The weather turned today and they promised -20 Celsius tomorrow! Perhaps a coat with one button wasn't such a good idea after all. My only sweater has a moth hole in the front from sitting around unused for so long and the gloves I borrowed from a friend (the kind that are mittens but open up and have fingers) were cute until I noticed the flaw in the design - drafts.

Okay, enough about weather; I'll be back in warm sunny California in less than a month now! Perhaps I should entertain you with my Halloween story. I have spent many Halloweens in Russia and all of them bring back fond memories. Like the year I went to Jacko's casino dressed as a Bud beer can and kissed the clown's pet mouse. Or the year I was decked out as a Hershey kiss and won first prize at the dacha party. Originally, my ex-boyfriend and I were to be a pair: Hershey hug and kiss. However, the kiss went solo and picked up a few men in liederhaussen. I barely survived those Austrian boys as they accosted me with kisses of their own. Then there was the year when we invited our teachers and their children from the institute to our dormitory and had a great costume party with candy brought back from Estonia to make up for the Russian shortages. I never did make it to Transylvania on the original tour of Dracula's castle.

This year I had myself a Siberian Halloween. We met at the office at 8 p.m., the four expatriate consultants, Alexei and his wife. Two of the consultants arrived the morning before from the States, a long trip as I just arrived myself the day before! The estimated travel time to the party was an hour and I nearly backed out. Alexei did the usual Russian thing and told me what I wanted to hear, "oh, no, it's only 30 minutes and we can have you back by midnight." Of course, midnight was still too late, so he phoned someone somewhere and reassured us that somehow someway we would be able to come back at 10:30 p.m.

Of course, as we left the building and I saw a bus parked out front, I knew right then and there that this was a bad idea. We would be stuck until that bus was ready to return. Five years of living in Moscow wiped out the naiveté in me, the very same naiveté I saw in the eyes of my fellow consultants. Peer pressure from that very same Russia-uninitiated obliged me to take a seat and get comfortable. Forty minutes later after we stopped at every corner in Tomsk to pick up the remaining guests, mostly Russian women and three cameramen, we finally began our "30 minute" journey to the former Soviet pioneer camp where local teenage students of English awaited our arrival.

Another forty-five minutes later we finally arrived. The extra five minutes was due to the fact that the last 15 minutes the bus weaved its way through a forest which seemed to go nowhere and indeed, he chose the wrong way at least once. No taxi on the planet would ever find us there!

Twenty young girls and boys decked out as goblins and witches were seated in a huge room and the short hyperactive director herded us over to the long table with food and vodka. We waited a few minutes as the cameramen set up. It must have been a slow news night in Tomsk. Then the entertainment commenced. Ten young girls and one boy sang American songs to us for 45 minutes and then the head witch and her sister, the ghost, put on a little skit in English. At the end, dozens of eager little hands descended upon the zakusky on the table. Because the children outnumbered the adults, I am not sure exactly who was consuming the various bottles of vodka strewn on the table. I had my share, which quelled my temper a bit. Okay, call me a party-pooper, but while the singers were quite talented, nothing warranted a 1-1/2-hour bus ride at 9 p.m. with no return ticket in sight.

Gratefully, they were children with reasonable bedtimes and as soon as the food was gone, the party was over, except for the mandatory bonfire in the snow. While we waited, I took the bus driver aside and explained our situation, trying to appeal to his compassionate side. But, oh, no, this was a pre-Russia man and the all Soviet power trip went into action. He would make sure, no doubt, that we would be the last ones to get dropped off that evening. I tried one last plea by appealing to the good senses of the hyperactive director of this all Hollow's extravaganza, and then got on the bus to save myself a seat. That was the smartest move I made all night as it turned out that we were picking up new guests: a dozen children. Where they would sit was unclear, but I had my seat and Ellen sat her ground as well. Another 30 minutes went by as the big 4 foot speakers were packed in the aisles of the bus and the cameramen perched themselves atop, blocking any chance of escape for Bob and Bill in the back row.

We left, we slept, we arose to the high pitched voice of a woman asking what the route for drop-off would be. When she discovered that "we" were first, she tried to change the plan to drop the dear children off first. "Over my dead body," I thought. Of course, common sense and logic prevailed and we would indeed enter the city from the west and go east. I can't help it if my street is the first street from the west and the children live in the east! My flatmate Olga and I finally reached home at 12:30 a.m., Olga a bit disappointed as she had been promised a big party. I recall looking back as I got off the bus, seeing Bob and Bill wedged in between several small ghosts and gobblins, helpless as their only translator was exiting the bus. In Siberia, it's every man, woman and child for himself. With only a slight twinge of guilt as I stepped off the bus, I was relieved as the hour was still young. Of course, Ellen arrived at her hotel at 1:10, promptly called Alexei and vented her entire life's frustration upon his good-intentions. I later found out that right after they dropped us off, the bus got stuck and everyone had to get out and push! Bill got home at 3 a.m. and even his patience and good humor wore thin.

I did give away a few Hershey kisses and Reese's to a few girls who sang me a song. All-in-all I rate this Halloween a 5, but certainly it is one I will always remember and perhaps in a few years, I will remember only the sweet enthusiasm of Siberian children trying so hard to entertain the Americans with their knowledge of English and the traditions of Halloween in America.

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