Muscovite

Tonight I will catch my last Russian train, to St Petersburg, my last Russian city. I have spent enough time on trains to not be too devastated by this prospect, but I am a little reluctant to admit the marker for the end of my trip. My schizophrenic self is also pretty excited to get back to the UK; to see you and have a pretty epic sleep because I am tired! So tired! The last few days have seen me play at being a Muscovite (this is make believe because I am currently not my most elegant self) and swanning around an unexpectedly contemporary, elegant and edgy city. I fear I am less discerning than I would have previously given myself credit for, for I find myself, yet again, professing my love for yet another city. My evident lack of taste aside, Moscow is wonderful and I really like it here. Prior to my arrival in the kooky, classy capital, I spent a somewhat less classy 3 days and nights on a train, from Siberia, from where I last wrote (or more accurately, from where I last speed typed my thoughts on the one spare hour I had - see how dedicated I am).

My Siberia experience was of both a city, 70km or a 3hr electric train ride from the lake; and a minimally populated, remotely located village on an island actually in the lake. The latter, while being one of the more basic of the places I have stayed, was one of the more unique and exciting, perhaps only topped by my night in the Vietnamese jungle. The 'guesthouse' was more of a complex of guesthouses than a single hotel, and had a number of smallish wooden cabins, banya houses (oh, the banya!) and restaurants (which were all shut because it was the winter and no one is stupid enough to go to Siberia in the winter). In each of the wooden cabins were about 2-3 bedrooms, a toilet (with a primitave flushing system) and a really, really cool fire/chimney/heater thing. The heating system had something to do with fire and bricks and trapping heat inside the thing that looked like a chimney but wasn't. I have no idea how it worked but it was very effective and kept me toasty warm all night. The interior of the cabins were entirely wood, as you might expect, and were super-quaint. The best way to explore the island (in the November temperatures - which I think hit -18, 20 degrees warmer, can you believe it than the mid-winter temperatures) is by Jeep, so that's what we did. Our driver took us the length of the 80km island, stopping at various points of interest or outstanding beauty. Our other drive the day before, in the minibus, also stopped a few times, but that was so we could push the van up the snow covered hill. I say 'we'. That's what the Canadian forest fire-fighters were there for. And to look pretty. No pushing was required on the jeep, for what I ignorantly describe as a 'jeep', was a Russian made something, which was about 3ft off the ground and had a fully servicable engine (I was told) between the driver and front passenger seat. It was a beast - and invincible! So many times we were bouncing around in the back of the truck as the driver either carefully manouvered though snowy forests (there was no road, he was driving up against tree trunks - and HOW this is even possible I don't know) or speeding down one hill to gain enough momentum to get us up and over the next hill. Even if we weren't on a beautiful island in the middle of snowy Siberia, the truck/jeep/thing adventure was fun enough!

When we reached the peak of the island, the road was impassable even by super-truck and so we hopped out and went for a short 90 minute hike around. Lake Baikal is one of the 8 energy points of the Earth according to Shaman teachings. I would do a bad job of explianing Shamanism, and a lot of my friends have degrees in theology, and so I shall not even try - but I will say that this island and the peak in particular, is a 'holy' place. As we were walking around, we kept coming across Buddhist and Shamanist shrines. The Buddhist shrines were piles of rocks, to which you are invited to add your own stone - I'm not going to pretend I know why. The Shamanist alters were all made of wood, often trunks or branches of trees to which you tied a ribbon or other fabric and gave gifts of small change (and I saw a few cigarettes - what self respecting god/spirit doesn't enjoy a ciggy now and then?). The millions of colours of the fabrics, aside from all having a separate meaning, make quite a spectacle to behold. They're beautiful, especially contrasted to the grey of the snowy sky. I also noticed a string of Tibetan prayer flags draped around and through the branches of a tree which was growing on one of the further edges of the peak. We walked back to the truck, in the footsteps of what I really, really, really hope was a wolf (!), there were at least pretty big paw prints in the snow, and back at the truck our driver had made a fire, fish soup and a pot of tea for us! We had a picnic in the snow, which was surprisingly cosy thanks to the tea and delicious soup.

I would have liked to have stayed longer on the island, but that train timetable isn't so flexible, which meant I caught the minibus back to Irkutsk the next day. There is a system with Russian trains, of which you should probably be aware should you ever decide to do the Trans-Siberian, that is; the lower the number, the better and newer the train. Generally speaking, I am told, they come in groups. i.e. 1-10 = good. 11-100 = not bad 101+ = for drunk Russian soldiers only. I personally cannot testify to the accuracy of this grouping because all of my trains, thus far, have been below 10. That wasn't an accident. My options for getting to Moscow were the train #389 which left on 18th and took 4 days, or the #1 which left on 17th and took 3 days. I didn't know about the #1 until I got to the station to buy the ticket, and having braced myself for the #389 I instantly agreed to this faster, newer, nicer train at a marginally higher cost. Had I not been quite so excited I might have paused to consider that actually this meant I had time to stop in another city on the way - but I didn't and so off to Moscow on the #1 I went!

This time I knew what to expect and came prepared; both in spirit and in food. My spirit was more prepared that it needed to be because this was a NICE train. It was brand new, spotless and not only were there two nice toilets, there was running water and warm running water! Trust me, this is the Trans-Siberian dream! Whilst I really did enjoy the dream-train, it did lack quite a bit of the character that endeared me to the other, less nice train, which was kitted out in lace and patterned fabrics on any and every surface that could be decorated. But I wasn't complaining. The food this time was also a great success, and the 3 full shopping bags that I brought with me (intending to share) turned out not to be 'perhaps a little much' because all I did for 3 days was sleep, read and eat. There was nothing left by the time we arrived in Moscow. In actual fact I even bought another chocolate bar from the provodnitsa. I should be more ashamed of this, and you're about to find out why.

Travelling from Irkutsk to Moscow also meant I travelling west, across 5 different timezones. My watch had been set to Moscow time a day prior to my journey, officially so I could "start adjusting", unoffically because everytime I checked the time I freaked out thinking I was going to be 5 hours late for my train. For the duration of the journey, I was living in a strange, very strange and confusing almost timeless world, where everyone else in the carriage slept at different times,I woke up in the dark and the sun set at noon. I found that I was tired a lot, would nap a lot, and when I wasn't napping I was eating because I was always hungry. Actually that might not be the train. On my last journey, which was 60 hours, I got through the Communist Manifesto (text and commentary), Crime and Punishment and some Cormac McCarthy book. You have a lot of time on your hands. This time around I made it 2/3rds of the way through both 1984 (enough with the communism now) and The Brothers Karamazov, both of which I had started and abandoned earlier this year. The train is a relaxing time and I was very happy to have my head in alternate books for this length of time, although I did start to go a little crazy by day three. There was one confusing point when, having just woken up, I just couldn't comprehend why the telescreen hadn't seen Dmitri Karamazov do the deed? But hey, when I read Harry Potter I actually had Quidditch dreams. I get quite involved with stuff.

My travel companions this time were only actually with me for the first day and left, never to be replaced at Novosibirsk. So not only was I on the nicest train that runs from Vladivostok to Moscow, I had my little compartment #6 all to myself and 3 bags of food. Boy, was I happy! We arrived into Moscow around 6.30 on the evening of the third day and by 7.30 I had checked into my hostel and booked tickets for the Bolshoi. Backpacking is never this easy!

Most people I have met along the way that have been here, have said they disliked Moscow. Most commonly I have heard the complaint that it is too busy, too expensive and the people are very rude. Now, I must just be as steely-hearted as the rest of them, but the rudeness doesn't bother me, and I actually quite like that this is a city in which you don't have to be happy all the time. It is cold here, and busy and crowd/queuing etiquette borders on neanderthal, so why would you be happy 24/7? This ain't Beijing. You don't dance in the parks come nightfall. The city and it's inhabitants are arrogant, self-important and preoccupied with elegance and glamour. It is a beautiful, complicated and interesting city and I really, really love it. This has been the easiest city I've been to, by far, the one that I've felt most at home in and the one that has interested me the most. It's a lot like Paris, both in architecture and attitude, but infinitely more interesting, more gritty and is still so evidently changing and opening up.

When I start my Training Contract, I get to go abroad for a 6 month secondment to another W&C office. Moscow is a very serious contender, and the longer I am here the further it is creeping up the preference list. I could easily live here, and actually want to, and so it will turn on whether I choose easy or scary, the latter of which would be Tokyo! The other advantage about coming here on secondment is that W&C would put me up in a nice apartment. I hope at least that this apartment would be nicer than a sleeper train, which currently my hostel is not. It's fine, but pretty grotty, cramped and the staff are a little bit ditzy. My bed also has the worstest, oldest, dampest and brokenest mattress ever - seriously, I slept much better on the train. We've also reached a new level of snoring appreciation - but seeing how his feet remain on his own bed, there had been no midnight violence. Ear-plugs are an absolute godsend. Crappy living quarters aside - and I think I would probably be traveling with more patience if I hadn't been slumming it for 4 months now - I've met some great people, and there's so much to do in the city that I've literally slept and showered here.

The first day of sightseeing took me to Lenin's mausoleum in Red Square and the Kremlin. I saw Red Square for the first time in the snow. All of my tourist snaps are consequently pretty grey or of snowflakes in front of and blurring iconic buildings. But it was nice so see such a recognisable place when it was snowing. Having almost completed my inadvertent communism tour and thus far passed up on two other mausoleums, I figured I should see at least one pickled communist leader, and Lenin really was the original and the best. Having now been to one and being totally creeped out by it, I am not at all disappointed that I passed up Mao and Ho Chi Minh. It was a very strange and still atmosphere, despite the through-flow of spectators. The glass coffin was internally lit and the corpse looked much like a wax model, but for the hair on his head and his mustache, which was realistic enough to turn the veritable wax-work into the corpse of Lenin. The concept behind preserving leaders I do not really comprehend - and I thought the snow covered memorials in the wall of the Kremlin were far more dignified than poor old Lenin. I made a terrible mistake in visiting the Kremlin on a weekend and had a rather overwhelming induction into the Russian attitude towards queuing, but it didn't detract too much from the experience and the Kremlin itself was very beautiful, interesting and a far more conventional tourist attraction.

The other notable Moscow activity has, of course, been my visit to the Bolshoi Theater, which in case you didn't know, is world famous, especially for the ballet. The ballet isn't on at the moment, so I bought a ticket for whatever was showing, which turned out to be an opera that is running this week only. Now, there's such a thing here as door control. Essentially if you don't look the part, you can be turned away. This meant I absolutely had to go shopping - there was no way in hell I was getting through in my walking boots and trekking pants. Oh I had such fun, & for so long in Moscow's nicest mall, which has more fairy lights than shops, and nice shops at that. After trying on half of a number of shops, admittedly only half looking for an opera outfit and half because I enjoyed wearing all the nice clothes, I found a lovely little blue dress, which was very opera-appropriate. Then the shoes. Well, it's pretty cold here and I was too scared to bear my legs in just a pair of tights (rather than the 2 layers they've become accustomed to), so I went looking for boots, and boots I did find! I accidentally bought two pairs, which I do not regret, but will be foregoing the expensive fur hat in consequence.

The opera itself was very curious and contemporary. It was a production in which the director was certainly trying to say something about how we now live, and I think the struggles of identity and internal conflicts - but the director was trying to say that thing in Russian, and thus, the complexity and nuance of the message was partly lost on me. That said, I've never seen anything produced in the same format or using the same techniques, the musical score was sensational and I enjoyed myself (and dressing up) very much! It was a very glamorous affair and I am glad I went shopping beforehand. Luckily I am young enough to apply a coat of mascara and a bit of concealer and look "fresh faced" which I pretended was a legitimate make up look for an evening. After 4 months of not wearing only suncream on my face I felt made up at least - it's amazing what a coat-too-many of mascara and some nice shoes can do! I was somewhat intimidated and in awe of all the fur and silk that surrounded me - Russian women really are the most elegant in the world!

There's so much more I could saw about Moscow and all I have done here. St Petersburg, I am told, is a far superior city and so my hopes are high. I am now in the last week of my time away, and I cannot believe how quickly I will be home. It is going to be quite a shock to the system - but a nice one. For now, however; One City; One Week; One Hell of a Finale!