I have always depended on the kindness of strangers…

I have come to the conclusion that people, in general, rock. Sure there are some bad apples here and there, but generally...I'd have to go with total rock-age.

Let me explain how I have come to this conclusion. First, I suppose a bit of background is in order. At this point in my travels, I had just arrived in Moscow. Let's just say that Russians in general, and Muscovites in particular, are not known for their friendly, helpful attitude toward foreigners (or pretty much anyone, for that matter.)

Before I tell you about the supreme awesomeness of humanity, I need to explain the decidedly un-awesome state of the arrival procedures at the airport in Moscow. After landing, we were all herded off the plane. The people who were continuing on to Singapore had to find a special transfer gate, and the rest of us had to do...something else. What might that be, you ask? Well, that's a very good question. Apparently it involves filling out a form (in duplicate, of course) and then standing in a long line to present one's passport along with said form to an official in a little booth. Sounds simple, right? Well imagine that the forms are not in an obvious place, and that the assorted lines to various booths are all labeled with different colors and different phrases in Russian. Also keep in mind that you, dear traveler, speak no Russian apart from "yes" "no" and "thanks." Not what I would call the easiest arrival procedure ever.

So I managed to randomly select an acceptable line, and I even found a very nice American student to chat with. He will be spending a year studying in Irkutsk. It makes my 4 months away from home seem paltry when compared to spending an entire year without access to all the people and amenities one relies on at home. I handed over my forms, got my passport stamped, and it was time to reclaim my bags. Once again, I found that this was easier said than done. The names of the cities from which the flights had arrived were written in Cyrillic characters, and the baggage claim area was packed with people standing shoulder to shoulder. When I finally reached the correct carousel (down a hallway away from all the others, by the way), a flashing red sign was announcing "last call" for reclaiming baggage. I go to my bag just as an airport employee was reaching to remove it from the belt and take it god knows where. Disaster averted!

I collected my voluminous luggage and headed for customs. Having nothing to declare, I just walked through the doors into the non-secured portion of the airport. I noticed that anyone who looked remotely non-white was being subjected to bag x-rays and/or further searches. I guess this is what it feels like to be in Arizona.

In the outer portion of the airport, I encountered another crush of people. Several people approached me to try to convince me that I needed a taxi or someone to carry my luggage. Some of them looked a bit dodgy, and I was aware of my vulnerability as a lone female with two big bags and not knowledge of the language. I obviously needed money, so I headed for an ATM, only to find that my credit card company was blocking my transactions even though I had alerted them that I would be traveling abroad. Fortunately, I had some cash to exchange.

With some Rubles in my pocket, I set out to find a phone to use to contact my host. After a goodly serving of fruitless wandering, I asked a family that I recognized from the plane for help. They turned out to be Americans originally from Moscow, and they were absolutely fantastic. They told me that if there were any public phones around, they would require phone cards, but they offered to let me make my call on their cell phone. I got in touch with Sveta, and we made some overly-broad and confusing plans on where, how, and when to meet. My saviors with the phone still weren't through; they not only explained to me how best to reach the location Sveta had chosen but also helped me find the bus that formed the first leg of that journey.

On the bus, another kind stranger helped welcome me to Moscow. Her English was quite good, and we discussed the differences and similarities of her life and mine. She was astonished that we have mushrooms in America, and I was equally astonished that she is able to gather them within a city of over 12 million people. I got off the bus and managed to lug my bags down a long flight of stairs into the Metro. As I stood in front of the ticked booth, clearly flabbergasted, another kind soul helped me buy a ticket for the number of rides I wanted.

I was still confused about what connections I was going to have to make, so I approached some other tourist-y looking folks for help. They weren't much more familiar with the system than I, but they gave me a map of the Metro that proved very useful. The next person I asked circled the stations where I would have to make connections. When my bag wouldn't fit through the turnstile, yet another person jumped in to help me by pointing me through a larger space and carrying one of my bags for me. When I showed him on the map where I was heading, he helped me find the right train and then even insisted on accompanying me through all 3 line changes! He took me to the last train I needed to find, where yet another person noticed that I clearly lacked confidence on the Metro. She helped me with my bags and even phoned Sveta to find out which of the two exits she was waiting for me at!

As I headed up the stairs to meet my host, herself a stranger who had agreed to let me stay with her and learn about her city, I couldn't help but be amazed at how much people freaking rock. (Ok, maybe not so much those who design airports, but pretty much the rest of the population.) Thanks to all these amazing people and their random acts of kindness, what could have been a very stressful nightmare of an introduction to Moscow was instead a life-affirming experience. So yeah. YAY PEOPLE!