Freak Show

Day 12: Yekaterinburg (RUS) – Omsk (RUS). “The people don't look very Asian”, Karen said as we huddled in all our clothing layers and walked along Pr Lenina against the falling snow. It was a fair observation. As the continent's first major town travelling from West to East, Yekaterinburg felt very European. In fact, it felt more European here that it did back in Moscow; many of the signs were printed using the Roman alphabet, a few more people could speak English and the restaurant staff weren't quite so rude!

We had chosen to spend a day here simply to break our long train journey but actually, it was a really nice place. Historically, Yekaterinburg has an infamous past; for this was the place in April 1918 where the Romanov's were imprisoned, tortured and later executed. It was also the focus of world attention again in May 1960 when Gary Power's U2 spy-plane was shot down from an altitude of 68,000 feet just 20 miles south of the town resulting in the collapse of the Summit Conference in Paris. But today, as Russia's fifth largest city, it feels very cosmopolitan, modern and welcoming.

The intense cold limited our sight-seeing activities to blocks of about an hour before seeking refuge in the warmth of a café or shop. But that worked for us as we had to stock up in preparation for our next train journey; a 53 hour marathon that would take us from our current location down to Irkutsk and Lake Baikal. Most of the Trans Siberian Trains are equipped with restaurant cars, but everybody takes a picnic on-board to 'graze' during the long journey. As we wandered around the supermarket, I gazed into our shopping basket and it reminded me very much of when Karen and I were students: Bread, cheese, mushroom soup flavoured crisps, vodka, fizzy fish, nuts, water and the Russian equivalent to 'Pot Noodle'. Bliss!

To add to the confusion of Trans-Siberian travel, all trains in Russia run to Moscow time (rather than local time) and so at 14:34 we boarded the 12:34 train to Irkutsk. Instantly, we became the source of the locals entertainment as we brought our western style 'freak show' to Service 64. I tried to introduce myself to our Russian cabin-mates using a mixture of English, German, diabolical Russian and sign language whilst Karen was getting to know Maryna our cabin attendant: Maryna, determined to collect all of our train tickets - Karen only wanting to offer those tickets for this leg of the journey. Unable to explain their respective points of view, each grabbed a corner of the wallet and fought over it like two dogs would contest a bone. People swarmed into the corridor to watch this entertaining spectacle – Great Fun!

(By the way, I think Maryna's got the 'hots' for me! - She been asking for my email address and showing me glamour photographs of herself! Perhaps it's my new beard that I've been cultivating since leaving Steeple Morden. I think it gives me a certain 'lived in' look!)

Deep Freeze

Day 11: Balyezino (RUS) – Yekaterinburg (RUS). Karen flung her arms around me, “That's one continent done, on to the next!” she exclaimed excitedly. Our fellow passengers in carriage 8 had started to congregate in the corridor long before we reached the white stone obelisk in that marked the continental division. Behind us now, the continent of Europe and our home of Steeple Morden some three and a half thousand miles to the west. Ahead of us, the continent of Asia, which as part of our travelling adventure, we also intended to cover end to end.

The train pushed on, huge plumes of diesel smoke were visible from our carriage window as the locomotive struggled with the changes of elevation as we crossed the low mountains of the Urals. The snow lay deep and crisp and as we advanced towards Yekaterinburg we caught a glimpse of the rudimentary ski-lifts that formed the basis of this town's winter sports activities. “It looks a bit cold for that”, Karen said with a shudder. She was absolutely right – since crossing the Ural's the temperature had plummeted and we were now trying to come to terms with life in the deep freeze.

In common with the rest of our travelling experience we had lessons to learn – and fast! Foolishly, I had disembarked the train with my jacket open and only my inner gloves for warmth. After just 10 minutes of exposure to these temperatures, I started to experience pins-and-needles in my fingers. We made for the warmth of the Metro station; my hands burning and painful. I realised with horror that in just a few minutes, I was starting to suffer from frost bite. My body's natural reaction to the intense cold was to withdraw all of the blood from my extremities in order to maintain the functioning of my vital organs.

After stopping for a hot drink and checking that we were fully layered up we ventured outside again – incredibly cold but this time bearable. Ahead of us an advertising hoarding broadcast the outside temperature: -20 degrees centigrade: colder than the inside of a three star chest freezer – no wonder we were cold!

As with everything in life, there was an upside however to the incredible cold that we were experiencing. In need of warming we stopped by a local bar and ordered a couple of vodka's. Out here they store the Vodka outside, so that it turns syrupy in the extreme cold. And it went down beautifully; smooth, cold, viscous. So well in fact that we had to have another. And another. And...

Zazdorovje! (Cheers!)

Trans Siberian Express

Day 10: Moscow (RUS) – Balyezino (RUS). The snow was falling thick and fast. I cleared the condensation from the carriage window using the sleeve of my jumper and peered out into the gloomy Moscow night. After a couple of minutes a big grin covered my face as I caught a glimpse of what I was looking for: Kilometre marker '1'. It was 38 minutes past midnight and the powerful diesel locomotive that hauled service 44, the Trans-Siberian Express, had just pulled out of Yaroslavsky station.

We had boarded the longest train journey on earth; our destination, Beijing was located at kilometre marker 7,865 – some 5,000 miles down the line and this was to be our goal for the next three weeks.

After the formalities of boarding the train we soon found the cabin that would be our home for the next 36 hours and we were making ourselves at home. This time we had opted for 'kupe' class which was similar to the 'couchette' cars that we used in Europe, only the Russian trains had just 4 berths per compartment rather than 6 giving us a little more personal space.

As the only English speaking people on the train, we were soon causing a lot of interest with the locals – our carriage attendant seemed to burst into fits of giggles every time she saw us (I'm still not sure why!) and so it was not long before we were paid a visit by 'Director of Train' no less; handsomely dressed in a shiny blue shell suit. (Nice!). But after checking through our paper-work he seemed happy enough and went about his business.

The train sped on in a North Easterly direction towards Perm, the most northerly latitude of our entire adventure, rolling through dense forests of pine, birch and oak and crossing two more time zones in the process. According to the locals we spoke to in Moscow, the weather had been exceptionally mild for the time of year – but not so here. Winds blowing directly off the Arctic Tundra, had brought an abundance of snow to these forests and we gazed on in delight at the constantly evolving 'Christmas Card' scene before us; trees and telegraph poles bowing under the weight of a Russian winters snowfall. Stunningly beautiful.

As the light faded and the train continued on its incessant journey into the heart of this enormous country, we engaged in a friendly conversation with Galia; our room-mate for this leg of the journey. Galia could speak no English and we could speak no Russian, but between us we managed to engage in a long and amusing dialogue that was closer to charades than conversation. She told us how she was returning home after visiting her three daughters. Or did she have just the one daughter, but she had been there three times? Or did her one daughter have three cats? I guess we'll never know – good fun none-the-less.

Eventually Galia, produced a book of Sudoku puzzles. Something we could all participate in as equals - the universal language of mathematics. Although, I don't think Karen was too impressed by the symbols used by the Russian authors of the book to depict the difficulty of each puzzle. Easy puzzles were denoted by a picture of a child, intermediate puzzles by a picture of a woman and difficult puzzles by a picture of a man. I said nothing!

Bolt

Day 9: Moscow (RUS). As Anastasiya Yatsenko took her final encores, I had to admit there was a tear in my eye. “It must be awful smoky in here”, I said to Karen, as the house lights came up in the Bolshoi Theatre. She said nothing but gave me a knowing smile as we slowly made our way up the aisle to the exit at the back of the auditorium.

When it comes to art and literature, I'm a bit of a philistine. Don't get me wrong; it's not that I dislike art - it's that to be honest, I don't really understand it. And so ordinarily, give me a choice between going the ballet or going to the football, I'd have my Watford scarf on before you could say “Ah, referee!”. But our travel adventure was about new experiences and as we were in Moscow, home of arguably the best ballet company in the world, performing at arguably the best ballet venue in the world, we simply couldn't miss this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Moscow had turned up in its finery; black ties, ball gowns, diamonds and tiaras. And then there was Karen and me: Hiking boots, muddy trousers, fleeces and woolly hats – clearly the scruffiest people there – but nobody minded (well we didn't anyway!)

As the spectacle in front of us unfolded I became completely entranced by the powerful combination of music and dance as the State Academy performed Dmitry Shostakovich's Bolt; a ballet in two acts depicting the tale of a disgruntled factory workers plot for industrial sabotage; a theme deemed so controversial in 1930's communist Russia that it was banned after its one opening night performance and remained confined to the text books until re-instated by the Bolshoi in 2005.

The talent, commitment and dedication of the dancers and players shone through in their performance, and even philistines like me were able to grasp what was going on. Karen, did however make me laugh in the final scene when Ivashka's dream conjured up ballerinas on scooters dressed in red flying suits complete with Biggles hats & goggles. “It looks like a highly coordinated version of the Red Barrows!”, she said And she was absolutely right. (Although the only people that would understand that reference are people from Steeple Morden who have seen Shostakovich's ballet. Chris?)

As we made the way out of the Theatre we were reminded of our presence in Moscow by the usual souvenir sellers selling their incredible repertoire of tat: Bolshoi Theatre snowstorms, ballet shoe fridge magnets; Swan Lake tea cosies – they had the lot.

As we made our way to the Metro station, Karen and I reflected on the wonderful evening we had spent and we contemplated our next ballet. Maybe, just maybe, I did have that 'culture gene' after all.

Local Knowledge

Day 8: Moscow (RUS). “Thanks, Sergie. we feel a lot better now”, I said as we shook hands and made our goodbyes. Karen and I made our way down the narrow corridor of 20a Novoalekseevskaya Street, through security and back out to the main street.

Our stay in Moscow had taught us the importance of seeking local help to enrich our travel experience, whether that be from our new found chums in the hostel, Moscowvites that we met during our stay, or 'friends of friends' that everybody has across the world. We didn't need to try do everything alone - in fact, the truth was, we couldn't do it all on our own.

And so , when we became concerned about the our visa registration we opted to make the short trip to the Alecseevskaya area of Moscow to pay a visit on our friends at Real Russia. It is a legal requirement in Russia that if you stay in the same location for more than 72 hours you have to register your movements with the State Police. We had been in the city for more than two days and hadn't got around to this. Also, to make matters worse, when we entered Russia from Belarus nobody had stamped our passports which added to our anxiety's. 20 minutes with Sergie, though and everything was sorted. All the paperwork in order, everything legal, everything explained.

As we left the offices, Sergie enquired about our plans for the day and he insisted that as we were in Alecseevskaya we must pay a visit to the All Russia Exhibition Centre . Off of the main tourist map, this was fascinating place. Originally created in the 1930's to show everyone the success of the Soviet economic system - glorifying every aspect of socialist construction from education and health to agriculture, technology, science and food. We found the Armenian pavilion particularly inviting but that was probably due to the availability of their excellent local brandy that we just had to sample (it would have been rude not to!)

Our confidence in navigating Moscow had increased immensely and by the afternoon we were hopping onto monorails, off trolleybuses and onto the metro with relative ease – a very different picture than when we arrived in this alien city just a few days ago.

It wasn't all plain sailing though. At dinner, in my constant battle to get to grips with the Russian language and with my clumsy understanding of Cyrillic, I ended up with a plate of Pigs Snout with Boiled Cabbage. Tasty!

Dare

Day 7: Moscow (RUS).

Take a lift to the top of the Empire State,
Take a drive across the Golden Gate,
March, march, march across Red Square,
Do all the things you've ever dared.
These are the things, These are the things:
The things that dreams are made of.

If you recognise those lyrics, chances are you are as old as I am and have a similar taste in dodgy music! I remember buying the Human League album 'Dare' as a spotty adolescent back in 1981 and being inspired by the words and Phil Oakey's delivery of 'The Things That Dreams are Made of'. I remember thinking, “Yeah, I'm going to do all of that”.

Well it's took me a long time, but today, after almost 30 years, I finally achieved that boyhood dream. Karen and I visited New York back in 2000 as part of a long weekend away to cerebrate her 30th birthday, and as part of the usual tourist route we ascended America's most famous skyscraper. The following year we did a tour of the West Coast on one of our most memorable holidays and on the way down from the Napa Valley to LA we we drove over that iconic bridge. On this day, as flurry's of snow blew in the cold Russian air Karen and I walked the across the open expanse between Pokovshy Cathedral and the Lenin Mausoleum and I finally completed the set by marching across Moscow's famous square.

Moscow is an amazing place – not what I was expect ting – but amazing non-the-less. In fact, as we wandered around the wide boulevards, I found it hard to image that this city was ever communist! The chauffeur driven Rolls Royces's and Maybach's portrayed the cities affluence, the top class Sushi restaurants and expensive coffee shops characterised the cities 'chic' and the array of designer brand shops along every high street depicted the city as truly international.

The Kremlin, also, was not what we expected. To me the Kremlin was a building – like the White House, but it is actually the entire old city consisting of government buildings, churches, cathedrals and museums. And believe me it is stunning! The architecture, the paintings and the artefacts exhaust superlatives within minutes. And when we stumbled upon a choir of Orthodox monks delivering praise to God in Russian A Cappella, it sent shudders down our spines. On it's own, worth the 2,000 mile journey.

Day 7: Total Mileage to Date: 2,377: Number of Time Zones Crossed: 4; Number of Countries Visited: 6; Number of Transport Modes Used: 7.

Bogies

Day 6: Minsk (BY) – Moscow (RUS). “K, curly Y, Triangle, backwards R...”, I recited to Karen. If you overheard us you would have thought we were playing some weird image association game, but no, we were actually trying to navigate the Moscow Metro!

Having left 'familiar' languages based on the Roman character set behind some days ago we were trying to make sense of a whole new language based on Cyrillic characters. Sure, we had a map, but the guide book had 'very kindly' translated everything into words that us Westerners could pronounce – and that is not what is displayed in the stations or on the streets!

But eventually we made it to our little hostel (aptly named the 'Trans Siberian') in the Kurskaya district of North East Moscow which would be our home for the next few days. The hostel was a simple affair, but it was clean and had everything we needed. The host, Dima, was extremely helpful and made us feels at home instantly, providing us with some great information on how to make the most of our stay in the capital of the Russian Federation.

Following the stresses of the previous days travel, the journey from Minsk was perfect in every way. Our nine hours on the train passed without incident and we got a perfect nights sleep in our little cabin of the Moscow Railways train. For this leg of the journey, the only occupants of the cabin were Karen and me which meant that we didn't even have to engage in the customary game of 'Twister' every time anybody wanted to get their toothbrush out of their luggage or scratch their right elbow!

As a bit of a closet 'geek', my personal journey highlight was witnessing the engineering solution to handling multi gauge tracks over this gargantuan railway journey: On the Belarusian border the railway gauge (the width of the track) changes from 1.4 to 1.5 meters. But rather than changing trains, the railway authorities simply hoisted the carriages lock, stock and barrel into the air and then deposited them on a new set of bogies compatible with the new railway network. And all of this happened without any of the passengers even having to leave the train. Fascinating! (Hello! Is anybody still awake?)