Ah, Beatrice. Beatrice is the older of my two dogs, and my favorite. (Probably I should not admit to favorites, but yeah. I’ve got one, and Bea’s it.) Bea is a dog with outsized personality but little backbone, and Bea’s general timidity is why we haven’t taken much advantage of the fabulous off-leash area t Chatfield State Park. Read more
I posted a lot during my trip. Here are all the posts, in order. Read more
What can I say about Kazan?
It is a beautiful city. Perhaps the most beautiful I’ve ever visited. Kazan didn’t quite manage to overshadow everything I experienced in Mongolia, but I no longer feel like Mongolia was completely without rival. Kazan makes a play for the gold. Read more
I would like to split these two experiences into two entries, but they are so entwined that I don’t think I can. Sleeping in a ger was part of being at the monastery, and I will never be able to separate the experience of the Khögnö Tarnyn Khiid Monastery from meeting its guardian and sleeping in her home. Read more
A few weeks ago I found myself realizing, amid the general frustrations of what was an unusually unpleasant work week, that I don’t write much anymore. At least, not as part of my job. Sure, I write hasty emails (more full of typos than I care to admit) and now and then edit an internal procedural page, but rarely do I have the opportunity to immerse myself in a project, grok the inner workings of something, and then find the best way to present those workings to an audience.
The jokester in me sits giggling in the corner and suggesting that I explain the long delay in this final post with a long adventure yarn having to do with my entry status in Belarus. But I’m typing this from my couch in Denver, having had precisely zero issues with my lack of an entry stamp when leaving Belarus. Read more
We got one the train in Moscow and I fell asleep almost instantly. On every other train we’ve taken, the train attendant carefully scrutinized our passports before allowing us aboard, verifying our names there with the names on our tickets. This time, the train attendant didn’t even open our passports. She didn’t glance at our visas to ensure that we were entering Belarus legally. (And believe me there was no question we were Americans.) She just glanced at our tickets and waved us on the train. Read more