Here is a picture of the chapel.
Here is a picture of the stairs that go up to the primary room and one other classroom
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Church in a Russian Branch
I already wrote today about an experience that I had at church here in Russia but I forgot to tell about what little I saw of church here today. The branch is very small, maybe forty people. They meet in half of a building (the other half is a beauty salon) which has been renovated. There is a long narrow room where we meet for Sacrament meeting. Then the Relief Society gathers their chairs in a circle and meets in the front of this room for Relief Society. (They do a 2-hour block here. They simply do not have the manpower to staff all the auxilliaries.) Today my mother was called to be a Primary Teacher. These little children will be so blessed. She will have a translator we think. She says, "I will prepare it completely and find visual aids. Then I will do whatever the leadership wants me to do." She doesn't know what age group, it may be all of the children (There aren't many) or it may be just one. I love the faith of my mother. I love her willingness to serve in whatever way, in whatever capacity, whenever and wherever she is needed. What an incredible example she and my father are to me.
Here is a picture of the chapel.
Here is a picture of the stairs that go up to the primary room and one other classroom
Here is a picture of the chapel.
Here is a picture of the stairs that go up to the primary room and one other classroom
Sunday - Miracles
I was part of a miracle today and it touched me deeply. I was reminded again that the Lord knows the names and needs of all of His children and occasionally, when we're very lucky, He allows us to be part of a miracle. Such was my experience today.
To get to the branch my parents serve in takes about 90 minutes. Walk, metro, walk, more metro, walk and you have arrived. 90 minutes! We arrive shortly before church begins. I am excited to visit a Russian branch of the church. I am particularly interested in attending Relief Society as I currently serve in the Relief Society of my home branch and want to be able to tell the Peterborough sisters about it. There is a young man at church who is visiting for the first time. He speaks limited Russian because he is from Cuba. Spanish is his native tongue. I served my mission next door to his country in the Dominican Republic on the island of Hispaniola. I once spoke Spanish fluently but not now. I have forgotten so much and have lost the confidence it takes to speak well. But today there is a young man who needs to know about the restored church, who doesn't have access to it in Cuba where the church is not allowed yet, and I agree to translate the meeting for him. This means that an American missionary translates the meeting from Russian to English for me, and then I translate the meeting from English to Spanish for Ivan - my young friend from Cuba. I pray silently and fervently that Heavenly Father will grant me the gift of tongues so that I can communicate again in this language from my mission. And my prayer is answered. While there are several important words that I simply cannot remember, the language comes flowing back into my mind and out of my mouth. "Do you understand me?" I ask Ivan in spanish. He assures me that he does and I can tell by the questions he is asking that he and I are on the very same page. This is one of the miracles. One of the speakers mentions a living prophet. Ivan turns to me with excitement. "You have a prophet?" "We do." There is a little talk about Elder Scott who was in Russia 3 weeks ago. I explain that Elder Scott is one of twelve apostles. More amazement. "You believe in apostles?" he asks earnestly. "Yes," I tell him - just like in the days of Christ." He is holding a copy of the Book of Mormon in Spanish which the sister missionaries have given him. He keeps gesturing througout the meeting to the subtitle Another Testament of Jesus Christ. He loves the idea that this book is not intended to take the place of the bible but rather, is an additional witness of the Savior.
After sacrament meeting the sister missionaries teach the gospel principles lesson in Russian. My dad and I invite Ivan to another room with us and invite him to tell us a little about himself and ask any questions that he may have. This is the story he tells us.
He was born in Cuba. Nine days after his birth his mother died due to complications related to a Ceserean section. He and his siblings were raised by their father who he described as a good man. He was very active in the apostolic church in Cuba. One thing in their doctrine puzzled him. He shows us that in the book of Ephesians, chapter 4, verse 11 it talks about prophets and apostles and evangelists and pastors and teachers. He says his church doesn't believe in apostles. This has bothered him. He feels that the true church would believe in all of these priesthood offices - that the true church would definitely have apostles. He continues to study. He doesn't remember how this happened but during this time in Cuba he came across 2 videos that have an impact on him. My father takes out the Liahona and shows him pictures of the members of the First Presidency. He points to President Monson and says, "This man was on one of the videos. I recognize him. He was standing in front of a large, beautiful building with lots of flags." He tells us that he felt good about the things the prophet said. Then he goes on. "Several years ago," he says, "I had a dream. In the dream I was well-dressed and I was standing in front of a very large congregation teaching about Jesus Christ. When I woke up I knew that the Lord had called me to be a missionary." He tells us that he leaves Cuba and comes to Russia. From there he is going on to Ecuador to teach. He produces a document from his minister in Cuba, a letter of recommendation, which he carries with him. I ask him why he chooses to come to Russia. He explains that for Cubans it is easy to come to Russia (and also to Ecuador) because you don't need a visa to travel between these three countries. He feels called to Russia and so he packs his bags and says goodbye to his father. He considers himself an ambassador of the Lord. He wants to preach about Jesus. He speaks no Russian when he comes and lives in an apartment with so many, many others trying to make ends meet. He studies Russian. Somehow he becomes acquainted with a christian family who are quite wealthy. They own a business making beautiful Russian coats for women. They invite him to come and live at their offices and in exchange for living there he cleans and takes care of the offices. He is soooo grateful for this living arrangement where he pays rent with work instead of rubles. During this time the Jehovah's Witnesses find him and teach him. He says that they are very persistant. One doctrine that is confusing to him is that they believe that Jesus Christ is just a man (this is how he explained it to me.) One night as he was studying his bible he felt the Holy Ghost say to him, "Jesus Christ is not just a man. Jesus Christ is God." He told me, "The Lord revealed to me that this church was not the right one." He is very well-versed in the bible because he studies it often. He tells my dad and I that the Holy Ghost often reveals things to him. He shares some examples and I am amazed that he understands doctrine of the church without ever having been a member.
Then he meets the sister missionaries on the metro. They introduce themselves as missionaries. He introduces himself to them as a missionary also, using his limited Russian. The sister missionaries tell him a little about The Book of Mormon and promise to find one for him in Spanish. They invite him to church on Sunday and get his phone number. Later in the week they call him on the phone. They are able to communicate enough to give him details about the church and where and when it meets. He comes. (We later learn from the sister missionaries that one of the missionary apartments was recently closed. The sister missionaries living there were sent to different areas to serve. As they sorted through the books to be returned to the mission office they found a Book of Mormon in spanish. They gave all the extra books to the office and kept just one. The Book of Mormon in Spanish. Why? The sister who brought it with her doesn't speak Spanish - both she and her companion are Russian. And so when Ivan needs a Book of Mormon in his mother tongue - they just happen to have one. Another miracle.
Ivan tells dad and I that he feels good about the things he is learning. They make sense to him. He says, "I believe I have found the true church." I ask him if he would like to be baptized and he says, "Yes." He wants to know if we believe in miracles. I ask him, "Do you think it is a coincidence that both you and I are here today?" For the first time he realizes that I don't live in Russia, that I am only visiting. "I wasn't here last week," I say, "and I won't be here next week but this one week, your first week at church in Russia, we are both here at the same time. You speak Spanish and I speak Spanish. Yes, my friend, I believe in miracles. I also believe that Heavenly Father is very interested in you and your life. I can absolutely see you as you saw yourself in your dream, preaching the gospel to a large congregation in a white shirt and tie. I feel that Heavenly Father has wonderful plans for you and I am so grateful to have played a small part.
Tomorrow Renee, Kaylyn, and my aunt Sher are flying to St. Petersburg. Originally, I was planning to go, too. But when it came time to purchase our tickets I found that I didn't want to go. I just wanted to stay here in Moscow with my parents. I find it miraculous that I am here and available to translate tomorrow for Ivan's first missionary discussion until the missionaries are able to find someone else in the Europe East Area that speaks spanish.
Do I believe in miracles? Do I believe that the Savior cares about us individually and sometimes orchestrates our lives in wonderful ways? As they say here in Russia, "Da!" (Yes!)
When my sisters and my aunt began planning this trip I had no intention of coming. Jay and I just bought a house and we didn't have money for me to make this trip. My parents invited me to come and they would pay for my ticket and help me with expenses. Gratefully, I came along.
My sisters are joking today that the Lord said (think about this next sentence in a deep man voice), "DeVere and Arva, Bring your daughter to Russia." Pause. "No, not those two!" (Referring to Kaylyn and Renee) "The other one!" And as an afterthought, "Alright, the rest can come as tourists."
I am grateful to have been an instrument in the hands of the Lord today.
To get to the branch my parents serve in takes about 90 minutes. Walk, metro, walk, more metro, walk and you have arrived. 90 minutes! We arrive shortly before church begins. I am excited to visit a Russian branch of the church. I am particularly interested in attending Relief Society as I currently serve in the Relief Society of my home branch and want to be able to tell the Peterborough sisters about it. There is a young man at church who is visiting for the first time. He speaks limited Russian because he is from Cuba. Spanish is his native tongue. I served my mission next door to his country in the Dominican Republic on the island of Hispaniola. I once spoke Spanish fluently but not now. I have forgotten so much and have lost the confidence it takes to speak well. But today there is a young man who needs to know about the restored church, who doesn't have access to it in Cuba where the church is not allowed yet, and I agree to translate the meeting for him. This means that an American missionary translates the meeting from Russian to English for me, and then I translate the meeting from English to Spanish for Ivan - my young friend from Cuba. I pray silently and fervently that Heavenly Father will grant me the gift of tongues so that I can communicate again in this language from my mission. And my prayer is answered. While there are several important words that I simply cannot remember, the language comes flowing back into my mind and out of my mouth. "Do you understand me?" I ask Ivan in spanish. He assures me that he does and I can tell by the questions he is asking that he and I are on the very same page. This is one of the miracles. One of the speakers mentions a living prophet. Ivan turns to me with excitement. "You have a prophet?" "We do." There is a little talk about Elder Scott who was in Russia 3 weeks ago. I explain that Elder Scott is one of twelve apostles. More amazement. "You believe in apostles?" he asks earnestly. "Yes," I tell him - just like in the days of Christ." He is holding a copy of the Book of Mormon in Spanish which the sister missionaries have given him. He keeps gesturing througout the meeting to the subtitle Another Testament of Jesus Christ. He loves the idea that this book is not intended to take the place of the bible but rather, is an additional witness of the Savior.
After sacrament meeting the sister missionaries teach the gospel principles lesson in Russian. My dad and I invite Ivan to another room with us and invite him to tell us a little about himself and ask any questions that he may have. This is the story he tells us.
He was born in Cuba. Nine days after his birth his mother died due to complications related to a Ceserean section. He and his siblings were raised by their father who he described as a good man. He was very active in the apostolic church in Cuba. One thing in their doctrine puzzled him. He shows us that in the book of Ephesians, chapter 4, verse 11 it talks about prophets and apostles and evangelists and pastors and teachers. He says his church doesn't believe in apostles. This has bothered him. He feels that the true church would believe in all of these priesthood offices - that the true church would definitely have apostles. He continues to study. He doesn't remember how this happened but during this time in Cuba he came across 2 videos that have an impact on him. My father takes out the Liahona and shows him pictures of the members of the First Presidency. He points to President Monson and says, "This man was on one of the videos. I recognize him. He was standing in front of a large, beautiful building with lots of flags." He tells us that he felt good about the things the prophet said. Then he goes on. "Several years ago," he says, "I had a dream. In the dream I was well-dressed and I was standing in front of a very large congregation teaching about Jesus Christ. When I woke up I knew that the Lord had called me to be a missionary." He tells us that he leaves Cuba and comes to Russia. From there he is going on to Ecuador to teach. He produces a document from his minister in Cuba, a letter of recommendation, which he carries with him. I ask him why he chooses to come to Russia. He explains that for Cubans it is easy to come to Russia (and also to Ecuador) because you don't need a visa to travel between these three countries. He feels called to Russia and so he packs his bags and says goodbye to his father. He considers himself an ambassador of the Lord. He wants to preach about Jesus. He speaks no Russian when he comes and lives in an apartment with so many, many others trying to make ends meet. He studies Russian. Somehow he becomes acquainted with a christian family who are quite wealthy. They own a business making beautiful Russian coats for women. They invite him to come and live at their offices and in exchange for living there he cleans and takes care of the offices. He is soooo grateful for this living arrangement where he pays rent with work instead of rubles. During this time the Jehovah's Witnesses find him and teach him. He says that they are very persistant. One doctrine that is confusing to him is that they believe that Jesus Christ is just a man (this is how he explained it to me.) One night as he was studying his bible he felt the Holy Ghost say to him, "Jesus Christ is not just a man. Jesus Christ is God." He told me, "The Lord revealed to me that this church was not the right one." He is very well-versed in the bible because he studies it often. He tells my dad and I that the Holy Ghost often reveals things to him. He shares some examples and I am amazed that he understands doctrine of the church without ever having been a member.
Then he meets the sister missionaries on the metro. They introduce themselves as missionaries. He introduces himself to them as a missionary also, using his limited Russian. The sister missionaries tell him a little about The Book of Mormon and promise to find one for him in Spanish. They invite him to church on Sunday and get his phone number. Later in the week they call him on the phone. They are able to communicate enough to give him details about the church and where and when it meets. He comes. (We later learn from the sister missionaries that one of the missionary apartments was recently closed. The sister missionaries living there were sent to different areas to serve. As they sorted through the books to be returned to the mission office they found a Book of Mormon in spanish. They gave all the extra books to the office and kept just one. The Book of Mormon in Spanish. Why? The sister who brought it with her doesn't speak Spanish - both she and her companion are Russian. And so when Ivan needs a Book of Mormon in his mother tongue - they just happen to have one. Another miracle.
Ivan tells dad and I that he feels good about the things he is learning. They make sense to him. He says, "I believe I have found the true church." I ask him if he would like to be baptized and he says, "Yes." He wants to know if we believe in miracles. I ask him, "Do you think it is a coincidence that both you and I are here today?" For the first time he realizes that I don't live in Russia, that I am only visiting. "I wasn't here last week," I say, "and I won't be here next week but this one week, your first week at church in Russia, we are both here at the same time. You speak Spanish and I speak Spanish. Yes, my friend, I believe in miracles. I also believe that Heavenly Father is very interested in you and your life. I can absolutely see you as you saw yourself in your dream, preaching the gospel to a large congregation in a white shirt and tie. I feel that Heavenly Father has wonderful plans for you and I am so grateful to have played a small part.
Tomorrow Renee, Kaylyn, and my aunt Sher are flying to St. Petersburg. Originally, I was planning to go, too. But when it came time to purchase our tickets I found that I didn't want to go. I just wanted to stay here in Moscow with my parents. I find it miraculous that I am here and available to translate tomorrow for Ivan's first missionary discussion until the missionaries are able to find someone else in the Europe East Area that speaks spanish.
Do I believe in miracles? Do I believe that the Savior cares about us individually and sometimes orchestrates our lives in wonderful ways? As they say here in Russia, "Da!" (Yes!)
When my sisters and my aunt began planning this trip I had no intention of coming. Jay and I just bought a house and we didn't have money for me to make this trip. My parents invited me to come and they would pay for my ticket and help me with expenses. Gratefully, I came along.
My sisters are joking today that the Lord said (think about this next sentence in a deep man voice), "DeVere and Arva, Bring your daughter to Russia." Pause. "No, not those two!" (Referring to Kaylyn and Renee) "The other one!" And as an afterthought, "Alright, the rest can come as tourists."
I am grateful to have been an instrument in the hands of the Lord today.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
How do you say bathroom in Russian?
One thing I love about this trip is that my parents actually live here and some of the things we do with them are not typical "touristy" kinds of things. The following is an example of a mormon missionary outing for the couple missionaries that went terribly wrong.
One of mom and dad's senior couple friends learned that we could visit a traditional porcelain making factory in the blue and white style that we see everywhere. We agreed to meet on one of the metro platforms at 9:45 a.m. and all would leave together from there. Two darling sister missionaries lead our group.
Before going any further let me just say that the amount of walking a person does in this country is staggering. First you walk from your apartment to the metro. In the case of my parents, this walk takes about 20 minutes. Next you board the metro which deserves an entire post in itself on another day. To make a long story short, when you are on the metro you must never, NEVER meet the eyes of another person.
Never smile. Stare off into space or straight ahead. This can be particularly awkward if the metro is very crowded. If you have the luxury of finding a seat, congratulations. Now people will squeeze on and hold the bar directly over where you are sitting and all around you. This makes staring off into space incredibly difficult. Instead you find yourself staring at peoples belt buckles or belly buttons, neither of which seem socially acceptable in metro culture. Simply close your eyes. That's your only option. Sorry. If you didn't get a seat you must stand. The personal space that even I, warm-hearted American farmgirl, require is severly compromised. I recently found myself standing bum to bum with the person behind me. I don't mean close. I mean my bottom was actually touching a complete stranger's and we had to ride along that way for some time. And at the same time the person sitting on the bench in front of me was staring at my belt buckle. Awkward.
Finally, get off the metro at your stop. Now it's time to walk. For a long time. Again. In the case of this outing with the couples we are going to board a train that will take us out into the country. One of the couples is late and we miss the train.
Because the next train won't arrive for 3 hours the sisters suggest that we take a different train that leads us a little closer to our destination and then catch a local taxi to the pottery factory. It is a long way from the train station to find a marchuka (taxi-van) to take us to the factory. 
We happen by a McDonald's as we walk and stop in for bite to eat and more importantly, a bathroom. The manager graciously allows all of us to sit in the little room reserved for children's birthday parties. It feels like a party.
These people my parents serve with are a blast. Anyway, thank goodness for that bathroom. It was the last one we saw for the rest of the day.
More walking and finally we arrive at a bus station. We hire the "marchuka" and get in. We drive for a while and the driver pulls over. We get out and look around. We are in the middle of nowhere. There is more discussion between the sister missionaries and the driver while all of the senior couples participate in a chinese fire drill (not really, but we later wished we had). Soon we all pile in again and drive some more. When he stops this time we find ourselves in front of a small shop advertising pottery. This is definitely not a factory. Where is the factory? No one seems to know. The taxi-van drives away.
My sister Renee has a very small bladder and looks around for a place to use the restroom. Nowhere. There are very few public restrooms in Russia. In the pottery shop the senior missionaries are rallying their spirits after the dissappointment of not finding the factory. We have been in transit so long now that even if the pottery factory does, indeed, exist we don't have time to look for it. We must content ourselves with buying some of the pottery.
Inside the shop there are many lovely things to buy - from table service and dolls to clocks and animals.
Everyone enjoys choosing.
Now you would think that after many rich (relatively speaking) americans come into your store and spend many rubles and one of those customers (my sister, Renee) needs a bathroom desperately you would try to help. The proprietor does exactly the opposite. She seems shocked and even a little offended by the question. She insists that there is no bathroom in the back of her shop. Renee keeps holding it.
After making our purchases we begin to walk back to the station where our original train would have dropped us off had we not missed it. It is raining and we walk for 45 minutes. This walk is enjoyable for everyone except my sister Renee who, in addition to struggling with bathroom withdrawal, steps down in a deep hole and covers one foot and shoe completely with mud. Oh, man. We have lots of time to look at the little summer cottages called dotchas (rhymes with gotcha) and their complex gingerbreading
and beautiful gardens. 
This is a time to see the Russian countryside and talk to the missionaries. Even though my feet are killing me and I'm worried about my sister who keeps muttering things like "Doesn't anyone here ever need to go to the bathroom?" and my mom who is very tired I have to say I still enjoyed the walk. The sisters explain that this is a typical Russian experience. And this is exactly what I was hoping to have here in Russia. While I definitely want to see their beautiful tourist attractions, I care more about meeting the people and catching a glimpse of life as they experience it. And this lack of any bit of convenience while enjoying their beautiful countryside is a real taste of life here. So are the yummy tomatoes and cucumbers we buy from a woman selling them from her backyard. When asked about a bathroom she shakes her head but then, with great kindness, she explains that her neighbor who lives next door is out of town and that my sis can go to the bathroom in THE NEIGHBOR'S BACK YARD. Think about the last time you left town and ask your neighbor to watch over your house. I'm telling you, you never know what you may have missed. Renee thanks her and holds it.
We arrive at the train station. This is a picture of a large snail near the train station. All things considered, I think it may have arrived at its destination first.
We take the train back to the metro, and the metro back to the street corner that is 20 minutes away from my parent's apartment. And then we walk. Again. Toward my parent's home here and a real indoor bathroom. Exhausting, frustrating, wet, wonderful day.
P.S. When we arrived home Renee made the mistake of going into the family room to put her bags down. I beat her to the bathroom.
One of mom and dad's senior couple friends learned that we could visit a traditional porcelain making factory in the blue and white style that we see everywhere. We agreed to meet on one of the metro platforms at 9:45 a.m. and all would leave together from there. Two darling sister missionaries lead our group.
Before going any further let me just say that the amount of walking a person does in this country is staggering. First you walk from your apartment to the metro. In the case of my parents, this walk takes about 20 minutes. Next you board the metro which deserves an entire post in itself on another day. To make a long story short, when you are on the metro you must never, NEVER meet the eyes of another person.
Never smile. Stare off into space or straight ahead. This can be particularly awkward if the metro is very crowded. If you have the luxury of finding a seat, congratulations. Now people will squeeze on and hold the bar directly over where you are sitting and all around you. This makes staring off into space incredibly difficult. Instead you find yourself staring at peoples belt buckles or belly buttons, neither of which seem socially acceptable in metro culture. Simply close your eyes. That's your only option. Sorry. If you didn't get a seat you must stand. The personal space that even I, warm-hearted American farmgirl, require is severly compromised. I recently found myself standing bum to bum with the person behind me. I don't mean close. I mean my bottom was actually touching a complete stranger's and we had to ride along that way for some time. And at the same time the person sitting on the bench in front of me was staring at my belt buckle. Awkward. Finally, get off the metro at your stop. Now it's time to walk. For a long time. Again. In the case of this outing with the couples we are going to board a train that will take us out into the country. One of the couples is late and we miss the train.
Because the next train won't arrive for 3 hours the sisters suggest that we take a different train that leads us a little closer to our destination and then catch a local taxi to the pottery factory. It is a long way from the train station to find a marchuka (taxi-van) to take us to the factory. 
We happen by a McDonald's as we walk and stop in for bite to eat and more importantly, a bathroom. The manager graciously allows all of us to sit in the little room reserved for children's birthday parties. It feels like a party.
These people my parents serve with are a blast. Anyway, thank goodness for that bathroom. It was the last one we saw for the rest of the day.
More walking and finally we arrive at a bus station. We hire the "marchuka" and get in. We drive for a while and the driver pulls over. We get out and look around. We are in the middle of nowhere. There is more discussion between the sister missionaries and the driver while all of the senior couples participate in a chinese fire drill (not really, but we later wished we had). Soon we all pile in again and drive some more. When he stops this time we find ourselves in front of a small shop advertising pottery. This is definitely not a factory. Where is the factory? No one seems to know. The taxi-van drives away.
My sister Renee has a very small bladder and looks around for a place to use the restroom. Nowhere. There are very few public restrooms in Russia. In the pottery shop the senior missionaries are rallying their spirits after the dissappointment of not finding the factory. We have been in transit so long now that even if the pottery factory does, indeed, exist we don't have time to look for it. We must content ourselves with buying some of the pottery.
Inside the shop there are many lovely things to buy - from table service and dolls to clocks and animals.
Everyone enjoys choosing.
Now you would think that after many rich (relatively speaking) americans come into your store and spend many rubles and one of those customers (my sister, Renee) needs a bathroom desperately you would try to help. The proprietor does exactly the opposite. She seems shocked and even a little offended by the question. She insists that there is no bathroom in the back of her shop. Renee keeps holding it.After making our purchases we begin to walk back to the station where our original train would have dropped us off had we not missed it. It is raining and we walk for 45 minutes. This walk is enjoyable for everyone except my sister Renee who, in addition to struggling with bathroom withdrawal, steps down in a deep hole and covers one foot and shoe completely with mud. Oh, man. We have lots of time to look at the little summer cottages called dotchas (rhymes with gotcha) and their complex gingerbreading
and beautiful gardens. 
This is a time to see the Russian countryside and talk to the missionaries. Even though my feet are killing me and I'm worried about my sister who keeps muttering things like "Doesn't anyone here ever need to go to the bathroom?" and my mom who is very tired I have to say I still enjoyed the walk. The sisters explain that this is a typical Russian experience. And this is exactly what I was hoping to have here in Russia. While I definitely want to see their beautiful tourist attractions, I care more about meeting the people and catching a glimpse of life as they experience it. And this lack of any bit of convenience while enjoying their beautiful countryside is a real taste of life here. So are the yummy tomatoes and cucumbers we buy from a woman selling them from her backyard. When asked about a bathroom she shakes her head but then, with great kindness, she explains that her neighbor who lives next door is out of town and that my sis can go to the bathroom in THE NEIGHBOR'S BACK YARD. Think about the last time you left town and ask your neighbor to watch over your house. I'm telling you, you never know what you may have missed. Renee thanks her and holds it.We arrive at the train station. This is a picture of a large snail near the train station. All things considered, I think it may have arrived at its destination first.
We take the train back to the metro, and the metro back to the street corner that is 20 minutes away from my parent's apartment. And then we walk. Again. Toward my parent's home here and a real indoor bathroom. Exhausting, frustrating, wet, wonderful day.
P.S. When we arrived home Renee made the mistake of going into the family room to put her bags down. I beat her to the bathroom.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
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