The alarm blared early this morning, waking me from another dream about Valerie Bertinelli (just kidding, honey). I was not enthused about the day, for it meant saying goodbye to Jeff and Amy. Also, it meant enduring two rounds of Russian bureaucracy for the joy of 15 hours inside flying tin cans.
As we left the Cultural Center last night, we said goodbye to many new friends. I gave Igor my small English Bible, and left gifts for my translators. For Jeff and Amy, a leather-bound copy of Chekhov seemed appropriate.
At the airport in Tyumen, we discovered I lacked a registration paper proving I had spent two weeks there. Yes, foreigners must register with the government. Old habits die hard. Anyway, Jeff suggested this might be a problem in Moscow, and we had a “concerned moment”. We then remembered the internet kiosk in the Moscow airport, to which Jeff could email a scan of the form. Problem solved.
We gained two time zones from Tyumen to Moscow. The flight was fine, except that they served dinner food at 8:30 in the morning. From what I’ve learned, the idea of special foods for breakfast is quite foreign to Russians. In any case, my breakfast salmon was excellent.
As I write this, the Calvinist and I are waiting in the Moscow airport. I’ve just pulled him away from performing another embarrassing karaoke number at the bar. The man just loves Madonna. Who knew?
I am now psyching myself up for ten hours with my 6’4’’, 180 pound frame crammed inside an airline seat. Okay, I might have fudged the numbers a little. I’m only 6’3’’. I am reminding myself how many Saturdays I wished I had this much extra time.
So far it’s not working.
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