to journey and return.

These are some reflections on the Grand Eastern European Trip I took. You can read about the beginning of the adventure here. 

It's been almost a month since I returned from Semi-Unwise Foodie Road Trip Across Eastern Europe. (Quite literally--a month ago, I was sitting in a hotel room bed in Helsinki, Finland, trying to get some access to the WiFi by sitting in the corner and then standing on my bed, trying to get a signal.)

I still look back and wonder how we managed to pull it off.

But really. I remember sitting in my flat in Oxford, figuring out logistics. We had no idea what we were getting into or how planes would be delayed, how we'd end up not able to find our hotel room in the maze of streets, or how Briana would get terribly ill in Estonia. The fact that everything actually worked on this trip is nothing short of a miracle.

The fact that we're alive is also a miracle.

There are travel companions . . . and then there are Eastern Europe travel companions. With our combination of language skills, Krav Maga skills, brains, humor, and ridiculous good looks, Briana and I made a stellar travel duo.

[I mean. Amiright?]

I've always loved to travel. I really do believe--like Mark Twain said--that travel is 

 the enemy to bigotry:

"Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one's lifetime."

Leave it to Mark Twain to be blunt.

Along these lines, Briana and I also decided that travel is an antidote to apathy. Whenever you travel to a place, you care about it a lot more. You have a vested interest in a place, people, or culture, because in a way, it becomes a part of you. I will be a lot more aware of Hungary and Croatia now than I used to be. You don't necessarily have to travel to a country to love it, of course (I'm a big advocate of literature and history accomplishing the same goal of making you aware of a place), but it does help.

Of course, I know that there is more to a country than the touristy parts. A lot more. One of my fears is that I will just "taste" the world instead of feeling it. I want to embrace the world. And I hope (and think) that even though this trip was literally a whirlwind tour, I felt more than tasted. I tried to soak in the cities--the languages, the dress, the smells, the atmosphere--instead of just seeing what the world could offer me.

Of course, part of travel means the return. We have to learn to "journey and return." (See this song here--it is beautiful.) We explore, we seek, we experience, we find . . . and then we come home. We are never the same from what we see and experience. There are parts of ourselves we leave in distant lands. And there are things we gain--from walking along the Danube, from wide Latvian skies, to the maze of St. Petersburg streets.

But we return. Sometimes that landing is painful. Other times it is smooth. But we always return. And we hope that there will be people who we can share our moments with. And we hope that there will be other adventures. And the thing is? There usually will be.

But for the moment, I've returned. And I'm learning how to return with grace. All we can do is try, right?

Thank goodness I have the opportunity to journey and return. Not everyone is so lucky, I know. I just hope that I can use my experiences for good.

Song of the Day: All I Can See, by Brendan James

I want to walk through this doorway

I want to open my mind 

I want to pledge my allegiance to all I can find

I want a car that will crash through the barrier

To a road no one knows

I want to feel less control on the bend and I 

Want to land far from home. 

The revolution of the earth around the sun 

Is the perfect lesson of how it should be

So if I cannot learn to journey and return 

To never rest til I've seen all I can see. 

I want to learn a completely new language, 

One I don't understand. 

I want to help someone lost, someone helpless

With the strength of my hand 

I want to come to the base of a statue built

Before they counted the years

And there I'll fall with my face in my hands 

And cry and feel their hope in my tears. 

The revolution of the earth around the sun 

Is the perfect lesson of how it should be

So if I cannot learn to journey and return 

To never rest til I've seen all I can see. 

Train rides and pastures colliding

Colors and customs I've never seen 

I know I, yes I know I, 

I know I will stumble, but, 

Time is precious my friend. 

Those who journey can easily understand

The more they see, the more they'll learn, 

There more that they will be

So this I swear to you, and this I swear to me

I'll never rest till I've seen all I can see

No, I'll never rest till I've seen all I can see

I want to know where the strength of a person lies, 

In their past or their future

Is it in the way that they hurt 

Or they love themselves, or is it all an illusion? 

I want to crawl from this skin that I'm painted in 

Body, please let it give

I want to find the Creator of all good things, 

And ask what it means to live. 

Helsinki, I was made for you

I've wanted to go to Finland for years now. I remember first hearing about Finland when I was about three or four years old, when I heard my parents talk about my grandfather's LDS mission to Helsinki, Finland in the 1960s.

I've heard these stories, from my grandpa, from my grandma, from my mom, from my aunts and uncles . . . Finland is a special place to us because it was such a special place for my grandfather.

So, since Russia isn't that far away from Finland (to the chagrin of many Finns), I decided to fly to Helsinki before making the trek back to England.

And I'm so glad I did.

Even flying over Finland made me feel like I was entering an entirely different world from Moscow. There were so many pine trees and wooden houses . . . it was like flying into Santa's summer home. Helsinki had a much different feeling than Moscow. It's a Nordic country with a people who are incredibly proud of their independence, their language, and their history.

[Streets of Helsinki.]

[The train station. This is where my grandfather, as a nineteen-year-old missionary, was left stranded on his first night in Helsinki, with very little command of Finnish.]

[Helsinki Cathedral]

But at the same time, you can definitely see (and hear) the Russian influence. One of the main squares has a monument dedicated to Tsar Alexander II. And then one of the main cathedrals in the city is a Russian Orthodox Cathedral. Even though there are reminders of Russia, that's just what they are--reminders of the past.

[Statue for Alexander II in front of the Lutheran Cathedral]

[Uspenski Sabor--Cathedral of the Ascenion.]

Something I loved about Helsinki was just walking there. There was this clean, crisp feeling about the city. (And those Finns do love their clean, crisp design.) I also liked walking by the ocean and through the open-air markets. 

My favorite part of Helsinki, however, was going to the Helsinki LDS Temple. That was something that I really wanted to do when I was in Finland. Temples are very special places for members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. They are places where we make sacred promises with God to do good and to dedicate our lives to Him. They are also places of peace; places where we believe that heaven meets earth. 

They are certainly places of peace for me. I have felt God's love for me there and have gone there when I have to make decisions and need clarity and direction. 

Going to the Helsinki Temple was special to me because I had not been able to attend the temple for a few months, and also because I knew that the Helsinki Temple was so important to my grandfather. It symbolized God's love for the Finnish people. 

The Helsinki Temple is an international temple. People from Finland, the Baltics, and Russia all regularly come here to worship. While I was there, I participated in an endowment session (a temple ceremony), where the entire ceremony was in Russian. This was very special for me, especially since I haven't yet had a chance to listen to a temple ceremony in Russian. (I have yet to actually make it to the Kyiv Temple--it just hasn't worked out.) But to be able to worship in that language that I love and understand it? It was an amazing experience for me. 

Afterwards, I was talking with a very sweet temple worker. She was Finnish, and she asked me what brought me to Helsinki. I said that I was there because my grandpa had served a mission in Finland in the 60s, and I had always wanted to see this place. She took my hand and said that I was honoring my grandpa by traveling to Finland and attending the temple. 

"The missionaries who served here in the 1960s did so much good work," she said. "And now the people that they taught--and the children and grandchildren of the people they taught--are strong in the faith of Jesus Christ. The Lord loves the Finnish people very much. He sent us missionaries. And we have a temple." 

There certainly is a lot to love about the Finns. They are strong in spirit and devotion. They love their land. They love their language. And they remember those who love them. 

Oh, Helsinki, I was made for you, my dear. 

Kremlin with Anticipation

This is the second-to-last installment of Megan and Briana's Semi-Unwise Foodie Road Trip Across Eastern Europe, aka Eastern European Grand Tour of 2016. For the beginning of the adventure, please see this post here. 

I've been trying to think if I should start out this post with something sappy, like, "we left St. Petersburg as a grey sunrise dawned upon the city . . ." or something like that, but that would make the trip seem a lot more peaceful than it was.

Because let's be honest. Even in the most ideal of situations, travel in Eastern Europe is never smooth sailing.

I can't remember exactly how the trip to the train station went, but I think we went the wrong way at one point . . . good thing we planned in extra time to get lost and confused, because that always happens when you travel with me. Hurray.

But we made it to the train station and got on the fast train to Moscow (403 miles in 4 hours). Moscow in the summer is like most big cities in the summer: hot, crowded, smoggy, and smelly. Yet I love it. I really do love Moscow. I love its metro system, I love its history, I love its people. Some of my best moments of this trip were just sitting in Alexandrovski Garden, eating breakfast and watching the crowds pass by. Moscow has such a distinctive feel--in American terms, it feels like a mixture of New York and D.C., . . . but Moscow is its own entity entirely. And I love it.

[Red Square on a summer's day.]

We didn't get many pictures in Moscow together--Briana was scrambling to get settled in her new place before I left (and I had to leave all too soon because my visa was going to expire), so most of those Moscow days are simply committed to memory. But I was so grateful for another chance to see this remarkable city. Again, I hope I get another chance to go back. It's impossible to know where life will take me or the history of this world, but I do know that there seems to be a magnet drawing me back to all things Eastern Europe. 

. . . but the trip saga still isn't over. I had one last stop before heading back to England's green and pleasant land and then onto the land of the free and the home of the brave . . .

Helsinki. 

Rumors in St. Petersburg

Once upon a time in Tallinn, Estonia, Briana became very sick. That meant that I wandered the streets of Tallinn myself without my loyal partner in crime, and we both wondered if we'd make it to Russia. But, luckily (after some rest), Briana felt well enough to continue our journey into Mother Russia . . . and we found ourselves on a Soviet train to St. Petersburg. We are sure this train was built in 1981, which, my friends, makes it a Soviet train.

[Here we are contemplating the wisdom of our life choices . . . specificially whether it was the best idea to take a train into Russia.] 

But we made it safely to St. Petersburg and eventually found our hotel (seriously, it was the hardest hotel to find--it was close to the center of town, but it was like it was in some kind of alternate universe and we always had such a hard time finding it . . . weird). 

Briana was still sick, so she took our first day in St. Pete to recover, which means that I had full range of the city and could do whatever I wanted. So naturally, that meant . . . 

1. Finding the coolest bookstore in the world. I am in love with it. 

[love love love love love.]

[The only sad thing about this picture is that I couldn't take any books home with me because I had zero room in my already stuffed-to-the-brim travel backpack.] 

2. I also went to the Anna Akhmatova Museum. I love this woman and her poetry. And it was neat to be able to see the house she lived in. 

["Anna Akhmatova Museum."]

[Had to have evidence that I was actually there.]

[Gardens by her home. I couldn't take any pictures inside, but I made sure to write in the guest book to let that corner of St. Petersburg know that an American girl loves Anna Akhmatova's poetry.]

3. I just wandered in general. Parks, monuments, river, canals, islands . . . Petersburg lends itself to wandering. 

[The Summer Gardens]

[Walking along the Neva]

[Peter and Paul Fortress]

[Spac-na-krovi Cathedral]

That evening, Briana was feeling well enough to go outside and we went to the Mikhailskii Theatre to see Swan Lake. It was one of the most beautiful experiences I've had in my life. Truly. It was absolutely incredible. I've seen ballet before, but watching the Russian ballet was something completely different. The sets, the costumes, the orchestra, the ballerinas--everything was just perfect. I was so impressed with all of the ballerinas. Also, the prima ballerina played both the White Swan and the Black Swan--she was magnificent. There were times in the ballet where I was almost moved to tears it was so beautiful. Definitely a memorable experience. 

[The Mikhailskii Theatre]

[SO EXCITED!!!! Also, look at the Russian woman photobombing in the background. Awesome.]

[SO EXCITED!!!!!!! take 2]

The next day, we did some more sightseeing. We went to the Winter Palace and the Hermitage, were awestruck by the sheer wealth, size, and grandeur of the place, and then met up with another one of Briana's friends and had delicious Georgian food and then went to this really posh cafe for milkshakes. 

[In front of the Winter Palace. Briana and I chose the best colors to wear on a grey St. Petersburg day. Namely, bright yellow and neon pink. Go us.]

[The Hermitage.]

[In the Winter Palace. Look at those staircases. I was singing "Once Upon a December" to myself the entire time.]

[Dancing bears, painted wings]

[Opulence. I has it.]

[This was a picture commemorating the Battle of Borodino during the War of 1812. I decided that this is probably Prince Andrei from War and Peace dying on the battlefield. Poor guy.]

[So. much. gold.]

[On the steps of the Winter Palace.]

[Posh Petersburg Cafe.]

[They had everything there. Cheese, fine chocolates, vodka, sausages . . . Briana's friend Helen said that she always came here when she had to bring something nice as a gift for an interview.]

[Drinking milkshakes on a rainy St. Petersburg day.]

As always, there's never enough time to see or do everything that I'd like to in St. Petersburg. But it was nice to be able to get there twice this summer. Hopefully someday I'll be able to spend a longer time there. It has so many stories to tell. 

Sprint Across the Baltics.

Somehow, someway, somewhere in our trip planning, Briana and I thought that it would be a great idea to do all of the Baltics in three days. 

I think it went something like this: 

M: "Do you want to visit the Baltics?"

B: "Of course I want to visit the Baltics."
M: "Me, too. So it looks like we have to be in Russia by the end of July . . . so based on our other travel plans [which, by the way, at this point included Sarajevo . . . yeah, didn't happen this time around], we'll have about three days to do the Baltics." 

B: "Hmm, can we do it?"

M: "Oh, we can totally do it. Let's book a plane from Kyiv to Vilnius right now." 

B: "Okay, let's do it." 

Something like that. Or it might have looked less planned out and more like this: 

B: "The Baltics?"

M: "You know it." 

B: "Great. We have three days." 

M: "Cool. Let's go." 

In any event, we ended up sprinting across the Baltics. 

First Lithuania, then Latvia, and finally Estonia. 

Vilnius, Lithuania: 

[Oops. My thumb wanted to be in this picture, too.]

Riga, Latvia: 

[Loved, loved, loved these streets.]

[Old Town.]

[I really liked Riga. A lot, a lot.]

[So usually, dirty water just looks gross. But this looks like some version of the chocolate river in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. In other words, it looks magical and pretty.]

[Monument to Freedom and Fatherland. We tried to figure out what it said on the monument and were making guesses (because Latvian is a crazy-ridiculous language), but we were totally wrong. Google Translate taught us what it really said.]

["Don't jump. I love you."]

Tallinn, Estonia: 

[Entrance to Old Town.]

[The doors in Tallinn were really cool, too.]

[Case in point.]

[German architecture and Russian cathedrals.]

[What a view.]

[My aunt served a mission in the Baltics and she told me about the best blini restuarant there called Kompressors. And man alive, those blinis were goooood. However, I didn't realize how big they were going to be, so I got two of them--a sweet and a savoury. Oops. They were huge. Hurray for take-away.]

[Again, that view is just stunning.]

[Ominous much? Les Miserables much? Adele much? *Let me phooootograph you in this light . . .*]

The Baltics are fascinating. You can definitely tell that they are trying to wash clean of Soviet (and German) occupation. They feel more European than Ukraine or Russia (and Estonia feels like a Nordic cousin). Their languages are old. Very old. So are their city centres, which were all lovely. I'd like to go back and visit not just the capital cities, but the towns in the country and the coasts . . . the Baltics definitely have an important story to tell.