Chapter 1: The departure, flight and arrival in Russia

July 15, 2002

First Week: The Wonders of St. Petersburg

As the weeks approached the departure date for my trip, I felt more and more nervous. I knew this was a venture into the unknown, and that anything could happen. The uncertainty of it all made me feel anxious, especially since I was going to be in a foreign country where all the rules I knew didn't apply. I started packing a week before my departure. The day before my departure, I spent the whole day packing. It ended up taking much longer than I thought, since I kept looking to see what I missed. In fact, it took up the whole night til dawn, so I did not even get any sleep before the flight. The next morning, my parents drove me to the Seattle Airport. I was to fly to Chicago first on United, then transfer planes and take Luftansa to Frankfurt, Germany. From there, I would transfer to another Luftansa plane and head to St. Petersburg, Russia.

During the flight to Chicago, I became so nervous that I kept asking myself "I can't believe I'm really going to Russia for real! What am I doing? Am I crazy? This is so unorthodox. I'm going to a foreign unknown country where anything can happen! It's a voyage into the unknown, and I'll have to trust and hope that a higher power will be watching over me!" Still, I kept wondering if all this was a big mistake. I knew it wasn't and that I had made the right decision, but human nature and the fear of the unknown kept putting these doubts in me. I tried to keep myself occupied by reading my travel guide most of the time. Near the end of the flight, as I went to the bathroom, I noticed a sexy young white girl that was all arms and legs sitting my herself. After mustering much courage, I sat next to her and asked if I could sit here and hang out, and she said "sure". I tried to make conversation, but after a while, she asked me to leave and I did so, thinking "I'm glad I'll be getting away from these snotty prudish American girls."

At Chicago's Ohara Airport, I had a few hours layover, so I went to eat at a Mexican grill place in the airport, and chatted with an American businessman there who was transferring to the same flight as me. He was on his way to Germany again after returning from there a few days ago, because of a business emergency that came up. We talked until the time came to get on the Luftansa flight to Germany. Since this was a long distance across the Atlantic flight, it was a big 747 plane. Onboard, I marveled at how clean and luxurious looking the interior of the plane was. It was much better than any American or Asian 747 airline jet I had ever been on.

I noticed that almost everyone on the plane was German. It appeared that I was the only one there who would be transferring to go to Russia. Not surprising I guess, given the number of flights going there. Oh well, I'm sure I would find some Russian people to talk to on the flight from Germany to Russia. The meals they served on this plane were also much better than any airline food I had before. But most of my thoughts were preoccupied. I couldn't stop thinking about what a big step this was, and I kept feeling nervous when I realized that I had absolutely no idea what lay in store for me the next six weeks.

During the flight, I talked to a nice German girl next to me who was on her way back to Germany after spending a year as a foreign exchange student in Texas.

While I was talking to her, I thought "Wow these European girls sure have intelligent and substantive things to say. Their words reflect an inner life that is well developed and sophisticated, and without snobbiness or attitude. If this were an American girl, we would have ran out of things to say after 5 minutes, with nothing left to say except 'yeah' and 'cool'. This is neat. I hope the girls in Russia are like this too."

After the inflight movie, the lights were dimmed and the window shutters were pulled down. It was sleep time. Now was my chance to catch up on some sleep that I missed the night before while packing. It seemed like I woke up many times and tossed and turned. Sleeping on planes is so hard. I don't know how people do it. When I woke up after who knows how many hours, the onboard TV screen showed a map that indicated that we were above London.


When we arrived in Frankfurt, Germany, I had a five hour layover, so I walked around and shopped. It was a fancy looking airport, and I was enamored at the mix of so many people from around the world at that airport. Apparently, this was a big transfer airport, just like Chicago was. Unfortunately, the people working at the airport shops didn't seem that friendly. "Oh well" I thought. "This isn't America, and so I guess I can't expect the fake clicheish customer service smile that is mandated back in the USA." I bought a few postcards of Frankfurt to send some people. When I sat down at a coffee/espresso cafe to write on them, I sensed lots of smoke around me. "Wait a second." I thought, "Smoking is allowed in this airport?" As I glanced around, I noticed that every single person in the cafe was smoking, except me. I guess Europeans love to smoke. Oh well. While I was writing on the postcard, a group of Dutch tourists sat in the table next to me (yes they were tall) and starting making small talk with me. It was refreshing to finally run into some friendly people at this airport. It turned out that they were on their way back to Holland after visiting China.

Near the end of the five hour layover, I approached the gate to my next flight, and I sat down. An Egyptian girl next to me told me that there was an underground metro station below this airport, and that I could have taken the subway into the city of Frankfurt to look around. It was too bad I didn't learn this before, because that would have been fun, but now the time left was too short, and I'd hate to go and risk getting lost too. At the terminal to my next flight, I finally noticed some Russian people in the waiting area. Now I can mingle and talk about my trip! One of my immediate concerns was how to get from the St. Petersburg airport to the hostel I had reservations at. I had heard from the email list that the taxis at the airport are mafia-run and will charge you as high as $30 to $50 to take you somewhere, compared to the normal rate of $2 to $3, and it is best to avoid them if possible. I would gladly do so, but the problem is that since my flight arrives in St. Petersburg at 11pm, the buses and metro system would be closed by the time I got through customs! Therefore, I had no choice but to use the mafia-run taxis! To avoid this, I thought I might find some people on the flight to split a taxi cost with. So I started asking around, but I found that almost all the people there were part of a tour and would be taking a tour bus at the airport. Later on, I met a Russian woman and a tall Asian guy who was from Los Angeles. They were both being picked up by people, so I could not share a ride with them, but they suggested that I call for a city taxi when I got to the airport. However, neither of them were sure whether there were any pay phones at the airport, and they weren't sure if I could even exchange my cash into Russian rubles there either because the exchange center might be closed when we arrived too! So the Russian woman offered to make a call for me to a taxi service on her mobile phone (what we in the states call a "cell phone") when we got to the airport. As we all small talked, I asked the Asian guy from LA, named Brian, if he was there to meet some mail order brides too, but he seemed vague in his response, so I left it at that. All I knew was that he was meeting a woman friend there. (I would later run into him again in St. Petersburg. Read the chapter on the second week for details.)

When we all got in line to enter the gate, it was suddenly announced on the air that the flight was overbooked (cause everyone showed up this time), and that they were offering money and a free night at a hotel in exchange for volunteers to stay behind and take the next day's flight. As no one volunteered, they kept raising the compensation higher. Eventually it was $300 in cash and $300 in credit toward future airline tickets, and a free night's hotel stay in Frankfurt. It was very very tempting to me, and if I wasn't tight about my schedule and a control freak about it, I would have gladly volunteered. Eventually someone did volunteer, so we all proceeded onboard.

This was a much smaller Luftansa plane, and not as fancy. On the flight, a young Spanish guy and a young Russian guy sat next to me. They were both very talkative and friendly. We all talked like old friends. The guy from Spain was going to be a foreign exchange student and live with a Russian family. The Russian guy was from St. Petersburg and was going back after some long boat trip, though I wasn't clear as to what it was for, but it sounded like it was his work. The Russian guy gave me advice about getting around St. Petersburg and what to expect, and he was so friendly and positive that I was hoping that all Russian guys would be like this. After about two hours, the captain signaled that we were now approaching St. Petersburg. "This is it" I thought. As the plane approached St. Petersburg, I looked out the window and saw a lot of greenery all around. It wasn't like rolling pastures per say, but more like a worn and ancient landscape with some character to it. It looked very country and rural. I kept looking for big buildings and skyscrapers, but I didn't see any.


As the view of the land became closer, I thought "Oh my gosh! I can't believe I'm actually about to land in Russia. I never thought in my life that I would ever visit this country. All my life I've heard nothing but bad fearful things about this country from the media and from my history teachers. To Americans, this is like the land of the forbidden, and now I'm here! I only hope I live to tell about it. If I do, it'll be something to be proud of, since then I can say that I've been to a country that most Americans are fearful and ignorant about." As I got excited about this prospect, with my adventurous appetite flowing, I realized that unfortunately, I had absolutely no idea what would lay in store for me the next 6 weeks! It could be the best experience of my life, or the worst experience, or something I totally didn't expect! I also realized that I was now in a foreign country that I hardly knew anything about. It was like an alien land on another planet. Nothing I knew about how things are back in the USA would apply here. I had to drop all my preconceived notions and relearn everything from scratch, and go carefully one step at a time. After we reached touchdown, I suddenly realized that although it's supposed to be 11pm here, it was still light out. I asked the Russian guy next to me about this, and he explained to me that it was called "White Nights", which was a period of a few weeks in St. Petersburg every year in July when the sun would only set for a few hours, kind of like in Alaska.

When we all got off the plane and entered the airport, the three of us then exchanged email addresses and then got into the line for customs. Waiting in line, I noticed that all the signs and billboards in the airport were in Russian cryllic. "Oh great" I thought, "Now I can't even read anything around me. I'm illiterate now!" When I got to the customs lady, I noticed how gorgeous and cute she was, but she also had a frowned look and an apathetic one as well. I guess people here don't have to smile, which I already knew from my prior research. There was a good side to this though, because this also meant that since it was normal to look grumpy, people wouldn't be giving me BS pep talks for not smiling 24 hours a day like they would in the USA! (where people think there is something wrong with you and try to fix up your attitude if you're not positive and smiling 24 hours a day everyday) After the customs check, I went to the baggage claim area and met up with the tall Asian guy and the Russian woman I talked to in the Frankfurt airport. The woman tried to call a taxi service for me, but couldn't find the number. So I brought out the number for the hostel I was staying at, to try to see if I could get them to send a driver to me, which I learned from their website would be about $25, less than the mafia taxi. When I used her cell phone to call them, they said that it was too late to schedule a driver from them and that I had to schedule this in advance if I wanted this service. I also found out that the city bus and metro system were already closed for the night. Realizing that there was nothing I could do, I proceeded reluctantly to the outside exit, knowing that I would be scam bait for the mafia taxis. As I walked the corridor to the outside, I noticed some Russian stewardesses sitting in some chairs in a corner, and I marveled at how hot and perfect looking they were. They looked like they walked out of some magazine. I wanted to stop and say hi but the rush of the crowd behind me kept pushing me forward.

When I got outside, I immediately noticed the humidity and hot air and the sense that I was now in a strange foreign land. As I approached the parking lot, I saw a group of mafia run taxis parked in front of me, with drivers waiting outside of them, and to my right I saw the other passengers getting into tour buses to pick them up. I stopped and contemplated what to do, and how to not be scammed. But the mafia taxi drivers didn't even give me time to think. When they saw me stop and look indecisive, they approached me in their nice suits and offered a ride to me. They spoke pretty good English, obviously. When I asked about the price, they wanted $50. "Yeah right" I thought. I argued and negotiated with them, and finally they brought it down to $35, but no less. Being alone in a foreign country, I feared for my safety, so I asked to see some proof that they were an official service. I didn't want to risk being kidnapped! They had none to show me, but they offered to call the airport security so I could ask them if it was safe to get in their car or not. I agreed, and so they called a uniformed guard out from the airport. He couldn't speak English, but I managed to point to the taxis and say to him "Is it ok? Yes?" and he said "Yes" and nodded. So I conceded and got in the car with my luggage and showed the driver the address I needed to get to. He sped off immediately and right away I noticed how worn and bumpy the roads were, even at the airport. I knew I could not expect smooth maintained roads here. None of the safety laws of the USA applied here!

As we approached the city of St. Petersburg, it gradually became dark. I looked at the window and was in awe at what I saw. The city was much more modern than I had expected. I didn't know why I thought it would be primitive. But there were flashing neon signs, urban sights, and people walking everywhere in well dressed outfits. I knew that it would be like this from the descriptions I read on the internet, but seeing this myself was even better because it confirmed all of it. It was nothing like what you would see of Russia from the US media, which often showed Russia to be poor and primitive. And furthermore, the Russian pop music that was playing in the taxi cab confirmed to me further that I was in some strange exotic land. I did some people watching during the ride too, and couldn't believe how many tall gorgeous women with long legs there were, even at this time of night. I couldn't wait to get out and meet them, and test to see if all the talk I heard about them being friendly and approachable to foreigners was true or not! I sure hoped it was. If so, this would be a paradise! As it became dark, the city lights and life looked very colorful and fancy. My fear was replaced with excitement! As we drove, I also kept looking closely at the mafia cab driver to see if he would suddenly pull out a gun and yell "Stay right where you are!" To calm my nervousness about this, I made small talk with him and tried to be funny and act innocent.

Finally, we arrived at my hostel which was on the side of the big Neva River. The driver got out and helped me unload my luggage. I paid him the $35 and as I was about to turn around he said "What about tip?" I said "I thought I read that you don't tip taxis in Russia!" but I went ahead and gave him a dollar anyway. I walked up to the big old door of the hostel, and opened it. The interior of it looked like an old building with a history all right. I walked in and looked around. There was nobody there, not even a receptionist. "That's funny" I thought, because I was told by them on the phone and on the website that there would a hostel staff available there 24 hours a day. I looked around and noticed that the office to my right was locked and closed and the security booth to my left was empty. Not knowing what to do, I yelled out "Hello! Is anyone here?" No one responded. I could have sworn that I was at the right place because the big sign outside did say "St. Petersburg International Hostel Holiday". I went out and double checked it and confirmed it. When I got back in the hall, I thought "Well there's another big door in front of me. Maybe I should just go through it and I'll be able to find a receptionist beyond it." It's the only logical answer. So I did that, and sure enough to my left was a hallway with a reception area. I walked to it and greeted the receptionist saying that I arrived. I checked in, paid by credit card for a few days, got the key to my room, some blankets, pillows, and toiletries. I would be in a double bunk room, but I would have it to myself since no one else needed it. I also noticed European guests coming and going throughout the lobby. They all spoke with exotic European accents.

Before going to my room, I called Olga, the lady I came to see in this city, and told her that I arrived. She was glad and said that we would arrange to meet tomorrow. Even though I hadn't slept well for 48 hours, my adrenaline was pumped with excitement at being here, so I wasn't really tired but full of energy. I went outside to gaze at this exotic new world in the moonlight. I looked at the romantic Neva River and bridge, lit by the moonlight. The sight was surreal and I could feel the culture all around me. As I sat down outside and marveled at it all, some European girls came up to the door and we exchanged hello's. I asked them where they were from and they said Holland. I told them about my long time Dutch pen pal Karin, and then I explained that I just arrived here and asked them how they liked this city so far. They said it was great, but then pointed to the bridge and warned me that if I cross it to the other side of town and didn't come back before 1am, that the bridge would open up for a few hours to let the ships pass through, and that I would be stuck on the other side for several hours until 4am. They explained that it had already happened to them, and they didn't mind it because it was fun being on the other side just drinking and mingling with people and hanging out. I thanked them for the advice and wished them goodnight. I went to my room, settled down, and laid on my bed. As I lay, I felt relieved that I had made it safely here, with English speaking staff here ready to help me get around. I quickly fell asleep.