When we arrived in Moscow, we were babes in the woods as far as foreign travel was concerned. As would happen, one of my bags was lost. (We didn't know that it was still in Atlanta. Scott had been notified that it would be sent the next day, but he had no way to contact us.) Everyone got their luggage and left except us. We stood there bewildered and tired. A man approached us, I call him "Mr. Trenchcoat". He looked like he was right out of a Russian movie. Dark trenchcoat and crew cut and not a smile on his face. He directed us to a desk where I tried to communicate with someone that I had lost one of my suitcases. Mr. Trenchcoat was "helping" me. I finally got a paper filled out. We could see the people waiting outside the security area on a TV screen. They could see us, but we couldn't talk.
Mr. Trenchcoat decided that I had too much luggage and he wanted some of it searched. How could I possible have too much luggage? We were allowed two suitcases each (total of four) that were up to 50 lbs each and then we paid $100 each for an extra suitcase (now the total is six). Plus we were allowed two carry-ons each (now the total is 10), but not really because one was missing. How could he possible think we had too much? Anyway, in his most furious voice he told me to pick a suitcase because they were going to search it and I had to tell him "everything" in the suitcase. Now we had been living out of suitcases for about 6 weeks. I had packed and unpacked them. Who knew what was in what. I tried to explain that Jack and I had been married a long time and that things were packed together. He said, "NO-I WANT YOUR SUITCASE." I was getting more and more nervous. I picked a suitcase and prayed. He took me over to the customs man, but first he pointed out a sign that said I would have to pay a fine. Fortunately for me, the customs man had no interest in looking at my suitcase. As I stood there helplessly, Jack asked if he could let the people that were waiting know that we were here. He was allowed to go to the door, but not go through.
The people there were David Stapley (our boss) and his wife, Lisa and Vlad Nechiporov (the man whose job we were going to take (he is a native Russian). David handed Jack a cell phone and
Jack came back to me. The phone rang. It was Vlad. He asked to talk to Mr. Trenchcoat (although he didn't call him by name). They had a conversation and all of a sudden we were not going to be charged a fine and we were good to go.
Who said we had too much luggage?
Old friendships renewed.
We left in one car and Vlad in another. We had not gone a mile when there was a policeman waving a stick and pointing it at cars to pull them over. He pointed at David. The easiest way to get out of the situation is to pay a bribe and drive on. We don't pay bribes so David spent about an hour sitting in the police car. Lisa called Vlad and he came back, but didn't want to interfere unless it got serious. Other drivers were pulled over, paid their fines and moved on. David was given a ticket and then we left. Let me add here that none of the drivers had broken any laws, they were just on the wrong street. We went to the Stapley's and spent the night.
The next morning we were driven to our temporary apartment. It was a shock to me. I have never lived in an apartment. This was an apartment that sister missionaries had lived in, but it was going to be closed down after we found an apartment. The apartment was very small.
The only explanation necessary here is that Jack was trying to hold the washing machine in place. It sounded and felt like an invasion when it ran and you can see how small it is.
We were shown the market by the young missionaries and somethings were explained to us, but between the jet lag and the language problems, when we went back to shop we didn't do very well. We could figure out canned peaches, top ramen, bread, cheese and butter. For the first few days that was about all we ate.
We called the airport and my suitcase had arrived. We had a form to fill out that included listing everything in the suitcase in Russian. I wasn't any better knowing the contents of that suitcase than the one the day before. One of the young elders filled out the form and we all went to the airport. The two missionaries and I went in and found the "lost luggage room". After filling out more papers the door was opened and we entered a room about 30 feet wide and 50 feet long with shelves full of suitcases up to the ceiling (about 12 feet high). We were lead to an area of shelving about 10 feet long and told the suitcase was in there. We finally found it and we were not allowed to touch it. It was taken to a man who looked at the papers that the missionaries had filled out. He said they were wrong because they had a Moscow address instead of a United States address. The poor missionary had to do it again, in Russian. All of a sudden, Mr. Trenchcoat showed up again. He said a few words and we were on our way.
About the fourth day, Jack started with a rash. The mission doctor thought it was a reaction to something. I didn't have a rash. The seventh night when I got in bed I felt really creepy, like something was all over me. I got up, turned on the flashlight, didn't see anything and told myself that I was just imagining things and to get my act together. I got back in bed and eventually went to sleep. The next morning I had a rash all over my body. Oops, not a rash, bed bugs. I told Jack that I was out of there. We called David Stapley and he came and took us to an empty home in an expat area and we stayed there for 2 1/2 weeks while we looked for an apartment.
We worked every day, looked for an apartment almost every day and finally found one after 3 1/2 weeks.
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