The bus ride lasted a whole 17 hours... That would have been fine, but my seatmate was a large Black woman whose bottom just wouldn't fit in one seat. Plus, she clearly suffered from incontinence, as she ran to the restroom every half hour!
But then, palm trees started appearing outside the window, and it got noticeably warmer. Florida, the sunniest state in America. I guessed that the bus wouldn't stop in the city center, and probably in some Chinese neighborhood. Oh... How much I didn't know...
I got off the bus, looked at the street, and... holy crap! I'm in a Black neighborhood... And clearly somewhere on the outskirts...
In principle, the decision I made turned out to be the right one – not to think. It's easier that way. I went into the first grocery store, bought 3 huge, strange bananas for a dollar and some delicious coconut juice. Mmm... I understand why there are more overweight people in America than in Russia. Food in the USA is a separate topic. It's simply amazing. The cookies just melt in your mouth, the Snickers are like the ones we had in the 90s, even better, the chips—these aren't those nasty Lays, these are divine chips...
But back to reality. And it wasn't the best. I sat on a bench, ate the bananas, drank the juice. And the question arose again: What now? This time it wasn't cool. I'm alone, surrounded by Black people, and not all of them have friendly faces. Where to go? How to find this damn hostel, for which I only know the address? Why is there no subway here? Never mind that, why aren't there EVEN buses here? Plus this heavy bag, which has bruised my shoulder to the point of bleeding in 2 days.
In the end, my main goal was to get out of this neighborhood before nightfall. When I asked passersby HOW to get to the hostel at this address, they either threw up their hands or said "go straight, far far away." Fortunately, after 2 hours of following the advice to "go straight, far far away," I met an American chewing a cheeseburger who helped me a lot (the American, not the cheeseburger). First, he called his son, who turned out to be a former cop. The latter found out where this hostel was. The answer was disappointing: it's about a 14-hour walk in the heat with a heavy bag. There really are kind people out there. In the end, we walked with this American to his house, he showed me his apartment, gave me water, and drove me to the hostel. He spent about 5 hours of his time on all of this. It was funny, sitting in the back seat of the car, listening to them talk about my situation: "Oh, man, you are crazy!"
Arriving at the hostel around 9 PM, I waited another hour for the owner and rented a room for 3 days, where 7 other people live.
I slept through the entire next night and half the day. In the evening, I met some girls who spoke Russian, but weren't from Russia. I was so happy to hear Russian speech...
It's 23:36 in Orlando now. 7:36 in Vologda.
Tomorrow will be a new day=)
