M-whY

I'm getting better at reading the Cyrillic alphabet. I can now tell my bars from my restaurants, coffee shops from cafes. I won't walk into a supermarket looking for a haircut, nor expect to find groceries in a salon. In fact, I can transliterate most street names now, though pronouncing them is a different story altogether. It's actually kind of fun, though I'd get carried away a couple times. For example, when I saw a sign "BEHAPPY" and spent a few seconds wondering what the hell a "venarru" could be.

From Nevsky Prospekt, I just picked a direction and walked. You can't go two blocks without coming across some sort of landmark. St. Isaac's Cathedral, Birzhevaya Place, a guy on a horse. I saw newlywed's celebrating their big day, cops patting down motorists they had pulled over. Lunch was some samsa, a triangular shaped bread stuffed with what I think was ground beef. If it wasn't such a shitty day out, I might've tried covering as much ground as possible on my last day in Russia, but like I've said, pictures on days like these never turn out very good.

The afternoon off would do my knee good anyways, which was aching and just begging for rest. Daylight frittered away while I lounged in a coffee shop. When it got dark, I returned to my homestay and picked up my belongings. "Balticskaya metro," Svetlana, my hostess, reminding me where my bus left from. I was there plenty early, which turned out to be rather inconvenient. I was expecting a full blown bus station, instead, all I found was a turnaround where city buses made stops at. Was this really where I'm supposed to be?

The type of people loitering about weren't exactly the kind you'd approach and ask directions from. And from personal experience, it's rare to find someone who speaks english in Russia anyways. I had a little over two hours to kill before the bus was scheduled to depart, if indeed this was where it departed from. Finding the Eurolines sign was reassuring, though where was the bus and all the other passengers? As strict as Russian immigration is, the last thing I want to do is overstay my visa.

T-minus 20 minutes, and other people hauling luggage began to show up. Comfort in numbers I guess, even if I had no idea if they were going the same way as I. Not until moments before departure time did the Eurolines vehicle finally appear. It was sold out, and I was unfortunate enough to be seated behind a man who hadn't showered in a week and reeked of alcohol. Falling asleep required effort; I've grown accustomed to sleeper berths and sleeping upright took some getting used to. And when I did manage to doze off, I was woken up at 3:00am for the border crossing. Groggily, I trudged into the building and had immigration stamp my departure stamp. On the other side, I waited as everyone else and their luggage went through customs as well...

Wait. Everyone else and their luggage! Crap, my backpack was still in the baggage compartment! I rushed to the window and saw customs personnel searching the bus. From my angle, I couldn't see if my stuff was still there. And I couldn't really do anything about it; Everyone was locked inside until all passengers had cleared customs. In my mind, I went over the worst scenario: What exactly have I lost? My laptop was on me, as was my camera. Obviously I had my passport, and my money. Just clothes, I concluded. An nuisance, but not the end of the world.

Well, all worries turned out to be for naught, because miraculously, my backpack was still there, sitting by itself underneath the bus when we were finally through. Soon it was surrounded by other suitcases, and I thanked my lucky stars that I had dodged a bullet. Back on board, everyone returned to their same seats, me behind that foul smelling man, and we sped into the night, westwards into Estonia.

Thanks to everyone for their support and comments! Knowing people are reading keeps me motivated to continue the updates!