Mold Star Chili

Saturday was my night to cook and represent the United States for my roommates and some other friends, of course I can't represent the entire USA because it is so diverse, but I used my Kentucky and Cincinnati pride and represented my little part of the world. Shopping for the ingredients was a real trip, in part because the Russian-English dictionary doesn't have a lot of cooking terms, some things come differently in Russia, and some just don't exist-but thanks to Orlando's help I made due with what I had, made a few substitutions, and got what I needed. I made Cincinnati Chili: 3 ways! There seems to be no way of finding Cheddar Cheese in my part of Moscow, but the Russian guda(sp) cheese did OK. It all turned out pretty damn good, it tasted like Cincinnati Chili, a little on the spicy side, but it was really good; not quite Skyline, but definitely good enough to represent the dish and to even get a round of applause from all of the at first skeptical, but afterwards very satisfied eaters. Everybody loved it! They all said it was really good, and all went for second helpings. I felt very proud of both my work and of being from Cincinnati. I then followed the chili up with opening and sharing one of the bottles of Maker's Mark I had brought to be used as gifts (the other still will, but I figure my roommates needed some too. I figured bourbon was the perfect representative of Kentucky, especially some good bourbon. (It was the best bourbon I've ever tasted!) Overall I think they all really liked the bourbon, a few couldn't really handle it and had to cut it with water, but most talked about its “sour mash” (not with that term of course) taste, and it being really good. A few really wanted seconds, but there wasn't enough to go around. The chili and bourbon was so good that a couple of the people added KY and Cincinnati to their list of places to visit in America. It wasn't all fun for my friends though, they had to sit through my talk about Cincinnati and Kentucky history, about being split and lost between North and South, and all that shit. But overall I was really proud to be a Kentuckian from the South side of Cincinnati, I wanted to sing “My Old Kentucky Home,” and if I would have somehow just then heard it being sung before a Wildcat football game I probably would have cried. I wish I had me a KY flag. We definitely have our faults in the USA, KY, and Cincy, but being away and representing them really makes me respect them and want to change them for the better. I don't think we're done, just kinda lost and need to find our way; there are many good things about my home, and we need to work together to change the bad. Friends, we need to work to begin the change today. Register to vote, get your friends and family to register, ask them if they like what they see happening in our country and state: credit crises, corporate welfare, but no help for individuals, a falling dollar, imperialism etc... and get them to vote for Obama and Lunsford,and some progressive leadership in Frankfort, Columbus, and DC. Obama and the Democrats are far, far from perfect or even “progressive,” but they are better than the current status quo alternative, and after their election provide a better platform from which to work and build a New America. We need to educate. We need to campaign for progressives and even run for local offices ourselves, even if we don't win we spread the word and educate. The United States has always been a nation of advancement, ingenuity, and progress; together we can build a strong and prosperous nation in which children can do better than their parents, find meaningful employment after graduation, afford simple medical procedures and insurance, and attend college without the great specter of eternal debt hanging above their head. So eat some chili and sip some bourbon for me, remember your friends, who you are and where you are from: but never forget that you are no better than anyone else: Mexican, French, German, Iraqi or Chinese. We have but one world, and from our little part of it we must make the whole better. Sorry if you don't like political rants, I just see a fading light that doesn't need to expire; and if you disagree with my views, send me a link to your blog and we'll be even.

Собачки Москвы

I struggle to stroll about Moscow viewing the many beautiful sights without having my heart broken. There are thousands, I estimate (with no real evidence, simply a guess) that there are well more than 100,000 stray dogs in Moscow. They mostly look rather similar to one another, some type of shepard or hound mix of medium size, I really can't tell, but sometimes you see one resembling a Chow, or some type of terrier; however they all have a look about them and you can tell they are Russian and one of Moscow's Dogs-much like how you can often tell a Russian by the look in their eye regardless of race or ethnic background. It is hard to describe and guess how many of these dogs live in the city, you can hardly walk about a Metro station without seeing one or two. One is sleeping in the corner by a kiosk while another sits outside in a patch of grass near the stairs watching the people go by. It is also interesting to note that in my three weeks here I have only seen one feral cat, a scarcity that may be related to the preponderance of dogs roaming the same streets; or maybe the cats are more shy and keep to the shadows and alleys, I don't know. From what I understand from asking around, Moscow has no type of animal control, shelters, or programs to help or eradicate the dogs. They simply live on their own in the big city, begging scraps, rummaging through garbage, befriending a kind person for a bite to eat, and seeking out a warm, dry place to sleep. The life for these dogs can not be easy; I've heard stories that laboratories and different groups capture them for experiments and product testing since nobody really cares and they are cheap and abundant. They seem to live and roam mostly alone, though they are commonly seen sleeping in pairs, but only once have I seen what could be described as a “pack.” There were 6-8 of them, trotting with tails and heads held high; one obviously being the top dog walking out in front, and another limping along, but keeping up in the middle of the pack and seemingly unperturbed, on three legs. They seem to be mostly friendly, (though as I was trying to photograph one today-the perfect picture of one by the Metro stairs- he barked at me, it was the first time I'd ever heard one bark or express any sort of displeasure) sometimes timid, sometimes bold and with little concern of the people walking by, they always seem intelligent and with good knowledge of life in the big city. They know where people eat, they know where people don't walk, they know how to disappear, and even how to cross a 6 (or more) lane boulevard. They know they can cross major intersections with the underground crosswalks or Metro stations (I'm yet to see one actually ride the trains, but I don't doubt that they do), and I've also seen one sit patiently at a crosswalk and cross only after the light turned green! It is worth noting that they never seem too thin, overly mangy, or wearing the scars of battles, though they're never overweight or well groomed either, nor do they seem sad or disgruntled at their lot; they are truly Russian, they take the cards they are dealt, trudge along and make the most of that which is life. As for their fellow Muscovites, the human ones, the dogs seem mostly ignored, just part of the Metro, sidewalk, city, and scenery, much like the babushkas selling flowers, herbs or other trinkets. They go mostly unnoticed, and I am given peculiar stares from people for looking upon the dogs with obvious sympathy or for photographing one; it is only rarely that I see a person give one attention, and even then it has always been a poor and lonely looking old man wearing his old Soviet ribbons on his well-worn jacket offering the dog a crust of stale bread, talking cheerfully to it as if a child relative: “Привет собачка! Как дела?” almost hoping that the dog will reply and speak of the days before Gorbachev when he held some important position or another in the bureaucracy of this ministry or that. In another place or time these dogs could be some child's best friend or hold an important position in this family or that, but as it is they are just quiet, well-adapted, adorable, and overlooked pieces of the massive system that is Moscow; in which people never stop moving, a square meter to oneself is cherished and a quiet corner is feverishly prayed for.

On a more personal note: today (the day I wrote this 9/16/08) I got rather discouraged with a poor performance in class after studying the chapter hard last night, the language barrier in part involving a security guard lecturing me about God knows what and a girl who just kept talking about something (maybe good, maybe bad, I don't know), and had just an overall case of feeling down. It was one of those things where I was a little tired, it was cold, I thought I was beginning to feel sick, and everything just kinda sucked; I started feeling annoyed at a lot of the Russian horseshit, my inabilities with language and partaking in the horseshit, the mullets (I want to make signs of a mullet silhouette with a big red circle and slash through it and the word “HET” in giant letters and put them around the city), and maybe even a touch of homesickness-I really wanted a cheeseburger, to communicate (though I've developed an obsession with expressing disdain in ways in which people can't understand-everyone knows the major English curses-so far 'bite it' is my fav). It was just one of those days. Then after a little nap, some homework, and some Wu-Tang I put on some underarmour, a hoodie and my big flannel and rode my skateboard to Юго-Западная, took a few pictures of dogs, and had me a Big Mac. It was the best Big Mac I've had in my entire life, it tasted good (about the same as one in KY) but meant so much more to me at that point. The McDonald's experience was hilarious in itself, the place was packed with maybe a 10 minute line even though they had about 10 registers open. When I got to the teller, a teenager named Aleksandr, I understood 'here or to go' but he didn't understand my здесь (here) and annoyingly pulled out the picture menu! Then when I said “Big Mac” (more like 'Beeg Makk') Aleksandr corrected me 'Beek Maak,' and I thought to myself, “c'mon Sasha, who's the American here? I think I know how to say Big Mac.” But either way the Big Mac and fries was glorious, and only about $3.50, much less than I was willing to pay for a respite and slice of Americana. After I returned home I realized that I felt totally different than I had just a few hours before, I was 'refilled' (do I have to pay you royalties for that Turpin?). So as I lay here on my bed typing this I feel absolutely confident and ready for whatever tomorrow will throw at me, I feel content, happy, and lucky to be where I am-I miss my dog, but I did just write a thing about dogs-but I feel really good. I think it was the ride on the skateboard that did it, and even though I neither attempted nor turned not a single trick it felt really good and very natural just rolling and pushing. Earlier today while staring out a window daydreaming during my class break I asked myself who and what I am, and I now realize that I am a skateboarder now and probably forever, whether I skate everyday, once a year, or even never see a board at all. It is a part of my being and who I am, it makes me feel whole. When I have my skateboard I feel more confident, let the worries of life melt away, and express myself in a universal language nobody needs to understand but myself, I feel like Joe Dees(z), not the scared and confused dude with the blank stare on his face as shit goes on around him. That may be pretty lame or whatever, but 'bite it,' it makes sense to me.

This has become really long, sorry. But I read that there were some pretty serious storms with some gnarly wind back home, so I really hope everybody and everything is alright-if you're dead send me an email and let me know it's all good. I also realized I haven't told about going to the soccer game (awesome), but I'll save that for later this week or so. I also just realized I forgot to transfer the dog pictures from my camera, so they'll have to be posted later.

Pics of my friends

The first picture is of some of my friends at the Kremlin-from left to right: Celine (the scowler), Juliet, Virginie, Amandin, Karsten (the German). The other pic is drunk in the Metro after Moscow City Day-l-r: Virginie, Juliet, Karsten, and Celine. They are all great and a lot of fun, and there are more "characters" not in the photos, but I'd say these are my closest friends here. I hang out most with Karsten and Celine, just because they like to drink beer and play cards/dice. I'm also starting the typically Deezian task of handing out nicknames: so far there is a French guy named Yuri (who may become Koopa), a French girl named CiCi, a French guy named Gitu, and my roommate Guy is Little Romeo.

Weekend in LA

I've had a very eventful weekend, it is endless excitement in the [I'm still working on a name for our flat]. I've decided that I will from now on write my blog entries at home offline and copy paste them later (did I say that in a previous entry?) Anyways I am currently sitting at the kitchen table listening to the Killers on our “kitchen stereo” (an old computer Orlando finagled from a neighbor) watching Orlando stab at the glacial ice accumulations in our fridge/freezer with a giant foot long knife- our fridge got so much ice that it will no longer close and is dripping water everywhere. And though this is not innately that humorous, it is of great amusement to me. Less amusing, or maybe more depending on how you look at it, but of great excitement was Friday night. First I walked into the bathroom to brush my teeth before going out (the door was open) and while brushing I hear someone talking to me from behind-it was Orlando relaxing in a bubble bath-I almost choked on my toothbrush from surprise and uncontrollable laughter. Then later I went out to a bar with the French and Karsten(the German) where we met up with the French girls, but had to be back in the dorm by 1am, so we moved the Party home to our kitchen. It was me, Gui, Orlando, and Karsten, with 5 French women: (I'm sorry I butcher their names both verbally and in spelling) Virginie, Juliet, Amandin, Celine, and Natalie. At about 3am the building's security women burst into our flat and busted us (the French) for smoking; saying absolutely nothing about the loud music, vodka, beer, drunkenness, etc. As a result we had to go before the Commandant and apologize, promising to behave better in the future, and Celine (a most interesting character: very dark, always wearing a scowl, drinks heavily, chain-smokes, but is extremely warm and friendly when you get through the rough exterior and befriend her) must write a letter explaining herself and asking forgiveness-absolutely hilarious. In all there was no real trouble, just a lot of fun.
Saturday was the “Day of Moscow” festivities and celebration, in which there are all kinds of performances, ado, events; Moscow closes some streets so that people can walk around everywhere and stuff like that. So yesterday I made my first trek to the city center, had my first glimpse of the Bolshoi, the Kremlin, Lubyanka, St Basil's, etc, but not a great look due to the crowd and festivities. We got down there too late for the big party (we were playing football(soccer) and got a late start, but we still got to walk around, see the decorations (being taken down) and could stand in the middle of a 6 lane street drinking beer. It was truly incredible, all of the people, all of the excitement, the atmosphere and everything. Karsten and I were possibly the coolest guys in the whole city; it was the two of us with 5 beautiful French women. We met some Russian soccer hooligans who were disappointed that I was an American that hated all war, and that Karsten was a German that did not like Hitler; then when I explained why explained to them why “nigger” (their favorite word) was bad, they only liked it more. It was a rather disheartening experience. But for the most part the night was very good, drinking with the French girls and doing “Metro gymnastics” (where you do flips and shit using the Metro's handrails). I was also reminded of one thing I love about the USA: bathrooms are free and aplenty, I really don't know what Europe has against letting you piss.
I have also been given a new job: I 'translate' (explain) the slang in American music for Karsten and the French, they will seek me out or call me and ask stuff like, “In the Red Hot Chili Pepper song... he says 'cop a feel' what does that mean?”; and I have taken it upon myself to teach them some slang such as “sausage fest” and “pimping;” as well some good Deezian slang such as “lurking nasty.” I play off the Deezian slang as if it is common, yet the one French girl Juliet seems to know the difference and doesn't care to learn the Deezian, but Karsten on the other hand loves my turns of phrase and is beginning to use some!
As for school and my Russian, things are getting better. My teacher has realized that I do know stuff, and it's just a matter of not being able to understand spoken words yet, and me being timid to speak because my accent is so bad and nearly uninterpretable by the Russians. So far I'm having the time of my life and am feeling 5 years younger-I feel like I'm in the Little House in the Ghetto again, only with stranger characters (maybe) and more/prettier women always around. Celine and a few Russian girls even invited me to go out tonight, but I'm not quite recovered from the last two nights. It's as Mike Kerner once said of Lexington: “it must be some parallel universe, people actually think Joe Dees is cool.” Or maybe I'm just a novelty-but either way I like the attention.

On the left (I think-if this works properly) Is the commemoration to the conquering of space. On the right is the giant statue of Yuri Gagarin at Ploshad' Gagarina. FYI: Yuri Gagarin was the first human in space-and yes I did realize that all of my tourism so far has been Kosmos related. I was going to go to Khrushchev's grave today, but instead I've been working on my computer, I'm giving everything I have to fixing it. I think I may ride the old "skatboad" here in a minute to relax-the weather is absolutely perfect today.

Ok, so I've arrived in Moscow in one piece without any major issues, other than the crippling, but improving, jet-lag. My hostel does not have internet, and due to a computer issue I had a little problem locating the interweb, and I still have some problems keeping connections. Where to begin? My housing, it was supposed to be free, and I was told so by Evgenii Vladimirovich, but I've been charged some 220 Ruble fee by the scary ladies who run the building, but 220 rubles is only about $9 so I'll just let it go. But I am holding off on paying another day or so, last night they sent these two beautiful Russian women up to collect from one of the Frenchmen, they can collect from me anyday!!! The room is OK, it is kinda like an old style Soviet Communal apartment where there is a common kitchen and bathroom for the two rooms. In room A lives 4 Frenchmen: Matheu(sp) a nice guy with an honest smile and decent English abilities; Fredreich(sp) just moved in yesterday and I haven't spoken with him; Quinten(sp) a very nice, shy, nerdy, but friendly guy whose English seems limited; and Orlando, one of the strangest people I've met, but very nice in that French kind of way, he speaks near fluent English and Russian, as well as quite a bit of German-he is really quite the character seemingly knowing everyone in the building. I live in room 'B' (I need to enable the Russian characters) with another Frenchmen named Guillermo(sp) who is rather funny and speaks good English; and with a German named Karlsen(sp) who is awesome, he speaks exceptional English as well as pretty good Russian. Karlsen is a bigtime football (soccer) fan, we plan to see games together, but he has also been extremely helpful to me by helping to translate for me, he accompanied me to the office with the scary ladies as well as to the cellphone store (I was informed by 3 different officials that a cell phone was necessary) we must be quite the pair, a German who repeatedly asks for things to be repeated translating for an American who has one of the best (I don't mean to brag but I think I've gotten pretty good at it) blank stares this side of the Moskva River. I have also been told that I am the ONLY American on campus, so it gives me a good excuse as well as a novelty aspect. More about the flat, it is pretty cool, the guys are all cool and very helpful, the French love to cook and are possibly the only reason I am not starving, I've had trouble adjusting I must admit, as well as trouble adjusting to the fromage (sp), my stomach is all kinds of jacked and my shitake cycle is weird if you get what I'm saying-which reminds me that packing my toilet paper was among the best decisions I've ever made, even the “good” stuff at the stores here is like you'd find in the rest area bathroom, I just pray I packed enough. Did I mention the roaches? I am in what is considered one of the “best” dorms, which is reserved for good Russian students and western Europeans, but by American standards it is pretty low, but I really don't mind, I think it's OK, especially when I hear that students of darker skin are given far less and subject to the police harassment-it makes me feel rather sad honestly, and I look upon the little roaches (they're only about a centimeter long) as a minor inconvenience, though I find it odd that they don't scurry when you hit the lights, I guess they feel entitled to the night.

As to language, I have found that my Russian is extremely deficient, and today I was placed in the beginner classes with students who only have 1 to 2 months Russian experience! I honestly think I can do better and know more than it has seemed so far, or maybe I'm just retarded, I don't know. I feel like I've worked too hard for a year or so now to only be a basic beginner. I am extremely scared to speak and come off as very shy and apprehensive. Maybe I am just odd, because I can read signs faster than my German “translator.” I think I just need some mental switch to flick on, in which I will begin to hear sentences rather than words. All and all it is extremely disheartening, and at times frustrating, I can't figure out what to do. I just don't think I've learned how to utilize what I know. As I said before, I have mastered the blank stare, and others have found that if they write what they are saying in simple words I understand, or stick to short phrases. As of now I am greatly indebted to Evgenii, his assistant Diana, Karlsen, and Orlando for their help, without them I would be destitute and done. Overall, everybody has been extremely helpful, friendly, and patient.

Now to the city, the city of Moscow is one of the most beautiful in the world; outside of some of the dilapidated Soviet architecture(which interests me), there are many beautiful buildings, as well as a plethora of trees and flowers, it is so colorful I wonder how people could have described it as drab-maybe some buildings, but whatever. And this is not to mention the beautiful women that are seen everywhere. Moscow is a very diverse city, you see people of all races and ethnicities and the women are all gorgeous regardless. I could type forever about them: their airs, confident struts, and most magnificently striking and boisterous eyes; their eyes all seem to tell a story and are definitely windows into their souls, moods, and every thought and emotion, it is incredible. I only wonder why this phenomenon is so rare in American women. Back to the city. It is also apparent and obvious that capitalism has taken hold well in the Russian people, they love advertising, labels, and as many shops and vendors as you can cram into a space, yet they still revere their Soviet past. At one point when Orlando referred to Stalin as a criminal, the Russian girls we were with became rather offended and upset-yet people always find it strange that I have an interest in Khrushchev- I don't know, maybe it is strange, but maybe the strangeness is what intrigues me so. So I've only ventured out from campus once, I am saving the Kremlin for a later date, and I went to the old All Soviet Expo Center, now the All Russian Expo Center. I could write about it for hours, with its once proud buildings representing the Soviet Republics now falling into disrepair, and its centerpiece theater, once a palace to Communism's accomplishments, now with graffiti that reads “Nirvana Cobaine 4 evr” is filled with its intent's antithesis- a shopping mall. But it was still neat, Lenin still stood watch surrounded by hammers and sickles, the one fountain was still gorgeous while the other, flanked by old Aeroflot Tupelev planes and a space rocket(Soviet technological achievement), is filled with trash and algae, it made me rather pensive, a perfect mood for what I was viewing. A place once revered and shown off for all foreign dignitaries to see the greatness of the USSR, now struggling to find its place in 21^st Century Russia, too meaningful still to destroy, but largely unneeded. Next to the Expo center was the monument to the conquering of the Cosmos, breathtakingly set in a luscious park, marble everywhere, statues, and plaques culminating with the giant monument. I'll see if I can post a few pictures. Here is where I first met the Militsia (police) apparently the main part was closed for repairs, but he was still kind enough to allow me to take pictures-I was rather surprised by his cordialness and kindness, he was even patient with my poor Russian. Or maybe he just saw the absolute wonderment and awe in my eyes? But it was good to see that the Soviet's accomplishments in space, as well as this park/monument is still cared for and respected. Anyways, I am sorry this first post was so big, though I could make it bigger. I have no class tomorrow, so maybe I will go to Novodevichy and see Khrushchev's grave. The weather has sucked a bit, off and on showers and kinda cold. And my knee hurts, as do my feet from an insane amount of walking. OK, that's enough for now, I'll post more later. Random thought: I've really been digging Operation Ivy; coupled with the noise canceling headphones (which saved me on the plane) are like a piece of heaven in an old Soviet dormitory.