Time Machine
Many sizes it is both round and square
It tracks our life with no moment to spare.
It ticks, it tocks, with no end in sight
It sits on our wrist with all it might.
Hold on for the ride with either metal or leather
Heavy as a brick or light as a feather
Under water it works or maybe not
Oh no it stopped I will loose my spot
Always a good friend so near and dear
Without it, I know, there is much to fear
It’s nice to be back. After buying a new apartment, moving in and filing tons of paperwork regarding status, I was all set to re-engage with redcanjournal.com. And then the Covid struck. It was a struggle to be sure and I scared all that count into the next universe multiple times. I am progressing and to be sure getting better.
I wanted to get back to the original plan of sharing unique Vladivostok experiences via photos, art and words. To that end I have been motivated to start a new project. I will start posting pictures of interest drawn in and around our neighborhoods of Russkaya and Balayeva. These pictures are drawn in the spirit of the Urban Sketchers, their motto being in part “show the world one painting at a time”. I will attempt to publish more frequently with new material but please give me some leeway for the snow, ice and cold which will surely arrive soon.
The first drawing above was drawn after a haircut in the Balayeva area on Oct 1. The day was sunny and warm. I’m calling it Red Sheds. These sheds are all over Vladivostok and especially in the older sections. They store anything from automobiles to odds and ends. I was intrigued by the color they were painted as well as the inter-action of the electrical tower so close by.
Turner I’m not, but enthused just the same.
Everything has a beginning. It all started back in 1994 when the need to understand some elementary Russian language took on a life of its own. It started innocently enough with a cassette tape course in beginners Russian. I did get as far as the letters A, M, K, O, T. Then I moved to Germany, Guten Tag! Again in my overwhelming need to learn the elements of conversational Russian, it quietly sneaked into my gray cells. This time on 905 cd tapes (only kidding). With hard work and diligent study, paced between copious amounts of Bitburger Pils, I was pleased to confirm I obtained fluency in the Russian letters of A, M, K, O, T. Progress to be sure.
Crunch time had arrived. My fluency in the 5 letters, learned very well, along with an occasional Zdastvooyte, Preevyet, Dobriy vyecher and Mne zhal all got me through until February 2020. Then it happened. I was moving to Russia. I need to learn the language post haste. I found numerous Russian language aids like:
I moved to Atlanta and learned to speak southern. Howdy all! All the while, lurking deep in the confines of my mind were A, M, K, O, T!
Fast forward to my arrival at Domodedovo on a late Friday afternoon from London. I had scripted out a basic hello conversation which prompted a 2 hour discussion with the very efficient Border Control Agents centered around prolific use of Da’s, Nyet’s, Sorry I don’t speak Russian and a Welcome to Miami under my breath. After arriving in Vladivostok my extensive knowledge of A, M, K, O, T letters did serve me well. After 4 months here in my adopted land, I have gravitated from A foreigner, to THE American, to OUR American. The miles between the and our is immeasurable.
My study habits have changed a bit. I do my vocabulary flash cards, my Cyrillic alphabet practice, my sentence construction and my word palatalization ( you try it 🤯). I have been embraced warmly here. The locals see me trying with the little I know and I actually solicit anywhere between a up-turned lip, a scowl, or a genuine smile. I know I am making progress when my dearest mother-in-law tells my wife he actually knows some Russian!!
My Date With a Russian….Language is fickle. The more attention she gets, the stronger her gentle embrace.
Our American….I think a statue is in order.
We are going mentally into a far and cold land. The temperature can get as low as -52°c or -62°f. Yup, which way to the pool?
During our travels we hopped into an Uber driven by the very distinguished Sultan Sergei. He is part Chechen and part Yakut. This area also know as Yakutia or The Republic of Sahka. This is one of the coldest regions on the planet.
Sultan Sergei is 37 years old and has lived in Vladivostok for 5 years. He is married with 2 children. He runs an importing company as well as driving for Uber. We were lucky to be picked up by Sultan Sergei. He was a breath of fresh air with his desire to speak English. Quite good in fact.
What makes this special to me is the uniqueness and depth of the people we meet day in and day out, just by chance. A quote by Avijeet Das goes like this…
“We meet so many people in life, but we connect to the heart of very few!”
We are sure we had a connection to the point of not wanting to get out of the car.
Ok. It’s 16° F.
There is no way I’m walking around outside to take street snaps. So I’m standing in the kitchen up against the radiator and looking out the window. Classic man and dog against white snow and ice. Hum, what else is there? Light and shadow on a white park. Interesting.
I’m reading an engaging book called Zen Camera: Creative Awakening with a Daily Practice in Photography by David Ulrich and published by Watson-Guptill. Those of you who know me can appreciate my feelings when considering anything “Zen” however Ulrich has impressed upon me (so far in my reading) a number of important additives to make life more dynamic:
He states regarding creativity;
“since the world is always new — no moment ever repeats itself — you must flexibly adapt behind a camera”
As I try to manage the newness of each day, with varying degrees of success, I learn that I must approach the struggles with an open mind and love the flexibility I need to get to the other side. As the saying goes “we’re not in Kansas anymore”.
The snap above is of an old apartment building used by the railway department. Railroad management and staff would have individual and shared apartments. If I understood correctly, there were 7 or 8 buildings of this type in the early day of Balyaeva Str. It currently has normal apartment dwellers residing there. I tried to do a painting of this building, but with little success.
I bet it holds alot of mystery. It sure looks like it.
As we hunker down into the beginnings of winter, I need to find away to express the personality of my adopted city. I will continue to do the “street photography” thing when I can, but have decided to create lyrics and prosody to cope with the cold and snow. I am particularly fascinated with the street (Ulitsa) that I live on. Balyaeva Str. for me is a bastion of energy amid the cars, potholes and general malaise that a frozen winter brings.
As I strolled up and down Balyaeva, both to buy bread and to get a modicum of exercise, the most common event is the daily crossing with the local folks. Everyone on their way to or from something important. Always the same path either left or right heading to some point. As is normal everywhere.
The cars aligned with their angry eyes facing each other,
each waiting, daring each other, to speak first.
All the while the speed bumps choose to slow the flight
of the machines that seek their way.
The precious Babushka, The Teenager, The small Child
all slowly walk, amber on and run like the devil daring life
to be an equal partner in the day’s push.
Precious, unseen moments, combine together to create
the great orchestrations of the daily toil.
All leading to the heart and soul of Balyaeva,
the store on the corner.
I hope to add new dimensions to the surroundings I find myself in. I went looking for a musical signature for Balyaeva which represented the day’s snow and ice. As I searched, I blundered into a short piece written by Sergei Rachmaninoff, a Russian composer, pianist and conductor. Oh My Corn Fields. This piece was written in 1897. The mood of the song captured the mingling of the snow, ice, people and hope that is my dear Balyaeva.
Please Balyaeva, embrace me as well!
Ok. We all love to eat!
Moving to this fascinating land my palate has at times has been overwhelmed with some very delicious meals. There is a great difference in the taste of food. More natural, less sweet, less salt with flavor I am not used to. There are few “grocery” type stores with goods and products sold by small, individually owned market stands. The people who manage these culinary store fronts are the salt of the earth and come from exotic places such as Tajikistan and Uzbekistan and Kyrgyzstan, all former southern Soviet Republics.
Which brings me to Georgia. No not the “Atlanta” Georgia, but the country of the same name.
Located at the crossroads of Western Asia and Eastern Europe, it is bounded to the west by the Black Sea, to the north by Russia, to the east by Azerbaijan, and to the south by Armenia and Turkey. Thank you Wikipedia for the geography positioning.
Sooo, my normal idea of food delivery concerns itself with Sausage Pizza and various versions of Chinese. When my wife ask if we should do delivery I naturally said sure.
Little did I expect this;
This unique and super tasting food are known as Khinkali. These Georgian dumplings, which originated in the mountains of Pshavi, Tusheti and Khevsureti are filled with spicy meat and broth. Very good and enjoyable. If i understand the eating procedure correctly, you grab the stem, turn the Khinkali over and squeeze gently and take a bite. It worked, almost. I will save you the details. Anyhow the food is epic. Also ordered shish-cabob, stuffed eggplant and numerous pizza like disks with mushroom, beef, cheese. One better tasting than the other.
Khinkali…How many pancakes with the Moo Shu Pork?
And I quote Raisa M. Gorbachev, “Youth is, after all, just a moment, but it is the moment, the spark, that you always carry in your heart.”
At the end of September we were taking a late afternoon stroll down by Naberezhnaya Ulitsa. As we walked along the shore line, my attention was drawn away from the sea and onto a group of young lads at a small skate park. As I took a few snaps I was intrigued by the seamless lack of fear these boys had as they launched into the air with unearthly angles.
My dear friend in Atlanta has a wonderful 4 1/2 year old son who has all the energy of the Universe in his small frame. I was filled with amazement when his Dad would suggest they head off to the big skate park with a plethora of bikes and razors.
We can be sure that the wonderment of youth heading off in 35 degree angles of dips, slides and jumps is the same in Vladivostok as it is in Atlanta. That gives me hope.
If I were only 15 again!…What could happen?
“No one looking… right?”