I Can’t See The Ground…

Our flight to Moscow was fairly non-eventful. It was our first time travelling on Singapore Air and we both agreed that the service was top-notch. Even the coach seats (where we lowly trying-to-pay-off-the-house-and-go-on-a-trip folks sit) were spacious and comfortable. {Can I get a whoo-hoo? Anyone?!?}

As we were on our final descent into the airport, The Boy opened the window shade, peered out and said: I can’t see the ground and I’m pretty sure I should be by now.

Not a good sign regarding the smoky-smog in Moscow for sure.

The airport was moderately controlled chaos, as we’d expected, but terribly hot, stuffy and smoke-filled. It was as though bonfires had been lit around the building and we all were trapped inside, feeling the warmth, wanting to breathe and not being able to see clearly.

Lord almighty, I told The Boy. I hope we’re not miserable the whole time.

Passport control was a breeze – although I did get a bit of scolding for not looking at the immigration officer 100% of the time. {Really, that was the fault of the woman next to me, who wanted to carry on a conversation. Honestly!}

Our baggage even unloaded immediately. I think that’s a personal record!

Customs was a different story. We’d brought in some things for the office that needed to be declared. We soon learned that the forms sitting out for customs declaration were old forms. We needed to fill out new forms that weren’t sitting out. The customs officials couldn’t have been more helpful, walking us through the process (helpful since the new forms hadn’t been translated into multiple languages yet). We just had to wait until the new forms were fetched.

The Boy’s colleague, V, patiently waited in the stuffy arrival lounge until we emerged, bedraggled and exhausted, an hour after our flight arrived.

Here’s a universal truth: no matter how tired you are, you always feel better if someone is waiting for you at the airport!

We headed to V’s car, loaded our luggage and proceeded to back out of the parking lot. You read that right: we backed out. Traffic had completely blocked any other method of exiting, so we reversed 200 feet until we reached an exit lane. Too much fun!

From there it was a simple off-to-the-races drive into Moscow and our hotel, the Gamma (built for the 1980 Olympics). We checked in, found our Ricky and Lucy beds (which The Boy quickly pushed together) and discovered that we had No Air Conditioning.

It was so hot that told The Boy I didn’t know why he bothered pushing our Ricky and Lucy beds together because there was no way anything – including him – would be touching me until it wasn’t quite as hot!

Our country is completely unprepared for this heat, said V. He was right. And even these Texans were unprepared for this heat without the benefit of air conditioning – particularly when you factor in the smokey-smog. Ick.

After V left us to our own devices, we went out to explore and stuck to a tried-and-true Hayley jet-lag-fighting routine: we went to the grocery store. It may sound strange, but grocery stores have the perfect blend of same and not-same to keep you alert as you wander the aisles or market stalls.

The small neighborhood market near our hotel.

Dinner was a kebab at a local shop (yay for the ability to point to a food item and signal for the number that we wanted!) and then off to the sweatbox hotel for a fitful, sweaty night in our smog-filled room (after we unwisely opted to leave the window open in a failed attempt to catch a breeze).

Not the loveliest of sunsets – dreaded smog!

Just as we suspected: Moscow was shaping up to be an adventure.