Communication Breakdown

The blog and my nearly year-long habit of updating it were no match for the arrival of 7 American friends. The sightseeing, travelling, catching up, dining, and general having of fun crowded out the opportunity to write.

As my friends arrived at the airport on different flights over the course of a day, I thought I was burned out on Russia. Everything seemed to be both difficult and aggravating - the purchase of a SIM card for my cell phone for some reason involved close inspection of my legal status in the Russian Federation, for example. And a lot of everday things began to annoy me, too.

But as I wrap up my Russia experience with 5 days in St. Petersburg, I find myself curiously coming back around. There's beauty here, and culture, and an urban-yet-sane pace of life. I resolved to not let things bother me - and I've had much more fun than I did in Moscow over the previous few days.

So I've begun to refine things. I think I was burned out on travel, not being in one place for more than a couple of days over the past month plus (remember Kiev and Novorossisk in the total travel tally).

But being essentially homeless in Russia dooms me to that fate. When travel plans of the visiting American contingent changed, I decided to opt out of further adventure in Russia between now and my scheduled departure date at the end of May.

Instead, I moved the plane ticket forward.

Blog entries from this point, then, will be from stateside. I'll try to wrap up with things I have learned, seen, figured out, or failed to understand from my time in Moscow and Russia. I'll post pictures, too, that are illustrative or interesting or maybe just funny.

But the big adventure is over - at least the Russia chapter - and everything from now on will be from the domestic perspective of someone who once had an inside track, a ringside seat, for one of the world's great spectacles.

Welcome Back - Now, What Are You Doing Here?

I really wasn't fair to Nizhni Novgorod. I should have paid more attention. I should have had more stamina. Instead, at a critical decision point I pulled the plug on more time in the city formerly known as Gorky.

It happened at the ticket counter in the train station. When the agent asked when I wanted my ticket to Moscow, I went through a list of considerations: my 6am arrival, my 12 hours of wandering around the city, my aching feet, my sore shoulders. In a flash, I answered "Tomorrow."

So I was heading back to Moscow on Thursday - a day earlier than planned. It was chickening out, for sure, but in the grand scheme of things it was a minor few hours at the end of a month of travel. That's what I tell myself.

I explored the city a bit more after dinner, but I was back at the station early the next day for the 5-hour trip to Moscow. The train wasn't a sleeper, but I stretched out and slept anyway. I had visions of Moscow in my head the whole way. Perhaps, I got a bit too sentimental about returning.

This city has a way of welcoming people back. It's an icy bear hug that's both friendly and menacing at the same time. Moscow's pretty sure that you can't live without her - and she treats you accordingly.

At the Kursk station, the main hall was closed - forcing hordes of people to clamber over tracks and weave through a drug store to exit the station complex.

After I secured my hotel, I thought I might go for a restorative stroll in the park across the street. The leafy green trees and grass (the first I've seen in Russia since last fall!) enticed such notions.

There's no such thing as a simple stroll in the park in a country like this. Alas, another document check by the police.

"What are you doing here?"
"What are you doing in Russia?"
"What's in your pockets?"
"How much money do you make in New York?"

A string of questions, some of official nature and some just plain curiosity. The conversation veered back and forth from interrogation to chat. But conversations like this always have the potential to end in statements, not questions. And they usually aren't too good.

"You are in the country illegally."

I pleaded my case and pointed out my very fresh Moscow registration from the hotel across the street. The policemen were suitably confused by all the stamps on my visa - and its official 'social-political' status - and decided to let me go.

"All the best," the militia men said as they handed back my passport and papers - and pointed me on my way back to the hotel. Thanks for the concern for my safety at 3pm.

All the best. Indeed.

Nizhni Novgorod

Nizhni Novgorod is a big place; a sprawling industrial center with more than 2 million residents. That seems to affect the aspects of how it presents itself - from the past to the present.

The city is at the intersection of the Oka and Volga rivers, and has always been a strategic asset. One look at the massive Kremlin riding high on a bluff over the river junction will remove any doubts about that. The Kremlin is still the administrative center of the region, and is packed with office buildings and workers among the leafy parks and monuments. Its also notable in that its possible to walk along the tops of the walls and get a look at both the city on the outside, and the governmental city on the inside.

Its a beautiful place, providing sweeping vistas of the rivers and the rest of the town. Its also interesting to see an ancient power center still function centuries later as a power center. Most castles and keeps the world over have become irrelevant. But here in Russia (Moscow, Kazan, and Nizhni Novgorod anyway) the Kremlin is still the real heart of things.

Outside the kremlin, 'Nizhgorod' is a bustling metropolis of big streets and big traffic and big hurries. In all, I think its safe to say that its the most Russian city I've been to, as well. Its all a bit chaotic, a bit rundown, and a bit ... well...Russian.

So how to explain a thing like that? There appears to be very few traffic lights in this enormous city. 5-way intersections with speeding cars and weaving pedestrians are the norm in the center of town. The tram stop at my hotel is in the middle of 6 lanes of cars -it's up to you to get back and forth to the tram safely. The main pedestrian street is just that - a street, not a cobblestone walkway - where cars randomly appear and honk their horns at the crowds of people strolling along.

But for me there's one more important characteristic. In the very center of town, it's possible to buy kvas (a bread-based beverage from an old lady sitting next to an enormous yellow barrel on wheels. That's a disappearing site in most cities in Russia - but one I'll always identify with this country. And happily, too; I love kvas.

So Nizhni Novgorod is a fascinating place - and one that's gotten the short end of the stick for a long time. 'Nizhni' means 'lower' in russian - a moniker attached to distinguish it from a much older city. And then, in Soviet times, the city was named after a revolutionary writer who changed his name to Gorky - or 'bitter' - to reflect his outlook on things.

So first lower, then bitter. Unfair. It really doesn't deserve either.

Home is Where the Crowds Are

Somewhere between my 9th and 10th city I decided I was an expert on a lot of things. It happened while writing on a train speeding along the shore of the Volga. "I'm no expert..." the note began; but it stopped there.

Between my education and practical and professional experience, I really do have a lot of things pretty well figured out. Sometimes it even borders on the eerie - like a sixth sense. For example, today when I passed a bored traffic cop on the side of the road. The look on his face, the way he wore his hat, the way he idly swung his useless baton on a traffic-thinned holiday afternoon, the way he looked at me on the sidewalk. All of it screamed 'document check'.

Bang! Right on the money! So I congratulated myself as he flipped throuhg my passport and looked for local Kazan registration. He was a bit intimidated by the purple blur of registration stamps on my immigration card. At this point in my travels, even my registration stamps have registration stamps - post-it notes stuck onto forms to provide more room. I pointed out the Kazan stamp and he silently, expressionlessly, and brusquely, thrust the passport back at me.

I know of only one other person who has been 'pulled over' for a document check by a traffic cop (an entirely separate police force here). So I now have the honor of belonging to a very small, and apparently suspicious-looking, group of people.

I must admit, however, that for all my supposed expertise, I can't figure out why the conventional wisdom is so wrong about one thing in particular - the widespread belief that people in smaller population areas are more friendly than people in cities. My travels so far have taken me from Moscow - population over 15 million - to Ust-Bargusin population 8000. And I've found that the exact opposite is often true.

So, here comes the theory. In smaller towns, people aren't used to seeing anyone different let alone a total stranger who looks and dresses differently. In cities, the population is accustomed to seeing strangers with strange ways on a daily basis. They may glance, but are too busy and too inured to bother much. In small towns, though, they stare and talk about you to their friends and speculate on where you're from and where you're going and sometimes stop and watch where you're walking to next. And then one of them hits you up for change or cigarettes.

By far the friendliest people have been train conductors and museum staff. Both are groups that, in my opinion, have every reason to be blase about both strangers and foreigners.

There have certainly been exceptions, and I'll be the first to admit that my theory needs a lot more work. But in the meantime, it feels pretty good to be back in a string of major population centers.

Kazan

For a variety of reasons, I've always wanted to come to Kazan. It has a long history, a different ethnic background, a long reputation as an important provincial capital, and an intriguing modern story of politics and oil. After spending my first day here, I'm happy to say that it was well worth the wait.

Kazan has a massive kremlin complex that is still the administrative heart of the Republic of Tatarstan - an oil-rich region. As such, its in immaculate condition; its monuments, office buildings, new art galleries, and presidential palace. It also has a sparkling new mosque, too, replacing the one destroyed by Ivan the Terrible in 1552 when he captured the city.

Much of the city has the same feeling of careful renovation, too. The main pedestrian street is an architects dream of styles. And its being extended in both directions in a massive civic project. Its lined with nice shops and great cafes. Being here on one of the first warm days and watching the fountains get turned on - the city, in general, waking up - is a special time.

The city obviously has the stamp of a very firm hand on it. The president of the republic is a rather strong ruler with a rather strict style of governance - a privelege he seems to have won from Moscow after dropping independence claims in the early 1990's. The government is not averse to spending its petro dollars on grand projects of his design. Its obvious everywhere - condemned buildings, new buildings, a new metro system, new streets in new neighborhoods, the feeling that anything can be accomplished anywhere in town.

But while that means renovation for much of the city center, sometimes history is a poor match for such outsized grandeur. Kazan celebrated its 850th anniversary about 20 years ago. Last year, to match its new wealth and power and status, the anniversary was upped to 1000 years. Archaeologists assure everyone that the historical record has been filled in considerably in the intervening years. But just getting a look at this newly gorgeous city gives the feeling that everything is possibly subject to a convenient facelift if necessary.

Ekaterinburg

Ekaterinburg is well over a million people in population, making it the biggest city I've been to so far on my journey. It's an attractive, vibrant, dynamic place that seems to hop somewhat comfortably between its varied historical eras.

Conversationally, and as far as the railroad schedules are concerned, Ekaterinburg is still Sverdlovsk - the name the city had during the Soviet period. The 19th-century city center is interspersed, too, with good examples of Soviet architecture. That is to say, examples of good Soviet architecture - from modernist constructivist buildings to Stalinist classicism. My hotel, for example, was designed to house KGB families during the 1930's. More strikingly, it was designed to look like a hammer and sickle from the air. It makes for a long walk to your hotel room from the lobby, but its kind of fun to think about the ideological frenzy in which it was built. On the whole, the new buildings give the city a modern vibe while it still retains its historical character.

And history, after all, is an overbearing force in Ekaterinburg. This is the city where the last tsar was imprisoned and executed along with his whole family - on the orders of Sverdlovsk himself. I took a guided tour of the enormous, lavish cathedral that occupies the same spot. The next day, I took a suburban train to the middle of nowhere and hiked into the woods where the remains of the royal family were found decades later. The church is constructing a sprawling monastery there to honor the royal family as martyrs for their faith.

It's all a little bit of a stretch at times, a little emotional at others. Nicholas II is probably one of history's most criminally inept rulers and responsible for literally millions of deaths. But at the same time, gunning down a man and his whole family in a basement in the middle of the night is not my idea of 'regime change'.

So, I've gone full circle on the Romanovs. I've seen where they've started, how they spent 300 years in power and how they lived in extravagant luxury. And now, I've seen the muddy hole in the ground where they dumped the body of the last Romanov tsar. Poor Nicholas II - the last man at the party - the guy who got stuck with the check.

Actually, the last tsar was exiled first in Tobolsk, the city I had just left. I got a decidedly better reception than he did in the Ekaterinburg of the future; strolling its streets and parks and shivering in its outdoors cafes. In all, a wonderful place for a couple of days.

Tobolsk

Tobolsk was once a very important city, but it hasn't been for a very long time. A day's walk around town will provide all the evidence necessary to support that belief.

The city was once the frontline of expansion of the Russian state. But as time went on, the frontier moved further east and with it the trade and administrative functions that had enriched it.

The northern part of the city is divided into 'micro regions', basically blocks of soviet buildings in clusters along a broad avenue. The boulevard leads right to the Kremlin complex, and impressive collection of cathedrals and towers on a high bluff overlooking the plain along the Irtysh River. At the bottom of the bluff lies the old town - a devastated wreck of a place that looks like some hostile army sped through on its way somewhere more important. The wooden buildings that aren't slowly sinking into the mud have been left as burned out shells. The old town is a very bleak place.

But Tobolsk is trying. The Kremlin is a major restoration site and if initial results are any hint it will be an extraordinary spot when they're done. Even in the old town, some of the most hopeless buildings have official blue signs indicating imminent reconstruction. Most of the many dilapidated churches in town are in similar states.

It'll take time and alot of money, but if Tobolsk can pull it off it'll be a very special place indeed.

Speaking of special places, the Slavyanskaya Hotel here is worthy of note. It's Siberia's first 4-star hotel or something like that. More importantly, it feels like the 4 star hotel that gets built before anyone is sure whether they need a 4 star hotel. Every amenity and luxury imaginable - all just a little bit under-utilized. The fountains in the elevator lobby on every floor have been converted to flower beds. Long hallways have no lights on - the guests all seem clustered in a certain wing. But still, it's really very nice; it's just something you'd expect to find on a highway in Maryland rather than in the middle of Soviet apartment blocks.

It's all very shocking to me. As I laid in bed and soaked in the ridiculous luxury of it all - at a numbingly cheap $70, too - I was jolted out of my post-banya torpor by the phone. "Wouldn't you like the company of a pleasant young lady?" the voice on the phone asked. Well, sure I would. Who wouldn't like company? Oh...you mean.....ohhhhhhhh.

I get pretty lonely on the road all by myself - but not that lonely. Anyway, one more star for the Slavyanskaya Hotel!

The Long Road to Tobolsk

In Krasnoyarsk, I purchased tickets for the next leg of the trip at a travel agent. She routed me through Tyumen to get to Tobolsk. At first, I thought of stopping in Omsk and spending the day. But after my forest adventure, my legs were screaming for a day off.

There was plenty of time to rest up since the train to Tyumen took some 30 hours. Or close to that, I'm not too sure. All train schedules in Russia run on Moscow time. In Vladivostok, for example, a noon train listed on the board is actually a 7pm departure. And so on across the country.

With so many time zones, anchoring the entire country to one fixed time maybe the only practicable solution. But it makes for a disorienting experience mid trip. I usually end up staring at my watch; I've travelled x hours across y time zones. Which means it is current time on my watch minus y time zones equals local time plus z hours difference to Moscow. Luckily, the train attendants keep pretty close tabls on the passengers and make sure they don't miss stops.

The attendant on the train to Tyumen, Alexandra Ivanovna, was an especially wonderful woman. She kept stopping by to chat with me. She's worked on the railroad for 15 years - and is very grateful for the stability of wages and employment it provided during some very tough times in Russia. Next year, however, she's going to retire and become an Amway agent. She excitedly shared brochures and marketing materials as we talked about it.

Amway came to Russia about a year ago. They opened a distribution center but didn't really know what to expect; everyone told them that russians were too lazy for an independent distributorship model. They figured they'd do X dollars in the first year here - not great, but worthwhile.

Instead they did 3 times that figure, and are racing to meet demand.

After a short layover in Tyumen's shiny new train station I continued on to Tobolsk. In the coupe, I met Sasha - already travelling some distance and with another full day to go. On the holiday-thinned trains he had been alone the whole time and it was obvious he was desperately in need of a chat.

He was travelling from Perm to Surgut, a major oil and gas field in the North - -20 degrees yesterday, he said proudly. He's interviewing for a safety engineering job with Schlumberger. Moving his family north doesn't thrill him, but he and his wife agreed that work with a major international firm would make it worthwhile.

I wished him luck when I got off the train at 3am local time in Tobolsk. 3am, I decided, was too early to take a gypsy cab into a city I don't know looking for a hotel I'm not sure about. I checked into the 'resting rooms' at the station instead - essentially a dorm for weary travelers with a long time between trains.

The beds were narrow and the toilet had no seat, but the place was deserted and, frankly, nearly as nice as some of the hotels I've been in at a much higher cost. For $8, I crashed out in a clean, comfortable - and stationary - bed.

Tobolsk can wait a few more hours.