
We were also informed this evening that another agent has another very interested person in the property we're pretty much planning to get. So I have to dash over tomorrow morning to put down the deposit that I really should have put down a week or so ago. Pain in the ass; I'll be going back and forth across the railroad crossing all morning, it seems.
And then, at work, the new truck we got, disassembled, from Brazil is ready for putting together; so that will be the better part of tomorrow and probably most of my time until the holidays. And then, we head down to Moscow. Our schedule down there is getting more and more full; I got a call from J V today, and when he heard we were going to be in his neck of the woods, he insisted that we must get together with him and his wife and new son (if we don't mind them bringing him, he adds). Hopefully, there will still be time to see some sights as well as all the people.
But before that, there's G's birthday on Sunday. We're planning on having some kids over for cake and playing on the new playground equipment, though A and I worry that the invitees (or at least their parents) are not taking seriously our "no need for presents" qualifier. It will be interesting to see how that all works out.
A day of work and driving on ice. The guy we have in town from Moscow wants to get some english practice before he heads to England in February for a couple weeks, so we did that on the rides in and out of work today. It is kind of funny to be talking to someone where, when we get stuck on a word, I find the correct word in Russian or understand his correct Russian word and give him the English. It's where I was myself for pretty much all of my trips here (and the first month of this latest).
We were also informed this evening that another agent has another very interested person in the property we're pretty much planning to get. So I have to dash over tomorrow morning to put down the deposit that I really should have put down a week or so ago. Pain in the ass; I'll be going back and forth across the railroad crossing all morning, it seems.
And then, at work, the new truck we got, disassembled, from Brazil is ready for putting together; so that will be the better part of tomorrow and probably most of my time until the holidays. And then, we head down to Moscow. Our schedule down there is getting more and more full; I got a call from J V today, and when he heard we were going to be in his neck of the woods, he insisted that we must get together with him and his wife and new son (if we don't mind them bringing him, he adds). Hopefully, there will still be time to see some sights as well as all the people.
But before that, there's G's birthday on Sunday. We're planning on having some kids over for cake and playing on the new playground equipment, though A and I worry that the invitees (or at least their parents) are not taking seriously our "no need for presents" qualifier. It will be interesting to see how that all works out.
декабря 18, 2006
I'm a Bad Blogger
12/18 20:47, Pushkin time
Almost a week since I last wrote. I suck.
I can hardly even remember what I did to finish off last week. The weekend is a bit less of a blur; I know that I got together with И to have him check out the land we're looking at (the verdict: buy it) and in the process got to hear more of the slightly-checkered past of the guys I'm working for. They're as clean as you could possibly get now, but there was a time when things were a bit crazier. As anyone who's been around them long enough to know will testify, neither of them actually killed anyone or had them killed -- which sets them quite a bit above the vast majority of the business owners in Russia of their level and higher. Anything else they may have done is hardly significant at all, except as good stories.
Then Sunday we drove all around town looking for a better digital camera (success! Even cheaper than we'd be able to get for the same thing in the US) and a dress for A (less of a success; it appears that skirt-and-top is much more popular here than the full dress). And other than that, Sunday escapes from my recollection too.
Although, when I checked the forecast on Sunday morning, they were calling for relatively warm through the entire week. Sunday evening I noticed that such puddles as remained on the ground were looking decidedly icy. And this morning, when I got up a 6:15 (unreasonably early by the local standards), it was to find that snow had fallen during the night in respectable quantity. The snow was a good two inches above ankle-deep and still falling. I was in a hurry, having woken up early to go into the city to pick up a guy who came out from Moscow to conduct a training course, and so only brushed clean the windows of my car, figuring the wind would take care of the stuff on the hood and roof. Ha ha. When I ran out of wiper fluid (A is fond of saying that it doesn't rain water here, but mud) inside Petersburg and stopped as a gas station to get a new bottle, a guy came up to me asking if I was just down from the Pole; there was hardly any snow in the city at all, and he was shocked to hear that my accumulation was from Pushkin (basically right next door).
Anyway, I picked the guy up, back to work, did my stuff, and here I am trying -- very unsatisfyingly -- to catch up. We'll just have to call this 'good enough' and hope that I get to writing a bit more frequently in the future.
Almost a week since I last wrote. I suck.
I can hardly even remember what I did to finish off last week. The weekend is a bit less of a blur; I know that I got together with И to have him check out the land we're looking at (the verdict: buy it) and in the process got to hear more of the slightly-checkered past of the guys I'm working for. They're as clean as you could possibly get now, but there was a time when things were a bit crazier. As anyone who's been around them long enough to know will testify, neither of them actually killed anyone or had them killed -- which sets them quite a bit above the vast majority of the business owners in Russia of their level and higher. Anything else they may have done is hardly significant at all, except as good stories.
Then Sunday we drove all around town looking for a better digital camera (success! Even cheaper than we'd be able to get for the same thing in the US) and a dress for A (less of a success; it appears that skirt-and-top is much more popular here than the full dress). And other than that, Sunday escapes from my recollection too.
Although, when I checked the forecast on Sunday morning, they were calling for relatively warm through the entire week. Sunday evening I noticed that such puddles as remained on the ground were looking decidedly icy. And this morning, when I got up a 6:15 (unreasonably early by the local standards), it was to find that snow had fallen during the night in respectable quantity. The snow was a good two inches above ankle-deep and still falling. I was in a hurry, having woken up early to go into the city to pick up a guy who came out from Moscow to conduct a training course, and so only brushed clean the windows of my car, figuring the wind would take care of the stuff on the hood and roof. Ha ha. When I ran out of wiper fluid (A is fond of saying that it doesn't rain water here, but mud) inside Petersburg and stopped as a gas station to get a new bottle, a guy came up to me asking if I was just down from the Pole; there was hardly any snow in the city at all, and he was shocked to hear that my accumulation was from Pushkin (basically right next door).
Anyway, I picked the guy up, back to work, did my stuff, and here I am trying -- very unsatisfyingly -- to catch up. We'll just have to call this 'good enough' and hope that I get to writing a bit more frequently in the future.
декабря 13, 2006
Paperwork
12/13 11:30, Pushkin time
Monday was a working day. Though the courier I sent with my passport ot get the extra pages stuck in it called me in the mid-afternoon to tell me that, after an insulting experience getting into the US consulate, he was told that whoever told me that such services could be done not-in-person (there were actually two different people who told me this) was wrong and that I would have to go myself. -sigh-
So yesterday A took the package of presents we need to send back to the US, and I took my passport and the application form, and we headed into the city right after her school ended at one. We made quite good time up to the consulate, getting there only slightly after two.
And then the difficulties started.
Getting into the building, we were told at the outside doors that I needed to come in, bringing the box with me, and that A would need to wait on the street. Then, standing in a clearly-relatively-recently-added glass box, I proceeded to half-unpack the box in front of two guards, while another called inside to make sure that we were allowed to bring such a thing in. Fortunately, before the guard was able to get me to start unwrapping presents, the consulate staff called back to tell him that since they weren't expecting us, we couldn't bring the box in, no matter what. So I gave the box to A, asked her to wait in the car while I straightened things out -- I'd call her, I said.
Then back into the glass box. The usual airport empty-your-pockets-into-the-box (though they seemed not particularly broken over my steel capped boots). Then through a gauntlet of alternating wand-wavers and beeping tunnels, being dusted periodically with the chemical detection swipes. And at the end, They took the contents of my pockets (phone and keys included), put them in a cubby, and gave me a coat-check tag to get them back when I was done. To get anywhere inside, you had to go past more glass-box type places with camouflage-wearing(??) guys looking from the other side of the glass. Then to the "american citizen services" section, only to be told that, in much the same way as I had been misinformed about the feasibility of using a courier, A had been radically misled about shipping through the Consulate. Their postal service "Isn't for the use of american citizens" (as opposed to praetorians like themselves, one assumes from their demeanor). Fuck off. (And that money A paid to get the US postage pre-applied to the package? Didn't you hear the first time? Fuck off.)
Okay, to another window to get my passport done. The clerk here was Russian and of much more pleasant demeanor. She informed me that I was very lucky; I got to be the first passport to get new pages using their brand-new equipment. Of course, it might take them a little while to figure out how to use it; maybe as long as a half-hour, so just hang around.
Of course, with no way to call A, I had to give up my passport, then go back outside (consulting with every single security guy on the way out to make sure they would let me back in without requiring paperwork). A took it stoically, and headed out to check out some shops across the road. And I went back through the gauntlet and back inside.
And waited
And waited
And waited
More than an hour and a half later, the girl announced 'success' and gave me back my passport, now 26 pages thicker. And I left, vowing not to come back again unless there was absolutely no other option. Which, it turns out, will be much sooner than I would have hoped. In waiting I asked another middling-rude clerk about how we could get the new kid (once he's born in May) added to A's passport. "We don't do that; you'll have to get him one of his own". Which, of course, means getting his picture taken, than bringing him into the consulate office immediately after birth (because all children have to come in person), paying a couple hundred dollars, then in a half-month getting his documents-of-ownership back from them, getting my office to apply of a visa invitation for him, waiting up to a month for that, then paying a couple hundred more dollars to apply for and actually get the visa itself and have it affixed to his passport. And during that time, no travel anywhere is going to be possible. I suppose it would be worse were A to want to go have him be born in the US. Not only would the birth itself cost in the neighborhood of ten times as much even once insurance has taken it's share), but the process of getting him documented would strand her there for most likely the better part of four months. Here we may be able to get everything done in half that time. But barring that unfortunate necessity, I'm not going anywhere near any US offices for a long, long time.
Monday was a working day. Though the courier I sent with my passport ot get the extra pages stuck in it called me in the mid-afternoon to tell me that, after an insulting experience getting into the US consulate, he was told that whoever told me that such services could be done not-in-person (there were actually two different people who told me this) was wrong and that I would have to go myself. -sigh-
So yesterday A took the package of presents we need to send back to the US, and I took my passport and the application form, and we headed into the city right after her school ended at one. We made quite good time up to the consulate, getting there only slightly after two.
And then the difficulties started.
Getting into the building, we were told at the outside doors that I needed to come in, bringing the box with me, and that A would need to wait on the street. Then, standing in a clearly-relatively-recently-added glass box, I proceeded to half-unpack the box in front of two guards, while another called inside to make sure that we were allowed to bring such a thing in. Fortunately, before the guard was able to get me to start unwrapping presents, the consulate staff called back to tell him that since they weren't expecting us, we couldn't bring the box in, no matter what. So I gave the box to A, asked her to wait in the car while I straightened things out -- I'd call her, I said.
Then back into the glass box. The usual airport empty-your-pockets-into-the-box (though they seemed not particularly broken over my steel capped boots). Then through a gauntlet of alternating wand-wavers and beeping tunnels, being dusted periodically with the chemical detection swipes. And at the end, They took the contents of my pockets (phone and keys included), put them in a cubby, and gave me a coat-check tag to get them back when I was done. To get anywhere inside, you had to go past more glass-box type places with camouflage-wearing(??) guys looking from the other side of the glass. Then to the "american citizen services" section, only to be told that, in much the same way as I had been misinformed about the feasibility of using a courier, A had been radically misled about shipping through the Consulate. Their postal service "Isn't for the use of american citizens" (as opposed to praetorians like themselves, one assumes from their demeanor). Fuck off. (And that money A paid to get the US postage pre-applied to the package? Didn't you hear the first time? Fuck off.)
Okay, to another window to get my passport done. The clerk here was Russian and of much more pleasant demeanor. She informed me that I was very lucky; I got to be the first passport to get new pages using their brand-new equipment. Of course, it might take them a little while to figure out how to use it; maybe as long as a half-hour, so just hang around.
Of course, with no way to call A, I had to give up my passport, then go back outside (consulting with every single security guy on the way out to make sure they would let me back in without requiring paperwork). A took it stoically, and headed out to check out some shops across the road. And I went back through the gauntlet and back inside.
And waited
And waited
And waited
More than an hour and a half later, the girl announced 'success' and gave me back my passport, now 26 pages thicker. And I left, vowing not to come back again unless there was absolutely no other option. Which, it turns out, will be much sooner than I would have hoped. In waiting I asked another middling-rude clerk about how we could get the new kid (once he's born in May) added to A's passport. "We don't do that; you'll have to get him one of his own". Which, of course, means getting his picture taken, than bringing him into the consulate office immediately after birth (because all children have to come in person), paying a couple hundred dollars, then in a half-month getting his documents-of-ownership back from them, getting my office to apply of a visa invitation for him, waiting up to a month for that, then paying a couple hundred more dollars to apply for and actually get the visa itself and have it affixed to his passport. And during that time, no travel anywhere is going to be possible. I suppose it would be worse were A to want to go have him be born in the US. Not only would the birth itself cost in the neighborhood of ten times as much even once insurance has taken it's share), but the process of getting him documented would strand her there for most likely the better part of four months. Here we may be able to get everything done in half that time. But barring that unfortunate necessity, I'm not going anywhere near any US offices for a long, long time.
декабря 10, 2006
Solzhenitsyn's Birthday
(or so they said on the radio this morning)
12/11 10:57, Pushkin time
I spent a decent chunk of Friday calling realtors' numbers from ads on the Inter Nets. A couple of hits, the most interesting of which wу met with in the middle of Saturday to go look at some stuff in Polkrovskaya, south of Pavlovsk, just over the Petersburg, Leningradskaya Oblast border - on the LenOblast side, as the quick transition of road quality clearly indicates. Two thingz we looked at were houses that had been built back in the mid-40s on long, narrow lots running from the road on a ridgeline down to pretty much the bottom of the valley. Neither house was particularly interesting (which need not be a problem, as the idea for such a place would be to live in it while we are building a place that we like, then tear down and have the yard space), and as it turns out, the lots really aren't shaped all that well for the kinds of places we are looking at building.
The third thing we looked at was an empty lot (empty at present due to the old schoolhouse which had been its previous tenant having burned to the ground this past January). It's in a pretty good place as far as connections to the outside world (that is, roads, electricity, telephone) are concerned. The lot is roughly square, located on the same ridge -- you begin to appreciate the merits of high ground when you start to look at property in the middle of swamplands -- and has an advertised size of 15 'sotok' (from the word 'sto' for 'hundred', a hundred square meters). We didn't carry a tape measure, and my eyes aren't really calibrated to estimate in metric, but such a space should be in the neighborhood of 40 meters on a side, and I'm not sure I believe that for this one in particular. We're going to have the agent have someone go out with a tape and get us precise boundaries, ostensibly so we can lay out our plans on them, before the discussion on it goes much further.
If I am simply mis-reading the sizes (a distinct possibility) the lot actually represents a pretty good buy, all things considered. Realtors, as well as people who don't stand to gain by convincing us to buy right away, are all in agreement that the prices on land in the vicinity of the Peterburg/LenOblast boundary are going to take a big jump as soon as the spring buying season commences. With a small crappy apartment in the city going for 85 thousand dollars, more and more people are choosing to sink half that amount into a half-acre and the other half (or less) into a home for themselves. I still want to check out the areas up more to the east-and-north of Petersburg, but I get the feeling we are getting pretty close to taking this first step. How exciting...
And yesterday we got invited over to И's place for lunch/dinner shashlik. A spoke a bit, got some good practice listening, and got to get some questions answered about buying gold and silver in Russia (short answers, "don't bother" and "very easy", respectively). The boys played well with И and К's kids; shortly after arrival, their son, who is a year older than Z, came down to excitedly relay that, 'The older one knows how to talk now!' It's true, too. This morning, dropping Z off at his preschool, I hung back long enough to hear him go over to another kid to ask he was looking at, and if he could check it out, too; imperfect grammar, but totally comprehensible. G persists -- among us at least -- in learning individual words, but not yet much in the way of sentences.
Oh yeah. They've turned on the New Year's lights along all the major roads in Pushkin, along with a light display next to the Egyptian Gate. And most every night, someone, somewhere is shooting off fireworks. This year we're probably going to be cheap, but I've already strongly hinted to Z that next year we are going to be doing a fair bit of that ourselves. Heh heh heh.
12/11 10:57, Pushkin time
I spent a decent chunk of Friday calling realtors' numbers from ads on the Inter Nets. A couple of hits, the most interesting of which wу met with in the middle of Saturday to go look at some stuff in Polkrovskaya, south of Pavlovsk, just over the Petersburg, Leningradskaya Oblast border - on the LenOblast side, as the quick transition of road quality clearly indicates. Two thingz we looked at were houses that had been built back in the mid-40s on long, narrow lots running from the road on a ridgeline down to pretty much the bottom of the valley. Neither house was particularly interesting (which need not be a problem, as the idea for such a place would be to live in it while we are building a place that we like, then tear down and have the yard space), and as it turns out, the lots really aren't shaped all that well for the kinds of places we are looking at building.
The third thing we looked at was an empty lot (empty at present due to the old schoolhouse which had been its previous tenant having burned to the ground this past January). It's in a pretty good place as far as connections to the outside world (that is, roads, electricity, telephone) are concerned. The lot is roughly square, located on the same ridge -- you begin to appreciate the merits of high ground when you start to look at property in the middle of swamplands -- and has an advertised size of 15 'sotok' (from the word 'sto' for 'hundred', a hundred square meters). We didn't carry a tape measure, and my eyes aren't really calibrated to estimate in metric, but such a space should be in the neighborhood of 40 meters on a side, and I'm not sure I believe that for this one in particular. We're going to have the agent have someone go out with a tape and get us precise boundaries, ostensibly so we can lay out our plans on them, before the discussion on it goes much further.
If I am simply mis-reading the sizes (a distinct possibility) the lot actually represents a pretty good buy, all things considered. Realtors, as well as people who don't stand to gain by convincing us to buy right away, are all in agreement that the prices on land in the vicinity of the Peterburg/LenOblast boundary are going to take a big jump as soon as the spring buying season commences. With a small crappy apartment in the city going for 85 thousand dollars, more and more people are choosing to sink half that amount into a half-acre and the other half (or less) into a home for themselves. I still want to check out the areas up more to the east-and-north of Petersburg, but I get the feeling we are getting pretty close to taking this first step. How exciting...
And yesterday we got invited over to И's place for lunch/dinner shashlik. A spoke a bit, got some good practice listening, and got to get some questions answered about buying gold and silver in Russia (short answers, "don't bother" and "very easy", respectively). The boys played well with И and К's kids; shortly after arrival, their son, who is a year older than Z, came down to excitedly relay that, 'The older one knows how to talk now!' It's true, too. This morning, dropping Z off at his preschool, I hung back long enough to hear him go over to another kid to ask he was looking at, and if he could check it out, too; imperfect grammar, but totally comprehensible. G persists -- among us at least -- in learning individual words, but not yet much in the way of sentences.
Oh yeah. They've turned on the New Year's lights along all the major roads in Pushkin, along with a light display next to the Egyptian Gate. And most every night, someone, somewhere is shooting off fireworks. This year we're probably going to be cheap, but I've already strongly hinted to Z that next year we are going to be doing a fair bit of that ourselves. Heh heh heh.
декабря 07, 2006
Not Yet
12/7 13:04, Pushkin time
We got to look at the seemingly-promising house yesterday. Unlike our Kobralovo experience, this one was in an excellent area, with water and sewer hookup only a few feet and couple hundred dollars away, electricity and telephone already run, and paved road leading almost all the way to it. However, the house is standing on no foundation that we could detect, has no private ownership papers on the land or the structure itself (the realtor tried to tell us that they are 'very easy' to get -- maybe so, but we would be paying a fair bit less for a place that doesn't have them), was unfinished in some critical ways such as having no toilet or staircases to the upper levels and an unsealed balcony leaking down into a first-floor room, and frankly had been constructed in a very half-assed manner. A and I briefly discussed our options regarding it on the way back, but basically came to realize that what we would really need to do with it was tear it down and start over. And if that's what we were going to want to do, why not look for a place that saves us the demolition step in the first place?
We've still got a couple of places to check out, but frankly, the markets have not favored us. Housing prices in Portland began to fall as we put ours up; once it sold (for less than we wanted) and the money got into our bank account, the dollar has started to slide; and the housing market in this area seems to have taken a decent jump in the past six months. It is a bit discouraging, as if we are just a bit too late for every step of the way.
Speaking of which, the recent plunge of the dollar certainly caught the attention of a fair number of people here. Where I am working, everyone (though paid in some part in rubles) works for a dollar-denominated salary. So we all took a 5% pay cut last Monday. A big reason, I think, why people here also work for a commission-percentage in addition to salary. Buying in dollars in the US and selling in rubles here means that the commission spread has improved a bit. There are other consequences, too. List prices for real estate (mostly given in dollars) were revised upwards in the neighborhood of 10% this past weekend; as the lower level persists, or when the dollar continues to fall, we can expect to see the kids' school re-priced into either rubles or euros (not with the eye to making it more expensive; but to keep their income level relatively consistent). Having the leftovers from selling a house (representing a goodly chunk of "our savings" sitting in a depreciating asset is certainly doing nothing to lighten my mood.
Not that I'm going to take И Ю's unserious advice to put all my money in rubles anytime soon...
Another event: On Tuesday, I decided I had taken my limit, and that our white car needed to be washed. So after work, I went to the car wash spot right nearby (where we got Z's puke cleaned out of the caravan a month or so back). Sitting as it does on the inconvenient side of the railroad crossing for the evening traffic, of course, there was a vacant spot right away. And while my order was being written up, the owner of the mechanic's shop right next door recognized me and invited me over to chat while I waited for the car to be finished. A very nice Armenian guy, he insisted I share his burrito-munchies and a beer with him while he, I, his buddy-from-the-Caucasus, and their Georgian mechanic socialized. The bizarre situations that come up. The Armenian had a pretty thick accent that at times verged on indecipherable (particularly when conversation moved towards the subject of politics and democracy in the US and Eurasia), but the Kavkazi were pretty easy to understand. They were all amused to no end when I told them that the generic name for a white person in the US was 'caucasian' -- they're not particularly light-skinned there, and Russians call them 'чёрные' - 'blacks'. So we talked history (the guy who I wasn't sure exactly from where he hailed is of a nationality that is the most direct descendant of the Aramaic -- so of course, they're all christian, not muslim, as he was clear to point out) and place and cops and life in general; I munched on some turkey burrito, drank some beer, and then the car was cleaned, and off I went.
We got to look at the seemingly-promising house yesterday. Unlike our Kobralovo experience, this one was in an excellent area, with water and sewer hookup only a few feet and couple hundred dollars away, electricity and telephone already run, and paved road leading almost all the way to it. However, the house is standing on no foundation that we could detect, has no private ownership papers on the land or the structure itself (the realtor tried to tell us that they are 'very easy' to get -- maybe so, but we would be paying a fair bit less for a place that doesn't have them), was unfinished in some critical ways such as having no toilet or staircases to the upper levels and an unsealed balcony leaking down into a first-floor room, and frankly had been constructed in a very half-assed manner. A and I briefly discussed our options regarding it on the way back, but basically came to realize that what we would really need to do with it was tear it down and start over. And if that's what we were going to want to do, why not look for a place that saves us the demolition step in the first place?
We've still got a couple of places to check out, but frankly, the markets have not favored us. Housing prices in Portland began to fall as we put ours up; once it sold (for less than we wanted) and the money got into our bank account, the dollar has started to slide; and the housing market in this area seems to have taken a decent jump in the past six months. It is a bit discouraging, as if we are just a bit too late for every step of the way.
Speaking of which, the recent plunge of the dollar certainly caught the attention of a fair number of people here. Where I am working, everyone (though paid in some part in rubles) works for a dollar-denominated salary. So we all took a 5% pay cut last Monday. A big reason, I think, why people here also work for a commission-percentage in addition to salary. Buying in dollars in the US and selling in rubles here means that the commission spread has improved a bit. There are other consequences, too. List prices for real estate (mostly given in dollars) were revised upwards in the neighborhood of 10% this past weekend; as the lower level persists, or when the dollar continues to fall, we can expect to see the kids' school re-priced into either rubles or euros (not with the eye to making it more expensive; but to keep their income level relatively consistent). Having the leftovers from selling a house (representing a goodly chunk of "our savings" sitting in a depreciating asset is certainly doing nothing to lighten my mood.
Not that I'm going to take И Ю's unserious advice to put all my money in rubles anytime soon...
Another event: On Tuesday, I decided I had taken my limit, and that our white car needed to be washed. So after work, I went to the car wash spot right nearby (where we got Z's puke cleaned out of the caravan a month or so back). Sitting as it does on the inconvenient side of the railroad crossing for the evening traffic, of course, there was a vacant spot right away. And while my order was being written up, the owner of the mechanic's shop right next door recognized me and invited me over to chat while I waited for the car to be finished. A very nice Armenian guy, he insisted I share his burrito-munchies and a beer with him while he, I, his buddy-from-the-Caucasus, and their Georgian mechanic socialized. The bizarre situations that come up. The Armenian had a pretty thick accent that at times verged on indecipherable (particularly when conversation moved towards the subject of politics and democracy in the US and Eurasia), but the Kavkazi were pretty easy to understand. They were all amused to no end when I told them that the generic name for a white person in the US was 'caucasian' -- they're not particularly light-skinned there, and Russians call them 'чёрные' - 'blacks'. So we talked history (the guy who I wasn't sure exactly from where he hailed is of a nationality that is the most direct descendant of the Aramaic -- so of course, they're all christian, not muslim, as he was clear to point out) and place and cops and life in general; I munched on some turkey burrito, drank some beer, and then the car was cleaned, and off I went.
декабря 05, 2006
December
12/5 11:30, Pushkin time
Let's see. Where did I leave off..?
Ah yes. The apartment we looked at. As we came to find over the weekend, unfurnished apartments can be really tough to find. But we did find a house on Sunday in a not bad area, for a not bad price, of not bad size and quality (granted, we haven't seen the house in person yet, but the ad says quite a bit. On Sunday afternoon (in full dark, of course), finding the ad, we drove out to the neighborhood in which the house is locateв to make sure it wasn't horrible, and to try to find the house itself. The roads in the area are good, the neighborhood decent, but even with the streetlights, we didn't find the one we were looking for. So I've arranged with the selling agent to go out with A sometime during the scant daylight hours to actually put an eyeball on the place and see what we think. I've been told that the price is neither a particularly great deal, nor unreasonably high, and that the area is one with very good potential of taking a jump in value in the fairly short-term, as the surrounding fields get sold and developed, and the stock of land in the neighborhood basically comes to an end. The place has its challenges (more about them as/if we move forward on this particular one), but nothing particularly drastic.
What else..
On Saturday, we had Е and his wife over for dinner. Mexican food; A has figured out how to make really good tortillas with the massive stock of mexican corn-flour we brought from the US. Dinner was well, the food was delicious, the kids behaved themselves adequately, and we both came to the conclusion that the place we are in is absolutely too small. We were able to fit the additional two people without and major contortions mainly because they were themselves very accommodating. More than two people, or with the addition of a handful of kids, and it just flat wouldn't work in the place we're in. So.
And on Sunday, we also had arranged to get together with the mom-and-kids from the boys' preschool. But, as it poured down rain for the whole morning on Sunday, she called and voiced to us the thoughts we had already had, that maybe today wasn't such a good picnic-in-the-park day. Next weekend, then.
They've really started getting serious about New Year's decorating. There are several huge [fake] trees up all over the city and in Pushkin; lights are being hung, anв the stores have massive and growing segments dedicated to the seasonal swag. Fortunately (as we were beginning to get discouraged), they do have real trees here, beginning in a couple more weeks. Good. I won't have to swallow my distaste for the plastic stuff, as I was preparing to do.
One more note. When we were at the doctor's yesterday, A made a comment about the dark this time of year. The doctor said that it's just the climate of this area. And then continued to say that the climate is pretty unpleasant during the winter; cold and dark, and that the city is built in the middle of a swamp, and that it makes no sense, since this is really a crappy place for human habitation. The dark may be getting to her, too; I notice that the baseline here is getting decidedly gloomy. The advice people give is to make sure you eat well-balanced stuff and to try to physically stand outside in the sunshine for as long as possible each day -- they say that the light though a window just isn't up to fixing moods. It could be worse. There are several Russian cities whose daylight ration for the year has already ended, and who will not be getting a sunrise until near the end of January. As it is, we're almost at the low point (they say around here the 24th, since right adjacent to the solstice, you really don't notice any difference in day lengths), and then we begin the slide up to White Nights season. G and Z are getting blackout curtains for sure.
Let's see. Where did I leave off..?
Ah yes. The apartment we looked at. As we came to find over the weekend, unfurnished apartments can be really tough to find. But we did find a house on Sunday in a not bad area, for a not bad price, of not bad size and quality (granted, we haven't seen the house in person yet, but the ad says quite a bit. On Sunday afternoon (in full dark, of course), finding the ad, we drove out to the neighborhood in which the house is locateв to make sure it wasn't horrible, and to try to find the house itself. The roads in the area are good, the neighborhood decent, but even with the streetlights, we didn't find the one we were looking for. So I've arranged with the selling agent to go out with A sometime during the scant daylight hours to actually put an eyeball on the place and see what we think. I've been told that the price is neither a particularly great deal, nor unreasonably high, and that the area is one with very good potential of taking a jump in value in the fairly short-term, as the surrounding fields get sold and developed, and the stock of land in the neighborhood basically comes to an end. The place has its challenges (more about them as/if we move forward on this particular one), but nothing particularly drastic.
What else..
On Saturday, we had Е and his wife over for dinner. Mexican food; A has figured out how to make really good tortillas with the massive stock of mexican corn-flour we brought from the US. Dinner was well, the food was delicious, the kids behaved themselves adequately, and we both came to the conclusion that the place we are in is absolutely too small. We were able to fit the additional two people without and major contortions mainly because they were themselves very accommodating. More than two people, or with the addition of a handful of kids, and it just flat wouldn't work in the place we're in. So.
And on Sunday, we also had arranged to get together with the mom-and-kids from the boys' preschool. But, as it poured down rain for the whole morning on Sunday, she called and voiced to us the thoughts we had already had, that maybe today wasn't such a good picnic-in-the-park day. Next weekend, then.
They've really started getting serious about New Year's decorating. There are several huge [fake] trees up all over the city and in Pushkin; lights are being hung, anв the stores have massive and growing segments dedicated to the seasonal swag. Fortunately (as we were beginning to get discouraged), they do have real trees here, beginning in a couple more weeks. Good. I won't have to swallow my distaste for the plastic stuff, as I was preparing to do.
One more note. When we were at the doctor's yesterday, A made a comment about the dark this time of year. The doctor said that it's just the climate of this area. And then continued to say that the climate is pretty unpleasant during the winter; cold and dark, and that the city is built in the middle of a swamp, and that it makes no sense, since this is really a crappy place for human habitation. The dark may be getting to her, too; I notice that the baseline here is getting decidedly gloomy. The advice people give is to make sure you eat well-balanced stuff and to try to physically stand outside in the sunshine for as long as possible each day -- they say that the light though a window just isn't up to fixing moods. It could be worse. There are several Russian cities whose daylight ration for the year has already ended, and who will not be getting a sunrise until near the end of January. As it is, we're almost at the low point (they say around here the 24th, since right adjacent to the solstice, you really don't notice any difference in day lengths), and then we begin the slide up to White Nights season. G and Z are getting blackout curtains for sure.
