Lost My Way to School
In the past, getting lost has never bothered me all that much. Although, it really bothered my sister a couple of times (sorry, Sis). I've always seemed to find a lesson in it somehow, or at least a new adventure. In today's 'Lost' episode (Moscow style), I simply got lucky.
The schools that I teach at are in various locations so its been a great enough challenge just learning how to use the metro and trying to figure out the cryllic names. Only the Lord (who I was praying to) knows how I found my way back to the metro station in the school's area. From there, it would have been ideal to telephone the school or look on a map. If only it were that easy. As my father has told me 'You always do things the hard way... ha ha ha."
On my first visit, I was accompanied by a Russian lady from the school for the 20 minute walk. At that time, I certainly found myself confused, but I did manage to find my way back from the school. This time, even though I knew I had never seen the address or the name of this school and couldn't reach anyone to ask before I left, I took a chance that I'd be able to locate it myself. I left myself lots of time in case I got lost. Unfortunatley, it wasn't enough time.
I had my map. I thought I'd try to call the Russian-speaking school administrator (who is the only person at this tiny little school). Too bad I don't know how to use the phones. If I had a Russian credit card, I might have handled it. Why don't I have a mobile phone like everyone else here? Oh yeah, no one will sell me one. I don't have the right kind of visa yet (you actually have to hand over your passport to buy a cell phone/SIM card here).
So there I was. Nothing looked familiar. I contemplated asking a policeman but THAT seemed risky. By the way, I wasn't just standing around lost. I was trying every possible metro exit and street, retracing my steps to the metro (I wasn't going to lose THAT place again). It only took 4 scenarios to find my way to the school and the students were only waiting 1/2 hour for me.
Luckily, this is a very kind class. They laughed at my gestures and drawings on the white board as I tried to explain 'lost' to them. It just happened to be an Absolute Beginner adult class who only had one other English lesson ever (taught by me). At the end of the class, one of the students suggested I drink vodka.
I don't know my lesson in getting lost on this occasion and I'm still not sure that I can find my way from that school again but I'm off now to find another school for another lesson for another class. Too bad I lost my gloves today.
Abroad at Last
Last week I left Calgary to get started on my new career of teaching English. There were still a couple minor details... getting a visa, for one. And then there's the logistics... how to get me and the stuff that is to keep me comfortable for the next nine months to Russia.
The cheap flight to Frankfurt was a no brainer; however, the next decision of train travel, as opposed to a quick flight, proved to be an adventure of its own. It only took one delayed train to screw up the rest of the trip from Frankfurt to the Hague (Holland). I had to switch four times - carrying this load. I'm talking stairs and escalators. Why are elevators always out of service when they're truly needed?
I found it difficult to maintain the elegance I pretended to have when hauling this stuff. At one point, a German gentleman insisted on carrying my big suitcase (which cost an extra $140 to fly) up some stairs. The Germans are really great that way but I'm sure he was cursing me after he broke all his nails on one hand (hopefully he thought I was American and not Canadian). Ouch!
The next morning (a few hours after waking my friend in middle of night) I headed to the Russian consulate office, conveniently located three blocks away. There were a few people lined up outside. No one offered any assistance so I pressed the bell - the bell was up three steep, narrow stairs so you have to step back down after ringing. A man peaked out and looked at me inquisitively. I looked up 'I'd like to apply for a tourist visa?' He gestured for me to wait then closed the door. So I waited, and waited, and waited. I got to know a little Japanese guy in the lineup. He told me his story. His company, which specializes in automotive parts, is sending him to Moscow for 4 years. He's not particularly looking forward to it but was really hopeful to get to get his visa on this day after trying on three previous occasions. He seemed to take it all in stride - maybe coming from another 'orderly' culture gave him an edge up.
When they let me, I remembered Alice in Wonderland and how she had no idea what was in store for her once she entered. In my case it was more waiting. The room was tiny but the waiting let me scope the rest of the goings on. There was a cashier with one lineup, a table for the 'screener' I first met to make sure the next visitors had the right lineup, and then the lineup which contained the most important authoritarian behind a cage at the end of it. The importance surrounding this person was obvious. All they had to say was 'yes' or 'no' - my fate was in their hands. In my case, she said 'no good', gesturing toward my Canadian-sized passport photo and something else I can't even remember anymore. Prior to this confrontation, I had a little help from a guy claiming to be 'special visa services'. He and three others were processing visas like nobody's business. They had stacks of passports and documents and would slip them in the cage when possible, sometimes letting lined-up folks, like myself, to take their turn. From observations on two consecutive days, it appears to be their job to lurk around there for the three hours the consulate office is open on week days. The guy who helped me (maybe because of the bewildered look on my face?) advised me to make some changes so I was back and forth a couple of times that day and ran out of time for the 'no good'changes I needed to make.
The second day went much smoother since I knew what to expect. The guy in charge barely looked at it and I got to go to the cashier lineup. I knew not to complain about the price as I had witnessed a dead, incredulous silence the previous day when some Dutch guy said in a loud voice ''Why so much?"
That taken care of, I had to wait out the five-day waiting period but, who cares, I was in Europe. I love Europe.
Stay tuned for more of my European Vacation.
