Clifton Park

I made it to Clifton Park without much ado--after 2.5 hours of delays I only arrived 30 minutes late. That tells me the flight to Almaty doesn't have to be 14 hour from Frankfurt, if we can magically make that kind of time up on a whim. Then again, I know nothing of flying.

This is post 101. Kind of anti-climactic, I know. Aslo, I am searching for direction for this blog, since I'm no longer overseas... This may be the end.

Getting started

Looking to learn more about Central Asia? Check out this only slightly embarrasing conversation--a great reading list for anyone who's been or wants to go.

Mission Accomplished

We've got an apartment! It's on the south slope of Queen Anne, about three blocks up from the cafe Ladro, if you know what I mean. It's small, with an 'angle' view... but it'll do nicely. Now to move in and get it as ready for Alana as possible before I fly to NY on the 5th. Wee!

Back in the Saddle

Yellowstone was great--proof that my dad and I are friends, which is cool. Some things I learned o this trip: I'm a pretty ok fisherman, mosquitoes love the taste of my blood and Nate English is engaged. Also, people are idiots on vacation. Ask any hotel manager, any state or national park staff or pretty much any shopowner in Leavenworth and they'll tell you what I just said--people on vacation are idiots.

Having grown up in a tourist town has changed how I do the tourist thing. At times I'm overly sensitive to doing typical 'tourist' stuff and never take any risks... and living in Central Asia for two years changed me too... so now I fight the paradox within: the urge to blend in and dissapear and the urge to wear the stars and stripes and shout in English on the streets of Namangan.

I didn't get the apartment in Magnolia, on a completely different topic. I'm borowing Brady's car (again!) and going to look at a few more today and tomorow. I called 10 numbers yesterday and got 2 actual people. One of the eight messages I left has returned my call. Bastards.

Actualy, it's not all bad... when my phone rings I have no idea who it is or why they're calling and that's stressfull. So if they're not calling back, I can just call them names on the internet and feel justified.

Also, I can't set up my voicemail. The instructions in the book are useless, with the same useless information on the website.

The Mariners came fro behind to win! We're over .500! My goal for the season has been achieved and it's not even July!

I have today and tomorow to find an apartment. Pray for me.

Yellowstone

I'm going to Yellowstone tomorow. Well, starting the journey, anyway. It's a little more than a day's drive from here. This is great because I get time in the woods fishing with my dad. This is bad because I haven't heard back about the aprtment I applied for on Thursday around noon OR have I heard anything from Horace about my ESI acount. I emailed him over two weeks ago (and again three or four days ago) about getting my money back but something's not right. Probably something to do with their server being down but... still... stressfull.

Church in English is still weirding me out. Going to services in Russian and Old Slavonic every Sunday made me give up some of my fundamental assumptions about going to church. I had to give up being fed, for example. I never got ANYTHING from a sermon, nor was I able to sing the songs very well. I also had to give up participating. I can't very well teach Sunday school if it A) doesn't exist and B) is in Russian. I even had to learn the flow of the Orthodox liturgy, how to cross and how to bow. I never did take communion, mostly because it would require a confession of sins to the preist, who, you guessed it, speaks Russian. I suppose I could have muscled my way through it with a simplified list and a dictionary, but that's a whole new level of intimidation I wasn't ready to face this past year. I also had to give up belonging, knowing I would never, truly, belong to this body. I would always be a foreigner to some degree.

So what was left if my primary reasons for going to church were gone?

Quite a suprising lot, actually. I had plenty of time to monitor my thoughts, ask questions and wonder. Am I reverent? Is my heart singing? Where is my mind? (Pixies ref) Why am I here? Why am I judging them? Isn't this beautiful?

It was a lesson in being with God instead of getting from or doing for God. He doesn't need me, but he loves me. How does that work? Can I let myself be loved like that, like a father loves his child (ideally) apart from what I have to offer? Giving up the need to be needed... hmm...