It was a good thing that the Novotel Sheremetyevo Airport Hotel was a very nice establishment, close to the airport and with super friendly and helpful staff. After our ordeal with our two hour wait for our luggage at Sheremetyevo Airport and very little sleep from the night before, we were quite spun out by the time we checked in. And we certainly needed some clear advice about our 8:00 am departure to Makhachkala the following morning. From past experience, we were well aware that Sheremetyevo is not an easy airport to navigate. 

The genial reception guy could not have been more helpful although like our friend on the shuttle bus, he looked somewhat surprised that anyone let alone two ageing foreigners, would want to travel to Makhachkala. Speaking perfect English, he explained (several times I recall as we were so spaced out) that our flight departed from the lesser used Terminal B. Yes, it took quite a lot longer to travel there than to other terminals and we should catch an earlier shuttle bus from the hotel. "The 6:00 am bus should get you there in time, although traffic can be very heavy" he warned. Thankful for his advice, we groaned inwardly however about another mega early start.... 

A cold beer and an early night was much needed. But with all our delays it was well after midnight before we finally flopped into bed. And then, we woke up on the hour every hour until our alarm went off at 4:00 am. As you do before an early start - and the only flight to Makhachkala.... 

We would definitely recommend the Novotel Sheremetyevo Hotel. It was reasonably priced (around AUD 125.00 per night), convenient, friendly and very comfortable.

We arrived in the hotel lobby earlier than we had expected and decided to catch the 5:30 am shuttle bus which had not yet left. We were lucky as there were just two seats available, the rest being taken by a group of very friendly Aeroflot staff. We were fortunate too as even at that time of the morning the traffic was unbelievably heavy, grinding to a complete stop on many occasions. And yes, Terminal B was a relatively long way from our hotel.

Russian airports are most often downright intimidating. And even with all our experience in travelling on our own in Russia, our check-in procedure at Sheremetyevo's Terminal B was a daunting task. Fortunately, the airport signage was in English but when we arrived at the check-in counter, it bore a large "Automated Check-In" sign, whatever that meant. We had no idea what to do. Certainly, the counter destination said Makhachkala, but there was no check-in staff at all. Surely we didn't have to leave our bags there we wondered? What was worse was there were no other passengers around to assist either, although we were acutely conscious that with my limited Russian language, it wouldn't have helped anyway. And understandably those who were around kept well away, most probably sensing we were hopelessly confused foreigners who couldn't speak Russian.

Desperate, Alan made his way to the front of another Aeroflot queue to see if he could find some information. The check-in woman thankfully spoke excellent English and on seeing our tickets kindly summoned us to her desk. "Just one minute and I will check you in" she offered.  

Unbeknown to us, our Automated Check-In Desk had been closed and this was apparently a general Aeroflot desk to accommodate a number of different flights that morning. Acutely embarrassed that we had in fact "jumped the queue", we thanked her profusely and hoped she would explain to the people behind us. The passengers however did not look at all concerned and kept chatting between themselves. It was I surmised, all part of my theory of the Patience of the Resilient Russian People who had probably been indelibly imprinted by a history of much worse experiences than coping with foreign queue jumpers. All the same, we did feel badly about it.

Once checked in, we could relax. We had a bit of time before our flight, and I was hanging out for a coffee. Alan who doesn't share my morning coffee addiction was not so keen. "But we will have to order, and we can't speak Russian" he lamented. 

It was of course time to use my hard-earned Russian phrase skills. I left Alan at the departure gate while I sussed out the lesser used cafes. After all, I didn't want to embarrass myself in front of more than one person at a time. The young woman serving seemed to understand me perfectly although I guess working out that someone wants two cups of coffee is not all that difficult.... And in no time I was marching, two cardboard mugs of take-away coffee in hand, triumphantly down to the Makhachkala departure gate. 

My elation did not last long. Alan had no sooner taken his mug when he dropped it, spilling most of it down his trousers. Yes, of course it was my fault.... Thankfully trekking trousers are forgiving souls and Alan managed to sponge most of it off.

While waiting for our flight we had a bit of time to survey our surrounds. The departure lounge was jam packed with people; many of whom were younger women with an extraordinary amount of young children.  I looked carefully at our fellow passengers. Some women were veiled but mostly they and their husbands were dressed in everyday modern jeans and t-shirts. And they were all very friendly. I thought quietly that they certainly didn't look like terrorists or even slightly bad people. They all looked very normal. Somewhat surprised by my shameful North Caucasus preconceptions, especially for someone who has travelled for the last fifteen years or so in mostly Muslin nations, I began to wonder what all this hype was about a dangerous Dagestan....

And there were more surprises. Just in front of us was a bar selling draft beer called "The Irish Pub". You can't have an Irish Pub in a Moscow airport surely? To the right was an Italian cafe "La Corte Milano". Life is just full of surprises when you travel....

A Three-Hour Flight From Moscow to Dagestan

Our three-hour Aeroflot flight to Makhachkala was comfortable and uneventful. We are not fussy about aircraft food but sadly the stale ham and cheese rolls we were given for breakfast were almost inedible. To our amazement, the two guys in the seats in front of us displayed astonishing stamina by asking for a couple more. You sure needed a lot of coffee to choke down even half a roll....

Yes, we were back in Russia and regrettably home to what we consider some of the world's driest bread. We laughed, remembering our 2018 travels in Chukotka when we had so often joked about Russian bread. Our guide Alex, who was emphatic that Russian bread was the best in the world, was absolutely horrified when we told him the only way to eat it was toasted.... Little did we know that we were in for some welcome surprises with some of the truly delicious breads of the Caucasus.

Our flight again took us over the surrounds of Moscow city, its distant towering high rise and lovely surrounding verdant forests and fields. Here is a video of our take off at https://youtu.be/c7ezqbcrqr8 (which shows you just how far Terminal B is down one end of the Sheremetyevo Airport) and also one taken during the early stages of our flight at https://youtu.be/R_kSS0QS1XM 

Makhachkala, capital of the Republic of Dagestan is located right on the coast of the Caspian Sea. The very name of the exotic yet unpronounceable Makhachkala (Ma-khach-kala) is exotic enough to send shivers down my spine, but it was nothing in comparison with our first glimpses of Dagestan's ethereal capital city.

I didn't really know what to expect. And given the shocking press given to the North Caucasus, it was no real surprise that it did indeed look totally surreal and yes, somewhat spooky as we descended into the strange lands surrounding Makhachkala.

And I can tell you it is a bizarre and chilling sensation to be flying into a region which is clearly stamped as "DO NOT TRAVEL" by your own home government. You sure knew you would get no help at all if you were in any trouble during your stay. And rightly so.... There was of course, no point in mentioning my fears to Alan. After all, his response would be "A bit late now...".

Our flight path took us over the eerie, milky waterways of the Caspian Sea; a series of murky deltas, marshy foreshores and huge lakes. This was not permafrost country. Why such a marshy landscape, we wondered?

The low rise, compact city of Makhachkala clung tenaciously to the very coastline of the Caspian, its housing density dropping off dramatically as we travelled slightly inland to Mezhdunarodnny Airport. Isolated small cottages surrounded by large plots of bare land dominated an otherwise featureless environment. There was no agriculture we could decipher from an aerial view. Not even much vegetation. 

Descending into Makhachkala was indeed a very freaky welcome. Totally I thought, in keeping with its secretive and dark reputation. My imagination was running wild. Here is a video of our descent https://youtu.be/A5C44Oe7nwk

It was even more weird when the entire plane began clapping as our plane came to a dusty halt. It reminded me of landing at Lod Airport in Tel Aviv so many years ago. And that was scary. 

For better or worse, after travelling some 24,000 kilometers over five days - or more than halfway around the circumference of the earth - we had landed in Dagestan. And golly, it really did exist....

Mezhdunarodnny Airport was also quite bizarre. A long hazy runway in the middle of seemingly nowhere; like so many Russian airports in Chukotka, its strong military presense giving it an ominous "don't mess with me" atmosphere. But unlike the Closed Zones of Chukotka we were familiar with, there were no confrontations by Border Guards, no confiscations of our passports nor any intense police interrogations. We collected our luggage with no problems and walked out into the car park. It was all surprisingly easy.

And in front of us was our guide Abdullah. A tall, handsome friendly young man wearing a casual grey pull-on hat, he looked quite like any Australian; certainly not my pre-conception of a fearsome wild eyed Chechen.... "Oh, sorry about my car" he said casually. "I have just finished a tour and I haven't had time to wash it. I hate having a dirty car..." he apologised.

The conversation was not going to any foreseen wild script. Dumbfounded by the complexity of expectations and reality, I followed Abdullah and Alan on a very normal day, across a very normal airport car park to a very normal car.....