The Smell of Moscow

Of the five senses, I think smell is the one with the best memory.  At least that's what my first thought was after taking a deep breath of air outside the Moscow airport.  The air has a smoky quality that seems to impart just enough second hand nicotine to make you feel a buzz.  Or maybe I'm just feeling giddy about returning to Eastern Europe after coming home from a mission in Ukraine three years ago.  Whatever the case, that smell has triggered a flood of beautiful memories, and as the day has unfolded I've been relishing this sensory overload while getting settled in Moscow.

Several people have asked, "How does it feel going back?"

Well, anticipating this trip has been a lot like what Katniss Everdeen must have felt when she was chosen yet again to compete in the Hunger Games.  Although I deeply loved my time as a missionary, those who have served can attest to how brutal some parts of a mission can be.  And so I've been trying to shake this "Quarter Quell" mentality that's been giving me a hard time dissociating life as a missionary in Eastern Europe and what life will be like as a civilian here.  But this struggle is quickly being swallowed up by how much I love Russians.

Thanks to Dasha, Yulia, and Yulduz (not pictured) for helping me get settle in Moscow.

In the coming months, I'll probably talk a lot about how much I love Russians and their beautiful culture.  And I'll start with this:

A taxi driver named Igor was holding up a sign at the airport with "Carroll" written on it, so I go and introduce myself.  After establishing that I'm the only Carroll that could possibly be in Moscow he kindly takes my baggage and shows me to the car.  He sits down, starts the engine, plugs in my destination into his GPS, and then says to me, "Hang on a sec, I'm gonna have a smoke."  And so right there by the side of the cab he quickly puffs through a cigarette before we set off.  The entire way to Moscow University he tells me absolutely everything I need to know about Moscow, about how he was born there, about how well his dacha is doing this year, and with a particular gleam in his eyes he tells me about how much he is looking forward to gathering mushrooms in the forest later in the season--I just love Russians!