Things I Love Thursdays: Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere

When I found out I was going to Istanbul for work training, and that I'd have a good five or six hours of airplane time in each direction (without Jack!), I was super excited. I'd bring my laptop on the plane with me, and I'd WRITE! Uninterrupted, for hours on end! It was going to be glorious.

Then the time came, and guess what? I didn't open my laptop once. It wasn't that I didn't want to write. It was that by the time I was actually allowed to turn on an electronic device, drinks were being served. Then the horrendous meal had to be served, and trays cleared. That left about forty minutes of free time before it was time to turn the laptop off again. And if you're a writer, you know that it can sometimes take forty minutes just to get into it. This wasn't revising or delving into a section of a book that was already well planned in my head. This was trying to draft a brand new project. And with someone sitting uncomfortably close to me and usually hogging the armrest, and the person in front of my reclining right into my air space, writing was just not feasible. So I read. A lot.

In five days I read two and a half books, something that usually takes at least a month these days. It helped that the books were all good, of course, but my favorite by far was Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere. I selected it on my Kindle on a whim, but I love Neil Gaiman, and the price was right, so I figured I'd give it a shot. And I loved it. Maybe it's because it was the perfect book for me as a writer right now - a parallel world fantasy novel with a healthy dollop of sarcasm, wit, and adventure - or maybe it's just because it was wonderfully creative and, well, Gaiman-y. But I can't recommend it enough.

Neverwhere was created as a companion to the television miniseries of the same name (both came out in 1996). There also happens to be an audio miniseries coming out in two days from BBC Radio 4 starring James McAvoy and Benedict Cumberbatch. Yes please!

The BBC Radio 4 cast of Neverwhere.

And if you'd like to know what the book is actually about, here's the description from Gaiman's website:

Richard Mayhew is an unassuming young businessman living in London, with a dull job and a pretty but demanding fiancee. Then one night he stumbles across a girl bleeding on the sidewalk. He stops to help her--and the life he knows vanishes like smoke.
Several hours later, the girl is gone too. And by the following morning Richard Mayhew has been erased from his world. His bank cards no longer work, taxi drivers won't stop for him, his landlord rents his apartment out to strangers. He has become invisible, and inexplicably consigned to a London of shadows and darkness a city of monsters and saints, murderers and angels, that exists entirely in a subterranean labyrinth of sewer canals and abandoned subway stations. He has fallen through the cracks of reality and has landed somewhere different, somewhere that is Neverwhere.
For this is the home of Door, the mysterious girl whom Richard rescued in the London Above. A personage of great power and nobility in this murky, candlelit realm, she is on a mission to discover the cause of her family's slaughter, and in doing so preserve this strange underworld kingdom from the malevolence that means to destroy it. And with nowhere else to turn, Richard Mayhew must now join the Lady Door's entourage in their determined--and possibly fatal--quest.
For the dread journey ever-downward--through bizarre anachronisms and dangerous incongruities, and into dusty corners of stalled time--is Richard's final hope, his last road back to a "real" world that is growing disturbingly less real by the minute.
If Tim Burton reimagined The Phantom of the Opera, if Jack Finney let his dark side take over, if you rolled the best work of Clive Barker, Peter Straub and Caleb Carr into one, you still would have something that fell far short of Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere. It is a masterful debut novel of darkly hypnotic power, and one of the most absorbing reads to come along in years.

Mommy Mondays: I Get By With a Little Help From My Friends

Today's post will be brief because, hallelujah, I have visitors! Not just this week but last week too. I can't even tell you how much more fun it is to be here with people I love around (Jack and John are pretty awesome, but variety is, as they say, the spice of life).

Last week, my good friend Erin came as a guest of the Consulate to speak about law with Russian law school students. She was super busy with presentations, but we had enough time to grab a few meals, catch up over coffee, shop (of course), and visit some of the sights. The highlight was the brief and freezing stop at the Europe/Asia border. Particularly when the exhausted, slightly bedraggled Erin asked, "So what European country are we in?"

It's Russia, Erin. It's aaaalllll Russia.

And then, glory of glories, my sister Sarah and best friend Kim arrived on Saturday night. We spent yesterday prepping for Sarah's presentations today and tomorrow (Sarah is also a guest of the Consulate, speaking about her work at National Geographic - yes, I'm friends with and related to some very cool people). Today Sarah presented her little ass off, rather successfully I might add, and Kim and I came along for moral support. It's more of the same tomorrow and Wednesday, and then we have a few free days in Yekat before we head to Moscow, where I'll have a week with Sarah and Kim before they go back to the States.

When in Russia...wear skinny jeans, a beanie, a scarf, and a coat with a fur-trimmed hood.

Did I mention how happy I am to see these beautiful, smiling faces for the next two weeks? So very, very happy.

Jack's pretty happy about Sha Sha and Auntie Kimmy, too.

I realize Yekaterinburg, Russia, may not be high on your must-see places list, but in addition to seeing where the Romanovs were murdered, just think about how happy YOU can make me by visiting here! (Seriously, think about it. We have a guest room and everything.)

Foreign Service Fridays: Life in the Foreign Service

It's been a roller coaster around here lately, which explains my blogging absence. I hope you'll check out my latest post at Most Eligible Family. Have a wonderful weekend, everyone.

STRENGTH Release Party!!

I'm slightly late to the game, but I wanted to congratulate Carrie Butler on the release of her novel, Strength, which I had the pleasure of reading before its release. I've never taken part in a book launch before, but it's been a lot of fun getting to be a part of this, and it's amazing to see how many writers are willing to help out a fellow writer in what I hope is the best day of their life (births and weddings not withstanding). Here are the details of Strength, followed by my interview with Carrie (SPOILER ALERT! Don't worry, the interview won't give away the ending or anything crazy, but it does reveal a couple of things about the plot.)

About STRENGTH:
Title: STRENGTH
Series: Mark of Nexus - Book 1
Publisher: Sapphire Star Publishing
Category: New Adult (NA)
Genre: Paranormal Romance (PNR)
Release Date: March 07, 2013
Formats: E-Book & Paperback
Paperback ISBN: 9781938404351
E-book ISBN: 9781938404368

Synopsis:
When college student Rena Collins finds herself nose-to-chest with the campus outcast, her rumor-laced notions are shattered. Handsome, considerate, and seemingly sane, Wallace Blake doesn’t look like he spends his nights alone, screaming and banging on the walls of his dorm room. Hell, he doesn’t look like he spends his nights alone, period.

Too curious for her own good, Rena vows to uncover the truth behind Wallace’s madman reputation—and how two seconds of contact had left her with bruises. Of course, there are a few setbacks along the way: guilt, admiration, feelings of the warm and fuzzy variety…

Not to mention the unwanted attention of Wallace's powerful, supernaturally-gifted family.

They’re a bloodline divided by opposing ideals, two soon-to-be warring factions that live in secret among us. When Rena ends up caught in their crossfire, Wallace has no choice but to save her by using his powers. Now they’re really in trouble. With war on the horizon and Rena’s life in the balance, he needs to put some distance between them. But Rena won’t let go. If fighting is what it takes to prove her own strength and keep Wallace in her life, then that’s what she’ll do—even if it means risking a whole lot more than her heart.


Links:
BOOK PAGE | GOODREADS | PUBLISHER | FACEBOOK | PINTEREST | BOOK TRAILER


Retailers:
AMAZON | KINDLE | BARNES AND NOBLE | NOOK | SONY READER STORE | KOBO | DIESEL | BAKER & TAYLOR

Praise:

"Carrie Butler is now on my must read list.” ~Lynn Rush, author of Violet Midnight

"I carried Strength with me everywhere. Grocery shopping, the dinner table, you name it. The storyline was addictive, and the characters were hilarious. I couldn't put it down." ~Jessica Therrien, author of Oppression

"...Carrie Butler’s debut novel is brilliant, riveting, imaginative and seamlessly written." ~Lisa Regan, author of Finding Claire Fletcher

“This is definitely one to buy for the bookshelf.” - All's Fair with Pen and Paper

“I love that Carrie took so much time in building the relationship between them. Yay for no instalove!” - Read It, Reviewed It

“I freaking loved every last word on every page.” - Scelest's Journal

“I'd definitely recommend this to anyone who's interested in reading a bloody good book. :)” - The Life of a Total Book Nerd

“I devoured this book in two days - staying up until the early hours because I didn't want to stop reading!” - Kyra Lennon, author of Game On

 

My Interview with Carrie:

 

I first read about Strength during our 2011 National Novel Revising Month query pass-around, and I loved the idea right away. What inspired you to write Strength?

Thank you, Mara! :) I had quite a few influences:

• First and foremost, I wanted to write about a unique, supernatural race.
• Second, I fell in love with the Five for Fighting cover of "All I Know". If you listen to the lyrics, they really relate to Strength's romance element.
• Third, Rena. She was one of those characters who demanded a story. Her voice was too distinct too ignore.

New Adult (NA) fiction is still a hotly debated genre. What made you decide to make your main character, Rena, college-aged?
Before I knew about the industry stigma, I imagined Rena on the precipice of adulthood—independent, but still struggling to find something she's passionate about. She needed room to grow and the freedom to make her own mistakes. What better environment than a college campus?
I loved how Strength was both funny and sexy at the same time. Was there any debate over including a (rather steamy) love scene? Did that influence your decision to make this a New Adult book rather than YA?
Thank you! Actually, there wasn't much debate over the love scene. By that point, I had already queried and landed a contract based on the fact that Strength was NA. My publisher and I agreed on the steam level, and we left plenty of room for the next two books. ;)
Having come up with my own paranormal mythology, I know how challenging it can be to not only create something truly original, but also to make sure you understand it thoroughly before you start writing. Where did your inspiration for the Dynari come from, and how long did you spend dreaming them up? I
The Dynari (and their counterparts) were years in the making. I often found myself daydreaming about various supernatural abilities and how they could balance each other out. Of course, now that I've started the series, I need to keep track of all the nitty-gritty details. I have power spreadsheets, family trees, lists of what would happen in various scenarios, etc. It's been quite the undertaking!
Wallace is a devout church-goer, and he takes Rena along with him at one point in the novel. I don’t recall ever reading about a paranormal creature who also happens to be Christian. Why did you decide to include those scenes in Strength?
Wallace is one of the most complex characters I've ever written. I never planned for him to be religious, and I certainly don't write preachy novels, but he needed a way to atone for his past. Campus Fellowship became a safe place for him—a place where he could take refuge in something greater than himself. When he shared that with Rena, he opened himself up to her for the first time.
(That, and I love to mess with people's preconceived notions. *grins*)
Strength is the first in a series. Did you set out to write it that way, or did the story build after you started?
I had a feeling the overall plot would take more than one book, but I never imagined how many side stories it would spawn!
Wallace has a twin brother, Cole, who is supernaturally fast. At first he’s kind of a jerk, but he’s also hot and funny. Is there a love triangle in the works here? A love triangle with Cole? Nah. I do have someone in mind for him, though... ;)
And now, for fun, tell us your most embarrassing college memory.
Aww, Mara. You went there? Okay, it's a little crazy, so I'll give you the short version...
Once upon a time, there was a naive, small-town girl who went away to college. A guy asked her out in an elevator, and they had dinner. The rest of the "date" consisted of him sneaking her into a theater after hours, showing her the steam tunnels, giving her a view of the city's lights, playing the piano, and then singing Phantom of the Opera. I kid you not. Anyway, he kissed her, and she was all like, "Whoa, buddy. We just met."
Awkward.
So, he sort of stomped off toward the exit. (He worked there and knew his way around in the dark; our heroine, sadly, did not.) In her haste to quickly put an end to the date, she fell down a flight of steps and sprained her ankle. More awkward.
He offered to carry her, but she declined—opting, instead, to limp back to the dorms. Of course, her embarrassment couldn't end there. As it turned out, they lived in the same building. She ran into him many times, after that. Many, many times...

Thanks for the opportunity, Carrie. Congrats on your release day, and may you have much success in the future!

Mommy Mondays: This is How We Grow

"The joy of life consists in the exercise of one's energies, continual growth, constant change, the enjoyment of every new experience. To stop means simply to die. The eternal mistake of mankind is to set up an attainable ideal."
-Aleister Crowley

It's late on Monday evening, the hubby is traveling for work, and the child is sleeping soundly. I have so many thoughts to organize from my week away, but the one thing I keep coming back to is growth: growth in my career, growth in my little boy (who miraculously learned how to have a phone conversation in my absence), and my own personal growth. 

This past year has held a lot of challenges, but I realized last week just how far I've come. I tend to view birthdays negatively - they usually only serve to remind me of how much I haven't accomplished, because like many people, I become fixated on my long-term goals. Of course, when you live like that, it's easy to miss the things you've gained along the way.

This week, however, my gains are clear: twenty-odd friends, a whole new respect for Foreign Service families, insight into my own accomplishments, a sincere appreciation of Turkish cuisine and people, and last (but certainly not least), the Harlem Shake. I'd say it's shaping up to be a rather excellent year.

Things I Love Thursdays: Woodland Critters for Grown-Ups

Over the past few years, the whole "woodland creatures" theme has become very popular, and not just for nurseries. I love me a wee barn owl, baby raccoon, or wily fox, and having a small child has certainly allowed me to indulge in the cuteness. But the other day, my friend Leigh shared an Etsy page full of adorable jewelry that was actually wearable for someone in her thirties - let's face it, I just can't pull off a cartoon owl T-shirt the way I used to. (A bunny iPhone case, on the other hand, is TOTALLY mature, right?) The following items are things I think I might actually be able to get away with. What do you think?

Rustic hedgehog necklace from iamabird (thanks to Leigh for the link!).

Raccoon and ermine pillow from Coral and Tusk.

 

Badger print from wintersmoke.

Temporary tattoos from BurrowingHome.

Woodland Creatures print from Hello!Lucky.

Antler necklace from paperfacestudio (reminds me of Shadow and Bone too!).

A Glimpse Into the Mind of a Three-Year-Old

This isn't a Mommy Monday, and I don't have anything particularly writerly to write about for tomorrow. So today I'm just doing a random Jack post, because sometimes the stuff he does is too good not to write down. For those of you with kids (hell, for those of you without kids), it might not sound like anything spectacular. But he's mine, and I think he's adorable, so I hope you'll indulge me today.

I'm not sure if it was spending the last ten days in Paris with English-speaking family members (yeah, it was awesome, and yes, it's hard to be back), but Jack's speech has exploded even more over the last few days. I mean, the kid has always been a talker, but he's having full-on conversations now, and even though I don't know what he's talking about half of the time, it's hilarious to try to follow the thought process of a three-year-old.

Nevermind the creepy arterial blob above Mary's head; it's the naked baby that Jack wants to hear about!

For example, I was just in the bathroom folding laundry when Jack took his little red fleece jacket, draped it around my neck, and said I was going to the doctor. What started out as a stethoscope (I think) somehow morphed into a hair dresser's smock. Jack got a haircut in Paris, so apparently it was my turn to get my hair cut "short like Daddy." He picked up one of his monkey socks and placed it in the palm of his hand, then proceeded to run my hair through the folded sock, which I guess was his idea of cutting my hair. I tried to ignore the crazy amounts of static he was generating (and the occasional yanked strand) because he was so earnest about it. He alternated between saying he was cutting my hair short and that he was giving me a big, big doctor (still confused about that one). Then he used a pair of my folded socks to wave over my head like a blow dryer. Finally, he grabbed a pair of pants and brushed my hair with them before proclaiming that I was "all done." Best haircut of my life.

While we were eating brunch at my sister's house the other day, Jack decided to recount the story of his injured eye from Christmas Eve, over and over and over. "Mommy, remember in the Montana house when I fell and hit my eye on the bar stool and had a booboo and put ice on it and, and, remember Mommy?" We heard variations of that for about five minutes straight, until his cousins had decided Jack was insane and I started to wonder if the episode had scarred him for life. (Seriously, I was just proofing this post and Jack started talking about his eye again. WTF?!)

Yesterday Jack created an elaborate scene with his Clipo blocks involving a family of matryoshka dolls eating pizza together, with the tiniest one in a high chair and the biggest one (the mommy), sitting next to it. When it was time for "ta-zert," Jack started flinging Lego people, animals, and vehicles into a giant pile. The elephant was a gray birthday cake; the brown bear was chocolate. Duh.

Jack's favorite part of Notre Dame? The bells. And the train Grammy bought him before our tour.

I know these are the kinds of things all kids this age do, and Jack has been playing pretend for a long time, the way all toddlers do. But now that he can actually describe what he's doing, I get to really see things through his eyes, to understand what is going on in that ever-developing brain of his. Potty training may be making me insane; his occasional post-bedtime "I'm thirsty" routine is so cliche I feel like I must have inadvertently given him the idea; and I do occasionally worry about his bizarre fixations (is it normal for a kid this age to continue to be obsessed with fans? And he was REALLY into that baby Jesus...). But mostly, I love the funny, thoughtful, curious little boy Jack is becoming, and I can't wait to see what he comes up with next.

Writing Wednesdays: Ode to a CP

This week's Writing Wednesday also happens to be a Thing I Love (or Person I Love, more accurately). I've been meaning to write about my awesome critique partner, who shall remain anonymous because she likes it that way, for a while now. She has seriously changed my writing life over the past year, and she deserves a shout-out for not only reading every novel, query, pitch, and false start I throw at her, but for always being there with a damn good pep talk when I really need one (which is often).

A lot of people out there have a whole group of CPs, and for the record, I do have six or seven CPs/betas who have always been amazingly generous with their time. But I don't have the relationship with them I have with my one true CP. For one thing, we met online, so when she first read Forever Friday, she didn't know me from Eve. She's the one CP I have who is truly objective (although now she knows I'm sensitive so it's possible she tempers her comments a little more, but I don't think so). We have very different writing styles, but she's an AMAZING writer who doesn't put herself out there nearly enough in my humble opinion, because if she did, she'd have an agent by now. But she's not competitive, which I love, and she's incredibly knowledgeable about YA, so she can always tell me if an idea is fresh or overdone.

My CP's comments are always fair and balanced - she doesn't hold back with criticism or compliments. She reads quickly, never leaving me waiting for very long. And even though there's a 13 hour time difference between us, she always emails me back right away. Unlike my non-writing friends and family members, she GETS IT, which is probably the most important thing about having CPs who are writers. She's the cheerleader who's always ready with another cheer, who always has a word of inspiration handy, who reminds me of my successes when all I see are failures. She's someone I consider a best friend, even though we've never even spoken on the phone. I've already decided that if I ever get an agent, I'm flying out to where she lives so we can celebrate together, in person, because it will be her accomplishment as much as mine (and because I hear she's an amazing cook.)

So, thank you to my lovely, patient, wonderful CP. I don't know where I'd be on this journey if it wasn't for you, but I know it would be way more lonely, and a heck of a lot less fun.

An Evening at the Banya

First, before I launch into this post, I am in the Bouncer Round over at Cupid's Literary Connection (#119). Leave me a comment and earn a little good karma, won't you?

As some of you know, I made the rather bold decision to visit a traditional Russian banya a few weeks ago. A banya, for those of you who don't know, is sort of like a bath house/sauna/torture chamber. It sounded right up my alley, so I said, "Sure, why not?" Actually, it sounded like my own personal version of hell, so I said, "Sure, why not?" Because I'm crazy like that.

There were originally supposed to be four or five of us going, but one girl had to work and the other chickened out (in retrospect, I don't blame her), so there were only three of us left: my friend K and her friend who works in St. Pete, A, and yours truly. K had been to this very banya a month ago, so I figured it was a good sign she was willingly returning. A was a banya newbie, like me. We took a cab out of the city (the cabbie sweetly proclaimed, "Americans are all fat, but you are small." - I like to think we did our part to shatter American stereotypes that day) and arrived at the quaintest little Russian village I'd ever seen.




I should have known that such a charming exterior could only house pure evil.

We went into our own little cottage, where there was a wooden table and a couch along one wall (I shudder now to think how many a naked, sweaty ass has perched on that couch) and a doorway leading to an anteroom. One more door took you to the sauna itself, aka Hades.

While we waited for our personal banya dude to prepare, we started nibbling on the snacks K and A had brought with them. When banya dude, who we'll call G (because that was the only part of his name I understood), saw us, he told us not to eat too much before our treatments, which we chose from a long menu that I couldn't read. K recommended the honey and coffee scrub, so we all went with that (it also only involved one trip into the snow, which was plenty from what I could surmise). K offered to go first so we could get an idea of what we were in for. Just as I regretted watching Sarah undergo her LASIK procedure before I did mine, I would come to realize that perhaps watching K wasn't such a good idea. But we'll get to that in a bit.

I mentioned previously that the banya generally involves nudity. You're provided with these fancy little cloth, well, cloths, to wear, but once inside the sauna, any extraneous clothing only makes things more unbearable. Whilst strategizing with Sarah ahead of time, we decided I should take a pair of bikini bottoms ("I draw the line at vag," were Sarah's exact words, and I was inclined to agree). However, K and A made it clear that I was being overly prudent, so I gingerly stripped out of my clothing and wrapped myself tightly in a lovely leopard printed frock while I awaited my turn. We all walked into the sauna together, which was already a steamy inferno when we arrived. K laid herself out on the wooden platform atop a thin foam mat and A and I watched in awe as a nude K was pummeled with various foliage, our nostril hair immediately singed in the extreme heat and our eyeballs melting down our faces. Eventually G told us to get the hell out, since we'd have our own turn soon enough and we needed to have something left to sweat out when the time came. At that point, I wasn't sure I actually still wanted the treatment, but it seemed too late to back out now, and anyway, I was morbidly curious about the whole thing.


My banya ensemble, sure to be all the rage next season.


I could go into a lengthy description about what it was like watching K experience the treatment, but I think it will be more effective if I describe what it was like for me as it was happening. Ready folks? Here goes.

G, who spoke enough basic English that I felt confident he'd understand simple phrases like "too hot," "I'm dying," and "get those goddamn birch branches away from me NOW," instructed me to lie down on the platform as Krisi had done, face down. He placed a bundle of cold-water soaked pine branches under me head and another on top, to keep my head cool. (By the way, I do not recommend the banya to anyone with claustrophobia, as I felt like I was trapped inside a giant, burning bush for the majority of the treatment.) As I tried to blink dripping water out of my eye and extricate a pine needle from my lips, G threw some water on the hot coals, picked up his bundle of birch branches, and got to work.

The birch branches are mostly leaves, so it felt a bit like having wet chickens smacked up and down my body. G waved the birch branches vigorously, creating little eddies of molten heat, and then smacked again, paying special attention to my feet and lower back. Occasionally he'd redip my pine boughs so I didn't roast to death, but it was so hot in the sauna I was afraid to open my eyes, which was just as well considering I was buck naked and didn't really want to think about the fact that a large, sweaty man in transparent clothing was standing next to me. Several times, G paused in his whapping to throw buckets of ice cold (literally - a direct line from the snow) water onto my body and head, leaving me spluttering and gasping for air.

After a while I flipped over, which was when I really started to regret going fully nude, and the process was repeated. When I seemed thoroughly beaten and oxygen-starved, G took my hand and led me outside. I should mention that once outside, anyone who happened to be walking by would have had a full-on show. Fortunately, it was after 8 pm by this point so I had darkness on my side. When I realized I was actually expected to run out into the snow barefoot, I looked at K and A (who had come out to witness my humiliation) with disbelief. But G was nudging me forward, so I dashed out into the snow as fast as possible, waited for about fifteen seconds while G rubbed snow into my shoulders and back, screamed something along the lines of "MOTHER F%&*ER," and sprinted back into the house.

There was also a tea break in there somewhere, but the exact sequence of events seems to have escaped me.

Then it was back into the sauna for more birch branches, followed by a thorough scrubbing with pine branches (which hurt even more than the birch branches but slightly less than the snow), and then came the fresh coffee grounds and honey, which G slathered all over my body until I was sticky, gritty, and ready for the whole thing to be over. "Finished?" G asked me. I mumbled something along the lines of "da" and G took me to the anteroom, where I was literally hosed down with more of the freezing water. And that, my friends, was that.

All in all, the process lasted about 45 minutes, in temperatures ranging from 190F to somewhere around 0 (it wasn't a particularly cold day, thank goodness). I was assured I could expect to feel invigorated and as soft as a baby the next day, but somehow I woke up with a sore throat and a rash over most of my torso (I blame the pine needles, but it could just as easily have been the coffee grounds; it's hard to say). Today, I'm sick with a cold. I seem to be the only person in world history who got sick from going to the banya, since most people apparently get BETTER when they visit. Perhaps my immune system wasn't ready to tackle so many extremes after just getting over the stomach flu? Whatever the case, I'm not at all sorry I went to the banya, but I can't say it's something I plan to do on a regular basis (aka ever again). As I told John, I can't imagine anyone actually enjoying the banya, but I suppose if you're Russian and you really believe that sweating profusely and experiencing extreme temperature fluctuations is good for you, it might be something you come to look forward to. You know, in the way some people look forward to a good enema every now and again.

I will say this: I'm proud of myself. While I was lying in my nest of pine needles, hyperventilating as I listened to G go about his preparations, I had to give myself an honest-to-goodness pep-talk: "You are stronger than the banya, Mara." I faced several fears that evening. A fear of saunas, a fear of flagellation, and a fear of public nudity. This is what living abroad is all about, people.

That, and finding out just how far you're willing to go for a good blog post.    

Foreign Service Fridays: Home Sick

A detailed account of life in the trenches (aka surviving the stomach flu in Russia) can be found here. I am so ready for this week to be over it's not even funny. Happy Friday everyone. And stay healthy!