Russian Impressions

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It was a very odd flight from Frankfurt. We were up and down, left and right, diving and dashing through the clouds at 500 some odd miles per hour. As our Lufthansa flight began to descend out of the dense cloud coverage, my first impressions of Russia were formed. These five story Soviet-Era housing monsters dominated the skyline. It was as if this part of the world was frozen in the 60's. It seemed like an odd place, but I didn't judge it too harshly just yet.
The airport had that same communist feel too it...everything was shades of yellow and gray. I felt as if they didn't want us there. I waited patiently with my friends in the Customs line, chatting about the flight, how much we slept, yadda yadda. It was then my turn to go to the front of the line. But, its not like anywhere else where they announce loudly Next! , you were simply expected to know when it was your turn to go. Fortunatley, I was paying attention and got right to the line. I approached with a chipper, American smile on my face, passport with visa in hand, half expecting to get one back. I was quite wrong. I received a cold glare from the portly woman seated behind the Plexiglas, whose only gesture was for me to surrender the most important document I had in my possession. After about three minutes of an obnoxious amount of typing and stamping, I received that which was so important to me back. I peered inside, to see if all that hard work was for something. One stamp. Interesting.
After collecting my luggage, I strolled outside with the rest of the group, and something shocked me. This was the most desolate, dead land there could ever be. Death Valley has nothing on Russia. Everything was a shade of gray, the grass was dead, the people looked angry and depressed. Oh, what a time I was slated to have in this land. We pulled away in the Irizar motorcoach, only to see the juxtaposition of Soviet era factories with billboards for Rolex standing near their gates. It was definitely a culture shock.
We were then treated to a visit of the Peter and Paul Fortress, which is a fairly stunning piece of architecture and an amazing Orthodox church. Also, might I add, the burial place of Anastasia. So, kudos Mister Disney, for resurrecting the dead. But I guess lies are better than the truth. This didn't leave a terribly large impression on me, So I'm going to overlook it almost entirely.
Our Hotel. Wow. What a place. From the outside, it seemed like a tenement that would make someone from Southern California (No offense, friends from SoCal) feel like puking. It, in the words of Mr. Bigglesworth, looked ...Like a bathroom shower.... Some business hotel. They had decks, but they were rusted through and covered in assorted Russian liquors and vodkas, as well as the occasional spoon and plate of seven year old caked on food. Ick. Of course, we hadn't walked into the hotel yet. On the inside, it was a lavish, almost American-esque hotel. It featured a small gift shop, and a passing Restaurant.
I was lucky. There were two of us in a room, but it was a small suite. It featured a living room (which Nick stayed in on the couch, the little guy), two bathrooms, a large bed (mine, of course) and a shower. I even had a door to the living room, so at night I would shut it and pretend I was home, by myself. I was the only one to get a room this nice.
One of the first things I did when I arrived (in the few hours before dinner) was to take a shower. Mine had an actual door, unlike most did. Nor did mine flood. I had a good, relaxing shower, washing off the 10 or so hours spend on planes and the 5 or 6 spend at airports and watching it zip down the drain. As I learned later, there were about four or five rooms whose showers and sinks belched out a lovely brown water-like substance. Mmm...what a lovely way to be introduced to a country.
The dinner was uneventful, grey pork and white rice on a stark white plate with not nearly enough coke. Oh well. This awful excuse for food would be a sign of things to come. We began to worship the god that was the Statoil convenience store, and dread the upcoming meal like a vampire dreads the dawn.
Ah, the end of the long day. I watched a horribly dubbed version of Family Guy, and drifted off into Dream Land. Ahh...the adventures we were about to have.

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