My moments in Moscow began when I inadvertently followed an interaction among members of an FB expat group regarding Russia’s national carrier. The desire to see the place though began back in childhood. Like other parents, mine spent considerable time telling me stories. Later I was no longer content just being told of heroes from faraway lands. By adulthood I had to see evidence or at least come close to traces of their existence.
Curiosity + A love of History + Wanderlust = Moments of
~ excitement when a plane lands bringing you to a place for the first time
~ adrenaline for traveling alone, just you and your wits wondering about safety and whether your guide would show up, making sure Plan B is intact in case Plan A runs into problems
~ tongues. You hear yourself speaking a few words of the local language and the locals smile at you. Either your attempt is passable or they are just amused to hear you try
~ cold horror. A Dementor engulfs you at airport exit. The zero temperature.
~ mounting worry when the hotel does not accept any mode of payment except the one in your wallet that does not match, and it’s midnight!
~ relief at finding an ATM that spits out currency which determines whether you spend the night on a warm bed or an airport bench
~ joy in beholding a riot of colors; your favorite season happens to be trending while you are visiting
~ awe in finding yourself on the same spot where history-making events took place and historical figures once trod
~ contrast: on the very same ground stood the first man in space, marched a battalion oozing power and there you are taking a silly selfie
~ faux pas looking for the grave of a famous person and the news is he is still alive (I will be brave in a later post and tell it)
~ pride in having survived traveling solo without breaking a limb
~ regret that you could not stay longer to immerse in details. Note to self: next time apply for a longer visa
~ gratitude for childhood wishes that come true, for learning experiences, and this adventure we call Life.