Maybe I am a Russian!

I think this is my 7th trip to Russia -- maybe 8th -- but it's the first time I've taken a direct flight from a US city to Moscow (from Atlanta via Delta).  Usually I take Lufthansa from DFW to Frankfurt, Germany, which means that the United Nations is on board -- people from everywhere congregate in Frankfurt to fly everywhere.  So it took be by surprise to be on a flight surrounded by Russians.  Had I thought about it, I shouldn't have been surprised, because the only people who fly Atlanta to Moscow are Russians and a few Americans. 

My immersion into Russian culture thus began a little sooner than I'm used to.  For instance, Russians have a different view of personal space than Texans.  Russians will run right up to you - and over you if necessary.  Texans would consider this rude -- though I don't think it's all rudeness but just differentness.  There are some benefits, for instance, when you run into or over a Russian, they are pretty much used to it.  Just say pazhalsta -- it's one of the few words you can use anywhere anytime -- pazhalsta can mean "please," "don't mention it...," "excuse me, get out of the way" or "sorry (you didn't get out of the way)!"  When I don't know what to say in Russia, I say pazhalsta and somebody will nod agreement!

The flight attendant walked by and was passing out migration papers required of all non-Russians entering Russia.  She looked at me and just walked right on by.  I had to wave her back and tell her that I was not Russian but an American citizen and I needed the migration papers.  So I guess that means I could pass for a Russian.  I think it's because I grew up at the base of "Hunky Hill" in Portage.

Western PA, where I grew up, was populated by a lot of people from Eastern Europe -- Poles, Hungarians, Czechs, Slavs and Russians.  My good friend in high school went off to be a Russian Orthodox priest.  So I grew up with babushkas and perogees and creative ways to fix cabbage.  Evidently some of this has rubbed off as I could easily have entered the country as a Russian.  However, the customs officials have a more discerning eye than flight attendants!  Russia is a friendlier place than it used to be but the customs people still get paid to look mean.

After an overnight flight and 11 hours on a plane, everybody looks like thunder -- including Russian women.  (I am going to need a little grace on this one, folks...)  Russian women take great pride in the way they look in public.  This is an almost universal rule though I am sure there are exceptions.  I think they have an advantage because the sun's direct rays never shine in Russia -- it's so far north that their skin doesn't take the beating like we must endure in Texas.  Plus, most Russian women have masters' degrees in the fine art of make-up.  So as we are preparing to descend into Moscow, the lady in front of me decides that she doesn't want to look like thunder when she steps back onto her homeland.  Out comes the make-up and by the time the plane taxies to the terminal she looks like a million rubles -- which is about $35,000! This is not fair.  None of us men could ever achieve such a glorious transformation!

The Russian guy behind me has this Harley-Davidson tee shirt on.  As I looked around the plane I noticed that there were several guys wearing Harley-Davidson tee shirts.  So I asked the guy if he owned a Harley.  He told me that they were a bunch of bikers who flew into Atlanta, rented Harleys and did a rode trip down to the Florida Keys and back.  This is what Russian motorcycle gangs do for spring break in Russia which obviously doesn't arrive until July!

We landed in a snowstorm and I woke this morning to 11 degrees Fahrenheit.  It's good to be back in Russia but I miss Texas already!  For all you people praying for me -- thanks and keep it up!
Dasvidanya!
Blair Blairovitch