Entry 1: Russ-ward Bound

I suppose I should be grateful that the process of actually getting to Russia met with few complications, though, unfortunately, it doesn't make for particularly interesting blogging. I boarded my Air France flight in Dulles and had no trouble getting to Paris from there -- I essentially just stayed put while the plane did most of the work (though my turning off all portable electronic devices and keeping my tray-table in the upright position most assuredly helped). Despite a disappointingly lackluster chicken curry (my complaints to the SkyChef!) and my complete inability to sleep, I found the flight to be a most productive, if not enjoyable, one, managing to catch an amazing aerial view of Nantucket, finally watching "Burn After Reading" (Brad Pitt gets killed in Georgetown... represent!), and somehow managing to avoid having to use the bathroom the whole time (due to an effective combination of 20% self-control and 80% sheer dehydration).
At long last, we make it to France (main exports: ennui, sangfroid, and mкnages-a-troi), and I'm relieved to discover that my one-hour layover should be no problem at all, since my flight is scheduled to depart from gate E2, and our plane is arriving at -- guess what -- E2! "Yes," I think to myself, "I'll just be able to step off the plane and wait in the same place until my connecting flight comes!" Fat chance. Instead of pulling up to the gate, our plane drops us off somewhere on the tarmac, where we catch a shuttle that zigs and zags leisurely about the aerodrome for around 15 minutes, passing a gate clearly marked "E2" twice, as though magnanimously condescending to bestow upon us the privilege of having the honor to take a free tour of the world-renowned Charles DeGaulle Airport (people mistakenly believe the Great Wall of China to be the only man-made object visible from space... in point of fact, the only such objects are: the pyramids at Giza, the Hoover Dam, and the airport's memorial to Charles DeGaulle's nose). Finally, we make it to the gate, which I find to be suspiciously far from where my connecting flight departs. "No matter," I think, "If security is anything like at Dulles, I've got plenty of time." While my logic was certainly correct, the fact that the first condition did not obtain meant that there was no guarantee that the second would (wouldn't Matthew be proud, Maddie?) . So, instead, I spent half-an-hour waiting around in a relatively short line while it took each person approximately five minutes to get through security. By the end of it, I was positively livid (a fact I made clear in the choicest words to a couple of perplexed Spanish-speaking gentlemen in front of me), particularly as I had no watch, couldn't see any clocks, and thus had absolutely no idea of knowing whether I would make my flight or not. Nevertheless, I managed to get through security and get to my gate with mere minutes to spare.
My flight from Paris to Moscow went fairly smoothly; I kept dozing off from exhaustion and was sentient enough only to catch the Russian woman in front of me arguing with her World's-Strongest-Man boyfriend about Yuri Gagarin and sex ("he can penetrate my inner space any day!' she would have said, were her speech in English and somehow under my control) and scarf down my lunch (breakfast? dinner? lunchfast?) of ham-filled bread, cottage cheese, and seasoned pickles... apparently, they were scheduled to test out new barf bags that day. Finally, we made it to Moscow, where I made my way through customs and baggage-claim and unexpectedly found my group waiting for me in the terminal. We spent the remainder of the day collecting the rest of the group, stockpiling provisions, and just generally using all our baggage to hassle Muscovites on the subway at rush hour (who were, fortunately, too unsociable even to express their irritation). After trying, with limited success, to solicit a photograph of the group in front of our train, we finally boarded for what was to be the greatest adventure of our collective life (though not our individual ones) -- the Trans-Siberian Railroad!