Episode 18 (final part): Veliki Novgorod or Novgorod the Great (in both senses)

final part of my travels chaps, thanks for reading all the way!

We confused the hell out of the compartment conductor by doing an Andrei impression when he asked us if we were British:

“Dah! Koneshhnoh!” we groaned in unison causing the poor man to stare perplexingly at us.

After face-palming our idiocy, we settled down for the night train from Moscow to Veliki Novgorod and tried to get some sleep. We were on our way to one of the major, ancient cities of Russia and a place of learning and religious mysticism. We slept not really knowing what to expect. The strangely negative Lonely Planet section described it as “a bit of a backwater” and out initial impressions upon arrival at pitch-black 6am were equally as frosty.

 

 

The Old Kremlin of Novgorod

We didn’t know if we should check-in at our hostel or hit a cafe and turn up in daylight.  We stumbled, sleepily and weighed-down into the 24 hour cafe at the station and immediately froze in terror. Despite the bizarre hour, the place was packed and stacked with kebab-eating, drunk Russian men who, with gaping jaws looked at us through the sizzling heat of a grill. Silence descended menacingly over the plastic table tops. The smell of greasy meat seemed to be say “ooh foreign tourists, maybe we could relieve these good people of their bags and wallets.” We backed out sharpish and tumbled into a taxi.

Arriving at our hotel, we were confronted by another drunken group of men, this time arguing with the reception staff.  After attracting a lot of attention from them with our accents we eventually procured our key and locked ourselves in for a four hour nap, finally safe from the drunken denizens of Novgorod.

We awoke and realised how small the town was instantly: we could walk to the historical centre in 10 minutes.  After fortifying ourselves in a cafe that played some awesome 80’s music (well I like Laura Brannigan – google “self control” TUNE!) we stood awe struck looking at the beautiful kremlin that is the main attraction of the town. It easily gives the red Kremlin of Moscow a run for its money and houses the beautiful Cathedrals and churches of the ancient city. We wondered around inside a few of these and received an impromptu religious lecture from a very friendly, slightly crazy curator. Our Russian-university, student cards were incredibly handy in this town as they guaranteed us free entry to everything. We then visited the 

Cathedral of St Sophia and saw the monument to one thousand years of the Russian people – a beautiful giant, ceremonial bell (see right) with intricate carvings of scenes from Russian history.

After taking in our fill of culture we collapsed in a local bakery/cafe where we sampled some of the most affordable and tasty Russian pastries of all time. We loved it so much that we figured we’d use it as a base for the next and final day, when we would have to be up until 2am to catch our final train. The rest of the day was spent looking for places near the train station that were open long enough to crash in until we could board the train. We discovered a brilliant little restaurant and the local cinema which, to our blessing, had an odd 11 30 pm showing of the new “Tin Tin” film that ended 30 mins before our train was due to leave!

  

Me on the river

We think there was a rodent in our room, but nonetheless slept well.  On our last day we wondered the lovely, clean and cultured town once more and went to see the famous “birch-wood manuscripts” – some of the earliest examples of Russian writing. Reading the modern Russian translations we inferred that several of them were cooking recipes and many were humorous letters from different people to one another. They all began with the same phrase “Poklon ot” which roughly translates as something like “With bows of respect from...” so we figured they were kind of like a greetings cards from medieval Russia!

Staring madly at my Grape Gateaux

Eventually the evening came and we had a slap-up meal in the same restaurant as the first night as it was near the cinema and we had all of our heavy luggage with us. As a treat, we hit a really pricey cafe for last-night desserts (see picture) and found that we had a whole cinema to ourselves to enjoy “Tin Tin”. This was the best, most eccentric way to end the trip and after boarding the train at 2am we soon drifted off and woke up again in Petrozavodsk, refreshed from the road and reminded of how much we love studying this wonderful, diverse country and rich culture.

Episode 18 (part four): Goth Moscow (Lenin the Mummy, the Cemetary and a massive Cathedral)

“Nyet!” said the scary Russian police lady. “You need to leave all bags and cameras in the museum before queuing up here!” We shuffled off heads bowed in shame. Of course it was high time to visit Lenin in his mausoleum on Red Square and I got everybody out of bed with a rousing speech about the joys of visiting a dead communist! Jovial tone aside, the tomb and embalmed body of Lenin is surely a candidate for one of the wonders of the world, especially to an amateur history buff like me, so let me explain a moment...Not only is it a testament to human achievement (the mummification of a body to a level in which it can be viewed) but also the architecture and eerie atmosphere of the place gives a real sense that “here lies one of the most significant shapers of the modern world, don’t stare, keep quiet, pay your respects and move on.”

Lenin's Mausoleum on Red Square

Sure enough, the guards inside the tomb quickly moved us through with snaps of their fingers and hisses for disrespectful, noisy tourists to be. Apart from the charge of leaving your bag (roughly 60 roubles) this is a free attraction and also includes a walk around the back of the tomb, under the Kremlin walls, where many other famous heroes of the revolution lie. Someone still puts flowers on these graves, someone still puts flowers on Stalin’s...

The grave of Anton Chekhov

Not quite having our fill of death for one weekend, we took a metro trip to ‘Novodechivy Cemetary‘ (the Moscow equivalent of the ‘Père Lachaise Cemetary’ in Paris) where many famous Russians are buried. We managed to find the grave of Chekhov, Mayakovsky, Khrushchev and Yeltsin yet were disappointed by the poor map of the graveyard which did not lead us to where Gogol and Bulgakov are supposed to lie. Nevermind! Have to come back when i’m living there in January! This cemetery was again a free attraction and certainly should be on the list of things to do for literary and history fans visiting the city.

Our final major visit was to the Cathedral of Christ the Saviour which, after being destroyed and turned into an open-air swimming pool by Stalin, now dominates the skyline as a national icon of the Orthodox Church. It is truly lavish and a contrast to the grim, candlelit interior of St Basils. It reminded me of the Vatican and was awe-inspiring.

We had plenty of time left to kill before our 9 o clock train to Veliki Novgorod so we chilled out in a cafe on the beloved Arbat and passed a pleasant afternoon in high-spirited debate about pretty much everything:  corporate greed (ironic as we were sat in a McKafe), pro-wrestling, Beyonce vs Rihanna, the state of the UK, the state of Russia, the upcoming elections and the American education system. ..

This leads me to say a simple thank you to Alex, Jaya and Marilyn who made a good trip great. Travelling with you was a joy and I really hope we can the chance to reunite one day for other adventures.

Alex and I kicking back in Mckafe

Concluding episode on Veliki Novgorod will be out soon! (I will eventually have this all written up!)

Episode 18 (part two): "Forget it Jake, it's Chinatown"

hats off to anyone who gets the movie reference, boo and go watch it to those who don't

Thus continue Rob's adventures in Moscow:

GUM department store on Red Square

We rose after a long hibernation and crawled our way to Red Square again. We tried to get into the State History Museum but fell foul to bizarre Russian opening times and had to make do with exploring GUM and looking for a part of Moscow known as “Kitai Gorod” (which means "China Town" although is actually a mistranslation) According to Lonely Planet this is the GREATEST PLACE ON EARTH full of narrow streets, a gripping atmosphere and a vibrant cultural mix. We either failed miserably at navigation or found a string of unhelpful Muscovites to ask for directions from as when we finally entered the supposed area we were madly unimpressed. The supposed “narrow streets” must only have been narrow by Moscow standards (e.g. two lanes of traffic not eight) and in truth we never really felt the character of the place. It seemed like a string of restaurants offering Sushi or Arabic cuisine, a Mcdonalds and  Starbucks. Very meh. Defeated, we ate in a Russian, fast-food cafe, drinking Kvass (Russian bread beer) and planning how to get to Sparrow Hills for a stroll above the city that would hopefully reinvigorate us.

We met up with Jaya’s hostess’s granddaughter (yet another Sasha to add to our collection) at Sparrow Hills metro station and took a long stroll around the imposing state university that dominates this part of the skyline. Built as one of Stalin’s “Seven Sisters”, the university is one of the best in Russia and is characteristic of Soviet neo-classical and “wedding cake” architecture. In my opinion it is also absolutely terrifying. Even more so than the gargoyles of Oxford colleges and St John’s porters....

We then took a long trip on the Moscow metro to get back into town. Sasha wished to take us to the Tretyakov Art Gallery – Moscow’s equivalent of the Hermitage in St Petersburg and a pilgrimage for lovers of Russian art and culture. We were not disappointed. Several hours were easily filled here looking at some of Russia’s most famous portraits and landscapes. Unfortunately the cloak-room staff and security guards were a little too self-important and snooty which somewhat soured our impression at first, yet overall, the majesty of the place and the calibre of the collection won us all over. My favourite works were probably those of Vrubel who I would now rank as one of my favourite artists (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mikhail_Vrubel) although I really enjoyed the portraits of famous Russian authors, a lot of which are reproduced on the backcovers of the editions of their works that I read at uni.

Taking a break in McCafe (don't judge us!)

It was with aching feet and sore eyes that we ended up deflated and in need of food, our brains swelling with stirring images from Russia’s cultural past. Sasha suggested we should try to eat at Moo Moo’s on the Arbat (Moscow’s most famous street) as not only was the food good, but the atmosphere of this part of town would make up for the Kitai Gorod disappointment.

Agreeing we parted ways and plummeted again through Moscow’s beautiful metro to the Arbat station – possibly one of the prettiest stops – and in no time we were queuing up for a mega buffet of Russian, edible goodness. I highly recommend Moo Moo as a stop for travellers and tourists wishing to eat things a la Russe and the two outlets on the Arbat are probably the most comfortable and convenient. After eating we strolled up and down researching souvenir prices in the obviously expensive stores that line the streets. The Arbat is something of a "Las Ramblas" for anyone who has been to Barcelona and also has its share of street entertainers. We easily killed another hour here and returned contented to our hostel for more sleep – we were still dead on our feet from the gallery.

Posing with the Moo Moo cow on the Arbat

More really soon, probably tomorrow as I need to get this all written up :)

BONUS PHOTOS: Red Square day and night

As promised a malenki, little photo update ala Tumblr!

Onto Red Square

Looks a bit familiar...

The State History Museum

On Red Square

Photobombing Red Square

Rob in front of GUM

Episode 18 (Part One): Moscow, hostels, builders and Basil's

"ты хочешь знать, что видел я на воле?"

Mikhail Lermontov, "Mtsyri" 

Oh would that I had a smart phone so that I could have better kept my word and filled you in from the road dear reader! Or rather not, because I was having far too much fun to write blog-posts! So stop complaining! Jeez!

Bags all packed!

Of course we arrived a little heady and tired-eyed into Leningrad Station (also known by its old name Oktyabersky Vokzal as our confusing train tickets taught us) and dropped our bags underneath the giant Lenin head in the entrance hall. The train journey was pretty good. Alex took a fantastic photo of me cramming a bun into my mouth but unfortunately his camera went missing later in the trip...(that’s another story.) Spending the night in the platzkart (cheapest) carriage was pretty much ok. We were not robbed or murdered. We did not encounter “bizarre people” as one of our university teachers guaranteed. Our conductor was pleasant and once the large lady sat opposite us stopped snoring we were able to shut our eyes and drift away into sleep as the Karelian forests dwindled outside the window...

We knew we were in expensive, metropolitan Moscow because all of a sudden all the toilets cost 20 roubles a go and in every direction we were confronted by H&M and Zara advertising. The pavements were clean and unbroken. People from various ethnic groups cropped up all over the place. The tang of a nearby Mcdonalds drifted over the streets. Yes still Russia, but sadly a lot more like anywhere else in the world.

A gorgeous fountain in the 'Alexandrovsky Sad'

The Moscow metro was our first port of call and we easily navigated our way to “Okhotni Ryad” which was the station nearest our hostel. Our eyes opened wide as we emerged onto street level and came face to face with not only the newly-opened Bolshoi Theatre but also with the State Duma (parliament) and the red walls of the Kremlin. Who knew the main attractions were so close together! The sun was shining, we were in high spirits and I didn’t even need my mittens! Moscow grasped us immediately and the brief illusion that we were in any-old, global city was shattered by the red Russification of those searing onion domes.

"rising majestically" (ignore the manhole)

We found the hostel no problem, tucked in an alley near the Armenian Embassy annex. The friendly reception staff adored our fragrantly accented Russian and showed us the windy, confusing route to our room. Our four- bed dorm was nestled under several flights of stairs and the neighbouring rooms were being renovated by a gang of sketchy builders smoking, swearing and loitering in the hostel. Their sleazy sneers and loud protestations made our first trip to the showers a little tentative but hey we’re young and pretty aren’t we? Nothing to be ashamed of and no awkward towel slippages... So yes we felt a little uneasy at first but had a prime location near the communal kitchen and showers and our door had a decent double-lock so we soon settled in.

After taking a short break to wash ourselves up and wipe the sleepydust from our eyes we hit Red Square – a candidate for the country's greatest icon- and were greeted by the stunning St Basil’s Cathedral rising majestically on the skyline. It was our very own Virginia Woolf "moment of being" but we couldn't shake the gruesome story that Ivan the Terrible, according to legend, blinded the architect who built it so that he could never design anything more awe-inspiring. As always I find myself returning to my philiosophy that no matter how beautiful or crazy Russia seems it will never, ever be boring!

More really really soon. (no, really. I’m not having you on anymore)

Episode 17: I made it to Moskva! (or Rob has no time for blogging right now...)

Oh so much to let you all know and so little time! Instead of writing up all my adventures now, hurriedly and without photos, I have decided to wait until I am back in PTZ (what the cool kids call it) where I can upload at my leisure and put my thoughts in order. For now, click the link on the right to find my twitter page where I'll be keeping you all updated, as usual, with weird thoughts from the road.

Basically get ready for one massive episode when I get back featuring waxwork communists, looking like Gogol,  haggling with bored market traders, looking for a curry, taking "shocked face" photos in Red Square, giant cleaning ladies and the super rich...oh Moscow.

Episode 16: Kanikuli!!

What have I gotten myself into this time?? The red city is calling me. The night train wheezes at the station. Silence descends over Petrozavodsk.

It's the uni holidays! Like having half-term all over again! Oxford doesn't allow the luxury of the reading week so I have decided to go all out and hit up a couple of Russian towns in an action-packed week of suspense and drama! Leaving this Sunday from the station, my friends and I will be plunging southwards from the northern darkness on a train bound for Moscow where we intend to be proper, noisy tourists. Our list of things to try and accomplish includes having tea with a Lenin impersonator and seeing the man himself, not being able to afford anything in GUM, trying to find a curry (so desperate to eat curry!!) and potentially seeing what all the master-and-margarita fuss is about with these "Patriarch's Ponds..."

Coming to a Russian town near YOU (maybe not)

After spending a few days in the capital we will once again overnight-train-it to Veliki Novgorod. Although near unheard of in the West, this is apparently a gem of ancient Russia and famous for some lovely, old architecture and monuments. All we hope to find is respite from the supposedly manic pace of life that will be Moscow. Somewhere where we can chill out, have some kvass and regain some energy before returning to the 'Gosuniversitet' for our last weeks of study.

So it's certainly not goodbye from "fromrussiawithrob" but i'll be relying on internet cafes and hostels for updates from now. Maybe it'll mean more tweets and photos and less text but hey, expect a proper write-up when I get back! Poka!


thanks for following and do keep doing so! x

Episode 9 (part two): This isn't Paris, this isn't London, it's not Berlin, it's not Hong Kong...

continued impressions of life in a small(ish), Russian town...

The giant orange paw prints painted on the pavement led the way to Cafe Begemot. A cafe named after a giant, ficticious, black cat with a Browning automatic? I'm there!
We edged slowly down the narrow granite and marble staircase towards to front door.

Begemot spots me from a roof...

"Is it open? It doens't look open..."
A man pushed the door open at us giving us a start.
"Yup it's open"
We went in tentatively. Oh wow.

Red velvet curtains led the way through the first room. Bookcases lined the walls, and expensive, black-leather sofas framed polished-wood coffee tables. More curtains tastefully tied back with gold cords, led into the second room - a giant basement, red bricked like the Kremlin with musical instruments in chipped, bronze frames in the walls. A jazz band played cooly on a stage. They wore sunglasses.

If there is one thing Petrozavodsk does well, it's bars. Tasteful interior design, attentive staff and high-class atmospheres somehow come paired with unbelievably cheap pints (over £1.50 you're paying too much). This is still taking some getting used to!

If there's one thing Petrozavodsk doesn't do well its pavements. Giant potholes line the roads and side walks. They fill up with water during the many many downpours and cars regularly kick up this muddy slush, showering pedestrians waiting at the city's very few road crossing. This is hardly the fault of the town and I imgagine it has something to do with the extremities of climate: water getting into cracks, freezing and expanding.

Public transport is great, but it is also a kind of experience in it's own right. At rush hour trolleybuses fill up and steam up. Yes there is always the smelly guy in the corner of the bus in the UK, but could someone please open a window? Ok it's not that bad. The price of public transport and the frequency of services is absoultely amazing and it's hardly a country's fault for it's citizens' ignorance of deodrant. The "one price any distance" system is a blessing for students providing you don't try and pay with a big note and if you can put up with the bumpy ride, the lead feet of just about every driver gets you to where you want to go in no time.

All the cool kids just say " I took the trolley yesterday"

I don't like to complain much - after all I chose to study here and love it but if there is one more thing that stands out as a slight annoyance about life here then it is the degree of scorn that accompanys most monetary transactions. Russians seemingly hate giving change, and even big supermarket cashiers are prepared to start a duel over the slightest overpayment. It must be a weakness of the currency system, but when bankomats (cash machines) only give out 500 and 1000 notes I have no idea how the locals get by...

People here are mostly very friendly. Foreigners are greeted with more warmth than suspicion. I suppose curiosity translates awkwardly a lot of the time and we feel stared at simply for being here. After dark things are a little edgy. Drinking in the street is common place here and big groups of Russian men cluster under lamps on street corners, half empty litre bottles of beer swinging menacingly in their hands. Stick in a group guys.

and now for something completely different...cheers for reading.

Episode 8: The cat, the classroom and the caviar...

'Cos nothing says good morning like a spoonful of fish eggs! Or that's what I thought when I awoke last Sunday to a giant bowl of porridge and a jar of caviar. Certainly not going to go hungry in this country as they are overfeeding me like an ageing house-pet! No matter how carefully I word my responses to "But you have eaten nothing!" I always seem to be a subject of concern to my lovely hostess Valya.

One of our teachers at the uni described Russian attitudes to students as being a little backwards and I think I know what he means. I don't exactly feel patronised, but the level of care and grandmothering that people of my age face in Russia is something from a gone-by era in the UK. We're told to wrap up warm, to eat plenty of food and to look both ways when crossing the road. I know students are dopey but we're also fiercly, hormonally-proud creatures...

Anyway much to my joy, when my hostess returned from a late-summer trip to her dacha, she brought with her a cat!!! Anyone regularly reading fromrussiawithrob not only deserves to be bought a drink, but also will know that one of my main questions when heading to Rus would be whether Russians are the cat lovers I thought they were. Well I was right! And I now occupy a diddy flat with Valya, an old man who I barely understand and Lapsya/Lapsa I little-bitty-kitty, ginger in colour and Persian (I think). 

Schoolniversity,eh?

Alright, sillyness out of my system it's time to blog properly! I'm attending classes at Petrozavodsk State University and I have a few first impressions and comparisons with English univeristy to share. Firstly, boy does everyone look young! Before you say it, yes I don't exactly look my age all the time. In fact, if I shave, I have trouble buying Die Hard on DVD, but my point here is that Russian university resembles a large sixth form college. A bell rings inbetween lessons. Students are taught in classrooms. There is an assembly hall, one cafeteria and no discernable bar!! It's a little strange, but twice I've called it school entirely be accident. Many of the students start here at 17.

Instead of freshers' week there is an upcoming "Day of the First Years", which involves some kind of choral sing-along and festivities. Everything in comparison to our first-week-of-uni debauchery seems madly innocent here. I'm certainly not reevaluating my philiosophy, i'd still pick freshers flu, losing my voice and regretful kisses over feeling nannyed any day, but it begs the question as to which system produces the better young people? Do we grow up too fast in the UK? or does Russian university serisouly lack some rock n roll?

EPISODE 7: Rob arrives in Russia

Episode 7: Rob arrives in Russia...

( A long post this one - a lot has happened and I’ve been without internet)

Great-Dane’s cheekbones! I actually pulled it off! Arriving at Pulkovo airport to a warm and muggy St Petersburg, I shuffled nervously with the other RLUS (our course operator) students towards the minibus that would be taking us 7 hours north to Petrozavodsk. It was a battered white Mercedes that had seen better days but nontheless gave off an aura of reliability despite its shabby coating.

Lake Onega, Petrozavodsk

The driver, “Alexei” I think, had a crafty grin that somehow made him seem reliable – not sure what that says about Russia. We also met a chap who would be our guide, teacher and one of the few English speakers available to help us. He has the cool of the eternal student and, after extinguishing a cigarette, helped us heap our luggage onto the dusty bus seats.

Suddenly we were motorwaying out of Petersburg and trying to form new friendships with each other while attempting to withstand a dreadful bisecting by our overenthusiastic seatbelts. We bonded quickly by watching in amazement as our bus, the slowest thing on the road, was overtaken on the outside and inside by all manner of LADA, modified BMW and converted army truck. The Russian motorway was long and a little frightening, seeming vastly unregulated even so close to a major city.

 Having small-talked for an hour or so we all retreated to our ipod islands and even got a few hours sleep. The effects of our complimentary BA full-English breakfast had worn off by about 2-and-a-half-hours into the journey and Sasha negotiated a stop at a Russian service station in a small town.  Here we bought crisps (“Chipsy” in Russian) and water and huddled outside the small shop while our driver vanished into the “Cafe”, it looked more like a strip club, for twenty minutes or so.

A man, drunken in gait, with an unleashed, black dog approached us from behind. I heard him mutter the words “ Eh, lads..?” among a string of other unknowable, Slavonic syllables, and I gaped at him not knowing how to answer. It turned out he was asking for a cigarette and having said a nervous “Nyet” in reply, I watched him nod and walk past. He apologised profusely for having caused us any kind of disturbance, which I found very sweet, and he disappeared behind the petrol pumps

The next few hours of journey I barely remember. The afternoon was slowly dying and my eyelids became heavy with lack of sleep. We seemed to be entering a large forest and the motorway was stretching on for miles. I drifted off counting the headlights approaching us down the vast, straight Russian roads. They bobbed and dipped hypnotically like lighted boats on a choppy river.

I was woken up by the slowing down of the bus at a second service station this time resembling a bombed tractor factory. It was nearly, fully dark by this point and road signs indicated that the road ahead was going to get even worse:  so far it had been bumpy at best. Having stretched my legs, I felt refreshed enough to stay awake for a while. We still had about 2 hours to drive by this point and as we left the station I marvelled at the denseness of the forests that cover this part of North-European Russia.

The roads here are lined with innumerable birch (the national tree) and they flicker past your eyes like old black and white picture frames if you press your face up to the glass. The forest is ghostly and cold. It seeps in through the windows. Before long I had covered myself with my coat and was pushing myself for more sleep just to help the tens of kilometres go by faster.

I was awoken with a start by the bus slowing down. We were about an hour from Petrozavodsk and one of our party desperately needed to urinate. The driver reluctantly pulled over at the side of the road and the desperate traveller, thanking him, leapt into the night drizzle to dash for the bushes.

Suddenly he came back.

“Er, there’s a guy out here..."

Sure enough, a man in full camo-gear, carrying a stinking white bucket of mushrooms boarded the bus behind him and waddled over to speak to our driver. We suddenly all looked very serious. The look on the face of our guide was at first one of slight panic, but between him and the driver, the three men negotiated a kind of deal. The stranger was simply hitchhiking his way back to town after a weekend’s forest scrounging, and our guide regained his natural cool which relieved us all.

Chai!

At first no-one could sleep, the mushroom hunter proved highly talkative and stood ominously at the back of the bus trying to start a conversation about football. If it wasn’t for the lurid smell of the mushrooms and the fact the man may have been armed, it would have been completely unproblematic, but coming from a country where all forms of hitchhiking are treated with suspicion this was, at the time, a pretty frightening experience.

We arrived very late in the town, but our host families were ready to greet us. I arrived at the apartment of my hostess, to a table full of Russian cold meats and cheese and was even more relieved to be poured a mug of fantastic Russian tea...

more soon!