It's 3:45 am, but my biological clock is on PDT, and refuses to believe the dark skies. The moon has been my watchfull companion three times already this trip, but she was waxing half, and will have set by now. Soon even, the sun will emerge.

I can't sleep, with this narrative running circles in my mind, I decide I might as well take advantage of the peace, so I tip-toe into the kitchen, start water boiling for tea, and start to write.

My journey started with a two and a half hour ferry ride from Victoria B.C. to Seattle WA. I took a taxi right to SeaTac, and arrived about 10pm. After an over priced under quality muffin, I found a dark, less noisy patch of carpeted floor, and tried to get a bit of sleep. Call me cheap, my spending prioirities have changed since seeing life in Russia.

I never really did sleep, as I can't get Lilia out of my mind. Not that I really want to. It's been nine months since I've seen her. I can't belive I'm going to see her again in a few days. I finally got up at about 6, and checked in. I was happy to be free of my two larger bags. I decided to fill my luggage with gifts for an orphanage in Yoshkar Ola. My luggage was a bit heavy, and I still had Moscow to negotiate. At least I wan't carrying 40kg of books, like last time. For now, the baggage handlers could have fun abusing a duffel bag full of stuffed animals.

I fly out on Delta to JFK at 8:10 in the morning. The vegetarian breakfast was atrocious. 'Nuff said.

At JFK I shaved, washed my feet in the sink, and changed my socks. I got some strange looks, but I didn't care. Nobody seemed to mind the guy smoking durring the 'no smoking' PA. I returned his dirty look for good measure. Later another american said I should have carried a small blanket and a compass, so I could find Mecca, and pray.

The 10 hour Delta flight to Moscow was no better than the SEA-JFK leg. I was looking forward to the movie, 'Meet Joe Black'. So it got panned, at, at least it would kill three hours. However, it also seemed to star Val Kilmer, and I could only hear, not see, Anthony Hopkins. After several video swaps between 'At First Sight', and Joe Black, they switch to 'Stepmom', and add that soundtrack into the cacauphony for good measure. I give up and try to sleep.

I don't know what time it was when I saw the moon. It was bathed in the long red rays of the rising sun- a sight I can only guess can be seen from the air at extreme latitutes. In any case, I am too tired and awestruck to think about it, so I just enjoy.

We arrive in Moscow on time at 11:30am. The arrival time was the main reason I chose this flight, as it allows me to catch the 5:15pm train to Yoshkar Ola, without spending the night in Moscow.

Customs was a breeze. I was a bit worried about all the stuff for the orphanage, but the only question was "For bagz, wan, too, tree?" I pulled my fourth bag out of the x-ray machine, where it had gotten stuck, "adin yeshyo, chitirye", and I was on my way. I wonder if they were even watching the x-ray monitor.

I quickly spotted an exchange booth to my left, and changed $50. I decided to not change more, not knowing how volatile the ruble was, or how good the exchange was. I would later discover that I should have changed more, since rubles were in short supply in Yoshkar Ola.

My next task was to be my hardest to date. I now had to run the gauntlet of Vultu- I mean taxi drivers. My big mistake was aksing one, out of curiosity, 'skolka v rechnoi vokzal?' (the nearest mestro station). He knew Rechnoi wasn't my final destination, and pressed me for 'khotel' (hotel). I finally told him Kazansky vokzal, and he said 'pyat dyesat dollar'. Kind of what I expected, but a long ways from what this cheap American was ready to spend. I told him I would take the avtobus, and he proceeded to do everything he could to convince me that I couldn't take my luggage on. I knew better.

He finally gave up on me at the sliding glass door, and I headed out through the small parking lot. The road is in the shape of a U, cars entering from the left, and leaving to the right. A little ways out on the right, there's a shuttle bus. Which holds about 10. And has a sign over it saying "Rechnoi Vokzal" (in cyrillic, of course. If you're going to Russia, learn cyrillic).

The driver was going to put my duffel bag on top of somebody else's bag, next to his seat, but the female owner of the first bag let loose with a long stream of very determined Russian (not that Russian ever sounds less than determined). The driver relented, and we shoved my duffel in the back along with the spare tire. Good thing the stuffed animals didn't mind getting squished. Back at the door to the bus, a babooshka was trying to climb on. With only one seat left, the driver told her to get off, and said something about this not being a taxi, and she should take the avtobus. I think she had been trying to get a free ride. He wasn't about to lose a paying customer to charity though. I brought my second large bag on with me, and left it in the isle, along with someone else's. I kept my pack and camera bag on my lap.

The driver started to collect the fare, and everyone held out 10 ruble notes. I got one out, and was ready to give him a second for the baggage, but he didn't ask for it. For fellow cheapskates who are counting- 10 rubles is less than 50 cents. Inflation might be high, but it hasn't kept up with the sliding ruble.

As we depart in typical breakneck, pothole dodging fashion, I take my first deep breath of this trip, and I'm greeted by the unmistakeable scent of Russia. It's a mix of dill, benzine, and a thousand other mysteries. Smell evokes deep dark things within us, and Russia evokes something deep within me.

Upon arrival at Rechnoi Vokzal, a guy is happy to help me get my bags off the shuttlebus, until he realizes I'm not looking for a taxi. I look around for the distinctive metro M, but don't see it. I finally ask a young zhenshina in a stall, and she points, "Tam". Of course. I should have looked for the large crowd, all acting like college students in a 'stuff the Beattle' contest.

My Russian assertiveness training from my last trip lay dormant. Fighting through a herd of people at the Metro is as hard a lesson as being tossed into the pool as a young boy. You learn to push, or you drown in people.

I discover yet another mistake of from the Delta Moscow guide. They don't use jitons for the metro anymore. I had a few from my last trip, and I stood there, in front of the turnstiles, like a deer caught in headlights, looking for the slot. There were only card swipers. I turn and walk to the kassa and show her my jiton. Nyet, she shakes her head. The sign in the window says cards are 4 rubles per ride. I ask for 5, and pull out two 10 ruble notes, but she gives me 5 back in change. I guess they are only 3 rubles if you buy more than one.

I head back to the turnstile, and the baboshka comes out of her box, and starts jabbering at me. She indicates my duffel back, takes my card, swipes it twice, and hands it back. She then motions me to go around. Ok, so my luggage is an extra 3 rubles.

Once you get to a Metro station in Moscow, you can go pretty much anywhere. Again, knowing cyrillic is a big help. And if you can actually understand the PA in the train, you're off to the races. I found I could, if I knew what I was listening for.

I had to get out my metro map at the Beloruskaya (where I changed from the green line to the circle line) but managed allright. Total cost to get from Sheremtevo to Kazansky, 16 rubles. Total time was about 2 hours.

I took the wrong exit at Komsomolskaya, and had to walk a bit farther to Kazansky, but it wasn't bad. There are three train stations all in the same area, and underground passages, so you don't have to deal with traffic. Good thing, being a pedestrian in Russia can be dangerous if you are the slightest bit jet lagged.

My first goal at Kazansky was to find the 'Kamera Khraneeneeya' (bagage check). General advice, they always seem to be underground. I kept my camera bag and pack, and checked my two larger bags. I think it was 14 rubles. I wasn't really worried about theft, but I did have everything I NEEDED in my pack. I had a copy of my visa and passport in each of my four bags.

I now set off to find food for the train ride. I had asked the list for advice on this, but I should have remembered that anything worth buying, and most things not, can be had within 300 metres of a train station. Put three train stations together, and you have everything from lingerie to Sony Playstations. I got some bread, cheese and water. The zhenshina who sold me the cheese was pretty disgusted that I only wanted 100 grams, and made a big deal out of it. Customer service is always so delightful in Russia. At least she sold it to me, unlike the zhenshina I tried to buy a sprite from. She would have been happy to ignore me all day if I hadn't gotten rather assertive about the buying process.

I was feeling a little aprehensive about the train trip. Lilia's mother had gotten me a train ticket as a Russian citizen, and instructed me in email to not speak to anyone, and try to look Russian. I can pass for Russian better than most Americans, but that isn't saying much. I was wearing Jeans, and runners, and a pullover, and I stuck out like a sore thumb. I had lots of time, so I took a walk back the stalls in the underground walkway, and looked for something a little more Russian. I finally settled on a FILA tracksuit, for 320 rubles.

I went back to Kazansky, and changed in the washrooms. That was quite a feat, since you really don't want anything to touch the floor in there. I then went back outside to the plastic porta potties to actually go to the bathroom. There were much more pleasent. Now looking as Russian as I could, although my beard was still a giveaway, I sat at waited for the train from Yoshkar Ola.

Lilia didn't know what track it would be on, so I just kept watching the board, and waiting. When it finally showed up, I hurried down to the kamera khraneeneeya, and got my other two bags. When I got back up to the main level, I saw the conductor that Lilia had described looking around frantically. I walked up and introduced myself, and we headed for her wagon. She didn't know any English, so she had to figure out what Russian I understood, and mime the rest. I finally figured out that the wagon she put me on was hers, but wasn't the one my ticket was for. She put me in her compartment, and told me to wait. I drowsed off, and a while later, she returned, all smiles. She put me into an empty compartment. I finally figured out that she had upgraded me to first class, and I needed to give her an extra 200 rubles. The original second class ticket had been about 160, and the first class was about 330. I didn't ask about the extra 30 rubles. The foreign price would have been over 1000. I actually would have been happy to pay the foreign price, and not had the worry (I'm only selectively cheap), but Lilia's mother would have none of it.

The bill settled, she closed and locked the door behind her, and left me to finally sleep.

I awoke hours later, to realize that I was covered with a blanket, and there was a pillow under my head.

Trip 2 Index

Part 2