The Detouring Doctor

I wake bright and early with the sun very high in the sky already. All around are verdant gentle hills covered in pine forest. This is the Urals, the end of Europe and the gateway to Asian Russia. Officially it is 6 am as the whole of Russia is on Moscow time. Locally it is 3 hours later already.

Unfortunately the first shiny train seems to be a one off as I spend the night in an ancient rattler. Unprepared I have brought no food on board and there is no restaurant car on this one. I chow down on two minute noodles and coffee brought from the carriage attendant. More of a worry is that no water comes out of the washroom tap when I turn the handle. After a couple of hot and sweaty days without a shower I can barely endure my own smell so I improvise and use a cup of water cooled down from the samovar at the end of the coach and have a bird bath. I laugh the next morning to find that there is water residue in the wash basin and after some exploration find that while the knobs are useless pressing up on a bit of metal sticking out of the spout releases copious water.

I hit the streets of Yekatarinburg late morning again with bright sunshine. This city, surprisingly, is the fourth largest in Russia and the hub of the extensive mining industries that abound in the mineral rich Urals. In the late 1980s President Gorbachov promoted a certain Boris Yeltsin to the politburo and he took over as first president of the “new” Russia. This is not what I am here for. Students of history will know of the last Russian Tsar, Nicholas 11. As absolute ruler of Russia he conducted the military campaign of WW1 from the front lines. In the wake of the February revolution of 1917 where a coalition of socialist and communist parties assumed control he abdicated the throne and was placed under house arrest. Following the subsequent October 1917 Bolshevik revolution he and his family were eventually moved to Yekaterinburg in detention and ultimately they and their remaining loyal staff were herded into the cellar of the house where they were staying and mowed down in a hail of gunfire by the Bolsheviks. Their bodies were dumped and burned in a forest 16 km out of the city.

Graphic snippets of history such as these fascinate me and stay with me. Decades ago I determined that when I went to Russia I would seek out this place, not for any misplaced loyalty to the Tsars or any political reasons as the Romanov dynasty was an autocratic greedy repressive regime that cared less for the people and more for building the opulent palaces that I have already seen in St Petersburg. Its more to feel history, stand there, close my eyes and imagine. To augment the experience I am in the midst of reading a historical book of this time in Russian history and the book and being here perfectly complement each other.
I trudge up the hill to the spot, it nicely overlooks the whole city. Post Soviet Russia has built a massive new, beautiful Byzantine style church named the Church of the Holy Blood where the now destroyed house was. Marking the spot of the execution in the church’s ground is a metal orthodox cross and there is a tiny wooden church adjacent. As I wander in to there it is full with all of 5 people praying and the entrance has a tiny kiosk selling icons and framed pictures of Tsar Nicholas and Alexandra. Now this is no tourist town, in fact for my whole day there I see only 1 other tourist. This is for local consumption. Even more intriguing is that there is a police and army presence that I only saw at the Moscow Kremlin in Russia. It is still there when I walk back to catch the next train out in the evening.

Perhaps Chairman Mao’s most famous saying was “a journey of a thousand miles begins with one step”. So it is with me, the trans Siberian train journey of 10,000 km begins with the first station, Kazanskaya in Moscow. It is after 11 pm and there is a mixed set of emotions anticipation, anxiety all tinged with sadness as I farewelled my life partner who is flying home now.

Having traveled on trains in places such as Africa, India and China I am well prepared for anything and expecting the worst. In fact I am waved onto a new, clean train. My bunk has nice clean bedding and there is even a snack. I struggle with my overladen pack which is a miscalculation on my part that I will have to live with for the next four weeks and finally change into clean clothes and settle down for a restless night.

The next morning I find the restaurant car for breakfast. We cross the Volga river before arriving in Kazan in the late morning. The monster pack gets checked into left luggage at the station lugged away by a Russian lady muttering to her self about the weight of the thing and then I hit the road walking out to bright, hot sunshine for the first time. The thermometer eventually tips 30degrees and it is a sweaty day.
Kazan is the capitol of Tartaristan, the Muslim part of Russia. Once enemies of the Russian people they laid waste to most of Russia in the 11th and 12th centuries.They were eventually incorporated into Russia and have prospered. The attraction here is the 400 year old fortress (kremlin) perched high above a hill overlooking the Kazan River and the whole city.The sun reflects off the bright golden UNESCO heritage plate above the main gate and I wander through. There is no fee here and the tour groups are light on so I have a pleasant few hours exploring and photographing. The mosque is particularly beautiful and the coexistence with the Russian orthodox church here is particularly edifying.

Back onto the train tonight, sweatier and smellier despite my attempts at washing. No shower for days on end in civilisation will be a struggle.

Our final day in St Petersburg begins with 4 hours at the much hyped Hermitage museum. I love art but am by no means an afficionado.  Having said that I have been to the Louvre, Musee d’Orsay and the British Gallery as well as regularly seeing the special exhibits we get at the NGV at home. They say that the Hermitage has 3 million works of art and to see all of them and just spending 1 second to look would take one 11 years! I must admit I thought that the highlight of the tour will be the actual Winter Palace that it is housed in rather than the artworks themselves. How wrong could I be? This palace delivers in spades. It is an amazing collection of work from the old Italian masters to the present day and pretty much every famous artist you can think of is represented here. Like the rest of St Petersburg, mind boggling!!

Our afternoon tour was to a lesser attraction the Yusupov palace. This is an uninspiring yellow building set on one of the main canals from the outside. It is the family home of one of the prominent noble families in the Romanov empire. On the inside the opulence is once again dazzling but the real attraction here is in the basement, the very spot where the notorious Rasputin, monk, healer,probable lover of the Russian queen was invited to dinner on a fateful night in 1916. The nobility was growing increasingly anxious about Rasputin’s influence at court and a number of them decided to put an end to this. Felix Yusupov invited him for dinner. Rasputin survived the cyanide laced cakes so Yusupov shot him, Rasputin escaped and was shot again before finally being thrown into the icy canal. When is frozen body was recovered the autopsy revealed that his lungs were full of water, he survived the poisoning and shooting and was drowned.

An effective reconstruction in the basement brings the whole fascinating episode of history to life.

St Petersburg sits on the seas of the Gulf of Finland, part of the Baltic sea. This combined with its northerly latitude means that the weather here is mostly cloudy, grey and wet. Sadly our day at the Versailles of the north, Peterhof is marred by such weather. Nonetheless if there was no golden sunlight outside the dazzling gold leaf that adorns the interior more than makes up for it.

Commissioned by Peter the Great and added to by successive rulers it was unashamedly modelled on Versailles just outside France and the lavish interiors and outside fountains set in beautiful gardens mirror the original. Tragically this place was a casualty of WW2. During the siege of Leningrad German troops occupied Peterhof. As they were forced to retreat, the Nazis, in an act of cultural vandalism blew up the palace leaving it a wrecked shell. Fortunately, before the siege the Russians spirited away all of its precious contents. Now it is rebuilt and restored back to its opulent glory.

 

Fifty years on and the new tsar(ina) Catherine the Great tires of Peterhof. What to do? Build your own version a few miles away. This palace, Tsarskoe Selo, does allow photography inside.

It is just after 6 am and as I power walk through the park, camera in hand, all around are ethereal blobs of poplar fluff blowing in the air and underfoot. The place is deserted apart from a few Saint Petersburgers walking dogs and going for early morning jogs. The sun is shining brightly and this is one of the 60 sunny days that Saint Petersburg gets per annum. The two most annoying aspects of the trip so far are cloudy weather and the masses of tourists. My 3 hour sprint before breakfast removes both of these hassles and our central location means that I accomplish a great deal photographically. This city is nothing short of spectacular! We arrive at the Four Seasons Lion Palace Hotel to find we are in a magnificently restored nobleman’s palace. The decor, the rooms are easily the best I have ever stayed in.

The city itself was founded by Tsar Peter the Great in 1703 and it was not long before it took over as the capitol of the Russian empire from Moscow. While revolutions and civil wars throughout Europe and UK resulted in curbing of the powers and the excesses of the monarchies. No such “convulsions” happened in Russia until early in the 20^th century the extra couple of centuries of unfettered excess by the Tsars has created an opulent city beyond imagination. Clearly the Bolshevik revolution of 1917 and the German invasion during WW2 put a major dent in all of that but in the post Soviet years much restoration and reconstruction has ensued.

The gold dome of St Isaac Cathedral dominates the skyline here and is only 2 minutes walk away.

  Built between 1818 and 1858 the views from the cathedral colonnade across the city are amazing.

Reminding us that this is a naval city:

Sometimes called the “Venice of the north” the city has a maze of canals. Initially built to minimise the risk of flooding to the city, they now form a major tourist attraction with cruises and some nice photo opportunities as well.

 

Of course it is not without its share of churches:

 

But above all it is the palaces that define this place with two of the most magnificent ones a short drive away to feature in the next blog.

 

Finally there are the museums and my favourite one celebrates the easter eggs made for the Tsar to give as a present to his wife. Handmade and jewel encrusted by Carl Faberge in the late 19th century these decadent pieces truly dazzle. Enjoy!

Student’s of history will know that the classical Tsarist name for this city was Saint Petersburg, The Soviets changed it to Leningrad. Having seen this place it can never be a Leningrad with the grey, soulless vibe that that conjures up. This is and always will be the exuberant, extravagant masterpiece of the Tsars over 300 years from its founding in 1703.

Finland is a country shaped by water. Inland it is lakes dotted profusely throughout, better appreciated from the air when flying in to Helsinki airport. Around Helsinki it is the sea that has carved out hundreds of small islands that form holiday playgrounds for the city’s residents.

It is Saturday and the small ferry is filled to capacity with locals. Picnic rugs, strollers and dogs on leads far outnumber tourists  on the 15 minute trip to Suomenlinna Island. This World Heritage site has a historic fortress dating back to 1748. Strategically located at the mouth of the main waterway to Helsinki it has been added to over the centuries and the last of the armed forces only left here in 1973.

Now it is a beautifully preserved park with grassy meadows, well preserved fortifications, museums and cafes.

It is mid summer and a fresh but sunny 18C, clothes are coming off and bikini clad women lie on the tiny patch of brown sand that qualifies for a Helsinki beach. I do not see anyone brave the chilly waters of the Baltic sea, though. Finnish society is very much shaped by the unique geography of this country. There is a very obvious Scandinavian vibe to this place, distinctly different in look and feel from neighbouring Europe and Russia. Geopolitically the Finns have struggled with the fact that they are wedged between Sweden and Russian. Up until the early 1800s the more powerful Swedes controlled this country there is no love loss between the two countries. War with Russia resulted in Russia taking over and once again the poor Finns were an occupied nation. In 1917 after the Russian Revolution Finland finally gained independence. Until 1991 it was an uneasy existence, sharing a land border with the USSR the Finns measured their political pronouncements regarding Russia betraying an undercurrent of anxiety that the “big bear” may one day attack.

The other factor that shapes this society is the climate. We are very near the arctic circle, in fact Santa Claus lives in this country. More than 6 months of the year it is freezing cold and the country is blanketed in snow. At that time the sun rises at 10 am and sets around 2 pm. Right now the reverse is true, the sun sets after 11 pm and rises around 4 am. Each morning here the sun is high and blazing in our room by 5 am forcing us to draw the blinds to snatch a couple more hours of sleep. The cuisine reflects the long cold winter. There is no animal husbandry so meat is light on. Seafood is plentiful in the summer months as are vegetables including fields full of berries in particular. In the winter even the sea freezes over. Hence the variety of pickled foods and salted and cured fish to sustain one over the winter months.

Enough of my take on this country. I must say that I find this to be a pleasant orderly society. The streets are clean the people pleasant and helpful and the pragmatic Finns decided long ago to adopt English as their second language as their own languages is fiendishly impossible for an outsider to master. Nonetheless the way to really get a big broad warm smile out of a local is to say “kiitos” (pronounced as written) instead of thank you, they love it! This is one of the world’s most liveable cities albeit fiendishly expensive a la the rest of Scandinavia. Take a look at Helsinki.

 

My second son forewarned me, Estonian women are the most beautiful in the world he avers. I can confirm his comment although sometimes battling the crowds of particularly ugly cruise ship tour groups that now frequent the tiny capitol city of Tallinn it can be hard to spot any locals at all.

Arriving at Tallinn international airport we cruise through immigration in less than 5 minutes and our bags are already there. Customs similarly a breeze and a few short minutes later we are in our taxi covering the mere 4 km to our central city hotel. Would have to be the easiest international arrival ever!

The Estonians laboured under the heavy yoke of Soviet rule and was a broken economic backwater at the collapse of the Soviet Union. Now it is booming economically with a particular emphasis on the “e economy” and has been described as a Baltic tiger. Tourism is also a heavy earner as it is now a par of the many Baltic cruise itineraries and is a favourite stopoff for two main reasons. Firstly the tourist “Old City” is small and compact and easily covered in 1 day even with the masses of humanity disgorged from the cruise ships that clog the narrow laneways. Secondly it is incredibly beautiful. The best thing to do here is just wander get lost in the winding narrow cobble stoned lanes and enjoy the views.

 

Our final morning in Moscow opens with sunshine and blue skies and sees me playing catchups for all that we lost through bad weather. A very early breakfast, of course caviar again but without the champagne then across the road for a picture of the famous Bolshoi ballet theatre and a metro trip out to one of Moscow’s top attractions the Novodevichy convent. Suzanne parts ways with me and indulges in her favourite past time, shopping. Somehow at the moment Moscow churches seem out to frustrate me. The other day it was the indefinite defacto closure of Christ the Saviour, today the church at Novodevichy is closed and covered with scaffolding for renovations.

 

   

I meet up with Suzanne for one final time in Red Square and this time we successufully visit Lenin’s mausoleum. The degree of preservation is really quite amazing and I am struck by the fact that he actually cut a handsome figure much softer than the hard steely eyed Lenin statutes that adorned all of the former Soviet Union. The experience here is less rushed than I remember at Mao’s mausoleum many years ago. There are 5 embalmed Communist dictators world wide. I have seen Lenin and Mao. I missed Ho Chi Minh when I was in Hanoi as he was in Moscow for his annual touch up when I was there. I missed the 2 Kims in Pyongyang when I was there as it was closed in preparation for the recently deceased Kim Jong Il. So close to achieving an unusual “collector’s” set!