Drones Club

Monday, September 27, 2004

Greetings from Kazan!

By hook, crook and passing truck I've made my way fairly commodiously to Kazan, a large city en route to Ekaterinburg. To note: Tolstoy and Lenin studied here as boys. Also to note: the savory yam and pumpkin pies one can buy on the street, brushed with a sugared, spiced butter. Mainly to note: photos of the lovely Ekaterina can be found here and there in the local periodicals, and I've clipped a fetching portrait of her as a bookmark. When I get nearer her home town I'll hide it in my wallet, but for now it's just the right fuel to keep a fellow slogging on through the gray morning sludge and icicle nights (not to mention the Turgenev). It shan't be long before we mark the meeting our grandchildren will look back upon as their receipt of origin. Until then it's another hot pot of tea, a plate of herring and potato, and a self-guided lesson in cyrillic across the back of a napkin.

Monday, September 13, 2004

Greetings from Moscow!

Todd's plane was brought down in an ice storm just outside of Belgorod, a city on the Russia/Ukraine border. This is all for the best as Belgorod is hundreds of miles past our destination of Moscow, and far, far past my final stop of Ekaterinburg (or Yekaterinburg). My phrasebook has been all I've needed so far to find a hot cup of tea, a meat pie, and this Internet café. Really lovely people, if you try to speak a bit of the language. One fellow shook my hand a good six times, and cried twice. I say, if this hospitable spirit truly pervades the Russian landscape, then I shall quite enjoy my trip eastwards.

Tuesday, September 07, 2004


Tootle-ta, everyone! Tonight I board for Moscow, to slowly make my way to Ekaterinburg, home of Ekaterina! I shall pop into the odd Internet cafe to apprise you of my journey. It shall be the adventure of a lifetime, and I am full of vim and vinegar as the hour of departure draws nearer!

Thursday, September 02, 2004

Like a fading photograph

With each passing day, I feel like Ekaterina is a photograph fading in the sun, soon to wrinkle and fall in bits to the ground, soon never to have existed at all. I'll be blasted if I can get these Russian-language detective agencies to respond. Perhaps I will charter a flight with Todd once my language skills are up to snuff. I could sell the Austin-Healey, that should set me up for a few months or more abroad. Ah, that's just the thing! I shall immerse myself in the local culture for a few months first, to get my feet down. Perhaps in the next town over from hers. That's top shelf, that one. Must be all the fish I've been eating. Tonight, caviar and cabbage soup!