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 :)

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 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.