“Let’s just get the fuck out of this place.”

Day breaks over the Russian-Estonian frontier at about two o’clock in the morning. From here on the sleep is intermittent at best. Sharing a bed certainly did not help and neither did being in a sleeping bag liner (due to appropriate fear of bugs etc) in the radiator-less chill.

Eventually the 0830 alarm went off and we were up – we avoided showering, as we didn’t particularly wish to further endanger our health.

As instructed the night before by the border guards we “went to bank for 0900″ (unfortunately contradictory to what we were told, it didn’t open until 0930) and unintentionally had a rendezvous with the drunk Russian from last night, who was considerably more sober and fairly chatty. Once we finally reached the counter we pointed at/showed forms to the clerk and had our new friend (Dennis) speak very loudly and continue our gesticulation.  Between the three of us (and some help from the elderly locals) we eventually managed to get the visa elongation(?!) we needed. The actual piece of paper that caused us so much trouble was only the size of a receipt from a small shop.

Off we plodded down the road, holding our passports so tight that our fingers went white. Over the next hour we were fairly silent as Dennis did the loud and admittedly slightly confrontational talking. Keeping our mouths shut was seen as the best policy to get this palaver over as quickly as possible as the general Russian viif you can’t speak Russian then that’s tough and they probably don’t consider you worth talking to.

The tones of the voices conversing varied wildly as we received mixed messages from Dennis, who had assumed the role as local fixer and translator. It might be worth mentioning that the man we met last night who had claimed to be able to help us was nowhere to be found, but had apparently invited Dennis back to his house after we’d left, for a cup of tea and a hamburger…

At various points we thought we’d be able to leave and at others we thought that we might well be staying in the customs building for another four hours.

Eventually, though, they’d had enough of us and we were escorted to no man’s land – the bridge of the dividing river to Narva (which boasts some gorgeous scenery.  Probably because it’s outside Russia).

Again, we started to fear the worst as we approached the Estonian border and another set of officials, but after less than twenty seconds at the immigration desk we were waved through with a smile (something many Russians seem to lack) and we were in Estonia. Again.  The air smelt fresher and sweeter, filled with the aroma of the Schengen Agreement, the wafting scent of globalisation and of the subtle musk of the European Union.

From this point on things got comparatively simpler. We obtained some money (from an ATM, obviously) and after some long deliberations using a pen and paper with the booking office lady at Narva bus station, we discovered the fastest way to Riga was not direct but via our current-favourite stop, Tallinn, and then we’d have 15 minutes to make a change to another bus to Riga.

We received a mild form of compensation for the early morning’s events in the from of the bus to Riga from Tallinn being a ‘Lux Express’. However it wasn’t just this that made us smile, but also the 4 chairs and a table we had to ourselves at the back of the coach that helped lift our pretty dampened and weary spirits.   We spread out our Lion Bar, our M&Ms and our water from the kiosk, stretched back and watched the Estonian countryside give way to Latvia.  I couldn’t tell you when we crossed the Latvian border – it was just that easy.

Upon arrival in Riga we found Friendly Fun Frank’s Hotel and got a free beer – with that sort of compensation for our troubles, it seems like a pleasant place. Having said that, anything is better than our exit disaster from Russia.  The hostel here seems massive, with a fully-stocked bar downstairs broadcasting The Ashes on not one, not two, but FOUR TVs.

We’ve just had dinner in a Latvian style buffet in town and I’m now being forced to write this blog but I am well and truly exhausted and the man (who makes up one of four foreign roommates) below Nick is snoring very loudly so it may be a night to sleep with the iPod on.

Executive summary reads: We’re alive, we survived, and we’re never going back to Russia again. However, this probably isn’t an issue because we’re almost certainly blacklisted for another visa anyway.