The Bus, The Plane and Why We Should Have Taken the Train.

So, after months of panic, visa issues, HIV test and second guessing the GBP/RUB exchange rate, it was finally time to be a man and leave Torquay, Manchester and eventually Heathrow in my tracks and land in St. Petersburg without a hitch. But that’s when it started to go wrong…

While on the plane, the idea of taking advantage of the complementary alcohol seems like a good idea, not for now but for the bus ride to Petrozavodsk, hoping that it doesn’t have an adverse effect on the Dutch courage or worsen the nerves.

Having thought we had all cleared passport control and baggage reclaim some of us left the airport with high hopes of getting to Petrozavodsk before midnight (even if it was a six hour bus journey that I can safely say none of us were looking forward to). But unfortunately British Airways had misplaced someone’s suitcase for Petrozavodsk and numerous other people who travelled with RLUS to St. Petersburg with us. 

We waited in the foyer of the airport, casually getting to know one another and suddenly it dawns on me that, I am, in fact, in Russia. The signs in Lubkovo Airport might be in English but this will be some of the last English words I see in advertising which will suddenly be replaced by «ардена» followed by miles and miles of forest. I guess that serves me right for choosing Petrozavodsk in the first place. Panic begins to set in and I hope that «Я не понимаю!» or «конечно» will suffice for any given situation.

Eventually, we are joined by the unfortunate one who lost his suitcases. We are then greeted by Sasha, who calmly stands there waving while looking more interested in each drag of the cigarette he has in his mouth that introducing himself. Did I mention he is one of our lecturers?

The bus arrives to drive us on the long, arduous journey to the Republic of Karelia, the large amount of us are eager to get on the road and get our suitcases packed on the bus, but the driver has other ideas. He tells us that they don’t need to be packed underneath the bus, just put them on the back seat… all thirty or so cases. This whole experience ruined the student chant “There were [insert number here] on the back seat of the bus”. We finally set off, hours later than planned but hey, we’ve finally hit the open road.

The roads are long in Russia and not the best standards with our bus driver, who is currently on his mobile phone, swerving in an attempt to dodge numerous potholes or maybe he’s been at the cheap vodka and likes scaring English or International students half to death. Each time a huge swerve to the left was felt all one could do is hope nothing was coming the other side as they are preparing to overtake the countless HGVs seen on the road.

We pull in after a few hours to a small shop in the middle of the forest when its pitch black with a few men sat outside grilling various types of meat. This is made to look more like a horror scene with a Volvo with its boot open to show everyone the three carcasses in the back. We hastily board the bus to try and get out of the newly named “Meat Shack” and Sasha informs us its only “90 minutes away”. How wrong he was.

A few kilometres down the road, the back of the bus seems to be shaking, while it is natural for it to shake from time to time, suddenly without warning huge clouds of smoke coming pouring out the car. The majority of us seem to think that we won’t be getting close to Petrozavodsk any time soon and I don’t want to be there to deal with a pissed off babushka having to stay up until the wee hours. A voice calls out from the back and compares the likeness of our situation to that of Jeepers Creepers 2 which inevitably leads to some scared faces around.

The driver just gets out and picks up a hammer and two chisels in an attempt to fix the problem and Sasha explains the situation: “We won’t be moving for some time, so just go out and play but not in the middle of the road”. Off the bus, we are open to four of Russia’s biggest problems; Bears, wolves, Russian drivers and Russia itself. He is still hammering away and then decides to give the engine a rev, the sound is ear splitting and those vibrations cannot be doing this any bus any good.

Finally, the bus seems to having calmed down, those vibrations are still there but have died down and as Willie Nelson says it best, we’re “on the road again”. The next 100 odd miles are just a blur; we all just want to go to sleep and are apprehensive about our first conversation with our host families.

Arriving in Petrozavodsk, the end is almost in sight. There is a bed somewhere in this town calling for me. But one of the biggest tasks is still to come… The suitcases that take up the entire back seat and then some are needed by people as they are getting dropped off near their various houses. I am not the first one but the second time we stop, my name is called out and unfortunately my two suitcases are underneath almost everything. I get off the bus with my suitcases hoping to see my host family who I only know is called Tatyana. But then I am told by Sasha to get back on its a few more kilometres down the road.

The end of the beginning of the journey has come, I feel tired, exhausted and the last thing on my mind is Russian and case endings. Luckily, my host mother used to be a teacher of English and did some higher education classes in it so she decides to give me the day off and allow me to speak a bit of English here and there over a cup of tea. Having been told via email only my host mothers name I assumed that it was only two of us. I was wrong, her 19 year old daughter Lea is asleep and her husband is at his job where he works 24 hour shifts with three days off after.

But time has come, I must hit the hay but and soon as I lay down, I now cannot sleep and its 3a.m. here but only midnight in the UK. A few hours later and I am out for the count. I told Tatyana that I was intending to wake up for 8.30 for breakfast but I severely doubt that will happen.