November 25th

The outside of the clinic

Inside of the clinic-the waiting room

The moment we almost lost Matt Faust. He's the one with the red bag three up who's pressed against the cliff for dear life. I'm behind him feeling less then thrilled. Thanks to Brenden's steely nerves for the picture.

Last Irkutsk picture I promise! Again, contemplating life. This picture isn't staged, I often look that pensive and stoic...

Story time!

A father and daughter were riding a horse through the Kafkaz when the horse trips on a stone. The father pulls out his knife and yells, “One!” Twenty minutes later, the horse trips again and the father, still brandishing his knife, yells, “Two!” An hour later, the horse trips a third time. The father yells, “Three!” and proceeds to cut the horse’s throat. As they walk away, the daughter is sobbing and wailing and asking her father why he just killed their horse. The father looks at his daughter, pulls out his knife and yells, “One!”

Got to love it. Or not, if that suits you. Don’t let me be the judge! Anyways, so, Brenden’s clinic experience with the rabies and whatnot. They say that a picture is worth a thousand words, so I feel like throwing a few pictures up of this place will keep me from boring you, dear reader, to tears with a description of the inside of a Russian emergency room. It was wooden, Spartan, and smelt of rubbing alcohol but the staff was professional and put me at ease (of course I wasn’t the one getting stuck with unknown medicines…). So, I really was imagining that I’d have a lot to say about this whole experience, but as I’m wracking my brain, there’s really not a whole lot to tell. The shots were free (socialized health care and all that) and Brenden is still alive, so all’s well that ends well right? I think so.

Attention Reader: as my time here draws to a close, I feel like I’ve focused a lot on my day to day activities and less on broad social perspectives or other things of the sort that I’ve observed. I try to include that sort of thing on the blog, but often I don’t include things that I imagine are routine but perhaps you would have been dying to know. What I’m trying to say in way to many words is this: If you have any requests, anything you’d really like to know about Russia, Russians, or what happens when you poke a bear with a stick, please feel free to post a comment/request or just shoot me an e-mail. All those burning questions that you’ve always wanted to know about but you’ve been to afraid to ask. Like, “how many people can you fit on a 15 passenger bus and still close the door?”, or “how many times do you need to nearly die crossing the road before you become inured to fear of death by motorist?” or “how can I judge the depth of a mud puddle-lake using only basic geometric calculations and what’s the safe operating depth for stiletto heels?” I may not be able to answer (and I’ll try not to make stuff up just to sound intelligent, but I’m not making any promises) but I’ll do my best or find someone here who knows the answer. Off to watch some footy.