Originally, I was going to gloss over the actual travel portion of the last few days, but I figured that an at least brief description of everything would be a good thing to do, so here we go:
Everything was running smoothly until I got to the airport, where all of American Airlines' ticket booths are self-service. After waiting so long that the ticket booth reset itself, nearly having a mini-meltdown (not my proudest moment) and starting all over again, I finally checked in my luggage and went through the arduous process of getting through airport security. I was dressed in what I thought were comfortable clothes: jeans, a button up shirt, a trench coat, and a new pair of European style sneakers. (Spoiler alert: breaking in shoes can be painful.)
Even with security, I still got into the airport by 6:00, and after having learned by experience, I realized it would be a good idea to make sure that everything was correct with my tickets. (For those who weren't there, last time I forgot to check until the last minute, tickets that were supposed to take me to Indiana in fact ended in Bloomington, Illinois-- it was a painful but helpful learning experience.) Upon doing so, I realized that my flight, which was supposed to leave at 8:15, was now pushed back to 9:25, meaning that we would land at 3:25 and my next flight would leave at... 3:45. Great. I picked up all of my stuff, and headed over to American Airlines' customer support, so I could get a different ticket to Chicago.
Travel tip:
When I was younger, I thought that this was ridiculous and embarrassing, but this trick has saved my life three times now, so do not scoff. Whenever you're traveling, if you have plain black baggage, put brightly colored pieces of duct tape on it. It'll make your baggage far easier to see, and if, for example, you realize after you've checked in that you need to change flights, that tape will make it so that they find your otherwise ordinary black luggage quickly enough that you can make a 7:00 flight to Chicago, even when you changed flights at 6:30. I'm not saying that's exactly what will happen every time, but... It has happened twice, now. Just saying.
Back to the narrative:
I was the third person on the wait list for the 7:00 flight to Chicago, the two before me being a married Finnish couple who had the exact same problem that I did. (In fact, the lady who was helping me with my new ticket arrangements got the idea for that flight from the attendant who was helping the Finnish couple; I don't know why I find this so interesting, but there it is.) We made it on to the 7:00 Chicago flight at the last possible minute, and I realized just how lucky we were that it was American Airlines' fault that our other flight was late; had it not been, there was a huge line because of the Lufthansa strikes, and we would've been at the very bottom of the list instead of at the very top and happily boarding the plane.
One three hour flight later, we landed, and as I was walking out of the plane, I realized that my feet were hurting terribly. It took a little while to understand why, but suddenly I realized that my new shoes were giving me blisters on my heels, because it was the first time I was breaking them in.
Travel tip:
Don't wear anything you've never worn before while traveling. I did this with all the clothes I wore during this trip-- my jeans, my blouse, my shoes-- and the shoes blistered, the pants slightly sank down every time I sat, and because of how I was wearing my carry-on (it was a post-style bag, which meant it had one strap and I wore it on the opposite side of my neck), my bag was perpetually unbuttoning my blouse, meaning that one time I glanced down and realized that my blouse was unbuttoned down past my bra. If you don't already know how your clothes are going to fit and interact with each other, then don't wear it while traveling. It doesn't necessarily ruin your trip, but it does make it uncomfortable when every time you walk by something reflective, you have to make sure all your buttons are in their proper place.
Back to narrative:
After I limped over to Starbucks and bought coffee, I uneventfully waited for my next flight, got on, and realized that sometimes I shouldn't joke about my luck, just because if I do, my luck strikes again. I really wanted a window seat-- I always want a window seat-- but because I did buy my tickets-- what, three days before the flight? Four?-- I got an aisle seat. However, it had originally looked like I got a window seat, because my seat was G, and how many more seats could there be past G?
As it turns out, this was one of those monster planes that had three columns, each with three seats (meaning nine seats per row). Moreover, even though the flight was going to be "short" ("Only eight hours," as the pilot said), they still had enough time to show two movies and multiple episodes of various sitcoms. This didn't matter to me too much, as I was asleep for a good portion of the flight, or at least trying to be; the girl sitting next to me kept encroaching my space, like putting her feet on my carry-on when she was using her boyfriend as a pillow, or shoving her pillow in my face. There was one time when I unintentionally kicked her, because I wanted to rest my feet on my carry-on, and she was already using my carry-on as a footrest; after that, she more or less left the space in front of my seat alone.
After sleeping for a good four hours, I finally was awake enough to look around. I was dying to see what was going on outside-- were we over the ocean? Were we flying over Norway, or Sweden? Every single window-- every single one-- was closed. There was absolutely no way for me to look. When one couple finally decided to open the window (it was the second sunrise I had seen in two days), the guy who was sitting in front of the window decided to put his feet on his chair and cover about half the window with his knees.
When we finally landed, though, Finland was absolutely gorgeous. Miles upon miles upon miles of deep, dark green trees. The view was absolutely breathtaking, even if the sky was gray and cloudy. We landed a ways away from the airport, and when we got out of the plane, there was a bus waiting for us. The temperature was a balmy 9 degrees Celsius, or 48 degrees Fahrenheit.
Helsinki is a very interesting, if tiny airport. There, you can buy real diamond jewelry, real leather goods, Gucci, Prada, top-of-the-line cosmetics, high quality liquor and chocolate; and yet, if you ask, there is nowhere that they sell band-aids. They have a duty-free zone, and because in the past, people walked into the airport, bought things, and left, they now ask for your boarding pass every time you want to buy something. It was here in the airport that I saw the stereotype of the Russian woman-- buying the most expensive and stylish thing, but not with her money-- was absolutely, 100% true. As I was standing there, a Russian woman (who already had a stylish, large purse on her person) was looking at a Gucci snakeskin bag. The Russian man she was with didn't look enthused about the bag, but still said that if she wanted it, she could get it. She decided to get it, and then walked out of the store, carrying a purse on each shoulder with one having been charged on the Russian man's credit card. I don't even want to know how much that purse must've cost-- I was looking at scarves, just because I thought it might be cool to have a Finnish scarf, and even the simplest scarf was 45 euros, much less a snakeskin Gucci purse.
There was one hilarious moment, which has nothing to do with anything but was still ridiculously funny: I was signing up for FinnAir's rewards program, and I was talking with this Asian representative of FinnAir. She asked me where I'm from, which seemed like a perfectly normal question until she said, "Oh! That explains why your English is so good, I was going to say that you speak English very fluently. And you have such a good accent!" If I could do it over, I would say that I was from somewhere really random, like Ethiopia, and then seriously nod and look proud that someone thought my English was good-- considering, you know, it's my first language and all that.
Then, while I was waiting for the last flight, I befriended an elderly Russian woman who lives in Chicago and worked in the US. For once, I wasn't the one dominating the conversation; it was mostly her speaking Russian, and me listening. When she had to go see if she actually had a ticket onto the plane, another Russian girl-- one who had just walked up at the end of my conversation with the other woman-- started talking with me as well, and we went upstairs and had tea together. It was quite fun; we talked about the differences between Russian culture and the rest of the world, including dating in Russia and fashion. She had a French boyfriend, and she said she didn't know whether or not she wanted to stay with him, because she was used to the attention that Russian men give their women. She thought it was strange that her French boyfriend wasn't interested in marrying any time soon, that he didn't like wandering St. Petersburg just to look at the buildings. She talked about how Europeans would come to both Russia and Thailand looking for wives, though Thailand was different because girls would marry to provide for their families. And it turns out that everything I thought about Russian dress-- where I was constantly getting new things as well-fitting and fashionable as I could-- was 100% accurate. In fact, once in Russia, I always looked at the shoes that women wore, and 80% of them wore heels. If they weren't wearing heels, they were wearing flats.
Anyways, I befriended another Russian girl who wanted to practice her English (she had family in the US, and she was afraid she'd forget how to speak English by the time she had to come back the next summer), and then finally got on the plane to St. Petersburg. I was so excited, because I finally had a window seat... And then, I found out the flight was only 35 minutes long. 35 minutes! Why even bother having a flight when it's 35 minutes?
On the flight, I sat next to a Finnish man whose job not only took him to Russia, but also between Serbia and Egypt to sell wood. He helped me with the Russian immigration card, and stayed with me through Customs. The Customs line was especially long because there was a massive influx of Americans, all of them coming to ride on this one riverboat cruise starting in St. Petersburg and ending in Helsinki; it must've taken at least half an hour to get through Customs, and then after we had both gone through, the Finnish man and I walked over to what was left of the baggage from our flight. It seemed like he would've stayed longer and tried to help me a bit more if he didn't already have a ride waiting outside; and if he had tried to help me, he would've ended up being there for two extra hours because of the giant bureaucracy that is the Russian airport.
To explain: Somewhere down the line, my baggage was lost. Remember that I said that the tape saved my life three times? This was the third.
The first time I tried to get through, there was a really convoluted form that I had to fill out. Basically, it was supposed to be what items were in my luggage, how many, and what they cost. However, the example form was wrong (as I found out today, when I had to completely redo the form), and the Russians are very, very strict about their paperwork: one mistake, and they force you to do the form completely over again. I had to do this form 5 times in all before they accepted the form and let me leave with my baggage.
Anyways, it was complicated enough for me, even when I spoke a bit of Russian and I was with a woman who had lived in Russia all her life, who also couldn't entirely understand what they wanted. Needless to say, it was nigh impossible for the American couple ahead of me who also lost their baggage and didn't speak a word of Russian. They were there for the riverboat cruise-- of course-- and had absolutely no idea what these Russian bureaucrats were asking for. For some odd reason, the lady at the security gate asked me if I spoke English-- note, not if I spoke Russian, but if I spoke English-- and then ordered me to translate for them, explaining what she wanted in very fast Russian. Suffice it to say, my Russian was put to use early on. Even with me trying to help the Americans understand, they still had to redo the form two or three times, culminating with the lady rolling her eyes, ripping up their last attempt, filling out most of the form for them, giving it to them to sign, and then waving them through. I gave her my form, she said it was okay, stamped it, gave it to me to take back to the Lost and Found office, and then I could finally-- FINALLY-- leave.
My poor host father had been waiting for me in the lobby for about two hours, without a word as to where I would be. I tried calling him while in line (between gargled attempts to help the American couple), but my phone (as I quickly found out) can actually only make emergency calls now that I'm in Russia. Apologizing as best I could, I took the five red flowers he had brought for me (now drooping from the wait), we got in his car, and then we headed out of the airport.
I didn't last very long once we got home: I still hadn't taken a shower in then 2 days, yet couldn't take a shower (even if I had the necessary toiletries, like shampoo or soap, I didn't have any clean clothes to wear); I had hardly slept (because even when I did sleep, it wasn't very well); and when I wanted to plug in my computer and check my email, I realized that I hadn't packed any converters or adapters in my carry-on bag due to space limitations.
Travel Tip:
If you're going to a foreign country, don't forget to take adapters or converters with you in your carry-on. Even if you don't think you're going to need it, usually you will, even if it is to use your laptop in an international airport or charge your phone. Additionally, even if it seems stupid at the time, bringing a tiny version of any toiletry is invaluable, plus an additional change of clothes. This is the first time they ever lost my suitcase, and it left me incapacitated. Up until a little bit earlier today (literally, one or two hours ago), I was wearing the same pair of clothes that I had been wearing for (at that point) three days; my hair was disgusting, I felt like a total mess, and upon seeing all these young Russian women looking beautiful and well-put-together, it was crushing to be so out of it and disgusting. So, if you can avoid such an experience simply by bringing an itty-bitty bottle of shampoo and conditioner, and a shlubby shirt and pants, then do so, because the alternative (while, again, not unbearable) is very unpleasant.
Back to narrative:
So, to catch you up, I went to sleep at 8 and woke up at 1. I got up a couple of times in the morning-- once at 9, once at 11-- but I didn't see anyone in the apartment, so I went back to sleep. When I went in the kitchen at 1, I finally met my host mom, and she told me that the airport had called her and told her that they had my baggage. I went back to the airport, fought with the form again, and we took my luggage, came back home, and I finally had my first shower in Russia. It was glorious, though the water heater scares me a little bit; I'm afraid that if I try to get the water to be too warm, I'm going to accidentally burn down the entire apartment, because the water heater is a gas heater that is literally IN the shower, right next to you when you're taking a shower. That part was a little bit terrifying, I have to admit.
After dinner, I got to have dinner with the other American girl who lives in the apartment. She came here for the Smolny program, for both the summer and this semester, so she's been here for two months. She, our host mom and I had a Georgian wine (which is supposed to be one of the best in the world, but which didn't really taste like anything to me-- then, I was also able to drink it without feeling the alcohol), and then I returned to my room, pulled out my adapter, and made my first post in Russia. There are a lot of interesting stories my host mom told me today, things from the war, the history of different buildings... but those deserve a different post, posts with pictures to show the beauty of what I'm talking about, and to show what it is. So, this ridiculously long post is all I have for tonight. I'm sure I'll have much more for tomorrow.
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