Russia

 

 

Russia , how exotic.. The name alone stirs thoughts of revolution.

The home of Marx, Stalin and Lenin oh Lenin.

With Talin becoming blurry in the snow, our bus pounded toward St Petersburg, the countryside opened up before us, just white, as far as the eye can see. Villages, devoid of any life flew past like frozen moments and vanished as quickly as they appeared. It was so odd, no smoke coming out of the chimneys’, no cars, no one chopping wood, it was awfully quiet.  The harsh Russian winter has no mercy, no mercy.  We were still in Estonia, and it was so different to the old town we loved so much, the old town spoke of a time when human civilization was at a pinnacle. The streets of Talin have been sandblasted and all the houses have got the well deserved lick of paint and now we have a funky little village. It’s a different cup of tea few miles out of the city, in the badlands, the people sit quietly and wait.

More and more apartment blocks came rushing at us, monolithic structures, like dinosaurs frozen in time, still and colourless. It was evident how the majority of the people lived, Estonia still needs allot of time to shake off the Russian cloud of fear. At times I was gobsmacked, the sheer monstrosity of these buildings, a clear insight into how most of Russia was to look like, graffiti like “Fuck off Russia!” and other menacing threats adorned many of the available walls.

I was in Standard 10, at a government school on the outskirts of Johannesburg, my history teacher, a sexy Portuguese lady stimulated my interest in Russia. I learnt about the incredibly complex history of a mammoth country, a country that is vastly uninhabitable, yet has been a place of incredible bloodshed and oppression.  Before I left London, books on Russian and Eastern history were devoured, I would get lost in incredible dream worlds, reading about the East. I had not been to any other Ex Russian states, but I could already see the effects. At the Russian border, my caterpillars had hatched into butterflies, I could not believe I was about to enter Russia.

It was not long before the still, frozen wooden houses with no smoke coming out of their chimneys turned into entire herds of apartment blocks, the spawn on Stalin’s seven sisters…

It was early in the morning, any bird that could survive the smog was already up,  and all around us was a sea of Lada’s. We just stared and tried to make sense of the situation we had put ourselves in, and how we were to get out of it. From the moment my foot stepped on that pavement, I felt like an ant, instantly caught up in the panic. We just followed the crowds of people,  we knew they were headed to the underground… They were all so determined and it felt really weird not knowing what the hell is going on, and where you are and where you have to go. It was as if they were following a tune or a smell, they all filtered effortlessly into the darkness.

The Cyrillic alphabet is not so difficult to learn, but a few English signs would have really helped, as we followed the crowds in an out of trains and platforms, it seemed would be ok.  The waves of sullen, expressionless drones filed into the darkness as we raced for the light at the end of the escalator. It seemed that smiling carried a penalty; the underground metro police would spring out and take you deeper into the darkness, deeper than anyone who has never smiled never wants to go. I understood why they were like this, how many of us are actually happy to go to work, but even more sadly how many of us are happy to come home.  I realised right there and then that I had a lot to smile for,  I was on the other side of the fence, I was taking the photographs and not posing for them for a dime.

Like two farts in the wind Sue and I wondered the streets of the outskirts of St Petersburg, we were so hot from carrying our packs that we welcomed the below zero temperatures. For some bizarre reason the Russians have made finding street names like solving the enigma code, all we wanted was to get to a bed and take a moment to register the events of the day. We were extremely surprised to find that some of the people we asked for help were indeed very helpful, some of them went to great lengths, like calling their cousins who had once lived nearby.. But as usual after much spitting and wasted saliva the information turned out to be bullshit… typical.

As in most situations, somehow we just follow our noses and eventually we normally find what we are looking for. We were absolutely overjoyed to see the neon sign “ All seasons Hostel”, glowing faintly in the smoggy haze.  The harsh winter robs the Russians of even the odd tourist, instead it brings truck drivers and their sort, people that cannot afford heating  and all their families… I don’t mind this set up, though it makes you always worry about leaving your gear behind…

No amount of snoring and smelly feet would stop me from sleeping, it was so good to get the load off, and we slept like pigs in mud…. The next morning showed no improvement on the weather and more importantly to the people, it was still cold and the people still did not smile. Do you remember having to write to those lengthy exams in school, that feeling of been trapped and having to finish or fail, well that’s what it feels like to check into a hostel in Russia, the amount of paperwork involved was comical. We had already experienced the Russian Beurocracy  in London, at the Russian embassy in the leafy suburb of Kensington, and were now about to experience the same bullshit in the country itself. Russia is still pretty selective as to whom it gives visas to, and once you have the visa they can so quickly take it away. Every tourist who has a visa in their passport has to register the visa upon arrival in the country, if you only stay the night then it’s not necessary, but for everyone else, get your pens out and start filling in the forms. After all the paper work the receptionist then takes our passports away and with only a receipt and her word we are ordered to  leave if we have no more questions. Unperturbed by all the gruff attitudes and lack of smiles we were determined to make the most of Russia..

As we surfaced, we were struck by the scale of St Petersburg, thousands of people packed the streets, all bundled up with their noses stuck to the boutique shop windows . The buildings oozed  history and character, it was simply an incredible architecture, considering that most of St Petersburg was built on a swamp. The city has a Venice feel to it, the meandering canals wind around the city, all that was missing were the golers. The streets  were lined with the most expensive shops I have ever seen, it seemed that after all the years of Isolation, Russia was in the grip of brand fever, and most of these shops were way beyond our league and of course out of the league of about 90% of Russians. Personally I am sickened by this, as usual it’s the masses that have to suffer so the rich can play.. Most of the people that brushed past us, going about their daily routine, are still fighting for one decent meal a day.. The city is a cultural hotspot, theatres, museums and many art galleries are sprawled all over, ticket booths line many street corners, the variety is unbelievable. More numerous than the ticket booths are statues, it seems that at one stage Russia was swept away by statue madness. Some are really impressive but most are drab reminders of Russia’s turbulent past.

Despite the below zero conditions, it was great to wonder aimlessly through the streets of St Petersburg,  you had to keep moving or you would turn into an ice block. During our stay in St Petersburg I could not stop thinking of all those homeless people, how they manage to survive the winter, I was sure that many died, I was sure that all those rich people  going in and out of the designer shops would not help, it made me sad, it made me angry.

One of the highlights of St Petersburg was watching  an authentic Russian ballet, it was a small theatre and a small production, none the less I was spellbound. The nimble dancers, the live orchestra and the old theatre were the perfect ingredients for an unforgettable show… It was the first ballet I had ever seen, though I did not understand much of what was going on, I was in trance and the memory will stay spring fresh in my mind.  As we made our way out of the theatre, dodging the refined ladies and gentleman, I had to linger at the photo display of past stars, their portraits staring, their eyes telling silent stories… The drone of the city quickly pulled me back to reality, the icy fingers of the winter night molested our bodies, and we longed for the underground and the warmth created by all those bundled bodies..

As usual, we were really motivated to keep all our travel overland, I don’t know why we do it, I don’t know why we enjoy cramped buses and stinky trains, but we do.

Our aim was to take the trans- Siberian railway all the way to Beijing, we did not want to be on the train non – stop all the way as most people want, we wanted to stop get out and smell the roses.

With St Petersburg disappearing fast into the snowy haze, we sat in Platskartny ( 3^rd class), watching the monolithic buildings melt before our eyes,  waiting for the ghost towns and villages to magically appear, the snow dominated everything, for the first time in my life I was filled with awe and respect for snow.  Our train glided effortlessly, the iron beast was motivated  and was one of the few things that could effectively survive such harsh conditions. The Russians take enormous pride in their rail system, and so they should, they have achieved a massive feat in linking most of the country by rail.

 There are various levels of comfort to choose from when using trains in Russia. Most of the population uses third class, otherwise                  

 known as Platskartny, the rest of the designer crowd fills the rest of the train, and most tourists doing the Trans Siberian route normally opt for the luxury option, fair game as they have to sit on the train for 6 days non stop…

Not us, we love getting close to the locals, in the beginning it’s a bit strange, everybody is looking at you like you are in the wrong place, most are surprised to see us setting up camp. Platskartny is simply brilliant, such a good way to get close to the locals, even though we can’t understand them or they us both parties end up having a laugh. It’s quite difficult to get these tickets, obviously, we would later on have a real battle to arrange our onward tickets, a battle to stay close to the masses.

I was extremely excited by the thought of Moscow, I was in total disbelieve that I was mere hours away, so with that thought in mind and all the thousand stares we settled down to our first train ride…

Despite some unruly Russian men waking me up in the early hours of the morning for a sip of Vodka the journey was effortless and very comfortable.  Arriving in Moscow is like paddling into a massive wave, as soon as you take off there is no stopping the great wall of water finding its final destination.

Naturally our first challenge was to once again navigate the brutal underground transport system, St Petersburg and London undergrounds seemed like child’s play compared to Moscow, it was so immense and so packed it was enough to wear even the most seasoned traveller down. We stood in corner, like naughty children sent to sin corner, trying to make sense of the chaos that surrounded us.  Any normal Joe can navigate the Russian underground, it’s so effective that there is a train every 10 minutes  it’s just the sheer chaos that catches you unaware and makes you do silly things. Our destination was a hostel called “ Sweet Moscow”, initially we wondered around for sometime before we actually found the place, an apartment house on the 8^th floor of a large building. The apartment was scarcely furnished with a dorm room and 2 double rooms, one belonging to the legendary Tanya. Tanya resembled a bumble bee, a really sleepy bumble bee, immediately we felt relaxed and at home. Tanya made us feel really welcome, Sue was not feeling very well and our bumble bee was quick to the task of making sure Sue was sorted. Tea with famous Kazak honey, a good shower and sleep was what the bee prescribed.  Sue had a high temperature and all she really needed was a good solid unbroken sleep.  Our first couple of days in Moscow, were very subdued, and instead of rushing to the Kremlin and the Red Square, we were in no mood for the masses, instead we got a good orientation of Moscow’s outskirts, Sweet Moscow, was indeed sweet and we had loads of fun with Tanya, who turned out to be a total socialite, who we would often find in the kitchen still talking and drinking at 8 in the morning. At one stage the apartment was full, and I could not resist the invitation from two Brazilian Blokes to take a night walk to Red Square..

Night walking is probably one of the most underrated extreme activities in the world… I love that tension that night brings, that unearthly silence… It was a fair walk to the Square and already from the distance I could  see it… I could not understand why I was so excited to see this place, I don’t think there is one positive thing that emerged from this place. The streets were still busy and the as we grew closer the crowds grew louder, the lights were overwhelming and I felt like an insect going to his inevitable end. I have never in my life seen so many red bricks, but I am sure many more people died than bricks were laid…

As if in trance I walked around, savouring every sound, smell and sight, again I was drawn to the bright lights of the GUM, or the state department store… It was lit up like a giant  Christmas tree, and all the insects flocked toward the warmth.  The beautiful St Basil Church, once such a powerful place now it has to compete with MacDonald’s and Dolce and Cabana,  the nightly reflections on the coloured domes were enchanting and sitting back and watching local Russians posing for the family albums  was very entertaining and educational. 

With the dreams of the previous night still so fresh in my mind, I woke up early and was really keen to see this place in day light, I was also really excited to see Lenin’s body… he

By the time we arrived there was already a throng of people queuing patiently, all the while policeman with their hats pulled over their eyes looked on. It was early and the people we still sleepy, there was a subdued atmosphere in the air. The closer you got to the entrance the atmosphere started changing drastically, their now seemed such an urgency, and the police grew more and more fearsome, barking orders to anyone who stepped out of line, “ Take your hands out of your pocket !” yelled one, “ No stop!” barked another.  In a quiet shuffle we all had the honour of shuffling past the severed head of Lenin…

Poor Lenin. Ironic that such a powerful man, could not get his last wishes to be buried in the small graveyard of his hometown,  instead he is paraded like a circus freak around the world. I am sure that Lenin is turning in his grave, I am sure that if he is watching he would be so glad he was dead.

In total we spent an entire week in Moscow, riding the underground, hoping off at all the stations, going to Markets outside the city, having Sweet Moscow there also made our stay much more pleasurable. Russians are not the friendliest bunch, they hard workers and hard drinkers, this combination makes them thoroughly unpleasant company. When we tried to organise our onward train journeys, we would be climbing the walls by the end of the day, all we got was impatience and negative vibes, in short they could not be assed to help two travellers looking for the cheapest deal possible, we spent an entire day looking for someone that could help us and all we got was “Mnet!”, and two crossed fists. Eventually we found Melak, a Russian bloke who worked for another hostel called Godzilla’s. It was so refreshing to hear phrases like, hey don’t worry we will make a plan..

Melak, with all the patience in the world took only 2 hours to arrange all our rail journey for us, I would have given up much earlier, it was the best 30 dollars I have ever spent, he even arranged our Visas to be registered.. Respect! There was indeed still hope for the Russians, though we had seen thousands of sour faces we had also met  two smiling people…

We were happy to be carrying our bags, and heading toward the train station,  I thought of the Bumble bee and wondered if I was ever going to see her again…

Giant hunks of metal stood at attention, waiting patiently to get their final orders, the train station was buzzing with activity, typical we would choose to travel during a peak holiday season.

Again we made our way passed the sea of blank stares and staked our territory.. Having secured our bags and we settled down and quietly watched as the hunks of metal sprung to life and left. I  love travelling by train, I love the fact that I know I can’t do much and the best thing I can do is relax. I also love the fact that it gives you the time to put things in perspective, to sort through your overloaded brain and make sense of what you have seen and experienced.  All we hoped was that we would not have to drink any Vodka in the early hours of the day.. I don’t mind a couple in the evening but I don’t fancy brushing my teeth with it..

There was no stopping our thundering train, there was no changing direction and anything that stood in front of it would meet a painful and grisly death. We headed toward the Mongolian Border, as we could not get the ideal trains we had hoped for and had to make a couple of extra stops along the way..  Some of the places were absolutely miserable, places like Yekaterinburg, a concrete jungle of note, Stalin’s seems the one to blame for these depressing towns and cities. However there were also one or two really memorable places where we actually encountered the rare smiling Russian and a way of life that showed us that the Russians were not all vodka drinking ogres. Places like Omsk and Tobolsk, are reminders that a sense of community and family are far better goals to have to have them money and status. In Tobolsk, we were enchanted by the quaint wooden houses and elaborately decorated churches, but as we walked we could not see a soul in sight, the place seemed desert, as if it was evacuated or something, occasionally a Lada would rattle past you and remind you that there was indeed life. In the end we followed our noses and found the main chilling spot of the village, a nice warm indoor market with everything you could wish for.

Not even the harsh winter gripped wilderness could stop our train, pine trees whizzed past at a dizzy rate and  our compartment smelt of toe jam, watching the snow falling I was totally entranced by the sheer brutality of the wilderness that surrounded us.

We had been on the move for over 28 hours and were really happy to know that Lake Baikal was drawing closer. Lake Baikal is the world’s deepest lakes and in the winter the whole lake freezes over allowing even oil tankers to cross. From the moment I set eyes on this spectacle of nature I was instantly entranced, even though my eyes begged to close or shy away from the glare caused by the vast sheet of ice, yet I could not close them. I was absolutely blown away, my first walk on the ice was adrenalin pumping stuff, and I was genuinly worried it would not hold my weight, the occasional crack would bring us both to a standstill, waiting for the inevitable crack and in we go..

We spent a couple of days in the small lakeside town of Litsvianka, one of the few places still accessible by road during the winter, the winter also reduces the city to a murmur and there was plenty of cheap accommodation  and the best smoked fish I had ever eaten in my life.

All in all I guess I can say that it was interesting to have been in Russia, with the surface barely scratched it was impossible  judge or make any lasting conclusions. We know that if there was a next time we would not have come in the winter and definitely spent the extra money for flights to get to certain places like lake Baikal, we still speak of taking one of the river up to the arctic circle, or riding horses from Baikal into Mongolia, we would have definitely done it differently had we suffient funds and time.  The people of Russia really need to lighten up, and although I know life is tough for them and I am was so awakened to the incredible class divide in the country. For the life of me I could not understand how people can be proud of places like Red square or pose for photos under statues of Stalin, it was so backward and it really felt like you were in a time warp. Russia’s  story is written in blood and the people are still paying from the mistake of their ancestors.