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!