I'm back in Russia, for the first time. An odd statement, I'm sure, but I can think of none better to describe what it's like to be here.
Most people, and you know who you are, seem to think I've been to Russia before. When I was growing up in Los Angeles, local Russian immigrants used to think I was Russian. An elderly lady from Odessa once asked me if I was practicing my English...which was surprising, as I didn't know a word of Russian at the time. But I digress.
People seem so convinced that I lived in Russia, because for a considerable amount of time, I lived around Russia – in Poland, Lithuania and Ukraine, all places associated with Russia (the latter two having large Russian speaking populations)...After that year in Eastern Europe, I left with a kasket (Russian style peaked cap) from Poland and a smattering of Russian from Lithuania, but having never stepped foot in Russia proper. I was thus more then intrigued when I was offered the chance to help out with the influx of summer tourists visiting the city of S. Petersburg (formerly Leningrad, formerly Petrograd, formerly S. Petersburg).
Which is why I'm back in Russia for the first time. On one hand everything feels very familiar, on the other everything is new.
Who ever says Communism is gone has never crossed the Russian border… My passport, admittedly well used, did have room for a few more stamps (ok, two, but that should have been enough to enter and exit a country), but a Russian Visa requires two empty pages. Thus off I went to Boro Park, where for the delightful fee of $60 for the additional pages, and $150 for a three day rush, my travel agent arranged the additional pages. When it was returned, my passport came decked out in a leather passport cover (they're all the rage in Lithuania), and a travel kit which includes a sleep mask, ear plugs and one of those fancy blow up neck pillows. I'm still debating if they were worth the cost.
All of this seemed like more then enough to enter the country, but upon reaching passport control, I was asked to fill out a "Migration Card", in duplicate, which wanted such details as my given name(s), birth date (in day/month/year format), purpose of visit and patronymic...which got me worried...I don't think I have a patronymic.
In any event, I managed to get through the border and was greeted by the sights and smells of the City of White Nights.
