Soviet Style

I don't even know if Psy could do Soviet style justice. Yes, my friends, it still exists, 20 years after the Soviet Union ceased to exist (on the map, but maybe not completely in the Russian mind).

This morning, I dined with a stuffed bear over my shoulder. I am staying in the Radisson Slavyanskaya--a property surely converted from an old-school Soviet hotel. The public areas are immense, but dark and ill-decorated (note the bear). The staff is generally unhelpful and looks at you as if every question asked is the stupidist query in the world. For example, this morning, I asked a concierge and two bellmen where to find the AeroExpress ticket booth in the neighboring Kievskaya Train Station. This question seemed like a no-brainer--I imagine half of the people staying here do so because the hotel sits adjacent to the rail station, from which the express train to Vkunovo airport departs. Not one of the three had a clue. Now, to be fair to Radisson, it's not the brand. For the two previous nights, I stayed at the Radisson Blu Belorusskaya, a new-concept design hotel, and the visit, from the decor, to the staff, to the food, was just lovely.

(I would have stayed on, except the Belorusskaya did not have what the Slavyanskaya has....location, location, location...by the Kievskaya train station. Plus, for an English speaker laid up in bed for 24 hour straight (namely me), the Slavyanskaya certainly had more options on TV, including CNN, CNBC, TCM, BBC, and English versions of NHK, RT and CCTV, plus Eurosport. That said, I found myself drawn to a game show on the Italian RAI. My understanding of the wacky goings-on seemed to prove that the part of the brain that translates languages, once stimulated in a foreign environment, brings to the forefront previouly learned information. Look at me, a writer doing scientific experiments on the fly.)

But, after that digression of a parenthetical paragraph, you, dear reader, may question whether I am actually a writer. Back to our thesis. While you might not realize it from walking down Moscow's main shopping drags, now lined with the stores of luxury brands ranging from Hermes to Mikimoto, or by walking through GUM, the formerly glum shopping mall of chronic Soviet shortages, which is now a deluxe capitalist mecca, but Soviet style still exists, mainly in the form of the service mentality....or lack thereof.

Back in the days of the USSR, yessir, you had a job for life, regardless of your attitude. So, whether you were a hotel clerk, a waiter, or a flight attendant, it didn't really matter if you did your job well...or with pleasure. In talking with some Marriott executives in Moscow, they acknowledged that training staff to have a Western manner of hospitality is still a challenge. Actually, it wasn't a direct acknowledgement as much as a chuckle of agreement when I mentioned the rather dour attitude of the Russian staff that served the Trans-Siberian Express. Indeed, the representative from Lernidee, the operator of the tour, said that the German company does try to train the Russian staff it is handed at the beginning of the tourist season. But old dogs (even if they are young) don't easily learn new tricks....or new mentalities... overnight. With centuries of oppression, current day challenges and a Debbie Downer DNA working against them, it is not, as our tour guide Valeri pointed out, in the Russian nature to be smiley or effusive--especially if not fortified by vodka.

The Packing List

People often wonder how I can pack so light. True, I was unable to fit my gear into a carry-on for the three-week trek from Beijing to Moscow, but I still had less baggage than my fellow passengers. And I am heading back to the USA lighter than I started (suitcase--3 pounds lighter; body-10 pounds lighter) largely because 1/4 of my suitcase was reserved outbound for gluten-free snacks. All needed to be consumed for sustenance. And because I purchased no Monopoly games on this jaunt (more on that disappointing development in another post), I am heading back with space to spare.

Here's the packing list:

3 pairs of pants
2 pairs of shorts
3 dresses
2 pairs of sandals
2 pairs of loafers
1 pair of heels (necessary for one 2-hour business meeting-ouch)
6 T-shirts
2 long-sleeve tops
2 sweaters
1 windbraker
1 leather jacket
1 silk robe (not worn during trip--robes supplied on train and at hotels)
1 bathing suit (not worn)
Socks, underwear
2 pairs of comfy yoga pants

I also brought a shoebox full of hotel-sized amenities like shampoo, body wash and conditioner, most of which I didn't need to use.

I had 5 books with me--a Russian language book, which I studied diligently for an hour a day; Lonely Planet Moscow (albeit circa 1993); Lonely Planet Trans-Siberian (a new edition--not LP's greatest work); Bel Canto by Ann Patchett (my plane read on the way to Beijing); and Travels to Siberia by Ian Frazier. The latter was my train read and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Other than that, I had an umbrella, sunglasses, glasses, drugs and potions, a neck pillow, a butt supporter, mini-headphones, and a few notebooks....plus iPad,cameras, batteries, chargers, adaptors, credit cards, an ATM card, and my passport.

All were packed in a 26" Biaggi foldable suitcase, a small rucksack, and a purse.

Yes, I did break my three-pairs-of-shoes rule, largely due to my two-hour need for heels (I actually could have done without one pair of sandals--but they don't take much room, anyway). But other than that, I have to pat myself on the back for another packing job well-done.

Housekeeping Notes

Thursday/Friday

Shower, no towel

When will I get a new towel? I started this train journey on May 16th with four towels--two hand-size and two bath-size....if you are a size two...which I am. During the past week, towels have fallen by the wayside, variously being used to clean me, to mop up the floor after a shower (the bathroom does not have a separate shower area), etc. I am now down to one towel (plus the one I "borrowed" from the Beijing Kempinski in anticipation of a towel shortage on the train). Because I packed a silk robe bought in China years ago (and rarely worn), I am now contemplating using the terry-cloth robe supplied by the train company as a fifth towel.

A priceless bottle of voda

Water is another thing. Included in the $10,000-plus price tag is one bottle of water a day. That's right, one bottle. Mind you, the train's water is not potable, so one has to brush one's teeth with bottled water (and a toothbrush, of course), as well as using the liquid for hydration. If you want more water, you can buy it on the train or stock up during stops. Okay, fine. Except that the first three days of the train ride, our first-class cabin wasn't even getting its one measly bottle of water. Every night, we would beg and plead with the cabin attendant, who would look at us askance, but finally cede to our demands. I will say that the past two days, one lone daily bottle of water has appeared without incident.

On a very positive note, these cabin attendants are right on top of things when it comes to cleaning the compartments. The minute you head to breakfast, they are in your room stowing the bed and cleaning the bathroom (albeit without leaving new towels behind). They are very good about cleaning the waste basket throughout the day, which is an especially good thing as you are not allowed to flush toilet paper in the chemical toilets.

Tried to shave my legs this morning as the train was moving. Truly a feat of derring-do. That said, it was one of the few times when I didn't end up nicking my legs. Go figure.

TaTa Siberia, Hello, Tatarstan

Friday, Kilometre 780
Kazan, Tatarstan

After passing the divide between Asia and Europe in the midst of nightfall, we arrive in the capital of the Tatar capital of Kazan one and a half hours late. However, as we have a full day's program here, the relatively short delay causes no distress.

Despite this being our first official stop in the European part of Russia, it feels like we are still in Asia....or perhaps the Middle East. Muslims, who first came to this city in 925 AD, live peacefully side by side with their Russian Orthodox neighbors, as their houses of worship, located in the city's massive Kremlin, compete for attention.

A couple of notable occurrences here in Kazan--I had my first complete conversation in Russian. It went like this:
Me: Kak Delat? (How are you?)
Androgynous Andrei the Local Tour Guide: XopaIIIo (Harasho--Good). Kak delat?
Me: XopaIIIo.

That's it.

We were also regaled with music. At the retro Karavalle restaurant, we were treated to videos of Tom Jones from the 1970s and Madonna circa 1983. Afterwards, a visit to a music school provided the backdrop for a delightful series of impressive performances from young virtuosos. The 10-year-old violinist stole the show, but the other strings, the pianists, and the reeds were equally refined. It was lovely to sit back and listen to the classical music, without worrying about taking pictures or running the video camera. That said, I did capture a few snippets.

Finally, we saw the ubiquitous Lenin statue. In the Lenin slept here category, Kazan's claim to fame is a classic case of foreshadowing. The great revolutionary was expelled from Kazan University for his rebellious ways.

And now, ta ta Tatarstan. On to Moscow.

Tsarry, Tsarry Nights

Thursday Night, 9 PM (again)
Ekaterinburg, 1814 Kilometres

After more delays, totaling five hours, we reach Ekaterinburg or Yekatinburg at 9 in the evening. This time, though, we can actually see it. It doesn't get dark here until 11:30 PM.

Although still on the Asian side of the Urals, this is a very European city. People are fashionably-dressed, in terms of what passes as fashionable here (shorts worn with hose; many women sport stilettos, but unlike the Italians, they haven't quite mastered the art of walking without wobbling). 20-somethings are skateboarding, and at sunset, young lovers stroll the romantic walkway lining the city pond. It seems a very modern city, despite that fact that during the Cold War, the presence of the military and weapons manufacturing made this a closed city over which Boris Yeltsin presided in the late 1970s and early 1980s. At the time, it was called Sverdlovsk, named after one of Lenin's right-hand men.

The country's fourth largest city is best known for its pivotal role in 20th century Russian history. Nicholas II, the last tsar of Russia, was exiled here with his family after being deposed. The Bolsheviks then knocked off the last of the Romanovs here in 1918.

In the ultimate display of Catholic guilt, Nicholas was canonized after the fall of the Soviet Union in the early 1990s. The impressive Church upon the Blood was built in 2003 as a form of repentance, confession, and remembrance.

The pcitures above: That resembling the Washington Monument is an unfinished television tower. Its claim to fame is that it is the world's tallest unfinished TV tower. The green building serves at Vladimir Putin's home away from home when he visits Ekaterinburg, which happens about every other year.

One Night in Novosibirsk

Wednesday Night, 3343 Kilometre
Novosibirsk

One of the things I love about traveling behind the former Iron Curtain is that so many quirks still exist from those rather surreal days. Last night's stop in Novosibirsk, the capital of Siberia, provided that sense of deja vu as yet unexperienced in Russia.

As noted in a previous post, the visit itself was delayed for five hours. What was supposed to be a day-time city jaunt turned into a twilight and post-twilight tour. At 9 PM, we arrive at the very impressive train station, shaped like a train by Constructivist architects who apparently took their marching orders quite literally. Build a train station, they were told, and they built a station resembling a train. We stepped out in the damp cold to watch a cultural performance while standing in puddles. Although I have never stood in a puddle to watch such a performance, it nonetheless reminded me of the ones that were de rigueur on tours designed by Intourist, Cedok, Orbis and other state-run tourist agencies.

Actually, the performance was quite pleasant, as those things go. But the odd thing was when the performance ended, one of the girls picked up a pail and solicited donations. Now, THAT would have never happened in the Soviet Union. My companions and I thought it rather beyond the pale for a luxury trip. I have never observed performers, hired by a tour company to sing for their supper, passing the hat.

Dark Lenin

Moving along,
our bus couldn't get out of the parking lot for several minutes, as the gate was closed. So, by the time the city tour by bus started, it was 9:50 PM. First stop--a statue of Alexander III next to a span of Trans-Siberian Railway bridge. With light rapidly diminishing, we then drove through what dimly appeared to be a nondescript city. By the time we got to the main attraction, the largest theater in all of Russia, it was nearly pitch black. Apparently, there was a statue of Lenin in the courtyard, along with other sculptures
we couldn't see, except in dark silhouette. But our guide acted as we had night vision, pointing out details impossible to spot.

Then there was the propanganda pitch singing the praises of Novosibirsk as the country's third largest city, its third largest cultural center, and its third largest educational center. Apparently, it is also a Russian mecca for scientific research and the ballet school there is state-supported. We were encouraged by the guide to stay for a month, so that we could go to the ballet and opera and see 25 different performances for as little as 30,000 rubles (or $100) total. I do not recommend this idea.

My overall impression of Novosibirsk-- all in all, there really is nothing to see here, which is a good thing, because we couldn't see it.

Are We There Yet?

The next two posts are marked with the days they were written. However, no Internet connection has been available for nearly three days, so I am uploading them on Friday in Kazan. We are less than 900 kilometres from Moscow.

Wednesday, 5185 Kilometres: Today is the first long slog of this Trans-Siberian adventure and it's getting sloggier by the minute. Actually, the slog started yesterday at noon, when we boarded the train after an overnight at the Courtyard by Marriott (really) in Irkutsk. In the afternoon, there was an entertaining and educational vodka tasting, followed by rest and dinner.

Because we set clocks back two hours before bedtime, we had extra time to sleep in...to the point where when the figurative breakfast bell rang at 7:30, we were all ready to eat. We were then informed that, in addition to the two new hours gained in this time zone, we had fallen behind three hours overnight due to something or other on a bridge. I didn't really get it. But the bottom line is that our next excursion off the train... a visit to the drab Siberian capital of Novosibirsk...would be delayed from 4:00 to 7:00PM. It didn't seem like a big deal at the time, but as the day wore on, we got further and further behind schedule. Getting to this industrial center seemed to be becoming a pipe dream.

At 7 PM, our original departure time FROM Novosibirsk, we were informed that construction...or a derailment...or something...had caused a traffic jam on the tracks. But we would arrive in Novosibirsk..'round about 9 PM. We should be there any minute....or not.

That said, spending today, of all days, train-bound wasn't such a bad thing. For one, it's been raining all day. For two, the germs festered by Typhoid Marty, who had been hacking into the communal food since Day 1, had now reared its head in many of our throats. Third, my period came....of course. So, all in all, if 35 hours straight had to be spent on the train, this was one of the better times to do so.

After our stop tonight, our next stretch is scheduled for 21 hours. I shall write more during that time....about Novosibirsk, the Siberian Tea Party (not affiliated with the American political wingnuts), and about good housekeeping.