Just when I thought I was free and clear... 021706

So, I thought all would be well, and there would be no more tell of Russia… but the fun never ends.

Guess who drove me to the airport??? Yuri! He said he made a special trip just for me. He is the sweetest. I know the other drivers were available as they were all sitting in the drivers office. We had a great drive. We talked about all sorts of things… from whales and bluetooths to the disappearance of Christmas due to the Soviet regime and the emergence of New Years as the main holiday to his daughters. It was a lovely ride. Yuri is the best! He took me a way through Moscow that I had never seen. Quite interesting. There were many orange apartment buildings, usually the ones that I see are old and white. He said this was a newer part of the city. It was one of the nicest parts of Moscow that I have seen.

So, I get to the airport. I get through the first security check. I go through Customs, which doesn't even have anyone there. I get to where they would usually tear apart my bags… and tada! A new system is there. There are xray machines. Imagine that! They x-ray my bags… Man, this is an exciting blog! So, I go to check in #6 and wait with everyone else as they prepare to open. I watch some lady get completely reamed by what appears to be the desk manager for going to the counter. She yells at her that they don't have the list ready and can't check anyone in yet. They can't do anything if they don't have the list! I stand back and start talking to the person next to me. He is from Spain. We talking what I can only describe as Russ-lisch. He would speak in English and then substitute the Russian words for the words he didn't know. It kind of went like this… "Yeah, the weather is Spain right now is ladno. It's about 17 gradusov."

I watch another guy go up the counter. I'd say he's 23, a little shorter than me with a pretty nice build. He's wearing the worst pair of "designer" jeans that I have ever seen. They look like they were sewn together from all types of jean fabric and leather and are "tattered" looking. But get this… this is the best! They have suspenders (and they are not directly attached to the jeans, they are clipped on!) made out of jean fabric that he has left hanging down. Wow! Now, I've seen some bad Russian fashion, but I think we may be able to award the gold medal. He is also wearing a large puffy blue jacket with fur around the hood and a Canadian maple leaf symbol on it that says "Made in Italy." hmmm… His shoes are suede boots that kind of look like Lugs with a big buckle and pointier toe. He is also wearing large, gold sunglasses. His hair is spiked and highlighted. You can tell, he thinks he is a rock star! (He very well may be in Russia or he may be mafia. Don't know. Don't care!) You can tell this outfit probably costs more than my laptop (maybe twice as much) in Moscow. What a waste! He would probably be good looking if he weren't wearing the worst outfit in the world and was not a chauvinist as well. His girlfriend is yelling at him to help her with the bag… "Marco"-- wow! And a name to match the fashion!!! He waves to her to come along. He slaps his passport on the counter, and I can see that it has a wad of cash inside. His girlfriend catches up. She is everything you would expect Marco's girlfriend to be. Dyed blond, big sunglasses, weighs about 70 pounds (with clothes and probably her baggage too!), same bad fashion, just female. Her jacket is a short fur coat with a different fur on the collar and the rest. She has TIGHT jeans with stripes down the side that are definitely some horrible designer and knee high tan suede boots. She continues to whine at him. I don't think he even notices her there. If so, he doesn't say anything. Then I see it… Their bags are completely wrapped in plastic wrap-- not industrial plastic wrap like they were new, but Saran wrap from your kitchen. Wow! The attendant takes the passport and processes him. So much for the list! When the passport is given back it is much thinner. I don't think Marco says one word during the whole transaction.

I get in line. I get to the counter and can you imagine that they are disturbed because once again, my luggage is overweight? I argue with them in Russian. I actually shouldn't be overweight, but the rules have changed. In Stockholm, my carry-on could be 10 kilos, here only 5. The she-banshee from earlier comes over. I argue with her as well. She says that I have to check my carryon. Whatever, I should've just taken the Marco approach. So, they write on my ticket. The only guy behind the counter offers assistance. He says in Russian then English, you go down there, and it is on the right. So off I go to the Cyprus airways counter. I go down and on the right, and I only see Aeroflot. I ask them. Oh, that is on the 6th floor. I go over and wait for the elevator forever. I get on the elevator. There are two people with carts, one person smoking, someone with some rank BO, a little kid and some Russian chicks. Sometimes, I hate Russia. We go up stopping at each floor. Finally, 6! My eyes are going to fall out. Everyone on the elevator has to get off so that I can. I go all around the floor, reading each door looking for Cyprus Airways. No Cyprus Airways. Finally, I find some Lufthansa employees smoking in the hall. I ask them if they know where Cyprus airways is. 2nd floor. Great! Back on the elevator, we go. Finally, I find it. The kid is busy smoking. He doesn't really pay attention to me. Eventually, I take the Russian approach and rap on the window and give him "the look." I give him my ticket and my credit card. You don't have rubles? No, no rubles. I point to my card. He picks it up and throws it down in disgust and pulls out some forms that look like they are from the beginning of credit card history. He writes it up surprisingly fast, but does take a minute to chat with his girlfriend on his cell phone. He finishes gives me my receipt and I head back. The funny thing about all of that is that he wanted 1800 rubles cash or $50 on my credit card. As $50 is only 1400 rubles, I actually once again cheated Russian inefficiency. I'll just count that 400 rubles as tip for all of the crap that they put me through. I get through all of the fun that is security and dealing with check in and go to stand in line for immigration.

While in line for immigration, I talk to a fellow American who is working for a large shipping company that is shipping American chicken into Russia. Interesting. He is from New Orleans but is living in Holland. He speaks neither Dutch or Russian. Hmm. I get to the passport officer. She takes an especially long time looking at my passport (most likely due to the missing stamp from when I came in). Finally, I hear it… the one thing I can't wait to hear…. Stamp, stamp… but then she holds it some more… Then I see her doing something else… More stamping… I get my passport back and take a look at it. She stamped it in the right place where the first person should have.

I walk to the gate waiting area and go through security once again. The auditor in me has figured out about three different ways to skirt security though and how to get on the wrong plane--and that's not even using the Marco approach. The controls here are crap. While I'm waiting, guess who comes into the arrival hall… Marco and Barbie. Barbie has been shopping, and it looks like the Duty Free is sold out now. Marco comes in and takes off his coat. He's wearing this tight, black shirt with a huge bright blue patch sewn on it. Talk about fashion! Some old guy comes over and starts talking to Marco like they are best friends. Maybe he is famous after all…

I look out the window. It is snowing again. The runways look horrible. Great! Oh, and I was supposed to board the plane thirty minutes ago. Guess all that rushing around for overweigh baggage was worth it!

So, the plane take off was okay. I saw Marco and Barbie on the plane again… and believe it or not, he was actually carrying all of her shopping bags and her carryon, and they are in COACH! Who would've guessed it?!?

Magically, I have an entire row to myself. I smell the worst stench on earth. The guy in the row behind me and across has brought a smoked fish wrapped in tin foil on the plane and is attacking it with a plastic fork. Only the Russians! I stretch out and take a nap until dinner. Ahhhh, edible food. They must've brought it from Cyprus. I finally eat. I go back to sleep. I am awoken by the two men in front of me arguing loudly. Whoa, boys, settle down! From what I can tell they are arguing about Russia in Greek. I try to go back to sleep, but the effort is futile… They are so danged loud. After about two hours of this arguing, they decide they are best friends. The one guy could be Dr. Gar-El's twin. The other guy looks to be about 60, but doesn't have a single grey hair among his soft, black curls.

The landing in Cyprus is very similar to that in Bali… Basically, here is how it goes… you are out over the sea. You start to descend… you are going down more and more. You see water, water, water, is the landing gear going to start hitting the water soon?, water, water, land! Whew! Just barely made it.

On a side note, our flight path was hilarious. Moscow is almost exactly due north of Cyprus, between them lies, Ukraine, the Black Sea and Turkey. We flew down over Ukraine then out and over Greece and around. Literally, we flew around Turkey. I wonder why! We are on Cyprus airlines. (For those of you who don't get the underlying sarcasm. The Cypriots and the Turks have been at war since the 70's when Turkey decided to take over part of Cyprus.)

The airport in Cyprus is interesting. It is similar to the Santa Barbara airport. It is very small and there are no gates. It kind of looks like a big airplane parking lot. They bring stairs up to the plane, but in the front and the back. You then board a bus to go to the terminal. I talk to the guys that were arguing on the bus. They are surprised that I am American. As I spoke only Russian on the plane, they thought that I was a Roosky. Dr. Gar-El asks if I am Jewish… okay. This day is getting weirder.

At immigration, I see Marco and Barbie. Marco is in the EU passport line. Hmm… interesting. He is not Roosky either. Barbie is however in the non-EU line. She can not speak a lick of English when the passport control is trying to speak to her. An immigration officer is walking around. He stops in front of me. American? Yup! Come with me. He takes me out the line that had 10 people in front of me. He takes me over to his desk, swipes my passports, stamps and I'm out. The normal Russian glares are even colder than Moscow now… Hahah, Rooskies. It pays to be Americanski sometimes!

I collect luggage, no problem and meet my taxi. Nicosia (Lefkosia) is pretty neat. Cyprus overall overwhelmingly reminds me of California. All of the plants are exactly the same. Yea! Orange trees with oranges. The similarity to home makes me feel quite comfortable and happy. Maybe I am just happy to be out of Moscow in a place that I've actually wanted to go for some time.
I get to the hotel. I find out that since I'm now a Hilton gold member, I have been upgraded to an executive suite! Sweet! I also have access to the executive lounge… Yeah, I love Cyprus! Christos, the bellman, brings my bag and we go upstairs. We go to the room door and the key is not working. Christos uses his key and surprising an old English gentleman comes to the door. "A present for me?," he says. We all joke and have a laugh. Christos calls down and finds my room. It's a pretty sweet suite I must say.

I call Charis to let him know that I am here. We decide to go out even though it is about 9 p.m. He says Cypriots stay up all night. I slept on the plane, so I am good to go. Chari and I go to a café. I show Chari my Cali, family and travel pics and we catch up. I'm so excited to be here and he's so excited to have me.

Today was very "cold" in Cyprus. It got a bit chilly in the night. Chari decides to show me around town. We pack into his cute little Audi (of which I've never seen in the US) and trawl the town. I see a few Lotus and a Lotus dealer. The town is just getting better and better! It looks very similar to Palo Alto to me, with one exception. The city is divided… part is occupied by Turkey. As you get close to the border it is like going from the nicest part of Manhattan to the worst slum of Brooklyn in one block. Here's the beginning of the list about Cyprus:
-They park anywhere… it is as bad a Moscow with parking. I guess since it is an old city it wasn't really prepared for the deluge of cars that it now has. Charis and I parked in the middle of the sidewalk. Charis says the average Cypriot family has 3 cars.
-They drive on the other side of the road. The driving is crazy. No one obeys the signals, lines, etc. The roads are narrow and there are again interesting configurations.
-They have almost all of the American stores-- I see McDonalds, Pizza Hut, Starbucks (the biggest one I've ever seen), Tommy Hilfiger, Ikea, etc.
-None of the buildings are more than 5 or six stories.
-The city only has about 300K inhabitants.
-Cyprus overall only has about 800K people.
-This is the last year for the Cypriot Pound, next year they convert to the Euro.
-They have traffic lights, not just round abouts.
-Oranges are in season right now and are amazing.
-The food is awesome so far! Lots of nuts and fruits… yummy cheeses and meats… and don't worry. No poultry for me. We are too close to Turkey.
Well, I'm back at the hotel. I have to get tons done tomorrow, so I'd better hit the sack.
Night!
Amanda
P.S. Remember the archive is at http://amandastravel.blogspot.com/ I have also put up pictures there. I may be a bit lax on getting this one up. I have tons of plans for this weekend. I'm sure there will be tons of fun stuff to report.