Moscow

Moscow at last!

Everyone poured off the train, and John and I were met by a man from Kazakhstan in a sad looking Lada. Here was the promised ‘tourist ambassador’ to guide us to the hotel. The boot was full of a huge oil drum, so our poor beleaguered luggage was squashed in and the rest rammed on our laps. No luxury then. We had booked into the Hilton, and our man from Kazakhstan looked about, after following us into the lobby, not carrying any cases and said, ‘fancy place.’ He gave us a tourist map, highlighted the metro routes and said, ‘goodbye, have a good time in Moscow.’

The shower was wonderful. So was the club sandwich, and then it was off out to explore.

The streets and buildings tugged my heart strings, it was as though we were once more back in Kiev. The air was full of poplar/chestnut/tree fluff, floating down like snowflakes. Grasses were allowed to grow high and there was a heat in the sun. For now we orientated ourselves with supermarkets, the Metro and the route back to the hotel. Tomorrow we would hit the high spots.

The following morning I looked at John hanging on to a strap of the Moscow Metro. We had done well on this trip, managing to find our way around the Beijing and Shanghai underground stations, marvelling at the courtesy and friendliness of all our fellow passengers. Here was no different. Later in the day we would jump off on the ‘brown circle line’ just to photograph the amazing art and art deco lights.

People smiled at us, in a quiet understanding way. It didn’t matter that it was rush hour. Photographs had to be taken.

First stop was Red Square, and for us it will always be associated with the violent clashes of colour from the various football shirts and balloons and mascots. Mexico, Peru, Argentina, Spain, Brazil, South Korea, Japan. It was wonderful to be in amongst so much happiness.

We queued to see the Armoury Museum, in the Kremlin. There was gold, carvings and Bible covers, Faberge eggs, and horse armour. But the star of the show was the building itself and the enormous rooms. In one room were housed the carriages of the Empress Elizabeth, the daughter of Peter the Great who had seized the throne from baby Ivan VI, in another were the dresses of Catherine the Great.

I tried to imagine how they would feel waking up in the morning. ‘Hmmm, I think I will take the splendid carved carriage today.’ Thank goodness they didn’t live to see the Lada in action.

We walked in the sunshine around the Kremlin walls, admiring the glittering gold domes of the churches, and finally came right up to the best of them all – St Basils.

Afterwards we ducked into the Gum shop for an ice cream.

It was so elegant, so expensive and a museum in itself. Where was the shop that had withstood the harshness of the communist years? I had not imagined it to be so sophisticated. I imagined it to be like Tsum in Kreschatyk Street in Kiev, where we were not allowed to buy the object on display, just point and another was brought up from the bowels of the earth for us to actually purchase.

We lunched in amongst the football-fan throngs; the place was alive with the babble of ‘tongues’. The Russians themselves were delighted with all the visitors and even had trained a tourist police force to speak English in order to help.

We walked away from Red Square and down to the old Metropole Hotel, and across the square where Karl Marx stood proudly with a pigeon on his head.

My mission was to see the Bolshoi and perhaps get tickets for tonight’s ballet.

Here was where Anna Pavlova danced, here was where Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake premiered in 1877, and where operas by Puccini and Verdi and Rossini were performed. We queued and no one knew the price for the evening’s performance. It was frenetic, everyone mobbed around the box office window. John was going pale at the haggling prices, 170, 200… for what? One? Two? Is that roubles or dollars? Shady guys whispered that they had two tickets, special price…

It was astronomic, so we exited, much to John’s relief. Instead we joined the happy sunbathers and just for a laugh I did a few poses in front of the building. A lovely old lady came over and told me to adjust my arms properly for 5^thposition!

Then we met our first bandit of the holiday. We wanted to go to Gorki Park, and decided to flag down a taxi. Well, he tossed over a piece of paper with his rates and off we went. Admittedly the city was busy , ‘this is Moscow’ our rogue laughed happily, ‘always busy, always too much traffic.’ We eventually got over the river and he pulled up. John went pale again. He had to pay by card. The bill was £70!!!

But the park was beautiful, serene and quiet. The greenery such a relief after the frenetic scenes of Red Square. We watched sweethearts walk by the River Moskva and people playing ping pong and lying on giant bean bags.

We decided to rest our legs and have a beer. It was just so soothing. I remember the book by Martin Cruz Smith, and then the film. It was all spies and intrigue. Good setting, but for us, it was a blissful end to a very frenetic day.

There is so much to see, and so little time. I would have loved to have seen the painting of The Battle of Borodino in the Borodino Panorama museum. It is a 115 m long canvas depicting the all-out war between Russia and France in 1812 with Czar Alexander and Napoleon facing each other on horseback. Another time.

Sadly we had to leave the next day. John was very reticent about getting another taxi, but he needn’t have worried. Our guy was superb. Courteous and professional. He even carried our bags to the departure door. He wasn’t even an ‘ambassador’.

And now we are home. Our amazing trip is over, and we have come back to a Scotland bathed in hot sunshine. The grass is cut, the flowers are blooming and the floors are mopped.

Already we have cycled around the 23km of Loch Leven,

and on Saturday we climbed the mountain, Schiehallion, a mighty Munro. (Mountain over 3000 ft, or 1000 m.)

The day was scorching, the path was practically vertical and then it hit stones, scree and finally massive boulders. I really didn’t think I would make it, and had visions of being helicoptered off, full of shame.

But no, we survived and did admire the panorama of sheer beauty all around us, for miles and miles. So we can now carve another victory on to our bedpost!

I did manage to squeeze in a sewing class where I learnt how to print daisies and amalgamate the technique with applique. Quite nice.

It was good to catch up with Gerry, Cathal, Darcey and Dylan. All brown as berries and Darcey happy to spend the day with us last Wednesday. Gerry and I had a good day in Edinburgh with just Dylan, whose little head was whirling around at every car, bus and taxi that passed! A stimulating day for him, and I can’t believe he is seven months already.

Natasha, Leo, Bonnie and Hazel are spending the summer in Greece, working on farms. So far they have been on a horse farm, an olive grove and now they are on the island of Paros but are heading back to mainland Greece at the weekend. They all look like Greek natives and are thriving on salads and ratatouille. Bonnie sent me a picture of the Cyclops that she had drawn herself. I am impressed. They will be there till end of August.