Russia. A travel log.
The Serbian airport had an enigmatic stillness to it, like that of a rural Eastern European village forgotten by time. Old world simplicity resonated here. It was quiet. Peaceful. But I still felt a little unsettled. I flicked pages from my passport and turned to my Russian Tourist Visa. The toil I had to go through to get this. Travelling back and forth Dallas and Houston was a bumpy trek for sure, and all for that for a shiny piece of paper entitling me entrance to one of the most mysterious countries of the world. I felt elated, yet nauseous. The final call to board from Belgrade to Moscow was announced. I shuffled to get my things together I flip open my passport handed my boarding pass to the attendant. "Enjoy your flight," she said. I hope so. I thought. Day 1 I arrive at Moscow Sheremetyevo airport with absolutely zero knowledge of the language and no clue how to arrive at my AirBnB. I breathed in a little and focused on the first steps. SIM card. My smartphone was ...