Moscow, Russia

14 - 20 April, 2001
"Moscow. It's another world!" A sign bearing that message, in English, is the first thing to greet visitors as they step off the plane at Sheremetyevo-2. It refers to the airport's duty-free shops, but it may as well refer to the rest of the city. I had the fortunate opportunity to visit Hannah while she was on her assignment in Moscow, and she has invited me to write my impressions. She's been writing of sightseeing and working, so I decided to write about my culture shock.

That sign is the first thing to greet visitors; it is not, however, the first thing a visitor sees on arrival. That distinction would have to go to the State Officer for Giving Permission to the Jetway Operator to Open the Aircraft Door. (O.K., I made that title up.) After landing, our Lufthansa pilot informed us that our entry into Russia would be delayed as this officer was not present at our arrival gate, and the door could not possibly be opened until official permission had been given. This was in spite of the facts that all of us on the plane had been issued visas which were checked by the gate staff at the Frankfurt Main airport, and we would soon enough have to present ourselves for passport and customs inspection at Sheremetyevo. Nevertheless, for the fully trained jetway operator to open the door without the approval of the state would have been an unpardonable lapse in security, surely resulting in a one-way trip to Gulag City. After giving the official "Da" required for the door to be opened, the officer stood by the door as we passengers filed past. She provided each of us with a working definition of "dour" as we passed, and pointedly failed to smile or in any other way welcome us.

Once one has successfully navigated one's way out of the airport, I believe it is possible to get by in any country knowing only six key words in the local language. In Russian, those words are: da [yes], nyet [no], pozhalsta [please], spasiba [thank you], piva [beer] and tualet [toilet]. These words, in combination with hand signals, are generally sufficient to meet life's daily needs.

The trick in Russian, though, is that they use a different alphabet. Just as the railroad operates on a different gauge to forestall invaders, I began to suspect that Saint Cyril's clever and devious manipulations of otherwise familiar letters were meant solely to confuse foreigners. In Russian, the letter "P" is read as an "R." "B" is "V," "C" is "S," "H" is "N." The "L" we know and love is replaced with a Л. "G" is Г, "P" is П, "F" is Ф. It gets worse. There are also letters that look like "3" and "4" (э and ч), and weird mathematical symbols (ж and ю, among others). Sentences begin to resemble physics equations. It goes on: a backward "N" is an "I," while a backward "R" is pronounced "ya." Reading Russian begins to resemble code-breaking, as each letter has seemingly been assigned a new value.

Once the substitution scheme has been learned, it becomes easier to decipher Russian words. "Ресторан" for instance, becomes, phonetically, "res-to-ran," or restaurant. A street sign reading стоп is clearly a "stop" sign, and the yellow cars labeled "такси" are taxis. "интернет каФе" is "Internet Cafe." Just when one begins to get comfortable, though, in sneak the lower-case letters. We might expect a lower case Russian "T" to be a "t," but of course it isn't. It's an "m." Thusly, a "Ресторан" and a "ресmоран" are both restaurants. An added wrinkle: that could be "ресmopaнь," the final "ь" being some vestigial appendage analogous to "e" in the "Ye Olde" version of English. Even though some of the words sound familiar, the only way to recognize them when reading is to sound them out. It was following this procedure at the Central Museum of the Armed Forces of the U.S.S.R. (they haven't gotten around to changing the sign yet) that I found myself reading German written in Cyrillic.

All of this linguistic transliteration becomes important in places like the subway. Recognizing that what your guide book calls Novoslobodskaya and what the sign on the wall says is новослоBодская are the same place is crucial. Paying attention to the signs on the subway can lead one into other kinds of trouble, however. If you're concentrating on the signs when the doors open, you could find yourself shoved through them whether or not the train has stopped. The Moscow subway is allegedly the busiest in the world, and that's not hard to believe. I was never on a car that wasn't full, and trains come into each of the more than 150 stations at about two minute intervals. Each station is also a mini-museum of Soviet art, as they were set up to provide emergency fallout shelter in the event of a nuclear war. What better way to ride out a nuclear winter with morale intact than to spend it staring at statues, mosaics and other artwork depicting the heroic struggles of the proletariat?

The monetary system also presents some difficulties, but not because of any difficulty in understanding it. The Russian rouble has fallen on hard times, and as a result, so have the Russian people. One rouble is now worth about 3.5 cents US, down from a pre-devaluation high of 15.9 cents less than three years ago. Rouble coins come in denominations of five, two and one, and one rouble is divided into 100 kopeks. For some reason, coins of 50, 10 and one kopek are in circulation. Certainly, a 1 kopek coin (value: 0.035 US cents - that's right, 35 thousandths of a cent) must cost far more than its value to mint. My favorite souvenirs to collect while traveling are samples of the local currency; the only way I acquired one- and ten-kopek coins was to pick them up off the ground where they had been discarded as useless. How the people who had them on hand to chuck out got them I can't guess.*

One very effective way to save money in Russia is to only carry large bills. They cannot be spent. By large, I mean 100 rouble notes. No one can make change, so there are two potential outcomes. I tried to purchase a 6 rouble postcard from three different vendors inside G.U.M. using a 100 rouble note, and was turned away each time. Evidently "no change" is a well practiced English phrase among Moscow shopkeepers. Two of them didn't even bother to look up from their reading to dismiss me. They caught the 100 rouble note out of the corners of their eyes and knew not to bother.

The other possible outcome is somewhat friendlier. At the Moscow State Museum of Architecture, where the admission fee is 15 roubles, I presented my unchangeable 100 rouble note (mind you, this thing is only worth $3.46 US) to the attendant, who, of course, did not have change. I was therefore permitted to enter the museum for free. I initially felt some guilt at being a (relatively) rich westerner taking advantage of the kindly ladies who ran the place and resolved to return to pay my fee once I had the proper change. (Then I went in and reviewed both galleries and decided that at $0.52 US the place was a rip-off. Gallery #1 has about two dozen photos of the war in Chechnya. What this has to do with architecture, other than blowing it up, remains unexplained. Gallery #2 had some early 19th century French engravings of views of Moscow, but I would later discover prints of the same engravings on sale in the gift shop of the Hotel Russia just off Red Square. There was no Gallery #3.)

Perhaps the thing that struck me most about Moscow was the preponderance of Soviet era decor. I remembered seeing broadcasts about ten years ago of jubilant mobs toppling statue after statue of communist icons, and I remember reading that all of these statues had been carted off to a makeshift junkyard to have their bronze recycled (probably into kopek coins). The junkyard is now a "sculpture park," and these monuments have been stood back up for display. No jumble of sledge-hammered statuary here: "Iron" Felix Dzerzhinsky, grandfather of the KGB, strikes the same heroic pose here as he did for all those years in front of Lubyanka Prison. Elsewhere around the city, the Soviet star still tops the towers in the Kremlin walls, hammers and sickles abound as a decorative motif, and statues and paintings of Lenin are inescapable. You can't swing a dead dissident without hitting several likenesses of him. Also, most apartment blocks have granite or marble plaques embedded in their walls detailing the "heroic accomplishments in the name of state communism" that were perpetrated, er, accomplished by former (and maybe current?) occupants, including Ho Chi Minh among others. I had expected that these sorts of reminders of the Soviet system would have been the first thing to go after the reforms of a decade ago, but now I realize that if they took away everything that carried such reminders there would be nothing left. All the statues and all the paintings would have to go, all of the buildings would have to be renamed - it's far too pervasive.

I made it a point to visit Lenin's mausoleum. I happened to be there on a day with few visitors, so I had a private audience with him. (Well, semi-private; it was me, Lenin and the guard.) Considering he's been dead for three quarters of a century he looks remarkably intact. After Lenin's chamber, the tomb empties into a garden by the Kremlin wall where various heroes of the state have been interred. I had paused in front of Stalin's grave when I was nudged by the older gentleman next to me. I didn't understand his words, but from the grin, the hand gestures and the conspiratorial tone in his voice I gather he said something like "I'm sure glad he's down there and not still on the other side this wall." I got the distinct impression that he remembered Stalin well, and now simply relished the fact that he could say such things over his grave. So maybe the old monuments will go.

After visiting Lenin I headed off to one of the many monuments to the end of the Cold War that dot the city. They're not listed as such in the guide book, but they're easy to find - just look for the red and yellow signs that read "макдоналдс."

*I can help resolve this mystery, partially. Prices in stores are generally given as XX roubles and YY kopeks, where YY virtually always is zero. However, for items sold by weight, even if the unit price is in roubles, the weight of the product may cause a non-zero number of kopeks to end up in the price. Thus I bought an orange one day costing some number of roubles and 26 kopeks, which of course I did not have, nor did the cashier have change down to the kopek. But if she had, I could have acquired some very small denomination coins. - H

London, England

Cleverly, we'd timed our arrival in London to coincide with another major sporting event: Wimbledon. Thus, hotels were scarce, but before too long we were ensconced in the Hotel Oliver, near the Earl's Court Tube station. We dropped our bags in the tiny room, then headed back out to the Imperial War Museum.

Navigating the Tube proved to be an experience (and it wasn't even rush hour yet) but eventually we did make it to the museum. Among the typical war museum exhibits (tanks, guns, planes, etc.), two stood out: the Trench Experience and the Blitz Experience. The Trench Experience was a walk-through reconstruction of a World War I trench at night. Realistic touches like the sounds of gunshots and tapes of soldiers speaking to one another made it feel authentic. Even smells were added, of gunpowder and meals cooking. Thankfully, the designers omitted the squish of mud underfoot.

The Blitz Experience was even more elaborate. Our group of about twenty visitors was first ushered into a bomb shelter, which shook with an explosion as we "survived" a German raid. Exiting the shelter, we emerged into smoke and confusion as the warden guided us past bombed out shops and homes, dust and debris scattered all around.

From the museum we walked to Blackfriars Bridge over the Thames to meet up with a walking tour. This tour was right up our alley: the "Along the Thames Pub Walk" from London Walks. Since it was a Friday evening, the pubs tended to be crowded, but we were still well able to enjoy the ambiance and the pints. Our tour took us backward in time, stopping first at a relatively modern bar right on the river with a great view of the city's skyline. Next we came to an 18th century labyrinth of a pub called The Anchor, not far from Shakespeare's Globe Theatre. Lastly, the George was renovated in the 17th century and has remained essentially unchanged since then. We had our dinner there, then, tired and sleepy, took the Tube back to our hotel.

The next morning we struck out intending to visit both the Tower of London and St. Paul's Cathedral. We decided to save St. Paul's for another day as the Tower was too fascinating to leave any of it unexplored. We spent the whole day there, beginning with a guided walk by one of the Yeoman Warders, the military guardians of the Tower. The tour led from the main gate, past the Traitor's Gate (where prisoners were brought into the fortress), under the Bloody Tower and all through the complex. The guide's script was very entertaining and contained a great deal of humor, but it was mostly made up of stories of barbaric torture and imprisonment and executions, executions, executions.

That tour finished in time for us to catch another entitled "Attack the Tower." This tour was by reservation to a limited group, so only nine of us got led around the Tower complex to examine its defenses. We saw the walls, both inner and outer and from inside and outside, the arrow loops, the murder holes and the two remaining portcullises. (Or is that portculli?).

We also saw the Tower's Armoury and its collection of weapons and armour as well as a demonstration of how a medieval knight's armour was worn. The poor chap who had to wear it was sweating buckets from the weight and the heat, but he still gave an entertainingly humorous spiel. Of course, we stood in line to see the Crown Jewels and all the Coronation regalia, but the most enjoyable part of that display was the video of Queen Elizabeth II's Coronation shown to the line of people waiting to get in. All of the rituals with their attendant artifacts were depicted, the Sword of Offering, the Royal Orb, and so on. Elizabeth looked like she was ready for a long nap by the time it was all done. By the time we were done with the Tower, we, too, were ready for a long nap.

The next morning we partook of another London Walks offering, the "Old Westminster" walk. Big Ben, the Houses of Parliament, Westminster Abbey; all the London highlights were on this tour. We heard many interesting stories, including coronation debacles: crowns put on backward, lords falling down drunk, parts of the ceremony skipped over, new monarch nodding off, etc. Then through St. James's Park for a look at Buckingham Palace, albeit only from the outside. Our timing coincided with the Changing of the Guard, so we watched as the band came down The Mall. Our tour continued through Trafalgar Square, home of Nelson's Column and several thousand pigeons. We finished up at Covent Garden with a pleasant lunch.

We had been fortunate enough the day before to purchase tickets to see "A Comedy of Errors" at Shakespeare's Globe. Seats had been sold out long ago, but standing room spots in the pit in front of the stage were available. The play was a delight, proof that Shakespeare shouldn't be just read, but seen. Since we were "groundlings," standing in the pit, sometimes the action took place all around us as the actors made their way on and off the stage. It was a pleasure to take in some local culture while still having it in our own language. (Well, almost.)

Our last full day of vacation took us to St. Paul's Cathedral, our last church of the trip. We climbed (and climbed and climbed) to the top of the dome for striking, yet overcast, views of the city. Back on ground level, we toured the inside of the church and saw monuments to various British notables from history, most (all?) of whom are buried in the crypt below. Down in the crypt, we saw the actual tombs of those memorialized above, such as Admiral Lord Nelson, Christopher Wren, and many others.

After lunch (mmm, pub food!), we took our last London Walks tour, this one in the British Museum, a thoroughly incredible place. It seems as though everything famous is here. There are friezes from the Parthenon, mummies from Egypt, rooms full of artifacts from civilizations throughout history, even the Rosetta Stone. Our guide told us that there is so much in the museum that if one was to read every exhibit label, allowing ten seconds each, it would take 38 years to see the entire collection. Using those numbers, we calculated that in our two and a half hours we saw 0.00002% of the museum. It is simply staggering. If we lived in London, I'd be there every day.

Another pub dinner, this one at the Orange Brewery, a 200 year old pub, followed by a farewell pint at the Rat & Parrot near our hotel, and we were back in our room to pack. We awoke the next morning both happy to be going home and sad to be finished with this grand vacation. At Heathrow, we boarded our plane for home.

Harwich, England

Our ferry ride from Hoek van Holland to Harwich was not as much fun as the other boat rides we'd taken on this trip. (All right, nothing compares to a Venetian gondola, but I was also referring to the Stadt Bern and the Peter Wessel.) Rather, we spent 15 Fl. for the dubious privilege of sitting in the "Panorama Room" watching the ship's wake through salt-encrusted windows. At least it was non-smoking. The ferry had movie theaters, slot machines, blackjack tables, bars, and a McDonald's. There was also a frenzy of duty-free shopping as that service was only a few days from being suspended. From all of this we abstained, and we found that the one redeeming feature of the ship was its speed; at one point the captain announced our speed at 44 knots.

Awaiting us in Harwich was our train to London.

Rotterdam, The Netherlands

We came to Rotterdam in order to find a ferry to take us to England, so our first order of business upon arrival was to make our departure arrangements. With that accomplished, we had the rest of the afternoon free to explore the city.

Our first stop was the Kijk-Kubus, a fascinating condominium building by the architect Piet Blom. Each module of the complex is a private home in the shape of a cube; the tricky part is that each cube stands on one of its points, and none of the outside walls are vertical. We toured the one public unit in the complex and found it intriguing. The living space is on three levels; from the bottom up there's an entry and kitchen, then a sleeping area, then a loft/attic/lounge. It's a very clever, and obviously distinctive, design.

Our lunch in Rotterdam merits a mention as an educational experience. "Hamburger" in Dutch evidently means a ground ham patty with ketchup and onions on top, no bun. "Special hamburger" means the same, but add a slice of cheese and a fried egg between the patty and the onions. Tasty, but not what we'd had in mind.

Since it was bombed flat not once but twice during World War II, Rotterdam has become a modern architectural proving ground. The Nederlands Architectuurinstituut has exhibits on the history of local architecture as well as its future. We saw an exhibit titled "Two Centuries of Dutch Architecture" and one on underground architecture. (Literally underground, not just out of the mainstream.)

Outside the Architectuurinstituut, we got a special treat. We saw a common tern dive repeatedly into the institute's surrounding pool until it came up with a fish. The bird was so engrossed in feeding that it didn't seem to mind that we were only ten feet away.

Our architectural tour of Rotterdam then took us to the Euromast, a 185 meter tower overlooking the world's busiest harbor. This example from the because-we-can school of architecture afforded us a grand view of the city, as well as giving us a very clear impression of just how flat this country is.

While sipping beers (Heineken, of course) atop the Euromast, we decided it was time for dinner. We'd read that Delfshaven was the place to go for restaurants and bars and such, so that's where we went. Once we got there we thought, "This can't be it!" and so set off on foot, walking for over an hour before concluding that the one canalside street with a half-dozen restaurants really was "It." As it turned out, we did have a nice meal, capped off with a yoghurt, custard and fruit syrup dessert called flip. Yum.

We got up early the next morning so we could catch a train to the ferry port at Hoek van Holland and then the ferry to Harwich, England.

Arnhem, The Netherlands

Arnhem was another city we visited based on word-of-mouth from people we'd met along the way, and, like Antwerp, it proved to be a very pleasant and enjoyable place. We arrived in the early evening and took a stroll around the city, stopping for dinner at a pleasant café. During our stroll we noticed that many of the businesses in Arnhem close up as early as seven p.m., but that didn't bother us as we were in need of an early night.

The next morning we visited the Hoge Veluwe National Park, the place that had so piqued our interest that we decided to come to Arnhem. The park is the largest national park in the Netherlands, and like the rest of the country, it is almost entirely flat. This lack of topographical impediments makes the hundreds of free-access bicycles in the park even more attractive.

Admission to the park includes use of a bike; just pick one out of the many racks around the park and leave it in a rack when you're done with it. Very civilized. The bikes are simple affairs with coaster brakes and one gear, but that's fine in a place like this. We cruised around the northern end of the park, surprised to find a landscape that looked downright coastal: sand dunes anchored by grasses, scattered pines establishing themselves here and there. Later on, in the visitor's center, we learned that this landscape is partially the result of soil depletion from generations of farming and grazing. Eventually it became a unique ecosystem deserving of protection in its own right, so now this former wasteland is a national park.

The park also contains the Kröller-Müller Museum, home to a large collection of Van Goghs as well as more modern painting and sculpture, and the Museonder, a science museum devoted to the underground world. The Museonder is itself underground, and in its central gallery hang the roots of an enormous beech tree on the surface. Another prominent feature of the park is the St. Hubertus hunting lodge, itself a museum of art deco architecture.

Our bus from the park brought us back to downtown Arnhem, where we first went for another walk to admire the city's architecture. After that, we found Arnhem's nightlife, a zone of restaurants and bars arrayed around a church square. After dinner and ice cream, we visited a few pubs before calling it a night. The next day we were off to Rotterdam.