Hub of Empire

Thursday 27 May 1999 – Saturday 29 May 1999                                        

We arrived in Moscow early the following morning, awakened by the uplifting strains of (Communist?) marches blasting their way through the loudspeaker system; it didn’t take us long to figure out how the controls on that worked.  We took advantage of the almost deserted station to sit and drink our tea and coffee at leisure, taking in our surroundings and figuring out in which direction to head.

We opted for another Soviet hotel only a stone’s throw from Red Square and it was here we learnt the tactic of requesting a “Russian style” as opposed to “foreign” room.  For a slightly less decorative abode, without cable TV but with the same prospect of hot water (i.e. not much), we secured a hotel room for half the price simply by being housed in the so-called Russian wing.  Not bad when you’re on a budget!  As had now become customary, the first thing on our minds was water and soap.  As ever, we'd missed the hot water, but there’s very little you won’t settle for after not washing for 24 hours.

Moscow proved to be a far more cosmopolitan city than St. Petersburg.  It still offered a profuse collection of 5-star hotels and western delicacies such as McDonald's and TGI Fridays, but they blended into the scenery far more naturally than they had done in St. Petersburg.  Neither did it have the same dull, depressing feel about it; at least Muscovites bothered with the occasional fresh coat of paint.  Moreover, Moscow was every bit as historical and fascinating as St. Petersburg had been and we were out on the tourist trail with a vengeance.

There was so much to see in Moscow beyond the Kremlin and Red Square and it was a challenge for us to fit in as much as we could in the three days we had.  The churches in the Kremlin house a magnificent collection of icons (traditional religious paintings) that even the most uneducated among us (i.e. Pippa!) could not help but admire.  We were in tough competition against the Japanese tourists to see who could take the most pictures but reckon we beat them over St. Basils Cathedral in Red Square: an entire roll of film disappeared on that alone!

Our one major cultural interlude was a night at the Bolshoi Theatre to see the opera Boris Godunov; every bit as professional as anything we’ve seen at the Royal Opera House in London over the years.  The scenery and costumes were lavish and colourful and the music spectacular.  In fact, the only thing that reminded you where you were was the long wait between acts when everything was moved on and off stage by hand rather than being whisked off at the flick of a switch.  It was perhaps the closest we came to being able to picture Russia as it was during the reign of the Tsars and an experience not to be missed.

Despite the numerous differences, one striking similarity between Moscow and St. Petersburg was the degree of hospitality and customer service (i.e. very little).  Service with a smile seemed to exist only behind the counter in McDonald's, and we shall never forget Eric making friends with the locals whilst queuing for pizza.  As we stood in line to pay, constant streams of people began to by-pass us, moving directly to the front and waving their Rubles in the air as if these were some kind of “get-out-of-jail-free” card.  Fed up with their lack of manners, Eric barred their way and told them (as only an American ex-investment banker can) to get to the back of the queue and wait their turn.  Doubtless they understood not a word of what was said but such an unorthodox outburst certainly got results.  

It was perhaps surprising we were not arrested on the spot for disturbing the peace but our brushes with Russian officialdom were few and far between.  Our only encounter was in Moscow one afternoon as we sat on the grass outside the Kremlin walls eating ice creams and watching the world go by.  Sitting on the grass, apparently, is not the done thing and it was with reluctance that we relinquished our passports for inspection, fully expecting to have to hand over money (not the sort of fine you get a receipt for).  Compared with what was to come in China, this was easy.

On the day we were to set off on our three day voyage on the Trans-Siberian, we headed for a nearby western-style supermarket to pick up food for the journey.  It was a pleasure to actually be able to select items from the shelves yourself rather than have to point to what you want from behind a counter, wait for the shop assistant to write out a receipt, take the receipt to the cashier’s desk to pay and then return with yet another receipt to collect your purchases before moving to the next counter to start the process all over again.  Having learnt our lesson on our journey from Berlin to St. Petersburg, we avoided anything that required any kind of cooking (other than adding hot water and stirring) and stocked up on bread, cheese, sausage, and especially chocolate (always appropriate on any kind of journey!). 

That evening, we negotiated our way through the underground once again and by 21.30 were pulling out of the station on our way to Siberia.