The morning light is blue – daytime with a sunrise behind Moscow’s thick gray cloud cover. We’re on the aeroexpress – people are giving orders on their cell phones. A baby in front of us sounds like a miniature angry cow – “Mmm! Mmm!” And a pair of Russians next to us have opened up a bottle of cognac and bars of chocolate with cheese on black bread – some early-morning alcohol to calm the nerves, I guess.
We’re sleep-deprived. We always stay up too late packing the night before.
I’ve been so excited to go on this trip – planning it, looking forward to it, daydreaming about it. Yesterday I could hardly concentrate on my work – I was too excited.
I wish that you could fly away from your trouble; buckle your safety belt and let a jet take you above the clouds, leaving worry, exhaustion, pressure, doubt and failure behind you.
I feel trapped in Moscow sometimes, like a fur-frizzled hamster spinning nowhere on a wheel. I get desperate – and feel trapped for hours in the office, claustrophobic in our two-room apartment.
I’m excited for this trip because I want to get away. I want to relax. I want to leave behind all my worries and cares – the daily grind that wears on you; the scramble and fight that plagues big cities. I want to get swept up into something bigger than myself. I want to see my family.
I know that jumping ship won’t magically make everything better, but I’m excited to have a 3-week break, and I’m so thankful for the chance to rest!