Reality check: why Murphy is always right.

(I wrote this in the 38 hours of train from Kazan to Novosibirsk).

So, to keep your mind busy while waiting for the posts about the "real" trip, here's the little story about How I Arrived in Russia Without My Bag.

My flight plan was to go from Rome to Moscow with a one-night stopover in Riga (more on that later, whenever I have the time), with AirBaltic: one of those “higher-quality” low-cost airlines, which prides itself on the quality of its services (it even won some sort of award).

When I arrive in Sheremetyevo though, I discover with much joy that my backpack is not there. The airport staff in charge of lost luggage makes me fill several forms, including the list of items contained in the bag; the forms have to be translated in Russian (in two copies), shown to the customs officer (who for some reason decides to rewrite the forms completely), signed by me (although for all I understood I might have signed a confession for the murder of Trotsky) and left there, in exchange for a small receipt with a code identifying my lost bag and a phone number.

And now what? I say. How do I get fresh clothes? Don't you give out some money, a voucher, an emergency kit with a soap, a toothbrush and an oversized t-shirt? Not our problem, says the airport staff. You have to ask the airline.

So that's what I do. I go to AirBaltic (or rather to some company called “DAVS”, which represents AirBaltic plus several other airlines in Moscow), and explain the situation to them. They're sorry, but there's nothing they can do. Their office in Riga doesn't know anything, and they are not allowed to give money or anything. So what I should do is buy whatever I need, keep the receipts and then write to AirBaltic, who maybe will refund my expenses.

As you can imagine, I wasn't angry, not at all.

But anyway, I go to the city and buy a couple of t-shirts, socks and underwear hoping that the bag will arrive in the next couple of days. Not that I have much choice.

(Commercial break – that's when you can go get some more popcorn. I'm going to get a tea from the train's samovar.)

Fast-forward two days later. After several phone calls and inquiries on different sides, I discover that the bag had never left Rome. It was now supposed to come on a plane landing at 5AM in Moscow. Nobody (obviously) knows anything when I call at 9AM, so I decide to add some pressure and go to the airport. I spend half a day there, and no bag. Somehow the handling agent in Rome (Aviapartner, I have to name names here), who had misplaced the bag in the first place, has written an inexistent flight number on the tag, so the bag is lost – again. And nobody knew where it is. I don't think there's many people who got their bag lost twice in a single flight, but there you go.

In anger and frustration, I go to AirBaltic (i.e. DAVS) again, and I scream so hard that one of the employees calls the police on me (no really, she does). Another interesting Russian experience, just on my third day there. Then the supervisor, a nice and calm man, smooths the issue out, offers me some tea (which is considerably nicer than having the police called on you) and explains he takes personal responsibility (unlike anyone else) and he will do his best to find the bag. Then he gives me his phone number so I can actually call him, and not wait for a call which would never come. (Not that he actually ever called me, or found the bag - but at least that was a nice thing to do).

So all's good and well, but he still hasn't found the bag and given me any money to buy new stuff. I decide that if the next morning there's no trace of the bag, I'll buy new stuff, bill it all to AirBaltic when I come back (writing a letter with the help of some lawyer), tell them to send the bag home and start on the journey. It's not like I want to hang around in Moscow indefinitely waiting for a bag which might not come.

And that's what happens, with an interesting twist: apparently, on the next day, when I make my final call to the airport before going to buy new stuff, and tell them not to bother anymore and send the bag back home, the luggage is actually in Moscow. But nobody knows, and nobody tells me - until the next day, which is too late.

The bag is now safely home, thanks for asking. It said it had an interesting trip. Next time I'll put a GPS tracker inside.

Ah, by the way... lawyers needed!