Gilman's Corner, NH
August 18, 2008

    As we prepare for another journey across Russia, we've given much thought to what an organization like ours can and can't do.  We can't change events on the world scene.  But we've refused to let them change us.  Our work has always been to simply find the good in each other and build on that.  There is more than enough good to find.  It might often be covered by clouds, but it's still there.

    Our eighth library project, which will be in the village of Kokorevo, as well as the opportunity to teach English classes in Vetoshkino are both a testament to the fact that seeking the good in others opens doors.  This year the preparations for the trip—on both the U.S. and Russian sides—have been even more noticeably full of caring and unselfishness.  Our organization has always worked less from our bank account, and more from the talents and tireless help of many, many people.

    And so, we begin this trip very conscious of the fact that we can work together—and that there are many people here and there that want to.  The next entry will be sometime between August 27th and 30th from Moscow.
 

Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Outskirts of Moscow, Zhaba Village
Soft rain all day

Briefly, two main events to write about: 1)Already I have met with incredible kindness from the moment I landed in the airport (a new one from me) trying to find my way around until late this evening as I sit in the home of my friends Andrei and Natasha writing this letter.  If only people in America knew a tenth part of the kindness I meet here it would make the aggression between our governments seem absurd.  2) Today and tomorrow I'm on a "little vacation" before I take the train to Vetoshkino and start teaching.  Thus today we spent the whole day at the summer estate of Anton Chekhov (the famous writer).  It was heaven on earth: the gardens, the various little wooden homes -- especially the one tucked in an apple orchard where he fled to escape the constant guests and pick up his pen to write again.  It was a misty day, and also school is about to start, so we had the museum/estate literally to ourselves for the first hour.  There was nothing but utter silence, beauty everywhere (gardens, birch forests, rivers, ponds), and everywhere scenes from his writing coming to life. When Natasha and I returned home, Andrei had "shaslik" (Russian barbeque) going in their beautiful garden.  Tomorrow we are going to one of Catherine the Great's palaces.  It just recently opened.  It was one that she ordered built, and when she saw if from the road said she didn't like it and never set foot inside and ordered it to be destroyed.  It was recently rebuilt according to the original plan.  So we will see what she never did.  Then in the evening we're going to the ballet, "Sleeping Beauty".  Such is the generosity and caring I've met in just the first 24 hours.  Thank you all sincerely for all the kind letters you sent along. They are just wonderful and make it seem like you're here with me.  I'll try to write again tomorrow.  --J

Thursday, August 28, 2008
Zhabkino Village, outskirts of Moscow
Partly cloudy

   We left early this morning for "Tsarinova," the Moscow palace of Catherine the Great which she ordered built, looked upon once, and ordered to be torn down.  I was not able to learn why.  As she was not a foolish woman and was a great lover of the arts, the reason would be interesting. But we opted to view the palace ourselves and not in a group and so we had no one to ask.  We arrived early and again were practically the only ones. Only the sun accompanied us and left again as we left.  It is impossible to describe the beauty of the grounds and the palace.  First of all, the entire grounds are open daily to the public free of charge.  You can walk through the entire estate, through the parks, sit by the fountains and listen to classical music or sit in the courtyard.  Only if you go inside are you required to pay the $4 admission fee.  It is such a gift to the community.  The various buildings hold various art exhibits and once a week there are concerts in the "smaller" palace (nonetheless huge!)  It is all wholly Russian: your eyes can barely take in all of the architectural designs while at the same time the wholly gentle colors that the buildings are "dipped in," pale green, pale peach, pale pink, pale blue . . . are all very calming and soothing.
   The main palace was holding a special exhibit of early 20th century Russian artists.  It was simply heavenly. Beyond description.  There is such a love and reverence for art here that it results in a certain atmosphere in the art museums.  One painting that stands out to me was young women bathing in the banya.  In the very foreground your eye is attracted to a young woman pouring water over her feet.  Not only does it seem like the water will spill out on to the floor of the museum, you sense that it is pouring out very slowly and carefully.  The woman's one foot and ankle is wet from the water and just above it, it is dry.  How the artist managed to so distinguish the difference is beyond imagining.  Another painting was as if the artist was up in a hot-air balloon looking down on a village gathered, having a picnic.  The perspective is brilliant and enables you to see all that's going on at once.
    Again, I couldn't help but think, "How different our view of Russia and Russians might be if we were told about such places provided free of charge to citizens and visitors alike."  The care that went in to building the palace and grounds is unimaginable.  I didn't see one speck of trash on the ground.  You could eat off of it, it was so spotlessly clean.  If any of you ever end up in Moscow, the palace is a must see.
     Tonight we head off to the ballet.  Tomorrow will be a quiet day at home and then late afternoon I head for Vetoshkino.
     Just a P.S. to yesterday's diary.  Chekhov's main occupation was as a doctor. He worked largely for poor people but never, never, charged for his services.  He did his writing on the side to support his own family as well as his mother and sister (and eventually the infinite number of guests who descended on the famous author's summer home).  He was notorious for not only hosting his friend, but strangers who showed up at the door hoping to meet him.  When he had finally had enough, he'd flee to the only little home in the orchard to escape the crowds and write.  The little clinic where he worked is still there.  Half of it is a museum and half a clinic where a doctor works daily treating the people who live in the surrounding area.  Unfortunately, I didn't have enough courage to ask if she works free of charge.  I may be able to write once more tomorrow.  After that I don't know how soon I'll be able to use the school's computer.  i.e. how soon the weather will clear up so the phone lines and internet work. . . .  --J
 

Saturday, August 30, 2008
Kirov
Cloudy and mild

    My apologies for all the mistakes in the first letters. I have to work very quickly when I write as you pay by the minute for the internet and I don't want to give my various friends huge internet bills. I just arrived in Kirov (20 minutes ago) and am staying one day in the home of Sasha and Luba and their adorable three-year old, Yulia.  In Russia, the head of our organization is Nikolai Arzhannikov. His cousin is Tatyana and lives in the village where I'll be teaching. Tatyana's son is Sasha and Sasha's wife is Luba, and I am the godmother of their child. Thus I am here staying the day with them and tomorrow we
will head for Vetoshkino.
    I should write to you about the ballet, but instead I will write about the adventure of the train ride here. First of all, I just assumed that we would go to the train station by car. But it was rush hour and we had to get to the other side of Moscow (a true nightmare by car) and so we took the metro. Ah, such an adventure. The trains were jammed with people as were the elevators, and so managing my 50-pound suitcase (filled with books and games for the children), my shoulder bag, and a sack filled with bread, sausage, hard boiled eggs, tea packets, and chocolates (packed by Natasha for me, knowing that if I shared it with my compartment mates on the train it would help make friends more quickly) -- all of that we managed to get on and off three different metro trains, though how I don't quite know.
    My compartment mates couldn't have been more dear. A young (20-something) student named Katya and a young husband and wife named Veronica and Slava. I provided our evening snack and they provided tea and honey. We talked most of the night simply because the conversation was so pleasant. As always, people want to know about "real America" and how people live, what they like to do, what they dream about. Everyone wants to hear more about Barack Obama. He has become very popular here since his European trip.
    In short, the trip couldn't have been more pleasant. We exchanged e-mail addresses, promised to write each other and said fond good-byes.
More tomorrow. --J
 

Saturday afternoon, August 30
Kirov
SUNSHINE!

    The apartment Sasha and Luba live in is brand new.  New apartment buildings and shops are springing up everywhere.  It is plain to see the swift economic progress young people are enjoying.  Sasha works incredibly hard (in the computer business) and after another year, Luba will go back to work at her old firm as an accountant.  (Mothers here
get two years of paid maternity leave.)  They are the first generation of Russians able to work hard and progress as quickly as they want to. Sasha and Luba have a fully modern apartment (with an ultra-modern kitchen), their own car, computer and internet service at home, and "modern" toys (i.e. talking, walking, blinking, squeaking) for Yulia.
     When I arrived Yulia was still sleeping.  I settled in and started to work at the computer, when suddenly this little curly-headed 2-year-old cherub was at my side, looking up at me.  Suddenly she said, "Hello, Auntie Jeannie" (in English) and broke into a huge smile utterly pleased with her performance.

     Just one more quick story.  One of the things I prepared before leaving was a "story box".  It's a colorful box with odds and ends inside.  In the middle grade English classes I will ask each student to pick an object from the box and write about.  There's a stamp from Egypt, one from America, three little bells, a heart shaped stone.  i.e. things that require creative thinking and writing.  Where did some object come from?  Who had it and why?  What part of the world has it traveled to or from? etc.  It was not at all essential, but I thought that a feather would be a particularly great source for a story.  What kind of bird did it come from, living where, seeing what when it migrated, etc.  For weeks I searched for a small feather without luck. The day before I left, I was walking in my back door and there on the ground, right in front of the door was small feather.
    

     It seems that this year's trip is already turning out to be the trip lifted up by many little feathers. For example: The flight I was on from the U.S. to Moscow arrived an hour early and to an airport I've not flown to before.  Thus, Andrei and Natasha were not there when I arrived.  (I was through customs in less than five minutes.)  I knew they were on their way, but I didn't know where to wait for them and the airport was mobbed.  Everywhere there were signs, "Don't use any taxi that is not an official taxi."  As I stood waiting, at least a dozen taxi drivers (who park their cars and come inside the airport to seek out passengers) asked me if I needed a taxi.  Most people look the other way and don't answer, but I've always felt it was right to politely say, "No, but thank you.  I have friends coming for me."  One taxi driver made a point of telling me he was "an official driver" but I again politely refused.  Only then did I realize that I didn't know the exact address of where my friends live!  It was then that I also learned that my cell phone card had expired.  Thus I couldn't call them either.
     About 10 minutes later, the same man came back and said, "Are you sure you are alright?  Do you need help?"  Somehow it was utterly clear from his face, his eyes, his intonation that he sincerely wanted to help.  I explained that my phone didn't work and that I couldn't use his services because I didn't know the exact address of my friends although I knew their phone number.  With that he said, "Why don't you use my phone and call them?"  When I didn't answer immediately he said, "Just use my phone.  I don't want anything.  I don't want any money."  And somehow it was clear that this was "another feather" dropped at my feet.  Not only did I use his phone, but he then got on and explained to Andrei exactly where I was so that we found each other easily.
     The man ended the call, and then smiled warmly at me and said, "Welcome to Russia."  With that he was gone from sight . . . but he will never be gone from my fond memories.
     P.S.  Be sure, I don't make a practice of talking to strangers!  It was simply obvious that this was another "feather given" to take me a little further on my journey.  And it is such things that bring me back to Russia each year.  Thank you for being there to listen to such stories.
 

Wednesday, Sept. 3, 2008
Vetoshkino village
Sunshine, but freezing!

There is so much to share!  We have had freezing cold rain each day since I've been here.  The internet doesn't work when it rains, thus the many days without news.  Today is the first day of sunshine, but the high today will be only 45°.  At night it is already in the 30s.  There is no heat in the school until Oct. 15th and so I'm freezing as I write this!  I hope this weekend to be able to buy myself a warm sweater. (The weather is unexpectedly cold.)
     But all is going very well!  I am living with Tatyana, Mikhail and Babushka.  We had arranged for me to have a home of my own, but with the unexpected cold, it is foolish to heat a house (i.e. waste so much wood) for one person when I am home so little.  Thus I am living with Nikolai's relatives.
     Briefly my day:  We get up at 6 a.m. to feed the cows, milk them and clean their stalls.  Then we feed the chickens and gather eggs.  By 7, Tatyana and I are in the banya to bathe and dress for work.  We eat at 7:15.  Between 7:30 and 8:15 I have quiet time to myself.  I start school at 8:30 and help teach between 5 and 6 classes each day.  (From grade 2 to grade 10.)  I'm home by 3:00.  After school I prepare my class work for the next day and then we work in the fields cutting clover (by hand with a scythe) for the cows.  We then make our dinner and do the dishes, and then I work again on lesson plans.  I'm in bed by 10 and each day follows like the previous.  I'm slowly getting used to so much manual labor and to walking everywhere.
      My walk to school is only five minutes or so.  I first need to pass a neighbor's goat who I don't trust at all.  I then turn off the main road, down a narrow "side road" (i.e. footpath) past a friendly cow and a dozen or so geese.  Finally, the flower gardens of the school are in sight, I turn in the gate, walk through the flower gardens and to the school.  There is a short cut through the fields, but it is simply too muddy to go that way.  They say we are to get snow by the end of the week.  Yesterday Tatyana arrived home with a beautiful pink, wool knit hat for me.
      The children are absolutely wonderful!  Obedient, eager to learn, respectful, but also playful like children.  I basically supplement the work of the teacher (Natasha Aleksandrovna) and help with pronunciation and grammar.  In the oldest classes we work on "free conversation". i.e. the students can repeat whole paragraphs from their textbook by heart, but simply to sit and converse is almost impossible for them.
     This summer, some friends helped me learn how to teach ESL (English as a Second Language) even though I knew the method was very different from what is taught here. However, it was more than fortuitous, because there are six students now living and studying in Vetoshkino, because a nearby school closed.  They had been learning German and so I will tutor them separately using the ESL method.  If nothing else it is the reason, it seems, I'm here this year.  Their school (Votskaya) failed a new accreditation test and it was a shock to the whole village that it closed.  It is hard enough for such young children to have to live away from home during the week to study here and so I am SO grateful I can quickly help them catch up to their grade level in English.
     Almost everyday I see how perfectly all the things people gave me (to help me teach) are working out.  They couldn't be better.  Such things are all very new to the students here and so naturally increase their interest.  There is 20 minutes between each class.  Already each hour the students are coming early to English class because they know I will have some game for them to play.  For instance, there is a game called "Banana grams".  (Don't ask me why!)  It's a banana filled with letters.  You make words somewhat like in Scrabble, but the game is played more quickly.  It's fun and they are already learning more and more new words.
      If the weather stays sunny, I'll write again on Friday.  Tomorrow I have a full seven classes and thus not a free hour to write.
      Finally, it is as special as ever to be with Babushka Natasha. (Nikolai's aunt).  She is living a bit more "gently" these days, but once she is up and about she does not sit still for the whole day. There are dishes to wash, socks to mend, chickens to feed, even wood to gather for the banya.  Even when she is feeling a bit under the weather she simply carries on.  There are few people I respect more.  The day I arrived it was her 96th birthday.  I had a card and little present for her.  She was pleased with them, but then she looked up at me and said: "I was hoping you would give me a prayer."   And so I wrote out a simple prayer in Russian which she now keeps by her bedside.  It was a gentle reminder to me of what is valuable and not valuable in life, not only when you are 96, but 6 or 9 or any age!  --J
 

Friday, Sept. 5, 2008
(Via Peter, her stateside husband)

Jeannie has been unable to send or receive e-mails recently because of poor phone lines.  She called and gave me a brief update which she wanted me to pass along to you.  Here's what I was able to garnish from a very garbled connection.  The weather has turned hot again, so her toes and nose are no longer freezing.  Her work in the school couldn't be going better.  Yesterday, they (she and the students, I think) spent all day harvesting potatoes.  "It nearly did me in!" she said.  That's it.  I'm sorry this lacks all of her wonderfully descriptive prose!  I'm sure the lines will improve and the uncondensed episodes will resume soon.

Monday, September 8th
Vetoshkino village school
Sunny, low 70's
(Suddenly the weather turned warm and perfectly fall like)

Yesterday, (Sunday) Tatyana and I left the house at 9 am, walked about a mile to the roadside bus stop, and were picked up by a jolly white bus from the 1950's or 1960.  It bounced us down the road (like popcorn popping) for 45 minutes to the town of Urzhum.  Our tickets cost about 50 cents.  It left us off at the edge of town and from there we walked a little more than 2 miles to an internet cafe so that I could send you a letter.  We found the cafe, climbed 34 steps up to the second floor of the building only to find that it was unexpectedly closed for the day.  One of the adventures of Russia is that any establishment (it seems) can close whenever it likes if it is a good day to go fishing, harvest potatoes, or simply see relatives who arrived unexpectedly.  The reason wasn't posted on the hand written sign.  There were simply the words, "Closed today, come back tomorrow."  We decided on the way back to the bus stop, we'd stop by the outdoor market to lift our spirits.  Fortunately, I found myself a warm sweater, as well as lemon flavored toothpaste and a small school notebook.  Once again, "another feather" fell at our feet, as suddenly Tatyana heard someone calling her name.  It was Mikhail's (her husband's) nephew and his wife who were also shopping at the market.  They own a car and immediately offered to take us home although it was 20 miles out of their way.  On that note, by the way, gasoline is as costly here as it is at home.  Thus, it was truly dear of them to offer to drive us home.
     I am now sitting in the computer room at the school.  It is very impressive in that there are 10 shiny, new computers in a row which the students can now use.  They use them for everything except the internet because the internet works so slowly. For almost a week I haven't been able to get an internet connection, and for some reason when I do get a connection I can't read any mail, unfortunately.  Today I waited almost 30 minutes for the internet to load up to simply write this letter.  (And while I write, the director of the school is teaching a chemistry class. He is VERY strict, like something out of a movie.)  Thus I will send this off quickly while the connection lasts and write another short letter.  --J
 

Monday, Sept. 8th part II
Vetoshkino village school

I have two free hours on Monday, before my last class (the 11th grade class) and so I'll continue a bit more about life here while the internet is still working.  Each day I have seven classes with the exception of Fridays. On Fridays I have only three classes and as last Friday was the first gorgeous day here (sunny, dry, and in the mid-70's) everyone was in the fields harvesting potatoes.  (We went from snow showers one day to warm 70s the next!)  The post office closed, the small market closed and even school closed an hour early to take advantage of the good weather.
     I will NEVER look upon a potato in the same way again.  (Especially a big clean one.)  We worked about five hours on Friday digging up potatoes by hand and then peeling off the thick mud.  Because there has been so much rain, the ground was like lead.  The field workers Tatyana and Mikhail hired dug up the heavy clumps of potatoes with pitch forks while I freed the potatoes from layers of mud.  We repeated the process on Saturday from about 8 am until 7 pm taking only a 30 minute break for lunch.  I have never been so tired in my entire existence . . . and I was doing the easiest work!  We worked hard and long because the forecast was for rain on Sunday.  Thus those who were not so industrious worked under a constant drizzle all day Sunday.
     However difficult, it was a wonderful experience working along side the simplest of the villagers.  They chattered constantly and merrily like black birds.  It was one endless stream of words, none of which were important, but simply helped pass the time.  Little by little they became less shy and afraid of me and included me in their banter.  They are probably the least educated members of the village and so it was hard for me to understand them, none the less, I laughed when it seemed like I should laugh and we got on famously together.  They may be meek, simple people, but they are tireless.  I don't know how they are able to work as long and as hard as they do.  There is something amazingly harmless and innocent about them.  From such people no war would ever start, no famine would occur and no person would be without a home or food.  They give, they share, the help each other and even a stranger.  When I prided them for their strength and hard work, they shyly replied, "We can work with our hands, but you are intelligent.  God made you to work with your head!"  I assured them that their work was equally needed and honorable, and valued in God's sight.  (I noticed that they all wore aluminum, that is the most inexpensive, crosses, which hung from chains woven by hand with thread.) As I looked at them the Beatitude "Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth" took on a whole new meaning.
     They tried to be so polite and constantly stopped their work to help me do mine better.  Thus, I don't know if I was a help or a hindrance, but it was, it seems, at least an adventure for them to work with a "real American".  At one point one of the women shyly said to me, "You are the first real American we have ever seen.  You're very normal aren't you?"  I only laughed and continued to clean the mud off the potatoes before me. Sometimes I wonder . . . .  
 

Saturday, September 13th
Vetoshkino
Cold raw rain

For several days there has been nothing but cold, raw damp days.  The school is freezing and many children, unfortunately, are out ill. Yesterday the school director called for an all school meeting.  To my amazement, he sternly scolded the children for being ill.  He said, "You're here to study!  You can't study if you're ill.  Collect yourselves!  Dress warmly.  Walk briskly between classes.  Think about your studies!  There's no harm in cold air!  There's no reason to be ill!  Now everyone back to your classes.  Collect your strength, study hard, and don't be ill!"  The affect was amazing.  I had been feeling a little poorly and suddenly I was told that it was forbidden.  And so, I simply refused to think about it and had the best day I've had so far.
    The raw days have, indeed, occasionally gotten to me.  The day before yesterday I longed not only for warm sunshine, but for hot chocolate chip cooks, a real bathroom (with all the luxuries a real bathroom includes) and one hour alone.  Sometimes you cry for no reason but for the fact you're simply exhausted.
      The next day I was given the most successful day so far.  I wanted to cry for joy.  It seemed that, indeed, perhaps I've been able to help the children a bit.  Yesterday I taught all day alone as their regular English teacher (who I simply help everyday) needed to be gone all day. The children were angels.  They worked so hard to do their lessons well, to help me, and simply tried with all their might to be angels.
     Little by little the children have learned that I don't eat lunch. I stay in my classroom simply to have 30 minutes of quiet time.  But everyday more and more children arrive (after they have inhaled their lunch) to play English learning games.  Today there were no fewer than 20 children in the room playing four different games:  Scrabble, UNO (they have to say the numbers and colors in English), "Go Fish" (each card is a letter of the alphabet), and "Old Maid" (each card has a picture and word to increase their vocabulary).
     To accommodate all the children they play in pairs.  (i.e. thus instead of 4 children playing UNO, 8 play pairing up and working together).  The older children play "Go Fish" with the younger to help them learn the alphabet.  The oldest children listen to CDs of music I brought with me.  They have fallen in love with Josh Groban which thrills me as his songs are all positive and encouraging.
    The scene was truly touching and gave me hope that they'll continue when I'm gone.  The teachers are so thrilled to see them playing such games that they are now divising games to have available in their rooms.

     Two days ago I was given permission to build a lesson (for the middle and high schoolers) around Josh Groban's song Don't Give Up.  The hour began by telling them a bit about Josh Groban.  (I say everything first in English and then in Russian.)  I then played the song "Don't give up" and had them write the words they recognized. (The one who wrote the most words was given a bookmark.)  I then wrote out all the words on the blackboard.  We talked about the meaning of the song and finally they translated it into Russian.  The refrain goes:     

Everybody wants to be understood.  Well, I can hear you.
Everybody wants to be loved.  Don't give up because you are loved.
    
      They asked to hear the song again and again and yesterday during break between classes I overheard older kids going down the hall singing it.
     That's all for this letter.  I'm actually writing at home thanks to Sasha.  He and Luba and little Yulia arrived from Kirov.  Sasha brought his laptop and cell phone so that I could link up to the internet by Bluetooth and work from home.  AND, as a result, I was able to read your letters.  Thank you so much.  They are wonderful to receive.  I will send a second letter this afternoon.  --J

Saturday, Sept. 13th
Vetoshkino
2nd letter today while internet works

Many short vignettes:

    How I love Babushka.  When I get home from school we have about 30 minutes alone.  She always has something ready for me to eat.  The food has been simpler this time.  I now realize that when I'm here for only a week or 10 days they've given me their best food.  But this time I'm living as they normally live.  I've had meat just twice since I've been here.  Everyday we eat either potatoes (boiled or fried) or kasha (a thick milky rice) or macaroni (without the cheese) for our main meal at noon and then again for a light meal at night.  This is accompanied by bread and tea.  In addition we have either fresh cucumbers or tomatoes.  The fruit trees are ripening and each day we now have the
treat of either apples, plums or pears.
    When Babushka and I are alone she tells me about her life.  She bought two geese last spring.  She fattened them up all summer.  Cooked them for Sunday supper at the end of August and from the down made her little great-granddaughter (Yulia, my god-daughter) a down pillow for winter.  Thus, the geese and six months of tending to them were all for the sake of making Yulia a down pillow.  Babushka smiled contently and said, "It will last her her whole life."

     Babushka refuses to grow old.  Yesterday (Friday) after school the sun came out briefly.  As the forecast for Saturday was rain, Tatyana came home from work early and said we needed to harvest the carrots and beets.  Out we went and began to work.  We hadn't been working more than 15 minutes when Babushka arrived.  Tatyana whispered, "Ah, our commander has arrived to check the quality of our work."
     She quickly sized up my work, shook her head and sighed, rolled up her sleeves and began to work along side us.  She can work twice as fast as I can.  I it simply amazing.  The other evening she came in the banya while I was there.  (Usually she goes in alone.)  She is now so thin, but I was shocked.  There is not an ounce of fat on her.  However thin, she is 100% muscle.  Her strength is incredible.
     So the three of us worked side by side until the cows came home (at 7:00).  It was very pleasant.  Despite the work, the atmosphere was gentle, like sitting beside a lake at sunset.   A few words spoken here and there, hands meeting now and then among the beet and carrot greens, and a  hearty laugh when I did something stupid.

     I don't think I said that when we harvested the potatoes, it was in a field about a third the width of a football field. . . . and TWO football fields in length.  For what I could estimate, we harvested nearly 200-50 lb bags of potatoes.
 

Sunday, Sept. 14th
Vetoshkino
Cold rain, but warm inside

Dear, dear friends,
    Two days now I have been able to read your letters.  This time I cried simply because I was so touched by your dear, warm, and kind words and encouragement.  Thank you sincerely.  What a gift to have such friends.
    Very briefly about "child care" here.  Little Yulia has been here for the weekend with Sasha and Luba.  There has been a stream of aunts, uncles, grandmas and grandpas to be with her.  This, of course, is not the case in every family, but I'm quite sure that this is nonetheless a typical family.  A child is simply the constant care of all.  They talk to her, sing to her, play with her, teach her, comfort her, and on and on and on.  She is never left in front of a television or without something specific to learn or discover.  I think I mentioned earlier that I thought she was already three going on four, only to be shocked to learn that she is going to be two on Oct. 13th.  She has the vocabulary of a five or six- year-old.  She simply loves to learn and I am in awe of how they encourage her learning.
     It is very dear to see such family attention.  Yulia gets passed around from the arms of one to the arms of another and is happy with all and melts the hearts of all.  I've taken 1000s of pictures of her and will put them on the website when I get home.  Sasha and Luba are now packing up to head home and so I need to conclude this.  Don't know when I'll get on the internet again, but I'll try each day.  Thank you again for your incredibly wonderful letters.  --J
 

Sunday, Sept. 21, 2008
(Via Peter, her stateside husband and humble scribe)

Raindrops again scrambled the internet connection this week in Vetoshkino.  Jeannie managed to get a call out on a satellite phone by going up into Tatyana's attic and standing with her head among the hanging dried fish and onions!  They finally had a couple of days of sunny, warmer weather, which promises to continue into this week.  The harvesting is basically over, so her days are not as physically demanding.  The digging and cleaning of beets, carrots, potatoes and turnips are largely the job of the women and children.  Now the men are hard at work bringing in firewood for the winter, which like the harvesting, the villages seem to do cooperatively.  She also reports that they finally turned the heat on in the school, ahead of the normal October 1st date.  While her heart was warmed by the children, a few BTU's are very welcomed by her nose and feet!  The children's response has continued to be the real fuel of her time there.  They have been so wonderful and everyday she gets handmade gifts from them.  Her suitcase will certainly be bulging, and it will be great fun to unpack it with her!  The improved weather bodes well for the internet this week, so I expect we will be getting much richer literary fare from her this week.

Sept. 24th,
Vetoshkino

School is simply wonderful.  Five of the eight students I've been working with from Votckoya (whose school closed) have already been able to join the regular English classes here in Vetoshkino thanks to the wonders of ESL. The 3 remaining boys find it very hard to sit still and remember the difference between "8" and "H", but their smiles are so enormous and endearing that it is impossible to be angry with them for constantly squirming. 
     I only learned yesterday that no less than 4 surrounding village schools closed this year, thus the 8 children I have been helping from Votckoya (they had already been learning German and needed to switch to English here) are only a handful of students living here away from home so as to continue in school.  Yesterday I visited the dormitory where they live and was met by well over 20 students, the oldest being 17 and the youngest only 6!  They are all so dear and hungry for love.  There is a very dear woman who is with them during the day, to feed them and help them with their homework.  Another woman spends the night with them.  They are wonderful about caring for each other, still I can't imagine children as young as 6, 8 and 10 living away from home so as to be able to go to school.  A bus collects them each Friday afternoon and takes them home and then brings them back Monday morning.  That in itself is a miracle as before they needed to walk the five or six miles to school and back each weekend.
     The children first showed me their sleeping quarters, then where they eat and where they play.  We then gathered in the boys large room and sat on the beds while the oldest boy, Kostya, played the guitar and sang.
    When it was time for me to go home, several of the children asked if they could walk me home.  There I found some wonderful games I had brought with me and gave to the children to share with everyone.  There were various ball games for the boys and several "jewelry" making kits for the girls.  The littlest boy, Kiril, who sleeps with the girls, to him I gave a stuffed toy to sleep with at night.
     Children here truly pay a huge price for the privilege of learning.
 

Thursday, Sept. 25th
Kokorevo Village
Gorgeous warm, sunny day

      Today we did our eighth library project in the village of Kokorevo and, while all of the projects have been wonderful, this one felt like the most successful we have ever done, I am so grateful to say.  It takes no less than seven family members to do a library project and unselfishness beyond words.
      First, Mikhail carried the money ($3,000) to Kirov and changed it into rubles.  He then gave the money to Sasha and Luba (his son and daughter-in-law) as they would be the ones picking out the books.  In the meantime Tatyana (wife of Mikhail) called the school in Kokorevo to learn from the teachers, director, and librarian what kind of books they wanted.  They were told to write down every possible book they could think of that would be helpful and loved and we would try to buy as many of them as we could.
     When the list was ready, Sasha and Luba spent three full days (Sasha took one day off from work) walking the streets of Kirov and combing the shelves of every bookstore (small and large) to find the books.  (They deserve medals for their patience and for the simply outstanding books they found.)   Then they borrowed another family member's car (in Kirov) that could survive village roads and made the 2 1/2 hour trip to Vetoshkino with all the books in the trunk.
     When they arrived about 10 p.m. yesterday evening, Tatyana and I began to paste bookplates inside each book that said, "Congratulations on your 100th anniversary from your friends in America."  I hand wrote out the message (in Russian) on nearly 200 bookplates.  By midnight we had pasted all the bookplates into the books.
     Then today, Auntie Vera arrived to babysit little Yulia while we went off to Kokorevo.  Finally Babushka fixed all the meals and washed all the dishes so that Tatyana would be free to go with us.  Thus, seven family members to do a library.
     My only request to Sasha and Luba was to buy the best quality books they could find.  (i.e. quality is far more important that quantity.) They found simply gorgeous encyclopedias, history and art books and, for the first time, Luba choose several etiquette books!  Of course there were atlases, dictionaries, and language books.  There were the classics as well as modern story books.  They found "project books" (i.e. how to make things out of paper or wood, for example) and finally they found several books on various professions . . . everything from computer jobs to hairstyling work.
     It is more accurate to say that we did one "large" library project and two small projects.  Given the low worth of the dollar and the rising price of books, I am truly thrilled that they were able to buy nearly 200 books as they were all hardbound and in color.  In addition, we bought over 100 English language school books for Vetoshkino (where I am teaching these weeks) and finally, late last night we decided to choose 20 books from the books for Kokorevo and give to the children's home here in Vetoshkino so that in the evenings the children who must live here away from home would have wonderful new books to enjoy.  For the children's home we choose a gorgeous large fairy tale book, a book on how to make paper airplanes (really wonderful designs) and how to make paper animals, a book called The 4000 Most Interesting Facts In the World, a couple of children detective stories, and a book of puzzles. There was even a book that came with special glasses and when you looked through them, the pictures in the book changed.
     The most touching part of every library project is the warmth that comes from working together.  Every year it is a glorious few hours when it is possible to imagine another world in which harmony reigns.
     The other reason it was the most successful is that the teachers and children in Kokorevo quickly adjusted to a newcomer.  Newcomers are rare in these villages -- let alone a foreigner.  Again, I was the first American that had ever been in the village.  Thus it is huge when the children can overcome their shyness and come up to me and talk.
     All the children (62) and teachers (19) gathered in their small auditorium to first learn about our organization and my life in New Hampshire.  Then, for the first time, we brought in the books while all the teachers and children were there.  (Usually the books are taken immediately to the library.)  The children were then free to break open the boxes and explore the new books.  It was simply wonderful, beyond words, to see their joy and delight.
     While the children explored the books I was given a tour of the school and then I returned to the auditorium and simply stood quietly while the children poured over the books.  One by one they overcame their shyness and came up to talk and ask me questions:  What kind of music do I like?  Do I like Russian food?  (Forgive me God that I didn't answer entirely honestly when I said, "Yes, of course!")  How did I learn Russian?  What is my favorite book?  One child even asked if I would write a story for them in Russian and send it to them?  And the final question, Will I come back to visit them again?
     The children then went home and we (Sasha, Luba, Tatyana and I) were taken to the lunch room where they had prepared a lovely meal for us.
     Thus, there are now shiny new books in Kokorevo, in the English language room in Vetoshkino and in the children's home here.
     I could not ask for more in terms of fulfilling the desire and unselfishness of all of you in America who make the libraries possible. It is a day to say, "Thank you, God." 

Friday, September 26th
Votckoye
Partly sunny

I am now sitting in the kitchen of Luba's parents' house.  They too are like family to me.  Sasha and Luba drove me here to see old friends and when I finish writing this we will then go to Mweesee where I was given a home several years ago.  I have learned that even since last year, another dozen families have left Mweesee.  It is truly heartbreaking as it is such a beautiful place and the homes, the most beautiful of any village homes I've seen.  The  homes are truly works of art, but with the collapse of the Soviet Union their work collapsed too.  This region used to supply huge amounts of grain and flour to the state.  But now there is simply no work and so all the young families have been forced to move to Kirov.  Only the elderly remain.  In any case, we will go to Mweesee to see the home I was given and to visit Aunties Vera and Ava. They very much befriended me the summer I lived briefly in Mweesee.

     Briefly I'll just write to say that the school children have begun to realize that soon I will be gone and each day they show up with little presents.  At times it has felt like I was here an eternity and at other times it has felt like a moment, but every day the children were my joy.  Today, the brothers Zhenya and Anton presented me with an absolutely gorgeous matrushka doll.  I have never seen such a large or beautiful one.  It is simply incredible.  Their mother came to school with them simply to thank me for helping her children.  She walked some four miles simply to say "thank you".
      Other children come with little stories they have tried to write in English.  Today Vitalik (the one who shared his cookies with me the first day) presented me with a story (in English) about a magic stone. (I will write his original version of the story the next time I'm on the internet.  It's not here with me at the moment.)  But the long and short of it is, that the stone was left in the bright summer sunlight and turned into a bar of chocolate.  When you broke off a piece, the stone immediately filled back in and the piece you ate reappeared to eat again.  Vitalik concluded the story by saying that he sold the magic stone for $1 million and lived happily ever after.
      Once again today I taught alone as the regular English teacher needed to be in Kirov all day.  Perhaps because the children know I will soon be gone, they were all simply angels today -- even Kostya, my constant joker.  Kostya is incredibly (incredibly!) bright but was made, it seems, including an "Eveready Battery" that never runs out.  In any case, even Kostya was an angel today.
      I will teach on Monday and Tuesday.  Wednesday is a holiday in the village in honor of the oldest residents.  They will gather in the "hall of culture" and all the children will perform songs and dances for them.  I will then take Thursday off to pull together my things and on Friday I'll head back to Kirov.  I will live there two days and then on the 6th of Oct.  I'll head back by overnight train to Moscow where I'll again stay with Andrei and Natasha.  They want to take me to the famed home of Leo Tolstoy which I'd very much like to see.
      In any case, these days with the children are the most special and warm.  At times it feels like something out of a movie.  Even those who seemed hopeless in remembering the difference between "i" and "e" or between "hello" and "good-bye" (little Sveta entered the classroom each day saying loudly and proudly "Good-bye!") . . . they all seem to have come around and learned an amazing amount in just a month.

      Little Yulia has just awakened from her nap and so now I must close and we will head off to Mweesee.  Thank you for all your kind letters.They are very, very appreciated.  --J

Saturday, Sept. 27
Vetoshkino, from Sasha’s computer
First snow

      The first snow is falling and melting as it hits the ground, but they say that one month after the first snow, snow will lay on the ground for the rest of the winter.
      Yesterday we made the journey to Mwesee. Each year as we tumble down the road in Uncle Kolya’s pale green, ancient truck I wonder how to describe such a journey. At times it’s like being on safari in Africa as the summer grasses are higher than the truck’s roof. At other times we plunge into mud and ruts so deep that they cover the tires. And every moment you are tossed up and down, left and right . . . all the while hoping that the juggling, tossing, and turning will continue . . . for if it stops, it means we are stuck.
      The road this year was considerably longer. The three former roads were virtually washed out by a summer of rain. The “new” road is twice as long, at times going in the opposite direction until it can find a place to turn back and head toward the village.  Uncle Kolya masterfully drove, while Luba and little Yulia sat on the medal dome in the center that covers the gears (or covers something that makes the truck run). Next to the window sat Auntie Emilya. In the back of the truck Sasha and I road atop thick mounds of fresh cut clover covered by rugs and blankets. With us were a dear elderly man and wife who we simply picked up on the road and gave a ride home.
      We went directly to Babushka Vera’s house. She and I sat on little stools with our backs resting against the warm wood stove. Soon people began to appear as if out of nowhere until the house was full of relatives. The last to appear was Uncle Genya who jumped down from the woodstove with a huge beaming smile, thick fluffly white hair and huge white eyebrows. He has the type of face and smile that immediately wins you over. "Don't worry," he laughed, "I'm the last one." In all there were eight of us who sat around all evening simply talking and laughing. It was the most pleasant evening I've had since I've been here. The light in the house was dim but glowing and the people truly dear. I so wanted to photograph all of them but didn't have the courage to ask them. They immediately turn shy, and as the atmosphere was so warm and close I didn't want to ruin it.

 I'm not sure when I'll be able to write again. Hopefully from school on Monday.
 

Monday, Sept. 29th
Vetoshkino, Chemistry/Computer classroom
Winter weather

       I finally got smart.  I am wearing my coat and hat to write this.  It is not only because the chemistry room is always cold, but because school is colder on Mondays, especially if the sun is not shining.  They turn off the heat over the weekend and last weekend was truly freezing, thus the building today didn't heat up all day although the heat was turned on.
       Even the cows are complaining.  Last night I heard Molly mooing all night.  Tatyana and Mikhail have a mother cow, Kroshka, and last year she gave birth to a calf.  The calf was part of our annual "name that calf" contest and the winning name was Molly.  Molly is a real sweetheart. Everyday after school I stop by here outdoor stall to give her some clover and pet her.  She's more like a huge dog than a cow.  She rubs her head against my shoulder and when my hand is worn out scratching her chin, it's then her turn to lick my hand.  Her tongue is 100 times rougher than a cat's and so I can take only about five minutes of her affection before I head inside where Babushka's hot soup awaits me.
       Tomorrow is my last day teaching. Wednesday is a holiday and it is still not certain if I will head to Kirov on Thursday or Friday.  It depends on Sasha's work schedule and his ability to come get me.
       The strongest impressions from these school days is the freezing cold building, the warmth of the children and how eager they are to learn. Children, of course, are children everywhere.  Alosha simply loves to make his chair squeak, Kostya loves to imitate animal sounds, and Vadim simply cannot resist pulling Kristina's long beautiful braid and untying the bow. Still, there is an atmosphere of learning that is strong and enviable. There is no question that it is not only the result of the teachers' dedication, but the demands the school and the village place on the parents to help their children learn well.      
       As I suspected, my role was not so much to teach and to create lesson plans, as to create warmth.  I can't remember if I wrote to say that the director of the school, the English language teacher, and one student all wrote articles for the regional newspapers about my time here.  They were not only touching, but the best "pay" we all could receive for the effort it's taken (by many, many people) to do this year's project.  I can only hope that the articles perhaps might work in a few human hearts like yeast in dough, changing cool perceptions and feelings into warmer ones.
       Every couple of days I have been making a wonderful bread recipe that is both easy, fast and can be kept in the refrigerator for up to two weeks. Every couple of days I make three small loaves: one for us and two to give away. I don't know how many times I've written out the recipe for various villagers, but the best result of all is that it actually won Babushka's approval.  The first time I made it she shook her head and muttered, "Ah, my dull little American!  There's nothing in that bread!"  (Russian's prefer black bread which is, unquestionably heartier.)  But finally I convinced her to try it straight out of the oven.  She smiled and said nothing.  Only later did she come up to me and say, "That was good."  And so now the third small loaf is for Babushka.
       Almost all the work in the garden is done.  We tied up the raspberry plants on Saturday and cut away all the dead growth.  The only thing left is to plant the garlic bulbs which are planted now and not in the spring. All that is left at school is to say good-bye and then I will be on my way back to city life.  When I return home, my hope is to find a way to publish an alphabet book I devised while I was here to make it easier to learn the alphabet in English.  It was surprisingly, even amazingly, successful.  The only question is how to get it published here.  In any case, I will do enough copies for the villages where we've done library projects.
       There is much more to write about these days, but my fingers are freezing, thus I will end.  If I can't write again from Vetoshkino I will write this weekend from Kirov.  --J
 

Saturday, Oct. 4th
The last day in Vetoshkino and the last letter from the village
Warm, sunny idyllic day

     My last day in Vetoshkino could not be more beautiful in every way. The weather is gorgeous, the whole large family has gathered and soon we will head off to the woods to do "shashlik" or Russian barbeque. We head home late this evening, I'll gather my few belongings and Sasha, Luba, Yulia, and I will head off to Kirov. I'll be there Sunday and Monday and then Monday evening I'll head off to Moscow by train.
     The last three days here have been spent visiting various relatives and participating in various community gatherings. (My last day teaching was October 1st.) The plans for these last days changed 1000 times as always happens here but now I simply let each day happen as it will without concern. My work, in the end, has not been to teach but to be with people and let them give me the Russia they want me to know. It takes as much energy as teaching to participate in endless gatherings, but inevitably the meetings are touching.
     Two days ago I was given a wonderful pair of new valenki (felt winter boots). The same day Uncle Vasya arrived and offered to sew a heavy felt sole and heel on them so that they would last longer. (It is specialized work from days gone by that few still know how to do.) I followed him home to watch and photograph the process. It is incredibly hard on the hands even though he wore heavy leather gloves (without fingers). While he worked, Auntie Vera made waffles with jam and tea from berries. She showed me every inch of their wonderful old home. It was important for me to see, because the constant activity of the home in which I've lived leaves it constantly as if a small tornado swept through. However, Uncle Vasya's and Auntie Vera's house was wonderfully spotless with each thing in its place.
     Russian houses at first seem small but they are an incredible combination of small buildings and storage places all held under one large roof. Wooden walk-ways lead you to the various buildings and sheds. In one area you will see the wood stacked almost two stories high, in another, the walk-way leads you to the banya, another leads you to the winter shed that will hold all the canned goods and another will hold the root vegetables. The far end of the complex is always the barn. Somewhere in between is the outhouse and chicken coup. In addition, Uncle Vasya has a wonderful workshop (equally orderly) and another shed where he keeps his fishing gear and where salt fish are strung up to dry.
     There was actually one other house I visited in Votskoye that was  equally magical. The house itself, with its wonderful wooden beams and walls, gave a hint of the heights the village homes once attained. That house too was immaculate and perfectly orderly. Beautiful handmade lace curtains and cloths enclosed the sleeping areas and lay on the tables. In all honestly, I could not help but wonder what my time would have been like here had I lived in such a house. The most elderly Russians are, to me, the most interesting. They have lived through such incredible times and learned to do everything out of nothing. Indeed, while I was in the house in Votckoye where Uncle Kolya and Auntie Paraskoya live, Uncle Kolya gifted me a simply incredible handmade basket. (Uncle Kolya is the beautiful elderly man in the documentary film we did who is shown playing the accordion.) Both he and his wife are the type of people whose hands turn everything around them to gold.
     These days in Vetoshkino have been as wonderful as they have been demanding and complex. School was wonderful and the people everywhere the most warm and welcoming they have ever been. Complete strangers have not been shy to come up to me to talk awhile, or to give me a freshly picked pear or apple, or simply their kind smile. During the last three days when I was not teaching, groups of children arrived every afternoon after school, bringing little gifts they had made, and sitting in my room happily munching cookies and telling me their dreams.
     Yet, it has truly been demanding living in such close quarters. Seeing more intimately how food is prepared and stored has made it more difficult to eat this time. Yet, if I have seen everything "up close and personal" it is because this family and these people have totally trusted me and that is worth everything. It would be both wrong and cruel to judge their way of life, or to leave an unfavorable impression when they have done so much, and tried so hard, to do all they could to make these days easy for me. Our ways of living are truly very, very different, but in the things that matter most we can easily meet each other and give much to each other. Until tomorrow from Kirov.

Early Sunday morning, Oct. 5th
Kirov
A gorgeous warm day

Our day in the woods yesterday could not have been more special.  The weather was wonderfully warm and clear, and the woods ablaze with color.  We drove about 15 minutes down the main road from Vetoshkino and then turned off and headed across a field to a distant large grove of birch and pine trees.  Many years ago it was the site of a village called Tulubane.  It lay along the banks of a little river that supplied the village with water and fish.  You cannot fathom how many villages now lay empty and silent within distant groves of trees.  There is nothing left of Tulubane as all the wooden homes were destroyed in a large fire years ago.  We visited another village, however, called Shearkino, where "Old Believers" once lived.  They were wealthy and all the homes made of brick.  The roofs are now gone and the houses themselves nothing but shells, but the outer walls alone hint at what a magnificent village it once was.
     Yesterday's gathering included about a dozen people (all relatives of the Reshetnikov family with whom I've been living).  The real surprise and gift of the day was that Babushka agreed to come with us. During the weeks here, it was truly special to have quiet hours alone with her working in the garden or in the fields.  She doesn't talk when it isn't needed but when she does say something it is often as the result of having thought long and hard about why something is the way it is, or what has gone amiss when things are not as they should be.  More than all else, she ponders constantly why she was given the unspeakably hard life she was given.
      No one could remember the last time Babushka had participated in a barbeque, or even when she had last ventured beyond the farm house.  It was both unselfish and courageous of her.  A week before when I came home from work I found her in the barn.  She had fallen into a small space and could not get out.  I was able to pick her up and tend to her wounds.  We sat next to the woodstove where I wrapped her in a blanket
until she had collected herself again.  A half hour later she was back to work.
      When I told her yesterday that her being with us was the best gift of all, she simply smiled and said nothing.  The men had arrived before us and had a fire going and fish soup boiling.  Potatoes lay in the coals baking.  While we ate the fish soup, huge chunks of chicken were laid out on racks to fry.  There were two small children who played and provided us with entertainment.  The radio in the hay truck was turned on and, to my surprise, everyone began to dance, including the grandmas and grandpas.  I moved from spot to spot taking photographs of the happy event.  I then hiked through the fields to try to take some landscape shots though they always fall far short of the real thing.
     When I returned, the women were heading off to swim in the river. It was a warm fall day, but nonetheless I couldn't fathom swimming in the cold river.  They plunged in with delight laughing and splashing away.  I went back to sit with Babushka.  She sat sipping tea by the fire and seemed truly content looking at the happy family that was hers.
        We packed up about 5 pm and headed home.  By 6 pm Sasha, Luba, Yulia and I were on our way to Kirov, the difficult good-byes and bittersweet days already left behind.  There was so much about those days that was primitive and taxing -- and yet, again and again, the people themselves humbled me with their love and kindness, their courage and abilities, their sheer love of life (life itself, not things).  My life is richer thanks to them.  More tomorrow.  --J
 

Sunday afternoon, Oct. 5th
Kirov
Summer like day

     We've just returned from town and our adventure was such that it seemed to justify another short letter today.
     When I studied Russian in Vladimir some five years ago, one of the students in the group broke her glasses and needed to get new ones.  She came back to school the next day wearing her new glasses, saying they were the best she had ever had.  The doctor had recommended that the prescription be less strong so that her eyes naturally would improve. She had further said that there was no need to think about getting new glasses for several years.  At the time I was deeply impressed with the eye doctor's expectation that our eyes should grow stronger with use and that the less we thought about it and went about our business the better.  Remembering that, we called to see if I could get an
appointment as the glasses I ordered last fall at home -- after three attempts and huge bills to get them right -- were still awful.
      One hour after we called I was sitting in the optometrist's office.  She examined my eyes in less than 15 minutes and her advice was the same as I remembered.  ONE HOUR later my new glasses and frames were ready.  They are the best I've ever had . . . and all for the sum of $35.  During the hour we waited for my glasses to be made, we went to a candy store where I bought a huge beautiful box of chocolates (for $3) to give to the four women working in the office.  Thus, my new glasses in actuality cost $38.
 

October 11th
New Hampshire and home
Warm, sunny, and peak of fall colors
The last letter

    On the plane home I started a list of all the remarkably kind things strangers had done for me on this trip: the taxi driver who loaned me his telephone upon arrival in Moscow, the couple who gave us a ride home from Urzhum after we had traveled some 30 miles in vain to try to use the internet, the conductress on the train to Kirov who realized I was a foreigner and brought me my dinner on a plate (and with a warm smile) instead of leaving it in the plastic container, the villager in Vetoshkino who learned that I hadn't been able to find valenki (felt boots) my size (short and wide).  She phoned relatives in another village who called other relatives, who called their friend that makes them.  Three days later they were on my feet.
    Then there was the young man at the train station in Moscow three or four days ago.  When I arrived, my friends were still on their way to the station, stuck in a traffic jam.  My suitcase weighed a ton, the station was mobbed, and before me were some 50 or more steps up from the platform to the station itself.  I began the arduous process of hauling the suitcase up one step at a time.  People were backed up behind me, trying to get past.  Suddenly I felt another hand next to mine on the suitcase.  A very young man, maybe 16 or 17, had hold of the suitcase.  "I'll take it to the top for you."  He was off and, within seconds, standing at the top of the stairs waiting for me.  He simply smiled, handed it back to me, and was gone.
    Then there were the infinite number of things my friends, the villagers, and the children did constantly for me.  In short, there was not only an outpouring of kindness -- but a yearning for kindness between people and nations.
    I leave this trip more conscious than any other trip that we must break the culture of broadcasting endless darkness -- as if it were normal or had anything to do with life.  We not only suffer greatly from that mistake, but are robbed of the all the goodness, warmth, kindness and love that is there -- and everywhere. 

    Again, thank you all sincerely for reading along.  Hopefully pictures will be up on the website within a week or two.  --J