Village of Peace/World

We all survived and enjoyed Finn’s first week back to school. He insisted he wanted to go every morning. I was a bit hesitant to commit him to that level of Russian immersion intensity, but it seems like the consistent daily schedule might actually be easier for all of us? Time will tell. Lev seemed a bit lost without Finn telling him what to do, but we got through it and enjoyed our quieter mornings together. Matt and I even decided to have a morning coffee date downtown; Lev was pleased to tag along. Paul’s parents were in town for their visa renewal trip from Kazakhstan; it was nice to have bonus grandparents here to tell stories to the boys. Finn was thoroughly intrigued by their wrinkly skin and gray hair. He hasn’t figured out yet how people get old – you can imagine he produced unending questions on the topic.

Last week Finn earned five coins by successfully taking a nap all by himself. When he woke up he was really excited to go to the little store with his coins and buy an ice cream cone. He was holding the coins in his hand and flipping all over the bed while I tried to wrestle pants on him, when suddenly he started freaking out, holding his throat and gagging and yelling “get it out, GET IT OUT!” Somehow one of the coins had slipped into his mouth and down his throat. UGH! A fair amount of panic ensued, but he was breathing fine and clearly not choking, just really scared he would soon die. And so, I googled it: “What to do when a child swallows a coin,” as any modern parent would. By the time I finished reading the complete list of hazards, symptoms and instructions for when one absolutely needs to proceed to the hospital, everyone was calm so we bought the ice cream cone and enjoyed the rest of the evening in the beautiful crunchy-leaf weather. Every so often Finn would ask “Mama? Do I still have my coin problem?” Well, five poops and 28 hours

later, the coin was recovered; problem resolved. Matt is hoping someday when we return home Finn will proudly tell people “I made it through Russia, and a part of Russia made it through me!”

We’ve had the strangest friendship developing over the last few weeks with a nice young family. They have two girls ages 1 and 3. We have SO much in common its almost scary. She had both of her babies at home (despite it being illegal here), cloth diapers, baby wears, co-sleeps, and nurses until they are two years old! She also chooses not to feed her children sugar (which goes very much against Russian culture) and she and her husband don’t drink alcohol at all. Yesterday they invited us out to a new housing development 20 kilometers out of town where they are in the process of buying a townhouse. The village is extremely un-Russian-like, in fact, we were jokingly calling it Little America. There were real, normal-size and quality houses and townhouses with cars in driveways and no fences. The village promotes clean living and being neighborly and has strict rules prohibiting the sale of alcohol or cigarettes. The mastermind behind the project has some really big dreams and owns 300 hectares of land in hopes of making his dreams a reality. Right now, there are about two dozen homes in the village with only 35 people living in it. A large, strange “art park” is in various stages of construction, with walking paths winding through birch groves, past little lakes and ponds, and will include seven different little buildings for the various natural elements (wind, water, fire, earth, etc.). The House of Earth

was nearly complete, and we also went inside the House of Sound, a perfect dome where sound waves are thought to be healing when one stands in the center. There is also an amphitheater and a labyrinth for meditative walks. Weird. But the weather was gorgeous, and we thoroughly enjoyed the fresh air and peaceful sounds of nature.

What was not peaceful, however, was our journey to the village. There is no public transportation service to that area yet, so we simply planned to take a taxi. In the interest of trying to save us a few dollars, our friends insisted we take the metro to the opposite side of the city and hail a cab from there. I tried to protest by saying we would have to carry our car seat on the metro with us, but they offered to swing by our place and pick up the car seat and then meet us on the other side of the city to deliver the car seat. Well, ok. That was very nice of them. Russians are rarely prompt, so we ended up

waiting 45 minutes for our car seat to arrive and then we started trying to hail a cab. Dima had all the different taxi apps and started pouring over the available options, again in the interest of saving us a few cents. I am now a firm believer in not paying the lowest available fare for a taxi. The driver showed up and didn’t have the car seat we were promised, but Dima said not to worry, they had an extra in their car. He comes back with some pieces from the stroller for their baby, plops it on the seat, stuffs Lev’s legs in, pulls the car seat belt over his face, gives me a thumbs up and off we go! I continue to be appalled at the lack of car seat safety and education in this country! It is the law here that children need to be in car seats, but it seems to be very loosely defined, poorly enforced and the safety benefits are absolutely not taught to new parents. Our discount taxi driver proceeded to go nearly double the speed limit (about 90 mph) the entire way, weaving in and out of oncoming traffic, taking the shoulder as necessary, to get us there lickety split. Goodness sakes, these experiences cannot be good for my health even

when we do live to tell about them. Matt and I quickly agreed we would order our own taxi from the company we have had relatively comfortable experiences with for the return trip, and it would be all the way to our home because it was very likely both boys would fall asleep on the way. It wasn’t until it came time to leave that we learned taxis won’t come out that far to pick someone up. Not to worry, Dima said he would give us a ride to the metro and then come back for his family. His almost three-year old’s car seat had been placed (not properly installed!) in the front seat, facing the airbags and the harness was not able to be tightened! I just cringe at how horrible that would be in the event of a crash! Anyway, we moved it to the backseat and attempted to secure Lev in it with the help of the seatbelt. The sight would seriously horrify every parent in America; I really, really hate riding in cars here. It never seems worth it. Both boys promptly fell asleep, as predicted, so we lugged them through the metro system and all the way home, just in time for them to wake up, full of energy and ready to play. Oof. A few hours later Dima stopped by to drop off our car seat; his daughter was sleeping in her unsecured car seat in the front seat, and his baby was sleeping in her car seat that was stacked on top of ours (both completely unsecured), in the back seat.