Written by Cath Kenney, Professor, School of Media and Design
Russia, the largest country in the world evokes powerful thoughts of grandeur and mystery…..Dr. Zhivago, Stalinism, Igor Gouzenko and the Cold War, a race for control of nuclear power and space, the barren expanse of Siberia….. This is the tale of a more than middle-aged housewife’s trip through Mother Russia. Be forewarned: this missive is mildly biased and fraught with mild hysteria and exaggeration as this suburbanite can usually be found mapping trips to the grocery store ensuring there are no dangerous left-hand turns.
Dear Husband,
All flights lead to Moscow.
Literally speaking all flights lead to Moscow. Strapped into a vintage plane with interior patterns not seen since the late 60’s, there was a sense of vague familiarity as intense winds rocked us back and forth on the tarmac. Perhaps it was déjà vu. Alas, Ivan ( name changed in order to protect the innocent) grunted, nodded and our group quickly fell in behind our ominous tour guide; ex-army (rumour has it KGB) sporting a trench coat, short cropped hair, clipped vernacular and distinctly Russian air of authority. Documents rigorously scrutinized, we survived the stone-faced glares of custom officials and surfaced in the frenetic Russian airport. Ten hours to our next flight allowed for a trip into Moscow City.
Traffic is such that the 30 kilometer trip into the city took a grueling 2 hours. Some of the sites and sounds of the city were missed. After a few minutes driving, a decision was made that I be muzzled, blindfolded and scrunched into a half fetal position in the back seat while the driver navigated through three lanes of dotted line – each lane squeezing one or two cars travelling at various speeds and directions. We reached head office where we parted ways with Ivan for a few hours while we took the subway to Red Square. Ivan’s final words to the temporary tour guide were succinct: “if you lose them I will kill you”.
The Subway System – a working museum
The main subway system is antiquated and intimidating (the largest ridership in the world with 8 to 10 million passengers on an average weekday). The escalator was not working and hundreds of work weary passengers struggled to merge on the single escalator to make the claustrophobic three-storey climb. Had anyone of us been able to turn around, our breath would have been taken away by the wonder of the palatial station. Decorated with natural and semi-precious stone including pink granite, marble onyx, pink, deep red, black and white marble, stained glass window, embedded with statues, sculptures and chandeliers, artists had graced this 265 km of track, eleven lines and 165 station steel bound working structure with unnatural beauty.
Red Square
The confinement of the subway station dissipated as we crossed the street to Red Square. Across the street was a beautiful set of Georgian style homes looking as though they had been plucked out of Britain and transported to Russia. In another direction, an entire building the size of an apartment block held a giant poster of President Putin with his arm around his heir apparent who is now President.
Red Square is flanked by the Kremlin, outstanding gardens and Saint Basil’s “onion domed” church; it is massive. The Kremlin was closed that day, but we climbed through St. Basil’s church. Each step is sized differently and around each corner amazing architecture and treasures can be found. With no central heating, one could only imagine how cold an entire service would be. Just looking at the vendors selling statues gave us a great idea of how uncomfortable it would be. February is as brutal there as it is here.
The déjà vu continued as we stopped for hot chocolate and watched skaters glide across the ice to the sounds of Celine Dion. I felt very Canadian.
On the way back to the airport, we were encouraged to buy souvenirs including amber as it is found in a number of areas in the Russian federation. We navigated the subway system again and found our way to the train that took us to the airport. If you take the subway and wish to leave the subway, you are required to use the same stub used to enter. If you don’t recall which pocket or “secret” zipper you placed it in, you will be unable to pass through the next security gate. You will be met by two guards who feel the need to yell at you – in Russian. I understand this is their language but how they ever thought I could understand what they were saying was beyond me. I simply kept explaining in a calm, cool and not always collected manner that it might take me a little time to find the item as I was finding it difficult to stop blubbering. Eventually I caught up to my companions who were traveling very quickly.
Well, here I am strapped back into an even older plane and the winds are howling on the tarmac. I’ll write soon…Next stop Siberia…..
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