Russia Breaks My Brain
I don't understand this place, I just live here.
#10: Hiatus
January 24, 2004
Hey, remember me? The guy in Russia? I?m still here despite having not written to anyone since last year. So, in true procrastinator style, it?s time to catch up, and cram in a whole bunch of holiday fun while I can still remember any of it.
Our story begins way back, in December, 2003. The holiday season was fast approaching, and like good Americans all around the world, I was shopping. For some sort of bizarre Russian version of Christmas you ask? Nope, because I was skipping out of here and heading back to the US to soak up some, uh, americanness I guess, for a couple of weeks. There were tacos to be eaten, sunlight to be seen, and cable tv to be absorbed into. Naturally, as has been the rule for the past 5 months, not much played out the way I expected it, and I really can?t even blame Russia for this one.
I left Russia for New York on Aeroflot Airlines, which heralds back from the Soviet days, which is obvious when looking at a number of planes in their fleet. Fortunately, not my planes though. They?ve been taking big steps to modernize the company (teaching flight attendants to smile, buying new planes, etc.) to keep up with international standards, and I?d say they were pretty successful. Hoping from St. Petersburg to Moscow went fine, with the only glitch coming from taxi drivers in Moscow.
Ok, I wasn?t taking a taxi from Moscow to New York. I only needed to go from the domestic terminal to the international terminal, which is about 5 minutes away by car. For this arduous excursion, I was quoted prices ranging from $75 to $10. Finally, after a bit of pointless arguing (I think my lack of vocabulary somehow indicated that I was rich and stupid), I found the little bus that got me there for a mere $ 0.75. So I?d say my Russian classes have been at least moderately successful.
The flight from Moscow to New York was fine, albeit 10 hours on a plane with no movies or magazine (in English- my Russian?s not that good yet) got a little dull. But everything was on time, and the service was nice. There was at least one English-speaking flight attendant, even on the domestic flight (although I was able to ask for my food in Russian. ?Fish sandwich, please!?) There weren?t any stupid delays until I got back to the U.S., where traveling proved to be 10 times more ridiculous than in Russia.
When going from New York to New Mexico, I was waiting in La Guardia Airport for my flight on Frontier Airlines, when the following message was broadcast over the intercom:
?We are sorry to report that there will be a delay with this flight, as the aircraft has a flat tire, and we need time to locate a spare.?
Evidently, they don?t stock parts in the second largest airport in New York City. Another tire had to be driven up from JFK, at which point they announced:
?Ladies and gentlemen, we are happy to report that we now have a replacement tire for the plane, and as soon as we find the jack we will begin the repair, and then be on our way.?
At this point, I really began to wonder what country I was in. Somehow having to obtain special visas to temporarily leave Russia seemed like a breeze compared to needing to re-buy a ticket that FedEx lost, missing my connection in Denver and spending the night there before flying to Santa Fe in a prop-plane worthy of Aeroflot?s Hall of Aviation History, being searched multiple times at the same airport by different security guards, and not even being able to enjoy my complementary in-flight peanuts.
Not that I don?t normally look forward to my peanuts. It?s just that while home in Santa Fe, looking forward to tacos, chips, enchiladas, hell, even Enchiritos?, I had to have my wisdom teeth removed in a hurry, which meant no solid much less crunchy foods for most of the visit. So instead I was dining on lots of yogurt, ice cream and other soft mushy things very similar to what I thought I?d left behind in Russia. So no Frontier Restaurant, but a lot of Yoplait. Russia?s grip on me was tighter than I?d expected.
Still, it was really good to go home for Christmas. Seeing the sun for more than a couple hours a day was great. Seeing everyone and being able to talk to them was better. And cable tv was of course all I could expect and more. (Did you know that cell-phones don?t really need to be turned off at the gas station, but that you should be more concerned about static electricity from sliding out of your car instead?)
I returned to Russia safely on the 29th, without incident and with a suitcase full of salsas and spices. The city was gearing up for the holidays still, since December 25th is just another day in Russia. The main event (sort of) is New Years, which proved to be a delightful amalgamation of our New Years, our Christmas, and maybe even some Independence Day. But that?s coming in the next email, probably within a week. (really!)
Paka,
-Angry Giant
Hey, remember me? The guy in Russia? I?m still here despite having not written to anyone since last year. So, in true procrastinator style, it?s time to catch up, and cram in a whole bunch of holiday fun while I can still remember any of it.
Our story begins way back, in December, 2003. The holiday season was fast approaching, and like good Americans all around the world, I was shopping. For some sort of bizarre Russian version of Christmas you ask? Nope, because I was skipping out of here and heading back to the US to soak up some, uh, americanness I guess, for a couple of weeks. There were tacos to be eaten, sunlight to be seen, and cable tv to be absorbed into. Naturally, as has been the rule for the past 5 months, not much played out the way I expected it, and I really can?t even blame Russia for this one.
I left Russia for New York on Aeroflot Airlines, which heralds back from the Soviet days, which is obvious when looking at a number of planes in their fleet. Fortunately, not my planes though. They?ve been taking big steps to modernize the company (teaching flight attendants to smile, buying new planes, etc.) to keep up with international standards, and I?d say they were pretty successful. Hoping from St. Petersburg to Moscow went fine, with the only glitch coming from taxi drivers in Moscow.
Ok, I wasn?t taking a taxi from Moscow to New York. I only needed to go from the domestic terminal to the international terminal, which is about 5 minutes away by car. For this arduous excursion, I was quoted prices ranging from $75 to $10. Finally, after a bit of pointless arguing (I think my lack of vocabulary somehow indicated that I was rich and stupid), I found the little bus that got me there for a mere $ 0.75. So I?d say my Russian classes have been at least moderately successful.
The flight from Moscow to New York was fine, albeit 10 hours on a plane with no movies or magazine (in English- my Russian?s not that good yet) got a little dull. But everything was on time, and the service was nice. There was at least one English-speaking flight attendant, even on the domestic flight (although I was able to ask for my food in Russian. ?Fish sandwich, please!?) There weren?t any stupid delays until I got back to the U.S., where traveling proved to be 10 times more ridiculous than in Russia.
When going from New York to New Mexico, I was waiting in La Guardia Airport for my flight on Frontier Airlines, when the following message was broadcast over the intercom:
?We are sorry to report that there will be a delay with this flight, as the aircraft has a flat tire, and we need time to locate a spare.?
Evidently, they don?t stock parts in the second largest airport in New York City. Another tire had to be driven up from JFK, at which point they announced:
?Ladies and gentlemen, we are happy to report that we now have a replacement tire for the plane, and as soon as we find the jack we will begin the repair, and then be on our way.?
At this point, I really began to wonder what country I was in. Somehow having to obtain special visas to temporarily leave Russia seemed like a breeze compared to needing to re-buy a ticket that FedEx lost, missing my connection in Denver and spending the night there before flying to Santa Fe in a prop-plane worthy of Aeroflot?s Hall of Aviation History, being searched multiple times at the same airport by different security guards, and not even being able to enjoy my complementary in-flight peanuts.
Not that I don?t normally look forward to my peanuts. It?s just that while home in Santa Fe, looking forward to tacos, chips, enchiladas, hell, even Enchiritos?, I had to have my wisdom teeth removed in a hurry, which meant no solid much less crunchy foods for most of the visit. So instead I was dining on lots of yogurt, ice cream and other soft mushy things very similar to what I thought I?d left behind in Russia. So no Frontier Restaurant, but a lot of Yoplait. Russia?s grip on me was tighter than I?d expected.
Still, it was really good to go home for Christmas. Seeing the sun for more than a couple hours a day was great. Seeing everyone and being able to talk to them was better. And cable tv was of course all I could expect and more. (Did you know that cell-phones don?t really need to be turned off at the gas station, but that you should be more concerned about static electricity from sliding out of your car instead?)
I returned to Russia safely on the 29th, without incident and with a suitcase full of salsas and spices. The city was gearing up for the holidays still, since December 25th is just another day in Russia. The main event (sort of) is New Years, which proved to be a delightful amalgamation of our New Years, our Christmas, and maybe even some Independence Day. But that?s coming in the next email, probably within a week. (really!)
Paka,
-Angry Giant