Since summer 2009 I've been trying to travel to Russia. Every time there's been something standing in the way: vegetable gardens, falling in love, tooth infections, just about anything you can think of. But I knew that it just wasn't the right time yet. Postponing plans, with Russia starting to feel more and more like an imagination land rather than something that really exists.
But it does exist, very much, as I see now.
After over a year of planning and pondering, it was simply approriate to leave as I did. On one Friday evening, all of a sudden, I decided that the time has come, so I went to get some waterproof clothes just minutes before the shops closed, packed my bag, and two hours later I was already on my way towards the mysterious East.
You might say that there were some strange demons in the way of getting to Russia. But then my rescuing angel definately came in an even stranger form. Sergey was a tattooed chain smoker and an ex hammer thrower with 200 kilos of body weight and apparently no fear of death (this I concluded based on his way of driving). I filled in my immigration card in the middle of the woods at 4.am, hands shaking from the freezing wind, and right after the border we stopped to buy two bottles of vodka. Sergey's nostalgic sigh "Ah, Russia" made me realize that in a way I had travelled further away from home than ever before.
We arrived in St. Petersburg early in the morning, and the city was greeting me with dusty rays of the rising sun. It was love at first sight.
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