Valparaiso Singers’ Russian Journal

Click here to download this journal as a Microsoft Word document.

The Valparaiso Singers’ Russian Journal

Day 1, September 22, 2000 San Francisco International Airport

Well, this journal almost didn’t get started . . . at least not by me.

But first things first. The big day has arrived. We’ve been planning for this for so long now, and we’re finally here at the airport. We drive up to the curb and see ALL THE BOXES! I had no idea there would be so much stuff. For the first time, I got a sense of the magnitude of this project, and by at least the sheer volume of supplies that we are taking, I felt that it really will make a difference, and that we are helping a lot of people.

The buzz of excitement was very apparent at the airport—a lot of energy in the air! We had a wonderful concert last night. I could feel that many members of the audience were touched. My mother, who came to watch our two year old daughter while we are gone, said to me after the performance that she almost wished she was going with us. I was shocked to hear that! She rarely travels anywhere—let alone outside of the country. Of course she was joking, just a bit, but she was touched by the spirit at the performance and truly felt the purpose of the trip and the importance of what we’re doing.

Well, at the airport, Nara handed out our tickets and my wife Michelle and I went up to the counter to check in. First, my wife checks in and then she took off to go spend time with the baby. Then I handed the guy my passport and ticket and he handed me my boarding pass.

I was almost ready to leave the counter when Nara shouts out asking if anyone had a ticket with a last name starting with "G". I glanced down a my boarding pass and I realized that I had Marsha Gustafson’s boarding pass in my hand.

Somehow, I’d gotten through the desk where they checked the passports/visas and put on my bags and gotten my seat assignment all using Marsha’s ticket. But I thought I’d checked in using my ticket and that the guy printed the wrong boarding pass. When I asked him to check me in he said that he didn’t have my ticket. We spent the next hour or so looking around and going through every stack of tickets looking for mine.

After looking through every stack and talking to every supervisor we discovered that my name had been left off the list of passengers that was given to Aeroflot. Nara and Judith ended up having to purchase a ticket for me–in cash!

Once on the plane, the game of musical chairs began. Most of the group had been seated all over the plane with many in or near the smoking section in the back. It wasn’t too much of a problem until we left Seattle. At first, a few people were allowed to move up to business class, only to be booted out again. The Hansens got to go back up to business class again. I think some bribes were made.

Nara seems stressed out trying to smooth everything over with the crew. But I think she’s doing a great job. There’s no way to move this many people without a few glitches.

Now that things have settled down and everyone has a seat (although not their own), it should be an easy flight into Moscow.

I just talked to Nara, and she told us that so far we’ve had to spend $200 on bribes to the crew, but that half of it was a waste because the crew was switched in Seattle. She had to start from scratch with the second crew. However, she said that we’ve done pretty good on our "bribe budget."

All in all, everyone seems to be having a good time. Anything this important, such as the goals of this trip, is bound to be met with some form of opposition. Any issues or problems that we may have can be considered a testament to the purpose of our trip. The adversary may try to discourage us where he can, but we have a higher purpose in mind than our own comfort, and our trip is truly meant to touch and help others. Everyone in the group knows it, and that’s why they have so much excitement.

Well, my writing day was short, but very eventful. Soon we’ll be crossing over the North Pole on our way to Russia-—bearing gifts. It sort of evokes the Spirit of Christmas, for we are going with the Spirit of Christ.

— Doug Cunningham

Day 2, September 23, 2000 Arctic Circle, Moscow

At about 2 am (PDST) the cabin was dark and quiet. The steward was quietly reaching over the sleepers to push the shade closed in anticipation of imminent sunrise. Only a few watchers were awake.

I noticed a very thin pink/orange band on the left side that began to separate the darkness of below from the promise of azure blue above. The light seemed to be gathering at a point about 40š off the left of our heading. It was a good time for a stretch and a stroll. The seats were getting harder by the half-hour.

5 am (PDST) A wake-up greeting with cabin lighting coming up–hot towelettes–juice– breakfast a cold platter–the yogurt was good. Hmm-–the sun now seems off the right side.

6:05 am (PDST) Made landfall – after looking down upon band after band of puffy clouds above an uncertain blue-gray background, we began to see shapes that became lagoons. Then a circlet of buildings could be seen defining a sheltering cove, perhaps a fishing village. The land seems extremely flat, with woods and fields scattered about. the Ashby youngsters are zonked out. Others are standing about stretching, talking.

6:55 am (PDST) We were landing at Moscow. We were finally at the #2 ramp and all the overhead cabinets began snapping open and all shapes and sizes of bags came forth. The baggage carrel was rather exciting to watch, as we looked for our old friends, "Viewsonic" and "Image," as they were identified and whisked aside. After patiently identifying all checked baggage and pairing up all carry on baggage, we "trooped" to customs to see what obstacles might have to be overcome. The boxes began being carted away, then we were directed to wheel our bags through customs, expecting perhaps a special inspection. Suddenly, we were all past customs, reunited with the boxes and waiting transport. We had swooshed through customs as we will likely never swoosh again. There must have been some really great preparatory work.

The boxes for Voronezh were all loaded up, and we boarded the bus for Moscow, baggage under and all around. By this time night had fallen. Nara S. introduced us to Nicholas, our bus driver. We agreed to take a Nara narrated evening tour of Moscow. We saw numerous well-lighted (that is to say well-presented with lighting) buildings: Moscow Stake University, Bolshoi Theatre, White House, St. Basil’s Cathedral, newly rebuilt Cathedral of Christ the Savior. The sculpture of Peter the Great (Tsereteli’s) was huge! We drove down a street past the Trinity Monastery of St. Seggi – then made a U turn and returned to pause for another look. Apparently it had survived several attempts by Stalin to blow it up, thwarted by nuns who would disarm the mines each night.

Earlier we stopped by the ski jump of the Moscow Games, with a grand view of the domed sports stadium below. We also stopped at McDonald’s for burgers and drinks. This was about 10 pm local Moscow time.

Finally, we have arrived at our hotel, the Rossia, and are waiting to be checked in to our rooms. It’s approaching 2am and since we are nibbling at our third day, I am about ready to pass the journal.

Before I do, I must mention that Svetlana was at the airport to help smooth the way. At one point, after clearing customs, we gathered close around and she gave a heartfelt welcome address. I think that really did two things: 1) we are here on a significant task, and 2) WE ARE REALLY HERE!!!

— Frank G. Bingham

Day 3, Sunday, September 24, 2000 Moscow

It’s amazing how you can recover after only three hours of sleep, even without any at all the previous thirty-four hours! We awoke bright and refreshed Sunday morning at 6:15 am. We had a wonderful buffet breakfast down on the 2nd floor with a magnificent panoramic view of the Kremlin and Red Square. Our Hotel Rossia is only about three hundred yards away and we can see St. Basil’s beautiful domes.

The weather was great as we drove south of town to church. In spite of our hurrying, we were late for the local branch Sacrament meeting (since it started at 9:00 not 10:00), but we were permitted to have our own meeting. And it was sweet. The spirit was very strong as many of us shared testimonies. Brother Hansen spoke on tolerance and love with Bishop Finlayson conducting and President Hassel presiding. Afterwards, back in the bus, we showed our prowess in counting off in about sixty seconds.

We drove back to the city center and ate lunch near the Kremlin in a neat cellar restaurant called Alki-Palki. We had pork shashlik and real rye bread. Andy Frederick looked up how to say "cheers" in the Russian phrase book and we toasted with our bottles of mineral water. Then we went on a guided tour through the inside of the Kremlin. We had a Russian guide and Nara translated for us. For artillery cannons, for bells, for buildings, and for boots, the operative word was BIG. The iconography in the Onspeusky Cathedral and the ostentatious gifts from various heads of state all were lavish. The displays in the "Armory" museum rivaled the guide’s stories for each outdoing the other—like having 150,000 dresses! But the impressive feature about the Kremlin might have been just the fact of being inside of it. Ten or fifteen years ago no one could ever go inside the Kremlin. And we all just paraded right through it.

In the evening we sang a concert at the fireside. It was one of the spiritual feasts of a lifetime. The young singers who sang with us from Moscow were sweet and very good. There were many members who came to hear us. It was standing room only. And they were all so grateful to have us and to hear us. The spirit was so strong it was palpable. Many of us were on the verge of tears all the way through—both singers and audience. And each time we looked at someone and saw how touched they were then we felt even that more touched ourselves. We stayed afterward for a very long time—who even knows how long—just thanking each other and rejoicing in the great outpouring of love which we all felt. We often pray for the spirit to be with us but this was just remarkable. I don’t know when I’ve ever felt so happy. These saints here in Moscow are precious. We were so blessed to have had this experience. And it made us all love each other and Judith that much the more for it.

We went back to our hotel for a late dinner with the Gypsy dancers’ party and got tickets for the opera "La Boheme" at the Bolshoi on Thursday. Then off to bed for a well-deserved rest.

— David L. Harrison

Day 4, September 25, 2000 Moscow

Today was a tourist day! We caught up on our sleep and arose to a nice leisurely breakfast here at the Hotel Rossia.

The weather was very cooperative and we were bathed in warm sunshine the whole day. First we visited a beautiful monastery that had a very rich Russian history. When we first entered there was an armed guard (AK-1—fully loaded) on duty just inside the gates. We mused that he was there to enforce the "No Videotaping Without Paying" rule. Of course I carried my videotape in, so I was worried, but nevertheless paid the 150 ruples ($7) for the privilege to videotape. In actuality, one of Russia’s earlier astronauts, Titov, had died and they were burying him on the monastery grounds with full military honors.

We ate a wonderful lunch at an Armenian restaurant. Our guide, Nara Sarkisian, is an Armenian immigrant and knew of the quality of the restaurant. We next toured the beautifully restored Cathedral of Christ the Savior—restored because Stalin demolished the original edifice in the 1930’s to make way for a proposed skyscraper that was to be an equal to the Empire State Building. The skyscraper was never built, and when communism fell in 1989, the Russian people collected the funds needed to rebuild the cathedral from the ground up. It has now been open several years. It is a magnificent structure and the artwork—frescos) is glorious on the inside. From floor to vaulted ceilings, every inch of wall space is filled with beautiful mural paintings. It has truly become a national treasure for the Russian people and a true place of worship for them. I admired the older people who were coming up to light candles and pay their respects to their national icons.

We returned to the hotel and proceeded to the subway station for a ride on the "MTA" (Moscow Transit Authority", formerly the Massachusetts Transit Authority of Kingston Trio fame). A slight mishap occurred as I was pick-pocketed of all my cash and other important items in my money pouch which I had failed to place around my waist. The ‘crunch’ was severe as I entered one of the cars and so was ‘easy pickings’ for the obvious professionals who lie in wait to vandalize others. The good news is no one was hurt and I was able to cancel the cards rather quickly. Unfortunately, Nara will have to go to a lot of work to get my return air ticket reissued. She felt terrible (as did the whole group) and was concerned that she had not forewarned me enough. I assured her it was my own stupidity and laziness which caused this incident. Many in the group have offered to help and I am truly thankful for their support and kindness. The "show" must and will go on. We are all here for the purpose of helping others and nothing will deter us, not even this episode which I will title "My Very Expensive First-Ever Subway Ride."

The remainder of the day and evening was spent touring a famous market street and dinner in Red Square. Can you imagine eating a pizza near to where Tanus and the military might of the former Soviet Union were so proudly displayed? It is a true miracle of modern times and one that I know was divinely directed. We pray for these wonderful people that will now move ahead with moral fortitude to carve a new and inspired destiny for themselves. The church is uniquely poised to help them in their spiritual quest and will be a factor for good in this nation.

— David Shipley

Day 5, September 26, 2000 Moscow—Voronezh

To paraphrase Tolstoy, all good night’s sleep are alike, but every bad night’s sleep is bad in its own way. At 4 AM some bizarre alarm went off next door and woke both Diana and me, and then continued to buzz interminably. Just as I’d concluded the people next door must be dead and I’d need to alert hotel security, the alarm ceased. So did any hope of more sleep. After two hours of lying in bed listening to distant phones ringing and astonishingly loud snoring (not from Diana), I gave up all pretense of trying to rest and got up to shower—sitting down, of course, in our creatively configured tub. It was at this point I discovered that our bathroom actually had towel warmers! Who knew?! I told Diana and she said she, too, had been surprised to find this convenience ("Something about the room didn’t scream ‘luxury’").

Breakfast was an unappetizing affair, since I’m afraid of foreign milk and I don’t believe in dinner food before noon, so I got my usual yogurt and juice and tried to ignore the faint smell of cigarette smoke and Kathryn and Elizabeth’s discussion of Beef Tartare. I think I’m just not a morning person.

After toting our luggage downstairs, which we had left outside the restaurant in the misguided hope that someone else was going to tote it, we made our way through the familiar maze of front doors to the bus. It’s worth noting here that I was the FIRST person on the bus, which should make up for the little incident at SFO that has been blown grossly out of proportion by some members of our group.

Lee Ashby offered a prayer and we made a gallant attempt to count off, then we were off for what was threatened to be a two hour ride but turned out to be more like a one hour ride to the airport. En route Kim and I discussed the dilemma of no interesting and motivated boys to date, then I tried to nap a bit while eavesdropping on Andy’s conversion story behind me and Kim’s advertising accounts beside me. Those conversations reminded me that I haven’t read my scriptures since we’ve been in Russia, and I need to make sure Sam Ashby reads the medieval ballads I assigned. All these fascinating musings were accompanied by images of men in tall fuzzy hats riding horses along this road last century. The left side of the road bordered a forest of birch trees that must be gorgeous when spindly and covered with snow.

At the airport the trademark Russian inefficiency kicked into high gear. First we were told to line up at counter 25, then we had to spread out to counters 26 and 27, then we had to give them "big" luggage, then Nara took our tickets (handed out 1/2 hour ago), then we had to weigh our carry-on's to make sure they weren’t "big" luggage, then we stood around some more until we found out that some people had been given green carry-on tags, while others were being rebuffed for attempting to get green carry-on tags. I hoisted one carry-on onto the scale and got a tag, but the woman behind the counter firmly said "NYET!" when I tried to give my other carry-on a chance. Fortunately Marsha took it up with her to check in and was more successful. Kim didn’t even get one bag tagged!

Meanwhile, amidst the confusion, Doug wandered off only to have our first documented encounter with the Russian mafia. He saw Laura Mabbott and Jen collide in the hallway, and then noticed a baggie of money—American and Russian—on the floor, and was going to pick it up, figuring it was one of theirs, when another man beat him to it. Doug asked if the bag was his, and apparently the man did not give a satisfactory reply, because Doug then said he thought it belonged to a friend of his and he wanted to take it. At this point, the man (we’ll call him Vronsky) suspiciously suggested that they split the money. Naturally Doug refused, insisting that they find the real owner, but Vronsky ushered him into a dark, smoky room filled with shifty-eyed men sporting ominous bulges in their coat pockets. Out of nowhere a large, threatening man (we’ll call him Ivan) appeared and demanded to see both Doug’s and Vronsky’s wallets. Vronsky pulled out a wad of $100 and $1000 bills (do they even make $1000 bills?!), and Doug realized that this wasn’t an acquaintance he wanted to prolong. Fortunately his imposing height and steely eyes allowed him to escape unchallenged, but there’s no doubt had he been made of weaker stuff he’d be in an alleyway dumpster right now.

Of course, my reaction was "Too bad you didn’t split the money when you had the chance!"

As it turned out, the money was neither girl’s, but it still would have come in handy because we found out that we needed to cough up an "overweight" fee to the airport, which (after much loud calculation) came out to 50 rubles a person. I’m assuming the "overweight" referred to the luggage and not the group.

Judging from what we’d seen so far at the airport, the Ashby kids and I figured we’d be required to flap our arms out the window to get the plane off the ground. Not far from the truth. My seat, which did not come with leg room, featured a window with a small HOLE in the bottom! There was FRESH AIR coming in next to me! No extravagant double-paned windows here. As an added comfort, Mike sat down next to me and launched into conversation with "My greatest fear is dying in an airplane crash." Mine is throwing up all over people I know. Looked like we were in for a fun flight.

The bumpy landing threatened to make my worst fear come true, but we all survived only to be confronted by one of the oddest encounters with Russian non-logic to date. We entered the totally deserted lobby to retrieve our luggage from the flight we entirely filled, only to be sternly rebuffed by the luggage lady (definitely a relic of the Communist regime). Apparently we had to produce all the baggage claim tickets to match the baggage, as though some group of imposters could otherwise come into the totally deserted airport posing as us, and whisk our luggage away from under our noses. The problem was most of us had no baggage claim tickets—for some reason unfathomable to the American mind, the claim tickets had been stapled en masse to two or three airline tickets, except for a few random ones sprinkled throughout the group. It took some doing to round up the claim tickets—about twelve were stapled by my airline ticket, which fortunately I had retrieved form the bus. Even with multiple checks through our carry-on's, we didn’t manage to find all of them—I think we were two short. I’m not sure how that drama panned out, since I became embroiled in another one: the bathroom. Elizabeth Ashby called out, "Miss Moore! Miss Moore! You’ve GOT to go into the bathroom and put it in the journal!" Mike generously donated the necessary two rubles for the cause of the journal, and I entered what looked like the reception room of a bad dentist in the late 60’s, except this had three dingy pink pedestal sinks and a view into the men’s section of the bathroom. The defeated-looking woman behind the desk took my five ruble coin, sighed heavily, and left the room to find change. Eventually she returned with three rubles and nodded in resignation when I asked for two small strips of thin toilet paper instead of one (!). The bathroom itself was a stunner. It was decorated like a rejected lobby design for the set of "The Love Boat," complete with plants that had been around since the 70’s, artfully arranged on chipped white wrought iron plant stands. I kept expecting to hear, "Captain Stubing, please report to the Promenade Deck." Hanging from the ceiling were faux Chinese lanterns done in bold yellow and white stripes. But nothing in the horror of the decor could match the horror of the stalls, which were—gasp!—squatters. I kid you not. And not just any squatters—these were unusually wide and had deep ribbing where I assume you were supposed to put your feet, and no discernable means of flushing. The floor was indescribable. In fact, the whole experience brought back painful memories of my time in Thailand, and I wondered if the cause of the journal was really that important. Suffice to say it was not for the faint of heart or weak of thighs.

Back on the bus we had the joy of Svetlana to remind us why we came to Russia. Trudy had thoughtfully bought flowers for Judith to give to Svetlana at the airport, and that sweet, wonderful woman had brought a huge bouquet for Judith! They embraced like long-lost sisters and everyone took pictures even though the flowers nearly covered both of them. "Dear friends," Svetlana said into the mike as soon as the bus was rolling, "I vant to tell you some history of Voronezh, but I think youah are tired and would like to first rest." It took only a split second of protests for her to say happily, "All right, I vill giveah you history of Voronezh!" The highlight of their history was that as a naval base for Peter the Great, Voronezh had a huge population of soldiers, who naturally needed women. So they brought in all the most beautiful women in Russia for the soldiers, and that is why the women of Voronezh are the most beautiful in Russia. "But you know," Svetlana laughed, "this is only legend!"

Also meeting us at the airport was Tanya, a cute young woman who had worked as a translator for the Lindsays. She had volunteered to accompany us during our stay and act as translator. Right off the bat she bore her testimony and sang to us—so sweet!

Our hotel—Hotel "Don," as in Mafia—is the nicest one in the city. It’s where the presidents and prime ministers stay when they visit. You’d never guess this from the light fixtures in the lobby. However, when I was escorted up to Room 201, Diana having preceded me, I was greeted by a long room that turned out to be our entry hall! For some reason we scored the Presidential Suite, complete with living room, parlor (with a lovely inlaid wood writing desk), huge bedroom, two bathrooms, and a balcony! I was so excited I nearly squealed! Well, to be truthful, we both squealed a bit. I immediately had visions of post-concert receptions. After touring our rooms, Kim said, "It figures that you two would get the Diva Suite!" I’m sure I don’t know what she means by that, but I’m all for large suites with red velvet draperies.

After a brief bag lunch, provided by either the ward or Svetlana—I never did get that clear—we met everyone on the bus and headed toward the Military Hospital to deliver the medical equipment Judith had managed to procure. The whole staff was either out front waiting for us or pressed against the windows waving—what a welcome! There was even some man filming! Judith presented the chief of staff—I assume—with the bronchioscope amidst applause and pictures, and some of the men began unloading the van and sorting the boxes. The hospital staff were so gracious and grateful! About half the group were ushered into some office with a washroom, and after everyone had washed his hands (for some reason), Judith was placed at the desk of the hospital president to sign the necessary paperwork for our donations. She needed two other signatures so she had Drs. Norris and Lewis come up—it all looked so dignified and official! Hard to believe that one of our major goals of the trip has come to pass. After the document signing, we joined the rest of the group in the auditorium for a more formal thank-you ceremony. The head of neurology spoke to us about the help the Lindsays had given several MS patients, and how desperately these people needed assistance. In Russia, the disabled receive $12 a month from the government, which isn’t enough to live on, let alone to pay for medication. Treatment is out of the question. I couldn’t help thinking how amazingly fortunate our family is to have the means to provide my mother with good care. I had to concentrate to keep from crying, thinking of someone in my mother’s condition not having access to a wheelchair or medicine and the pain it would cause both the patient and the family. MS is difficult enough with good medical care, good home care, a legion of loving friends, and the gospel’s perspective and strength; I can’t fathom the suffering of those who have none of those blessings. Life is so grossly unfair. I know now why Judith said she knew we needed to come here.

All the presenters were so grateful and Judith gave a beautiful response, saying she owed the credit to all those who came with her. Doug leaned over and said, "Yeah—she did 99% and we did 1%!" After the speeches and thank-you’s, we gathered at the front to sing "Precious Lord." What an amazing experience to see in part the difference people can make in others’ lives with a little effort! The hospital staff mentioned our church several times and referenced the goodness of God. I was so humbled knowing that I’ve been blessed disproportionately and now I was being thanked disproportionately!

The surprise dinner they fed us lasted longer than we could afford, but who could turn down such generosity? (I did turn down the cucumber salad by getting Sam to eat it for me, but he drew the line at the chicken fried steak) Svetlana said the hospital staff had brought this together "from their hearts," and I think we all were overwhelmed.

After a rather frantic bus ride during which many of the women skillfully changed into choir attire without flashing the men, we arrived at the branch building on a beautiful old tree-lined street. We started the fireside 45 minutes late, and between that, the stiflingly hot room, and the out-of-tune clunker of a piano, I didn’t think this evening could come close to our last fireside in Moscow. But the Spirit was so strong and the love of the people so evident that I lost it on "Redeemer of Israel" and couldn’t even mouth the words. When we sang "I know He is coming to gather His sheep, and lead them to Zion in love," and I looked into the shining faces of those beloved members of the tribe of Dan who have been gathered to Zion through the faith and prayers of so many people, I can hardly believe I am so blessed to witness this miracle. Each time we sang "Come, Come Ye Saints" tonight and when we sang it in Moscow, I could see sheer joy on the audience’s faces, and I felt as though I were in the presence of the early saints. How fortunate we are to see history in the making! The opening of Russia to missionaries was such joyous news, and here in front of us, mouthing the words to "Come, Come Ye Saints," were the pioneers of Russia! Those sweet precious people had tears in their eyes nearly the whole time, and as I sang "I am a child of God" some positively beamed. I could feel the joy that the knowledge of our brotherhood and sisterhood brings like I’ve never felt it before. Such a choice blessing we had to be able to commune spiritually with our brothers and sisters and share their love for the gospel and love for us. The testimonies that were shared after our second concert (which I think went a bit better because of the substitution of both "For the Beauty of the Earth" for "Great Lone Hills" and Diana’s solo for mine) were as touching as they were unexpected. One person after another stood and shared his or her testimony of the gospel and of Christ, and thanked us for coming all this way to see them and share our love with them. Again, being thanked for something that was actually a blessing was quite humbling. I think we all felt that this evening alone was worth the whole trip. I truly hope that no prosperity we enjoy and no adversity they suffer will ever, ever move us from the love of the Lord.

Between firesides, we presented the Young Women with the boxes prepared by the Los Altos Ward. The girls gathered around and squealed the same way they do in America— even the Young Women’s President could be spotted a mile away! More evidence that the Gospel is the same all over the world....

Once again, we were overwhelmed by the generosity of the members when we saw the feast they had prepared for us after the firesides—way too much! Two rooms with long tables laden with all sorts of Russian dishes! My table had the bright idea of recruiting the missionaries to take plates home; eventually we had to get them to round up members to take plates home. Mercifully nobody burst on the way back to the hotel.

After our visitors to the Diva Suite had left and we had figured out how to get warm water, Diana went to bed armed with multiple blankets, and I retired to the writing desk. The warmth from basking in the Spirit has kept me going even in this 10š room.

MY TOP TEN BEST MEMORIES OF THE DAY

10. Singing "Happy Birthday" to Margrethe
9. Seeing how many chiefs per Indians there were unloading the bus
8. Craig J.’s expression describing the piano
7. Liz Ashby’ getting mad at Lee for saying her number during countdown
6. The Presidential Suite
5. Dave Shipley’s losing his pants, of all things (what next?!)
4. Harv’s getting a hug, a kiss, and a marriage proposal—that sly fox!
3. "Dear Friends"
2. Watching Judith kill a spider above our china cabinet with a bouquet of flowers
1. Watching Svetlana catch Judith as she jumped down from killing the spider

And maybe the best of all: Being hugged and kissed by a sweet woman who smiled and wept through the fireside!

— Laura Moore

Day 6, September 27, 2000 Voronezh

Sunrise in Voronezh was uplifting. Autumn was in the air, with steam rising from the river and people coming on the streets for their trek to work.

After changing money, paying for rooms and loading the bus at 10 am, we were off to the orphanage/hospital. The hospital holds 800 children, 650 doctors and 500 nurses. Part of the hospital is dedicated to surgery and the other to infectious diseases. Apparently their infectious disease unit is the best in the region. The hospital takes in rich, poor, orphans and refugees. A ceremony of sorts where the boxes were "presented" as gifts included speeches from a hospital representative and Judith. We then were herded into a room where some of the children performed a skit for "safety." Apparently today is a holiday for the safety movement? Can’t think of a comparable US holiday. Four children and then their teacher read speeches about safety in Russian. Afterwards we distributed gifts to the children in the audience. It was exciting to see the smiles on their faces as they played with the finger puppets, dolls and cars. We then sang two songs for them, an impromptu round of "Frere Jacques" followed by "I Am a Child of God." We next moved into the surgical wing of the hospital. We had to wait for several minutes at the elevators since only a few could fit at a time. The elevators were very noisy and dark and we wondered how often people got trapped in them.

We visited several children’s rooms and left gifts with them. Many of the children were smiling and waving to us from their beds as we walked by. Some of them had their arms or legs in traction. The equipment seemed quite old, but the rooms were bright and sunny and we felt very welcomed there.

We left this part of the hospital and walked down a beautiful tree-lined road. The air was crisp and the leaves showed early signs of autumn. As we were walking we came across a father trying to carry his son who had a lame leg. Judith offered help from our group since the father looked very tired. After their initial refusals, they finally agreed to let the Brown brothers carry the son. They carried him the rest of the way to the entrance to the hospital and the family seemed very grateful.

As we re-entered the main part of the hospital there was a bit of confusion as to where we should go. (but there was often confusion about what we were doing. . . . ) And then we heard the familiar words, "Dear friends, if you please, come to join with us for the lunch!" Yes, it was time to enjoy the hospitality and love from our new friends. They had prepared a delicious buffet of mashed potatoes (better than Idaho), sweet crepes, fruit, chicken, breads, cheese, and of course chocolate! "Very fresh, must eat, everyone must eat lots of food!"

Our guests thanked us again for coming, asked us to return again and bid us a fond farewell. We then boarded the bus and had our usual difficulties in counting to 40 (a few of the "Choir Nazis" helped the process along . . .).

Next we visited a memorial to the great patriotic war, WWII, a haunting black, massive sculpture surrounded by a beautiful garden. The monument was built to represent the Russian people uniting to fight against the Fascists. Our "Dear Friend" Svetlana told stories of how 96% of the city was destroyed in the war. We drove past the ruins of a children’s hospital that had been bombed as Svetlana described the terrible tragedies of the war.

After a brief stop at the hotel to retrieve forgotten music folders, another attempt at counting to 40, and we were off to the concert hall to rehearse for tonight’s concert with the Voronezh University Choir.

The rehearsal began with a lively warm-up were we made sounds that Judith had never dreamed up! We quickly found that although we spoke different languages, we had no problems communicating in the universal language of music. Our choirs blended wonderfully and we discovered a new appreciation for the Rachmaninof "Vespers" which sounded nothing less than angelic. Our friend Tanya from the church helped both directors convey their directions to the combined chorus.

The concert hall wasn’t large, but produced a nice sound. It was decorated with red chairs, walls and one black piano and one red one as well. Black and red. . . .very patriotic.

The concert, as the week, was filled with behind the scenes issues, the spirit of giving, and the hearts of all people trying to join to create a common bond. Behind the scenes there was jockeying for changes/additions to the program The spirit of giving manifest itself when the choirs’ members stood together and blended voices. The hearts joined when members of the audience showed enthusiastic appreciation for numbers they could not understand but loved because we gave our songs as a gift. One of the sweetest moments occurred after Dave Shipley sang his solo "Bring Him Home." An obviously poor Russian elderly woman came up and handed him a bouquet of home grown flowers—the widow and her mite. Loud applause erupted when the extremely talented Craig Jorgensen played a lively duet with Diana Petersen. Audience zeal was most apparent during our livelier numbers as well, including "Dry Bones," "And the Father Will Dance," and "Climb Every Mountain." Laurie Moore’s voice/solo was exquisite—a show stopper. Children from the orphanage/hospital came to the concert in droves and sat on the aisle steps until directed to fill the left side of the theatre midway through the concert. Darling!

After the main concert there were a number of people who spoke. First people from the hospital expressed their appreciation again, then a woman who represents the mothers of soldiers fighting in Chechnya gave her thanks. We think she came from the Veterans Hospital. The director of the clinic of the hospital of deaf children also spoke of appreciation for this help which started with the Lindsays. The audience left and then the University Choir sang for us. Angels’ voices and perfect cut-off’s—they are the "tighter" choir. Excellent!

True to form, after the concert we were taken to a restaurant near our hotel and fed! Salads, steak and eggs, French fries and ice-cream. Great for a bedtime snack. At the close of supper, Mike Brown stood up and made the announcement that the choir was going to sponsor Svetlana a trip to America. We are going to try to get her there for our October fireside. She stood up to give her thanks to us, again, for all we have done. It appears she doesn’t really "get" the concept that we could pay for her way to America. Dreams are hard to turn into reality sometimes, I suppose.

In conclusion, here is a quiz: Whose Line Is It? (in other words, who said the following infamous lines . . .)

Dear Friends
Copies people, copies!
Hit the Gypsies
People, we’re counting
Hello, my name is the Branch President
I’m going to part the waters now . . .
Judith, a word please!
Does everybody have their music?
If everybody could take their seats . . .
The Browns are here so we can leave

Special thanks to:

Nara. Enough said . . .
Craig Jorgensen for not walking out on us during rehearsal in Voronezh
Julie and Scott for their language and navigational skills
Diana Petersen for many entertaining conversations
Harv West for giving the Russian women a thrill
Marilyn Metz for her secret agent attire
Chris and Cindy Hansen for their never-ending smiles
The Brimhalls for their suitcase of treats
Mary Finlayson for her special sound effects
Marsha, Marsha, Marsha . . .
Doug Cunningham for singing the bass parts in Mike Brown’s ear
Andy for getting the first stamp in his passport
Jennifer for not bringing her husband on the trip
To all the "non-singers" for trying to stay awake through all of our concerts
Judith for making all of the above and more possible.

— Laura Mabbott and Craig Brown

*By the end of the day word had gotten around that Svetlana had paid for both the petrol for the bus and our final dinner out of her own pocket. She had worked all summer to earn the money to help make our time here go smoothly—the money we had sent ahead of time hadn’t been enough to cover all expenses. During dinner Diana asked Svetlana how she could afford to manage her household in such difficult times, and Svetlana admitted to having bought her jacket and skirt at a second hand clothing store out of the funds we had sent in order to look nice as she hosted us in Voronezh. The organization of charities she works for doesn’t have any funds to help her. To help offset these expenses, we (Chris Hansen) organized a collection. $500 was gathered to give to our "Dear Friend" upon our departure, $200 was collected to give to Tanya (which turned out to be the amount she needed for her year’s tuition), and $100 was collected to give our sweet helper Oleg, who had also donated his time to come with us around Voronezh and help whenever possible. .

Day 7, September 28, 2000 Voronezh—Moscow

After the warmth of the concert and joy of a final Voronezh meal, and the chill of hotel rooms, we rose early. Breaths were evident as we loaded and boarded the bus. The count was quick and effective. Only the trusted Svetlana and Tanya were delayed. Svetlana told of the "alarm in the bucket" and confessed to her dear friends that she had overslept.

In joy, we sang "I Am a Child of God" as the frosted fields passed by. Tanya expressed her thanks and sang her own words to a popular song. All enjoyed the wonderful sweet pears so lovingly given at the concert, and graciously washed by one of us.

The airport was the same: little activity except the bustle of the ticketing and weighing, with an hour’s queue for conversation, personal good-byes with sweet Svetlana, effervescent Tanya, earnest Oleg, and Nikolai (he of warm heart who will read the Book of Mormon and embrace it, I hope).

What was different about the airport, though, was a moment for reflection about Voronezh, with forty hours’ perspective:

warm hearts
joy tempered by concern
guides emerging with familiarity, and hugs and embraces not far behind
a basic purity and industry
old streets and vehicles
streets washed, not often
corn, wheat, barley harvested
birch forests
love of success and tradition for ideals
desire to overcome plight
few tools and infrastructure to make it happen
a love of life, family, and high culture
hope, hope, hope
a chance to see the sunrise in the East, with hope on a clear, chill morn that Voronezh will rise, clear, clean, and successful

Thanks to Pratt & Whitney engines, lovely Swedish ambiance, and steady Russian hands at the helm, the return to Domo was lovely.

While we waited on the runway, Chris Hansen explained the gift to Svetlana—the "petroleum money" so richly deserved and freely given, with thanks. We were touched by Tanya’s expression of gratitude for our largess, which she saw as a clear response to her renewed and diligent efforts to read the Book of Mormon (some might also think it is because she helped so much in so many ways). May the Lord continue to bless and keep them, for in doing unto us, the least, they have done unto Him and become the greater. We needed their examples far more than they needed to hear and receive from us!

And so we left Voronezh, at the confluence of the great Don, the Voronezh, and another great river, we return to Moscow and beyond.

Domo was under brilliant sun, crisp and active. The bagels (thanks, Mary Jo, for the idea) were tasty, and the ride through forests of birch and high rise apartments brought us back from the fertile black earth of Voronezh. We showed independence (Doug suggested to Nara that we claim our own bags).

Directly to the Tretyakov Gallery, we saw the brightest day yet in Moscow. We were treated to a two group tour of this largest exhibition of Russian art—assembled by P (whose interest was Russian art, and whose brother Sergei accumulated other art which now comprises some of the Pushkin Museum treasures.

Although a short visit, we saw enough to know that another longer time may bed needed to savor the full Russian experience through its art and artists. Sweeping by the icons of the three great early periods (1300’s, early 1500’s, and 15th-16th centuries) was fascinating exposure to the use of natural colors (and a few mosaics in Italian/Greek tradition) in honor of the Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost (and frequently Mary)—the only hope of many during ages darkened by strife, poverty, servitude, and despair.

We saw enough, through Shiskin landscapes, Repin portraits, and famous Volga scenes, and GE portraits, to sense the Russian people and history and to want to know more.

Then another Armenian luncheon, with lovely borscht (beet/tomato/onion based) and charm.

With a quick shopping stop, we concluded the Moscow sights with Red Square and a good La Boheme with a young troupe in the magnificent Bolshoi Theatre.

Then to the Moscow station for the pleasant overnight to St. Petersburg. (We suggested a slower pace in train terminals to assure all are together)

A lovely day, full and bright, with rich experiences for all.

— Dave Ellison

Day 8, September 9, 2000 St. Petersburg

We the Valparaiso Singers, having arrived in St, Petersburg, and having seen many afflicted faces departing from the train this morning, nevertheless having checked into our hotel and being able to refresh, yea, we proceed to make an account of our proceedings during the course of our time in St. Petersburg.

And I make the record in the language which I choose which will vary according to the vernacular of the various group members being comprised of quotes and descriptions thereof.

Our hotel was situated on the beautiful Neva river which runs through the center of St. Petersburg. According to Nara, this city is great for its history, not for its present, as it has not been as well kept as Moscow. We took off for breakfast at 9:30 leaving some members at the hotel (we didn’t engage in our infamous countdown). The bus returned to retrieve our stray members while the rest of us gorged ourselves. Diana loved the porridge so much she finished Margrethe’s as well as her own. Yea, we did feast on the good things of the Lord—bread, cheese, cookies, salami, sweet porridge with warm milk and three fried eggs (with lots of butter). I think this was the best meal so far.

Believe it or not, we all made it on the bus to the Hermitage. Apparently some of us didn’t get enough to eat for breakfast—we passed around bags and collected all the cookies from the table for a snack later. We left no plate unturned as we collected cheese, salami, bread, and anything else that was not attached. Mike Brown suggested we pass a bag around for the silverware, but that didn’t fly.

Off to the Hermitage, an amazing building with a rich history and an incredible art collection. We split into two groups and had guided tours. Some of the amazing things we noticed were the intricate wood floors and the diversity and delicacy of the ceilings. The Hermitage is four buildings. The first was built by Catherine the Great. Other leaders added on buildings and they have since been connected. The building consisted of three floors. The third floor was for the servants. At the entrance was a room dedicated to Peter the Great, even though the building was built after Peter’s death.

We also saw rooms where the royals lived. Craig Jorgensen found a room with amazing acoustics that he vowed to sketch when he got back to the bus and create in his home.

Nicolas II, the last Czar, was the last to live in the Hermitage (the Winter Palace).The experience and the sights were indescribable. The group definitely enjoyed the exploration.

Back on the bus to enjoy our feast of cookies, bread, salami, etc., that we swiped from the morning’s breakfast. And, of course, the Brimhalls, our treat Gurus, came through for us again with gum.

On the bus ride we learned about Misha, our bus driver, as well as some history of St. Petersburg. The fall colors on the trees were absolutely beautiful—bright oranges and yellows. The area we headed to was Peterhoff, a German name for Peter the Great’s Palace. We passed several palaces of wealthy families—all of whom lost their estates after the revolution.

The magnificent palace of Peter the Great was completely destroyed during "the great patriotic war" (WWII) except for the beach front property which we toured wearing "Peter the Great Booties" from the "booty collection." The inside of the palace had been ripped out during the war. Our adorable tour guide told us about the "punishments" inflicted by "Peter the Great Dentist."

We also learned that none of us was brave enough to test our righteousness by walking under the "umbrella." However, Mike demonstrated his inability to follow directions exactly and caused many to get wet. He should be punished . . .

The amazing palace situated on the Finnish Gulf had incredibly picturesque gardens—except for that checkerboard fountain (where East met West and shouldn’t have). The most interesting part of the excursion was watching people do their bargain shopping. Some got better bargains than others. Marilyn Metz, when asked what was in her bag of goodies, said, "I’m not really sure." Once on the bus, the biggest hit was Elizabeth’s pecking chickens.

Back tot he same spot for dinner, ice cream, singing—some of us even danced! (okay, we didn’t sing—but someone did).

And thus I end my epistle of our time in St. Petersburg. And yea, we did enjoy ourselves and behold and lo, we did all exclaim with one heart that St. Petersburg was yet a beautiful place. And we began to realize that our time was short. Nevertheless and notwithstanding our sadness in having to prepare to leave, our hearts did rejoice in that fact that we would soon enjoy the comforts of American bathrooms.

— Jen Boyer

Day 9, September 30, 2000 St. Petersburg—Moscow

This has been the loveliest sleeping/bathroom experience yet: hot water, warm beds, toilets with seats and toilet paper! You would think the condition of the toilets would not be the first news of the day but—hey! we are so thankful for these small comforts in this country.

We breakfasted for the second morning in a row at our favorite Mafioso restaurant. We have decided it is a Mafia restaurant because it has a throne room of a restroom, snazzy interior decor, and a svelte young singer for evening entertainment. Fortunately the singer didn’t join us for breakfast, as our ears were still ringing from the prior evening’s performance. This trip has had an ongoing theme of concern regarding availability and condition of sanitary facilities, as both are in short supply. The restaurant also had a series of security cameras on the outside. Kathryn and Elizabeth entertained Liz Ashby with an impromptu song and dance routine in one of them. We loved the Mafia restaurant—they fed us hot, creamy oatmeal in addition to the standard fare of cheese and salami. They must have thought us very odd—we didn’t leave a scrap of food on any of the tables, collecting the food in plastic bags to ward off future hunger. We have definitely acclimated to at least some Russian cuisine. We complained about our first Russian breakfast of salami and cheese on Aeroflot, but now we happily wolf it down. Who knows where we’ll find our next meal . . .

Then it was off to visit St. Isaac’s cathedral by bus. Unfortunately—and I must say, uncharacteristically of us—we were too early. So we instead drove to the monument of Peter the Great commissioned by Catherine the Great (her name appears on the base as "second only to Peter" . . .well. it is to be inferred, anyway). We enjoyed the New Orleans style jazz trio who played for us as we disembarked. Later, our take-charge Ambassador of Good Will, Dave Ellison, took a moment to greet them and thank them personally for their serenade. They were not as clever as the two musicians at Peterhoff who played "The Star Spangled Banner" and "America the Beautiful" for us. Man, did they clean up on the tips.

Next we shopped some more. We’re not a very cultured crew—shopping consistently outranks other activities on our preferred "to do" list. Unfortunately, one becomes the best, most experienced shopper just as one leaves the country, so we did our best to compensate for limited time.

Following shopping, we took a river cruise of St. Petersburg, an amazing experience. We felt that we were in the Venice of the far north (after Amsterdam, of course). We also admired the twenty-odd palaces Catharine the Great built for her various lovers. Fortunately, we had Mariner Andy in his authentic Russian navy hat to ward off potential attackers.

After picking up Scott and Julie (who consistently ditched us for their self-guided tours, this time of a naval marching unit), we looped back to St. Isaac’s cathedral. St. Isaac was the saint on whose day Czar Alexander was born, so, of course, that warranted this huge cathedral to be built boasting 114 marble columns and fourteen different types of marble inlay. Even more impressive were the ten foot tall mosaics, one of which took five artists seven years to create. However, some of us (not to mention names, Diana and Laura Moore*) were even more impressed with the local vendors. We finally boarded the bus to Vyborg, the last outpost before Finland, at 2:00. Oh wait—before leaving St. Isaac’s, we asked permission of our tour guide to sing. We were eight bars into "Precious Lord" when we were shushed by the cathedral police. I guess it’s more like a museum than church these days. I also forgot that on our way out of town we passed by the house where Tchaikovsky lived and died in 1840.

*Diana’s & Laura’s rebuttals: Oh yeah? But we were the only ones back to the bus on time! "Be back at 12:45—that doesn’t mean 1:00, that doesn’t mean 1:15!" Too bad Ralph didn’t specify it didn’t mean 1:30 either, since that’s when you all showed up! We headed for Vyborg, a two-hour bus ride from St. Petersburg, where we gave a concert as part of a fireside commemorating the 10th anniversary of the reopening of Russian missions. En route, Nara shared her very powerful conversion story of meeting members of the Church on a humanitarian mission to Armenia and how they influenced her by their example of Christ. Her mother and sister both noted that Mormons seemed to have a glow about them. At the chapel, we asked an elder why the Church had started in Vyborg, the far western edge of the Russian border. He replied that a Finnish sister had crossed the border to teach people about the gospel and that that was the beginning of the modern-day Church in Russia. The members were appreciative (especially of "Dry Bones," which always brings down the house), but not quite so overwhelmed as the members in Voronezh. However, Misha, our trusty bus driver (who on a hunch had scoured the streets of St. Petersberg last night until 2 AM to find sufficient gas for us—sure enough, the gas crisis hit this morning), said he sat in the back of the chapel and cried. He doesn’t know how to identify the Spirit, but we understood, and we signed his Book of Mormon in hopes that he will want to learn more about feelings of the Spirit. Russia needs living bread and water as well as the mortal stuff if ever she is fully to emerge from her current troubles. The chapel at Vyborg is lovely—interesting to compare the unadorned quiet of LDS chapels to the wealth and bustle of the great public cathedrals. I am sure that earnest worship occurs in each, and I hope that the truths contained in the latter will help rather than hinder Russians in seizing the truths contained in the former. (We also note that LDS chapels have some of the cleanest bathrooms in Russia!)

On our way back to the St. Petersburg train station tragedy struck. Because we were arriving an hour and a half before our train to Moscow was to depart, it was decided that a short trip to the luxury foods shop would be fun. Not such a good plan, as it turned out, because as Audrie and Elaine were rushing to join the rest of the chocolate-buyers, they mis-stepped off the curb and fell into the street. Audrie’s injury, though painful, was not serious and she boarded the bus again. Elaine Bingham, however, was checked by our own Doctor Norris and Nurse Sally and it was determined that her hip was most likely fractured. She and Frank, accompanied by Nara, had to leave us by ambulance (which arrived only after being involved in a crash right next to our bus) for the nearest hospital. I don’t envy her having medical trouble in any foreign land, and especially in Russia. As we learned form our two hospital visits on this trip, the medical community does not enjoy the funding that we do in the States. But I am sure that the mission president will assist in getting the best care for her, and the Lord will surely hear our prayers for her.

Leaving Nara and the Binghams behind, we made a mad dash for the train, which was only a few blocks away. Despite our sympathy for Elaine, most of us could be of no use to her. Our hearts have begun to turn towards family and home, so we raced to make our train back to Moscow. Audrie rode to the train in style, perched on three suitcases on a porter’s cart. Trudy, Marilyn, Elizabeth, and Kathryn found themselves in a car away from the rest of the group, with a bunch of ogly Russian males in between. (If we hadn’t been offended by the blatant stares, we might have been flattered, but these men were a little too undiscriminating). Mike and Craig kindly swapped places with Trudy and Marilyn in hopes of preventing unfortunate occurrences (success so far!). Jen Boyer nearly caused some Russian coronaries when she traipsed down the hall in her blue satin jammies, but we hope she made it back to her car unscathed. One last night, and we complete our sojourn in Russia!

We would like to thank:

Judith and Mary Jo for swiping all the leftovers from breakfast (very good bag ladies)
Mike and Craig Brown for causing all teenage girls within a 10 mile radius of our concerts to swoon, much to our amusement
Kathryn and Elizabeth for being man enough to hit those low E’s for the second tenors
Andy and Dave Shipley for sharing their—oh my gosh—chocolate
Chris for gathering tips for our helpers (wait, did anyone actually see him deliver them??)
Ralph for serving as a music stand and all-around good guy
Norris for keeping our souls prayed for
Sam for his understated comic relief
Kim and Diana for their Andrew Lloyd Webber beautiful blend
Lynn and Arthur who accomplished the impossible feat of rescuing Liz’s money pouch
the people of Voronezh for their testimonies, their translators, and their huge feast
Tanya for keeping us in stitches about "boys with nothing upstairs"
Julie for her hugs
Nara for her conversion story

— Kathryn Latour & Elizabeth Harmer-Dionne

Day 10, October 1, 2000 Moscow—home

The scene 10,000 meters below us is breathtaking and serene—the glassy darkness of the ocean with its dollops of snowy land—but it is hard not to feel a poignant pang as it means the close of our Russian adventure. The last ten days have been so rich and full that it feels strange to be returning to the daily routing of life back home. Who would have thought that we would fall in love so quickly, that this vast, often bewildering foreign land would become the home of our "Dear Friends"? Who would have guessed that despite the grandeur of the Winter Palace, the excitement of Red Square, and the stunning treasures of the Kremlin, our richest memories would be from a tiny rented chapel in the unfrequented town of Voronezh? Those memories might even outweigh the several tons of matruska dolls and fur hats we are shlepping home with us.

Our last day in Russia made us realize how lucky we had been to have Nara for the rest of the trip. Nara had gone last night with Frank and Elaine to the hospital. No doubt their need was greater, but we suddenly shepherdless sheep did definitely feel her absence. Fortunately, her terrific family stepped in. Her mother helped us navigate the train station, and even explained to us the "sheet tax"—24 rubles for using the bedding in our cabins. (At this point most of us were so overwhelmed that we would have paid any arbitrary amount demanded in an official enough sounding Russian voice!) This morning Nara’s brother helped Jen Boyer run through endless lines of train cars looking for Frank Bingham’s garment bag while we waited on the bus. They were successful, which is a feat made even more remarkable by Jen’s fashionable wedge sandals, which were not designed for racing along Moscow train platforms!

Nara’s mother had planned to take us for breakfast at a place called (as the word was circulated through the group) Magdalen’s, where she assured us we could get a variety of food quickly. Jen’s quest put this breakfast in jeopardy, but we minded far less when we realized that "Magdalen’s" was McDonalds. Instead, we feasted on yogurt and rolls which Judith acquired from a little shop by the station, cleaning out its entire supply to feed the voracious Valparaisos.

Meanwhile, we tried frantically to make the cell phone work because several tickets turned out to be missing. We found out that Nara was unreachable—she was on a plane from St. Petersburg with Frank and Elaine. We didn’t feel quite capable of standing up to Aeroflot without her, so we said a heartfelt prayer, after which the tickets did show up, so we didn’t have to abandon Diana and Marilyn after all! We made it successfully to the airport and inched our way through line after line. The customs man was suspicious that Laura Moore had spent all her cash, and had nothing on her except some Turkish money (?!), and Aeroflot had somehow reassigned all the seats Nara had so carefully reserved for us up front (the best laid plans of mice and Valpies . . .), so our progress was slow. But the real kicker hit when they discovered that Elizabeth Harmer-Dion’s visa had been lost by the airline in Voronezh. She had photocopies and was willing to pay the fine, but for some incomprehensible reason they wouldn’t let her leave the country until she could prove she was allowed to be there in the first place, and nothing—not logic, not pleading, not even Andy’s official-looking navy hat—could convince them to deport her back to America. With sorrow and trepidation, we had to leave her there. She was in the company of a very kind and competent American Christian missionary, so we hope they will work out the paperwork for her to leave tomorrow morning. In the meantime, we hope she enjoys her extra day in Moscow and doesn’t have to spend the whole time arguing with customs officers.

Frank and Elaine will follow us on a Swiss Air flight that will allow her to lie fully horizontal. Norris’s curbside diagnosis proved accurate—her hip is indeed fractured so she couldn’t possibly sit up for a 15-hour flight. They are being very brave in the face of a nightmare, and we trust everything will work out for them. Audrie West is handling her own injury with characteristic good grace. Sally bound up the sprained ankle with an ace bandage and Audrey rode on baggage carts with the poise of a queen and the smile of a saint. Harv survived the seemingly endless walks—and they were both rewarded for their stalwart efforts by an upgrade to business class. (How Sam Ashby managed to rate his kingly seat in first class is left as an exercise for the reader)

All in all we depart, not quite unscathed, but with memories sweet enough to make up for the chaos of the last twenty-four hours (of course, for me with my unbroken hip, unsprained ankle, and unlost visa, that’s easy to say). This was an unforgettable week. I can only speak for myself here, but perhaps others will agree. I have been a tourist in many cities, have seen many splendid palaces, impressive landscapes, and magnificent works of art. But this trip to Russia has a glory beyond all the sights we enjoyed—I will never forget the way the Spirit witnessed through music and joined us together in love. We know there is a place where language and geography and ideology and economics are no longer barriers. We got a glimpse of that place on this trip. Thank you all, dear friends.

— Julie Sheffield

— Postscript —

We are on the plane from Seattle to SFO—last leg. Everyone seems to be in a mellow and thoughtful mood. We have learned that Elizabeth and Nara have made contact and have two hotel rooms, waiting for tomorrow’s try for a new visa (office closed today—Sunday), and that Nara will stay as necessary to arrange for Elaine’s trip home, which has not yet been scheduled. Each person seems to have a favorite special memory. I am impressed by the amount of good will in each traveler among our group and the willingness to overlook the small irritations and personality quirks that are inevitable in a group of this size. We know each other pretty well now, and I can’t look at or think of any one of us without feeling a surge of love for him or her. I guess that is God’s gift to me—the reward of this trip!

— Norris Finlayson

Wendy & Rick Marden have enjoyed your companionship for this trip and wished we had more time to get to know each of you personally. "May the Lord bless you and keep you,"

— Rick & Wendy