After half a year in Asian countries I have to face it: no longer am I among the tallest, no longer will people look at to me and make way when I approach in my huge winter parka.

Welcome to Russia, welcome among men and women way beyond 180cm.

Coming from Japan, I politely waited at the luggage carousel to get my backpack from the “production line”. Back in Tokyo this would have worked just fine: the Japanese would have politely waited, nobody would have dared to stand in front of me and never ever would I have been pushed. However, having Russian soil under my feet I had to rethink – and quickly if I wanted to get a hold of my luggage! While I still was marvelling at my Russian immigration stamp (for once no questions had been asked and I even got a smile from the female custom officer), suddenly two men were standing right in front of me. Did they not see that I was waiting for my luggage?!

The probably did, but must have decided that their luggage was as if not more important than mine. I woke up and told myself: “Tobias – u are out of “lost in translation” and back in the jungle!”

When I caught a glimpse of my 23kg-backpack arriving, I therefore pushed my way through to the carousel and nobody seemed to be too shocked (Japanese people would have fainted) or even said a word. Alright then; when in Russia, do as the Russians do.

On the other hand my welcome to Russia was more than warm: Already in Niigata, Japan) in the boarding lounge, I met a Russian scientist and his wife who were back on their way home. When I asked whether there was a bus from the Vladivostok Airport to the city (I had heard that taxis were a bit pricey), they quickly invited me to join their ride! We talked a lot and I learnt that I was on my way to a very dangerous city if not country. In the plane I then met Dina, a rather nouveau-rich Russian who proudly showed me his Rado-watch (“it is original for sure!”) and who funny wise drives the exact same Land-Cruiser as I do. His forehead got into deep wrinkles when I told him about my project of crossing Russia and Mongolia in winter. He told me that Russia is by no means a safe place and certainly even less so in winter. Great. This later got repeated by my host Galina, a 74 year-old lady who looks rather like 50. She, too, mentioned that nobody right in his mind would dare to go out in the evening, and when I told here that in fact I was about to drive through Siberia in winter, she probably concluded that there indeed must be something wrong with my brain.

So here I am: I have not even got my car out of customs, and already I am shitting in my pants about the prospect of driving through this most-dangerous country. But then again – I have been afraid of driving through Colombia when nobody was warning me more of doing that than the Colombians. And there had not been the slightest incident or danger. Therefore I give it a “go” and pray to God to send me some guarding angels for the next 11’500km.

Tomorrow I will meet my agent Julia and then I will see whether I can get my car out of customs in the coming 10 days. Stay tuned. Tobias for Panmundo, Vladivostok, Russia.