Denver, really?

I will not repeat it here due to length, but there is a Chinese folk tale about a man and his son and their horse and a broken leg...well, it's a long story. But the moral of the story is that sometimes when something happens it may seem like it is bad, but really it is good. And when it looks good, it may be bad. I guess this sounds like the moral of the story is that you cannot take anything at face value, or that you should always be optimistic, unless something good happens, then maybe negative is ok. Or perhaps it is about contradiction, how it exists and we should just accept that. Really, the story is about a horse, but in any case, disregarding the horse, I have learned in the last five days that all these things apply to Russia.

My story is about a lost bag. A beautiful blue bag, filled with all kinds of essential items, all picked out meticulously to meet my needs on this particular trip. But with that bag, I would have missed my flight, not fit on the first marshuke ride to Tula (where Dana teaches and lives) and would have altogether a harder time getting around, as it weighs far more than twice the one I now carry. So I guess my horse with a broken leg has turned out in my favor after all. I can only hope that if the bag has made it all the Denver in the last two weeks, it will make it back home unharmed.

Perhaps the most important thing a person needs when attempting to survive in a police state is optimism. I have never considered myself to be an optimist; a cynic at best. However, I have found myself saying things like, 'maybe today' or 'it's bound to work out somehow,' over and over here. Weather or not I believe these things when I say them, is evern unknown to myself. But it is a mark of the country's effect on me that I say them.

I do however love the food.