It crossed my mind that I might get shot at, or at the very least yelled at by an angry German peasant with pitchfork, but I just couldn’t stop myself. I knew that we only had five days in the Black Forest of Germany, that there were only so many forks in the road one could come to during such a short visit, and that I would just have to make the decision: should I keep jogging to the right, along a road lined with uniformly
stacked moss-covered firewood sure to meet up with Hansel and Gretal’s wood-chopping dad; or should I jog left, up through a path lined with apple trees, wild blackberry bushes, ferns and some other magical character? Each fork brought me such joy and such stress. You can’t stop just because you don’t know whose farm you’ll run into or because you don’t know where the road leads. I mean, what if you miss the unicorn?I saw some beautiful sights those mornings when I kept on running: villages on the hillsides across the valley
with their church steeples keeping watch over it all; dark woods covered in moss, mist, and sunlight cutting through the tree trunks; and lonely apple trees bursting forth with fruit. Jogging in these woods lifted me out of this world and then set me back down on a page of Grimm’s Fairy Tales. I’ll never forget those misty mornings in Germany. 
We arrived on September 2 and after the drive of insanity on the autobahn, topping speeds of 140mph with our German friend calm-as-can-be at the wheel, we spent these short five days in a beautiful cabin in the Black Forest with our friends. We met these friends in Saint Petersburg during our stay there four years ago. They have two daughters now, both our girls’ ages. 
T and H spent their learning-to-walk days together in Saint Petersburg as their parents talked. The girls picked up right where they left off, holding hands within a day during our visit to the Hohenzollern castle – the castle in the clouds situated on the highest peak of a mountain. Google it. It’s amazing. 
After we had our fill of Swabian Sp”atzle, real Swiss fondue, German riesling, Italian coffee with the beans ground on-the-spot, and the best chocolate in the world (this was verified by our friend, a true connoisseur of fine chocolates-if you don’t believe him prepare yourself to be laughed at heartily), we left for Omsk.
We have a two bedroom spacious, warm, and clean apartment just outside the city center, complete with internet. D’s advisor at the university is kind and helpful, along with the rest of the faculty at the international office. We both begin on Monday: D will be starting research, and H, G and I will begin school at home. D and I will also begin private Russian lessons at home with a teacher from the university. I’m very surprised at how much Russian I understand. I don’t remember leaving Petersburg with as much knowledge, but it seems it has melded since being away.
We wore short sleeves and sandals the day we arrived in Omsk. The next day we were in down coats. So, we have a long winter ahead but I feel strangely at home here. It is not so foreign this time around. We’re enjoying the food once again. We’re enjoying the 25 cent bus rides to anywhere. And we’re enjoying the prospect of site-seeing very soon. H & G are adjusting beautifully to their bright bedroom that they share and are already busy situating their books and crayons accordingly. They both enjoy the soviet-era playground outside our apartment building, “especially,” says H, “the painted tires sticking out of the ground.”
We’re looking forward to attending a protestant church this Sunday and seeing a bit more of the city. So this is where we’re at now. More to come. P.S. No, the background of this blog is not a photo of our apartment. Just a cool scene I liked.
