A massive grey Irizar coach rolled up and picked us up (and only us). Short-lived joy gave way to reality as we picked up 25 more passengers 15 minutes later.
But still, this thing is beautiful. Everything except a rock 'n roll star is in this bus! Toilet better than any aircraft.
(No head scarf required for women, and no photos allowed inside.)
Two hours later we reached the border. Our motley crew spent 75 minutes shuffling through 4 sets of checkpoints, all under the foreboding eyes of two stone fortresses. And lots of guards.
I suppose it's time to be philosophical. Russia shoved our minds into new directions - it amazes and surprises and intrigues and irritates. Especially we who grew up being told how bad things were on the other side of "the red curtain" and little more than that.
So how can I summarize this trip? What do words really mean?
Is:
"West" a direction? or a place?
"Freedom" a reality? Who has it?
"Border" an invitation? or a refusal?
"World" is it home? or a battleground?
"Old lady" irrelevant or truly reverent?
"Tradition" a handicap or a teacher?
"God" an illusion? opiate of the masses?
Do icons serve as a doorway into a real world, with real people and reality itself inside, transcending the centuries?
That's part of what I've been pondering while here in Russia.
If this reality is in fact real, it is worth hanging onto, and the Orthodox here have been holding firm for 1000 years; through peace and war, feudalism, monarchy and comrade-ism; Mongol Tartars and Nazis; summer heat and winter snowdrifts. Their life has been hard.
I see that we are approaching Tallin. Time to stop talking.
Stay tuned for the next icon adventure.
