Arrival, part 3

After a few more hours of wandering around in the cold, I headed back to the hostel and was able to charge my phone and get ahold of Benjy’s uncle. By now he seemed a bit annoyed about my phone situation and my general incompetence. He told me to meet him at a restaurant across from his apartment building in an hour and to use their phone. Ok. I wrote down his directions and hopped the train to his stop. I again was navigating with my 85 lbs of luggage, which was not fun. I got off at the stop he had told me to get off at, and looked for the street he had mentioned. This is where it of course got hard again. Streets in Russia are not always clearly marked, and sometimes a street with the distinction of a boulevard is just an unmarked alley. That happened to be the case this time, but I wouldn’t find that out until later.

I asked several people for directions, and as before, got either no help, or was pointed in the wrong direction. I was amazed at the amount of people who didn’t even know the name of the street we were on, even though they worked on it! I had been making good time but being lost took all of that away, and I certainly didn’t want to be late to meet Jim, as he had already gone out of his way to help me and did seem rather annoyed with me. I was getting more lost with every step, so I decided to hail a taxi because I knew that wherever I was, I was only a few blocks away from where I needed to be, I just didn’t have time to wander through every alley in search of the correct one. He had specifically told me not to get in a taxi because of a traffic jam he had been stuck in for two hours, but I was lost, and the streets looked pretty clear. I stuck out my arm and immediately a car hopped across a lane of traffic and pulled up alongside of me to ask me where I was going. In my haste I had completely forgotten that if you stick your arm out, you are not always going to get a real taxi, but instead a random person who wants to make a few bucks. Most people will tell you not to do this, and in the US this would probably be called hitch-hiking, but I didn’t have time to waste, so I got in. I told him where I was going and told him I’d give him 200rubles ($6.25) to take me where I was going. He put my stuff in the trunk and we were off!

The man had a GPS unit in his car, so I felt good about that, because that meant that we might actually get to where I needed to be, and that he probably did this often enough so I wasn’t in grave danger. I didn’t talk much to the man other than to get his name. I didn’t have much to say to him, and I wanted to minimize my obvious foreign-ness. The traffic had apparently cleared up, which made our trip quite quick, and in 5 minutes we reached are destination. I told him I’d give him another hundred rubles if I could use his phone, as Jim had told me not to use my American phone to call him because it could possibly charge him, and it was a waste of whoever was paying for the call (my parents).

Jim answered the phone after two rings and I told him I was there. He luckily was not there, which was good for me because I did not want him to see me getting out of a car, especially a strangers car, since he had told me not to take a taxi. Also, riding with strangers is stupid, and I needed him to have a good first impression of me. Jim told me to order him some soup and then dragged on about something or other, and I could tell the driver was getting impatient. After we were done talking, I gave the phone back and we unloaded my bags. I thanked him, and he drove off. Note to Benjy: Don’t tell your uncle about this.

I was now safely delivered to where I needed to be, and after slightly angering the wait staff by dragging in my suitcase, I sat down, ordered Jims soup, and then browsed the menu for myself. Jim showed up after about five minutes, and I realized I looked like complete shit compared to his business suit. I’m not sure what he thought of me. Later when I looked in the mirror, I saw the face of a dead man looking back at me. Or something of the sort. I also discovered that I had already worn a hole in a brand new pair of socks from walking around the city. I came to two conclusions: Either I needed to buy better socks (but they were Haines?), or not walk around a city for 9 hours in dress shoes.

I guess that brings me to the end of my arrival. I wrote entirely too much, so sorry for the bricks of text. I’m having a much better time, and Jim has a super nice apartment with a great view, so I’ve been living well. If ever I was going to pretend to be rich and hire a high class escort, this would be the time to do it, but luckily I’m not that kind of person. The complex is guarded by both people and a barbed-wire fence, so I’m pretty safe. I’ll update in a few days as to what sort of things I’ve been up to, but for now I’ve written more than my fair share.