First Things First

In case you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m putzing around, trying to figure out how to tell you about my latest trip—the one to Russia. Despite frequent evidence to the contrary, I’m one of those tell-it-from-the-beginning and tell-it-in-chronological-order OCD types. Thing is, I’m not writing a travelogue here, and don’t want it to even resemble one, which is what starting at the beginning will do.

My twelve days in Russia weren’t long enough to offer any sage pronouncements on things Russian—their politics, living conditions, history, soul, or anything else. And my muse, unreliable thing that she is, wants to jump mid-way into the trip and tell you about the explosion and the beginning of a new revolution, the home-hosted dinner that started out ominous, the limerick challenge, or the three hour lecture on Russian history that had us begging for more. Or incredible Kazhi Island. All of those things would be out of context, their meanings and effects diluted.

So what to do? I’m still thinking, waiting for things to coalesce. Maybe I’ll go write those stories the muse seems to be so interested in, then see if I can figure out a way to string them together before she loses interest and rushes off to something else. Wish me luck.