The Irish Bar at Sheremyetevo 2


I was up at 5 a.m. packing my 12 bottles of vodka. I do not travel light when returning from a trip to Russia. My purchases almost always remain under $50, but over 50 pounds. This trip was especially loaded as I agreed to take a fellow American’s winter clothes back for him. One of my bags was 3 kilos over, and I spent 10 minutes rearranging my luggage. Shifting books, shoes and rolls of film from one bag to the other. It was still not enough and I had 1.5 kilos to go. So, as much as I dreaded the extra weight in my carry on, I took out the metal tin containing a decorative 1 litre bottle of vodka from Chuvashia from the depths of the green duffle and placed it on the countertop of the Delta check-in. Someone may have mistaken it for a bribe, but I had no intentions of giving it away at this point. I zipped up the remaining 32.7 kilos of paraphernalia with a proud grin on my face, wiping the drips of sweat from my eyes. The check-in woman, satisfied that she had done her job properly, smiled a sweet relaxed smile, no sweat anywhere near her body.

Why they couldn’t allow the total weight to rule remains yet a sign of continual bureaucracy. It could be Delta more than Russia, or perhaps she just wanted to see me sweat.

I also discovered that due to new anti-terrorism rules, they check every piece of luggage. It was nearly 30 minutes for them to go through all my luggage. The man was obliged to tell me that he could only allow me 5 litres of booze, after I proudly declared I had a whole case. What was I thinking? I could have said it was bottle water, but he probably wouldn’t have believed me. He called his supervisor over, who said he didn’t care what brand it was, and that people bring all sorts of stuff, like Russian black bread. I laughed and said I have 4 loaves of bread as well. Cautious about how friendly and desperate I should be, I smiled and tried charming him, bracing myself for an argument I already felt doomed to lose. I was hedging my bets that an American girl with a half kilo of Mishka candy, 4 loaves of bread, a small jar of caviar, a litre of Kvass and 12 bottles of cheap vodka is probably not a high security risk. I won. He let me go.

The total value of it all, was, oh, $30 probably. Aftet all of my luggage had been searched, the man behind the table came round to help me put the garment bag back inside the huge blue and red checkered plastic bag I bought at the market yesterday for $3. It’s the traditional shop-tour bag that Russian merchants use to transport their bundles of cheap clothes from Turkey and China. I have several of them at home. Although I’ve only been to Turkey once, and I’ve never been to China.

When I left Russia in 1997, I arrived at the airport using Valerie’s truck. I had 9 bags (7 of which were those big blue plastic checkered ones), a bike, which I boxed up on site at the airport for $15 and 2 cats in a carry-on. I paid an extra $900, although it would have been less if I didn’t reveal the contents of my carry on. I pulled Misha and Shurik out of the bag before they hit the x-ray machine. It would only have encouraged the animal rights people as their tiny little empty stomachs would be x-rayed, exposing my starvation method of transport. After all, 9 hours on a plane is a long time for a cat to hold itself.

The memory of my final departure a distant one, I stood there dripping with sweat. I finally got through customs and check-in only to proceed to passport control. Hot and still dripping, I felt as though this mornings’ shower was weeks ago. Passport control was relatively painless except for the plump Russian woman with henna head who moused her way past me in the cue, claiming that she was first as she looked back at me and rushed to the window. Too tired to react, I waited a few more moments.

I turned right and wandered around the airport, dragging my now 40 pound hand luggage with me, the extra bottle of vodka and 20 rolls of film I had to add in order to lighten my check-in luggage tugging on my shoulder. I was grateful they do not yet weigh hand luggage. The thought of spending an hour at check-in dining on brown bread, caviar, chocolate and vodka was one that turned even an iron stomach to jello. More shops, more stuff to buy, and $9 for Irish Stew at the Irish Bar. It was just noon, and I was looking forward to a cool pint of cidar. Sadly, the Irish bar is no longer Irish, except in name. Perhaps that still is Guinness they pour from the tap, but in place of Kilkenny, Harp and cidar, there is Bochka and Pilsner Urquell. I suppose the remaining Irish brews disappeared years ago, along with the Irish. I ordered a Pilsner Urguell, an excellent Czech draft and the $9 Irish stew. With nearly 2 hours until my flight, I didn’t think I could wait for the free airplane food. Besides, the Irish stew really did taste like Irish stew.

Sheremyetevo is shaped like a horseshoe, so if you go the wrong direction, you end up at a dead end and must return the other way. I saw that my flight seemed to be delayed by 20 minutes. However, at nearly 1 p.m., I discovered it was the Aeroflot flight that departed at 1:35, not Delta. Scrambling with my awkward 40 pound duffle, I searched for someone who might be able to tell me where the Delta flight was. I saw a young female airport official emerge from a door in the internal wall, and I must have said, “izvinitye” at least 7 times, a bit louder each time as I trudged closer and closer to her. No response at all. I then approached a kiosk attendant selling magazines and asked her where the Delta flight was departing from. She said gate #1 usually, the only gate in the U I didn’t see. Quickly, I dashed to the end and was quite the last one on board, almost finding myself stranded amongst the matrioshki, $9 snacks and $12 miniwine bottles.

Funny thing, I thought that I could buy a small bottle of wine that would be cheaper than the airplane wine at $5 a bottle. I had forgotten to get wine on my way to the airport in the city. It was too bad, because as it turns out, the minibottles were 280 rubles a piece, or nearly $12!! Are they crazy? It’s only American carriers that are charging for booze. Not only are smokers deprived of their habit for 10 hours, but now they have to pay for drinks to compensate for it. I didn’t see a lot of drinking going on, even considering it used to be such a hedonistic journey in the good old days. There weren’t even that many adopted kids on this flight. There has been some new legislation lately in Russia banning or restricting adoptions. There have been a few cases of abuse and deaths among adopted Russian children in America. It’s a shame that a few horrible cases may ruin it for the hundreds of good, healthy, successful adoptions. I suppose that’s a story for another day.