The long way home.

It halted Napoleon’s 500 000 man march, it threw a spanner in Hitler’s Blitzkrieg and on Friday night it had me second guessing: “What the hell was I doing in this mad country?”
Friday started mediocre enough. There was a bit of rain about (enough to give Wivanhoe a good top up), and a strong wind blowing. The temperature was 8-10 degrees, normal for a typical autumn day here in Vlad.
The morning had Anatoly, Nastya and I running around town, organizing my registration. As a foreigner you must be registered to a particular household or hotel, just in case the authorities want to have a chat to you. If you leave the country your registration is canceled and, therefore, as I had traveled to China my new registration was long overdue. I am not too sure of the normal foreigner registration process, but I don’t think it involves back door entries into police departments followed by a chat in a dingy little office, where your details are scribbled down manually in a log book.
Once done with all the red tape, off to EF I went, where I was scheduled to take 3 classes. A one on one tutorial was first up, followed by an elementary children’s class and finally finishing with my favorite class, Business English. As I was preparing for Business English Masha (a fellow teacher) suggested I take a look outside. Peering through the window, I couldn't believe my eyes. The whole landscape had changed. It was almost lunar in appearance. Snow had covered everything transforming the once familiar street.
Now, my impressions of snow were that it was supposed to be fun. Light and fluffy, I romanticized all through my last class about stepping out into that winter wonderland.
How wrong I was. The winter wonderland was a full-on blizzard, with minimal visibility and snow that was more like a “Slurpee” you’d pick up at “7 Eleven”. Wading through the knee deep slush I proceeded to look around for my car. The car had disappeared! Where I had previously parked the jeep, now in its place, was a rather large snow mound. “How the hell am I going get into my car?” “Will I even be able to drive through this blizzard?” Many questions raced through my mind at that instant; however, one remains etched in my memory. “Wasn’t it only two weeks ago, that I was lazily tanning myself at the beach?!” Oh yeah, winter had arrived with a bang all right, only 6 months of this blunderland left!

The journey home that frosty Friday was epic to say the least. Normally a 5min trip just up the road, that evening it took me a hellish 35min to get from work to the car park. Even a 5km per hour, I saw my life flash before my eyes more than once. Brisbane has its’ fair share of rough weather. I’ve driven through some pretty bad cyclones, however, this blizzard through me completely off my game. Trees collapsed around me under the weight of snow, mesmerizing cars slid elegantly across the road, my fingers had lost all feeling due to the cold and for some reason I could not clear the fog off my windscreen.
Making it to the 24 hour car park was just the beginning, for ahead was a good 10-15 min trek home in good weather. Could it possibly get any worse? The answer was, you bet, as freezing winds ripped through my clothing. Right from the start I should have followed my intuition and just spent the night in the car, as the wind and snow was like something you’d watch on an Antarctic documentary. I began my normal root home towards the 75 degree hill with understandable trepidation. Looking down at the base of the hill the foot prints had long ago ceased. No one that evening had attempted the climb it. How hard could it be? Was there even another way home? If there was it was certainly going to take me a lot longer. To climb or not to climb was the question?! I had no choice, this was the only way home I knew. Slowly and very carefully I began to ascend. Half way up I thought “yeah this is going well, it’s not too hard, those soft Russiaaaaaaaa!” Legs, arms, and briefcase spun wildly through the air as I ceremonially rolled end over end to the bottom of the hill. Completely saturated, freezing cold and with the blizzard unbelievably intensifying, what on earth was I going to do next? Challengers like this are what real men are made of I thought, as I trekked off into the unknown. It was 10.30pm, not a sole to be seen anywhere. Vlad’s street lighting had long ago been cut and now my whole body was now shivering out of control. As the winds howled around me I stumbled hopelessly through the slush and one thought crossed my mind. Is this the beginning of the end? What about hypothermia? My fingers, toes, ears and face were stinging with cold and I had no idea which way to turn next.
For 10 minutes I shuffled head hunched, fists clenched, jammed deep into my pockets and then emerging out of the gloom I saw a building. “Please let me in,” I cried to myself. “I don’t care who you are just let me in so I can get warm!” It was just my luck again, not a sole to be seen anywhere. Then just as I was about to pass the building the faint glow of a cigarette caught my eye. Rushing over, the young man smoking the cigarette could see the distress written all over my wet face and proceed to punch his security code into the door, letting me into the apartment blocks stairwell. Warmth at last! Man, my fingers hurt! “Znaesh gde dom 84?” I asked the young man. “Ne daleko, vverh po lestnice.” Fantastic it wasn’t too far and I was on the right track.
Finally I bit the bullet and pushed back out into the madness, this time with a better idea of how to get home. 30min later I stumbled in the door much to Nastya’s astonishment. I had made it home!

A hot bath does wonders for frozen fingers and toes!

The morning after!