The Travel Chronicles: Part I: White Snow on Red Square

The biggest city in Europe, Moscow has the buildings, the streets (and the traffic) and of course the people to prove it. And, not that it needs it, but it has plenty of the sense of imposition and painful history too.

We arrived in the capital city of Russia early on Friday morning by night train. I think it ended up being about an eight hour ride – needless to say none of us got a full nights sleep – of food, cards, talking, and laughing. Sarah, Vika, Tom, and I ended up in the same compartment and we were joined by some of the guys and Kelly and Melissa for some card games and to eat the rather ridiculous amount of food our hazaikas had given us/we had bought for the trip. When our alarms woke us up before seven the next morning we were already on the outskirts of Moscow, and Irina Borisovna was far too chipper and awake as she ran up and down the corridors making sure we were all alive and moving. From the train we piled onto buses and made the quick drive to the hotel – I remember seeing lots of small stores and dirty streets but we were all pretty tired – for breakfast. Not quite like the breakfast buffet in Estonia, but there was plenty to eat and there was even an omelet station! Perhaps more importantly, there was caffeinated tea and coffee, as we were set for a bus tour right after breakfast.

Our guide, Edward, proved entertaining enough to keep us awake (most of the time, as I think I did nod off a little just before Red Square) as we drove toward the center of the city. Without doubt, the Kremlin is the beating heart of Moscow. So we drove along the river – where an incredibly tall monument to Peter the Great towers over even the boats and the bridges – towards said beating heart. We were shocked awake by the cold when we got off the bosses, and then were shocked again to realize that the square is truly as beautiful as it looks in the millions of pictures we had all seen of it. With St. Basil’s at one end, the red brick of the Historical Museum on the other, and the other two sides formed by the Kremlin and GYM (pronounced goom, absolutely giant and beautiful mall), it was incredible to realize just where we were standing. Though we wouldn’t be going into the Kremlin until the next day, we took as many pictures as we could of the outside of it and of all the cupolas on St. Basil’s – under each of which there is a different chapel. It is an imposing place, has a different feel from the Palace Square of St. Petersburg with the Winter Palace and the Neva. This is probably due, at least in part, to the existence of Lenin’s mausoleum. It is such a strange concept, I am not even sure how to describe it. Apparently, according to our conversation teacher, there is often talk of moving Lenin to a cemetery or something but it has never really gotten anywhere. It was incredibly strange, to be taking pictures of the outside of something that we knew contained such a historic figure in such a strange state of preservation. Luckily, the warmth and fountains of GYM didn’t let us dwell to long on the rather creepy implications of the fact that we were essentially walking all over Lenin’s grave. We were freezing after waiting just a few minutes, and when it was finally almost time to get back on the buses Irina Borisovna taught the five of us girls a little folk dance to keep our feet moving. So I can now say I’ve danced in the Red Square. (Which, incidentally, is actually ‘Beautiful Square’ from the old Russian.)

From there we headed to the place where it is rumored Tchaikovsky was inspired to compose ‘Swan Lake’, for the name of the place is ‘Swan Lake’! It is just outside a convent where many royal wives were sent to live out their days when they failed in their duty to produce an heir. There are no swans anymore, but plenty of ducks – including some bronze ones given by First Lady Barbara Bush – and a playground! A few of us couldn’t resist a quick climb up the rope ladder and slide down the pole, much to the amusement of the Russian children playing there. Then it was back on the bus to head up to the main campus of Moscow State University, which is on a hill providing a great view of the stretching metropolis that is Moscow. We also got a close view of the ski jump used for the Moscow Olympics boycotted by the United States – it now looks very strange as just a lone piece of tall construction rising above the hill.

After driving – actually sitting in traffic was more like it with driving occurring only occasionally – through the center streets of the city past the national library, the main shopping district, many federal buildings, and plenty of embassies, we headed back to the hotel to check-in and rest. Our hotel (Beta) was part of a complex built for the Olympics, and had a supposedly ‘star-trek’ theme that manifested itself largely through a strange combination of silver metal accents, bright blue lighting, and interesting ‘other-worldly’ water and garden features. Star-Trek? Maybe not quite. Uniquely Russia? Oh yes. Everyone grabbed a couple hours nap and then headed out exploring. I went with the girls to St. Basil’s cathedral, which is a labyrinth of small chapels – it is two stories – that I can just as easily picture a child playing hide-and-go-seek in as monks wandering through the corridors holding candles and singing Gregorian chants. The icons were exquisite, and the paintings on the walls had an antique feel, as though they would need to be restored in a few years but would rather stay just as they were than be updated in brighter colors. The balcony on the second level provided beautiful views of the square and the city across the river. It was sometimes hard to believe we were standing inside such an important piece of Russian culture, it was so beautiful and authentic feeling. Which doesn’t even really begin to describe it, but I was never very good at describing churches. They have a feel, rather than a look, provide a sense rather than an understanding. Which, in my opinion, is as it should be.

We window-shopped for a while, but with Moscow being one of the most expensive cities in the world (if I can just get myself to Tokyo next semester I’ll have been in the top 3…just kidding!), were sure we wouldn’t be buying anything. Then we headed off in search of a Georgian restaurant that Melissa had read about in order to spend some of our food stipend! The Moscow metro is as different as can be from the Petersburg metro, has many more stops and is sometimes just a flight of stairs beneath the surface. Some of the stations were elaborately decorated with statues and other decorations, but others were more plain. Soviet symbols, however, could still be seen in almost every one. On our way to the restaurant, it had started to snow! It was the first snow of the season in Moscow, and though we had already had snow in Petersburg we experienced the excitement all over again as we slid our way to dinner. The proprietress of the restaurant welcomed us warmly inside, chattering away about how we must be frozen but wasn’t the snow just so beautiful and on and on. We had an absolutely adorable waiter, the service was incredible, the food delicious, and the wine even better! We slipped and slid our way to a café afterwards for some chocolate fondue, and caught the metro back just before it closed to crash for the night.

The next morning we were up early for our tour of the Kremlin, which was absolutely wonderful and incredibly interesting. Our guide explained that Stalin was the last leader to actually live in the Kremlin, and that many of the formers are also buried in its grounds. The Kremlin is the heart of Moscow, and therefore the heart of Russia – and the heart of the Kremlin is the square on which its churches are located, next to the bell-tower built by Ivan the Great (grandfather of Ivan the Terrible). The tsar’s dwelling and that of the patriarch were right across the square from each other, reinforcing the importance of their relationship. A giant cannon stands guard over the square – incidentally pointed at the building where the president now works, a situation that is apparently the subject of endless jokes for the Russians – and a giant bell that was never rung due to a crack sits just next to it. Every city on this side of the Atlantic seems to have something that you have to rub for good luck – Moscow has more than one – and one of Moscow’s is a part of this bell. So after appropriately taking off our gloves to gain some luck, we went in the cathedral where all Russian tsars were crowned, and also in one of the other three cathedrals on the square. The icons in the Kremlin, in my opinion, are unrivaled even by those in Novgorod and the museums. Perhaps it was the atmosphere, perhaps something else. In any event, from the churches we went to tour the ‘armory’, the museum of the Russian treasury to experience the splendor of the Russian empire preserved by the communists.

Whoever it was among the Bolsheviks who suggested that these pieces – not only the silver and Faberge and jeweled icon covers but also the churches we had just seen and the beauty of the Kremlin itself – were too important to the national heritage to Russia or even to the USSR to be destroyed has my eternal gratitude. In light of the destruction that they caused elsewhere and the havoc they wreaked on the beauty of the churches in the capital in particular, it is somewhat incredible to realize that everything in the Kremlin survived. Though some of the Faberge collection and other pieces in royal possession were sold or found their way abroad, the extensive collection on display at the armory pays testament to the fact that much was allowed to remain. From the beautiful carriages of Catherine the Great to the boots of Peter the Great and silver brought from diplomats from Germany and the icon cases from Russia herself, we spent a few hours just admiring the many beautiful things before us and being thankful that we were able to see them.

After the Kremlin – we had to vacate the area because of a military parade on the Red Square commemorating the march of the Soviet troops from there to the front – we wandered around the shopping and central districts of the city, making the obligatory stop in Starbucks (and don’t roll your eyes, I don’t even like their coffee but you would miss white chocolate mochas too and don’t deny it) before getting Russian food for lunch and doing some souvenir shopping. That night Vika and I were unsure of what we wanted to do and ended up talking in a coffee shop for a couple of hours which was great, we got to know each other a lot better and it was the perfect evening that I needed – I knew I’d be back in Moscow at least once or twice in the spring to visit the OU program there so I wasn’t worried about cramming everything in to our 2 day visit – because I wanted to arrive in Berlin at my best to prepare for the celebrations Monday night and a week of taking advantage of being back where I feel truly at home, never mind the fact that I had never been there. So we ended the night with chicken wings and blini.

The next day we said our good-byes and everyone headed their separate ways for travel week. I went souvenir shopping at the market with some of the guys – though couldn’t buy much due to space limitations – before heading to the airport with Kelly. The airport we were flying out of – I believe there are 4 – looked somewhat like a space pod and contained more duty-free stores than I believe I have ever seen in one place. Waiting to get on the plane, I couldn’t suppress (though I’m not going to say that I tried) the feeling that I was heading home from some strange trip. Its impossible to explain to someone who has never experienced the feeling, and saying that its an incredible feeling doesn’t seem to do it justice. I almost hugged the stewardess when she said good evening to me in German, and when I saw the newspapers I could have cried if I wasn’t so busy smiling like my face would break. So I spent the flight reading up on the excitement that awaited me…in Berlin!

To be continued…