Living, Teaching and Enjouing Life

It seems as if it was a very long time ago our plane landed in Moscow. In reality it has only been six months. Those six months however have been filled with experiences that have made the time pass by very quickly. Adventures in the metro, fire works at New Year, teaching and traveling around this city, learning a smattering of Russian and meeting new people and making new friends. Time is captured in laughter and conversations are remembered in moments passed at the various schools.

If I could say one word that would sum up my experience so far it would be the word enjoyable. Oh some days are better than others. When you start teaching at nine in the morning and your day is split and you don't get home until ten thirty at night it can be tiring. You grab a snack, think about going to bed, decide you can't sleep yet and surf the Russian TV channels for a scrap of news or a movie you can sort of understand. You fall into bed hoping the alley cats don't screech too loud or the metro train might miraculously be silent as it rumbles passed your flat.

A new day dawns and it blends into a week and before you have time to think it is Friday. Catch up on the laundry, do some shopping, cook a real meal and meet some friends and Monday arrives in no time. There are always interesting stories to be told about classes and students and the whole range of experiences we have as teachers in Moscow. Another week comes to an end and sometimes we say goodbye to those who move on to other jobs in other countries or go back home to school and family. It is a never- ending cycle of work and play and work and play.

Last week John and I happened to meet some fellow teachers who were trying to get near Red Square to see the celebrations for May 9th. We were trapped underground and could not get near the celebrations. The police were guarding the exits out of the metro and we soon learned you needed a special ticket to get into Red Square. Sergeant Terri said she knew the way out and we began a trek through the underground and ended up standing on a street with a bunch of other people waiting for something to happen. Nothing did so off we went in search of food and drink. We found both and by the time we noticed some action a couple of blocks up from where we were sitting we had also discovered some very nice vodka in small bottles. The day had improved a great deal! We watched as the demonstration parade walked passed and soon I was in the middle of the parade taking some wonderful character pictures. Soon we were all walking along with the parade of people and I began talking with a Russian lady who explained Nicholas the Second to me. It was all very impromptu but some of the best days are those that are not planned.

We got sun burned, had a great day and later that evening, dog tired and ready to sleep, John and I sat on the window ledge in our bedroom and watched fire works going off all around the city. The people in the park near by our flat cheered and yelled with pleasure at each colorful explosion. We fell asleep listening to a group of men singing Russian songs in the courtyard outside of our building.

There are many challenges to face when you leave your native country and go to work in another place far away from all that you are familiar with. Living here in Moscow and teaching people to speak and understand English has been made enjoyable because of their acceptance of me plus the fact that together we accomplish mutual goals. Working with other teachers, who have always been supportive and helpful, adds to the pleasure of being here.

After a rest on Friday we were geared up and ready to leave our flat Saturday morning for a trip aboard the Tolstoy Train to visit his estate at Yasnaya Polyana. Terry, Sara, Sara, Andrew, Maria and Anne, joined us on the trip. We arrived at the Kursky station and proceeded to find our way around to the ticket booth. We ended up on the wrong platform but with the formidable abilities of the two Sara's and Terri, finally found ourselves boarding the first class car of a very comfortable train. As we glided out of the city and into the countryside we all breathed a relaxed sigh and agreed that the money we had spent on our tickets was worth it. An hour into the three-hour journey John pulled his packsack down from the overhead rack and we began to feast on his now internationally famous chicken wings. On the overhead television sets Tolstoy's "Resurrection" played as we ate. Maria promised to lend me the book, which she said she had enjoyed immensely. I was definitely getting in the mood for a visit to this man's home.

Arriving at the station at Kozolva Zaseka we were relaxed and eager to go forth. We boarded one of the waiting buses and within a very short time were outside of the gates of Tolstoy's estate. I looked across the large pond and up toward the expanse of the fields, orchards and forests and I immediately felt as if I had stepped back in time. I wondered if Tolstoy's spirit wandered the pathways or sat by the pond. I wondered what he might think of the groups of people gathered to go on tours of what once was his very private domain?

The house tours were interesting and one can imagine the births and the deaths and the history of the family that once lived, loved and died inside the now silent walls. Furniture, pictures, books, writing supplies, a wheel chair, grand pianos, and tableware set the stage in antique style. However it is not overly ornate and something of the simple tastes of the man emerges as one walks through the houses. For the price of fifty rubles I was able to take any number of pictures inside the houses. This photo memory will add to my understanding of all that I saw, especially the photo of the bed that Checkov slept in!

Although the houses were interesting I found that the splendor of the trip was found in walking the grounds. The apple orchards were in full bloom and the promise of life filled each step. Trees reached for the sky and as the wind blew through their branches mottled shadows danced along the path leading our troupe towards Tolstoy's Tomb. As we walked deeper into the woods I thought that they seemed rather magical and I imagined what it must have been like to play here as a child. A young Russian woman, who spoke English very well, had told me earlier that when Tolstoy was a boy he and his bother were sure there was a "Fairy Stick" buried somewhere in these woods. The story goes that he and his brother spent many fine hours searching the woods for this treasure. Apparently the place where he is buried is where this ancient magic stick lies.

As we neared the burial ground we saw a group of people standing quietly around it. To our surprise it was a simple, tranquil place set on a small flat plateau in the middle of the forest. The grass-covered mound was Irish green and a few brightly colored spring flowers lay atop it. Tall trees stood guard all around and the forest seemed hushed in reverence. We all agreed this was a fitting place for the man to rest. As we walked back through the woods I found a little stick and picked it up, a simple piece of wood that carries the memories of a young boy's imagination.

Back at the train station Anne and Maria unpacked a fine picnic feast. We were all seated on some nice green grass, feeling very relaxed and happy and quite ready to dig into yet another meal. Suddenly a tall blond woman approached us and told us that we could not sit on the grass! After being in the woods all day we could not believe that now we would be jarred back into the reality of cement and benches! Grumbling as we packed up our feast and annoyed at being interrupted the joy of the day seemed to be fading fast. We moved to the nearest bench in the parking lot and began once again to unpack only to be interrupted yet again by the same woman! This time however she was telling us to go and sit at the table and chairs she had brought out for us! Soon we were gathered around a lovely setting of food and friendship enjoying each other and reminiscing about our day. We all thought it would be worth it to come again and spend the night and have much more time just to walk the grounds or to take a horseback ride in the fields.

Tired, full and relaxed we boarded the train and headed back to Moscow. We all nodded off at some point in that journey. I watched an old film about Tolstoy that included his funeral. It was odd to look at the flickering back and white footage of the tranquil place I had just visited. I thought I heard the people crying.

I have always held the philosophy that living should be as pleasurable of an experience as is possible. I have been fortunate to meet others who help fulfill such promise. Living, teaching and enjoying life here in Moscow is providing me with stories that will fill many hours around the table with family and friends in Canada. What more could one ask of ones life experiences?

Lorraine