My Soviet Angel

First nights are often difficult in environmental adjustments and sleep pattern difficulties.  While exhausted, sleep comes lightly and with a certain amount of restlessness.  Considering our accomodations, sleeping lightly may not be such a poor idea. 

 

A new city presents a myriad of challenges right from the start.  Orientation is a key element of any practical wandering around, so we took some time to wanter, orientate, observe locals for hints at customs and habits, and just take in what we could.  My first priority was to find a SIM card for my mobile telephone and buy minutes.  I think the non-English speaker last night told me to call a telephone number at 9 AM to find out about my missing baggage.  After some considerable wandering, I found an open store who sold me a SIM card and then tried to rip me off on minutes.  No matter.  A man outside the train station sells minutes for phones from a small table on the steps.  He even charged my phone for me.  Nice.  A call to the number listed on my Lost Luggage Form only resulted in men screaming at me in the ear piece of the telephone and alternately laughing and mimicing my voice.  Fun times.  No news on my luggage however.  So, I decided it was time to go to the airport and track down my baggage like an old coon dog.  I had no idea where to go, who to talk to, or what to say, but figured I'd have a better shot at it out there than on the phone.  

 

Backtracking to the airport was much easier than trying to get into the city the night before.  The bus driving had me sit near him, and was sure to let me know when the road to the airport approached.  Busses are not allowed at the airport I learned...at least not normal busses.  There are apparently special busses that go to the airport...but they don't really talk about them.  Just taxis are talked about.  Espensive, rude taxis are the only spoken of choice to and from the airport.  So, I walked.  I decided to go directly into the VIP entrance and see what I could stir up there.  A man was quickly introduced to me who walked me to the correct deske and found out my information for me.  In a serious tone he finally turns to me and says, "You have a problem".  No the words I wanted to hear right now.  He sighed and in very broken and quiet English went on to tell me my bag was at the Ariways Office in the city center.  I asked, "Baku"?, and he laughed.  Of course Baku.   I was shocked and in disbelief.  I mean disbelief that I did not believe him that my bag would have arrived so quickly.  Wow.  I asked him where the office was in the city, and he quickly dismissed the question with some vague hand waves and a grunt.  Oh well.  The trip back to Baku proper went very smoothly. 

 

Getting down to business looking for an office in a city was something like the old needle in the haystack endeavor.  Asking people resulted in being sent in three different directions.  No airlines office was to be found, and although interesting and fun, it was getting old walking up and down the same streets.  Then we met Natalie.  Natalie was a funny older woman who, despite the scowl on her face, appeared to have a real twinkle in her eye...like maybe something was going on inside her head most people never know about.  She was a Russian living in Baku, but still carried many of the characteristics we saw of older women during a trek across her home land.  She spoke very little Azeri, dismissing it as unimportant when we tried to tell our tale in that language.  "Russian", she said, is the bigger language.  Everybody should speak Russian.  She quickly said she knew exactly where the Airline Office is located, and offered to accompany us there.  So, we all climbed aboard a bus and off we went.  During the short ride, she handed over a ham and salami sandwich and said to eat.  She then handed over a cut apple and told me to eat.  She then had a small candy for desert.  She would not take no for an answer.  As we rode she pointed out sites anlong the way speaking in Russian with a certain pride and natural knowledge of the area. She also told me of her father who had proudly served in the Soviet military for most of his life.  He had been stationed in the Ukraine, Georgia, Azerbaijan, and many other places, with his young family in tow.  Natalie had grown up a military brat, making a home where ever her father was sent.  When asked if she was Russian or Azerbaijani, she replied neither, "I am Soviet", she said.   We finally got off the bus only to wind and wander through the small streets of Old Town.  I had started this adventure with Natalie with a certain amount of skepticism.  The possibility of her being a nice old crackpot was left open, as was the all too familiar fruitless chase for nothing.  Rounding one last corner, we came upon a glassed front office space with the name of the airline on it.  She pointed and made a big deal about finding it probably sensing my doubt along the way.  She seemed as excited as I was.  Walking in the door, a man promply asked, "Are you hear for the bag"?  He immediately whisked us to a back room to fill out more senseless paperwork and sign for the return of my bad.  In just a few minutes I was on my way with my stuff.  With a kiss, we said good bye to Natalie with many thanks, and we were on our way.