Some Like It Hot

Casey writes:

We are currently embracing the most challenging conditions of our trip so far. We are on a train from Almaty to Aralsk for 36 hours. The temperature outside is pushing 40+ degrees, but inside, with a third class carriage full of 54 people and no air-conditioning, the conditions are bordering on extreme. We love the fact that this is all part of the experience! The air is hot, stuffy and stale; part of my seat is too hot to sit on due to the sun's rays burning it through the windows; lying down means being further away from the small open window and therefore not enough air to breath comfortably; and standing up makes my vision blur and nausea set in within about 30 seconds. Despite these challenging conditions, being on a train in the middle of Kazakhstan is an amazing travel experience, and one we will never forget!

We, like everyone else on board the train, have resorted to fans and wet towels, but there is little respite. The vomit bag is close by and I've had to reach for it a few too many times (fortunately, all were false alarms). We are wiping away the sweat dripping down our legs, arms, necks and backs, and the leather seat we are sitting on resembles a swimming pool. I drank my Kit Kat chocolate bar that was faring worse than either of us, and the water in my drink bottle is hotter than most showers I endured in Russia.

The landscape outside is beautiful. It's a barren dry grassland, with the odd cow, the odd camel, and the odd village. How on earth do people live here? I take my hat off to them because I think their resilience is truly amazing.

Despite the heat, there are so many positives to this train journey. The only children in our compartment are quiet, well-behaved and polite. We are not sure if this is because Grandma has a firm hand, or that they are unconscious in the heat. Either way, we are counting our blessings.

The other people in our compartment are lovely. Gone are the rude, loud and obnoxious families of our previous trips. Instead, we have a super friendly young girl with a beautiful smile named Malika. She is enjoying practising her English with us, and has shared her food and her knowledge of Kazakhstan. The Grandmother next door is lovely - she has already offered us a lift to our accommodation in Aralsk, and forced her grandson to be in numerous photos with Richard. The guy next to us is quiet and also polite, and he is quite efficient - his solution to the empty plastic bottles on the table is to throw them out the window without fuss. Out of sight out of mind is obviously a good philosophy in Kazakhstan.

So after the snow and freezing conditions of Mongolia and Siberia, we are now embracing the heat and making the most of our Central Asian experience. My advice to Kazakhstan is to perhaps do some research into the benefits of air-conditioning: shops, trains, buses and hostels would be so much more comfortable with this small innovation. In the meantime, we will continue to love this beautiful (and hot) country, and, I am sure it may make me appreciate London's cold weather all the more when we finally arrive. 

Almaty Part 1 - The Father Of Apples

Casey writes:

Almaty just might be our new 'fav' destination of this trip. Previously named Alma-Ata (father of apples), it is a beautiful city, with pretty tree-lined streets, friendly people, good food and great sights.

We had allocated three days in Almaty prior to our side trip to Aralsk, with the hope of getting our Uzbekistan and Iranian visas from the respective embassies in that time. We knew that this was probably optimistic, given some of the visa horror stories we had heard, and that we also had to find time to re-register our Kazakh visas, and we were also hoping to fit in a little bit of sight-seeing as well.

Uzbekistan Visas

The embassy opens at 2:00pm daily for foreign visitors. We left our hotel at 10:00am for the one hour walk to the embassy, with the intention to find the notoriously tricky entrance, go and get some lunch and then come back early to write our name on an apparent list that we'd been told about. Arriving at 11:00am we were greeted with an unexpected sight: at least fifty people were milling around outside the entrance (which at least made it easy to find), all holding passports and documentation in their hands. We could see no obvious order to proceedings, no signs in English, no list for names to be written on, and the guard blocking the gateway only knew one English word: 'visas'. Given the huge crowd and fearing that we'd miss our opportunity if we left to get lunch, we joined the horde of Kazakh and Uzbek people. The crowd was quite calm although there were no queues or organisation. I left Richard with our documents and disappeared to get some burgers from Hardee's (Kazakhstan's equivalent of McDonalds) for lunch. At 1:00pm, two hours after we had arrived, suddenly there was pandemonium. Fifty crazed Kazakhs and Uzbeks instantly launched themselves at the gate that was being opened, madly pushing and shoving and waving their documents wildly in the air. It appeared that the guard was just plucking people out of the crowd randomly, allowing them to enter the embassy. This resulted in the remaining throng pushing and shoving even harder and yelling more urgently, their documents flapping in their hands as they gestured in frustration. 

Richard and I watched in amazement - here were apparent adults, behaving like children. We were trying to work out our own strategy to run the gauntlet and enter the embassy, when an American man arrived and spoke to us. We were elated for two reasons: Firstly, he spoke English! And secondly, he was an archeologist who regularly works in Central Asia, and therefore knew how the embassy proceedings worked. We learnt that at 1:00pm the local people have to fight their way into the embassy. And at 2:00pm, the 'foreign' group would get invited in without fuss. 

And he was right. At just after 2:00pm, seven of us 'foreigners' were escorted through the crowd of frustrated locals, straight into the embassy. Amid a little bit of chaos lining up, a walk to the bank, and a fifteen minute wait once back at the embassy, we emerged with our Uzbekistan visas! A one hour walk home and the whole process only took us 7 hours.

We are going to Uzbekistan!

Iranian Visas

We had read that the visa formalities at the Iranian embassy would be much calmer than the Uzbek embassy. But, with Richard's British passport causing us initial delays in the process, we were nervous about what we would encounter when we arrived at the embassy in person.

We didn't plan on the one hour walk being up a steep hill, and at 9:00am in the morning it was already hot. We eventually arrived, out of breath, and as a precaution I donned long sleeves, long pants, and a head scarf before entering the embassy.

The process was formal and efficient. The man behind the counter spoke English, we filled out a form, went to the bank (hitching a ride with a random car each way), and returned, only waiting twenty minutes before we emerged with our visas. No fuss, no chaos, no stress.

We are going to Iran!

The Sights of Almaty

We were beside ourselves that we now had a day and a half free for sight-seeing in Almaty. We visited Zenkhov Cathedral in Panfilov Park, Kok-Tobe Mountain via cable-car, St Nicholas' Cathedral, Gorky Park and the Green Market. We also had to make yet another appearance at the Migration Police, in order to re-register our visas, despite already going through the rigmarole in Astana. Again, the police office was chaos, again there were no English signs, and again we had to fill out and sign a form that was entirely in Russian. We became very good at using our elbows to fend off the pushers and shovers in the queue, and after an hour we had the necessary paperwork and were free to leave.

We have opted to make our way around the city of Almaty by walking, rather than public transport. As a result, we have seen much more of the city that we would otherwise have missed. When we happened to walk past the State Opera and Ballet Theatre, we took our chances and went in to the ticket office. I had previously hoped to book opera tickets on their website, but I had been unable to decipher the Russian instructions. The woman at the ticket office spoke no English, but after a lot of gesturing and attempts at communication, we left the office with two tickets in our hands, although we weren't quite sure for what. Upon closer inspection, we could read the word 'opera' in Russian, although not the title of the opera, and the date and the time fortunately coincided with our time in Almaty when we return from Aralsk. We are looking forward to whatever the performance may be, as this theatre is deemed to be the top cultural venue in Almaty!

Almaty is a place we feel at home in, and we could easy live here, although the extreme temperatures (35 degrees in summer and -30 degrees in winter) might deter us just a little! Richard has fallen in love with the burgers at Hardee's, and the cafeteria just around the corner from our hostel serves a variety of great local dishes at super cheap prices - my huge plate of salmon and vegetables cost less than $3. 

We feel very excited to be returning to this city in just under a week from now!

A Letter to the First and Only President of the Republic of Kazakhstan

Richard writes:

Dear President Nazarbaev,

I write to you as a visitor to your great country, and thought you might find helpful some of my initial observations of Kazakhstan. So far we (I am travelling with my Australian girlfriend; Casey) have only visited Astana, but I am greatly looking forward to also visiting Almaty, Aralsk, Otrar and Turkestan. You have certainly built a fantastic country and democracy. The best democracies require strong leadership in my view, and your 23 year term as president has certainly delivered this. It must make you proud to be the only president this country has ever had, it certainly would me.

Observations of Kazakhstan's great capital - Astana

I must say you made a fantastic decision on deciding to relocate the capital to Astana from Almaty. What a fantastic city of architectural wonder. I have spent the last few years living in Australia. It too, has a modern, purpose built capital, it is called Canberra. Canberra however, is in my opinion pretty crap. I also think you are fully justified in allocating 8% of the country's national budget to build such a fantastic spectacle. It is hard to pick a favourite building in Astana, as there are so many marvellous constructions, but here are a few of our photos of the ones we enjoyed the most.

We also greatly enjoyed your President's Museum, housed in the former Presidential Palace. I would love to have a museum devoted to me, so I wandered around your museum with some envy. You really are a clever man, how did you get so many awards? I have a degree certificate (just one) and a 10m swimming badge, but nothing to compete with your collection of degrees, awards from world leaders and other gifts and trinkets you have received. If I was to make a suggestion as how to improve your museum, it would be nice to allow the taking of photographs, after all, wouldn't you like your achievements to be shared wider? 

Have you been to Atameken, the 200 metre long Kazakhstan map in Astana Park? If not I thoroughly recommend it. Just in case you are not sure where it is, just head to the base of the giant Kazakhstan flag, that memorialises the victims of the totalitarian regime. To have such an enormous map, with models of all of Kazakhstan's major landmarks is a brilliant idea and very educational. I learnt that Kazakhstan has a lot of power stations and mineral mines. I am sure there is more to learn, but that was the main theme I picked up.

Observations relating to visa registration

Don't get me wrong, I love a bit of needless bureaucracy. After all, without it unemployment would soar. Keep people employed, whatever the cost, regardless of whether their job is required, has always been a mantra of mine. Despite these thoughts, I do find the visa registration process a bit frustrating. I have a few questions regarding the process.

 1. First of all, why do I need to do it? I already have a visa and the nice immigration official admitted me into the country, so what does the next stage achieve?

2. Why does the Migration Police station have no signs in English? The whole point of the office is for persons' of foreign countries to visit, so maybe it might be a good idea to have one of the most spoken languages in the world on the signs. Just a thought.

3. Why is the form I have to sign as part of the process, that is written in Russian? The nice lady that assisted us acknowledged this by saying, "I know the form is in Russian, I know you don't speak Russian, I therefore know you don't know what you are signing, but it is the process".

I would appreciate it if some of these niggles I raise could be looked into, to assist future travellers.

Other than that I enjoyed the whole process immensely. So I am sure you appreciate my pleasure when I found out, that I have to repeat the whole process in Almaty, as Astana registrations only last for 10 ten days, whereas the rest of the country's registrations last 30. What joy. 

Observations of the Kazakh children and the standards of parenting

First I open with a question. What financial incentives do you offer the Kazakh people to procreate? There are children everywhere, and every other woman of child bearing age appears to have a bun in the oven. I love children as much as the next man, but if I can be so bold to make a criticism, Kazakh children don't seem the best behaved. Almost every child seems to think the only tool they have to get what they want, is to elicit a blood-curdling scream at the top of their lungs. It seems that Kazakh children are also prone to random acts of violence and general poor levels of discipline. I am no psychologist, but I don't actually think this is the children's fault, but maybe the parents are to blame. Maybe it would be a good idea to devote some of the considerable budget you are using to incentivise the creation of the little darlings to parenting lessons. I don't have children of my own, but here are few suggestions I have to improve things:

1. Do not give Coca-Cola to a toddler (who is still being breast-fed) at any time, let alone at 11pm at night on a train surrounded by other members of the public, to a child that is already acting hyperactively and screaming at the top of its lungs while running laps of the carriage (witnessed on a train from Astana to Almaty).

2. Do not allow a child to "play" next to his father that is performing maintenance to an electrical socket (witnessed in our hostel in Astana and resulted on the aforementioned father receiving a massive and painful electric shock to his arm).

3. When a child inflicts pain or causes obvious distress to a third party, encourage parents to both apologise for the child's actions and deliver some discipline (suggestion from witnessing a child in Astana violently head butt Casey in the thigh causing pain, with no resulting reaction from the parents).

Observations relating to the teaching of the natural world

Casey and I greatly enjoyed our visit to the Oceanarium in Astana. In Australia and the UK we call these Aquariums, do you know if there is a difference? It was great to see such a wide array of marine life, especially as Kazakhstan is so far away from the sea. I read that Kazakhstan is in fact the largest land locked country in the world. As well as the spectacular 70 metre ocean tunnel and other tanks we also enjoyed the educational signs around the oceanarium. Our favourite one related to sharks and definitely portrayed sharks in a different way to how they are portrayed at home, where they are taught as a creature of beauty that require respect. It is a good job that Kazakhstan is unlikely to ever have sharks living nearby, as this sign would scare everyone witless. I will rewrite the sign for you (copied verbatim) as its words certainly caused Casey and me some interest:

"SHARK IT IS SERIOUS.

IN THE WORLD OF OCEAN THERE ARE MORE THAN 2000 FISHES. ANIMALS, PROTOMORPHIC ORGANISMS FROM TINY MONODIFORM ONES TO HIGHLY DEVELOPED VERTEBRATES, WHICH ARE DANGEROUS TO HUMANS. THE MOST DANGEROUS INHABITANT IS A SHARK. THE SCIENTISTS IDENTIFY ABOUT 350  SPECIES. IT'S AN EXTREMELY VORACIOUS AND DANGEROUS, FIERCE AND INVULNERABLE CREATURE. IT ISN'T DIFFICULT FOR SOME SHARKS TO CUT A MAN IN HALF IMMEDIATELY, OUTRUN A MOTOR TORPEDO-BOAT AND EVEN WRECK A YACHT.

EVERY SHARK IS POTENTIALLY DANGEROUS TO HUMANS IF ITS SIZE IS MORE THAN ONE METRE AND THERE IS BLOOD IN THE WATER. THERE ARE TWO EXCEPTIONS. THEY ARE THE GIANT-SHARK AND A WHALE SHARK. THEY CAN GROW UP TO 18 METRES LONG AND WEIGH UP TO 10 TONS. THESE HARMLESS GIANTS ARE THE BIGGEST FISH ALL OVER THE WORLD.

THE BIG WHITE SHARK, TIGER SHARK, FOX SHARK, HAMMER-HEADED SHARK, POLAR SHARK, MACO AND BLUE SHARKS ARE CONSIDERED TO BE THE MOST DANGEROUS SPECIES. SHARK'S SENSE OF SMELL IS OF BIG IMPORTANCE TO LOOK FOR THE CATCH. THEY CAN SMELL A DROP OF BLOOD IN A MILLION  LITERS OF WATER. HAVING COME CLOSER TO THE SMELL SOURCE THE PREDATOR SWIMS AROUND UNTIL IT WILL SEE THE CATCH.

IN THE CHRONICLES OF SHIPWRECKS YOU CAN FIND A LOT OF DESCRIPTIONS OF SHARK'S SHOAL ATTACKS ON THE OVERBOARD PEOPLE. ONE OF THE MOST TERRIBLE EVENTS HAPPENED IN AUGUST, 1960 NEAR THE COAST OF MOZAMBIQUE. IN THE MOUTH OF THE KOMATI RIVER ONE SMALL PASSENGER SHIP WAS WRECKED. PEOPLE SWIMMING TO THE COAST WERE ATTACKED BY THE SHOAL OF SHARKS. MALICIOUS PREDATORS TORE TO PIECES 46 PEOPLE DURING SEVERAL MINUTES. ONLY THREE PEOPLE SURVIVED.

WHAT KIND OF MEANS CAN BE USED TO WITHSTAND THE SHARKS? THEY FOUND OUT THAT VORACIOUS PREDATORS LOSE THEIR APPETITE IF THERE ARE MALEINIC ACID, COPPER SULFATE, ACETOUS COPPER AND AMMONIUM IN THE WATER. THE MOST COMMONLY USED WEAPON AGAINST SHARK IS A SPEAR WITH A CARTRIDGE WITH A BULLET OF 12 CALIBERS ON ITS END. YOU SHOULD AIM SPECIFICALLY AT A SHARKS HEAD. YOU JUST PULL THE TRIGGER AND THE BIG HOLE WILL APPEAR. THIS WOUND IS FATAL FOR THE PREDATOR.

AT PRESENT DAYS, A DART  IS CONSIDERED TO BE THE BEST ARM AGAINST SHARKS. IT LOOKS LIKE A SPEAR, CHARGED WITH A CARTRIDGE WITH CARBONIC GAS. WHEN IT GETS INTO SHARK'S BODY - THE CARTRIDGE AND COMPRESSED GAS STARTS PUFFING UP THE BODY. THEN THE SHARK IS THROWN OUT ON THE WATER SURFACE WHERE IT SWIMS BLANKLY."

I hope you have enjoyed my letter, and can find the time to address my questions and thoughts. Don't have nightmares about the sharks and happy governing.

Yours Sincerely,

Richard

Memo: Be Prepared To Queue

Casey writes:

In just one blog it is impossible to do justice to the crazy and manic city that is Moscow. The four day continuous assault on our senses meant that we had little time to sit and rest, and even less time to sleep.

Moscow is brilliant. It's crowded, everybody always has somewhere to be, and everywhere you look you are bombarded by modern capitalist icons in a city that has still very much retained its Soviet strings.

Keen to avoid the stress and anxiety that is associated with arriving in a new city, our first step upon arrival was to join the Moscow Free Tour in order to help orient ourselves around the main sites. It happened to be 'Russia Day', a popular public holiday, so there were celebrations all over the city and many tourist attractions were closed. There were thirty tourists on our tour from all over the world, and it was a relief to be able to talk to other native English speakers, something we hadn't been able to do for nearly a month. The tour was lead by a friendly and enthusiastic young Russian girl named Elena, and we saw many of the main sites (from the outside), including Red Square, GUM (State Department Store), St Basil's Cathedral, the changing of the guard at the tomb of the unknown soldier, the Old English Court, Romanov Chambers, the remains of the old walls of Kitai Gorod, and the Church of All Saints that was used during the Soviet times as a KGB killing chamber. Elena had some fascinating stories and insights into life in communist Russia, courtesy of her parents, as well as her own well-researched knowledge and liberal opinions, which she shared freely, mixed with subtle humour:

"In Russia we have always had freedom of speech. Just not always freedom after speech."

"An American and a Russian were arguing in a bar about who had more civil liberties: the Americans under Barack Obama or the Russians under Vladimir Putin. The American said, 'In America, I can go to Washington DC, I can approach the White House, and I can say that I hate Barack Obama, and nothing bad will happen to me'. The Russia exclaimed, 'it is the same in Russia; I can go to Moscow, I can approach the Kremlin, and I can say that I hate Barack Obama, and nothing bad will happen to me either.'"

Moscow Free Tour

After our free tour, we headed to the World Heritage Listed Novodevichy Convent and Cemetery. It was built in 1524 to commemorate the taking of Smolensk from Lithuania, but is more well known as the place that Peter the Great imprisoned his half-sister. The grounds of the convent are blissfully peaceful, and the highlight is the main Smolensk Cathedral, with internal walls and ceiling covered in 16th century frescoes. As we were searching for the cemetery, we watched the ominous rain clouds approaching. We were reassured however, because Elena had told us with conviction that it had never ever rained on Russia Day, because each year the military sends helicopters into the sky to spray chemicals that deter the rain. Well, perhaps the military missed this year's memo, because minutes later the rain started and our umbrellas were out in a flash. We arrived at the cemetery (which is apparently only for the most prestigious Russian deceased) with fifteen minutes until closing time, so we only managed to locate Boris Yeltin's grave among the thousands that were there. We were disappointed not to find Chekhov, Gogol, Eisenstein or Khrushchev; however, we were also keen to make it back to the Metro to escape the rain.

Novodevichy Convent

As we had found Elena's morning tour so insightful, we decided to join her evening Communist Moscow Tour. After a day of walking many kilometres resulting in sore feet, we were a little apprehensive of another two hour walk, but the intrigue of the tour took the better of us. We saw some fascinating places, including the KGB headquarters, the soviet court where 40,000 death sentences were handed out in only a few years, the Bolshoi Theatre (now noted for its ballet but also previously the location of the signing of the Soviet constitution in the early 1920s), and the office where Lenin worked. We also walked down the most expensive street in Moscow, visited the most beautiful supermarket in all of Russia and paused briefly in Pushkin square to admire the famous statue and the second largest Macdonalds in the world. We were amazed by the civil engineering feat that took place in Tverskaya Ul: At some stage during his reign, Stalin decided that this street needed to be made wider. Miraculously, and without the use of modern technology, the buildings along the street (masterpieces in themselves), were raised and placed on pulley systems which moved them anywhere from 12-50 metres backwards (often with the occupants still inside). Their foundations remained strong and the street today looks like it was designed that way. Amazing! 

The most beautiful supermarket in Russia

We opted to return to our hotel after the tour rather than brave the chaos of the Russia Day celebrations. Red Square looked more like a nightclub and we could hear the fireworks from our hostel as we watched the celebrations on television.

On our second day in Moscow, we arrived early at St Basil's Cathedral, expecting to encounter similar queues to those we experienced in St Petersburg. Instead, we walked straight in, and were able to enjoy the beautiful interior of the cathedral at our leisure. Rather than being one large and open space like other churches in Russia, the cathedral consisted of ten small chapels, each as beautiful as the previous. The echoes of the acapella quartet who were singing on the second floor resonated through every room and it was spine chilling.

St Basil's Cathedral

The rain started and didn't stop for the rest of the day. Wet and cold, we lined up for an hour for entry into the Kremlin. There were winding queues everywhere, no signs, and pandemonium among a sea of hundreds of confused tourists (Russian and foreign alike). We knew that tickets to the Kremlin Armoury only went on sale 45 minutes before each tour time slot, and so we tried to time our joining of the queue to coincide with this. The queue moved more slowly than we anticipated, and when we arrived at the front an hour later, with 30 minutes until the next tour time, we were told very abruptly that 'nyet' there were no Armoury tickets left. Trying to ask how on earth we were supposed to get tickets, given that joining the queue much earlier would have meant getting to the front with more than 45 minutes to spare and hence too early to buy tickets, the ticket seller simply bashed a sign that said '45' and we assumed that the only way to secure tickets was to fluke arriving at the ticket window exactly as the time clicked over the 45 minute mark. We were waved away and it was made clear we were wasting yet another rude Russian's precious time. We found it preposterous that such a small number of tickets were available and that the only way to secure them was to predict the speed of the queue with perfection. And even more frustrating, the only way to find any of this out was to queue for an hour in the first place. We walked away, amid a crowd of similarly bewildered tourists, and although we failed to get Armoury tickets, we were still permitted entry into the main Kremlin grounds (and I felt absolutely no guilt at all in presenting Richard's Melbourne University staff card for 'student' discount entry). The grounds were underwhelming. The office buildings were guarded by police, and the moment someone stepped off the narrow path (even to let someone get past), whistles start blowing from every direction. We visited some of the churches in the grounds, beautiful in their own rights but soured by the fact that despite huge grand doorways at the front of each one, hundreds of tourists were being forced to cram single-file through side doors, meaning that entry and exit consisted of pushing, shoving and frustration all around. The three cathedrals we saw were the Assumption Cathedral, Annunciation Cathedral and Archangel Cathedral which is the resting place of Ivan the Terrible. All were undoubtedly more crowded than normal due to the heavy rain outside. We made a hasty and grumpy exit and headed back to the hostel to escape the atrocious weather.

The Kremlin

We put our less than successful afternoon behind us, as the night I'd waited months for had finally arrived... we were on our way to see the ballet performance 'Lady of the Camelias' at the Bolshoi Theatre. Thanks to my nan's generosity, we had secured tickets to one of the most prestigious ballet theatres in the world. Both the interior and exterior of the theatre were exquisite. The architecture was amazing and the amount of gold dripping from every corner and every balcony was dazzling. Given that we've both been living out of backpacks for nearly four months, we were impressed with our efforts to wear appropriate attire for this night. Richard in a nice shirt and me in a dress and stockings, we arrived to find that sitting next to us, in front of us and behind us... actually everywhere.... were women whose dresses had more gold sparkles and diamontes than the theatre itself, whose high heels came up to my hip, and who had spent more hours sitting at the hairdressers, beauty parlour and botox clinic than I've spent sitting on trains in Russia. This made the experience of people-spotting almost as entertaining as the ballet itself. The dancing was exceptionally high quality and the sets and costumes were exquisite. 

The Bolshoi Theatre

With our sights on the Lenin Mausoleum, we began our third day in Moscow with the aim of adding our fourth dead communist to our list. After only twenty minutes of queueing, and none of the hype of our previous experiences with Mao or the Kimmies, we were ushered into the mausoleum. I'm not sure how much the blind man in front of us saw, apart from constantly tripping up the steps while being pulled along by his friend, but we saw a peaceful albeit waxy figure of a sleeping Lenin, before being herded out the other side. We were then able to walk along the Kremlin wall to view the necropolis where Stalin is buried.

Then, knowing we were fools, after yesterday's ticket palava at the Kremlin, we lined up again in an attempt to purchase Armoury tickets. As the queue moved forward inch by inch, we watched the clock like hawks... firstly we were sure we would reach the window too early, then we were convinced the line was moving too slowly and we'd miss out once again. Through nothing short of a miracle, we stepped up to the ticket booth at precisely the 45 minute mark for the next tour. Low and behold, we managed to buy two tickets (which by the way were very expensive), and then we ran to the Armoury like we'd just won golden tickets to the Willy Wonka factory. We then had to join two more separate queues, and despite our 'tour' time being 2:30pm, it was 3:00pm by the time we were allowed in (a full two hours after we'd joined the first queue). We had many tourists coming up to us and pleading to know how we managed to get hold of the tickets. We explained the ridiculous process and watched sympathetically as each time they walked dejectedly away.  

The Armoury was fantastic. Definitely worth the cost of the tickets, but I am still deciding if it was worth the stress and debacle of the queueing process. We saw millions upon millions of dollars worth of jewels and diamonds, encrusted upon all sorts of relics and treasures acquired by the Russian State and Church over hundreds of years, from jewellery and ornaments to Peter the Great's throne and Catherine II's coronation dress. Unfortunately photography was not permitted.

Despite being in pain from yet another day of kilometres of walking, we then headed to Gorky Park and the Art Muzeon Sculpture Park. Both were brilliant, although no remedy for sore feet - they were both set on massive grounds along the Moscow River. The Sculpture Park housed many old soviet statues that used to grace the city's streets, but are now only worthy of tourists' eyes in a non-prominent area of the outer city. Gorky Park is obviously the place to be seen in Russia. Hundreds of Russians were enjoying the weekend twilight, with an abundance of activities on offer: picnics, rollerblading, cycling, skateboarding, table tennis, dancing, paddleboats, performances and restaurants. I hired rollerblades for an hour, a little nervous because I couldn't say 'safety gear' in Russian, but fortunately I stayed upright.

Gorky Park

Sculpture Park

Richard was counting down the hours until the 2:00am kick off of the England v Italy World Cup game. After watching Australia concede their first two goals the previous night at the hostel, before going to bed in frustration, we headed to a local sports bar to watch the England game on the big screen. The bar was full of English and Italian football supporters, and had a good atmosphere, but that unfortunately didn't help England's plight and we walked home at 4:00am in silence.

We awarded ourselves a sleep-in on our final day in Moscow. This was a wise decision, as we listened to the thunder and rain outside. When we finally checked out of the hostel at midday, it was overcast but not raining. We took a train to just outside of Moscow, to the World Heritage Listed Church of the Ascension. Plain as far as Russian church standards go, with no mosaics or frescoes, and just a coat of plain white paint, the excitement came as we arrived at the church grounds and had lunch in a little cafe. An apocalyptic thunderstorm hit with a vengeance, the heavens opened and we were met with horizontal rain and monstrous gusts of wind. We ran as fast as we could, and took shelter in the Church of the Ascension (the irony is not lost on me, trust me). After admiring the white paint (and little else), we wondered how else we could entertain ourselves until the weather eased. After a long time, we realised the rain wasn't planning on stopping any time soon, so we braced ourselves and started the long walk back to the train station, praying our umbrellas didn't become lightning conductors.

Church of the Ascension

Our final stop was the Gulag Museum, free on the third Sunday of each month (bonus!); it was a sobering account of life in Russian gulags under Stalin's reign.

We are now on a train bound for Kazakhstan and are taking the time to reflect on our month in Russia, a country famed for its difficulty for tourists. Well, we survived, and have had an amazing time, and we are sad to say goodbye to the beautiful sites we have seen. We are not however, shattered to say goodbye to the rudeness, abruptness and coldness of many of the people we have encountered over the past thirty days. Of course, there have also been many wonderful people, who have been so kind and generous, and it is because of these people and their beautiful country that we will leave with fond memories forever. 

Vodka shots to farewell Russia

The Friendliest City in Russia

Richard writes:

Murmansk; situated several hundred kilometres north of the Arctic Circle, to our surprise was by far the friendliest place we have visited so far in Russia. And with only Moscow remaining, a city famed for its people's coldness, it is unlikely Murmansk will have the "friendly" accolade stolen from it. It dawned on us that this was the furthest north we both had ever been, and that we wouldn't be going any further north on this trip. The achievement of getting here from Melbourne, in just over three months, without flying, made us both feel a little smug and content, that all of our plans had come to fruition so far.

Initial impressions of the city from the train were of a Soviet concrete jungle enveloped by a low grey sky. As we exited the train the air was chilly and moist and we were immediately approached by a baby faced police officer asking for our passports. A phone call later, a plain clothes officer joined him and they scrutinised and photographed every document we had. After satisfying themselves all was in order, they wished us luck in our travels in Murmansk with a smile. These smiles proved to be the first of many in what is a fairly bleak city; a stone's throw from the borders with Finland and Norway, and the Arctic Ocean.

We had nearly three days to occupy ourselves in Murmansk and a fairly short list of things to do. The list consisted of:

1. A war memorial

2. A tour of a nuclear ice breaker

3. An oceanarium

4. The world's most northerly Mcdonald's.

Luckily, we had booked a full day tour to the Kola Peninsula countryside, to see the beautiful arctic scenery, reindeer and Siberian huskies. This day was a highlight of our trip "up north". Our guide was Alexei. He was a thoroughly interesting guy, who was from the area, but had also lived in Belfast and Finland. He had an almost sarcastic English sense of humour and was a really nice guy. He had set up a camp with an oxymoron for a title, "the wilderness centre" just outside the town of Lovozero. Our day hadn't started well, our transport, a Toyota Landcruiser, had been filled with "bad diesel" and consequently at any hint of an incline its maximum speed topped out at 20 km/h. Fortunately the 160 km journey from Murmansk was not all up hill and we eventually arrived at the wilderness centre.

On arrival, Alexei immediately strapped on a belt of knives before exiting the car. We didn't ask any questions, but assumed this was in case of a bear attack. On the drive from Murmansk he had informed us that he had shot a 300 kg brown bear at the centre recently as it was threatening his reindeer. We nervously left the safe confines of the car and walked to feed the reindeer. En route we met Alexei's pet dog Ita and his cat. Ita was an Italian breed that ran with a gallop reminiscent of a polar bear and had been bought with the specific purpose of scaring the bears off. She wagged her tail as we approached, but barked ferociously and "smiled" by exposing her left canine. The cat however, lacked any intimidatory instincts and begged a stroke and followed us everywhere including into the reindeer enclosure, only to depart when chased out by an antlered friend.The reindeer were ridiculously cute, with their furry antlers and lumbering walk. Their huge eyes longed for the food in the bag Alexei had brought, but they were extremely gentle as they ate from our hands and seemed to enjoy a stroke. We stood for ages admiring them, including a baby (I don't know what baby reindeer are called!). As soon as the food in the bag was depleted, they quickly lost interest and lumbered on within the huge inclosure, that they apparently frequently escape from, with Alexei having to go searching for them to bring them back.

Next stop were the huskies. Alexei had already informed us that they were very excitable and craved human contact. He also said they made terrible guard dogs, with the only danger they posed to an intruder was a particularly aggressive lick. Alexei's prediction of their excitement proved correct. The closer we got to their enclosure, the 21 huskies got increasingly louder in their barks and howls. Three were selected to walk with us. In winter these huskies are used for dog sledding and we saw their pace and power on the walk. As soon as released they charged everywhere, sprinting back and forth. It was almost impossible to photograph them, as every attempt ended in a blurred mass of dog within an arctic backdrop. After a period they calmed down and we were able to interact with them and give them a good stroke. For such fearsome looking creatures, they are completely loveable and adorable. Our interaction with the animals had been fantastic and it had been an amazing day.

Our other main highlight was the visit to the nuclear ice breaker; "Lenina". We queued up and paid our 150 Roubles (about $5) and began our hour long tour of the ship. We hadn't sought clarification, but as expected the whole tour was in Russian. We listened intently as our guide Dmitry gave extensive explanations regarding all aspects of the operations of a nuclear ice breaker. At least that is what we assumed he was talking about, as we didn't understand a bloody word. Half way through the tour, we realised, that to be exposed as not understanding would be even more embarrassing, so we listened even harder, even adding the appreciative nod and raised eyebrows when we sensed something particularly impressive was being described. Casey did her best to ruin the whole charade, by descending into fits of giggles, but we held firm, and as far as we were concerned nobody suspected a thing, until as the tour finished Dmitry casually asked if anyone spoke English. We raised our hands (thinking everyone would assume we were bilingual), and he immediately began to give a synopsis of the whole tour in English. We were grateful for the explanation, but embarrassed that we had been outed. We learnt that Murmansk was home to nine nuclear ice breakers (four had been decommissioned) and Russia was the only country in the world to have ice breakers powered by nuclear fuel. A sister ship to the Lenina, had recently transported the Olympic flame to the North Pole in record time for the trip; 91 hours. Dmitry was fantastic and his English was exquisite. A genuinely warm hearted guy, who showed great interest in our trip and was eager to explain everything we wanted to know regarding the ship and Murmansk in general.

It would have been rude not to have visited the world's most northerly McDonald's. We didn't spend long there and only consumed a post mix diet coke, but at least we can say we have been there! Whilst there, we were approached by two separate individuals who heard us speaking English. It seems Murmansk doesn't get many foreign tourists and they were keen to practise some English and welcome us to their city. Another example of the fantastic warmth displayed by the city's people.

The other most memorable memory from the city is the fact, that in June it doesn't get dark. Despite wanting to, we didn't manage to pull an all-nighter, but at 12:30 am it was as light as it had been all day, and when I awoke at 2:30 am the light hadn't dimmed at all.

On our final day we walked the considerable distance to the oceanarium to find out that Tuesday was a rest day for the seals. We consoled ourselves with a ride on the lake on a pedalo and ate some pizza, before walking to the huge city war memorial. We had loved every minute of our time in the Arctic Circle, but were ready to travel southward, to continue our adventure in our next destination; Moscow!

A Lesson In Russian History

Casey writes:

St Petersburg is quite simply, an exquisite city. Stunning architecture abounds on every street and at every turn of the head there is something new (or more accurately, old) with which to reward the eyes.

We quickly realised that the two and a half days we had dedicated to St Petersburg would nowhere near be enough. We adopted a frenetic pace and tried to cram in as much as possible, while still taking time to appreciate the beauty around us.

Arriving at our hostel at lunchtime, we endured cold showers (the only option available to us after spending five nights on trains), admired the river view from our room's window, and then made a beeline for the State Hermitage Museum. With it's unrivalled and seemingly infinite art collections, we easily lost four hours of time: wandering through the over three hundred rooms of the Winter Palace, marvelling at the Egyptian, Greek and Roman sculptures, and ticking off paintings by Rembrandt, Caravaggio, Picasso, Da Vinci, Ceyzanne, Monet and Renoir, just to name a few.

The State Hermitage Museum

Da Vinci's 'Madonna and Child'

Rembrandt's 'The Prodigal Son'

The Church on Spilled Blood was amazing. Built upon the spot of Alexander II's assassination, and partly modelled on Moscow's St Basil's Cathedral, its colours were dazzling both inside and out, and the life-sized mosaics filled every possible nook and cranny. 

We spent much of our time at Palace Square (scene of the 1905 Bloody Sunday massacre), adjacent to the Hermitage Museum. This massive square proved to be the hub of tourist activity, and we found ourselves repeatedly walking through it, sitting and eating kiosk food on its periphery, admiring its Alexander Column (commemorating Alexander I's victory over Napoleon), and riding laps on segways around its impressive space.

St Petersburg is sometimes referred to as 'the Venice of the North'. With it's many canals and river systems, it is often difficult to navigate beyond the city centre. A boat cruise took us to places we could never have found on foot, including the city's northern industrial zone and the Bay of Finland. The city is also surprisingly poorly serviced by public transport. Metro train stations are few and far between, and the easiest way to get around is by walking. On average we walked 10-15 kilometres per day in 30 degree temperatures and high humidity (who ever knew that it got hot in Russia!), and our legs and feet were definitely feeling the pain.

We visited the Kunstkamera, which I can undoubtedly say is the most bizarre museum I've ever seen. Amongst other things, it housed Peter the Great's private collection of two-headed foetuses, conjoined twins, deformed body parts, and other monstrosities. Despite descriptions in English, I left still being unable to fathom why somebody would ever even consider collecting such ghoulish human anatomy.

Peter and Paul Fortress was a lovely surprise. Not knowing much about the place, other than the fact that it was planned by Peter the Great as a defence against the Swedes in 1703, we arrived to find the fortress was located on a pretty island, with many interesting buildings including a prison and commandant's house. The highlight however, was the SS Peter and Paul Cathedral, where, previously unbeknown to us, the bodies of the assassinated Romanov family are buried, as well as the bodies of Peter the Great and Catherine I.

I have always been intrigued by Russian history, including the story of the Romanov family's downfall and the ensuing Russian Revolution. Arriving in St Petersburg, I was keen to learn more about one particularly fascinating element: Grigory Rasputin. However, this proved much trickier than first thought. Years ago I had heard the rumour that Rasputin's dismembered penis was on display in a quiet museum in St Petersburg. Despite this no doubt being a hoax, we arrived at the location of the museum only to be told that 'the museum is stopped working'. Dejected, we walked away, but still feeling optimistic with two more potential Rasputin experiences ahead of us. Next, we tried to book a Rasputin walking tour of the city, but due to time and cost restraints we were unable to do so and hence failed again in our endeavour to learn more about this crazy creepy man. Our final hope was the Rasputin tour at the Yusopov Palace, which takes people through the underground secret passages and rooms where Rasputin was poisoned and shot by Felix Yusopov (prior to him finalising the murder by throwing Rasputin's body into the river). We were aware that only twenty tickets were allocated per day, and that the tour was in Russian with no English translation. Determined not to miss out, we queued at the ticket box half an hour before opening time and were sixth in line. Score! However, When we tried to book our tickets we were arrogantly and rudely told we couldn't do the tour because we were not Russian. We explained that we didn't mind listening in Russian and that were happy to just tag along to see the rooms and read the displays. We were again told no, this time with the excuse that the tickets had suddenly sold out. We knew this was not the case, and despite our protests, the nasty woman in the ticket office shooed us away and then continued to sell tickets to the Russian tourists behind us. With neither Richard or I willing to put up with any form of racism or prejudice, we entered the Palace and sought out an English speaking staff member. We demanded an explanation, and before we knew it we were being escorted back to the ticket office by one very proactive worker to purchase our tickets from a now VERY angry ticket seller (who obviously despised losing face in front of two westerners), and then, believe it or not, we were given a private tour of the chambers on our own, by a super-friendly, super-accommodating museum curator. The exhibit was fantastic, and it was eery to stand in the very location of such a significant event in Russian history. We then visited the many rooms of the palace itself, all of which were extravagantly decorated and restored.

Walking the streets of St Petersburg, we saw a sign advertising a performance of Swan Lake at one of the theatres affiliated with the Hermitage Museum (Aurora Palace). Amazingly, we were still able to purchase tickets at short notice, and while the performance was nowhere near the standard (nor the cost) of the Bolshoi Theatre in Moscow, it was thrilling to watch such a famous ballet being performed in such a beautiful city. 

Now, in the past, I've been to two of Melbourne's White Night festivals. And they've been great. But seriously, St Petersburg knows how to pull off a real White Night. With the sky still a glorious daylight blue well past midnight, and with dawn breaking again at around 3:00am, the streets of the city seem to be an endless night time party. This played havoc with our body clocks, and we found that we were still awake well into the early hours of each morning. It did have its advantages, with us feeling perfectly safe walking the city streets beyond midnight, and with so many people around, the twenty minute walk to our hostel from the city centre was quite entertaining. 

St Petersburg well and truly lived up to our every expectation, and perhaps one day we will be able to visit this majestic city once again. But for now we bid it farewell as we board yet another overnight train, this time for a complete change of scenery: the city of Murmansk above the arctic circle.