Moscow - The sun was sinking fast. We watched from the deck, sundowners in hand, as it dipped below the horizon. And as dusk settled over Lake Onega, we raised our glasses and cheered.
It was the midnight sun.
We were nearing the end of our cruise and we were finally far north enough to experience the famed “white nights”.
We cheered mostly because it was the midnight sun, which, even for a group of South Africans used to spectacular sunsets, was something magnificent, and also because we had despaired of ever seeing the sun again.
Since our last stop in the medieval town of Uglich three days earlier we had seen nothing but forest, water and grey clouds.
It was an unusually miserable early spring, our on-board guide, Rita, told us as she shivered in her thin jacket (she hadn’t quite packed the proper clothes either). That was the second Russian lesson we learnt: it’s cold, even when you think it won’t be.
The first I learnt was immediately upon arrival at Domodedevo Airport in Moscow: Russian airport officials are worse than South Africa’s. Don’t even try to explain to them that you’re lost. They don’t care. And don’t, even by accident, try to enter through the wrong door. They will shout at you, and they will chase you out.
And suddenly you’re aware that you’re in the country once ruled by Josef Stalin.
That’s the disconcerting thing about Russia. It’s beautiful, with its vast rivers and lakes and its ancient forests, but Stalin’s ghost lingers wherever you go.
As we stood freezing on Red Square – it was 7ºC in Moscow that day, gloomy and grey – it was easy to imagine him standing on Lenin’s tomb, delivering a speech to rouse the masses, and if they didn’t clap enthusiastically enough or stopped to soon, they were doomed. (These days the tomb is still guarded, but now the worst that will happen is that the guards will blow a whistle to tell you you’re too close to the railings.)
And on the boat you can’t help but think of the thousands of men Stalin condemned to working on the Moscow-Volga Canal, one of his many vanity projects to impress the West. Several villages had to be evacuated to make way for this impressive canal – in some cases the people were given just three days’ notice to go. Keep a lookout for the church towers rising above the water – as Rita said, they bear testimony to Stalin’s cruelty.
Lenin is everywhere; there’s a statue of him in every town. In Yaroslavl, which was founded in 1010, is on the Unesco list for its architectural and cultural value and was the birthplace of Soviet cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin, among other things – Lenin stands proudly on the town’s Red Square, pointing towards some distant socialist utopia. Except, our wry local guide, Valery, pointed out, the square is neither red, nor a square, and Lenin is pointing in the direction of the local jail.
And Khrushchev and Brezhnev’s legacies can be seen in the ramshackle flats in Moscow – visible reminders of the crumbling decay of communism in its later years. These blocks of flats, which are easy to spot among the shiny new high-rises of the immediate post-Cold War years, make the Joburg CBD look good. And if you think Joburg’s traffic is bad, try Moscow’s.
There are, in fact, a few things in Russia that will remind an SA traveller of home. There was a street protest in Moscow one afternoon – but we saw no rubber bullets, or live ones, flying.
Deference to officialdom is also familiar. When we were to visit the famous Armoury in the Kremlin – we were in the queue, tickets in hand, eagerly awaiting our chance to see all that glittered in gold during tsarist times – when we were unceremoniously turned away because some high-powered delegation got there first and wanted the place all to themselves. So much for the Armoury then.
As our Moscow guide, Oleg, said: “This is Russia.”
Oleg, a philosophy lecturer, was a bastion of stoicism. When things did not go according to schedule – as they did a few times – he would make us all repeat after him: “No explain, no complain.”
Well, yes, this is Russia. And it will be unlike any place you’ve ever visited. Hidden behind the Iron Curtain for decades, Russia is finally there for the world to explore, and all manner of tour companies are offering packages for every kind of traveller. Go!
We travelled on the Motorship (Yes! It has a motor!) Mikhail Bulgakov from Moscow north to St Petersburg. The boat belongs to Mosturflot, one of several companies running the line between the two cities in spring and summer, when the rivers aren’t frozen over (it’s not a long tourism season).
The boat feels like a hotel on water – a slightly shabby one, to be sure, but then, everything in Russia is slightly shabby, even St Petersburg, despite its reputation as a glittering city of palaces.
It has everything you need for a good cruise – two bars, for a start: one for your G&T sundowners when it’s sunny and warm on the deck, and one for your White Russian nightcap before you go to bed after a long day of sightseeing. You get to put your drinks tab on your “on-board credit card”, so it feels as if everything is free. Until the last day, when you get your bill, of course.
There are also a comfortable lounge, an expensive souvenir shop and a run-down treadmill if you really want to exercise overlooking the Volga in temperatures in the low 10s.
Lunch and dinner in the restaurant were always four-course meals: salad, soup, main and dessert. Standard Russian fare is not all that thrilling, and they’re not big on salt. But it is filling, and the borscht did keep us warm.
Make sure you’re travelling with someone you are really comfortable with. The standard suites are tiny, but the bathrooms are a marvel of spatial planning: a shower, a toilet and a wash basin all cramped in a cubicle the size of a matchbox. And it works well!
Of course, one of the greatest advantages of a cruise is that you get to see several places in one go, without having to pack and unpack all the time. The Moscow-St Petersburg boats stop at five places.
If you’re looking for religion, you may find it anywhere along the route in this land of domes and cathedrals.
Start your pilgrimage at Moscow’s magnificent Cathedral of Christ the Saviour, for an education of a more political nature. Built in the 19th century, it was demolished by the communists in 1934 as part of their campaign to snuff out “the opium of the masses”.
Their idea of providing succour to the masses was to build a giant swimming pool on the site after World War II. It was to be heated all year round. But the combination of warm water and cold Russian air proved to be deadly: because of the fog, several swimmers became disoriented and drowned.
After the collapse of the Soviet Union the cathedral was rebuilt – nowadays, it’s the perfect place to stage a protest if you want to get President Vladimir Putin really mad. But be careful: you may just end up in jail.
The links between church and state go way back in Russia. Red Square’s famous St Basil Cathedral was built to celebrate some military victory of Ivan the Terrible’s. In Uglich, the Church of St Dmitry on the Blood, with its star-spangled sky-blue onion domes, was built on the site where Tsarevitch Dmitry, a son of Ivan the Terrible, was murdered (or he collapsed and died after an epileptic fit – it all depends on whom you’re listening to).
The story goes that the people weren’t too happy with Boris, their ruler after Dmitry’s death. So they rang a bell to call a rebellion. Boris was so incensed that he had the bell flogged. Not satisfied with that punishment, he also had its ear and tongue cut off, and banished it to Siberia. It seems it was eventually rehabilitated and released, because it's back in the church.
But just as you start to lose your faith in humanity, you get to Kizhi, a small island in Lake Onega. Everything’s made of wood. It’s a beautiful sight: green fields, yellow flowers, and the dark log structures. The famous landmark, the Transfiguration Church, was built in 1714, and it’s still standing – even if it did look as if it was leaning a little – although it has not one nail in it. Not a single one.
After all the stories and sights of cruelty, it’s a welcome relief – a breathtaking reminder of human ingenuity.
Once you’re church-ed out, perhaps it’s time to look for courage in a different place: a bottle. Which you’ll find plenty of at the Vodka Museum in the village of Mandrogi, on the Svir River. Bizarre architecture, strange colours and monster mosquitoes (yes, there are mosquitoes in Russia – I did not know that) combine to make this a strangely charming and unmissable sight. Sure, it’s something of a tourist trap, but you’ll get a good barbecue lunch there (and after all that Russian food on the boat, we South Africans were all craving a good piece of braaied meat). And souvenirs – good ones. They’re more expensive than in, say, Arbat Street in Moscow or the lane of tourist shops at Goritsy, but they’re also more authentic.
Before you go to the Vodka Museum, though, stop off at the coffee shop and have a proper Russian pastry – raspberry, cherry, blueberry, chocolate – to fortify yourself. At the museum, 100 roubles gets you in and allows you four shots of vodka to taste. Pick them well – there are scores to choose from and you can bring only two bottles home with you, packed neatly in your check-in luggage.
Mandrogi is the last stop before St Petersburg. All along the strains of Kalinka and Lara’s Theme have followed us, but now we were in the city of Culture. The home of Swan Lake, the Hermitage and the orgy of opulence that is Peterhof. At Peter the Great’s estate on the Gulf of Finland, it becomes easy to understand why communism found such fertile ground in Russia – it’s not called the Versailles of Russia for nothing. When you have to wear surgical booties to enter a palace, you know you’re on hallowed ground.
The fountains are a marvel of engineering (they work according to the laws of gravity) and a major tourist attraction – get a good spot a while before noon, when the thundering symphony starts playing and the water starts flowing.
Don’t forget your sunglasses on the bus – with all that gold, you’ll need them.
For when the sun does come out in Russia, it’s a many-splendoured thing. - Saturday Star