Kazan — summer 2014

I arrived at my hotel, Bright House, really a set of apartments rented out on a hotel basis. Talk about an aptly named hotel. The light pours in from the front and back windows, and the tile floors are spotlessly clean, reflecting light pleasantly. One is only tempted to turn on the lights at night. The only downside is that the bathroom is a ‘wet bathroom,’ that is, one where the shower drain is in the middle of the restroom, so after you finish your shower, you have to let the bathroom floor dry.

Fortunately they have provided a squeegee to speed up the process.

I have friends for whom a wet bathroom would be a deal-breaker — yes, I'm thinking of you, Mr Bailey — but for me its okay, especially considering how very comfortable this place is.

To my incredibly pleasant surprise, Google Voice is not blocked here, so I could send home text messages about my safe arrival. I haven't bought a SIM card for my phone here yet, so I called Cleo, my old Bulgarian teacher, via Skype. We arranged to meet at the main post office, and then we headed to a little cafe for some iced tea and caught up. I studied with her back in 91-93, I believe. Her English is still great. She told me about the experience of her and her family living in Japan back in 96. Fascinating. Bulgaria was undergoing hyperinflation at the time, so it was good to be elsewhere, but she had the same adjustment issues there that are commonly related by an American living in Japan. There is actually scholarly literature on the subject of culture shock, but frankly even the anecdotal books that document it are really helpful in learning to adjust.

Cleo already had evening plans, so we set up a meeting for tomorrow at noon. I'll have to prepare myself to go into sociability mode; by nature I'm the introvert, so preparing my mind in advance to talk about absolutely everything makes things go more smoothly for me. As I headed back toward my hotel, I approached the circular fountain on Stefan Stambolov Square...

and what should I hear, but a full-sized orchestra playing “Stars and Stripes Forever.”

Samuel Johnson said, “Patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel,” and when I see patriotism in Americans these days, I usually have a negative reaction because it is based, I think, not on love for country, but on on fear and narrow-mindedness and xenophobia. But when I heard this song playing here, my heart just sang for the joy of hearing it. I spotted a little girl, probably seven, dancing with fairy-like grace to the song, and a young father nearby dancing with his child of probably 18 months in his arms. Joy! I fumble-fingered my camera trying to record her, but here she is dancing to the next song.

From there I headed back to the apartment. Prepped my blog for the day. Then jetlag hit with a vengeance. Went to bed at 8:00 p.m., which is exactly the perfect time to do it from the point of view of getting over jetlag. Slept for four hours. Woke up sleepless. Internetted. Went back to bed for 5-6 hours. Got up at 8. Awesome. This should prove perfect for adjustment purposes.

Time to start touring again. Sheesh, my eyes are jetlagged to death. I look like a freakin’ meth addict. Time for some Visine.