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If wealth were determined by the amount of genuine laughing amongst family members, my Russian family would be sleeping on riches. In stead they sleep on comfortable, Warm beds within a warm and cozy apartment. The warmth of the family came from both the heater and from their kind hearts. Instantly when I met Masha and Andrea, I knew I was in good hands. They greeted me at the schoolhouse, stood very close and with big blue eyes and rosy pink cheeks asked me if I was ready to go. Their eyes and enthusiasm was the same, they were obviously father and daughter.
Lena runs the show. She cooks delicious food, reads Russian romance novels, and teaches 7th grade algebra. Although I could not speak with her, we had conversations about father's chocolate, and fish guts, using our hands and facial expressions. It was a lot of fun. Russian women are strong, hard working, and very beautiful. Almost all women that I saw in Pskov wore long fur coats and applied make-up, including Lena and her daughter Masha.
Masha was in the 8th grade and had the self-discipline to study for at least three to four hours each day. She could speak in three different languages, and loved Ricky Martin. She taught me to dance the mambo and the cha-cha-cha, which for some reason was very difficult to learn. Masha had a great love for her grandfather that was like no other. She squealed when told her grandparents were on their way over, and once there, she sat with her arms tightly roped around him.
 Andre, the father, was almost always smiling. He was constantly pleasant and seemed genuinely happy. He may have gotten a lot of practice smiling at his grocery store, where he deals with happy customers. One night Andre pulled out his photographs. He showed us pictures from "long ago", when he claimed he was a "Russian Hippy." He looked like a long-haired boy in a band to me. The next picture was of Andre with a lot less hair, getting ready to serve his mandatory time in the Soviet Army.
I was so thankful to my host family. They welcomed me into their homes and taught me the meaning of being a gracious host. I hope someday Masha will be able to come and visit me. She is very interested because her grandfather has told her about his time in New York City. Someday I hope to go back to Russia and I know I will have friends there no matter how much time passes between our next meeting.
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