At 830 on the dot we were off. Using google maps Gem had ‘memorised’ the way out of St Petersburg to the M10, fortunately this was relatively easy and we made it with no trouble. Once on the M10 it was a continuous guessing game as to what the speed limit was and where the police were hiding along the road. Like Australia the oncoming drivers helpfully flash their headlights to warn of an upcoming trap. This would give Duncan time to sneak up behind a truck or van so that the Police did not realise it was a UK vehicle until we passed… that was the general concept anyway.
We drove on persistently, interrupted only by the occasional fuel stop. Being our first experiences of fuel in Russia we had determined that you must estimate how much fuel you need and then pay for it before you start pumping. Only after you have paid will your pump be turned on allowing you to do so.
The roads are variable, and there are plenty of road works aiming to improve the quality. The lookout for potholes and wheel ruts in the bitumen was relentless; and signs saying that the next 5km ahead would be bumpy were common.
As had been the trend in Eastern Europe the sides of the highway were utilised as shop fronts for many trades. Like Eastern Europe, berries, mushrooms and other fruit and veg were in abundance. However distinct to eastern Europe were roadside stalls selling honey, souvenirs, ugg boots and winter vests and hats! In the larger towns the skyline was dominated by the concrete blocks of apartments that are so archetypal of the Soviets. In the smaller villages, no skyline prevails and instead small wooden cottages are nestled in amongst the trees along the side of the road. Many are painted lovely colours with picket fences and vegetable gardens; but conversely stand in various states of disrepair.
We have never seen bugs like this… in fact we can barely see at all, the windscreen is so splattered. It sounds like hail, and has made pretty patterns, white, yellow and red. The wipers are no match for such an onslaught.
We detoured east from Moscow to a town called Sergiev Posad which is home Russia’s most important monastery: Troitse-Sergeyeva lavra. This was established by an eccentric hermit monk who had run off into the forest to be alone and be forgotten. His strange solitary lifestyle and devout beliefs secured him a following and he was forced to build a town for his followers to live. He was asked to give a blessing for a battle and the success of the battle was attributed to Sergius. As such later he became the patron saint of Russia and some of his relics are housed in the monastery making it a popular pilgrimage destination. In the 1920s the monks were banished to Siberia, but in the 1950s Stalin allowed the monastery to reopen as thanks to the Orthodox Church for their support in WWII. What we found most surprising was the sheer number of churches inside the walls of the monastery. They by far outnumbered any of the catholic monasteries that we had been in; The Gateway Church of St John the Baptist, Refectory Church of St Sergius, Church of St Mica, Church of the Descent of the Holy Spirit, Dormiton Cathedral, Trinity Cathedral, Church of the Virgin of Smolensk and the Church of Zosima as well as an enormous baroque bell tower. We were there quite late in the day and some of the Churches were closed. Some were open and were having mass, so we only poked our noses in. As we had expected the interior was similar to other Orthodox churches that we had visited. Dimly lit the churches are extravagantly decorated in floor to ceiling murals. The wall behind what we know as the altar is called the iconostasis. This in our experience almost always contains a lot of gold gilt work that surrounds 4-5 rows of religious iconography. Men must remove their hats, and women must cover their hair. There are no pews, there appears to be no start and finish to a service. You arrive when you want and stay for as long as you want, standing and listening to, or joining the chanting and singing of prayer. As observers from the outside we thought – though we have no historical facts to back this up – that the architecture, interior decoration and ceremony seemed a combination of more western religions and some eastern/Islamic buildings and ceremonies that we observed in Morocco and Turkey.
But however strange it was to have something like 8 churches inside one monastery wall it was certainly spectacular.
We drove into Moscow and onto the MKAD (ring road) with very little difficulty and now just had to try and find the hotel. This was a little trickier now as we were coming around the ring from the other direction than we had originally planned. Once again with no map, a memory of google maps and written directions we winged it – and almost made it to!!!! Instead ended up on the highway to Warsaw and drove 8-10km the wrong direction before there was an opportunity to turn around. What was most frustrating was that we had been able to see the hotel as we got diverted.
We chose Rus Hotel because it has secure parking, a shuttle to the metro station and a special for non renovated rooms. Because we arrived so late and there are no shops in the immediate vicinity self catering was not an option so that meant eating at the hotel restaurant. It cost £30 for 2 bowls of pasta and a small bottle of water!!!! Internet was £6 an hour and as breakfast was not included with our room rate we were welcome to join for an extra £9 each!!!!! Outrageous. Needless to say, not all that impressed with the hidden extras but can’t say that we were surprised as we had been warned about it. On the plus side it had it’s own (slightly smelly bathroom) an enormous double bed and some English news, as we have no idea what is going on with the rest of the world.
In the morning, the Moscow underground delivered us safely into the centre of town. It is a huge system, and according to statistics moves more people in a day than both the London and New York underground systems combined. Underground the stations are large and airy, much cooler than the London underground and some of them are richly decorated.
I am sure that is no surprise that our first stop was the Kremlin. A lot of old Russian towns have a kremlin, which means fort. But the most famous in Russia is next to the Red Square in Moscow. Surrounded by an imposing red brick turreted wall it houses many important buildings of today’s government including the Arsenal, the Senate Palace and the Presidium. These of course are off limits to tourists. In fact about 2/3 of the buildings within the walls are off limits. Others such as Armoury Palace, Patriarchal Palace and Cathedral Square are the reason we come.
Originally built in the 12th century as a wooden fort the Kremlin has been destroyed and rebuilt several times. When the Russian states united Moscow became capital, and under the reigns of Ivans the great and terrible, the Kremlin grew. Although Peter the Great moved the capital to St Petersburg for a time the Kremlin in Moscow remained the centre for religious and ceremonial events.
The main focus for tourists is Cathedral square, again not dominated by one particular church but bordered by several impressive churches. In one of the churches a choir of monks sang, a beautiful sound and churches always have such good acoustics. We saw the burial places for all the great (and not so great) Tsars of Russia. Saw a giant decorative canon that was built as a psychological weapon for if it was fired it would break. And a great bell that was damaged in one the wars, and has also never been used. Apparently it was tradition for each of the Tsars to create a bell for the bell tower that would tone lower than the last.
For the first time since leaving Australia we could honestly say we were starting to get a little churched out. So instead of heading for the Red Square we headed for Arbat street, a pedestrianised shopping area full of cafes, street performers and artists and shopping.
The cathedral of Christ the Saviour, is a new-ish addition to Moscow. Like so many things lost during the soviet era it was dynamited to make way for the construction of a soviet palace. The palace was never built and until the 1990s it was an huge open air swimming pool. But in the 1990s it was reconstructed at a cost of 360 million dollars to look exactly as it had.
One of the highlights of the cathedral for us was the bridge from it over the river Moskva. From here there was a wonderful view back over the Kremlin.
We walked along the river marvelling at the some of the neo-gothic seven sisters skyscrapers that we could see, before turning up into the Red Square.
The first thing that you see is of course the unmissable Povrosky Cathedral. This is also known as St Basils Cathedral. Built on one above ground foundation or basement the Cathedral is actually (9) (I think!!) churches with one of them, that held services everyday called St Basils, hence the name. It is so ‘disney’ and fairytale like with its coloured and decorative domes. Apparently the Tsar who commissioned it Ivan the Terrible had the builder blinded when it was finished in 1561, in case he should do something similarly eye catching in another city.
The cathedral was nearly knocked down by the soviets as it stands at one end of Red square and it was thought it did not allow enough room for marching access. Hence knocking it down would have allowed plenty of room for troops and tanks. It never happened thank goodness.
As you pass the cathedral the cobbled Red Square opens up in front of you. The red walls of the Kremlin stand to one side and just in front of them the tomb housing an embalmed Lenin (which unfortunately was closed when we were there). At the far end is the distinctive red and white building of the State History Museum, and a small church that did get bulldozed to create more marching room and has since been rebuilt.
And finally on the other side is GUM what was once a bare state department store is now a high end retail store. The Russians apparently do not do cheap, if it did not cost a lot it is not worth anything. The women all wear brand clothes, with brand accessories, short skirts and high heels are apparently compulsory. The amount of black four wheel drives that we saw in the city was insane. Landcruisers, Jeeps, Hummers and Escalades…
Needless to say Moscow is not the place to do any clothes shopping.
The guide book that we had recommended a stroll past the Old English Court, we weren’t so impressed with this as the buildings seemed largely run down.
Unfortunately we had not organised a tour for the KGB museum so were not able to see it as they don’t allow people off the street. Instead we explored the backstreets of Moscow stumbling on a church the colour or fairy floss before finding ourselves on the square outside the famous Bolshoi Theatre. There was a market in the square which we found some cute little presents.
For our final day in Moscow we had decided to experience the more relaxed side of it and head to Gorky Park. We had our books, and the idea was to watch the world go by and enjoy some greenery.
I think however somewhere along the way there was a communication breakdown as when we got to Gorky Park we discovered that it was in fact an adventure park. There were rollercoasters and fairy floss and balloons. As Duncan had been a little nervous in the hotel lift he was not at all keen to try the Russian rollercoaster, so instead we went shopping!!!!
We were back to the hotel quite early as we wanted to decide where to go next as we worked our way down towards Kazakhstan as we had managed to get our visas a few days prior.
The hardest thing about driving in Russia so far has been the absence of decent maps. We have a major road map which would be adequate except the maps of Moscow that it includes in detail do not go out to the MKAD which is a fairly important ring road.
So once again with a little bit of guess work we found our way out of the city. We did momentarily go the wrong way.. again…. twice… but eventually got ourselves on the right track. It seems that road signs for turn offs etc are at the turn, not giving a lot of warning if you are travelling at 90km an hour.
Now south of Moscow, for the first time in Russia the land appears to be farmed. The standard grains are about but there are also fields and fields of sunflowers.
Driving we saw a beautiful blue domed church with gold stars and in front of it a row of campervans. As they were the first campervans that we had seen since leaving Europe we thought that we would stop and say hello. Sure enough the vehicles were from Germany and Switzerland but there was no one to talk to.
We stopped at the town Tombov. From here we were leaving the motorway and heading east southeast towards Saratov. We are planning to wild camp as often as we can on our way to the border so thought we would use the opportunity to stock up on supplies. We literally just pulled into the carpark of the shopping centre and some guy starts knocking on the window. He had spotted the GB number plates and thought that it was so infrequently that he saw people from home over here that he would say hello. He worked consulting in farming over in Russia on a fly in and fly out basis.
The great big elephant in the car has up until now been alluded to but remained unspoken. After all these driving days in Russia we were yet to be pulled over by the DPS (traffic police). We have passed them going in the other direction, we have passed them hiding in obscure bends, crests and dips in the road, and we have passed them many times at their all too regular DPS stations situated on the roads. And finally today, an officer in blue, with his black and white baton and his shiny gold teeth waved us in. We don’t think he actually realised that we were an international car because he first came to Gem’s side of the vehicle. He then came around to Dunc’s side and started talking in Russian, he had no English and we had not enough Russian to have any idea of what he was talking. Duncan passed in his international drivers permit. ‘Ruski Ruski’ said the policeman. ‘Da da da’ he smiled, his gold teeth glinting when Dunc showed him the Russian translation. The next document he required was the Russian insurance, “Da da da” he smiled again, checking the number plate and waving us on our way.
We turned off a track, followed it behind a grove of trees that shielded us from the road and set up camp. Unfortunately this did not outweigh Gem’s fear of the dark… or fear of our first night real wild camping. We were not far enough away from the road for her to feel secure, yet hidden enough that others could be hiding too… Poor Dunc had to chaperone her downstairs to use the facilities. Back in the tent though, imagining sounds outside with every breath and breeze Gem finally fell asleep…. But she got much better at it as we got further from the big smoke.
The Russian countryside has opened up to a massive farming expanse. We are in ‘black soil country’, so the patchwork fields alternate between rich newly turned black soil ready for sowing, fields with newly cut hay piled loosely, and acres of sunflowers with their faces pointing east.
The towns out here have lost their concrete soviet look, and resemble isolated farming communities that have seen better days. Almost all construction is wooden.
Yesterday in some of the bigger towns each house had a bench outside for people to stop and chat. Almost all of the houses had apple trees whose branches were heavy with fruit. On some streets there are so many apples, the fallen fruit has been raked into piles like autumn leaves. But out here there are few trees. And little time it would seem to stop and chat. At bus stops that appear in the middle of nowhere people wait with their hands outstretched, hoping that car will pick them up before they have to take a bus.
Hugo smells today. The diesel we bought yesterday was cheap (~28p/L), perhaps it has something, or is missing something compared to the fuel we buy. But he appears to be running ok on this slightly sulphurous substitute. Nevertheless we intend to top up with fuel from a larger looking fuel station at the next opportunity.
This day has advanced with Hugo steadily putting more and more miles under his tyres and seeing some beautiful scenery, leaving us feeling slightly satisfied with ourselves but for one thing; we do not have very much money on us, and the few small towns that we have passed through recently have not had banks or bankomats. But aside from this small inconvenience we felt confident and content regarding our Russian experience so far and what was to come in Kazakhstan.
Ah, how quickly the winds of change blow. We arrived at Ozinki with a little difficulty. For some bothersome reason unbeknownst to us, signage becomes fewer and farther between the further south east you venture in Russia. This meant that we had quite a bit of back tracking and diverting to arrive safely at the border town. At one stage we were so off course that we were driving through some farm fields and came across some old guys and their massive tractors. They were very interested in who we were where we had come from and where we were going. They laughed when they found out where we wanted to go, but very good humouredly pointed us in the right direction.
We did get there, and found the border. So next stop – bankomat, but of course this border town does not have a bankomat, and despite attempts at pidgeon-russian and charades we were unable to communicate our need to any of the locals, most of who looked at us blankly and then turned away. Looking at the map, the closest town that was guaranteed to have a bankomat was Samara, several hundred kilometres away. As we were keen to cross the border now and we figured that we had a couple of hours of daylight left so we would head in that direction til dark and then get up early in the morning and continue to get the money that we would need to cross the border.
Then the road ran out of road. Or perhaps I am being a little over dramatic. There was road but it was dirt and full of potholes meaning that progress was very slow. Darkness fell and slowly intensified without streetlights or the glow from a huge metropolis like London that we had become used to. The dirt track continued to wind onwards, never seeming to go in the direction that we wanted it to. Next looming out of the darkness a town would emerge, looking even more sinister and desperate in the headlights of Hugo, than it did in the day. A wrong turn off from a town led us to a dark machinery parking lot all but abandoned except for the “rabid” Alsatian bounding and barking around Hugo’s four wheels. With Gem freaking out that she had landed into a real life Wolf Creek scenario (if you have seen it you know to what this alludes, if you haven’t seen it, word from the wise is DON’T) it was all Dunc could do to keep driving despite the dark.
We asked directions from a farm girl and her mother. They seemed to argue about which direction to go, which wasn’t a lot of help. We took a best guest of their gesturing and came to a lake. Two shady looking characters (who turned out to be nice boys who appeared to be out for a night time fish) waved us in the direction around the lake. We came to a town with bitumen, and were pulled over by a policeman who after checking our papers thrust his red glowing baton in the direction we needed to go. This road also ran out of bitumen. With the clock approaching the witching hour and Duncan fatigued and Gem a little less hysterical we stopped, threw up the tent and slept.
And all of this because we were so unprepared that we had arrived at the border with no money!
This morning we woke before the alarm, and after negotiating more dirt roads that weren’t going exactly where we wanted them to go but were rendered much more agreeable because of the beautiful sunrise that we were witnessing, we arrived at the motorway.
We drove past the DPS to the fuel station, the fuel station did not take visa, but said that there was a bankomat in town – more glorious news could not have been heard. Not even the surly police officer built like a rhino that pulled us over, could ruin this feeling. We found the bankomat and hey presto we could eat again. More importantly we could buy fuel. Buying fuel meant going back past the DPS but it seemed that they had finished for the morning and gone home.
With money burning a hole in the safe, and fuel burning nicely away in Hugo we could head straight for the nearest border crossing, and by 9:55 Kazakh time (somewhere along the road we had lost an hour) we crossed into border land. Now if you believe everything that you read on the internet you will think that this is a long process taking up to 12 hours. This may be so on a regular weekday, but this early on a Sunday morning meant that we were through in about two hours. The border guards were extremely friendly and we had a laugh as they helped us fill out our forms. We had two moments of consternation. The first was when we were told to leave our car where it was and walk into Kazakhstan to secure the insurance and customs information. Then walk back to the car and drive it forward six feet to have it checked by customs. This was our second worry, because in the time that we had been there we had witnessed the customs officers very thoroughly go through *everything* that cars or foot passengers had. What luck, either our innocent faces or the prospect of going through everything that Hugo has stored in him convinced the customs guys that they really didn’t want to go there. They asked us whether we had a gun and cash, and when they were satisfied with our answers they sent us on our merry way to Kazakhstan.
I don’t remember the scenery changing but almost instantaneously we were out of the scrubs and farmlands of Russia and into the flat sparse dry steppes of Kazakstan. We hadn’t even made it into Oral (Uralsk) when we were stopped by the police. Feeling slightly aggrieved that we had got through Russia with minimal interference from boys in blue only to be stopped as soon as we entered Kazakhstan we rolled down our windows. They didn’t speak any English, but through the action of rolling up Gem’s window and pulling the tinting off we were able to gauge that tinting of any sort was not allowed on the front driver and passenger windows and we were not allowed to proceed onwards until Duncan (with his really short nails) had managed to pull the tinting off his window.
All we can say of Oral (Uralsk) is it must be a sprawling city on the river Ural, we were never able to find the city centre, any of the sights it stated that were worth seeing or a hotel. We had been stopped again and interrogated by the police and we had reached our tolerance point. So we drove on, foregoing the education that the most historically interesting city in Kazakhstan (according to our guide book) could give. The guidebook mentioned another town in the general direction that we were going so we headed that way, but never made it, instead we found the Presidential Hotel just outside a town called Federovka in northern Kazakhstan. We were tired, it was comfortable and cheap so we stayed. Federovka town is typical of the towns that we were to drive through or by during our time through north west Kazakhstan. Houses that are well maintained stand blasted by the heat, wind and dust of the summer. The dirt roads are well travelled on, the surface of dust loosened by each vehicle and falling victim to the strong wind. Geese, cows and horses wander throughout the town. Yet despite this there is a strong sense of community, the children laugh and play amongst the wagons of hay and climbing on the old tractors. They watch us closely out of curiosity knowing immediately they see us, that we don’t belong.
A storm chased us back into the hotel, where as it had been several days in the bush for us we showered and discovered that we weren’t as tanned as we had thought!
Somewhere along this mornings route the times had changed and we had no idea whether we were one or two hours difference, and each resource we consulted told us something else. We ended up having to text Mark in England who was thankfully able to google-ise it and text back. Not that it really matters I suppose, but it does explain why the hotel staff looked at us extremely strangely when we had asked whether we could have dinner, a lot earlier than the normal person would.
After a steak (of animal origin unknown, goose?, camel?, goat?) and fries we very thankfully to collapse into bed exhausted but ready to tackle Kazakhstan properly tomorrow.
