Back on the Steppe again

Good Morning Astana!! After a loooong two legged Lufthansa trip (JFK-FRAN, FRA-TSE) I am back on the Steppe again. Ready for another two months of adventure–who knows what lies ahead. I know one thing that doesn’t lie ahead–the School of World Languages but more about that later.
My flight from JFK to Frankfurt was the worst flight I have ever had in my entire life of flying. Lufthansa is one of the best airlines, don’t get me wrong but do they really think that we in economy class are sardines?? I have never been that uncomfortable for six hours in my life. I didn’t know where to put my legs. They didn’t fit in front of me, they sort of fit in the aisle, tripping everyone. Finally I went and sat back in the galley not being able to take it any longer. I was in such a snit when I got off the plane, I immediately went onto the Lufthansa web site and complained. Who knows what that will get me but maybe Lufthansa will take a row out or something and give us all a bit more leg room. Even the smaller people were suffering. Maybe this is Lufthansa’s way of getting more people to fly first and business class or the stereotype is true–they all are a bunch of Nazi sadists (just kidding).
The second leg of the trip was fine since I had an emergency exit row. My flight attendant was a cute gay boy and I’m sure if I was more in the mood to flirt, I could have gotten a seat in business class, but I was happy with where I was. A smooth landing in the dark winter night of Astana. A quick flip and stamp I was through passport control, my luggage already visible on the carousel and within moments I was arguing with a taxi driver about cab fare to my apartment. I was a bit amazed how quick I adjusted back into local life. Like a switch flipped from NYC to Astana in my brain, guess that’s what comes when you’re a high falootin’ world traveler like moi! As I drove home in the luxury of a Mercedes Benz, I got a bit sentimental for the old days in Russia when Artem used to meet me at the airport after my annual Christmas trip to the US. My young, handsome Russian boyfriend waiting outside of customs usually with a bouquet of flowers for me. He always had a car waiting for us and we pile all the suitcases full of gifts and new clothes into the car and head for home. We held hands in the darkness of the backseat, smiling at each other, making small talk, saving the more open, emotive language for when we got home out of ear shot of the driver. The house was always immaculate, Bancroft and Suly were there to greet us as well as Zhenya our friend. There was excitement and buzz over my arrival, Zhenya and Artem worrying over the bags, carrying them up the four flights. “Idi otdykhai” (Go relax) they’d say. The apartment wafted with the delicious smells of food being cooked–potatoes and mushrooms, soup, chicken. Homemade salads awaited me in the kitchen. The tea kettle boiled away until it was time for a pot of tea. It’s nice to be welcomed home like that. To know that somewhere, someone is waiting for you and makes a fuss about your arrival. Those were the thoughts racing around in my mind last night as I drove through the new part of town, past monolithic apartment buildings, the wind howling outside, with a stranger and his wife in the front seat of a Mercedes Benz.
Despite my lack of a welcoming committee, it was nice to be home in Astana, unpack my bags, have a cup of tea and hit the hay. Got up early today and headed right for the pool to work out all the aches and pains from yesterday’s flights. So good to stretch out in the water with all my new swimming accoutrement and get back into my routine of exercise. The constant eating and drinking that happens when you go home for a visit (why does every social event have to surround food and/or drink) gets a bit much. Next time I’m going to suggest other activities like walking or bike riding or an art exhibit. Well it’s good to be back and Irina is waiting for me at the office with plans and a lecture schedule. Let me get back on the Kazakh horse and get back to work.