Red Dawn in Moscow and St Petersburg

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I bump into Brett and Sinead from Vancouver, round-the-world travellers who recognized me on a dusty street in Siberia from my columns in the Vancouver Sun. We all decide that travelling can be so random! We head off to Fidels for a drink or four, and there I meet Chris from New Zealand, who is living and working in St Pete’s as a ballet dancer. He’s pounding back the pints, busting stereotypes, shedding insight onto the fragile-yet-ferocious world of Russian ballet. Soon enough we’re barhopping along Nevsky Prospekt, eating blintzes from a 24-hour cafe, marveling as the dawn sun reflects over the morbidly named Church of the Savior of Spilled Blood (a Tsar was killed here, hence the morbid name). I took a photo that I can’t believe I had the privilege to take. Finishing up at a popular hipster bar called Dacha, I talk to Adam from New York, a writer who came to St Petersburg, met a beautiful Russian girl, got married, and now lives here. Doesn’t sound so bad. I somehow find the metro to catch the first train back to my hostel, which is only two stops away (but across two drawbridges that can leave you stranded if you’re not careful). I had lost my notebook somewhere, and forgot my passport, so every time a cop car drove by I twitched nervously. Of course, it all ended up fine; I found my notebook the next day (retracing my steps using my pictures as a guide), and met up with the Vodkatrain group for a final dinner and farewells. The train had arrived for good at the station, and the bottle of vodka was finally dry.

What a range of unforgettable experiences these last three weeks! From that amazing dawn in Tiananmen Square, watching kids fly their kits in the early morning breeze, to hiking the Great Wall of China, concluding with a terrific zipglide back to civilization. Temples, markets, people - China’s present was fascinating in terms of what it will become in the future. Then Mongolia, with its vast, green plains and big, blue sky. Galloping like a cowboy, or climbing up those marble cliffs, nothing to do except sit outside the gur tent and bliss out at the peace of it all. Life on a train is life at a different pace, a time to reflect, read, relax, and eat noodles. Swimming in the icy waters of beautiful Lake Baikal, discovering that Siberia is so much more than a Soviet prison sentence. Red Square at dawn, exploring Moscow’s short summer nights with young Russians, and discovering why St Petersburg has the reputation it deserves. Considering these are only my highlights, that’s a lot of cover in 21 days, and while there were some definite vodka binges, I can’t fail but notice that each all night drinking session led to the discovery of something unusual and unforgettable (drinking responsibly means recognizing your limits, and allowing new adventures to spew forth, as opposed to just spew). The Vodkatrain took the stress out of an amazing adventure, bonded a group but gave it space, and left everyone feeling like they’ve awakened from an intense, exotically beautiful dream.

Prima-Sport Hostel
St Petersburg, Russia

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