Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Monday, October 30, 2006
Headed West and Home
Estonia was our taste of Former Russia; the yin to balance the yan of our Russia experience. Tallinn itself is a tiny town - very beautiful in that medieval winding streets kind of way. It's main significance is that the front between Nazi Germany and Soviet Russia oscillated across the Baltic states for half a decade, following which the Soviets left a 52 year stamp. The Museum of Occupation in Tallinn was a whole-day history lesson. Having just travelled through Russia and enjoyed it so much, it was confronting to face what the occupied countries lived through. Then again, the GULAG museum in Moscow could have been just as confronting, except modern day Russia is less willing to admit to the past than those countries it oppressed.
So from the Heart of Russia (Ekaterinburg) to Vibrant Russia (Moscow); Grand Russia (St Petersburg) to Former Russia (Tallinn), the trip is now complete. Georgie and Mike have headed to Helsinki to 'continue the dream' and I am back in Copenhagen. And from looking out the window, I brought the weather back with me. Brrrr.
So from the Heart of Russia (Ekaterinburg) to Vibrant Russia (Moscow); Grand Russia (St Petersburg) to Former Russia (Tallinn), the trip is now complete. Georgie and Mike have headed to Helsinki to 'continue the dream' and I am back in Copenhagen. And from looking out the window, I brought the weather back with me. Brrrr.
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
I left Russia and came to St Petersburg
St Petersburg is a whole new world compared to everything else we've experienced in Russia. Wide boulevards with ornate and colourful buildings are in stark contrast to the bleak concrete Russia we saw when we arrived in Ekaterinburg. The calm pace is at odds with the hustle of Moscow. St Pete's belongs in western Europe. Even the piazza in front of the Hermitage resembles St Peter's square in front of the Vatican in Rome.
The Hermitage museum is housed in the winter palace of the emperors and tsars. Peter the Great shifted the capital of Russia from Moscow and named the place after himself. He and his successors scored for themselves a whopper of a palace. Inside the museum are works by Michelango, Da Vinci, Raphael, Caravaggio and the list goes on; yet probably the best part was waltzing over the ballroom floors and under the chandeliers that hosted opulent parties through til the Bolshevik Revolution of 1917. Yes, we were probably a tad too underdressed to slide back in time, but it was great all the same.
Having eaten Russia dry of beef stroganov, cabbage and beetroot salads, we move on tonight by bus to Tallinn in Estonia. Рака Россий! But i'll be back.
The Hermitage museum is housed in the winter palace of the emperors and tsars. Peter the Great shifted the capital of Russia from Moscow and named the place after himself. He and his successors scored for themselves a whopper of a palace. Inside the museum are works by Michelango, Da Vinci, Raphael, Caravaggio and the list goes on; yet probably the best part was waltzing over the ballroom floors and under the chandeliers that hosted opulent parties through til the Bolshevik Revolution of 1917. Yes, we were probably a tad too underdressed to slide back in time, but it was great all the same.
Having eaten Russia dry of beef stroganov, cabbage and beetroot salads, we move on tonight by bus to Tallinn in Estonia. Рака Россий! But i'll be back.
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Saturday, October 21, 2006
From the Capital of the Largest Country in the World
It's getting cold in Moscow; past the half way mark of Autumn and the first flurries of snow wisp around. Its not quite cold enough to settle on the ground.
It's getting dark in Moscow. The sun doesn't wake up early and it's tucked up in bed by 6. It's got no strength during the day.
It's so busy here. The metro carries nine million people each day, and we are three of them. The trains rattle in fast and stop suddenly. The doors slam shut as the last people scurry to avoid having their jackets jammed in the door.
Moscow is an adventure. Mike calls it a wild horse without a jockey and we think he's right. The cars stop for no one and no other car. The dingy dirty soviet Lada cars make way for the shiny, black Mercedes. I'm not sure what's behind those tinted windows, but I wouldn't discount a big guy with a big gun. Something automatic with silencer. Moscow has more millionaires than anywhere in the world.
Moscow has the Kremlin and Red Square. Neither of them are quite right. Each of the main buildings is just a little too far away from the next for a truly magnificent aura. But generally, the buildings in the city are nicer than the expected Soviet monstronsities, and it is easy to see why the people from Ekaterinburg think it is a beautiful city - everything's nice compared to their concrete squares. Police and uniformed army personnel are everywhere. Some openly carry automatic rifles, but most don't.
I'm here with Georgie and her cousin Mike, and we've soaked up a bit of what Moscow has to offer. Today, on our last day here, we found our way into the GULAG museum, a collection of pictures, documents and newspaper clippings from the period of the soviet concentration camps. It's tucked away off a busy street of designer shops, and attracts little attention. It's small... more than lip service but the russians still have some work to do.
Tonight we board a train in the 3rd class section; 9 hours should get us to St Petersburg. We have beds but the environment is quite communal, and vodka may replace sleep. Time will tell.
Until St Petersburg....
It's getting dark in Moscow. The sun doesn't wake up early and it's tucked up in bed by 6. It's got no strength during the day.
It's so busy here. The metro carries nine million people each day, and we are three of them. The trains rattle in fast and stop suddenly. The doors slam shut as the last people scurry to avoid having their jackets jammed in the door.
Moscow is an adventure. Mike calls it a wild horse without a jockey and we think he's right. The cars stop for no one and no other car. The dingy dirty soviet Lada cars make way for the shiny, black Mercedes. I'm not sure what's behind those tinted windows, but I wouldn't discount a big guy with a big gun. Something automatic with silencer. Moscow has more millionaires than anywhere in the world.
Moscow has the Kremlin and Red Square. Neither of them are quite right. Each of the main buildings is just a little too far away from the next for a truly magnificent aura. But generally, the buildings in the city are nicer than the expected Soviet monstronsities, and it is easy to see why the people from Ekaterinburg think it is a beautiful city - everything's nice compared to their concrete squares. Police and uniformed army personnel are everywhere. Some openly carry automatic rifles, but most don't.
I'm here with Georgie and her cousin Mike, and we've soaked up a bit of what Moscow has to offer. Today, on our last day here, we found our way into the GULAG museum, a collection of pictures, documents and newspaper clippings from the period of the soviet concentration camps. It's tucked away off a busy street of designer shops, and attracts little attention. It's small... more than lip service but the russians still have some work to do.
Tonight we board a train in the 3rd class section; 9 hours should get us to St Petersburg. We have beds but the environment is quite communal, and vodka may replace sleep. Time will tell.
Until St Petersburg....
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Moscow
Pop Art
Lenin's mausoleum
Georgie and a russian
Mike and I at the metro
The Kremlin in Moscow
St Basil's Cathedral
Ekaterinburg
Crossing the Euro-Asian border
Outside the Homestay
Soviet Tank in action
It started snowing in Ekaterinburg, just before we left. It was zero degrees as we left our Landlady Lydia at 7.30am
Sunday, October 15, 2006
Word from the Mother Russia
It's like an old Soviet film. The painted green door is made of iron and has a panel of 20 numbers. Its the same as the door 20 metres to the left, and the same as the one 20 metres to the right. We press number 42.
It's like a Soviet war movie. The paint on the cement walls is peeling. The cement stairs are cold. The smell is musty. We climb three floors to number 42. Once again, an iron door. It unlatches with a clash of metal.
It's like a fairytale. Our babushka is so friendly, but we barely understand each other. Our common languages are Russian and German and it proves enough to get by. We've arrived at 7am and its still dark, very dark, but she has made us breakfast. Huddled in a dressing gown and slippers, she serves us a porridge over which we pour sweet apples. Then a ratatouille which goes well with the sausage. There's sliced bread and chocolate biscuits. No cabbage. спасибо! Thank you!
We learn a lot on our first day, from our landlord at the homestay and the people we meet out and about. We've dispelled the myth for ourselves as to the supposed lack of friendliness of the russian people. We have had so many great encounters with both the young and old wanting to help us by now that we can dismiss the skin heads dressed in black; their pursed lips and harsh stares.
We get a taste of Ekaterinburg through its food and its streets. Russian cuisine has put in a bid to be one of my favourites. The salads are amazing, as are the soups such as борщ (Borshch). The streets are different. Wide boulevards are flanked by cold, monstrous blocks that make university halls of residence look colourful and varied. There is a lot of construction, and there are even more puddles. It's cold here, so the electronic temperature signs on some buildings tell us. Friday rose from 4 degrees at 6am to a hefty 6 degrees in the heat of the afternoon. Today reached 3 degrees. Luckily, rain has generally fallen overnight, and the puddles are no match for the boots i bought in Iceland. The cold is no match for either of the two jackets I bought yesterday.
Our experience at the train station was an interesting one, but we came out the other side with a ticket each to Moscow, leaving Ekaterinburg at 9am tomorrow morning. It takes just 24 hours and we'll be sharing a cabin with two russians. I presume they will be russian because we have met no other foreigners in our 3 days here. Even when we took a tour of the Romanov monastery, located where the last Czar is buried after being murdered, we were the only tourists. We stumbled across a russian orthodox sermon which was intense to say the least. The priests beard was as long as his robes, and I thought he may just snap the cross he clutched so tightly.
We need a supply of vodka and food for the train marathon, to get us to Moscow. Wish us luck!
дас виданя! ciao!
It's like a Soviet war movie. The paint on the cement walls is peeling. The cement stairs are cold. The smell is musty. We climb three floors to number 42. Once again, an iron door. It unlatches with a clash of metal.
It's like a fairytale. Our babushka is so friendly, but we barely understand each other. Our common languages are Russian and German and it proves enough to get by. We've arrived at 7am and its still dark, very dark, but she has made us breakfast. Huddled in a dressing gown and slippers, she serves us a porridge over which we pour sweet apples. Then a ratatouille which goes well with the sausage. There's sliced bread and chocolate biscuits. No cabbage. спасибо! Thank you!
We learn a lot on our first day, from our landlord at the homestay and the people we meet out and about. We've dispelled the myth for ourselves as to the supposed lack of friendliness of the russian people. We have had so many great encounters with both the young and old wanting to help us by now that we can dismiss the skin heads dressed in black; their pursed lips and harsh stares.
We get a taste of Ekaterinburg through its food and its streets. Russian cuisine has put in a bid to be one of my favourites. The salads are amazing, as are the soups such as борщ (Borshch). The streets are different. Wide boulevards are flanked by cold, monstrous blocks that make university halls of residence look colourful and varied. There is a lot of construction, and there are even more puddles. It's cold here, so the electronic temperature signs on some buildings tell us. Friday rose from 4 degrees at 6am to a hefty 6 degrees in the heat of the afternoon. Today reached 3 degrees. Luckily, rain has generally fallen overnight, and the puddles are no match for the boots i bought in Iceland. The cold is no match for either of the two jackets I bought yesterday.
Our experience at the train station was an interesting one, but we came out the other side with a ticket each to Moscow, leaving Ekaterinburg at 9am tomorrow morning. It takes just 24 hours and we'll be sharing a cabin with two russians. I presume they will be russian because we have met no other foreigners in our 3 days here. Even when we took a tour of the Romanov monastery, located where the last Czar is buried after being murdered, we were the only tourists. We stumbled across a russian orthodox sermon which was intense to say the least. The priests beard was as long as his robes, and I thought he may just snap the cross he clutched so tightly.
We need a supply of vodka and food for the train marathon, to get us to Moscow. Wish us luck!
дас виданя! ciao!
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
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