Russia Adventures!!! Part 1

"There is a race of men that don't fit in,

A race that can't sit still;

So they break the hearts of kith and kin, 

And they roam the world at will.

They range the field and rove the flood, 

And they climb the mountain's crest;

Their's is the curse of the gypsy blood, 

And they don't know how to rest.” 

― Robert W. Service

I've never found a more perfect quote in my life. The curse of the gypsy blood keeps me moving forward, even when I'm too tired to stand. Each adventure will be my last, I think, until I sit again. (Go ahead, quote me ;D )

Coming off of my Russia high, I can tell you one thing: There is no better feeling than living out a life dream. That sense of accomplishment, of awe, of fulfillment. Knowing your effort and patience has led you to this point... There is also, no worse feeling. The sense of an ending, as that thing that has always been in the back of your mind is now realized, and gone. This is how I felt when looking upon St. Basil's Cathedral in Moscow. An image I've yearned to see all of my life- towering in front of me. Attainment marbled with resolution (yup, just made that a verb). But then, a third emotion, more powerful than the other two, struck me. A feeling I can only describe as Wanderlust- the feeling of a boundless future of endless possibilities. I felt beyond free, no longer needing to realize this deep-seeded goal I've carried since I was old enough to remember, no; my future is limitless. I thought I would be satiated or satisfied, but I forgot who I was dealing with. Now, I have just cleared a space on my bucket list to be filled with God knows what.

My Gypsy Caravan

Enough of my ranting though, and time to chronicle my awesome adventures in the Motherland! And, not that you need any warning by now, but this may take a few posts...

So, starting the day before day one.. (Bear with me, there is a reason). So for a week(ish) leading up to my departure I had been working on finalizing a terrible research paper for uni. I say terrible, because the process was terrible, the content of the paper was amazing of course. However, said paper was due the day I was supposed to be in Russia. This was because, for some reason, past Lexi decided it was a good idea to schedule an EARLY plane flight to St. Petersburg on the last Friday of term. Maybe she just wasn't thinking, maybe she really wanted to get out of England, or maybe she just wanted to miss class. Either way, past Lexi screwed future Lexi and booked a plane at 6 am on that Friday (fully aware the Tube wouldn't be open yet then). So there I was, in the library at midnight, going off of only 4 hours of sleep from the night before and about 5 Costa coffees, trying to finalize this bane-of-my-existence research paper. Oh, and did I mention I hadn't packed yet? (Classic me). To top this situation all off, I had to catch the bus in two and a half hours since the Tube wouldn't open till my plane was to leave, and the bus ride to Heathrow was two hours long, putting me at the check-in a comfy 30 minutes before check-in closed. Plenty of time planned for Murphey.

Me with no sleep

With great joy and a few sharp words I submitted my paper and made the bus ride back home. I immediately packed, took a shower, and walked right back out of the door. By the grace of God, I just managed to cross the street to catch my first bus as it was pulling up. Then, through further miracles, made it to the second bus as it was pulling away. And I mean that literally. The bus was pulling away from the stop as I ran (clumsily with my luggage) up to it. In fact, the only reason I didn't miss that bus was because a woman much crazier than I am (I know, hard to believe right?) ran out into the street in front of the bus (not exaggerating) to stop it and beg to get on. So, of course, I followed suit and just made it on. Luckily it was about 3am, so not many other cars were on the road... The ensuing ride to the airport was long and boring and freezing as my body began to shut down in an effort to force me to sleep. Finally, we arrived on time and I got off at Terminal 5, where I've always gotten off at, because I thought that was the international terminal. I was wrong. I was supposed to be at Terminal 1- a 10 minute bus ride away. As soon as I realized my mistake I ran back outside (not a very easy thing to do in such a large airport and going off of no sleep) to just catch the same bus and driver headed back the other way. By this point the man had taken pity on this poor, lunatic of a girl and let me hitch a ride to Terminal 1 for free. Unfortunately for me, this put me behind schedule. Panicky, and still freezing, I ran into Terminal 1 and just made it into the queue for Swiss airways- and waited. Getting my boarding pass and luggage checked took forever! But a long wait, one cranky Swiss airlines employee, and an invasive security check later and I was at my gate.

Swiss Alps viewed from the plane!

They gave me chocolate!!!

At this point I still didn't believe this was all happening. Blame it on the 36 hours of coffee-fueled rampage, but it wouldn't actually hit me that I was going to Russia until day two of being IN Russia. As for the flights, they were pretty uneventful. I sat at the first gate long enough to message my family (who were just going to bed) and Cyurs (who was just getting up for the day). I managed about 30 minutes of sleep before landing in Zurich, where I walked off of the first plane and onto the next without pause (we were a little behind schedule). The second flight I got about an hour or so of sleep before landing.

St. Petersburg!

Finally! Saint Petersburg Russia!!!

If Russia is good for only one thing- it's living up to expectations. Within the first 10 minutes of landing, my stereotype of Russia being poorly organized and not well functioning was fulfilled. After sitting in park for a while, the pilot came over the intercom and informed us that we were waiting on the steps to arrive since we were being let off on the tarmac, and not at a gate. Then, almost as soon as the steps arrived, our buses that were to be transporting us (and that were there previously) had disappeared, causing us to have to wait for replacements. It was endlessly entertaining.

Caveat: This isn't to imply that Russians are lazy or incompetent people, far from it. It's just that, unlike the west, Russian society does only what is needed to accomplish a goal with little concern for repercussions, focusing on the immediate ends and not the means. Therefore, when given a task they will perform it when, and for as long as, it suits them which may lead to miss-communications and confusion at times.

After being packed into the sardine can that was the маршрутка (pron. Marshrootka, meaning- taxi-bus), I found myself staring down a harsh-looking customs woman who seemed way too interested in my passport for my liking. Not wanting to risk annoying her, though, I just stood there quietly awaiting judgment. Then, with a swoop of her hand, she stamped my visa and I was in! Excited to see Cyrus, and overjoyed at the prospect of being able to sleep (and stay in Russia), I scurried out of the dungeon-like customs booths to where the crowd of people were meeting their arrivals. As the automatic doors slid open I did a quick scan for him, half wanting him to surprise me, half wanting to just see him already.

But neither things happened. Nothing happened. He wasn't there. I panicked. I was sure I told him when I was getting in. How would I contact him? Where was I supposed to go? Was he ok? I walked towards the exits, pausing near a старбакс кофе (pron. Starbucks Coffee) to check for wifi- there was none. So I stood there, weighing my options. Just as I was about to scrounge up what courage I could muster on such a sleepy mind, two heavy hands grasped my shoulders and I turned around to see a smiling Cyrus- bandanna on and all. I hugged him excitedly as he lifted me up and explained that Russia had (unbeknownst to him) closed their old airport. So he went to where it was, only to be sent away without further instruction. He ended up asking several random Russians (a terrifying prospect when you can only understand most of what they're saying) where the new one was and had only just arrived. I didn't care though. I was just so relieved that he was there! And now I could switch off my brain and let him lead me around this foreign city like a lost puppy.

I don't remember much else from that day. I know we went to get food after checking into the hostel and that I was effectively useless. I also know I didn't sleep until the evening in an attempt to adjust quicker- making that at least 48 hours without sleep. I do remember that getting into the hostel was an effort. The entrance was a sketchy door off of the street with a number lock (so we had to wait for someone to go out to get in) that led to a stairway. The reception for the hostel was on the third floor, which is apparently common in Russia (it was this way in Moscow and the second St. P hostel as well). I also remember the next day, while I was still a bit jet-lagged, we went to the awesome Галерея (pron. Galereya) mall to look around. It was extravagant and as big as any western mall- something I haven't seen since Berlin (and even those weren't as nice). But what made me laugh was that on the way there we saw a man on a homemade motorcycle which was basically a bicycle with a motor somehow strapped up to it. Made my day. Typical Russia to have such crappy ghetto-like stuff surrounding these large priceless, prestigious landmarks.

The rest of the weekend was really relaxed as we were both officially on break. We didn't get into any real sight-seeing or adventures till later, but that is for the next post. I am tired of writing for now. But will be back with everything about St. P and Moscow after a bit. Keep checking back. :)