Saturday, June 27, 2009

Siberia, Russia: A Myth of Mystery

Siberia isn't much different than any other part of the planet, I have come to learn. It's just in Russia, which generates an aura of mystery to most Westerners. Because of its latitude, its climate is a bit more extreme in winter than many locales, except for the polar regions. I am not a scholar and this is not a history lesson. It's my musing and it's primarily concerning Novosibirsk, Siberia, Russia.
The enormous Russian region known as Siberia occupies Eurasia's northeastern quadrant. It covers an area of 13,488,400 square kilometers (5,207,900 square miles) and makes up more than three quarters of Russia. It is a fourth bigger than Canada, the world's second largest country. It extends from the Ural Mountains on the west, to the Pacific Ocean on the east. From south to north it spans an empty realm from Kazakhstan, Mongolia, and China to the Arctic Ocean. It is empty because, although Siberia includes 23 percent of Eurasian territory, it claims less than 1 percent of the continent's population.
To many Westerners the name evokes a popular misconception that Siberian settlers are exiles or forced laborers. It is true that Siberia became a place of exile during the early 1700s and remained that for long after, but most Siberian settlers have been free migrants. Between 1885 and 1914, 4 million Slavic peasants sought refuge in Siberia. Almost all of them—and the majority of those afterward—settled in the southern tier along the main transportation routes. The rest of Siberia had a population density of less than one person per square mile (0.5 person per square kilometer), a condition that remains true.
The people have long called Siberia the "future" or "cupboard" of the nation, and the cupboard teems with raw materials. Despite long winters with subzero temperatures, about a tenth of Siberia's mineral and forest wealth has been tapped and is under development by prospectors. Some 200 industrial cities and towns, more than 30 with populations of more than 100,000 cropped up throughout the region during the 20th century. Largest industrial centers such as Novosibirsk and Krasnoyarsk each have population of well over a million.
The mineral resources of Siberia are enormous; particularly notable are its deposits of coal, petroleum, natural gas, diamonds, iron ore, and gold. Both mining and manufacturing underwent rapid development in Siberia in the second half of the 20th century, and steel, aluminum, and machinery are now among the chief products. Agriculture is confined to the more southerly portions of Siberia and produces wheat, rye, oats, and sunflowers.
Today's Siberia is one of the most dynamically developing regions of the Russian Federation. With the fall of the USSR, Siberia became more open to foreign travel and trade, while local Siberians sought to distance themselves from the Russian government in Moscow. Being developed for so long time as a functional appendage of the center, Siberia is now endeavoring to establish its own systems of foreign trade and international economic relations aimed at compensating regional economic disparities.
I have never been to Siberia, so some of the facts will have been personally communicated to me by a friend who is a native of Novosibirsk, Siberia. Other facts will come from the public domain, common knowledge, as it were. I will be composing the post on-the-fly. I will already have some facts at hand while composing, as well as composing from memory - which I will then verify and may correct.
Siberia, Russia is a vast region, and Novosibirsk is its largest city, with 1.6 million souls. Novosibirsk, the largest city in Siberia and the third in the country after Moscow and St. Petersburg, houses the State Academy Opera and Ballet Theater, a large scientific research center, and a large variety of casinos, world-class universities, institutes, and theaters.
My friend lives in Novosibirsk, which is quite a metropolitan city by Russian standards. Yes, Russia has standards. Now, however, Siberia's standards are more lofty than Russia's as a whole. Siberia is a melting pot of peoples and cultures, all combining to give Siberia a fresh, wholesome face. It is also a wealth of higher education opportunities, including world-class universities and research institutes. Western-style capitalism is flourishing, with high fashion stores and boutiques, auto dealerships, and other for-profit businesses opening most every day. But even as progressive as it is, Siberia is still, in many ways, like taking a step, well, not exactly back in time, just definitely somewhere else. Nomads still roam the Russian Steppe, but their yurt probably has some modern conveniences inside, and the car is parked outside, along with the reindeer and horses. Although life in a Siberian city like Novosibirsk is certainly comfortable for most, much of the land beyond the city's limits is still wild. The climate is harsh for most of the year, and the weather can change very quickly, usually for the worse.
Most Westerners, including myself, always thought of Siberia as a very cold place. And it is, in winter. The summers are quite mild, however. June and July temperatures in Arkansas are 97F to 100F. June and July temps in Novosibirsk are milder than Arkansas, with lows from 40F to highs of 75F. There is a Siberian joke that explains that there is a difference in winter and summer. In summer, Siberians wear their fur coats unbuttoned.

WHAT'S YOUR FANTASY?

Recently a very dear friend (don't ask) and I were talking and the subject of fantasies (again, don't ask) came up. Like most people, I guess, I have one occasionally. Like winning the big lottery and living financially happily everafter. Now, my friend may have this one, too. But the lottery was not the subject of the friend's fantasy. I liked it better than mine. What's your fantasy?

WHO IS THE AGGREIVED, HERE?

Just what on Earth is going on in this country?
In just one generation many of us have experienced a virtual turnover of values, mores, and fingerpointing. Fingerpointing?
Perpetrators have become victims and victims have become perpetrators. My God in Heaven Above, just what on Earth is going on? Social scientists (yeah, those people) can explain it much better than I can; or claim they can. But UP is now DOWN and DOWN is, well, you know.
The poor, misguided murderer kills because he (or she) is a victim of, well who cares what. The actual victim no longer matters much. All the attention, aid, and resources are now lavished on what was once the perp. Alice in Wonderland all over again.
To wit: This past week I was headed home from work on a two-lane county road, my daily route. I am driving the road's speed limit, 55 MPH, when a young female twit (I really want to use a different spelling) runs a stop sign, turns in the same direction I'm traveling, and gently urges her four-cylinder car up the steep hill just beginning ahead of us. Remember, I'm at road speed - 55 - and just beginning the double-yellow-line uphill climb. My car has good brakes and I could have locked them up, but who knows whether the driver behind me observed the instant change of events, and whether I could have avoided the young, ah, twit's car's rearend that was just a headlight away.
I consider myself a good, defensive driver (as everyone thinks of themselves) and had already observed that there was no oncoming, downhill traffic. Rather than braking, I whipped into the left lane to pass her quickly. Speed was my ally since her little four-cylinder, high-yellow wanna-be 'sportscar' was struggling to gain uphill speed. "Good manuever", I thought as I whizzed past her, about to give her the evil eye, when I INSTANTLY BECAME THE PERPETRATOR RATHER THAN A NEAR-MISS VICTIM. The young twit (it's taking all I can muster to not change one letter here) has dispensed with her evil eye and is flipping me off. Ahhhhhhh, I see now! SHE HAS INTERPRETED IN HER LITTLE BLONDE HEAD THAT SHE IS THE VICTIM of my overzealous and bully-like passing! Well bull-ull-ull shit! She's wasn't even old enough to change her own crap-filled panties that day, much less old enough to interpret anything of driving value (no offense meant to you, Granddaughters. Just don't be like this twit).
I guess I was expecting her to just shrug an "I'm Sorry", but I didn't realize I'd become a perp by avoiding a potential mess - and passing on that double-yellow (not a really good idea, anyway). All I could do was shake my head as I drove on home, with her behind me, variously from 3 car lengths to half-mile back.
While I was doing a bit of figurative Fingerpointing toward her, Ms Twit was doing it literally toward me. Just what on Earth is going on in this country?

Monday, June 15, 2009

What's On Your Menu?

When I was a young boy growing up in the 1950s, the times were tough economically. The weekday evening meal almost always included pinto beans as the protein. They were cheap and easy to prepare, and most always were seasoned with salt pork. Frankly, however, I don't actually remember the other dishes that were on the table. Probably homegrown vegetables and, of course, cornbread. Sunday dinners were either breaded and fried flounder (it was cheap, too), fried chicken, or a beef roast in a dish Dad called "family pan". The family pan was simply a roast with any other ingredients that the "family" wanted to include. The most exotic addition that I remember was apple slices. The family pan was rather straight forward, but we all felt we had a hand in it.
The entire family ate the popular cuts of meat: pork, beef, chicken, and fish. But almost none of the meals consisted of organ cuts. Sure, we had fried chicken livers and I enjoyed them into adulthood, but seldom had pork or beef liver, somewhat less enjoyable. All the meals were delicious and nutritious for the time. However, we never had more exotic meats like sweetbreads, pigs feet (Dad did like pickeled pigs feet), or brains. Kids don't like the idea of eating this stuff unless they have always been served it. Dad ate souse and tried to get us kids to. We wouldn't. I do actually remember a dish of brains and gravy once. We wouldn't eat that either.
But now, since the world is a much smaller place, all kinds of exotic (weird) things are available for human consumption. People with various ethnic backgrounds and cultures have brought their eating habits, and favorites, with them to our shores. Sushi, chicken feet, and many more weird things are here, and being served in homes and upscale restaurants. Just take a look at what's being eaten these days by visiting http://www.divinecaroline.com/22145/76526-forgotten-meats-making-comeback--it-s/
I am now older and wiser. I'm not about to embark on a culinary journey now. Especially if it includes anything from the divinecaroline website's story on so-called forgotten meats. They have never come to my dinner table, so they certainly willl not be making a comeback. I don't eat chicken livers any more, either.

Monday, June 1, 2009

Nature at its Best

I am a casual observer of nature. I especially enjoy seeing and learning about birds. I do not belong to a bird watching group. Neither will I travel to the ends of the Earth to see them. But I like them. EXCEPT for blackbirds and Starlings. These two seem to enjoy making a mess of things, congregating around humans and crapping all over everything. Of course, birds will "drop" wherever they are, but blackbirds and Starlings are especially egregious about it.

I do admire the Starlings' opportunistic behavior of developing nesting sites, such as pulling home siding apart at a seam, entering attics by tearing out vent screens, or setting up housekeeping in high-pressure sodium street lamps. But I don't like anything else about them.
Enter the Red Bellied Woodpecker. Here's a Bird I Like.

As long as it doesn't begin attacking the house.

In about mid-April, 2009, a Red Bellied Woodpecker constructed a nest in a dead limb of a Willow Oak tree in my backyard. This gave me the opportunity to observe its behavior on a daily basis, as well as learn its call. I now realize that I had heard a red-bellied woodpecker's call before, but did not know what it was. Initially I thought the bird was a Red-headed Woodpecker because "mine" does have red on its head - its red is actually called the cap, not the head. But it is not a Red-head. Even though it is called Red-bellied, one has to look hard to see the color on its breast. I call mine Rosie. Yeah, Rosie.

I have enjoyed seeing Rosie up close. Her nest is about 20 feet from our deck, and about 30 feet from the ground. Since April she has been faithfully incubating the eggs. They are apparently now hatched as yesterday I saw her make trip after trip to forage for food for her clutch. Red-bellied woodpeckers don't typically "peck" for food. They forage on the ground for insects, even catching mice, as well as catching insects on-the-fly. I have read that Rosie could even catch a live grasshopper, and then tightly tuck it - live - into a crevice in a tree for later dining. Cool!

I hope I get to see the juveniles, perhaps preening and stretching their wings before they abandon the nest - as all offspring should do!

Woodpecker UPDATE - June 27, 2009, Bird Today, Gone Tomorrow

Well, I had the simple pleasure of seeing only one juvenile Red Belly for a week or so. At least, I think it was just one. It would appear at the nest hole, looking about for its next meal to be delivered. This was during some of the hottest weather we have had and the fledgling had to be hot. I never saw it outside the nest, though. Since it has been about a week since I've seen it or its parents, I suppose it's vacated the premises - ahem, as all offspring should do.

However, almost as interesting as seeing the fledgling appear in the 'doorway' was seeing both parents foraging, and feeding the chick. I had thought I was seeing a very efficient mother quickly catching, and then feeding insects to her baby. Then, while observing through a pair of still-excellent 40 year old Yashica, 10x50 binoculars, I discovered that both mom and dad were sharing the burden. As soon as one brought in a meal and few back out to nature's deli, the other flew in with more bounty. As one of my daughters-in-law said, "Aw, that's sweet". She was right.