21 Nov 2012

Finally, some excitement in our lives!  We went to a professional soccer game last night.  It was a very unique experience.

Nathanael put us onto the fact that Barcelona was coming to Moscow to play a Champion's League game.  Barcelona is a great team and has one of the two best players in the world, Lionel Messi.

So we got some help from one of the young men in the office and bought some tickets fro $75 apiece and got ready for the game.  I had Goggled the location, time, something about the opponent (Spartac Moscow), the right Metro stop, etc.

We have seen the stadium several times from the hill south, and above it.  The hill is where Napoleon overlooked Moscow in 1812 and where the huge Stalin-era building sits on the Moscow State University campus.

My internet research had taught me that the game was to start at 1800 (6:00 p.m. for us Americans.)  We needed to eat before the game so that gave me an excuse to head for a McDonald's on the way to the stadium, so I located the nearest Metro stop with one close to the stadium.  I wanted to be plenty early at the stadium because I wanted to soak in the experience.  It will almost certainly never happen again in this lifetime.

So we left work at 3:00 thinking that we would go to the flat, change into some warm cloths, hit the Metro, get to McDonald's about 4:00, eat and finish the ride to the stadium at about 5:00--giving us an hour to spare.  Everything went swimmingly until we got off the Metro stop and started walking the half mile, or so, to the stadium.  There was hardly anyone around except police and soldiers.  This is strange, I thought.  Even in Moscow soccer fans would know about Barcelona and want to come and see Messi play.

So I checked the tickets and sure enough the date was right, November 20.  We went up to the stadium and walked right in, past the turnstiles, etc.  I thought, again, this just can't be right.  They can't have all of these soldiers around and just let any doofus walk into the stadium.  So I got the tickets out again and noticed, for the first time, that the start was set for 2100, not 1800, as my 'research' had discovered.  (Maybe start time was 1800 in Barcelona?)

Anyway, we had four hours to kill, and it was colder than a well-digger's behind!  Duh!  I felt about as stupid as a liberal must feel every day.  Ridiculous!  I am going to have to retire I guess.

Well, we killed 2.5 hours and then went looking for our seats.  Here are some pics and some commentary.

The is inside the Metro stop.  For you who visited, this is the one that sits above the Moscow River.  It is quite a lovely station and has some striking sports memorabilia throughout.

Here is some hockey stuff.

You can see the Metro stop behind Marlene.  Doesn't she smile nicely?

We are walking beside the 1980 Olympic swimming pool on our way to the stadium.

It holds about 90 or 100 thousand folks.  Pretty impressive except for the open roof.

That hill and building in the background are those things I mentioned earlier. Our Utah visitors have seen booth sights and looked down on the stadium from Sparrow Hill.

This is what you get when you are four hours early--the place to yourself.

This is the east end of the stadium and pretty close to where our (useless) seats were located.
We, and everyone else stood for the whole game.

Right side.

Left side.  We had soldiers about every five feet.  That helped Marlene's confidence--not.

The little yellow canvas thing in the center of the picture is where the players came on and off the field.

The hole in the roof.

Troops marching for the heck of it.

Mr. Lenin.  I guess he is not in that mausoleum on Red Square after all.

Another example of the 'midget-scale."

Whew!  We were able to find our seats and lucky us, we only have another hour and a half to wait.

See the soldiers standing among the seats  to Marlene's left?  They are just kids, of course, but they were everywhere.

The jumbo screen on our end of the field.

You can't tell it, but those are the team logos:  Spartac (Spartacus) on the left and Barcelona on the right.

I am wearing my newly purchased Spartac scarf just to make sure the locals know I am a loyal fan.

We had a funny thing happen to us as we approached the (now-manned) turn styles.  We got near the front of the line and a nice looking couple off to the side and out of the entry line was calling to us. The ticket taker somehow communicated to us that this couple wanted to talk to us.  Since there was no press of people to get into the stadium we got out of line and went over to see what they wanted.  They started jabbering to us in Spanish, asking if we were Barcelona fans.  I know a little Spanish of course, so I was able to tell them Nyet.

We puzzled over why they would think we were Spanish and I think tonight Marlene has just hit on the answer.  We saw not one other babushka in the stadium.  The people who wanted to talk to us must have thought, "No sane Russian babushka would come to a soccer game.  That lady, therefore, must be a Barcelona fan, and therefore Spanish."

That was funny.

Here are some Spartac players warming up.  We were on their end of the pitch for the first half and about 50 meters from the field.

They watered the whole field prior to the came.

We wondered, when it was 90 minutes before the game and no one but us was in the stadium, if we would have any company.  They filled the joint.

The UEFA emblem has been brought to the center of the field.

The Spartac mascot.

Everyone's seat had a piece of plastic wrap on it.  The colors were different depending on the seat.

The full crowd on the other end of the field is holding their plastic sheets up, spelling Spartac Moskva.  Pretty cool, eh?

The teams are walking onto the pitch, with the children along side, as they always are.

The camera is panning down the line of players.

You can see the plastic thingees being held up by the fans on our end.

Getting warmed up and ready to start.

Messi is number 10.

Some of the Spanish players are quite small. 

Much of the first half of the game was played in our end.  Barcelona dominated in ball possession, which is almost always how they play.

They just press forward slowly, slowly, until they get an opening and then they pounce.

Messi just hangs around in the center of the field waiting to take charge.  On the other hand the Spanish can hurt you with any of their players.

Getting ready for a corner kick.

Spartac played okay.  They have some skilled players, but not as skilled as the Spanish.  Barcelona pressed them constantly and they could not hold the ball.

Spartac would occasionally get a break toward the Barcelona en but the Spanish were more than equal to defending their goal.

Here is the half time score, and the final score.

Messi's goals were not works of art, but they did not have to be.  I got the impression that he is an assassin.  He just waits for his chances and then he kills you.  And he has got so much help that the opposition cannot focus on him.

I'm sure he can dribble in a phone booth and is as quick as a cat.

The half time show.  I think they are either the Courgettes, or more likely, the U. of U. ettes.

It got really crowded once the game started.  The aisles were full of fans, everyone was standing.  Half of the people were smoking.  It got pretty uncomfortable for us--cold and lots of smoke.  We left with about 15 minutes left in the game and with the Spanish just holding the ball, running out the clock.

It was a great experience.  Thank you, Nathanael.

We hope you all have a wonderful Thanksgiving.  Love America and love your families.

18 Nov 2012, 2030 hours.

Workers of the world:  Unite!  Come to Moscow for the winter. Test your manhood.

I have not blogged much lately because our lives have fallen into a boring routine.  The children have gone home--so all the fun has gone from Moscow.  The area presidency has come home--and have resumed working me like the Russian serf that I have become.

I will pre-apologize for the inclusion of some granddaughter pictures in this edition of the blog.  I know it's not good form to apologize for one's writing, but there you go.  However, in my defense, I think any honest observer will have to admit that we don't brag up our grandchildren nearly as much as, say, (just picking a name at random from a hat full of names) the Thomsen's do.

Daylight has shrunk to about eight hours a day.  The sun hardly shines even in those hours, though that's its job.  By 12/21, the winter solstice, we will have the sun rising at about 10:00 a.m. and setting at 4:00 p.m.

I did not realize it until after the winter when I looked back on the experience, from the perspective of spring, that I was probably a  little depressed when we first got here.  That might explain the holes I kicked in the concrete walls of our flat.

Apropos that introduction, we happened to catch our good friends, Dave and Connie Peterson, on Skype yesterday morning.  Our conversation turned toward winter, and darkness and depression, and they gave the wonderful suggestion that one might be able to find a special light the you can turn on during the winter that helps to brighten one's flat and therefore one's mood.

You can see from the photo below that the Peterson's are nothing, if not cheerful ... or something.

Seriously, we are grateful for the advice.

The Peterson's preparing for a dark winter, or getting ready to fly to St. George

On to the photos and the commentary.

Some babe on the Metro.

We see lots of tee shirts in English.  I think this young man "Survived the Invasion" of the zombies.

Addie has just learned that her parents are both leaving on another trip and that Aunt Rachael will be tending her.

Sister Johnson decorating our hotel room in Tallinn, Estonia.

Addie and her dad at the doctor's office.  She is, or course, mimicking his stance.

I think this picture might have been taken before she got her shots, but that is just a guess.

Addie helping to decorate our front yard.
Nice pants for this outfit, right?

This is Nathanael and Joclynn's girl, Jessie.  She is either six of 16, I can't really remember for sure.

This is from church today and a very tender scene.  The brother on the left is a recent convert and is giving his first church talk, in French.  The brother at his left is interpreting into English.  But the interpreter was standing too far from the microphone so we could not hear the interpretation.

But, the main point is that the gospel moves forward across the world, one person at a time.

A Phillapina sister spoke next is quite good English.  She spoke about the need to accept the callings that come to us.  It was a very tender talk given by a very sweet sister.

Another illegal photo in church, but the Primary children sang the intermediate song today.  They look and sound just like a small Primary anywhere in America.  They are cute and it was fun.

This photo marks a very sad moment.  I am eating the last of the Cheerios the children brought to us when they came to visit last month.  I know all you rich Americans don't care much about Cheerios, but we poor Russians crave them.

A close look will show you a raspberry on my spoon.  Marlene carefully saved a few raspberries from the summer when they were briefly available.

Cheerios, raspberries, and pretty good milk are going to be a hard combination for me to beat, post-mission.

Have I mentioned that I have walked all over Moscow with my BYU hoodie and have not seen a single bit of recognition in anyone's eyes?

Not only do we need to bring the Church out of obscurity but let's nor forget BYU.

Sunrise at about 0830.

Two of the brethren eating fish eggs.  I don't think it is going to catch on.

Elder Walker getting ready to strum his saw.  He is really good at it.

We are celebrating our 47th anniversary in the office.

Friends helping us celebrate.  Of course we had to buy the cake.

Someday I will tell you about the brother who is third from the left.

We have gone to a restaurant with friends on the night of the anniversary and met other friends from the office and a couple on their way home to Utah from about their fifth Russian mission.

This is the front door to the Jones' apartment.  The clocks are labeled "Fruit Heights" and "Moscow."

One of the anniversary roses close up.

I think we have mentioned to you that the Russians feel it is bad luck to give someone an even number of roses--unless you are wishing them ill, or the flowers are for a death.  So, when I went to the store to buy the flowers the sweet clerk, who did not speak much English, asked how many I wanted.  Of course I said "A dozen", forgetting the custom.

She typed the number in a calculator (which his how sales people tell us how much something costs), and she asked, "Is this the right number?"  I said, 'yes', and then she signaled that I should probably buy one more.  It finally dawned on me what the problem was, so Marlene got 13 roses.

I owed the Jones' and the Hopkinson's something in return for recent kindnesses they had done for us, so we determined to take them to dinner and the circus.  We had to go a few days early to buy the tickets because it is often impossible to get tickets by just showing up.

This is in a park across the street from the Old Circus.

Nathanael and Ben horsing around.

Speaking of that--as we rode the Metro to church this morning a couple and a boy about 16 got on.  She was carrying a hockey goalie stick--apparently the young man's.  As they got off a few stops later we saw his really big bag full of hockey stuff.  We know what that is about.

Marlene has found a new friend.

Becky, Rachael, and Emily getting ready to do their chores.

We went to a mall to test a newly opened Wendy's and Marlene was impressed by the ambiance.

This was in a toy store.  The cost was about $700.

Holiday decorations, but you can't tell the scale very well.

Here is a lamp compared to a midget.

We have traded secretaries in the office.  Evgenia, standing, is moving to the Service Center.  Oksansa, on the left is coming to replace her.  Olga in the orange blouse is just a day or two away from going on her mission to London.

Pizza and juice (sok.)

The Jones' on our night at the circus.

Inside the circus.  Sister Jones is having some kind of trouble, but none of us were brave enough to ask her about it.

The circus band stand.

Our view from the cheap seats.

Apparently dinner was insufficient.

Dawn from our back window.

Olga just after being set apart by President Bioko.

That was a tender experience, a Russian stake president in Moscow, setting apart one of our Russian friends to take the gospel to the English.

A women's mission conference at the stake center last Friday.  I think it was just an excuse so Marlene could leave me at office in order to have a little fun with the girls.

Children, you heard that Izmaylova had a fire?  This is just inside the front gate.  The watch shop survived but all of the booths for about the first 75 years were toast.  The fire burned up to and including Ivan's stall.

We say him yesterday and he seemed to be okay.  He is adaptable.

Construction on the kiosks.

Still in Izmaylova.

I think this is one of the president's initiatives.

With his reelection we won't need anymore military stuff. 

A new, for us, Metro station--shiny and bright, just like me, and the Peterson's.