Chernobyl

I’ve been really excited about this day ever since I started planning the Russia trip. This morning I took the metro from Livoberezhna station to Maydan Nezalezhnosti (Independence Square), where I met up with a tour group heading to Chernobyl. Just the thought of visiting Chernobyl seems ludicrous, and most people wouldn’t believe you actually can. I don’t remember exactly how I got interested in visiting Chernobyl, but I vaguely remember reading a National Geographic article a year or two ago about Chernobyl, and when planning a short side trip for my Russia excursion, I decided to see if visiting Chernobyl would be feasible. I was surprised to learn that there are several small travel agencies that offer day trips to Chernobyl from Kiev, and to make a long story short, that’s what I wound up doing today.

After a brief stop at a Ukrainian bakery in Maydan Nezalezhnosti, I headed off on one of two small tour busses with a group of about 30 others. I dozed off for a while during the two hour drive to the site, and when I woke up a documentary titled ‘The Battle of Chernobyl’ was playing inside the bus. Most of the information was familiar, either because I had read it on Wikipedia or because I learned it during my visit to the Chernobyl Museum in Kiev yesterday, but there were a few tidbits of information that were fascinating. For example, when the accident occurred, the Soviet Union tightly controlled information related to it to the extent that virtually nobody knew anything seriously wrong had happened. In fact, the outside world knew nothing about the disaster until Swedish engineers at one of their own nuclear plants measured abnormally high radioactivity in the surrounding air. It was only when the Swedes spoke up about the newly discovered radioactive material that the Soviet Union admitted an accident had occurred at one of their plants, spewing radioactive waste into a giant cloud that was spread across most of Europe. A few days after the disaster a journalist from Kiev hired a helicopter to fly over the plant and discovered a massive, gaping, charred hole where Chernobyl nuclear reactor #4 once was. I can only imagine what it must have been like to have been the first outsider to see that.

Our first stop on the tour was at a town called Chernobyl, which is about 10 miles from the plant. Inside one of the buildings our Ukrainian guide presented a giant map of the area to us, and described to us that two ‘exclusion zones’ exist surrounding the plant; one that encloses everything within a 30 kilometer radius of the plant, and a second, inner exclusion zone that encloses everything within a 10 kilometer radius. To get to the town of Chernobyl we had to pass through a checkpoint at the entrance to the outer exclusion zone where all of our passports were checked, and later in the day we would pass through a second checkpoint at the entrance to the inner exclusion zone. Our guide turned out to have a great sense of humor, and he dryly told us in his mediocre English that because he works in the exclusion zone every day, where radioactive material is present, he actually is getting younger; he is actually 31 but feels like he’s 23 or 24. Nobody realized he was joking at first and the room was awkwardly silent until the man spoke up again, “Is a joke.” He also joked that because he was such a lazy student in school, his English is terrible. “So sorry”, he said.

Before leaving the building we were obliged to sign a document stating the conditions of entering the exclusion zone. One of the many conditions was that we would not hold the management of the exclusion zone liable for radioactive contamination of any camera equipment we took with us.

Originally all inhabitants of the town of Chernobyl were evacuated and prohibited to ever return. Eventually, though, several of the older citizens made their way back to the town and settled into their own homes; refusing to leave their ‘motherland’. The Ukrainian government subsided and the citizens were allowed to stay. Today the government takes a few precautions to ensure the safety of the residing citizens. For example, scattered around the town of Chernobyl are LED displays that indicate the latest radioactivity readings from various spots in the area. As we passed one such display it seemed unbelievable to me that those readings are part of everyday life for the people in the town. Another site in Chernobyl contained a small yard where a few different tanks and military vehicles used in clean-up operations were stored. The equipment is unusable because it is highly radioactive, so the government has left it sitting in a grassy field near the town. Our guide took out his Geiger counter to show us a ‘normal’ level of radioactivity in the air: 12 microroentgens per hour. He then put the counter against the tread of one of the tanks. The reading shot up to 750 microroentgens per hour.

Our next stop was at a section of a nearby river where boats used in clean-up operations had been laid to rest. Apparently the boats were used to transport stone and sand to the site of the disaster to be used to extinguish the smoldering radioactive fire. After the boats were used they had to be disposed of due to high levels of radioactivity, so the government left them sitting in an inconspicuous spot in the river. I respect the Ukrainian people for their sense of responsibility in extinguishing the radioactive fire and containing the disaster, but it seems so irresponsible to me that those radioactive boats are still sitting in a river 24 years later! It’s even more unbelievable to me that they allow tour groups to visit the site and see their radioactive waste sitting in the water. I’m sure they must know that the boats present a hazard to anyone downstream, but I imagine they must not have the resources to adequately remove them… or perhaps they just have higher priorities related to the continual maintenance of the Chernobyl site.

Our next visit was the grounds of the Chernobyl power plant itself. The nearby plant quickly came into view and we made a few stops along the way to see various Chernobyl facilities from a short distance. Among the facilities were several were never fully constructed, due to the disaster and evacuation. A couple of those facilities included partially constructed water cooling towers. Also, we saw a massive partly constructed nuclear reactor that was abandoned because the design was identical to reactor 4, the one that exploded. Twenty-four years after the disaster the unfinished structure still looks like a construction site; complete with several large cranes that were left behind.

Our guide mentioned a few facts about Chernobyl that were pretty shocking to me. At the time of the disaster, Chernobyl consisted of four nuclear reactors and two additional reactors under construction. Reactors 1 and 2 were shut down long before the disaster due to safety incidents and serious concerns about continuing to operate them. Reactors 5 and 6 were under construction at the time and due to open shortly after the disaster occurred, but never opened because they were identical to reactor 4 and flaws in the design contributed to the explosion. The most shocking fact of all was that reactor 3 was also identical to reactor 4, but continued operating for another 14 years, and was only shut down in 2000 after enormous pressure from the international community.

Reactor 4 is currently covered by a gigantic concrete ‘sarcophagus’ that was constructed to contain the radioactive material. However, the sarcophagus is deteriorating and leaking material, necessitating plans to construct a $1.7 billion containment facility over the top of it that will be completed in 2013. I have to admit that I’m glad I saw Chernobyl now, before an additional layer of protection is constructed over the top of it. The sarcophagus is in terrible condition and obviously deteriorated; to me it resembled the decay and destruction that took place at Chernobyl. I doubt that the new containment facility will illustrate that.

After a few pictures from about a half-mile away we drove closer to spend a few minutes only a hundred yards or so from the plant. Our time there was very limited due to the risk of exposure to radioactivity, and after only about 5 minutes, a police officer came out of a nearby building and told us it was time to leave the area.

The most fascinating stop of the day was at a nearby ghost town named ‘Pripyet’. Pripyet was built in 1970 to house the families of the Chernobyl workers. Pripyet is less than 2 miles from the plant and was highly contaminated during the disaster. Shortly after the disaster occurred inhabitants of Pripyet were told they were to temporarily evacuate the city, and they were given 2 hours to collect their personal belongings and board government busses taking them away from the area. None of Pripyet’s citizens were ever allowed to return. Our guide spent about 2 hours taking us to the most fascinating parts of the city, and I have to say it is the most thorough and most fascinating visit I have ever made to any ghost town. Our first visit was to the top of an abandoned hotel, where we enjoyed views of the entire area; including views of Chernobyl. Next we visited a gigantic abandoned shopping mall, then a small amusement park.

To me the amusement park was the most saddening part of the entire visit. The park was built by the Soviet government as a reward to the citizens of Pripyet for the completion of nuclear reactor 4. It was due to open on May 1, 1986, and included a ferris wheel with bright yellow gondolas, bumper cars, and motorized swings, among a few other rides. To me the park was symbolic of the sense of accomplishment, optimism, and general desire to enjoy life that the citizens of Pripyet must have felt. When the disaster occurred on April 26, 1986, only a few days before the park was scheduled to open, the citizens of Pripyet left behind everything; including the new amusement park that they would have enjoyed with their families.

Other visits in Pripyet included a sports facility with a full basketball court and a gigantic, empty pool complete with diving platforms and huge windows to let in plenty of natural light, a shopping mall that had been newly constructed just before the disaster, and an elementary school that was littered with hundreds of Soviet-era schoolbooks, as well as hundreds of gas masks in one of the rooms (apparently the gas masks were used by the school kids for emergency training during the Cold War). Everything in Pripyet had been completely destroyed by the elements, and was overgrown with trees and weeds. Fully grown trees had burst straight through the asphalt in streets and schoolyards, and weeds and small trees even grew from the interior rooms at the tops of the buildings. Our final visit was to a small grassy field containing a gigantic metal claw. Our guide informed us that the claw was used to remove radioactive material from Chernobyl. He told us it was not safe to approach the claw, but he ran up to it himself just long enough to get a reading on his Geiger counter. The reading was 18,000 microroentgens per hour; 1,500 times the safe level of radioactivity.

On our way back to Kiev we stopped in the town of Chernobyl, where we had a quick dinner and measured ourselves for radioactivity to verify that none of us had become dangerously contaminated. When exiting the exclusion zone we were each measured once again; this time by a gigantic Soviet-era machine somewhat resembling an airport metal detector.

Visiting Chernobyl felt a lot like visiting North Korea last year. It’s a place that is very unique and a bit bizarre, and most people would never believe that outsiders are allowed to visit. Also, both places left me feeling glad I had visited to gain a better understanding of the place, but also feeling sympathetic towards the citizens. Chernobyl had been an accomplishment for communism; and while I clearly don’t agree with communist ideals myself, I still feel sympathy for those who created Chernobyl and hoped to provide a better future for themselves and their nation. Those people must have felt so proud of what they had accomplished, and so devastated when the disaster occurred.

Kiev

Experiencing Kiev has been a nice benefit of my excursion from Russia to visit Chernobyl. This morning I took a taxi from the archaic ‘Hotel Slavutich’, the Soviet-era hotel I’m staying in while in Kiev, to Livoberezhna station, where I rode the metro into the center of the city. I had heard great things about Kiev before I came, and while it still feels underdeveloped, I was amazed at the golden-domed architecture of the various monasteries and cathedrals I spotted while riding into the city.

My first visit of the day was to St. Michael’s Monastery, a beautiful blue church with gold domes that was originally built in 1108, but rebuilt in 2001 after the Soviets tore it down in 1937. Murals of Jesus and his disciples line the walls leading to the entrance of the monastery, and the walkway into the grounds leads beneath a gigantic gold-domed bell tower. I spent a half-hour or so enjoying the grounds of St. Michaels – taking time to wander through the interior and circle the church; passing several monks dressed in black on the way – then headed back out and down the street to one of Kiev’s most famous sites: St. Sophia’s Cathedral.

St. Sophia’s Cathedral is a large whitewashed church with green accents and gold domes at the top. As I wandered through the interior of the church I passed by several 11th century mosaics, including a few original mosaics on the floor. It’s always interesting to me as I discover such artwork to myself to imagine what life must have been like for those who originally created it. The interior of the cathedral was cavernous, but let in plenty of natural light that lit up the gold-covered artwork and statues at the front of the cathedral. While wandering upstairs I found a 20th century art exhibit; an entire wall of intricately painted Ukrainian eggs forming a larger mosaic of the Virgin Mary. The piece was titled ‘Looking Into Eternity’, and was by a famous Ukrainian artist named Oksana Mas. The grounds of the cathedral also house the mansion formerly used by the metropolitans of Kiev (I’m assuming that the metropolitan was equivalent to a governor or mayor). The most interesting features of the mansion to me were the heating stoves in each room covered in intricately painted tiles, and the imported white marble tiles covering the floor in one of the rooms (imported tile must have been an incredible luxury during the time the mansion was used).

My favorite of the three churches I visited today was St. Andrew’s Church, which sits at the top of Andriyivsky Uzviz; a picturesque cobblestone street winding down a hillside in Central Kiev. The interior of St. Andrew’s Church was much the same as the other Ukrainian and Russian Churches I’ve visited – featuring gold-covered artwork at the front, several statues of angels and cherubim, and a wide tiled expanse with no pews for visitors to stand in while worshiping – but the real reason I enjoyed it was because of the exterior architecture. St. Andrew’s features dark green domes with golden accents that are very uniquely shaped and seem so exotic to me for some reason. I spent several minutes on a staircase leading up to St. Andrews snapping pictures, trying to capture what the architectural wonder really looks like.

After wandering to the bottom of Andriyivsky Uzviz I located the nearby Chernobyl Museum. All the exhibits were in Ukrainian, but I paid 50 extra hryvnia to rent an English audio guide that brought the museum to life. Although the museum was small, I spent over an hour inside observing each of the exhibits and listening to the audio description. Several exhibits were dedicated to the heroes of Chernobyl, who sacrificed their lives to stay on the site during the disaster and prevent further nuclear explosions. After passing by several cases displaying ID cards and photographs of the various engineers and other personnel at the plant, I watched a few short documentaries. One of them showed the excitement and optimism of the new workers at the plant when it opened in 1977, then contrasted it with the disappointment felt in 2000 when the workers carried out orders by the Ukrainian president to turn an emergency shut-off key that would shut the plant down forever. Other exhibits included a model of Chernobyl nuclear reactor 4 with a description of how it operated and what went wrong, and pictures of pine tree branches in the vicinity of Chernobyl that had been mutated due to radioactive exposure.

For many visitors, Kiev’s most intriguing visit is to a network of underground tunnels beneath cathedrals in a complex called ‘The Lavra’. The Lavra contains several exquisite Ukrainian cathedrals housed within whitewashed walls, but I took only a few minutes to duck into them so that I could get to the underground tunnels before they closed at 4:30. A narrow staircase led me beneath one of the cathedrals at the Lavra, and I followed several Ukrainian worshipers through the tiny whitewashed tunnels as their thin yellow candles flickered in front of me. The tunnels contain several mummified monks laid inside glass coffins set in niches in the sides of the tunnels. The monks are covered in intricately decorated tapestries and aren’t visible, but many of the Ukrainian visitors to the tunnels apparently believe that kissing coffin near the feet or faces of the monks will heal them of various ailments. There was an odd combination of eeriness and reverence inside the quiet tunnels, and I passed by several worshipers as they placed their thin, tall candles at various shrines and kissed the glass coffins of the monks. Exploring the underground tunnels at the Lavra with the Ukrainian worshipers was definitely one of those moments when I asked myself, ‘How in the world did I end up here?’ I like those moments.

I finished off my day at a tasty Ukrainian restaurant named ‘Pervak’ that was highly recommended in my Lonely Planet book. I splurged on dinner tonight and ordered borsch with pampushkas, ‘veal a-la ancient Kiev’ (veal with cherries baked in a honey-mustard sauce), two Pervak cranberry concoctions, and ice cream baked inside a pear covered with flaky crust and fruit sauce for dessert. I have to say that it was one of the more delicious meals I’ve had while traveling. I’ve become so conditioned to traveling on as tight a budget as possible that often times I overlook colorful experiences like eating at a nicer restaurant abroad. I’m thinking that now that I’m working and don’t have to be so conscious of that, I might have a lot more dinners while traveling like the one I had at Pervak.

Museum of Cosmonauts

The Moscow subway is growing on me. Getting hopelessly lost a few hundred feet underground the other day was frustrating, and it didn’t help that there were very few signs and all of them were in Russian, but after getting used to it I actually really like it. The network of tunnels is very comprehensive and has been able to get me nearly everywhere I’ve wanted to go in Moscow; and besides that, the many murals of Lenin, the hammer and sickle icon, and even Stalin are an exotic touch.

This morning I took a train a station in the north outskirts of Moscow to visit a gigantic complex built by the soviets called the ‘All-Russia Exhibition Center’. Before exploring the place though, I happened to pass by the ‘Memorial Museum of Cosmonauts’, which I had intended to visit anyway. The Memorial Museum of Cosmonauts is Russia’s premiere museum dedicated to their space program; similar to the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum, but more modern and dedicated exclusively to space flight. I have to say that the Museum of Cosmonauts is probably the most amazing space museum I’ve ever visited; possibly even better than the Air and Space Museum in Washington DC. The exterior of the museum is a gigantic monument, featuring a shiny metal statue of a rocket soaring into the air, and bronze murals at the bottom depicting the accomplishments of the Russian space program. When I walked inside I was instantly surrounded by Soviet satellites, space suits, and even a couple of embalmed dogs that had been to space. I’m sure that many of the artifacts in the museum would have been instantly recognizable had I been able to read the descriptions, but unfortunately the placards were only in Russian. Still, the museum was incredibly well done and I spent nearly two hours wandering slowly through the place. A few other notable exhibits included detailed models of Soviet rockets and launch pads, capsules that had been used by cosmonauts to return from space, and a small Soviet flag carried by the Americans to the moon with an accompanying plaque from Richard Nixon presenting the flag as a gift to the Soviet Union.

A short walk from the Museum of Cosmonauts took me to the entrance of the All-Russia Exhibition Center. The center is a giant complex of buildings built by the Soviets in the 1930’s, then expanded in the 50’s and 60’s to serve as a showcase for Soviet economic success. I didn’t know quite what to expect before I visited the place, but I guess I hoped to find a collection of exhibits that had been sitting around at the place since the soviets created them. As I walked into the complex through a gigantic arch resembling Brandenburg Gate, a huge fairgrounds-type atmosphere came into view. A handful of small amusement park rides were spread throughout the place, and cheap food kiosks and souvenir stalls were everywhere. The most impressive part of the complex was easily a gigantic Soviet-era building that obviously served as the center of the All-Russia Exhibition Center. A large statue of Lenin greeted me in front of the building, and bronze communist friezes and hammer and sickle emblems decorated the outside of it. The inside of the building was an incredible surprise. As I walked inside, I realized that what once was likely a cavernous, impressive interior had been converted to accommodate hundreds of cheap shops and food stalls. The place was a run-down shopping mall! After walking through the building for a few minutes to get a feel for things, I headed back outside and contemplated the symbolism of the place. It seems incredibly ironic that the All-Russia Exhibition Center was built as a monument to showcase the successes of communism, but since has become an unintentional monument to Russia’s underdeveloped capitalism. If Lenin could see it he’d roll in his grave (or his mausoleum… another incredible irony).

I spent another hour or so wandering through the grounds and stepping inside a few of the other buildings. Originally each building had been dedicated to some aspect of accomplishment or culture within the Soviet Union, but now each of the buildings is just like the first one I visited; an old, run-down shopping mall. One of the buildings I entered was very intricate on the outside (yet also very decrepit), but on the inside was entirely abandoned. I took a few steps inside the place and peeked into one of the gigantic rooms in the interior. I have to admit it was a bit creepy being in an old, abandoned soviet-era building in Russia, but it was interesting for me to imagine what the place must have been like when it was originally built. I wonder what kind of exhibits and events were once there. The soviets must have had great plans and expectations of the place; it’s unfortunate that all it amounts to now is a testament to the failed experiment of communism.

I took an elevated train a few miles down from the All-Russia Exhibition Center to a place recommended in my Lonely Planet guide book called ‘Ostankino Palace’, but unfortunately it was closed when I got there (apparently for renovation). One of my favorite parts of traveling, though, is the serendipity of it all, and I wandered into a Russian Orthodox church nearby to observe the service being held inside. Of course it was much like the one I saw yesterday at Danilovsky Monastery, but it was fun to see one in a different part of the city just to see how much is consistent from place to place. Another unexpected benefit of my excursion to the closed Ostankino Palace was an incredible view of the gigantic Ostankino TV Tower. The design of the tower is imposing and distinctly soviet, and it must be at least 1000 feet tall. Apparently the public was once permitted inside the tower (I would have absolutely loved that), but unfortunately it has been closed to the public since a fire in the 1990’s.

A quick ride on the metro took me from the north outskirts of Moscow to the south outskirts, where I visited the Kolomenskoe Museum. Kolomenskoe is an ancient royal country seat, and a UNESCO world heritage site as well. To be honest, I was expecting more from a UNESCO site, but the place was mildly impressive and a fun way to get out of the city and see a different side of Moscow. After walking through the well-kept grounds of the place I arrived at a towering 16th century cathedral appropriately called ‘Ascension Church’. The church is unique looking in that it is made of brick and white-washed on the outside, but lacks the distinctive domes that are present on so many other Russian churches. The inside of the church housed a small room for Russian Orthodox worship (surprisingly similar to the other Russian Orthodox churches I had visited), and near the church were several other structures, including a 16th century water tower.

I had to catch a flight to Kiev at 10:35 tonight, so I had to hurry back to Moscow to collect my stuff from the hostel and get out to the airport, but I had just enough time for a stop at one last essential spot in the city. The State Tretyov Gallery is Moscow’s premiere collection of Russian art and icons. I had enough time to spend about an hour in the museum, which wasn’t nearly enough to do it justice, but it still was in interesting insight into Russian culture and history. The most distinctive impression I had while wandering through the gallery was that the roots of Russian culture seemed surprisingly similar to European culture. Until visiting the Tretyov I had felt that Russia was very isolated and distant compared to the rest of Europe, but the artwork in the gallery would have fit in at any gallery in Western Europe. A few of my favorite pieces included ‘Sledging on the Nova’ by an artist named Bogolubov, ‘Reception of the Local Cossak’ by Repin, and ‘They are Triumphant’ and ‘Buddhist Temple in Darjeeling’ by Vereshchagin. The Vereshchagin pieces particularly appealed to me because many of them were depictions of foreign regions such as India and Central Asia. I can only imagine what it must have been like to travel to such places during his time.

Well tonight I fly to Kiev. When planning the trip I decided I had just enough time for Moscow, St. Petersburg, and one side trip. After a little bit of research, the side trip that appealed most to me was visiting Chernobyl, which is only sixty miles north of Kiev. After experiencing Russia for a few days though, I’ve decided I’d love to come back and take the Trans-Siberian Railway from Beijing to Moscow. I’d love to see the cultures and landscapes change from East to West, and I’d love to see the various ethnic groups in Siberia. That’s a trip that would be worth at least two weeks, I think, and preferably three. Visiting Russia has exposed me to what an incredibly diverse place it is, and I’d love to see more of that.

Spasskaya Military Music Festival

Another trip on the Moscow metro system early this morning took me to the steps of the Cathedral of Christ the Savior, an enormous gold-domed cathedral on the banks of the Moscow River. The morning was a perfect time to visit, and I enjoyed walking around the grounds, observing the many different bronze friezes and intricate carvings on the building. On the opposite side of the cathedral from the metro station a bridge leads from the cathedral grounds to the other side of the Moscow River, and I crossed halfway and turned back to look at the thing towering above me. Even from a distance the thing is giant, and I wondered to myself what time period the architectural wonder was built in. A quick look through my Lonely Planet book revealed it was built in 1997 (surprisingly). Apparently the original church was built from 1839 to 1860 to commemorate Russia’s victory over Napoleon, but Stalin later destroyed it to emphasize his secular interests. The history of the building was fascinating to me; suddenly it became a symbol of Russia’s transition away from soviet-era secularism and into a new society founded on freedom of speech and religion, among other things.

My favorite part of my visit to the cathedral this morning was the views from the bridge across the Moscow River. As I walked past and looked to the north I spotted the towering golden domes of the Kremlin gleaming in the morning sunlight. I stopped for fifteen minutes or so just to enjoy the view, and had a few different passers-by snap pictures of me in front of it. The view from that bridge must be the best in the whole city of Moscow, and I happened to see it at just the right time when the light was perfectly reflecting off the Kremlin and the river.

My next visit of the day was to the Art Muzeon Sculpture Park, a park originally created to house statues of communist heroes that were torn from their pedestals during the 1990’s. The park has since been filled with contemporary works as well, but my favorite statues by far were those of the soviets. One section of the park featured a few full-length statues of Lenin, as well as busts of Lenin and Stalin and a hulking metal creation with a giant hammer and sickle emblem and the letters ‘CCCP’ beneath it. Nearby I found a full length marble statue of Stalin with his nose ripped off and face disfigured. It was interesting to me to reflect on the impact of the soviet-era in the park. To me Moscow feels mostly cosmopolitan and modern, with a few remnants of the soviet-era mixed in. For example, the metro system is dark, cavernous, and antiquated and has the unmistakable feel of soviet creation. In many stations I’ve noticed mosaics depicting the hammer and sickle emblem, Lenin, and even Stalin. It’s very clear from wandering in Moscow that communism and the soviet heroes are part of Russia’s past, but that’s exactly what they are; in the past. The remnants of the soviet-era are present in Russia both literally and figuratively, but those remnants don’t represent what Russia is today.

Later in the day I made yet another journey in the metro system across town to find an Ice Sculpture Gallery that was recommended in my Lonely Planet book. I’ve learned the hard way that traveling independently in Russia is more difficult than in most countries, but after asking several different locals for directions and walking in the direction they pointed as they spoke to me in Russian, I finally found the place. I enjoy doing at least a few quirky things while traveling, and the Ice Sculpture Museum fit the bill. A lady at the front desk outfitted me in a fluffy light-blue jacket to keep me warm, then ushered me into what is essentially a gigantic freezer that houses the ice sculptures. The room was lined with dark blue walls, and the colorful lights and accompanying Christmas-sounding music were a bit unusual, but the ice sculptures were incredible. There must have been a hundred or more different sculptures in the small, freezing room, and my favorites included a knight fighting off a dragon, a man and his daughter riding a ferocious wolf, a row of knights, a giant ice throne in the middle of the room that visitors were invited to sit on, and a giant mosquito dangling from the ceiling. One particularly interesting sculpture was a series of giant crystal-clear ice cubes with fruit frozen inside them. The blocks of ice formed a sort of still life, and the largest one featured a pineapple sliced in half and perfectly preserved by the ice. After enjoying the music and lights in the room for a few minutes, I briefly thought to myself how nice it might be to visit Russia during Christmas time – but then reconsidered once I realized how painfully cold it would be.

On my way back to the metro station I stopped into a small café to have a Russian lunch before continuing. I began with borsch with sour cream, then had a beef dish called (in English) ‘Sirloin beef, Tsar style’. I have no idea what ‘Tsar style’ means, or how typical the dish is in Russia, but I was given a gigantic stack of food consisting of two beef patties with mushrooms and tomatoes between them and cheese melted over the top. I also asked for a Russian drink (non-alcoholic, of course), and was given mineral water (unfortunately it seems that besides the wide assortment of vodkas, the selection of Russian drinks is very limited). As I ate I enjoyed the views of the park, and watched curiously as a man at the table next to me sucked flavored steam from a strange apparatus, held it in briefly, then blew it out into the air.

In the late afternoon I visited Danilovsky Monastery; purported in my Lonely Planet book to be the headquarters of the Russian Orthodox church. The place was just a network of buildings inside a courtyard surrounded by tall whitewashed walls, and it was certainly much smaller than I would expect for a church headquarters, but I enjoyed ducking into a modest Russian cathedral on the grounds and watching a Russian Orthodox service. It’s fascinating to me how many different varieties of Christianity there are. For example, the Russian Orthodox service vaguely resembled a Catholic mass, but instead of sitting on pews, visitors crowd into the cathedral and stand during the service. Four young Russian men chanted at the front of the cathedral in voices that reminded me of medieval Latin chants, but in the Russian language rather than Latin. As the beautiful monotone chant echoed throughout the small room a priest shook smoke from an incense burner throughout the front of the rook, and worshipers simultaneously made the sign of the cross during certain parts of the chant. Flickering candles enhanced the ambiance; the whole atmosphere felt distinctly Christian, yet still very foreign.

As Danilovsky Monastery closed its doors at 7:00 I hurried up to the Red Square to catch a performance there. The Spasskaya Tower International Military Music Festival is apparently a festival that has been held annually since 2007, and includes musical performers from countries throughout the world. As the name of the festival suggests, the music has a military feel to it, and country after country performed in what was essentially a gathering of very professional sounding marching bands. I watched as bands from France, Germany, Kazakhstan, Tajikistan, Ukraine, Israel, Russia, USA, Russia, and even Bahrain played. I have to say that USA was definitely my favorite and clearly the most entertaining (to me, at least). The band started with familiar patriotic songs, but continued with a Michael Jackson ensemble complete with a singer and dancers. I laughed a little as the American performers imitated the walk of the zombies in Michael Jackson’s ‘Thriller’ music video. To me it was very familiar and very entertaining, but I imagine the 5000 or so Russians in attendance must have thought it was very strange. The USA performance definitely stood out as more entertaining and less regimented. That’s one thing I’ve noticed about Russian culture; people here seem very concerned with maintaining dignity. In the US nobody thinks twice about dancing like a zombie or enjoying loud, rambunctious music… Russians must see things a bit differently. After the Americans, my favorite performance had to be Bahrain’s. A large group of Arabic men dressed in white robes and red headdresses danced for the crowd while playing Middle Eastern looking drums and, strangely enough, bagpipes.

The show ended with a spectacular light show on St. Basil’s Cathedral. Projections onto the cathedral raced across the white outlines on the brick façade and lit up the wild domes of the structure in perfectly coordinated color. I was amazed that such a light show was even possible. All the performing acts marched in front of the crowd for the finale, and the night was finished off with fireworks exploding over Russia’s most recognizable icon.

Moscow

It didn’t take long after leaving Paris yesterday for me to start experiencing Russia. On my flight to Moscow I happened to sit next to a Russian man close to my age who introduced himself as Kazma. On the surface Kazma didn’t seem to be unusual at all, but after talking with him for an hour or so I discovered he’s had a very unique life in Russia. Kazma was selected at the age of 5 to train to be part of the most elite hockey club in Russia: CSKA, also known as the ‘Red Army’. Throughout his entire childhood, Kazma devoted his life to playing hockey, and after playing hockey for the most elite junior team in Russia for several years, he was recruited to play hockey in Toronto. Eventually Kazma made it to the NHL, playing for the Chicago Blackhawks for two years before sustaining a career-ending injury to his shoulder. It was fascinating to talk to Kazma about his experience growing up in Russia, and about the friends he made in the world of hockey. Kazma listed off several star NHL players who were personal friends of his. Unfortunately I don’t know hockey very well, so I couldn’t discuss it with him in detail, but the whole experience was pretty amazing. Kazma currently is working in finance for a large Russian energy company, and occasionally works with the Russian billionaire who recently bought the New Jersey Nets. Kazma also likes to race sports cars with his friends, and showed me several pictures on his phone of his yellow Lamborghini.

This morning I left my cozy room at a guesthouse near Moscow’s Sheremetyvo Airport and waited at the nearest train station for a ride into the city. The ambiance was exactly like I imagined rural Russia would be like: crisp, cold air, a desolate train station with a few locals bundled tightly in warm clothing, and the silence broken only occasionally by old Soviet-era trains rumbling by. The ticket office was a formidable brick building painted pink, with only one tiny opening about four inches by ten inches on the side. A well dressed Russian man named Sergei communicated on my behalf with the mysterious people on the other side of the opening, and 49 rubles bought me a ticket into town. After waiting for several minutes, another train arrived that looked as if it had just rolled in from the USSR. Sergei indicated that this was the train we would be taking into Moscow, and we both found a seat in an interior that looked like that of an outdated American school bus.

As it turns out, Sergei also works in finance in Moscow. His English wasn’t quite as good as Kazma’s, but I gathered that he works with several large banks in Russia, and occasionally travels to Siberia for business, among other Russian destinations. Sergei is originally from Kazan, a city of great cultural significance about 500 miles east of Moscow. For some reason Sergei was eager to show me pictures of his cat, and when he flipped through a few of them on his phone I could understand why. Sergei’s cat is a full grown leopard. He flipped through picture after picture as we both laughed to ourselves. One picture was of the leopard sitting in the passenger seat of Sergei’s car and leaning out the window. Another picture was showed Sergei holding the leopard on a leash as the animal pulled ferociously away. Several others showed the leopard lounging and Sergei petting the beast like it was a house cat. Sergei used his limited English vocabulary to articulate to me exactly what kind of cat this was: ‘Big cat! Dangerous cat!’

I found out the hard way today that Russia can be a real challenge to get around in. Very few people speak any English at all, and all the signs on the streets and in the metro are in Russian (with its Cyrillic alphabet), and no accompanying English translation. With that said, the challenge makes it more of an adventure. After arriving at the train station in Moscow I literally wandered aimlessly for twenty minutes before I finally found an ATM where I could pull out some Russian rubles. Wandering through the metro system was a fascinating experience in itself. The turnstiles and ticket booths are completely antiquated and decrepit, and long, rumbling escalators transport commuters deep into the dark belly of the system. Train platforms are dimly lit by ornate chandeliers hanging from the ceiling above, and grungy marble covers nearly every surface of the walls. While using the metro I felt as if I could be in Soviet-era Russia sometime during the cold war, and when I arrived at the station closest to my hostel I was welcomed by hammer and sickle emblems prominently featured on the ceiling and walls.

Visiting the Kremlin in Moscow is obviously an essential experience for any traveler to Russia, and although I didn’t quite know what the Kremlin was about until today, I was excited to experience it for myself. After another brief adventure navigating the metro system, I arrived at the entrance to the Kremlin at its west wall. I guess I didn’t quite know what to expect inside, but I was surprised to find a number of ornate Russian orthodox cathedrals. I spent about an hour wandering through Assumption Cathedral, Archangel Cathedral and Annunciation Cathedral. Each cathedral featured bright golden onion domes and whitewashed walls on the exterior, and dimly lit depictions of various Russian orthodox saints painted in red and blue and gold covered the walls. I was surprised at how religious the whole place felt. I always imagined Russia as a place that had eradicated religion and allegiance to God in favor of communism and allegiance to the State. I guess I just wasn’t aware of how much of a religious presence there still is and how deeply rooted Russian culture is in it. My favorite of all the cathedrals was Annunciation Cathedral. I enjoyed slipping into the narrow entrance through the tall wooden doors at the front of the building and exploring the tiny, ornately decorated interior. The exterior was particularly fascinating to me, and I took a series of pictures of the white and gold building glowing in the morning sunlight.

A short walk back through the Kutafya Tower that marks the entrance to the Kremlin, then along the side of the structure towards Red Square, took me to a long line that led to Lenin’s mausoleum. To me, seeing the decades-old remains of Russia’s greatest communist leader is more grotesque than symbolic, but it is an iconic experience in Russia, and I couldn’t pass it up. A pathway to the museum took me past several monuments to Russia’s most famous and revered leaders, and eventually looped back around to the entrance to the mausoleum. Young Slavic men dressed in Russian military uniforms stood stoically at every turn and quietly pointed me to the center of the building. As I circled the dark, silent interior of the building I observed the pale white glow of Lenin’s face and hands in the center of the room. He was dressed in a conservative suit and tie, but was much shorter than I imagined him. Besides that, the remains of the man looked less like a human being than a Maddame Tussade’s wax model, or even a stone carving. It’s interesting to me that Russia still maintains the mausoleum and even (apparently) reveres the man. I wonder at what point the country will decide that it has entirely abandoned communism and finally put the man to rest in the ground somewhere.

The exit to Lenin’s tomb led me straight into the Red Square, and I was excited to finally see St. Basil’s Cathedral. Unfortunately a gigantic temporary stage and bleachers is in the square this week and is blocking the best views of the iconic Cathedral, but I still enjoyed wandering around the immediate perimeter of it and snapping pictures of the wild looking domes on top. The interior of the cathedral really surprised me. I guess I imagined one gigantic room inside with a series of smaller chapels on the edges of the building, but it’s actually a number of different rooms inside; most of them decorated with Russian orthodox artwork similar to what I saw in the cathedrals at the Kremlin. I wandered up a few narrow stone staircases in St. Basil’s, and through stone rooms covered with intricate patterns that resembled vines. The place felt very old and unique, and more like monasteries I’ve visited in Greece than any kind of cathedral I’ve ever been in.

This afternoon I learned the hard way how huge and difficult to navigate Moscow can be. I originally wanted to go to a museum called ‘The Gorky House’ and began walking in the direction I thought it was in. The street I was on must have been twice the size of State Street back home, and was filled with cars rushing by beneath towering Soviet architecture, but despite the size of the street I still had a difficult time locating it on my map of Moscow. To make a long story short, I wandered aimlessly through the outskirts of the city before finally deciding that my efforts trying to decipher the map and Cyrillic street signs were getting me nowhere. Finally I walked all the way back to the metro station nearest to my hotel, but that getting around beneath the city wasn’t any easier. Every dilapidated sign hanging in the dimly lit tunnels is exclusively in Russian. Also, unlike other metro systems, when lines converge at a single station that station has a different name for each line (and, of course, every name is in Russian). Originally I thought that getting completely lost in metro tunnels several hundred feet beneath Moscow was terribly inconvenient and frustrating, but looking back, it was definitely an adventure. I tried to communicate with a few very Slavic-looking police officers stationed in the tunnels (none of whom spoke a word of English), and finally found the metro line that took me to my next Russian adventure.

Sanduny Baths is the oldest bathhouse in Russia (called a ‘banya’ by Russians), and has been operating since 1808. When I consider that 1808 was before the British recognized the United States as an independent country, it really puts the tradition of the Russian bathhouse into perspective. After pulling off all my clothes and covering myself with a linen sheet, I walked into a giant tile-covered room featuring showers, a couple luke-warm pools of water, and plenty of naked Russian men. I began my banya experience by showering up, then observing my new Russian friends in an effort to avoid breaching any kind of banya etiquette. The banya experience is simple enough: visitors spend a few minutes at a time in the ‘parilka’ (steam room), often beating themselves lightly with bundles of birch branches (called ‘venik’), then return to the cooler room and submerse themselves into the pools of water to cool down before returning to the parilka.

As I entered the parilka I was instantly drenched in my own sweat, and sitting for just a few minutes in the room left me light-headed and feeling as if the tips of my extremities were literally cooking. According to my Lonely Planet book, the experience, ‘appears sadomasochistic, and there are theories tying the practice to other masochistic elements of Russian culture’. At the time I assumed the experience was meant to be enjoyable, and I tried to enjoy it as much as possible, but after reading about it in the Lonely Planet book, I definitely agree the banya is a bit sadomasochistic. I returned to the parilka repeatedly, and even beat myself with the birch branches as naked Russian men lounged exhaustedly nearby. Back in the tile-covered room I soaked in the pools of water and watched as the others collapsed into the pool like the polar bear at Hogle Zoo. Several of the Russian men used a long ladle to pour water into a scalding brick furnace in the room, and at one point they combined eucalyptus oil with the water to create a soothing, pleasant aroma in the steamy air.

My final activity of the day was a stark contrast to the sadomasochistic experience of the banya: a visit to the nearby Nikulin Circus. While researching Russia I had read that Russians take their circus very seriously, and I had to experience it first-hand. I was surprised by what I found.

I’ve always thought of attending the circus in America as a very tacky, childish affair. Nonetheless, it’s entertaining to watch parades of elephants and tigers, daring stunt men racing around metal cages in motorcycles, and undignified clowns honking their plastic noses and piling more bodies than anyone would imagine is possible into a tiny car big enough for no one. The Russian circus is very different. Russians tend to be more concerned with maintaining dignity than Americans do, and their circus certainly reflects that. The circus in Russia is very well organized and well presented. It has the feel of a professional acrobatic show, and the event is treated more like a Broadway musical than an American carnival.

The show began with the Russian host introducing a few dignitaries to the crowd, then presenting a skilled trapeze artist. The woman swung back and forth on the trapeze, doing flips in the air while flashing her wide smile for all to see. Later acts included jugglers (including one who juggled several large plastic rings while bouncing a ball on his head), a girl who contorted her body and spun several hula-hoops around each of her limbs, a girl who creatively climbed to the top of a long rope before wrapping herself in it and falling nearly to the bottom, a show with trained animals at the end. The animal show was my favorite part of the event. Two leopards, two black panthers, and three large tigers entered an enclosed ring with their two trainers and performed for the crowd by walking skillfully across narrow beams and jumping between several tall platforms. As I returned to my hotel I was reminded of Sergei and his own leopard, and I actually enjoyed navigating the contorted, confusing tunnels of the Moscow metro.