Okay, it is officially cold in the Tiny Russian Village…

2:30 a.m. and Boza wanted to go outside…

I mumbled at him that it is cold…. And he sat in the middle of the floor and tried to stare at me. He was off a little in his line of sight and those blind eyes made me sad. I sat up and mumbled some more and Boza came over and laid his head on my lap. Yes, Boza is a good boy and since I am in tune with him, I know he needs to go out to do doggy business… But, hey it is cold…

-32.3 C. and that means -26.14 in F…

So happy doggy and mumbling bear went outside to do doggy business. My breath tinkled as it froze instantly when I breathed out. Boza danced a doggy cold paw paw dance and down the mountain we went. Happy doggy soon became interested in why it seemed so cold beyond normal and soon he did his business and started for home. I found myself all alone standing at the bottom, in the valley and yelled out, “Hey stink butt, where are you going?”

Boza did not listen and actually did not care. I found him at the gate waiting for the lumbering bear to get there. (To be truthful, Boza did come back several times to make sure I was alive! But always ran away. Kinda like hurry up dad!) We got inside where it is a much more pleasant +20 degrees C. and Boza ate three packs of dog food, then went back to bed. I ate two wraps with ham and Boza woke up just enough to eat bites of ham and went back to bed. Of course I am wide awake, thus I worked on some projects of mine and am writing this post…

4:55 a.m. and it is warming up. -31.4 and settling at that… 😉

* * * * *

I want to mention something about my trip the other day to the Big Village

My bus ride back to the Tiny Russian Village bus stop was interesting. The bus was basically packed and they made room for me near the front, since I would get off first. I guess I look like a public information terminal, because everyone always tries to ask me this and that. For Russians who do not know me, they talk to fast for me to gather their meaning many times. Just like English speakers talk to fast for non English speakers to comprehend many times. My brain is in English and the Russian is slow, from that…

But after everyone finds out I am an American, they were all excited. They were not understanding what this American would want to get off the bus at Kommuna or Tiny Russian Village. In fact they were worried. Worried enough to point out everything that might be an issue. That is a Russian for you…. Always trying to help in one form or another…

I got off the bus at my stop and then I heard the bus driver make an exclamation. He just realized who I was. He turned to the bus passengers and told them about the Gazette and the American and Russian Sweetie (Svetochka.)

Сараевский американец Кайл Китон: «Россияне не хотят войны» – American from Sarai, Kyle Keeton: “The Russians do not want war”

Small town and small area, people know and remember everything. The bus got silent and I could feel everyone staring at me, as I put on my snowshoes. I ignored them and they just sat their with faces pressed against the windows of the bus. When I was done, I stood up and looked at them. I smiled and waved goodbye and everyone on the bus all waved and smiled. They were so excited. The very back of the bus made me almost giggle. Three babushkas were all fighting to get their faces in the last window to look at me. It was seriously wonderful. They had lost that worry about a stranger look and garnered the look, that he is one of us, even if a little different. They knew I was familiar and happy here…. They also knew I was normal in this part of the world…

Regardless, I gave them something to talk about!

As I turned to leave, I gave a thumbs up and everyone waved and smiled some really huge Russian smiles. The bus driver honked and off the bus went. That is what I love about Russians; 99% of them are the most wonderful people you would ever meet. They love strangers from other lands and they love to gossip. They showed me what is special about Russians; they were worried about me at first and then when they found out who I was, they became even more so attached to me. But they knew I lived here and I was no fool to worry about… And yes a new American lost in this tiny Russian area would need to be worried about. Because you would find him or her frozen to death before they figured out about the way of life and its survival…

I just love Russia…

* * * * *

Vova’s Dreams…

Vova found the energy to walk to one of his girlfriends…

Vova realized that he needed a gal for a night. There is one gal who just loves him and she is really smitten with him. She was going to come to our village, but the weather is just too bad and Vova after huffing about lazy people, all of a sudden, realized if he wants a date, he better get moving…

Therefore, last night at about 5 p.m. Vova dressed like an Eskimo headed out. He knew he had a blazed trail to walk on, for I had already broken the ground all the way to the main road. Vova left the Tiny Russian Village, Vodka Flask in hand, singing his favorite songs and looking forward to a wonderful night. He said, “до завтра” – do zavtra – see you tomorrow…. and disappeared from sight…

I smiled…

* * * * *

I had a good night. No music blasting from Vova’s home, no one wanted something, no one at all. Boza and I were alone for the most part. There is one babushka at the top of the village and she does not bother anyone. We (Boza and I) had the village to ourselves…

Peaceful night…

WtR

kKEETON @ Windows to Russia…

Permission to reprint in whole or in part is gladly granted, provided full credit is given...

A survivor of six heart attacks and a brain tumor, a grumpy bear of a man, who has declared Russia as his new and wonderful home (&) Honestly, I have no idea how much to ask for, but is a gift of even $1 something you'd be able to consider, to help keep Windows to Russia online in a Tiny Russian Village?