From: karen

Sent: Wednesday, 19 September 2007 12:28 AM

Subject: Postcard from Russia

How do you respond to a marriage proposal after a few vodkas on the transiberian? Very carefully, when it is from a sizeable Russian and on the first night of a 3 day rail journey.

Although not as passionate in quite the same way as my large Siberian friend, the Muscovites and locals of St Petersburg spoke vigorously about their country, its history and its future. The Kremlin guide proud of his city's beautiful old buildings declared of Stalin's buildings that 'Russia had the stupidest communists in the world.' Although he viewed Stalin nonetheless to be a 'humble' criminal, given the simple Kremlin building he chose to reside in.

In St Petersburg our guide Sergei spoke with great emotion of his family's tragic losses from starvation during the city's siege in WW2. His grandmother dragging the body of his grandfather on a sled and burying him with her own hands, a task she was too sick to perform when her mother died soon after.

The fervent patriotism and pride of the Russians was evident too in the painstaking restoration and reconstruction of their stunning architecture. The unbelievable wonder of the Amber Room at Catherine's Palace, the landscaped gardens full of elaborate fountains and sculptures at Peter's Palace, and the soaring majesty of the Church of Our Saviour Cathedral in Moscow (a swimming pool during Stalin's time, and where I was inundated with holy water during a morning service), spoke of grandeur and wealth. A wealth which appeared, and we were told, belonged only to the very few, such as the mafia of St Petersburg in their Hummers, Mercedes and Ferraris. Obvious on the city streets not so much by their Italian suits but by the armed personal guards accompanying them.

Russian passion was also evident in their art, especially at the Fine Arts Museum in Moscow, their haunting music and their adoration of their literary greats, such as Pushkin. It is less evident in their customer service; the menu on the transiberian appeared comprehensive until you understood that most of the dishes had nyet hope of appearing on the table. The delicious still warm meat pastries bought from a Babushka on one of the many station stops, the culinary highlight of the rail trip.

The entire restaurant car full of Russians joining me in a stirring vodka toast to the Kylie Minogue and Nick Cave duet that was playing the funniest moment. The saddest moment undoubtedly was a couple of Russians predicting a revolution of some sort in the future, as the gap between the poor and wealthy widens. We were told that in some rural areas basic services such as electricity have now disappeared with kerosene lamps back in use.

From the passionate Russians, via the stylish Finns of Helsinki, now in the big exciting metropolis that is London.

K
xxx
...................................................................................

From Karen 14/09/2007
Hi Colin,

Second day here in St Petersburg - really enjoyed the drive out to the palaces - sensational, especially the Amber Room in Catherine's Palace.

My ePostcards to friends have already elicited a couple of queries from people wanting to do the same tour. (ePostcards follow - please excuse the typos. I am an ex-journo but never done any travel writing so excuse the quality also).
Only dramas I've had have been with the worry about the health and safety of my uncle with some of his antics - the tour guides and homestays have been great.
Hope all well with you and have a great weekend,

Karen

====================================
Beijing

Does a few glasses of Great Wall red wine help or hinder when using Chinese toilets in the middle of the night whilst the bogies are being changed on the train at the Mongolia border? The jury is out, although the second bottle was definitely better than the first shared with a couple from Perth in the restaurant car.

It was the night the bogies change went badly as it was 3 extra hours of whistle blowing, fiddling with the bogies and the train going back and forth before we finally crossed the border into Mongolia at Zamyn-Uud in the wee small hours.

We left behind the country where they talk like they're singing and write like they're painting. The Forbidden City in Beijing and the many treasures over 800 palaces held included beautiful scrolls, some as ancient as 260 AD.

Across the jam packed 12 lane road (that I talked my uncle out of an attempt at hurdling the barrier and jaywalking) where luxury European cars jostled with bicycles and the odd rickshaw, at Tiananmen Square everything was massive in scale. The surrounding buildings of Chairman Mao's Mausoleum, the Great Hall of the People, and the Monument to the People's Heroes made less of a political statement at night when lit up and filled by families strolling the warm, humid night and flying kites.

The stern faces of guards posted outside heavily secured government buildings contrasted with the smiling faces and young lovers embracing on the wide wide pavements. A dozen people astride plus the odd motorbike and car were accommodated on the pavements of the huge city blocks that took many minutes to walk.

Preparation for the Olympic Games next year were visible everywhere including signs in shops to change local behaviour (translation via a 3rd party):
"We're happy we line up"
"The colour and design go perfectly with your shape"
And a no no
"You are crazy."

The streets and the impressively clean and English signposted subway were filled with the young and the fashionable many of them able to speak English to some degree. However, when labouring up the steep path to the Great Wall at Simitai, it was a tiny, wizened 62 year old farmer who gently took my hand for the treacherous parts (that our guide had told us several tourists had plummeted off the side), and fanned me with an ornate fan - that naturally he tried to sell to me. Beijing was a beguiling mix of the new and young China with its rich cultural heritage, whilst also the showpiece of Mao. The old and bleak poor farming areas of China were visible from the train yesterday as were several kilometres of the Great Wall (but no rabbits). Today the vast, desolate plains of the Gobi Desert with the odd small group of camels, goats, sheep and ponies pass by the restaurant car window. I'm enjoying the local Mongolian Lager under a very serious bow and arrow set that decorates the wall of our restaurant car.

Siberia

How do you end up on the local TV news in Siberia? Walking along Lake Baikal, a huge inland lake holding 20% of the world's fresh water supply, an ACNT TV crew stopped to ask about our impressions of the area as tourist. I hope we were translated correctly and they edited out all my laughter at our tour guide's attempts at directing us. Not 100% comfortable about participating in a media without free speech. The transMongolian train disembarking at Irkutsk involved a lot of hugging and kissing of new friends. I hope the four actresses - an Austrian, Swede, Spaniard and Pom - travelling in the compartment next to ours, do visit Australia as discussed.

The Lake Baikal area in Siberia was virtually unscathed by Soviet architecture. The Listvyanka village was filled with traditional log houses, with carved and brightly painted window frames. The gardens filled with chrysamenthems, daisies, and dalias, and the bakeries chocker with the most divine pastries - banana, chocolate, cabbage, meat and fish. But little reminders of where we were popped up occassionally ... the soldier in combat gear with an automatic rifle slung casually over his shoulder who strolled into the guesthouse restaurant at lunch. And a fellow traveller who visited the parents of one of the local guides - gobsmacked to find they lived on a nearby military base with nuclear warheads.

Then it was 3 days on the famous trans-siberian train - number 9 - and here in Moscow .......

From: Jill
Sent: Monday, 16 July 2007 5:23 PM
To: Colin Hood
Subject: RE: your flights