So we landed in Samara and the fun and games began … you were not expecting this just to be a routine story I hope? Nelly and I walk from the domestic terminal, lugging our bags, to the international one next door, avoiding the potholes and general air of dilapidation and beer cans that are a feature of all Russian airports and were expecting a 6 hours layover, which was bad enough but then discovered that it was worse and it was now 1500 and our flight to Yerevan would be leaving at 0020 …. ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh I am not happy (surprise surprise) but as this is all a spin off from the old Aeroflot days, then passengers are expected to accept the news and go bugger off and don’t complain. N had done all this without me and by the time she came back and told me, and I had thought a personal interview with the Air Samara gang would be in order (silly things like customer service, rights of passengers etc etc and more practical things like food and drinks) they had closed the door and were playing gone fishing, so perhaps they knew I was on my way over.
So there we stood looking forlorn and hot (it was about 85F) and wondering what to do, We had already interrogated the lovely Natasha in flight about what to do for 6 hours and she had happily told us that the city itself was no less than 60k away …. well to cut a long story short, I made the executive decision that much I like airports, there were too many hours to spend and I was going to go barmy (all right, barmier) sitting in a scruffy airport like this for hours, so we hired a very very clapped out taxi and N negotiated a rate to take us to town and back and generally show us around. Of course the roads were dreadful, with no lane markings, so was kinda like being back in Iran with traffic deciding how many cars abreast you drove .. better just not to look, but sitting in the front, I had no choice. Rolling green hills eventually gave way to urban sprawl a Ia Russe … awful bleak tower blocks of stunning lack of any imagination and suddenly there was a space rocket sitting on the middle of a roundabout … u just never know what you going to see I tell you… turns out Samara is where they make rockets and they want you all the know. Very nice it looked and I was suitably awestruck.
And then around the next bend there was the mighty Volga River rolling along and v impressive it was too… suppressed an urge to sing the V Boatman Song or even Old Man River and could see why such hugeness inspired great big music too. Locals swimming around and generally disporting themselves, this being a Saturday afternoon. Women in bikinis who mighta looked great 30 years ago but gravity had taken over in all directions and guys too wearing little enuf to have them arrested on an Amurrican beach, but this is Ia Russie and we are dedicated to turning pale pink to brown at every opportunity and I spose if u all look as awful as the next person then it really doesn’t matter.
Houses of all shapes and sizes – some like old Siberia, small wooden things with carved and decorated fronts and not looking too happy. Some splendid churches with several golden domes which look fabulous against the black clouds which suddenly arrived and a downpour ensued, just as we had decided that we would get out here and the man would come back at 8pm and pick us up.
The place had a very quiet look for a Saturday but I reckoned that it was hardly exactly hopping at any time. Old trolleycars wandering along their tracks too, all looking like they were driven by 17 year old girls. Pretty wooden houses, decorated a la Siberienne with extra pieces of carved wood around the windows and running under the eaves. And some old crones selling produce from their gardens … huge HUGE bright red strawberries that I knew wud be the same color all the way through and taste superb and then piles of jumbo black currants and I had an attack of childhood nostalgia so we bought far too many of each which we later on took with us to a restau and Nellie had them washed and after some blinis, we gorged until I was frightened for my inside and knowing that we had another 3 hr flight ahead of us and did NOT want to have to get caught short in a TU-154 lav which wud prolly NOT be the closest thing to cleanliness amongst other things, so we actually had to leave a third of each behind.
Anyway we wandered the deserted streets, I wanted some cash and Russia is awash with cash machines but they are mainly INSIDE the banks so if it is closed that you s.o.o.l. Doesn’t make much sense to have them behind locked doors but many things don’t make sense around here. Thought possibly I would try to find an internet cafe and the resourceful N started to interrogate strangers on the street, all of whom looked totally blank at the idea. I suggested the teen population would be a better target and even they had no clue…. had we finally arrived at somewhere sans internet ? Well in the end we did find one, in the post office, totally unmarked outside as to the fact that there was such a facility within, so no wonder nobody knew it was there, which had every impression of being closed and u had to push on all the doors to find the magic open one and then up the big stairs, with no one around, feeling like intruders.
Had a small panic attack on being arrested for breaking into the PO of Samara and being thrown in jail there and effectively disappearing off the face of the earth in consequence. Anyway suddenly there were some machines and they worked tres bien. There was also an ATM, so this was a doubly good stop and I said many spasibas to the poxy looking woman running the place. I thought her fuzzy pink mules certainly brightened up the Mother Russia/Soviet drabness of the surroundings too. Nothing like a Soviet style concrete, grey, slightly evil smelling and empty Russian post office to make you appreciate color.
Meanwhile outside a middle aged couple, bright pink from the sun and clutching beer cans were staggering back from the riverside. If you were to sew together the total amount of fabric used to cover them, you would have not come up with very much …. but there was an awful amount of them….
Golly, where does the time go ….lm now writing from the indisputably most miserable airport hotel I’ve ever stayed in, which is outside Domodedovo Airport which I’m sure you all know if fast becoming Moscow’s best airport … nice name isn’t it Domodedovo ? You actually pronounce the last ‘o’ as an ‘a’ if you are a real purist. Domodedova. Or just refer to it by its three letter code of DME.
Anyway I’m jumping ahead here and may just finish this message here and leave you dangling for all the news of latest shoe fashions in Yerevan, capital of Armenia and what life is like on board an Air Samara TU-1 54 and a sister ship operated by Siberia Air, where some of the crew distinguished themselves by standing up for the landing and thinking it was normal …. honestly, I nearly died ….
timothyvalentinestravels 