Day 242 - Getting Into Town

Our Air Moldova flight from Frankfurt made one stop on the way to refuel, in Ivano Frankivsk, Ukraine. The airport in Ivano Frankivsk had been a forward fighter air base and the anti-aircraft guns could still be seen along the runways - the longest I had ever seen - covered in loosely woven camoflage. Air Moldova refueled in the Ukraine because the cost of fuel in Frankfurt was so much higher. The former air base status of the airport meant there were armed guards patroling around the aircraft at all times. Many of them were also smoking. We kept our eyes closed and fingers crossed while on the ground.

image of enamel tea kettle by iane machado,
via Flickr.com

The food service on the Air Moldova fight was basic. Tea was served from a white enamel tea kettle with a wooden handle, something that looked like it had last been used on a western movie set with the chuck wagon. At the end of the flight, the flight attendants handed us each a green banana. They seemed so pleased to be able to hand them out, but they wouldn't be edible for at least a few days, probably why they weren't served with the meal. Since I knew how rare bananas had been in Romania, I assumed these green bananas were highly valued by the Moldovan flight crew and I accepted mine gladly.

Our flight landed in the evening. It was late September. We were ushered into the reception area of the airport which had no lights, no heat, and no chairs. For the next 90 minutes, we stood, waiting for someone to take our passports and stamp them with permission to enter so we could pick up our suitcases and see who was on the other side from the embassy to pick us up. Those first ninety minutes in country gave Alex the vision for what he would contribute during our two years in Moldova. He decided he was going to make sure no one ever had to wait so long in the dark on arrival in Moldova. More about his adventures as he grew into his nickname of Mr. Chisinau Airport later.

In addition to passengers, that once a week flight from Frankfurt also delivered the embassy's mail. Instead of delivering us straight to our hotel, David, the general services officer of the embassy who picked us up at the airport, brought us, along with the diplomatic pouch bags, to the embassy. Nearly all the other Americans already in country were waiting at the embassy to see what mail might be for them. That quick stop provided us with plenty of clues about one of our colleagues, Becky. She had arrived on the same fight that Alex and I were originally scheduled for, two weeks earlier, so she had been there just 14 days. Among the items in that evening's pouch bags were three boxes for Becky. They were from her parents who numbered all the packages they sent to Becky. The three boxes that arrived that night were numbered 12, 13, and 15. Becky's comment as she picked up these boxes was "I wonder what happened to number 14?" My first thought was how could she already be short of so much in just two weeks that her parents had had to send her as many as 15 boxes in the first week she was away from Washington? There will be more about Becky to come.

Eventually, we were delivered to our first home in Moldova, a suite in the VIP area of the Codru Hotel. Our adventure had begun.