The next few posts will be the journal that I kept while on a trip to the Tuvan Republic in Russia. Not mentioned by name in my previous writing, it turns out that there is no issue with public information, though I’ll probably use code most of the time to avoid being caught by the search engines. The posts will be very stream of consciousness as most of the writing was done early in the mornings when I couldn’t sleep due to time change issues.
On Sunday, August 12, Steve Pruett, Ronnie Cansler and myself left from New Bethany to Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport in Atlanta. At 4:45 pm we were scheduled to take the first of four legs arriving ultimately in Kyzyl in the T—- Republic.
Faithful members Mike and Donna Puckett were kind enough to drive us and our luggage, dropping us off around 1:45. After clearing security and securing our boarding passes, we were happy to note that our plane was at a T-gate saving us the 5,000 foot trek to the E-concourse where most ATL international flights originate and terminate. Our flight, Atlanta to Dusseldorf, Germany, was only 1/2 full, so I was able to sit across two seats and get some sleep–maybe 5 1/2 hours of the 9 hours in the air. We landed and promptly found a Starbucks where we spent the entirety of our layover.
The second leg was our first on Aeroflot, the Russian airline. Past days, while under Soviet control, featured an Aeroflot that was the butt of many an aviation joke. Visions of chickens and goats and seat ropes instead of belts danced in my head. I was pleasantly surprised to board a very clean Airbus 319. My excitement at getting an exit row seat was tempered when I saw that my specific seat, due to its close proximity to the emergency door, was a replacement seat with very little cushion and a permanent downward slant. It was as if I had to cinch down the seat belt to keep my body from sliding ever forward! Nonetheless, the flight was uneventful and the pilot made a good landing through the turbulent air over a Moscow runway. After we gathered our luggage and cleared customs, we met an M couple from our church and then enjoyed a leisurely lunch at TGIFriday’s inside the airport.
Moscow has two airports. One is larger and more modern, the other, about 15 minutes distant by bus, is true old style. Utilitarian in structure and bland in design, it harkens back to the stark coldness of the cold war era. Under maintenanced, underfunded and under sized, one hundred or so people milled around the only 75 seats, waiting by course until their flight numbers were called, at which point security is endured, tickets are confirmed and gates are sought.
Our 10:45 flight was delayed for an hour, but the Airbus 321 was practically just off the showroom floor–it still had the new car smell. Unfortunately, I was assigned a window seat in a three across section, which was not an exit row. The first thing that I noticed upon approaching my row was that someone was in the seat bearing the number of one of my traveling companions. Figuring that they would be able to work it out, I shoe-horned myself across two young ladies into 18F. My friend happily switched with the young lady as he took her aisle seat in the deal while she had the middle one beside me. She was significantly smaller than he, so I was happy that I would not have to be wrestling over the armrest for the entire trip.
What I didn’t immediately realize amid all the deal making was the attire of Miss Middle Seat. She had on a mini skirt so short that just looking at her would get a fellow past second base. I spent the entire 4 hour flight either looking straight ahead, trying unsuccessfully to sleep or reading, A Prayer for Owen Meany, which I had started about 2 years ago but had never finished. Upon seeing it, her friend in the aisle seat, a regular Siberian Chatty Cathy, immediately recalled how she had really wanted to read it, but had never found a copy in Novosibirsk. Knowing that I would never read it again, I offered to give it to her if I were to finish it during the flight which I managed to do by reading/skimming the last 250 pages. She was surprised when I handed it to her, not realizing that I had been serious.
And so it was that we landed in Siberia at 6:30 am on Tuesday, August 16. Over the previous four days, I had had a total of about 15 1/2 hours sleep and had traveled, with flights and layovers, about 28 hours. We were met by the wife of another M who fed us a Cracker Barrel worthy meal, loaded with protein, allowed us to shower and whisked us to the next airport for our destination flight which was to leave at 12:20 pm, not 2:30 as we originally thought.
To be continued…
