For an unseasoned traveller like myself, this is probably the most significant step yet. After 8 days touring Europe together, Mike and I have gone our separate ways. As he heads for Copenhagen, I’m on a Lufthansa 737-500 bound for Moscow. This will be the first time I visit a non-English-speaking country alone, and as expected, I’m just a little bit jittery about what to expect. I’m en route to an airport that was bombed less than a week ago, and I’ve been warned more times than I can remember about how tourists can be treated in Russia.
Travelling with Mike was absolutely marvellous, but after sharing a room 8 nights in a row, I’m actually glad to finally have some time to myself. I’ve been alone just 3 hours and already it feels completely different. Being the more experienced backpacker, Mike’s been the default navigator, so all I’ve really had to do is follow him, and occasionally cough up a few bob for tickets of one kind or another. Now it’s all about hunting around for English speakers and trying to remember obscure directions. I’m not worried though; on the contrary, I’m mildly excited about a bit of extra challenge. I’ll also have more time for blogging, so keep those reading glasses handy.
Prague is a hard act to follow, and the little time I had in Berlin, between all the shopping, recovering, maintenance and preparation, I found to be quite underwhelming. Berlin has a distinct vibe of left wing, progressive, party-all-night culture, which appeals to many people, but not me. I’m a bed-by-10, easy-listening kinda guy, and seeing bunches of drunkards roaming the street with alcohol in full view doesn’t really do it for me. People generally aren’t as rude as Parisians, but also seem to have less patience, and the occasional piss-head on the street easily ruins the image of an otherwise relatively civilised society.
One thing you have to give the Germans credit for is their engineering. German engineering? We all know that’s top notch. There’s a reason BMWs and Mercedes carry such hefty price tags. But in Berlin, it’s all the small things that impressed me, like fully automated bathrooms and windows that open three different ways, depending on how you turn the handle. They have a very effective train network, efficient bureaucracy (ok just about everything in Germany is efficient), intelligently designed heating systems and some absolute no-brainers that make Australian engineering seem completely lame; multiple doors along corridors in the hotel to keep noise down, extra-large buttons in the lift for readability, sensor lights, train doors that only open when they need to… It’s as if the rest of us have deferred to the interns to design our everyday appliances.
Sightseeing in Berlin was brief and localised due to time constraints. I visited the Jewish memorial, and found the atmosphere was anything but sombre. It’s a vast area of rectangular concrete blocks, each one a different size and shape for some reason best known to its architects. There were no weeping widows, no solemn tour groups or documentary-making historians; just lots of happy-snapping tourists, running around, joking, climbing on the blocks and generally having a hoot of a time. I overheard fragments of a conversation which included the German word for Jew (“Juden”), mixed with chuckles indicating some sort of amusing anecdote, and I immediately came to two distinct conclusions; first, that there was a disheartening lack of respect for the victims of one of the most repulsive crimes ever committed; and second, that mourning must not be indefinite, and positive attitudes should ultimately prevail. Which one is more valid, I think is too subjective to publicise.
Leaving this morning was brisk and decisive. I wanted to allow plenty of margin for error as I set off by myself, so I was up at the crack of dawn (for want of a better term; there’s no real sunrise in Berlin this time of year), and hobbled on down to the bus stop with my ridiculously oversized backpack. There was some confusion over which side of the road to get the bus, but I managed to negotiate my way to the airport with relative ease. Lufthansa are a great airline; the check-in was fast, friendly and painless, and in spite of a ~20min delay, the professionalism of Lufthansa’s staff has been second only to Qantas, who in my experience, have never been beaten on any count other than price. Once again, drinks are good quality and unlimited, and served with a smile. Food was as good as can be expected on a 2 hour flight.
One amusing character I won’t forget anytime soon was a 50-something Russian woman on the airport shuttle bus. She’s on the same flight as me, but in first class. Even before we boarded, she seemed to want to make it clear to the other passengers just how much better she was. On a bus with roughly one seat for every three people, she chose to occupy two seats. She glared at us through disgustingly over-applied makeup as we stood in the aisle, as if to say our souls were not worth the cost of the ostentatious fur coat she wore, stroking it as Cleopatra might stroke a pet tiger. She pushed passed several people in the line to board the plane, and continued her sanctimonious glare as we passed her overpriced seat(s) to take ours. If you’re reading this, my dear bleach-blonde baby-boomer bimbo, I hope that cognac gives you indigestion. Please continue as you are though; we need twits like you to entertain us, and remind us how much more worthy of god’s oxygen we really are.
Hopefully, such characters are as rare in Russia as they are at home. I fear I may be overly optimistic in this regard; I’ve known many Russians in my time and whilst they are generally good people, they can get very silly with their fashion and social interactions, and have notoriously vibrant tempers. They are also reputably hospitable, generous and enthusiastic, so overall I have a good feeling about whatever reception I may receive.
I’m keen to see how Domodedovo differs from other airports, after the unfortunate events of last week. I’ve been told by Lufthansa staff that it’s 100% business as usual, which I’m not sure whether to interpret as complacency or not. I’m expecting full cavity searches all round. My arse is puckered – here goes nothing!
