Golly —- I am sitting in the slightly less than beautiful airport of Samara, which is about 1000k east of Moscow. Hardly know where to begin. It is midnight and I would much rather be in bed. Basically our TCS plane came to St P. and the weather cooperated and apart from the zillion or so other visitors, we had a good time. We had a wonderful dinner in the Throne Room of Peter the Great’s palace at Peterhof.
This epic man (6ft 8 ins tall no less) had been to Versailles and said he wanted something better and it’s a 50/50 toss up which is grander. It’s baroque on Speed I can tell you, with exquisite hand made 18th century Chinese silk ‘wallpaper’ and much much more. As the dinner was on July 4th, I had brought some good Amurrican flags from Brooklyn to go on the tables and the pax thought that was the icing on the cake. The room itself is all gold and mirrors and totally over the top and they were all blown away by the grandeur and agreed that they would never ever again dine in somewhere so grand.
Anyway, I am now en route to Yerevan the capital of Armenia, doing a scout for a trip next year. I am with me ole mate Nelly, and it’s like traveling with an over solicitous maiden aunt….I shall have to tell her soon to stop asking me if I am alright ……
We started this morning, having waived bye bye to my plane, which went off to N Finland and all the mossies looking for fresh blood up there. We, meanwhile, bravely checked in with the sullen Irina for the Air Samara flight to … yes, Samara.
Nothing like my big bag being able to be checked through on our connection to Yerevan. This just doesn’t seem to happen in Russia, so u are perpetually claiming and rechecking your bag .. only good thing I spose is that you do know it is hopefully progressing along the line with you. No such luxury as seat numbers either, but the resourceful Nelly has had a word with someone and we are going to have protected seats .. “Ha” I said, fat chance …. but the reality was we were bused out to the plane and then stood in a line in the sun, which is another nice Russian practice and can be carried out in rain or snow also. They force you off the bus, which will drive off in a cloud of cheap fuel exhaust and then it gives you the chance to check the plane with a close once over and kick the tires etc etc. Nelly meanwhile wormed her way to the front and when we were permitted up the steps I held back as I know all would be well.
Boarding just about last, I met the adorable Natasha who probably was a big baby and has gone forth and grown ever since … boy, she was BIG and her vivid blue uniform, a Ia KLM, did not help. She was semi-overwhelmed at having a foreigner on board and had about 5 words of English. She must have told the boys up front as in flight they took it in turns to come and stare at me. N and I sat two rows from the front with the backs of the empty seats ahead of us pushed down, so I happily put my feet up after take off as they would not have cared if I had done it before either and the rather pouty young slip of a thing opposite, with much in the way of streaked hair, pulled out her cellphone in flight and made a call, which wudda had her arrested in the USA.
We were most comfortable (well as much as you can be on a TU134 aircraft). N had warned me and I had already suspected that leaving at noon on a 2.30 mins flight would probably mean drinks only, but having made a sweep down the cabin with water and juices (and half bottles of J Walker Black for your inflight purchase and consumption) then they reappeared with styrofoam snack boxes and we had more food that a transcontinental flight gives you in the USA. I was even offered more salami should I care and we all became buddies. I even managed to do a swap (with the help of N) with a pair of World Airways wings for Natasha’s rather cheap looking tin ones, which the collectors will be fighting for I know.
Here endeth this lesson. Just wait for the near naked sunbathers on the banks of the River Volga in Samara. Average age 50 and not slim… oy oy oy.
timothyvalentinestravels 