To Russia for love

Culture; it’s not always east to describe someone’s culture. Sure it’s easy to stereotype a group of people and generalise about a certain race. but how many people real get the “cultural thing” when it comes to travel.

I grew up never really understanding culture on an international level – let me explain that, what I mean is, living a such a mix of different ethnic people we all kind of blended our cultures together. Back when life was simple and the twin towers were standing. We never heard of terrorism. instead we were called little terrors when we helped ourselves to the odd potato or onion from the farmers fields.

So it comes now as no surprise that wanting to travel and really experience the true nature of someones culture is paramount when we travel these days.

I want to share the experience I had in Russia in 1997. I was real green to travel back then. I had absolutely no idea about Russia except that Elena and her son were waiting for me. I had no money to travel, so working 3 jobs around the clock I raised some money and took a loan to go. I was so naive about paperwork and thought that when I was asked to get a Visa for Russia I went to the local Bank to apply. I felt so stupid having the teller advise me to see a travel agent.

I knew NOTHING about Russia except it was cold, Moscow was the capital and it was a communist country. Mafia was everywhere and it was a very dangerous place to visit. Still what did I have to lose?

The first time on jet is an experience and I event now after so many flights will always remember Korean Air’s good looking hostesses and the fact that alcohol was included in my ticket price! Elena and I always notice their powder blue aircraft and Pepsi like logo as we race through airports and remember our first international flights.

Arriving into Sheremetyevo International Airport (Moscow) was crazy. I remember I took this huge bag that was overweight full of stuff that, looking back now I really didn’t need. I took my army boots thinking that it’s late October and it’s going to be cold. I soon learnt that steel caped boots are not a good idea in snow, talk about freeze you toes off literally! Just as well Elena’s father was the same size foot as I had no use for them back in New Zealand he was please as punch to have a new pair of boots for the summer garden (but I’m getting ahead of myself).

After finding my bag and staring into the cold and unfriendly uniformed customs officers eyes I knew I was in a different world from my own. It was as if she knew why I was visiting Russia, like so many western men before me. She stamped my passport whit such a whack as if venting her frustration at the situation. I did not smile I grabbed my papers and was guided through a set of huge glass doors into a sea of faces calling to loved ones in a foreign language. The sound of non-English calling was baffling.

“VAYNE – VAYNE” – I turned and there she was. Denim full length skirt, heavy brown leather overcoat down to her knees and fury hat. Huge smiles and blue eyes. No hugs no kisses just a sense of urgency to get my bag to the little blue Lada waiting on the apron out side. People were everywhere. The driver was every bit the Russian Wrestler, only retired and all the muscle now turned to fat. with the driver seat missing and replaced by a beer crate I strapped myself in and took sneak peaks across the car to Elena. She was checking me our too and I caught the occasional smile.

My Uncle had recently married to a Russian lady (also called Elena) and her sister had a flat in Aviamotornaya, 3 stops from the ring on the yellow line of Moscow Metro. Galina lived in a 3 bedroom flat with two other families as property was expensive in Moscow and one room was all she and many other Muscovite’s could afford. So there we were three strangers sharing a room 3m x 5m  real close! With shared Kitchen and bathroom I was ushered quietly off to the bathroom to find an old claw foot cast iron bath and basin. covered with light green tile from the 30’s and a hose attached  to the taps as a makeshift shower and some strange water heater contraption on the wall, Elena lit the gas and made a hasty retreat. A few moments later presto hot water, primitive by my western standards but bloody relaxing and after a long directs flight with no stopovers it was just what I needed.

Tea and a selection of breads with Russian Soup was all I could stomach and settling in for the night the girls topped and tailed in a sofa bed and I sprawled out on a camp stretcher with my feet two inches from the cast iron boiler heater that knew only one temperature – scalding!

This was it, I made it….. I was in Russia