the land of free refills

Slaviša leaves today. Even though he's only been here for a few days, I feel genuinely sad that he's leaving. I've nagged him mercilessly about moving here and he actually agreed that he could live here for about 3 years. Hooray! Unsatisfied with a mere 3 years of his life, I immediately started negotiations to get a solid 5 year commitment out of him.

He's been here once before, to New York City, but NYC isn't really a true representation of the States. Now that he's spent some time in the Midwest, I was curious as to his observations of the U.S. Primarily he was shocked by the size of the cars that people drive everywhere (where are the pedestrians???). But he spoke of something else, another "cultural moment" that had me literally rolling with laughter until my stomach ached.

Adrienne took him to lunch at a sports bar and grill. He ordered a Pepsi, which came out in a huge glass (of course! Americans love their ginormous drinks). He worked very diligently to finish his beverage, and was about an inch from the bottom of the glass when the waitress promptly gave him another Pepsi.

"I don't remember ordering another drink," Slaviša thought, somewhat perplexed, "But ok." He proceeded to power through the second giant glass of soda.

He was almost done with the second when the waitress presented him with a third. Adrienne was watching him, bemused, as the waitress set the third glass down. Slaviša actually jumped, startled at the sudden appearance of yet another beverage. What was wrong with this waitress and why did she keep bringing him Pepsi??? It seemed very pushy.

Seething with slow-burning resentment, Slaviša finished the third.

When the fourth beverage arrived, Slaviša finally turned to Adrienne and shrieked, "What the f#@* is going on here?!"

Adrienne, ever the kind hostess, had been observing Slaviša's reactions to his free refills the whole time, and only laughed at him.

Slaviša, who'd by that point consumed 80+ ounces of soda, spent most of the afternoon in the restroom, cursing the Americans and their ridiculous beverage consumption.

His story made me laugh, but it makes you look at certain cultural practices in a new light. We really do have a free refill kind of culture... we want as much as we can get (more, even), before we can even ask for it, and we want it for free.

Why do we need that much soda? And is my refusal to accept Slaviša's kind offer of 3 years of his life (demanding 5 years instead) a symptom of my American insatiability? More, more, more, MORE!

I'm going to miss Slaviša. He seems rather aloof at first, but as soon as he's in engaged in conversation he's very vibrant and animated. He's incredibly intelligent and speaks English better than I do, which is slightly annoying. He's well-traveled and has such an innate curiosity for life, but his culture is very conservative. He needs to live somewhere he can truly be himself. I know Kansas isn't the most progressive place in the world, but it's certainly an improvement on uber-traditional Serbia.

His trip here was very productive. He made a lot of contacts at the university who want him to come here as well. So maybe it's just a matter of time? I'll just have to be patient, I guess. And I'll try to be grateful for a 3 year commitment, instead of demanding constant refills.

The Serbian and the Mega Church

While working in Belgrade last year, my best friend Adrienne met a Serbian man named Slaviša. They quickly became friends, so she was thrilled when he announced his plans to visit the States this summer. His Serbian friends thought Kansas was a very quirky and exotic place to visit (because seriously, who chooses to come here for vacation?), and we were determined to show him a good time. Even though he looked very serious in the photos Adrienne showed me, I was excited to finally meet the fabled Slaviša.  Adrienne explained that Serbs never smile but assured me that he's a lot fun, stoic facial expressions notwithstanding.

Slaviša surprised us by wanting to attend a real American mega church while he was here (what's a mega church?). My family went to a very conservative (albeit small) evangelical church when I was growing up, so I felt it was my responsibility to find the biggest, craziest mega church in the area. After all, we didn't want to disappoint our guest! But since I'm a total heathen these days, I had no idea where to start. I just googled "mega churches by state" and finally found the perfect church about 30 minutes away from my house, with a a fundamentalist mission statement and a congregation of about 5,000.

We discussed our outing with great enthusiasm while drinking wine on Saturday night. Was it going to be terribly awkward? Were they going to try to convert us? Would they kick us out for being impostors? Did we run the risk of becoming accidental converts?

As we pulled up to the church on Sunday morning (Adrienne was nursing a mild hangover), we were filled with trepidation. The brick building was huge and seemed to go on forever! There was even someone directing traffic in the parking lot. Slaviša made us promise to let our inhibitions go and really become one with our surroundings, but we felt rather intimidated as we entered the building. I waited for sirens to go off, indicating that non-believers had just stepped through the threshold, but no such thing occurred.

In fact, we were very warmly welcomed by several designated greeters in the entrance hall, where they even had a coffee shop next to a guest services office! We made our way into the main sanctuary area and Slaviša opted to go up into the stadium seating. The chairs were comfortable, and there were tons of open seats. I looked behind me and realized there was even MORE stadium seating, partitioned off behind curtains. I wondered how the hall would look with all the curtains down and people in every seat.

Adrienne and Slaviša in infiltration mode.

There were two large screens on both sides of the stage, which flashed various messages about upcoming church events as we waited for the service to start. Mega Church Observation #1: These people aren't prompt. We arrived a few minutes early, but the service started 20 minutes late. People flowed in continuously, until almost all the available seats were filled.

Adrienne leaned over and said, "This reminds me of when we went on safari together!" I agreed; although we were in the suburbs and not on some African game preserve, we were definitely out of our element and adventuring together.

The 80-person choir finally filed out onto the stage and the music started. The music was awesome! I'm not a fan of Christian praise songs, but this choir could really sing! The songs were a derivation of good ole Southern gospel music and weren't of your typical Christian contemporary soft-rock variety. As the whole crowd got pumped up, Adrienne and Slaviša couldn't resist the urge to dance... and when the pastor called out for everyone to raise their hands, Adrienne and Slaviša complied in one fluid motion, like two kids riding a roller coaster.

It was never my intention to mock anyone; I wanted to enjoy the experience, but in a respectful manner. I didn't want to be snide or condescending. Even if I don't believe the same way anymore, I remember how it felt to believe so strongly and I would never, ever disrespect someone's belief system. After some time had passed, I realized that I was clapping and swaying to the music because I really, truly wanted to. Believe me, the music was REALLY good!

Then the singing was over, and we all settled down in our seats. The pastor came up and said a few words, and then they passed around the offering plates. Adrienne and Slaviša, eager to fully participate, dug in their pockets for change and dutifully made their contributions. A guest speaker (we'll call him Preacher Sr.) came up and did a musical number or two, then invited his young protege onto the stage to give his testimony. Preacher Sr. told us that this young man used to be a drug dealer and fornicator of the worst order, but then God changed his life and got him back on track. The young man (we'll call him Preacher Jr.) failed his G.E.D. test because he'd only finished 6th grade, so he was given a bunch of books to study. But THEN God told him that if he studied the Bible, fasted, and prayed for 30 days, he wouldn't need to study those schoolbooks. Preacher Jr. decided to push the textbooks aside. He studied the Bible, fasted, and prayed for 30 days, and then passed his G.E.D. with flying colors.

Mega Church Observation #2: No education necessary - God knows all the answers! (But isn't that kind of cheating?)

Anyway, Preacher Jr. got on stage and got extremely fired up, talking about how God had changed his life. I got the distinct feeling that Preacher Jr. was practicing "working" a crowd. He said a lot of stuff, but he didn't actually say much. He bellowed into the microphone, turned quite red in the face, and darted around the stage as though he might still actually be on meth. People really seemed to respond, so Preacher Jr. must possess a certain evangelical "it factor. " He ended his time on stage with a request for donations; for a mere $25 a month, anyone who donated would get a free CD of $20 value!

Preacher Sr. got back on stage and talked for maybe 5 minutes or so. Then they passed the collection plate around AGAIN. Mega Church Observation #3: It takes a lot of money to pay for this air conditioning! (Seriously, it was FRIGID in there).

That was when Slaviša decided he'd had enough. We crept up the stairs to the nearest, most discreet exit and got the hell (hahahaha - get it?) out of there.

We'd only been there for a little over an hour, and they'd asked for our money three times. The music was great, but it was nothing more than a glorified (literally) concert. Adrienne was shocked, Slaviša was disgusted, and I was just glad to be done with it. Mega Church Observation #4: a) it's in their best interest if you stay ignorant (who needs to study for a test when you've got God?), and 2) they REALLY want your money.

And they never prayed once the entire time we were there!

Later, Slaviša said that he was grateful for the experience, and that he would be the envy of all his friends at home now! So... mission accomplished.

Photographic evidence that Serbians can, indeed, smile.

 Mega Church Observation #5: The best part is when you never, ever have to go back again!

Pop Quiz ♫ ♪

I vote for: i. none of the above (because Rick couldn't handle fame, developed a drinking problem, and started beating you with a wire hanger. )

But what about the letter "g"? Did the creator of this little gem miss that particular episode of Sesame Street?

forgetsies

My little sister's lease ended in July, so she's been staying with me until she starts house-sitting for my former professor in October. It's been nice having her around, but occasionally the old sibling rivalry rears its ugly head. Especially when something disappears - we automatically blame the other, of course! And 99.9999% of the time, the missing item was pilfered by the sibling.

But not always...

The other morning, I was getting ready for work and couldn't find my mascara. I never move my make-up bag from the medicine cabinet, so I was certain my sister was to blame. I went into her bedroom, woke her up, and demanded that she return it.

"Dude, I didn't take it," Laine responded groggily, "But you can borrow mine." She gestured to her own make-up bag on the floor.

I immediately searched her bag for my mascara, but it wasn't in there. Finally, I gave up and used hers.

Two days later, Laine was in the bathroom getting ready for bed. I was in my room, reading. I heard her make an exasperated sort of gasp, followed by "Lindsey!"

She'd found my mascara. Apparently, I stuck the tube in the toothbrush holder with all our toothbrushes.

You know what the kicker is? Every time I'd brushed my teeth for the last 2 days, I'd thought to myself: "That toothbrush holder sure seems more crowded than normal." But I hadn't even noticed the black tube of mascara in there!

So is this what aging feels like?

My Perestroika

I went to a screening of the documentary film "My Perestroika" this week, and filmmaker Robin Hessman was there for Q&A.

The film follows 5 classmates who attended Moscow's School #57 in the 1980s, during the final years of the Soviet regime. Hessman even managed to find 8mm home movie footage of all 5 of them when they were children, at various September 1st (first day of school) celebrations. She juxtapositions interviews of the now adults with home videos and Soviet propaganda films about the educational system.

The film's subjects talk about what life was like as the USSR declined; how they related to the system during their childhoods, and how they came to realize the old order was failing. Ruslan was surprised when artists and street performers suddenly appeared on the Arbat; Andrei was disgusted by the arbitrary selection process for new Party members. They discuss the August putsch in 1991 and reminisce about the masses of people who formed barricades around the White House in Moscow. Olga's sister brought food to help sustain the protesters; Lyuba and Boris remember fondly the sense of absolute freedom that permeated the crowd.

Then they discuss life after Perestroika; all the stores were empty, and no one knew how they were going to feed their children. Everything was uncertain, but life continued despite politics. After all, what could the average Russian do to change the system? So people chose to focus on what was truly important to them: family, friends, and their careers.

The film was absolutely fascinating, especially the Meyersons (spouses Boris and Lyuba), who work as history teachers in the very school they attended as children. They learned a certain "version" of Soviet history when they were in school, and for a time they were actually free to teach uncensored history to their students. There's a scene where Boris describes forced collectivization to a classroom full of dazed high-schoolers, and his frankness is almost shocking. Later, Putin is on television talking about the new history textbooks being distributed. Boris and Lyuba watch, expressionless, knowing that soon they will be teaching the "official" version of history once again. It's obvious - Putin is just the old regime with a new label.

If all that seems rather depressing, I assure you it's not! A note of hope plays throughout the film in the form of the school, the center of Boris and Lyuba's entire lives. School #57 has existed for 132 years - much longer than the Soviet regime. Hessman layers clips of young Olga, Lyuba, Andrei, Ruslan, and Boris during several first day of school celebrations, and the film ends with the former students bringing their own children to #57 on September 1st.

The message throughout the film was that while everything changes, some things never will. Children will always bring flowers on the first day of school. A little girl will ring the morning bell, and 11th graders will lead the 1st graders to their very first class.

Despite the turmoil, Russians will always know how to value what's truly important.

Visit the movie's website here! You can also donate to help with distribution and other expenses. This is an independent film, so it could use all the help it can get!

I'm a criminal! (sort of)

On my Monday morning commute, I got pulled over for speeding. I haven't gotten a ticket in 5 years, so I was really hoping for a warning. But the highway trooper sat in his car behind me for FOREVER. With each passing minute, I grew more resigned to my fate. "Definitely getting a ticket," I thought to myself as I surreptitiously watched him through my rear view mirror, at his shuffling through forms on his dashboard. "I am never speeding again!" occurred to me, but the idea was dismissed as quickly as it came. I mean, come on! That's just not realistic.

Finally, the trooper ambled up to my door. "I'm gonna give you a warning for speeding..."

"Oh, THANK you!" I started to gush, my heart all aflutter, but he interrupted me.

"I'm giving you a citation because your license is expired."

"WHAT??? I thought it expired in 2013?" I was in shock, and the trooper held up the license in front of my eyes, tapping his index finger over the expiration date. My shoulders slumped.

"You'll have to go to court for this; I don't have any fines listed here because the court will determine how much the fines are. Sign here."

I dutifully signed.

"And don't let me see you driving until you get it fixed!"

I glanced at him speculatively. "Will you still be working around 5pm tonight?"

He just stared at me, radiating judicial authority and old-fashioned disapproval.

"Ok, I'll get it taken care of today."

So I went directly to the DMV and got my license reinstated. And the worst part of all this? Not the potential fines - although that's pretty bad... No, the worst part was that I had to go take a driver's license photo completely unprepared. Minimal make-up, lazily coiffed hair...

For the next 5 years, my driver's license photo will look like the following mugshots met and made a love child:

Sigh.

The Charm School by Nelson DeMille

My rating: 3 of 5 stars


This isn't the kind of book that I usually like, but I have to admit that I enjoyed it. I spent years studying Russia, and the Soviet version of Russia has always fascinated me. Granted, this book was highly imagined - but sometimes these types of far-fetched scenarios can be fun to explore as a sort of vacation from reality.

There's a scene in the book where the two main characters are boarding a plane, waiting to fly out of Moscow to the safe haven of the West. I have to admit, I got incredibly tense (as tense as the characters were) remembering my own exit from Moscow in the post-Soviet year of 2006. Even though the country was supposedly democratic at the time and theoretically I had no reason to be tense, I was completely on edge while waiting for the plane to take off. Maybe it was the rigorous security search (they even rifled through individual pages of each book I had!), passport control, or the generally glum Soviet facade of the Sheremetevo airport that contributed to my paranoia... Regardless, as the book's characters anxiously awaited take-off and their ascent to safety, I was right there with them! And when something happened to keep them from leaving Russia (sorry for the spoiler), I was so upset that I had to put the book down for a couple days.

As for me, I got out of Russia safely, but not without incident. Security, during their intensive search, discovered several embarrassing personal items (but no real contraband). And then my plane was hit by lightning immediately after take-off! Everyone screamed, the cabin powered down, and we all felt the plane drop. But planes are all well-grounded against lightning strikes, and about 3 seconds later the lights came back on and the plane continued its ascent.

I personally took the lightning strike on the plane as Moscow's way of saying "And STAY out!" to me...

All in all, the book was rather entertaining for a former Russophile. Definitely a guilty pleasure!



View all my reviews

it's true, but i'm still going to watch it...

Sunday afternoon baking!

I'm going to try making homemade pop-tarts! While I very much doubt they're healthy, it has to be an improvement on the store bought variety. 

Homemade Healthy Poptarts

I can't even remember the last time I had a Pop-Tart®. I was 13, maybe, and at a friend's house?

Any reason to stuff pastries with jam is good enough for me.

Is there anything Putie can't do?

This article is hilarious: Putin Goes Scuba Diving. Not only does he go scuba diving at the "Russian Atlantis," but he just happens to discover ancient treasure? Really, Putie? Really?

Don't get me wrong - I adore Putin. I know it's probably wrong to admit it, but he really is pretty bad-ass (all transparent PR stunts aside). He's just laughing at everyone at this point, because it doesn't really matter if everyone can see through his uber-macho charade. He's going to do it anyway, because he can.

You really have to appreciate the power of the Russian cult of personality. We just don't have that here in the States...

Top 10 OTHER Things Putin Found While Scuba Diving

The below video is a favorite at Middlebury's infamous basement discos...

Couch needs good home. Is housebroken, with minimal infestations and some pocket change.

Moving it seemed like too much work, so we decided to just sit on it for a while and then abandon it to the Fates. 

something about saturdays

Why am I so disinclined to shower on the weekends? I get much dirtier on Saturdays than any other day; I get muddy at the dog park, I get dusty when cleaning my house, etc...

Maybe I tire myself out, so there's no energy left to shower?

Regardless, the dryer is full of clean towels right now and I can't stand the smell of myself anymore. I'm off to do my duty. You're welcome, world.

The Devil in the White City

"The Devil in the White City" is quite possibly the best book I've read all year. I'm not usually a huge fan of nonfiction, but Erik Larson does a fantastic job weaving together the stories of the Chicago World Fair and America's first serial killer.

Dr. H.H. Holmes, inspired by the recent acts of Jack the Ripper, used the World Fair to his advantage; the event brought in 700,000 visitors on its busiest day. All these 19th century travelers, combined with an inept police force and meager communication infrastructure, created the perfect setting for "people hunting." He even custom built an entire city building to use as a hotel (among other things), in which he could kill at his leisure. He even had a crematoria of sorts in his basement.

But "The Devil in the White City" doesn't focus only on the gory details of Holmes' murders. Concurrently, Larson writes of the miracle that was the Chicago World Fair; of the impossible time constraints in building the legendary White City, and all the hurdles that the Fair's creators faced along the way.

Imagine this in 1893: "a single exhibit hall had enough interior volume to have housed the U.S. Capitol, the Great Pyramid, Winchester Cathedral, Madison Square Garden, and St. Paul's Cathedral, all at the same time." (5) That's just one of the buildings! And all with less than 3 years for construction (did I mention this was in the 19th century???).

The World Fair was meant to eclipse the Exhibition Universelle in Paris, where Alexandre Eiffel had unveiled his still famous tower. Chicago needed something like the Eiffel Tower; something original, innovative, and breathtaking.

The first Ferris Wheel was gargantuan. It had 36 cars, each of which could hold 60 people and its own lunch counter. 2000 people at a time could ride it, and it was a marvel of engineering in its day. No one believed it would work; despite its mass, it looked too flimsy, too dangerous. Even though construction wasn't completed until weeks after the Fair began, the Ferris Wheel became a huge attraction.

from spudart.org

All this, set within an economic environment that sounds all too familiar. Unemployment. Failing banks. The nation teetering on the edge of financial collapse... It's fascinating to me all that's changed since then, and all that hasn't. 

I didn't expect a book about the building of a fair to be so riveting, but it truly was. Read it!

enzo angiolini = hot Dorothy wedding pumps

If I'm going to get married in Kansas, then I'm going to wear red glittery stripper pumps.

And yes, I am wearing them right now...