The Curmudgeon Speaks

We were not back in the U.S. for more than a few hours than we found ourselves in trouble with the law. Our killer dog, Wriggly, was staying at a kennel. We always have our dog groomed when we kennel our dog for an extended period of time. It is just a convenient way to make certain that his hair is not too long and he is more comfortable on hot summer days.

I have included a picture of the dog (above) so you can judge the true danger he presents. Anyway, Wriggly is kind of arrogant and aloof and not one of those dogs who assumes his masters can do no wrong. He seems to think he is the master and the rest of us are around to amuse him. We were using a different, but very nice kennel because we were staying in Wisconsin before we left for a three-week trip to Russia. A very, very nice place (the kennel, not all of Russia). Their procedure for grooming begins with a bath – kind of a doggie spa approach. Evidently, Wriggle was not a fan of the soap and water treatment and freaked out. He bit the handler on the thumb. You can see just what kind of damage he might do.

My experiences with tick bites earlier in the summer seemed kind of similar. The bite on my foot seemed to lead to some inflammation so I checked with the doctor for a treatment. Evidently, dog bites, unlike tick bites, are a public health issue and doctors are required to report such injuries to the Department of Public Health. The department then sends a registered letter to the owner of the dog threatening jail time and euthanasia of the animal if the dog is not taken to a vet and cleared of rabies and other deadly diseases. Of course, we were initially out of the country and as it turned out, in peril of a six month stint in jail. Within 10 days, you must report to a vet three times with the last visit on the 10th day and have the vet certify that the dog is showing no sign of rabies. We will make two visits in Wisconsin and one in North Dakota. We walk in for our initial visit and the vet begins laughing. “Do you think I will be safe”, was his initial comment.

I understand the need to protect the public and the need to establish rules that apply to all, but this was not exactly a case in which a mad dog was roaming the neighborhood. Throw me into a soapy swimming pool without explanation and I might react too.

We have returned after spending three weeks traveling in Russia and I thought I would write a final piece based on our trip.

We saw a lot of the country and we spent our time with an unusual collection of Russian citizens. This was not a tour and living and traveling with these people offered experiences you would never have as part of a tour. Our experiences remind me of the advice given students taking advantage of a study abroad program not to go with other students they know. Live with the people you want to learn from.

One reason international travel is valuable is that it challenges stereotypes you may have had before your trip. What I know about Russia I had learned from CNN, a couple of books contrasting international models of education, and Tom Clancy novels.

Having said this, stereotypes persist because there is often a grain of truth here or there that one recognizes in actual situations. I have generated the following list that summarize some interesting experiences we had. I think with a little embellishment, some type of storyline, and a reordering of the events, I could fashion a credible “Clancy” novel of my own. All of the following experiences were real.

A roadside encounter with a gypsy. A man gesturing wildly runs into the road on the highway leading to Moscow. We stop and open the window. I am sitting in the front passenger seat. The man leans through the window and immediately places a large gold ring (I mean large) on my knee and begins pleading for assistance. Of course, I speak no Russian. Our friend, the driver, speaks to the man. The man assumes our friend is Muslim and calls him brother. All I recognize is the phrase “Allahu Akbar,” and all I see is the two of them passing the gold ring back and forth and the man bowing to the driver. The man pleading for help keeps placing the ring on my knee. Our driver finally just begins slowly pulling away. The man is pleading for money to purchase gasoline. Our driver explains that he told the man, I am not Muslim and you have no way to purchase gas with any money I give you. He explains the ring is not gold but a nickel fake often sold to those who do not know better.

Boating on the Volga. One of the guys we met had just shipped in a boat from Florida and took us for a cruise on the Volga. We found a sand bar, beached the boat, and had lunch. Lots of opportunities for photos. This guy has a construction business and is building some of the structures for the olympics in Sochi.

We hang out in the dacha of a drug dealer. A dacha is a small area of land that is typically enclosed by a fence and grouped with many other similar parcels of land. A dacha gives city dwellers a chance to escape from their flats (small apartments) and get out into the country in order to have a small garden and a break from the crush of city life. Individual dachas are developed in very different ways depending on the resources, skill, and motivation of the residents. We actually saw this a lot in Russia – a space that looked generic and plain on the outside (of the fence in this case) and interesting and individualized on the inside. The “drug dealer”? – I noticed when we drove up to one dacha we spent time at that the walls of the dacha were topped with shards of glass – obviously an inexpensive defense against anyone who might want to scale the wall. I asked about this unusual defense and was told the owner I knew had purchased the dacha that had previously been owned by a drug dealer who used this location as part of his business and because of the opportunity to use a boat located on the river (a channel of the Volga) that backed the property as an escape route.

Vodka and caviar. Yes, we did have vodka and caviar. We had lots of great food. These folks (guys included) really liked to cook and we experienced many foods that were new to us. Cindy added several recipes to her collection.

I visit the American embassy and am detained at the gate. We have the connections we have in Russia because of Cindy’s work with technology applications in classrooms and the educators she has met on previous trips. Cindy and one of her Russian colleagues were invited to the embassy to discuss their work with technology and exchanges among technology using educators with embassy officials. I got to go along. The security was very impressive and I was not well prepared. I did not have my passport – I assumed I would be trusted. My North Dakota drivers license was eventually accepted as proof of my identity. Then there was that issue with the several shell casings and bullets in my camera bag. This may seem unusual (the embassy guards certainly thought so), but there was a very logical explanation. A son of one of the families we met in Volgograd had a metal detector and used it to find WWII relics. These relics were everywhere even this many years later. He presented me with the shell casings and an exploded mortar round as a present. These gifts ended up being a challenge to explain on several occasions (especially to Russian officials screening us for our plane trip home). These items are easy to see when your possessions go through a metal detector and immediately generate a great deal of interest. Try explaining why you are carrying such goods to someone who has a very limited command of English. A kid gave them to me! My possessions – my camera, my driver’s license, my shells, my fitbit (this was also novel so I just handed it over without trying to explain what it was) were left at the gate while we were inside. I have only pictures of the outside of the embassy.

We are given several large containers of mystery liquors and take them out of Russia in our bags. Homebrewing is becoming popular in the U.S.. The hobby seems to focus on beer and wine in our country. Russians prefer the hard stuff. We had vodka somehow made from honey and from traditional ingredients on many occasions. I trained for the drinking of vodka before I left and could pretty much keep up. On a different occasion a friend showed us two large jars (pickle jars) of mystery liquors and opened them in our honor. Before sampling, he tested the alcohol content of each liquid by lighting them on fire. He gave us large bottles of each to take home. I think these got through customs, but I am unsure because our bags have yet to arrive. We are still not sure what we have, but I have decided to call one brandy and another bourbon.

We take a road trip from Volgograd to Saint Petersburg avoiding interception by the police. The way most Russians drive is difficult to describe. Imagine a road packed with more trucks than you have ever encountered on an US interstate. Imagine many of these trucks are belching black smoke and seem unable to move at more than 40 mph (I am converting from the metic for you). Imagine the worst traffic jam you have ever experienced (Moscow on a Friday when everyone is heading to a dacha). Imagine crowding all of this into a two lane road with some of the deepest pot holes you have ever experienced. Now add Russian drivers. These guys (mostly guys it seemed) are insane and the rules that seem to govern their behavior beyond my understanding. They pull out to pass a dozen trucks in the face of oncoming traffic and assume that the vehicles in their lane will provide an opening to let them back in should it appear they cannot accomplish a pass. If passing in this fashion seems unlikely, they pull off onto the right shoulder and accelerate until they see an opening or encounter an obstacle (a sign, a bridge) that requires they try to get back on the road. They attempt to pull around vehicles stopped at stop signs. I never did understand some of this. The payoff for many of these moves seemed so small. Why attempt to pull around a vehicle or two at a stoplight? Many roads are not marked into lanes as you might expect. There is traffic going one way and traffic going the other, but all going one direction appear to be given great flexibility in deciding exactly how many lanes exist. The exertion required to drive like this for 5-6 hours must have been immense. Then there were the means to avoid the police. I rarely saw anyone stopped (you can be pulled over for what seemed to be random checks, but this did not happen to us). In Russia, you can be sent a ticket for speeding when your license plate is captured by a device that takes a picture of your car. This correspondence is referred to as a “letter of happiness”. Everyone seems to use radar detection equipment and the device in our cars were constantly beeping. We then searched for the hidden cameras and waved (just to amuse ourselves) when we passed. High speed was maintained until the radar warnings sounded.

We make purchases in the markets. Goods exchange hands in Russia in ways most of us rarely experience. The open air markets are an example. You can find pretty much whatever you want in the market – meat, vegetables, car parts, construction supplies. Bring money – no checks and no credit cards. We were told checks are very difficult to cash. I was searching for a certain type of glass for tea – a metal base with a separate glass container. I was told by my host not to speak because that would immediately greatly increase the price (this appeared to be the policy in many places including many official tourist sites that double the price of admission for foreign visitors). I mostly looked stern as the bargaining proceeded.

Military helicopters overhead. Along the road to Moscow there must be a training base for helicopter pilots. For a while, we could hear the chop, chop, chop overhead as we drove.

Is everyone here named Natasha or Dmitry? We probably spent time with a total of a 12 to 15 people. The variety of names seemed to be limited. Most of the women seemed to be named Natalia/Natasha and there were also several Dmitrys (Dima is the nickname).

I was in Moscow when Edward Snowdon was allowed to leave the Moscow airport and granted a one-year opportunity to live in Russia. No, I make no claim for meeting Mr. Snowdon.

We did meet a computer security expert and undercover agents. You will have to trust me on this – it would be inappropriate to share any more.

There you have it – the ingredients for my Russian novel. We met great and unbelievable giving people who live under very different circumstances. Ours was a very unique travel experience and our connections with these people will continue.

We are driving with our hosts from Volgograd to Lipesk to Moscow to Saint Petersburg. This is pretty much driving across the present Russia.

I have taken far longer trips – to, around and from Alaska – and we did this once before the Alcan highway was finished, but the present trip is a journey of a very different type.

It is difficult to describe the rigors of driving on Russian roads to those who have not had the experience. Imagine a two-lane blacktop road with many, many old and laboring trucks belching black diesel smoke and many cars. The trucks drive at speeds under 30 when going up hills and the cars want to drive 75-80. Vehicles pass each other constantly sometimes overtaking four or five trucks while staring down oncoming traffic. Once and a while when this was not possible we took to the shoulder and passed on the right. There are actually police and radar triggered cameras that take your picture if you are speeding, but every car I have ridden in so far has a radar detector. I do not drive, I could not drive under these conditions. We witnessed only one serious accident so far – a truck must have caught a tire off the side of the road and flipped.

You can pull off at many locations along the way to make purchases as local farmers bring produce to lure drivers from the highway.

My cultural education continues. Having a drink or two is common to socialization in many cultures, but today’s experience went a little further.

We were visiting the home of Andrew and Natasha. Andrew showed us two gallon jugs with dates of 2004 and 2008. These were gifts he had received from a skilled friend. He opened both for us.

Before drinking Andrew had to test the alcohol content (with a lighter). Both burned. From the color it was difficult to determine just what these liquors were. Attempting to understand Russian did not help. After the use of a translation dictionary and a thorough discussion of a wide variety of liquors, we finally decided one was brandy and one was scotch. I will go with both guesses. I am pretty certain about the brandy.

Andrew wanted to send a jug home with us. I am guessing this is not allowed, but I will have to convince him such gifts are not covered by duty free.

I did sample, but the amount offered was a little beyond my afternoon limit. Very good!

Just to be clear, the Russians take the role of designated driver very seriously. The driver never, never drinks.

Cheers!

Cindy bought me some new clothes for our trip to Russia. There are several new lightweight shirts and nice walking shorts. I also bought a couple of new pairs of shoes. She made me try on the shirts to make certain they fit. Evidently an XL is not always an XL. I have learned there are long XLs and there are short XLs. I need the long XLs. This size is sometimes called “athletic fit” – I think this is just to make guys like me feel better. I even used the shoes for a few days so that I would be able to walk in them without blisters.

I did not try on and model the underwear. For some reason, Cindy thought I wore a size “medium”. I have not worn mediums since middle school. Now, I will have to purchase some Russian underwear. This could be interesting.

Let this be a lesson for all novice bloggers. You can always find something to write about.

Maybe things like this just happen to me. Sometimes I wonder.

We are heading for Russia in a couple of days. This will be the third trip for Cindy. She has worked with teachers in Russia before, but there was not an opportunity for me to go along. Cindy is far more of an adventurer than I and more social, but you do not have these opportunities often and pushing yourself a little is important. I am going this time.

Some travel requires a visa – your passport is not enough.  As much as Cindy has travelled you might think we would know what we are doing. However, the details were often handled by someone else and the process is a little more complicated than you might think.

First, it turns out there are several kinds of visas – business, humanitarian, tourist (my terms). We thought our trip might be a business trip. The application then requires that you identify your company and have a way to guarantee that your company will cover costs should you not have sufficient funds to get home. Our employer, the university, is not responsible for this trip. We have never bothered to incorporate as a business and representing ourselves as a company and then claiming we would cover our expenses should we not be able to cover our expenses seemed unlikely to be approved.

It turned out the type of work we do is considered humanitarian/cultural. This means something a little different to me, but I guess it implies that we are sharing ideas about educational practice with each other. To apply we had to identify the organization offering us an invitation. We had the invitation, but it was written in Russian. We assumed we were invited by the school district (or whatever the equivalent designation might be). I have a colleague in my department who is Russian and I asked him to translate. Dmitri determined that the invitation came from the city of Volgograd. I guess this makes sense if you understand this as a public school.

The problem with our uncertainty is that time passes. The less time available, the higher the cost of expedited services. We kept making mistakes resulting in the need to submit this or that by FedEx. Finally, we had all the forms filled out and all of the documents were submitted.

We were to receive our documents on Tuesday, but we received a message instead. It turns out my passport was never signed. I had to secure a new passport this year and I had my new passport in hand. I had even used it to cross the border into Canada. However, while I signed forms in multiple places and had my identify checked, I had not signed the passport when it was sent to me. No one had noticed. Despite appeals from multiple parties no approval was given and I would have to sign and resubmit my passport before rather than after.

If things work out perfectly, the visa should arrive on the morning of our projected departure. If FedEx cannot find me in the woods of Wisconsin, we will have to attempt to change our plane tickets, our one night hotel reservation in St. Petersburg, and our connecting flight to Volgograd. Far more excitement than I need.

More later.

I think we all want to feel special and I believe if we search long enough we will find just what this special talent is. It may be difficult because we do not always recognize our true gifts. Sometimes these gifts are more obvious to others than they are to us. Sometimes these gifts are difficult to identify without special monitoring tools.

I purchased a FitBit One because I love any kind of data (and I hoped it would help me lose weight). You know that 10000 step thing. It is more difficult to take 10000 steps than you might think. It turns out that being active is not my special gift.

The FitBit also monitors the effectiveness of your sleep. Evidently, being able to sleep soundly is an important component of being healthy. Sleep is very important in helping your body recuperate from the strains and damage of the day. There is also something about your brain doing helpful things when you are in deep REM sleep.

It turns out that I am a spectacular sleeper. I sleep very deeply – my body and brain must be deriving tremendous benefit. This must be it. This must be my special gift. Who would have guessed? Without this wonderful device I would not have known what special talent I possessed.

You should not be punished for trying to be helpful. We have made contributions to several democratic political candidates because we supported their promised course of action, but now I am continuously asked for more money. I am not only annoyed by the frequency of these requests, but also the tone. After bringing up an issue and a position I likely support, there is a request for more money. Sometimes the request appears within a competitive framework – the republicans supported by “some rich guy” have already raised $xxxx. I guess the idea is that I am supposed to help the dems catch up.

I still don’t get the use for the requested money. My assumption was that my representatives would vote in keeping with their promises. Why do I get the feeling I must pay additional money for this service?

So, anyway, this is starting to feel like spam. Despite all of the advice from the best tech experts on how to deal with spam, I have decided to request that I be unsubscribed. The reason given for not responding at all is that this offers the spammer assurance that there is someone out there receiving the emails.

Anyway, I did decide to unsubscribe and I thought the experience deserved public disclosure.

Selecting the link to unsubscribe sent me to the following page

Evidently, the site creators have not seriously tested the unsubscribe option. OR, now I must donate to have my name taken off the list.

The responsibility for Mothers’ Day greetings and presents is one of the three or so things my wife and I argue about. My position, of course, is that my wife is not MY mother. She argues, in truth but that is not the issue here, that she is the mother of my children. Perhaps this is one of those controversies you can identify with and perhaps even have experienced yourself.

One of the problems with our different perspectives is that the resolution (I am always wrong) requires late action and fast thinking.

We happened to spend a good part of last night at a wedding social in Winnipeg. The honorees included the individual who will be my last graduate student. Anyway, this is an event that seems unique to Manitoba and involves a great party part of which includes the opportunity to purchase chances on prizes. The proceeds from the drawings will go to the bride and groom. So, as things often work out for me, I won a “sports gear” prize.

We are riding back to Grand Forks today and I began thinking about the general topic of Mothers’ Day. I realized that I had no present and I would likely soon be getting the silent treatment. I concentrated and thought of a solution.

One of the prizes from the sports basket seems absolutely perfect. I am promoting this as a “I just want you to be safe when we ride our Ranger on the trails” gift. What do you think? She looks pleased – I think.

Best wishes to all you mothers. Remember every curmudgeon must have had a mother.

I have decided that being a judge charged with evaluating which of 13 applicants competing for a coffee kiosk spot in the University library was probably not good for my blood pressure. It was not the weighty task of selecting a winner that was the problem. It was sampling so many different brews that had my heart working at a higher pace. I could feel the flush in my face. I know the approved “cupping” technique – slurp and spit, but this was the final project for an industrial design course and the multiple exhibits did not include spittoons. The student “competitors” were offering full cups. After a couple of these, I used my own cup and asked for a small sample.

This is what educators would call authentic assessment. You see if students can put the principles you hope they have learned into practice. If you learning design and evaluation processes the type of activity described here would be a reasonable capstone experience. I teach Intro Psych. I am not certain what a capstone experience for such a survey course might be. There might be smaller applied tasks, but the course does not build toward any cumulative goal that I can see evaluating with a single project.

I am somewhat of a coffee snob and I had fun challenging the students. I asked how they had selected the coffee the offered. Clearly, cost was often a factor and I suggested that I would likely not purchase Folgers or one of the inexpensive options from a big box stores. When I pushed a little more, it was obvious that many students did not actually drink coffee on a regular basis, but might use it to stay awake. Another tendency was to prefer heavily doctored drinks with flavors. One of the exhibits featured chocolate syrup because the pitchmen thought this would be popular with students (perhaps it would, I hope not). I also argued with the use of the large capacity drip coffee makers. I said that continuing to heat the coffee created a bitter taste over time. I did have an interesting discussion with this group regarding whether this was similar to the way Turkish coffee was made. I get the boiling part (my grandparents use to make coffee by boiling grounds in water with egg shells), but this approach (they were German, but I call this cowboy coffee) has a downside if you just let the stuff sit there on heat.

One of my big questions was whether the students thought their stand was a “grab and go” or was intended to be part of a social experience. What did students in the library want? Did they think about seating? Did they think students and adults (faculty members, staff) would prefer different kinds of coffee?

Some of these young entrepreneurs relied heavily on marketing to influence the judges. At least I received a free cup.