When Dream Jobs Don't Pan Out

If you would have asked me what my ultimate "dream job" would be anytime between my fourteenth and twenty-first birthdays, I wouldn't have hesitated to proudly declare that some day I hoped to work for the U.S. Department of State as a Foreign Service Officer. I envisioned grand adventures of living in foreign lands, constantly learning new languages, and working with locals as a representative of the alruistic American people, for the betterment of their country and the betterment of the world at large. What I never imagined is that, at the age of twenty-one I would be flying to Russia to start an internship which fully embodied the responsibilities, prestige and adventures I had sought as a young adult and believed awaited me at the State Department.

Inter-Ideological Relationships: What's to gain?

This week my very talented friend, political life expert, prolific journalist, and well-known libertarian blogger George Scoville wrote about his recent engagement to a member of the Democratic party - and why it works.

I read the article to my family over breakfast and it got great reviews, plus spurred an interesting discussion. The essence of George's message is this:

"My instincts tell me that it's not people's specific politics that make them compatible or incompatible, but how they prioritize their politics within the order of the rest of their lives."

Learning by Leaving

I have immensely enjoyed the opportunities I've had this week to sit down with classmates, old friends and professors who all want to hear about my travels in Eastern Europe. Their questions - whose answers are often "so obvious" to me - have been incredibly insightful and helpful in reminding me how much I actually learned while I was gone. Their reactions to my responses have ranged from utter surprise to indifference, from "I told you so," to "I'm so glad you're still alive!"

I am among only a handful of seniors who still have a meal plan at Belmont's cafeteria, so when I'm not hurriedly trying to finish reading for my next class while munching my veggies, I'm often joined by one of the four other seniors whom I might run into there. These past few days I've eaten a few times with Steven, an accounting major with whom I used to work as a Resident Assistant in one of our dorms.  There couldn't be two more different students at Belmont, but we always seem to get into serious life-planning discussions.  Steven has lived in middle Tennessee his entire life, and would be happy to stay here indefinitely. Tonight I heard the most adventurous statement he's ever made in my presence:  "I might consider moving across the country if I had to."  I first thought I had heard "to another country" and almost fell out of my chair and flung a carrot across the room, but he quickly confirmed that it was across "the country" -- the one and only country worth living in, in his book -- the United States of America.
There's a simple sweetness about Steven's contentedness here; his happy-go-lucky and laid-back personality make him unassuming and easy to be around.  His genuine interest in other people's life and experiences and willingness to listen give us license to be genuine and unworried about being too quickly judged.

My neighborhood church.

Looking at the Admiralty from across the Neva.

Tonight Steven asked, "What was life like in general over there?"
I told him about registering with the city government and the need to re-register with the municipal authorities of a another city, should you visit for more than three days. I talked about the über-high cost of living in the big cities; $10 cups of coffee in St. Petersburg; a subway line that is so far underground, it takes five minutes on an escalator to get down there. I told him about the warm, genuine, intelligent people I met and their curiosity about the West.  I even told him about my good friend Yuriy, the photographer with whom I effectively covered most of downtown St. Pete on foot.
Steven stopped me halfway through my first sentences, exclaiming, "...And you want to move back there!?"

I had to think about it for a minute.  "Well, yeah, for a time," I said. "There are a lot of things about life in Russia that I miss."
"You know," I told him, "there are things about every place that I've lived that I miss.  It's like being a little bit homesick for six countries at once.  But I like it that way.  I don't take any day for granted, and I know that I make the most of every day because wherever I am, I live in constant awareness that I won't be in this place for very long."
We were both silent for a minute; the din of students eating and laughing in the background faded out as we both lost ourselves in contemplation.
Finally Steven said, "Wow, that's an interesting way to look at it.  It's like not taking anything for granted because you know you could die any day -- except you're not dying, just leaving.  For all of us that just live here, we get into a routine and sometimes it becomes about just getting through the day."
I completely understand what Steven is saying, and I see the truth in his observation. But to me, what he is describing is a tragic existence.

A canal near the Hermitage.

"I just couldn't live like that..." Steven went on, "...I couldn't live in a place where there are so many rules and regulations - especially with the government and everything." Another friend I saw this week prefers the safety of America to the many, many (both perceived and real) threats and inconveniences of daily life that expatriates and inhabitants of other countries face. I can't say that I blame her, but I approach life from a completely different angle.  It's a challenge and a game for me -- to see how fast I can adapt to life in another place; how quickly I can fit in seamlessly and be taken for a local; how uncomfortably I can live and still be happy; how many oddities and quirks I can find and embrace in a new culture; how low-maintenance I can become.

Downtown St. Pete.  A big pole falls and no one shows up to put it
back in place.  No orange cones. Nothing.
I actually got stared at while taking this photo,
as if this is an everyday occurrence.

Sometimes it takes a conversation like the ones I had with these friends to realize the logic that underlies our daily actions and attitudes. Sure, I'm aware that every morning I open my eyes, remember where I am, and pick out all the things I want to do that day that I know I can't do anywhere else. I just hadn't taken into consideration the fact that everybody else isn't doing exactly the same thing.

Speaking of taking photos for people...I snapped this shot for my brother
Jared.  It's "his" car - same make, model & color as the one my aunt
gave him as his first car!  And I saw it in Russia!!

For me, leaving and exploring new places and meeting new people is as much about cherishing my old home and friends and past experiences as it is about exuberantly embracing the new.  I remember walking to work every morning in St. Petersburg - 45 minutes in many degrees below zero - and smiling as I thought about all of you. Some of the pictures I took were for me, because I came upon a nice view or some unusual scene that made me laugh; but honestly, most of them were for you. 90% of the time I pulled out my camera because something triggered a memory of one of you and I thought, Oh my, so-and-so would LOVE to see this! 
Now I walk to school every morning - 10 short minutes under the warm Tennessee sun - and think about the community I left in Russia....my wonderful co-workers at the Consulate, my passionate film- and music-loving young friends, the man with no legs who wore black fingerless gloves and scooted around between traffic on a little square board with four wheels, asking for spare change.
Just as traveling introduces you to parts of yourself that you might not have ever otherwise encountered, it also prompts the discovery of your home in a new light and from a new perspective, namely, the perspective of an outsider.

The giant poster reads: "Russia. Land of Opportunity."
Wait...wasn't that America's trademark??

Culture Shock - Southern Style

On my many walks through campus today, on this first day of fall classes at Belmont, I realized (for the fourth or fifth time in my life) how much more intensely I feel the culture shock when re-entering my own culture than when  initially leaving it for another.  As I strolled up the newly repaved paths from my apartment in Belmont Commons to the Massey Business Center at the top of the hill, I was puzzled by the happy faces making eye contact with me as I passed and even - gasp! - smiling!?  I kept thinking, "What's going on? What do these people want from me?"  

I learned very quickly in Russia - and was reminded during that first month in Western Europe - that making eye contact isn't the proper way to conduct oneself while walking on a city street.  And smiling is simply out of the question; socially acceptable only as a kid or teenage girl, and even then - only when greeting very close friends or family. To smile at a stranger is downright provocative.

(No wonder I had a perpetual trail of Russian guys behind me those first few weeks in St. Petersburg...)

There are other things I'm still getting used to, too.  Like driving.  Everywhere.  It was nice to rediscover my personal vehicle upon my arrival in Nashville, and even nicer that I could profit from its use while moving into a new apartment. But I'm still in the habit of forecasting the day's mileage every morning when getting dressed and selecting footwear from my closet, and frankly I'd rather be out in the fresh air, using the legs God gave me - than scrunched up lethargically in a car. 

Yesterday I ran across this long-abandoned journal entry on my desktop, dated February 17th, the anniversary of my second week in St. Petersburg.  It seems that adjusting to life in Russia, though much different, wasn't that hard after all. 

February 17, 2011 

It’s amazing how quickly you can adapt to a new place and a new way of life – even a new mindset. I’ve noticed this week that I’m really getting the hang of things around here.
I don’t cringe anymore when I turn on the faucet and a stream of rust-colored water pours out. I expertly navigate sidewalks and street crossings and can spot black ice several meters away. I can pile on seven extra layers and be ready to go out in about 30 seconds flat. And I’ve learned that when I find a product from the States that I like, or think I might need in the next few weeks, I need to buy it on the spot – there’s usually only one or two on the shelf and when those are gone there’s no telling when, if ever, they might reappear.   

A prime example of the black ice of which I speak...
This photo was taken at about -18 Celcius. See the water frozen in the pipe?

Oh look! Lucky Charms!! What a find!

And they can be yours for the low price of only 
FIFTEEN US DOLLARS :)
Thank you, Russia. My grocery bill
(for one rather small person) in St. Pete was
often $80 per week - and that's just cooking at home!

"Kracks" - one example of the many foreign knock-offs
available in Russia. Usually found on the shelf alongside
their more expensive American equivalents, these knock-off
brands in their almost perfectly identical packaging can fool
some consumers. But don't be mistaken - companies like
 "Kracks" cut corners wherever possible and quality is
sacrificed in favor of bringing something to market that is
actually affordable for the middle class. 

On the positive side of culture shock, I stopped by the offices of many of my current and former professors today, and was completely overjoyed and delighted to remember how supportive and caring are the faculty at Belmont. Some have stopped me in the hall, welcomed me back, and said they loved traveling with me via my blog; others welcomed me and encouraged me to continue writing and traveling and studying. I couldn't imagine a nicer homecoming. In contrast, most of the professors that I met in Russia (and the two that now follow my blog are certainly the exception) - when I explained my research project and asked for their assistance - weren't quite so enthusiastic about helping in any way.  Only one of them really thought my project was "cool."  When I did manage to elicit any sort of support (i.e. the promise of assistance in recruiting students to complete my research survey), it was quickly squelched when the professor realized they would have to put out any effort to participate in my research...namely, reserving a half hour time slot for their students to take my online survey in the computer lab.  Honestly, it's hard to hold it against them. Things just work differently in Russia, and for all I know it could be a bureaucratic nightmare to reserve any room in any academic building.  The piles of paperwork I had to do (including a tuberculosis test, HIV test, and x-ray of my lungs) just to live in a public dorm in St. Petersburg is enough to deter me from ever pursuing such a living arrangement again.  And if you could have seen the place!  View some of the photos of my room in this blog post.

I do miss my friends in Russia, and even many aspects of life there.  But I'm certainly glad to be back at my home in Belmont, and - once I get used to it again - I'm certain the South will suit me just fine for the next few months.

My Dutch roommates, Debbie & Marlou, and myself, enjoying zakuzki (midnight snack) hosted by the friendly
Russian and Turkish guys in the adjacent room.
Sergei and Pasha (in the green jacket and white tee, respectively) were such interesting people - very curious
about our countries and lifestyles - and patient with our Russian! Even though they spoke no English whatsoever,
and at that time my Russian was pretty poor, we still communicated a lot of different ideas and became great friends.

The Fontanka Most Project

While living in St. Petersburg, I crossed the most (bridge) over the Fontanka canal every morning on my way to work.  Sometime in the first few weeks I started to notice that the view from the most could change drastically from day to day, and I got into the habit of stopping to shoot a photo every few days.  It gave me a moment to pause, relax, be thankful for another day, and then continue my forty-minute commute with a new vigor.  While tidying up and cataloging my photos this weekend, I ran across this collection and it made me smile as I thought back on my time in St. Pete and the little things that made each day special.

Feb.15

Cooking Class With Sergei

My studies in Russia and Ukraine have been organized through SRAS - the School of Russian and Asian Studies.  I've been overall satisfied with the assistance provided by the organization.  I heavily corresponded with Renee, the director, for two years as I tried to set this up.  It seemed like no matter what time I emailed her, I always got a response back within 1-2 hours.  SRAS helped me obtain the priglashenye (invitation) to study in Russia that was needed for my visa; they set up my housing, enrolled me in the school, met me at the airport, and provided lots of information about the places I would go.  They also provided the comfort of knowing that I could call a local resident an any time if I needed help.  But other than that they have been pretty hands off, and that's the way I like exchange programs in general.

One thing that I've really enjoyed, however, is participating in some of the optional tours that SRAS offers.  Do you remember Sergei's guided walking tour of downtown St. Pete?  It was absolutely a wonderful time. The same multi-talented Sergei (a professor and culture enthusiast) took us to a play by Gogol at the Aleksandrinskiy Theatre, on a tour of The Russian Museum, and invited us over to make and eat syrniki -- the highlight of today's blog post.

St. Petersburg Center: A Guided Tour

Last week one of the coordinators from the School of Russian and Asian Studies, named Sergei, led Sarah, Hillary, and I on a walking tour of central St. Petersburg.  It was a warm, clear day and perfect for walking.  It turns out Sergei is a professor at one of the universities in St. Petersburg, and he is a wealth of great information.  Beyond simply knowing an immense amount of information about Russian culture and history, he is able to detach himself from his Russian identity and talk about issues objectively and in a global context.  

"Dom Knigi" ("House of Books"), otherwise known as The Singer House.
It was the first building built in St. Pete by an American company,
(Singer Sewing Company), and at one time it even housed the
U.S. Consulate in St. Petersburg!

A Sunny Day in St. Pete

A while back, I started using a site called DailyMile as an exercise log. It has a neat feature that allows you to map your routes, and even save commonly-used routes such as a daily commute.  I realized that my daily commute to school and back totals about 3.5 miles of walking (and about 40 minutes on the metro each way). When I plugged this in, and then added my other walking excursions, I was surprised to find out that I walked 29 miles last week!

I know it sounds unbelievable, but I happen to have 29 miles worth of photos to prove it.  And we've had lots of sunny days lately, a climate which always inspires me to pull out my camera.  In a city like St. Petersburg, I just can't resist the temptation to snap a photo of almost every building I pass.

Return to St. Petersburg

I feel like I could burst into tears at any moment. Arriving in St. Petersburg for the second time has been one of the worst experiences of my life.  

The three-hour train ride from Helsinki to St. Pete was okay, but it was all downhill from there. A driver from the university was supposed to pick me up at a friends house where I was keeping my luggage. He finally arrived, but said not a word during the entire 30-minute drive across town.  My efforts to make conversation were met with silence.  

We parked in front of a few high rises and dragged my suitcases over a mud path covered with wooden planks. Walking up to the kiosk adjacent to a ten-foot high barred fence with giant turnstile gate, my driver, who apparently works for the university, silently left me and approached the counter.  He presented some papers and eventually I was let in.  Inside the fenced area are a number of buildings surrounding a grassy quad. I was led into one of them and right inside the door the driver put down my suitcase, handed some papers to the lady at the desk, and shoved a xeroxed copy of a map in my direction as he turned and headed for the door.  I started after him and began to say, "Wait, I don't know where I'm going or even where I am. You have to show me where I live."  He kept walking away from me but flung his left arm out, pointing to the desk -- obviously suggesting that I should direct my inquiries to the women there.  And without a word he was gone.  

A Fairytale Come True

You can't imagine all the fun I've had at work this week – I really do have the best job in the world! The U.S. Consulate in St. Petersburg is a major sponsor of the International Dance Open Ballet Festival, and this year was the 10th anniversary of the festival. Our Consul General gave two speeches – at the opening press conference and the awards ceremony – and I went along as a Consulate representative in support of her. Of course, we had fantastic seats for all the performances! There were several American dancers who had come to compete in the festival, and one group, called “The Bad Boys of Dance” came as crowd energizers. The first night we were in the Alexandrinsky Theater, a very famous one built in the 1800s. Everything seems to be covered in either gold or red velvet; I felt like a queen! We were sitting front and center, with the jury who was judging the festival! I got to sit next to the Artistic Director of the American Ballet Theater in New York; that alone was amazing! The best part about sitting with the jury is watching and listening to their responses to the dancers. One poor ballerina slipped on something that was on the floor right as she was landing a jump, and ended up flat on her back. She was okay, fortunately, and kept dancing. But it was interesting because the jury gasped before anyone else knew anything was wrong. They know ballet so well that even the slightest deviation from proper form immediately allows them to project what's going to happen next.  The next night we had equally great seats for the gala concert, this time at the Oktyabrysky, a brand new theater that seats 4,000 people.  The entire place was packed! I really appreciated being able to drive up in the official car, complete with the diplomatic American flags. Everyone got out of the way and we just got to zoom on in – no waiting in lines! But the real highlight of the night was the awards ceremony afterward. Only about 100-150 people were invited: the dancers, trainers, judges, and sponsors of the festival. The ceremony was held in The Marble Palace and it was truly incredible, right out of a fairytale!  The Marble Palace

Subway Bombing in Minsk, Belarus

In case you haven't heard: the capital of Belarus was rocked early Monday morning by a bomb exploding in the subway station where their two underground lines intersect.  12 are reported dead; more than 130 injured.
In a conversation with a smart, globally aware, middle-aged Russian colleague this morning, I was told that this bombing is a complete shock for citizens in the region: "Belarus is known as a very stable place: the people are not very well-off, but the country is very orderly and very clean.  The police are not corrupted; they are known for not being corrupt."
"I just don't see any motivation for this attack," she continued.  "Belarus is not involved in any conflicts like in Chechnya or anything, and they are not close allies of the United States or other big powers."

I was a little bit skeptical about her perspective and the reality of the "stability" in the region; from the way she was describing Belarus, it sounded like a great place to live.  I'd never heard such a great review of the country.  So I did a little research....

A Story from Central Asia

I met Artyom in the metro last Friday night. I was on my way back from the State Electrotechnological University, where I had been speaking all day to students about Linguistics and Intercultural Communications, and I was plain exhausted. I'd given six different speeches in the past five days and was really feeling the duress of public speaking. For the first time ever, I sank onto a bench on the metro platform.
“Spasibo,” I half-whispered as an attractive young blond man scooted over to make sure I had more than enough room to relax.
“Excuse me,” the young man leaned over 30 seconds later and started to talk to me in rapid Russian, “What do you think: are people more friendly and cultured in St. Petersburg than in Moscow?”

The VIP Lifestyle

I could get used to this.

Walking into my favorite 24-hour hangout, "Kofe Hauz," a few minutes ago, I passed a billboard advertising the two biggest events in St. Petersburg this weekend.  Thanks to my amazing internship and a great new friend I made at a concert a few weeks ago, I have VIP passes to both events at no cost to me. I'm really having the ultimate St. Petersburg experience.

Secretary of Defense Gates Visits St. Petersburg

Secretary of Defense Robert Gates fires the noon cannon at
Peter and Paul Fortress

Secretary of Defense Robert Gates' visit to St. Petersburg last week caused a lot of commotion around here.  Here he is, firing the noon cannon at the Peter and Paul Fortress.  The cannon is fired every day at noon, usually by a special "Director of the Cannon."  Only VIP guests get the privilege of stepping in for a shot.  I wish I could be a little more descriptive of the whole event, but for now all I can offer is this nice photo and a general overview.  One of the highlights was the visit to the Peter and Paul Cathedral (the spire you see behind Dr. Gates).  This is where the Russian tsars are buried; from Peter the Great to Nicholas II -- and their families.  We also had an Orthodox choir (quartet) serenade us in a room with special acoustics. The way the sound resonated from everywhere and filled the room was incredible.



Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld's Coin



A really neat souvenir was given to those of us who worked on the visit.  Each Secretary of Defense (as well as many other high-level figures) has their own coins minted, which they may give away at their discretion.  Upon leaving St. Petersburg, Secretary Gates' advance team said that the Secretary was very impressed with the Consulate's work and how smoothly his visit had gone here, and everyone who worked on the visit was given a coin. Here's an example of Rumsfeld's coin; Gates' is very similar.

Overall it was a really neat experience!

Orphanage No. 9

I wake up every day with an incredible sense of anticipation for what the day holds. No two days have been alike since I've been here, and every day has brought at least one new experience that I never thought I'd have. Honestly, this is the most amazing internship in the world. I can't think of anywhere else in the world I'd rather be right now.

The band: Brian, John Forté, Patrick, and Ryan

Today I accompanied our Public Affairs Officer to St. Petersburg's Orphanage No. 9, where the Consulate hosted and provided translation for John Forté and his band.  John has an amazing story. Having grown up in a rough, what he calls "not very affluent" neighborhood, he knew his only chance to step out of that community was academics, and so after committing himself to his studies he received a full-ride scholarship to the prestigious Phillips Exeter Academy and then continued at New York University. He made some great connections early on, and his music career exploded. He told the kids at the orphanage today that "sometimes when you get what you think you want early on, at a young age, you don't know how to handle the pressure."  His music had taken him all over the world, but when his new album was "met with critical acclaim yet experienced commercial failure," he says he blamed everyone but himself.  He was then released from his contract with Atlantic Records, and decided to pursue a solo career as an independent singer-songwriter. Just one problem, though: by that time he had spent all the money he had earned.  He was approached by some people who said they could help him get the money he needed, and unfortunately he joined an illegal enterprise - something having to do with cocaine - and that one bad choice landed him with a 14-year prison sentence when he was caught.  The room full of 100+ chatty kids fell silent upon hearing these words from the humble, gifted musician before them. 

A Night at the St. Petersburg Grand Philharmonic

One of the really neat things about working at the Consulate in Public Affairs is the opportunity to get out and about around the city for all sorts of events.  Last night I was given a ticket to the Saint Petersburg Philharmonic, and it was amazing!  Not only was this a first-class, world renowned group of musicians, but to listen to them play on the very stage from which Tchaikovsky often conducted was an all-around spectacular experience. 

St. Petersburg Philharmonic Grand Hall

This is what the hall looks like today.  I was sitting in the center left section, eighth row back, and it was both a nice view as well as good acoustics. I borrowed this snippet about the history of the hall from the philharmonic website:


"This Hall, where today is the Philharmonic, was built in 1839 by the architect P. Jacot (the facade designed by C. Rossi) for the Noble Assembly of St. Petersburg.
The first-class acoustics hall, built to hold more than 1,500 people,  became a center of musical life in St. Petersburg since the late 1840's. There were well-known musicians of the nineteenth century: Liszt, H. Berlioz, Wagner, G. Mahler, A. Rubinstein, K. Schumann, Pauline Viardot, P. Sarasate and others. Here we first heard many of the writings of the classics of Russian music by Borodin, Mussorgsky, Tchaikovsky, Rimsky-Korsakov, Glazunov, and more."

Week 2 in St. Petersburg

How could temperatures drop again? Where do you go from -16 degrees?

A portrait of two frozen people, defrosting

The radio stations have been saying this is the coldest week of the year, and there's only more cold in the forecast. Hence my blogging silence.  There's not much you can do (besides just try to survive) in this climate.  My days go something like: Wake up, go to work, run home.  With a stop at the grocery store every so now and then. And I have practically no photos for you, because I'm not crazy enough to stand still and take off my gloves outside - for fear that I will become a permanent fixture wherever I happen to be standing; a new statue for the park, maybe.

I do have a few pictures from last weekend's excursions, when Alex came to visit, and his childhood friend came up from Moscow to spend the weekend with us in St. Pete.  We spent most of the weekend hopping between bars and cafés, just trying to stay warm. Nevertheless, this is what we looked like most of the time -- either freezing or defrosting.

St. Petersburg, first impressions

I woke up to a winter wonderland as the plane plunged into an almost-vertical descent toward St. Petersburg's Pulkovo Airport. I prayed, for the second time in ten hours, that by some miracle I would walk out of the plane. 

Almost whimsically, these colourful onion domes
adorn the Church on Spilled Blood.

Obviously, I did. And from the airport I was swept away into a day full of new experiences, new sights, new foods, and a new lifestyle. I came home and fell into bed last night, completely exhausted, but very thankful for this smooth transition and excited about everything that lays ahead for me here.

Change of Plans

Things have been happening so fast around here -- I've just realized I forgot to update you on my State Dept. internship...

By the end of my phone interview, back in August, it was clear that I was being recommended to the St. Petersburg Consulate, to work at the Political-Economic and Public Diplomacy desks. My education, skills, and interests lined up perfectly with the internship job description in the small St. Pete Consulate. I started researching like crazy and was really excited about spending time in the beautiful, historical city known as the cultural centre of Russia and dubbed by Russians and foreigners alike as Russia's "Window on the West." 

Onion Church

One of my earliest memories is of sitting in the playroom among stacks of old National Geographic magazines.  A friend of my mom's had had a subscription for over 20 years and had kept every issue.  When boxes full of them showed up in our extra room, it was like I had struck gold. 

I remember reading articles about shirtless, tribal African women, fact sheets about how Indian elephants differ from African elephants, and an exposé on the great number of people who are buried in the Great Wall of China because they died on the job and were left there to become part of the wall, among other things.  But do you know what has for years been my most vivid memory of these adventures in National Geographic?  It was a feature-length article on Russia, complete with several photographs and a map with a big red star on Moscow.  

The first photograph was in black and white.  It had a flap that, when flipped out, showed a landscape view of a group of children.  I had only to read the caption to discover that these sandy-haired, fair-skinned kids were orphans .  On the following page was a beautiful, full-color photo of a matryoshka, a Russian nesting doll.  It was painted to look like a babushka, a typical Russian grandmother in a flowery-print dress with a mismatching flowery-print scarf pulled over her hair and tied under her chin.  My favorite picture was a glimmering sunrise shot of a beautifully colored Orthodox church.  The one in the photograph was decked out in gold, greens, blues, red, and yellow.  The recognizable rooftop ornaments reminded me of onions, and so I dubbed all churches of that style "onion churches."  

I can't wait to visit my first onion church!