DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT FEELS LIKE...

Do you know what it feels like to be standing in a deserted snowy street in Moscow, Russia at 5:30 in the morning? well i do. There we were, huddled together underneath the florescent light of a 24 hour Subway sign, (which, as an eye witness, i can say is a bit of an exaggeration) trying to access their wifi to find a map to direct us to our hostel. Off in the distance we could hear Enrique Iglesias's "Do you Know?" playing from a 24 hour bar just down the street (hence the title, inspiration can come from the darnest of places). If you haven't noticed Russia believes that there is never a wrong time for sandwiches, beer, or flowers.

Only a few hours of arriving in Moscow and we were already getting a feel of how truly prepared we were for the trip. Without the assistance of, who we have now titled, St. Tim we would still be standing dumbfounded in the train station or wandering aimlessly down in the tunnels of the metro.
Disembarking my carriage i immediately went into "seek and destroy" mode, except in my case it was more "seek and destroy with hugs and cries of relief "mode. So when i saw the head of one of my fellow travelers i couldn't help but exclaim loudly with a hop and a skip to my step. I think everybody was just as relieved to see me as much as i was to see them, their fears of me captured by the mafia were finally ceasing.
We all shared our stories of our train ride, one of which included a creepy man who knew no such thing as a personal bubble as he tried to share his headphones. My story, well it went something like this... i spent my whole night in fetal position, cuddled up to purse, using the soft inside of my coat as a pillow case, draping myself in a sheet blanket. Sleep came in short bursts as a slam of the bathroom door would awaken me, and then some screw in the door dared to loosen itself from the door hinge and rattled all night long. Walking off the train i swear i could still hear it rattling in my head....mocking me. Mark was the luckiest of us all, no creepy men, no rattling screws, oh no...Mark spent his train ride sipping tea discussing the philosophy of...well honestly i don't know what boys talk about, so I'm just gonna say "boy stuff" with a bunch of highly educated, English speaking young men, one of which was St. Tim. A true blessing indeed for this boy, this man could use some male bondage time.
St. Tim guided us showing us the ways of the Moscow metro, and was even so kind to see us off to our stop, where he bidded us farewell as we boarding the escalator, headed up to the streets above

I would like to say that it's just the mirror, or the boots, or the coat, or maybe the combination of all three that's making me look like a hobbit, but now i can't be so sure. After believing i had a voice that somewhat resembles a female and then hearing my actual voice on a recording, i don't know what to believe anymore.
When i was booking our hostel online i read it was difficult to find and they weren't kidding! the location isn't difficult to find, but the fact that there is no sign complicates things a bit. After roaming up and down desolate streets and even stopping at a laundry workhouse to ask for directions, the mood of the group was well...let's just say it was safer if you didn't say anything at all. While everybody was slumping around, heads downcast, i however couldn't help but just smile and look up at all the gorgeous European buildings and architecture. I mean come on guys, were in Moscow, Russia! Yes, it was cold, but not piercing, the street lights just played up the beauty of the buildings, and the snow was so friendly! yes folks, snow can have emotion. 

Once we found our street name located on a side of a building, because that's just the way Russia does things, the search still was not over! we wandered up and down that street trying to find something, ANYTHING that even hinted of our hostel. I don't think i picked the best time when i said, "uhhh...did i mention it doesn't have a sign?" oh if looks could kill...

I got to know this street real well that morning, that tends to happen when you walk up and down something at least six times

Desperation was now becoming obsolete. After making an estimation of the general area our hostel was we began to just knock on every door and window we could find. I must have been knocking on one particular window a good ten minutes or so, determined that this was the right one and the only reason nobody was answering or why police where not showing up that a mob of American zombies had shown up at their door was because they were in the middle of a really good Russian soap opera. We had moved up to another door when then heavens opened and mercy was bestowed upon us in the form of a girl, who just so happened to be the girl who worked at the front desk of the hostel! she took us to our door, and guess what? it was the exact building that i had bruised my knuckles knocking on.

 

So here i am, feeling a gratitude for roofs that I've never felt before, writing this by book light as everybody else is snoozing away in bunks. My teeth are brushed, I'm in my comfy leggings, the holes in the thighs growing bigger every day, laying in a bunk, listening to the bells chime from the cathedral just up the street. With every move i make i can feel the hard coil springs in my mattress, and you know what?  i couldn't be happier.