I never thought I’d be blogging from an airport in Russia — much less over wi-fi at Moscow’s cosmopolitan airport.
In the only true way to arrive in Russia, the ground was blanketed with snow. Wonderful. I must be the only person to have ever arrived in Moscow without a winter coat. But that’s another story.
Hard to believe that, with the proper ticket in hand, you can be across the globe, cheese toast in hand, before your neighbors at home are awake to walk the dog. And it doesn’t feel so strange here; Bill Bentley Irish Pub in the foreign departure zone feels like a juxtaposition of a Brighton Beach diner over the real thing.