Hey, I’m back from Magnitogorsk. I was just here, a mere 50 hours earlier, waiting for a stylish little Atlas suitcase that never came. I was just an innocent little Finn, curious about Russia, a wide-eyed kid, venturing out on a journalistic adventure in George Orwell’s footsteps. On a charter plane, of course.

And here I am now, tired and weary, with images of a memorial to a war that’s mostly a part of my grandparents’ past, and a city, going forward and backward at the same time flashing before my eyes, and memories of my journey from Europe to Asia, and back, still vivid on my mind. There I was, for what seemed like days, weeks, a lifetime, with one of Magnitogorsk’s most famous TV personalities as my travel companion. In a taxi cab, naturally.