[i]
The bright cabin lights flicker on and I hear an Italian
voice announce they’ll be serving breakfast soon and that we’ll be landing in
one hour.
...
I chomp on some Milano Cookies and sip on Hot Tea. How
appropriate is it that they served us these cookies considering we’re landing
in Milan (Milano).
At the Milan airport. Snacking on Goldfish and a Blueberry
Yogurt while looking out the terminal windows amazed at all the various
mechanical things on wheels. Remembering as a kid how fascinated I was with
cars and things like that.
In flight.
...
Apparently when you request a vegetarian meal this means
only vegetables and fruits. Where’s the protein? I guess they just don’t have
any alternatives so instead they just up the amount of plants. It’s no big
deal. I’ve found, when traveling, I tend to eat too much and without rhyme or
reason. The rule is just to eat when given food. What else can I do?
...
I finish reading The Stranger over a cup of Coffee.
You’d think the coffee might have some say in keeping my body awake but
nonetheless I drift off for the rest of the flight. I’m awoken at a very
stressful and climatic part of the dream but within seconds it slips from my
memory. There was something important about it. Oh well.
...
The blank white sky slowly reveals the snowy forests of
Russia. My hands are sweaty. I’m nervous but in a good way – eager to see the
city and more importantly to see Ays. We both entertained and imagined this day
for a long time and now it’s actually happening. Our story is gifted with a
sequel...
I’ve landed. Smooth transition through visa check and my
guitar came out of the baggage claim without a scratch. Just outside the
airport doors is a line of limousine drivers with hand written signs of
people’s names on them. Hiding behind them is her with a huge shy smile
painted on her face. She’s holding an “I Love You” heart balloon. Neither one
of us can believe we’re standing in front of each other. It doesn’t feel real.
We hug, share presents, and compose ourselves. Then brace the freezing weather
at the bus stop. Waiting and waiting. The bus to the underground metro.
And then we arrive at Marina’s Soviet-style flat, northwest
from the center. She’s a most hospitable and friendly couch surfing host with a
lot of travel stories. Sharing Tea and smokes in the kitchen. Discussing some
of the most important things to do in the city. She speaks rather great English
as her husband is Scottish, well I guess that’s not necessarily the reason but
she is either way.
...
It’s almost midnight. Ays and I take a walk on Leningradsky
Avenue and pick up some bread and beer from a tiny market shop.
Me: “Remember all those times you’d joke about hanging out
with me in Moscow walking side by side down the snowy streets? Well here I am.
We’re doing it.”
...
Back at the flat enjoying a late night snack of Eggs, Bread,
and Beer. Marina’s off to sleep and we’re left to the den alone. It’s there
that we unearth our pent up sexual fire. Ah. I remember this. I forgot
how beautiful she is. I forgot how beautiful this is. And so it goes.
Here I am on the 8th floor of an apartment building in the middle of
Moscow making love. This is going to be a wonderful vacation.
[i] All images
by me.
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