Tag Archive - Russia

Sweet Tea

May 9, 2011 in Home with 0 Comments

Absolute Zero is a Russian mythical creature that, after breathing on any given substance, will cause all molecular activity to cease and – a millisecond later – disappear.

Russian Grandmothers in Syktyvkar

 Really!

OK, I may have some of the facts turned around but I remember Mr. Sawyer, my favorite high school teacher, instructing us future air conditioning mechanical geniuses on the theory of absolute zero, somewhere south of -459 F.

Which is like – really cold.

And when things are that cold, material starts to act differently, like a teenager learning to drive.

The cold stuff can be dangerous also. I saw it on a recent episode of NCIS where this guy dies after ingesting liquid nitrogen – or something like that.

For the record, liquid nitrogen boils at -320 degrees F, which is still a long was from the mythical absolute zero.

When I went to Russia on a mission trip a few years ago the “leaders” thought it was a good idea to venture north – close to the Arctic Circle. Apparently there were people who lived there despite the obvious warning God gave in the form of absolute zero weather to settle elsewhere – like Florida or Jamaica.

But no. They came – eastward across northern Europe – which I am sure wasn’t that much better. These folks settled in what is now called the Komi Republic. They speak Komi and Russian; the two languages having little in common with each other.

We settled into dormitory-like facilities in Syktyvkar, the capital of Komi and home to a university full of Russian and Komi girls studying foreign languages. There was one Princess in the whole lot. Could things be any better?

But that is another story.

Being from South Alabama, the snow was exotic.

For a little while.

What I wanted at that moment was iced tea – sweet tea.

I plundered through the communal kitchen and found a gallon sized glass jar. (Being in Russia I am sure they didn’t use ENglish measurements, but it was close enough to a gallon). I boiled water and drowned some Lipton tea bags that I had brought (for emergency purposes). I needed a cool place to complete the whole sweet tea cycle. The refrigerator in the kitchen was either too small or too crowded to house my newly created sweet tea machine. I topped off the jar with two cups of sugar and was ready for a delightful glass of Southern sweet tea in Northern Russia. Yes, that would make it feel like home.

There was one window in the room; a double window. You open one window and there’s another window to open, if you dare. the only slight problem was that your skin would freeze and fall off your face when you smacked it on the window framing on your quick retreat.

But don’t get ahead of me.

The concept of having two windows – that is – double windows that actually opened did not register in my warm-weathered brain. (I left Mobile, Alabama a few days earlier where the temperature was 65 degrees F). Not at any time did I stop and think, “Why Paul would the Russians have double windows near the north pole?”

Maybe it was to protect against charging polar bears? If one did wander by, at least he would have some sweet tea.

Right!

The jar of delicious sweet tea sat on the outer window ledge for less than an hour waiting for me to bring her in from the cold and enjoy sweetness.

Ignoring the absolute zero (I apparently love saying “absolute zero”) just inches from my double window turned out to be a tactical error. Obeying the laws of science (which happens in Russia too – who knew), the glass jar failed to adequately contain the quickly expanding tea, water, and sugar mixture. When I retrieved the jar, it – surprisingly – had a beautiful crinkly cellophane pattern that bore the likeness of a happy Vladimir Lenin.

With the leader of communist Russia smiling at me, I determined that then would be a good time to start learning to love hot tea.

 

Disney World

December 2, 2009 in Miscellaneous with 0 Comments

I love the smell of gunpowder at midnight.

It’s 10:45 Eastern Standard Time and my new bride and I drove to Orlando to pick up my sister-in-law at the airport. She had flown from Russia and was joining her sister for a new life in Alabama. What better way to celebrate than to spend 15 fun filled hours walking the streets of Disney World. In July.

Twelve hours in, and the blood in my feet no longer flowed. After standing in line (the days before the coveted “fastpass” tickets), consuming fried Disney, being tossed around on various rides built ostensibly for humans, my feet – the ones with no feeling or blood – rebelled and I sat down on the curb.

That was July 4, 1994.

No other rational person would have gone to Disney on that date, so the other (roughly) 40,000 were also insane to some degree.

Close to midnight, we watched colored flying gunpowder explode into magical shapes and designs. Neither my wife nor her sister had ever seen these kinds of fireworks before growing up in the polar region of Russia. (She would say that it wasn’t the polar region. But I say when it snows from September to April – it doesn’t matter).

I can’t say these fireworks were worth the previous 15 hours of hard labor, but they rate with some of the best I’d seen.

November 2009

A few months ago, I read that Thanksgiving would be a good time to visit Disney-World as most folks would be at home celebrating turkey. So, last week the (now) four of us (absent sister-in-law) loaded up the van and my two daughters and my still lovely princess bride headed for the magic castle in Florida.

Disney had graciously provided a complimentary 5 day (military) pass for me and reduced rates for the others in my family; thank you Mickey.

And all those people who wrote that it would not be all that crowded during Thanksgiving week

LIARS.

I suspect the author was a blogger anchored in the depths of some Disney data center because once you’re there – it’s just tough to turn around and go home.

We spent two days at the Magic Kingdom, two at Hollywood Studios (which I can’t help but refer to as MGM Studios) and one day at Epcot Center. I can’t name all the changes, but things were different from 1994; the light parade especially. I think in 1994 it was called the Electric Light Parade, which used light bulbs as opposed to the LCDs. I like the new better.

On Thursday night we stayed long enough to see the light parade and then the fireworks. They too seemed bigger and more costly.

Halfway through the show, clouds of smoke from the fireworks almost enveloped the crowd. This reminded me of a 1995 fireworks over the Mobile River in Mobile, Alabama where the entire show was obscured by low clouds and fog. We heard the boom and saw some flashes, but the fireworks were pretty much ruined. Had it not been for a relative’s flatulent gag toy, the whole evening would have been wasted – I think.

This year’s Disney fireworks also reminded me of the aforementioned 1994 Disney trip and my church youth group’s 1983 Disney trip (which was the summer my father died).

From Tinkerbelle’s spectacular gliding down the zip line to the grand finale neither I, nor our girls, were disappointed. The girls stood on the handrail behind us for as long as they could, mesmerized at the exploding lights; oohing and ahhing appropriately.

I stood, keeping them balanced, enjoying the moment, pushing back the thoughts of going back to work, inhaling the smell of gunpowder.