We go to distsant lands!

We go to distant lands!
I think that everyone dreams to leave their home, at least for a short time, and go somewhere far away, to see other lands and countries. Of course, one can use the computer to see overseas beauty—or even virtually fly over Paris. By the way, my children gave me the opportunity to feel like a real cosmonaut and a pilot of a fantastic ship! How extraordinary, scary, and interesting!
But what if you were given the opportunity to go, or rather, fly, thousands of miles away from your home, and for free? And on top of that, were given a few hundred dollars—would you take it? Yes, yes, you would definitely take this opportunity! And I did it too!
It happened like this. I had been working for several years as a Russian teacher at a high school in Columbia, South Carolina. Between lessons, I had a half hour break, which I spent in the teacher’s lounge. One day, a history teacher walked in and invited me to accompany her to another school, where a Skype videoconference was going to be held. It turned out that our city of Columbia and the Russian city of Kaluga are twins, and had been working together for some time. The US government had allocated quite a lot of money to pay for teachers’ trips—both American and Russian. An association was organized, which can roughly be called: “Deliberation in Democracy.” Some of the Americans had already traveled to the city of Kaluga. Now they were preparing for the next trip. Anyway, I went to the videoconference, and I saw some of my students who could greet their peers in Russian. I asked them to speak a little and spoke a bit myself. The Russians were very pleased—they did not expect to hear Russian in Columbia. We enjoyed speaking with them, too.
After the conference, a woman, who was the representative from the organization in Washington, approached me and invited me to take part in the work and even teach the American teachers a little Russian. I gladly agreed.
Several months passed. We had been going to trainings on how to teach democracy to Russians, and I was trying to understand the goal of this group. I understood the main point—that the Americans were trying to teach the Russians about democracy. I gave Russian lessons, invited people to my house, treated them to Russian and Ukrainian food, and introduced them to Russian culture. And suddenly, I received joyful news: they also take me to Kaluga with me! I was happy, I started preparing for the trip during the holidays.
My reader knows that I like to digress from my main points. It is now time to do this once more—this time, about broken arms and legs.
I’ve already been through this problem with my feet—I had to use crutches and then teach myself to walk again. That was a tough time, I’ll tell you!
The day of my departure came. My possessions and gifts were stuffed into two suitcases, and I had a big bag with my documents and tickets! And for some reason, I decided to check the trunk of the car to see whether all these items are stacked. I do not remember how exactly it happened, but, all in a moment, I lost consciousness, fell to the ground, and twisted my arm! I quickly came to, stood up, and felt the pain in my knee and in my hand! Remember the movie “The Diamond Arm?” The main character slipped and fell, and when he woke back up, he had a cast!
 
Everything was much worse for me. My knee was scraped, I was bleeding, and my left hand immediately swelled and hung limp. I went back in the house, where my friends were, and did not say anything about my accident—I just wrapped a bandage around my arm and smeared some ointment on my knee. It seems that, when I fell, my arm got twisted, and maybe, something fractured! When we arrived at the airport, I was barely able to pull my two suitcases with my right hand—an on top of that, I had a backpack on! We landed safely in Atlanta, but I had a pain in my wrist. And, on top of that, my arm was swelling more and more! Finally, we flew out of Atlanta to Moscow. I happened to sit next to a young Russian guy, and we had a good conversation. Our discussion lasted a long time—the most important thing is that, it turns out, the young man had had a part in designing the aircraft itself, and assured me that it would be a safe flight. And it was! None of my friends—the Americans—found out about my problem; I suffered in silence. When the top of the Sheremetyevo airport appeared, I saw snow covering the whole airfield. What beauty! My colleagues screamed with delight—in our city, you see snow only once in a few years!
We had to get to Kaluga on a small, old bus. I let the Americans go in front of me, and when I got on the bus, all good the seats were taken—there was only one seat at the back, near our luggage. Our suitcases and bags kept moving; they had to be held up, which I did with my healthy right hand (while my left hand continued to be in pain)—for four hours! The only thing that made the ride a little better was seeing the Russian birches outside the window, which grew aplenty.
In Kaluga, we stayed in a beautiful hotel called “21st Century!” When Peter, a Russian member of our association, met us, I told him about my big problem. He took me to a trauma clinic, which was not far from the hotel, where an elderly surgeon first looked at my hand, and then with an X-ray determined that I had a fracture and a displacement. He assured me that he could correct it. I agreed. And here is where the fun begins! In America, we had already gotten used to good healthcare! The doctor took me into a separate room, and sat me down in a chair. And he brought a hammer and nails. I was frightened and went numb—there’s no way he was going to hammer nails into me! But the man hammered nails into a wooden table, tied a string between them, and asked me to put my hand there. He gave me a very painful shot, from which I felt dizzy. A moment later, he pulled my wrist forward and jerked it! The pain was unbearable—I yelled and even started crying! My hand was put in a cast, bandaged, and I was offered to buy a sling from the pharmacy. I barely reached the hotel, only wanting one thing: to take a nap while my American roommate was away. But it was not possible! They had invited me to a restaurant where the teachers were ordering dinner—they wanted my advice on what to order. And I had to slowly make my way over and help my friends. The night passed in great pains; I only managed to fall asleep in the morning, and only for a little while. In this short time, I had a strange dream. In the dream, God seemed to have explained me why my arms and legs keep breaking.
In Yiddish it sounds like this:
Zoln daine bainer zih brahna azay ot, vidi asarez hadibres
“That your may bones break as often as the Ten Commandments are violated.”
Almost all people in life’s tragic circumstances turn to God, asking for what sins they are being punished. It turns out that when we violate the Ten Commandments, we are punished!



 






I woke up, frightened, and the pain in my wrist had not yet passed, so I swallowed some pills and went on the first tour of the wonderful city of Kaluga. The day was long and hard, but my new experiences and American friends distracted me from the pain.
We visited the Tsiolkovsky Museum, a hangar in which the father of cosmonautics assembled his flying machines and a park dedicated to a scientist from Kaluga—unforgettable!




 
The next day, we were greeted by a Russian folk dance performed by students from one of the best schools in Kaluga.
 
They listened attentively to their teacher and watched the American teachers intently. The environment in the class was very friendly; the classrooms were full of love.
We sat in on history classes, watched how the students defended their opinions, how they worked in groups, and how they communicated with one another. All of this happened very naturally and clearly. At the end of the lesson, the students drew out conclusions.
We visited several elementary, middle, and high schools; over and over, we were received with enthusiasm and hospitality. I remembered this trip forever. After returning to America, I changed my teaching methods a little, applying the experience that I had gained.
Teachers in Kaluga still gather together, discussing the methods and application of "Reflections on Democracy".
Our mutual meetings were not in vain. The tasks and goals of teachers—even in different countries—were the same!
My hand gradually healed. I refused the American doctors’ offer to operate on my fracture, because the Russian doctor had already done all of this, for which I remain very grateful. By the way, the next year after that I went to Kaluga again and thanked the elderly surgeon for the free help! [Ed. note: healthcare—what is considered by most in the developed world to be a “basic human right”—was free. Imagine that!] I am very grateful.
I try not to violate the Ten Commandments anymore!

               

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