Life Lesson #39 - Taking the Long Way Home

Today I learned never to fly overnight and expect to go to work the next day.

It seemed like a flawless plan, except for the part where I had to set my alarm for 2:45am. Ironically, with the four hour time difference, this was actually 10:45pm London time. Yep. I was up and moving before most of my friends and colleagues went to bed the night before!

The only part I was worried about was getting through immigration. I was warned in advance to keep my head down and walk quickly. The scary people must have been home sick today, because we didn't have a sniff of a problem.

We took off about half an hour late because the plane had been covered in snow and ice overnight, so they had to wash it off with antifreeze.

We were in Munich for two hours, then boarded on time for our flight to London. We sat on the plane for over an hour before takeoff, without any explanation.

Our scheduled landing time came and went, then the time we should have landed based on when we took off came and went... we had no idea why we weren't at Heathrow yet.

Then the pilot came on and said "bad news, folks. We're being diverted to Stansted!" The one time I get to fly out of a decent airport, and I get rerouted to the worst one. Wicked.

When we landed, the pilot came over the intercom and said "I have zero information, and there's nobody here to help us". An hour and a half later, he still had zero information.

When we were finally able to get off the plane, Paul noticed that they didn't appear to be refueling or offloading any luggage.

After an hour of waiting for our bags (the one time we fly with bags!) with the other 150 passengers, we were getting restless.

Finally a guy appears and says "we'll have your bags out soon".

We hear this many, many times over the next four hours while we're stuck between passport control and customs with one snack machine, no water until 3pm, and 150 other grouchy displaced travellers, most of whom had missed connecting flights all over the world.

There was nobody from the airline present, nobody from Stansted gave a toss because we weren't one of their flights, and the phone helplines didn't know a thing about it.

I started to feel like Tom Hanks in The Terminal.

By the time we actually got our bags I was completely wired. I still wanted to go to work just so my day wouldn't be a complete waste of time.

So I did. I arrived at 4:30pm, just 18 hours after I left my hostel in St Petersburg. I could almost have got to work in Auckland in that time!

We're trying to get compensation for lost wages and displacement from Lufthansa... emphasis on trying. Let's just say I won't be travelling with them again anytime soon!

Oh well, I guess it could have been worse...

St Petersburg

I wasn't sure what to expect from the Russian overnight train between Moscow and St Petersburg. What I definitely didn't expect was a luxurious private cabin! Score!

Arriving in St Petersburg after the best night's sleep I've ever had on a train, boat or plane.

The walk to our hostel gave us an incredible view of St Petersburg. I was surprised at how different the newer port city was from Moscow. It's a beautiful city, and reminded me of other Eastern European destinations like Prague.

As I looked around me and observed the distinct lack of tourists, I found myself feeling grateful for the complicated visa restrictions that see ordinary holidaymakers putting Russia in the too hard basket.

Just casually passed this on our stroll to the hostel...

We didn't think we'd manage to squeeze St Petersburg into our fleeting Russia trip. The length of our trip was controlled by Paul's boss, who wasn't very flexible on Christmas leave. But we couldn't bear to go to Russia without visiting The Hermitage, the largest art gallery in the world, so we decided the visit was worth it even for a single day.

The Hermitage was closed.

This time, it was entirely our own fault... it's closed every Monday of the year and we didn't check!

Luckily, the State Russian Museum was open. It was so enormous, and so fascinating, that I can barely comprehend the size of The Hermitage!

And it's right next to the Church of Our Saviour on Spilled Blood.

My favourite story about the Church on Spilled Blood is that during the Soviet era, Stalin turned it into... a potato warehouse!

By the time we left the museum, it was already dark. This is a running theme for us!

We found a little Russian restaurant to enjoy our last night in this fascinating country, and stayed there for hours before slipping back to our hostel for an early night before an early rise.

Last Day in Moscow: Ice and Snow

We opened our windows this morning to a glorious sight:

We packed up and checked out quickly, eager to see how the night of snowfall had altered the landscape.

The Kremlin in Izmailovo, next to our hotel.

We headed back into the centre of town to see Lenin's memorial (which has his frozen body), as it had been closed on the other days of our visit.

The Kremlin looked like something from Narnia.

Unfortunately, Lenin's memorial was still closed on New Year's Day (contrary to online reports).

But it was worth coming in to see the white blanket over now familiar landmarks.

I think I'm a wee bit obsessed with St Basil's Cathedral.

After saying goodbye to Red Square, we trekked to the train station to pick up our overnight train tickets and drop off our luggage. We got lost, of course, but I won't bore you with the details!

By the time we finally made it to the Pushkin Museum it was early afternoon. For once, we managed to visit something that was actually open! Although they had a strange entrance system that involved only letting in about 10 people every 15 minutes... so the queue was over two hours long. And it wasn't half cold outside! It was deserted inside. I felt sorry for those still waiting.

Thankfully after the long wait, the museum was impressive. They had a breathtaking Caravaggio exhibition on.

The Christ Savior Orthodox Cathedral was glorious across the road as we waited to enter the Pushkin.

It had been dark for a long time by the time we left the gallery. We headed straight to Gorky Park; the Muscovite equivalent of a Winter Wonderland.

An enormous field of rather sad looking snowmen greeted us.

Making up for the missed childhood photo op.

Unfortunately, the incredible looking ice skating arena was closed for the day. We were disappointed, but not as much as the hordes of Russian families with ice skates. I can't figure out why so many attractions in Moscow publicise old opening hours, or don't put holiday season closures on their website. It does get a little frustrating!

The ice we'd hoped to skate on...

Ah well. Nothing like a mulled wine in a cute little pop-up café to make up for it.

Our train left Moscow just before midnight, bound for St Petersburg. I love sleeping on trains, knowing I'll be hurtling across the countryside while I sleep.

New Year, Red Square

There was a point when I was genuinely concerned that we wouldn't make it in.

The crowd was thick and pushy. There were more Russian military than I ever thought I'd see. They were standing with linked arms blocking every entrance to Red Square. Three rows of them, and a dozen metal detectors stood between me and the whole reason I came here.

At about 11:56pm, the guards finally parted. I felt like I was leading a revolution as we surged into the already overflowing square. We became caught in the human equivalent of a rip, and it pulled us right into the centre of Red Square. I found myself wondering if anyone had been trampled. It didn't stop pushing us forward until we were packed in so tightly that, after I picked up the camera, I couldn't return my arms to my side until after the display had finished.

The Kremlin clock tower struck midnight.

And then suddenly...

  

 
The fireworks were magnificent. The mist in the sky built up a haze behind that reflected every exploding colour.

The moment they were over, the crowd surged in the other direction.

Those of us in the middle were cordoned off by another row of army men with linked arms, and their grim supervisors behind them glaring at us. After several minutes the people all around us starting pushing into the arms of the men in uniform, surging until they lost their grip and we broke through, escaping into the crowd. I didn't look behind me. Someone told me you shouldn't make eye contact.

The nearest metro station was, predictably, closed due to overcrowding. We found ourselves wandering in any direction, hoping we'd stumble across another. We were just excited to have the luxury of wandering around Moscow just after midnight on New Year's Day!

There were crowds everywhere, light displays, live music. And then snow.

It started to fall heavily less than ten minutes after midnight. If we'd made it on to the metro right away we'd have missed it!

A lot hasn't gone to plan on this trip to Russia. But, as I open my mouth and allow snow crystals to melt on my tongue, I know that this night made it all worthwhile.

Day Two in Moscow: Serendipity

Our second day in Russia was all about serendipity. After dismally failing to see ice sculptures the night before, I had googled my little heart out and learned about the annual Vyugovey Ice Sculpture Festival, which had apparently opened only two days earlier.

Again, we didn't get ice sculptures. It turns out that not only is the All-Russian Exhibition Center absolutely enormous (not so much an exhibition center as a suburb), but it is most definitely not hosting a Vyugovey ice sculpture festival (thanks to this website for putting me wrong!) So, instead of just getting a long walk and some muddy boots to show for it, I got a long walk through a bizarre communist version of a business park! Which was actually pretty cool.

The first thing we discovered was the Monument to the Conquerors of Space, which is was made out of titanium in 1964 to celebrate Soviet achievements in space exploration.

As we walk into the park we're surrounded by buildings like this one. It's creatively named "central pavillion". Inside are some tacky market stalls and an aquarium with sharks. I kid you not. Stalin would turn in his grave!

The Central Pavillion.

The Space Pavillion.

The 'Friendship of Nations' fountain; glorifying the workers.

Though bummed we'd missed ice sculptures for a second time, we felt lucky that we'd had the chance to explore such an unusual, empty, space that could only exist in a Soviet country.

One thing that takes a bit of getting used to in Moscow is the metro system.

Not only do they have escalators so long you could finish a novel...

...and bronze statues and chandeliers everywhere...



...but the metro map is in Russian. Now this is logical of course, except there's nowhere to pick up a copy except the hotel. And the hotel gives you a copy in English.

So, on our map, our stop is called Izmailovsky Park.

On the actual map, it's called Измайловский парк.

Every other station's name is similarly warped between our map and the actual system.

Again, this would be doable, except there's nowhere down inside the metro with a complete map, just a list of stations.

We ended up getting on in the wrong direction, walking in massive loops, or standing in confusion while trains whizzed past just about every time we disappeared down there!

Our last stop of the day was the Tretyakov State Gallery.

It was closed.

I'm getting used to that!

Life Lesson #38 - Ice, Ice Baby

Ice sculptures. That's how I ended up in this park in the middle of nowhere in Moscow. Ice sculptures. 

My best friend came here ten years ago and raved. There were photos. Good photos. I was jealous. Now I'm here to see them for myself, and there's nothing.

Or at least, it doesn't look like there's anything.

We've been walking for an hour since we got off the metro, and finally reached Krasnaya Presnya Park, home of the Gallery of Russian Ice Sculpture, aka an ice amusement park!

Except all we can see is two temporary looking buildings. One is a massive deserted building, fenced all round with an ominous looking warning sign. It looks like a great setting for a nuclear horror movie. The second building is on the other side of the park and looks like a bouncy castle dome. Neither of them looks much like a gallery of Russian Ice Sculpture.

So we walk into the park.

Whoever designed this park has sliced it into long strips by placing a hairpin shaped body of water running the entire length, with a tiny island at the other end from us.

We walk all the way along and get hopeful: there's a truck unloading fridge-sized blocks of ice.

Then we spot this on the tiny island:

Success! Sort of. This photo was taken with a very zoomed in lens. We can't actually tell what the tiny sculpture is. The ice block carrying truck men won't let us on to the island.

So I become convinced that this isn't actually the Gallery of Russian Ice Sculpture. "This is just the foyer of sorts", I say. I'm convinced of this because the website says they're open year round.

I decide we should walk right back along the other side, certain that we'll locate the ice sculptures.

We walk all the way along the river's edge and then discover that we've locked ourselves in. The only way to get to where we want to be is to either cross the river, or walk back.

The river looks sort of frozen. ish.

There's a spot where we can cross without having to put our whole weight on the ice. Just one foot on the ice, the other on mud and rocks. There's a hurricane fence to hold on to on the way down, and weedy looking roots as we cross the water.

About halfway across, I go through the ice. And shriek like Fay Wray.

Thankfully, the sludge beneath the ice is only ankle deep, so though my leather boot looks like it's been up close and personal with elephant poo, I don't tumble in completely.

But somehow my weedy looking root has snapped. Paul's on the other side already and laughing at me.

I make it across.

That's when we realise that we've miscalculated, and rather than being on the other side of the river, we're just on another island-y bit in the middle. We have three choices: go all the way back; cross another, much deeper looking river; or scale a large hurricane fence with barbed wire at the top and walk around.

We scale the fence.

A moment later I see a familiar looking sign and realise where we are.

We're inside the nuclear horror movie. Although on closer inspection, the red warning sign could also say something about live landmines.

Paul want to sneak in further and check out the abandoned building. I'm not sure what'll happen if we do, but I know it will either involve death or the KGB, and probably both.

So I scale one more fence, this one at least 2.5m high, and get groundshock as my feet thud to the ground on the correct side.

We're standing exactly where we were about an hour and a half earlier. We could have walked the long way back around the river and back about four times by now.

You live and you learn, eh?

Oh and we checked out the bouncy castle dome thing before we left, just in case.

It was an indoor tennis court.

Day One in Moscow

The guy who picked us up at the airport looked like a James Bond villian. This was my first thought after laying eyes on the optimistic looking elephant holding a sign with my name on it. He looked like he could tip over a forklift. The second thought was "I wonder if he has KGB connections?" The third was "I wish I'd paid the extra 15% for a guy who speaks English!". Before the fourth, I'd fallen asleep in the passenger seat of his tiny Lada. He obviously understood where to take us, because I drifted awake in time to see some Cyrillic symbols that vaguely resembled Izmailovo Gamma Delta, our hotel in the 1980 Moscow Olympic Village.

The next morning, we took the metro directly into Red Square.

Before laying eyes on anything we recognised, we could tell we were in Russia. The architecture was so intricate, and every building looked like it should be in the guidebook.

Paul in Red Square in front of the Kremlin.

Without a word to each other, we walked all the way towards St Basil's Cathedral, until there was nothing left to do but go inside!

As we walked in the first thing I noticed was that there was no communal space. No big worship area like I'm used to seeing in ordinary cathedrals. Instead there were several small altars. The largest one had a group of four men singing some sort of mournful Russian song in perfect harmony. I wasn't sure if they were busking or just singing for the heck of it, but I listened through the iron gate for ages.

Back in Red Square we popped into Gum - an enormous department store. During the Soviet era, Stalin turned Gum into offices, but now it's like an enormous shopping mall. I can't decide whether I prefer it that way.

Naturally, the next step was the Kremlin, including the biggest bell in the world (202 tons). Which has never actually been rung, because it broke while it was still in the cast. Stink!

The next goal of the day was to see ice sculptures. It failed miserably (see the Life Lesson), but on the bright side we did get to walk along the river bank (for miles and miles!) while it was getting darker.

Why are there so many smoke stacks in Moscow?

We sort of got to see ice sculptures. Or at least, we got within zoom photo distance. It's funny. I didn't realise what the sculpture was of until I processed the photos and saw these two one after the other!

Cold and tired, we wandered for what felt miles, until accidentally stumbling across the largest shopping mall I think I've ever seen. This monument to capitalism feels at odds with former communist Russia, so it was kinda surreal.

We slept very, very deeply back in the Olympic village.