OK.  So I've done a bit of Russia now.  A week or so in St. Petersburg and now
over a week in Moscow.  I'm leaving Moscow for Beijing tomorrow and definitely
won't be able to write for at least 6 or 7 days because I'm not carrying a
satellite telephone with me and I don't expect to meet anyone on the
Trans-Siberian rail who will be either (technically I'm taking the
Trans-Mongolian).

Moscow has been fun.  I case you've forgotten, or maybe you didn't know at all,
Russian is the only language I studied in school.  I failed two years of it in
high school and guilt over that caused me to try to make up for it during my
time here.  I engaged a language tutor, religiously studied from textbooks, and
have again failed to master the language; though I did learn two interesting
things:

     1) All verbs in Russian have aspects.  This is merely a technical term for
     adding a prefix to a verb to alter its meaning.  An example of this in
     english would be to apply 'dis' to 'interested' to make  'disinterested'.
     In Russian though, pretty much every aspect (dis, up, il, etc.) can be
     applied to any verb and the effect can be quite subtle.   Aspects were
     never mentioned in my high school classes!  Knowing this has helped me to
     come to terms with my failure.  It's difficult to comprehend a language if
     you're expecting the root of a verb to come first when its buried between
     layers of aspect and conjugation in nearly every use.  My tutor and I came
     up with a funny example of how many aspects there are and and how they
     affect the language.  We found, using only 3 or 4 words, over 10 different
     ways to say, "I finished reading the book yesterday."  And of course they
     all sound completely unintelligible if you aren't able to separate the
     aspect from the verb.

2. Related to verb aspects, and of some cultural significance in my opinion, is
the linguistic existence of restrictions on what is to be conceived of as a
limited resource.  I attempted to say the following -- "I need more time to
learn the Russian language." -- in an exhausted plea for a break during one
gruesome session.  In saying so I experimentally used an aspect to modify the
infinitive verb "to learn" to indicate that "to learn" was somehow limited in
duration and scope.  Alexei immediately interjected the innapropriateness of
doing so.  "You cannot use that aspect to modify things that are of boundless
extent!"  Suddenly it was as if I'd seen a small portion of the collective
Russian soul, for I now had learned that their language doesn't allow
restrictive aspects to modify thought related verbs.  I now knew why all the
Russians I've ever met in math classes did better than me.  Their native
language doesn't allow them to think of their mental resources as restricted!!
It's as if the phrase "I can't learn math" is outlawed by linguistic rule and
can only be replaced with "I don't yet understand math."

Tonight at around midnight I board the train for what surely will be the
longest train journey of my life.  I've prepared for the last two days for the
trip, doing laundry, shopping for food, and generally tidying up my affairs.
I've found and hired a translator to meet me at the train in China and (with a
huge amount of help from Karen) fiddled over Royal Nepal air tickets for the
next leg of my journey.

Moscow is the Chicago of Russia.  It's the potato of an evening meal.  It's the
stout calves that support a sturdy frame.  It's not particularly beautiful
having mostly been re-constructed by the Soviets, it's not particularly
glamorous as wealth is worn rather ostentatiously here, and it's even a bit
boring.  But it's the heart and soul of a great civilization and well-educated
people.  The vodka is good, the women are pretty, the weather is cold, and the
economy is completely in upheaval because the government isn't strong enough to
collect taxes and thereby exert control over greed driven decision making.

Give it another ten years and you'll feel right at home here -- except that
you'd look very out of place wearing your grotty old slouch-around-the-house
jeans to McDonald's.  You wouldn't get past the parking attendant!

I always enjoy it when you write me -- so thanks and take care!