Day 6: Gorky, Vladimir and the approach to Moscow

Day 6: approach to Moscow

莫斯科

Today’s stations are (in time order):

01.17 – Cheptsa

04.42 – Kirov

10.44 – Gorky (Nizhny Novgorod)

14.18 – Vladimir

18.13 – Moscow

Right now it’s 16.42 and we’re between Vladimir and the final stop – Moscow.  The last day has been uneventful and there are now only 3 passengers left on the train. It’s been an interesting experience but now I can’t wait to arrive in Moscow and start the next phase of my adventure.

Day 5: Novosibirsk (New Siberia) – Yekaterinburg – Asia/Europe border crossing

5.00 a.m. Moscow time.

I woke from a good sleep to a grey and damp world outside the window. Yesterday evening we had stopped at the city of Novosibirsk (New Siberia) and most of my Chinese friends from car 2 had disembarked there.  I really wanted to buy food but didn’t want to stray too far from the train because I didn’t trust it to wait. The nearest food kiosk was tantalisingly lit up but deserted and locked.  At 8pm in the evening Novosibirsk was chilly and I was on the platform wearing only shorts, T-shirt and flip-flops. The kind train boss went back on board and fetched a jacket for me.  Back on the train things were now looking very deserted in my car. I was now the only passenger left. In car 2 there are a few more passengers; one Russian girl who I met yesterday, a big red-faced Russian man who boarded at Irkutsk heading to Yekaterinburg, and two more Chinese guys, one of who is going to Moscow. We have only one more night on the train before we arrive in Moscow. I must say I have been a little bored today since most of the other passengers left and I finished my last book. I’d like to do this trip again in the future, but I’d go with friends and also plan some stops along the way. These will be real overnight stops, not just fifteen minutes on station platforms. I also want to explore Ulan-Bator and around, so my next trip will be on the slightly faster Trans-Mongolian line, which takes five days to travel from Moscow to Beijing.

Day 5 – 5 p.m. – leave Asia and enter Europe.

再见亚洲，你好欧洲。。。

Today had two highlights; the first, finding decent food at last (bread, sausage and mineral water) at Yekaterinburg station; the second, catching a brief glimpse of the white stone obelisk that marks the Asia-Europe continental dividing line. I waited for ages with camera in hand but when it flashed past I wasn’t quick enough to get more than a sloppy badly aimed shot. After the excitement of the obelisk (which no-one else seemed too concerned about, I suppose I am the only tourist in this car), I went back to the serious business of eating sausage sandwiches and celebrating my return to the European continent by finishing off my bottle of Argentinean red. It’s weird how strongly I’ve been craving bread on this journey, maybe caused by the discovery that Russians make good tasty bread that isn’t sweet and fluffy like most bread in China.

Day 4：September 1st, Chita – Ulan-Ude – Irkutsk

Outside was dark when I woke up feeling disorientated. The toilets were locked, which meant we were approaching a station. After the meijiu I was desperate to use the toilet, so I made a pleading face at one of the provodnistas (female train attendants) who was snuggled up in her compartment wearing a big army overcoat and drinking something from a brown bottle. She unlocked the door for me, saying ‘station, station, station’ to which I replied ‘ok quick, quick, quick.’  Later I found my watch, which I’d taken off to avoid thinking about time, and it showed 11pm. That meant that my cabin mates had been sleeping for over ten hours! They should be feeling quite energetic when they arrive home at Ulan-Ude.  I returned to my bunk and waited for the bathroom to reopen so I could brush my teeth. In the meantime I poured myself another glass of tooth-rottingly sweet meijiu.  Our train seemed to be infested by the dreaded mosquitoes, as I found a few mysterious itchy and suspiciously bite-like spots on my wrists and ankles.

After washing and brushing my teeth I felt human enough to investigate the new restaurant car. The restaurant car is usually provided by the country through which the train is travelling so it was time for a Russian car to be put into service. I slammed and bounced my way down the length of the train and found that sure enough, the car was now completely different. It was decked out in red faux leather and had a small bar area furnished with bar stools, followed by a seating area with separate high-backed booths. The only occupant was a middle-aged woman who was reading a book while smoking. She turned out to be the waitress/cook and brought me a ten-page menu covered with handwritten scrawls – but all in Russian. The waitress tried to help me, but she didn’t speak much English so we resorted to using pictures of ducks, chickens and loaves of bread to get the message across. My final pick was quite random but I figured it couldn’t be too bad and I was so hungry anyway that it wouldn’t matter. What I got was a plate of French fries, salad and a chicken breast covered with melted cheese and mushrooms. It was quite edible and even tasty. I ordered a cup of tea to follow, which arrived English-style with milk, sugar and a slice of lemon. However the bill was much less tasty – at almost 500 rubles! I was quite surprised at this, thinking I pointed at something much cheaper on the menu. It’s more expensive than one night of accommodation at the hostel I booked in central Moscow.  Even in England I’d think twice about spending this much money (almost ten pounds) on a train meal. No wonder the restaurant car was deserted.  The Russians obviously knew better and stocked up at station stops whenever they got the chance. I quite enjoyed sitting in the restaurant car for a welcome change of scenery, but that is scenery I can’t afford. I was also a bit surprised that on an international train there were no English translations on the menu, at the very least it could have been shown in Chinese, seeing as Beijing is the final stop.

After my meal, I realised I had no idea what time it was or where we were. I guessed somewhere in the middle of Siberia with the sun shining high and bright overhead, so probably it was midday. It couldn’t be Moscow time, as my watch was showing 5.20am, obviously not so.  According to the Trans-Siberian Handbook, this area of Siberia runs on Moscow time plus 6 hours. I set my watch forward and immediately felt more in tune.

乌兰乌的

Ulan Ude – 2 p.m. Tuesday

We were due to arrive here at 2pm on Tuesday and this was where my cabin mates would disembark.  They were still asleep until 12 p.m, after which they awoke and started a flurry of activity. The corridor was filled with large bags of clothing, such as Roxy surfwear, which they had bought in Beijing for selling at their shop in Ulan Ude. Some of the Roxy stuff was nice, but I asked Altania the price and she told me around 4000 roubles, 400 Yuan, which is at least twice as much as I’d pay in Beijing after skilful bargaining.  And, of course, it was all totally fake.  Also involved in the packing operation were the two white Russians next door, plus my two cabin mates and another Asian looking Russian lady from the other side of us. They were the same group that I had lunch with after crossing the border yesterday. I sat and watched them pack, sometimes helping if needed, sometimes chatting to Altania or the older Buryat lady, who spoke a smattering of English which improved as we spoke. It seemed that most of the passengers in our car were departing at Ulan Ude.  When it was time for them to disembark, I went down to the platform and wished them all good luck, especially Altania. I gave her my email address and told her to contact me if she ever wants to practise English. I thought she was a very helpful, smart and mature girl with a good sense of humour.

After Ulan Ude it was just me, the Chinese businessman and two tall blond Russian boys, who might have been twins, definitely brothers. The Chinese businessman and I became friends and spent the afternoon discussing travel, politics (including Tibet, Taiwan, Japan and the Dalai Lama) and comparing China, Russia and the UK. He was heading to Irkutsk to start a year long contract (I can’t remember what his job was, but he looked more like a manager than an ordinary worker). Along the way we stopped at another station, literally for two minutes. They were selling the famous Lake Baikal fish, which we wanted to buy.  As the fish seller came to the door there was a cry of ‘fish, fish’ from the cabin attendants and we all ran down the corridor to the door. It was a fast transaction as the train wasn’t waiting for anyone to buy fish and had already started moving away. The seller jogged valiantly alongside as I fumbled with the annoyingly unfamiliar money. Finally one of the provodnistas helped me by grabbing the correct money from my wallet and handing it to the seller. In the nick of time she snatched the greasy package of fish from the seller. I think it cost around 100 roubles (20 yuan, not bad for three big Lake Baikal fish). The gruff train boss became quite excited about the fish and came to my compartment to investigate the situation. He showed me how to skin and eat the fish, ate the best part of one fish, declined my offer of beer and then left the Chinese businessman and me alone to finish the fish off.

伊尔库茨克

Irkutsk

At Irkutsk the Chinese businessman and the Russian brothers left the train. The platform was crowded with people coming to meet their loved ones and pick up newly arrived colleagues. The tall blond brothers were met by parents equally tall and blond, and the Chinese businessman joined a large group of Chinese people.  On the platform I got into conversation with some more Chinese guys, when I overheard them discussing in amazement the immense height of a man on the platform. He was a giant, quite possibly 7 feet tall, towering above everyone else. I told them in Chinese, “I agree” and then we started chatting. They introduced me to two young Russian girls travelling in their car who spoke Chinese and also English. Our group became friends and I relocated to car 2, where we spent the rest of that evening drinking Russian beer, eating snacks and talking in Chinese. The group of eight came from various places in Heilongjiang Province and were heading to Novosibirsk to start a three-year work contract at a sock factory. I also found that one of the Russian girls was heading to Moscow.  At midnight we arrived at Jima station (the Russian name means ‘winter’) and stood on the platform to get some fresh air and stretch our legs. A woman came up to me with a basket of drinks for sale. Even in the dark it looked like her face was bruised down one side. I felt sorry for her being out at midnight selling things on a platform. The train boss and the attendants were standing on the platform, saying we had fifteen minutes wait there. Suddenly, without any warning, the train began to move off. All of us ran for the doors and jumped onto the car, train boss and attendants included. I grabbed my provodnista’s arm and pulled her back onto the train. We were all laughing hysterically and it was quite a nice bonding moment as we thanked our lucky stars we weren’t left behind on that cold platform in the dead of night.

Day 3, August 31st, Manzhouli – last station in China

满洲里

Manzhouli – 6am

Last night I went to sleep early to get ready for the border crossing at 3am.  There was no need for anyone to drag me from my bed, I was up and conscious by 3.30 and so far no-one had arrived at our compartment.  Chinese immigration officials soon boarded the train and collected our passports, after which we were able to get off the train and walk on the platform at the Chinese border city, Manzhouli.  This would be my last glimpse of China.  Manzhouli station had a shop selling all kinds of goods; food, drinks, clothes and other random things like picture frames, torches and string. It was possible to get rid of any remaining Chinese yuan here, either by spending them or changing them to rubles with the black market money changers who hung around the shop.  I thought of Portia and bought two bottles of meijiu, then some fruit and snacks, all the time bargaining with the shopkeepers to ensure I wasn’t charged Russian tourist prices.

I spent some time sitting on the platform in the chilly early morning air watching the people and trains.  In front of me was one of our train cars, right at the end of the train, marked in Chinese: 莫斯科 – 平壤 (Moscow – Pyongyang) The North Korean capital is the true last stop on this line, but one that the average traveller (especially Westerners) rarely reach.

Arrival in Russia – August 31^st

外贝加尔斯克：Zabaikalsk

We were back on the train and had just passed through the Manzhouli border with our passports returned from Chinese immigration.  Now a group of stern-faced Russian immigration officials entered the car and asked again for passports and immigration cards. Much to my annoyance, I’d managed to lose my immigration card and scrabbled around looking for it under the watchful and unimpressed eye of an angry-looking female immigration official. Finally I gave up, so she produced a new card and proceeded to personally fill it out for me. She then motioned for me to remove my hat and glasses, scrutinised my face and photo a few more times than seemed necessary, finishing the checking process with no hint of a smile. Then the customs officials arrived, at which point my cabin mates got visibly nervous and began whispering to each other.  I heard that one Russian customs official could speak Chinese, although I didn’t hear much evidence of it, except the word ‘mingbai?’ (Understand?) addressed to my Buryat travel companions who weren’t Chinese, but Russian.

Our passports were soon returned and we were able to get off the train. My first sight of Russia was an unimpressive and rundown border town, bleak, dusty and full of ramshackle old cars, but I was excited at the prospect of some Russian food at a real restaurant. My cabin mates and I escaped the station by clambering over a locked gate and ventured off into the town to eat lunch. My first Russian meal was excellent, although I don’t know how it rates on the wider Russian scale of meal quality. To me, the unsweetened bread, tuna olive salad, vegetable soup (borscht) and spiced rice (plov) were delicious. A hot cup of real English breakfast tea, with milk and sugar, finished the meal off perfectly.  The Russian ladies in our group ordered a bottle of vodka with lunch and shared it between the three of them. They didn’t offer it to me, which was fine as I’d already found some great apple juice that tasted just like it does in England, where it used to be my favourite.  Our lunch was served by an unsmiling waitress with short two-tone hair, blonde and black. The second waitress wore a gold shirt with one button missing, a mini-skirt and red house slippers.  At the convenience store where we stocked up on supplies the friendly young female assistant asked me if I lived in London and helped me to buy Schweppes tonic water, English breakfast tea and a real Mars Bar.

It was a long wait on the platform to get back on the train, which was having its wheels changed to run on the Russian track.  I napped, paced the platform, visited the smelly and filthy toilets, watched grasshoppers jumping on the tarmac and still the time crawled by.  Finally the train reappeared with a long hooting sound. It drew slowly up to the platform and everyone pressed forward, keen to board and catch up with some sleep.  But then the train retreated the way it came. It repeated this twice over, teasing the poor tired passengers!  When at last we were able to get on the train and settle back down, the train started moving, but it kept stopping, starting and shunting around in an annoying and disturbing way. After almost two hours we still hadn’t left the station.  The journey from Beijing to Moscow on the Trans-Manchurian line takes six days, but almost a whole day is taken by crossing the border. I resigned myself to the long wait and poured a glass of meijiu (梅酒a very sweet Japanese plum wine) and tonic.

5pm that evening and I went to the next compartment for a chat with the lone Chinese businessman who Altania and I had helped with the customs form earlier (it’s only written in Russian, so we did some two-way translating). He told me about the time difference between Beijing and Moscow, and how Russia is split into 8 time zones, unlike China which uses Beijing time nation-wide. Anyway, people on the train had been putting their watches back to Moscow time, four hours behind Beijing. The last four hours of waiting, shunting and drinking meijiu vanished into a black hole as I set my watch back to ‘12.54pm’. Now something makes more sense – how they’re able to spend such a long time crossing the border and yet still make the journey in six days.  After the time change, I felt a bit bored and discouraged. My cabin mates had been sleeping soundly since we got back on the train, even throughout the mad shunting.  I tried to learn some French on my iPod, and then I also drifted off to sleep.

Day 2: August 30th, Shenyang to Haerbin

On the first morning I woke up feeling surprisingly refreshed.  The bunk bed was comfortable (although it didn’t look it) and the motion of the train helped lull me to sleep.

I woke up hungry and ventured down the train to find the restaurant car.  On the Chinese section of the journey this car was provided by Chinese railways, so the food was Chinese and so were the staff.  I must have been early because the car was still closed, but they let me in to sit down.  It was nice to chat easily with the Chinese staff and they offered to cook me breakfast right there and then.  I haven’t met many Russian passengers yet, but so far they don’t seem to speak much English.  This is merely an observation not a criticism as my Russian ability is non-existent.  One of the attendants spoke to me in German as I tried to ask about the restaurant by miming eating to her, but I couldn’t even remember the word for ‘breakfast.’ Thanks goodness I at least have Chinese to help me in some situations.  It may not help me with the Russians, but at least I have a double chance of successfully communicating with someone. Language gives you power – it puts you in control of your destiny in a foreign land.

沈阳

9am: We just made the first stop, at Shenyang station.  Never one of my favourite Chinese cities, Shenyang actually ranks pretty low on my personal Chinese cities scale for likeability.  I remember the first time I saw Shenyang in the spring of 2006 as I finally stumbled off a train all the way from Guangzhou, 2 nights later.  I was desperate for a shower and hadn’t slept properly for the entire journey.  During my time living in Dandong and Dalian I made several trips to Shenyang, mainly to apply for Korean work visas at the unhelpful embassy there.

长春

The train started moving again, pulled out of Shenyang station and headed off towards Haerbin.  According to my 2003 edition of the Trans-Siberian Handbook there are two stops between Shenyang and Haerbin.  Siping, a small nondescript industrial city, which I’d heard of but never visited and Changchun, provincial capital of Jilin and former capital of Manchuria when it was Japanese occupied and known as Manchukuo.  Volkswagen has a large factory in Changchun and my former colleagues often took business trips there.   After Changchun we reach Haerbin, city of ice and Russian architecture.  I went there in February this year to see the famous ice lantern festival, which is spectacular and worth the trip.

Yesterday at the hostel I was reading a blog by an Austrian called Helmut. He had made many long-distance train journeys and was a bit of a train enthusiast/geek. His blog was fascinating, especially the sections about his ambitious trip to North Korea by train from Moscow, in fact this very train that I’m riding on now.  He continued travelling past Beijing and into Pyongyang.  This isn’t so special, as I know it’s possible to catch this train from Dandong and continue into DPRK if you’ve previously made the right arrangements with visas etc.  But what made Helmut’s trip so adventurous was that he crossed the border not at Dandong, but further north from Russia at a point supposedly off-limits to Western travellers.  Helmut noticed that on his Vienna-issued North Korean visa it listed the name of this border crossing point as a default destination. He decided to cross and made it successfully over the border, getting some rare and interesting photos, and finally reached Pyongyang by train. Helmut wrote that the crossing wasn’t problematic, but that afterwards there were a few repercussions at the travel agency, who had gotten into some trouble with the authorities.  This might be the last time foreigners are allowed to cross at this border for a long time and Dandong might now be the only place.

I can smell myself already, so am wondering about the logistics of washing on this train.  There are no showers but in my car there’s an extra large bathroom intended for wheelchair bound travellers. It should be easy to strip down and wash using a cup of water.

Three additions that would improve this train immensely:

1. showers
2. power sockets in every compartment.
3. wifi

My cabin mates are two Asian looking Russian women.  They are mother and daughter from Ulan-Ude, a Siberian city near Irkutsk.  The girl speaks quite good English so we are able to have a conversation.  She tells me that they come from the Buryat ethnic minority in Siberia.

My planned attempts at learning Russian have been sabotaged by the insanely high level of my ‘Taste of Russian’ podcasts.  I’m still working on the Cyrillic alphabet though, because it would be helpful to be able to recognise place names.

四平

We just made a brief stop at Siping and it suddenly hit me that I’m going to miss China.  The sky was bright blue and even an uninspiring place like Siping looked cheerful.  The flat skyline outside was flanked with green fields scattered with little red roofed farms.  At times we passed something ugly, like a quarry or a smelting plant, reminding me that Liaoning province was once known as the ‘rustbelt’ of China.  The album ‘Charm of the Highway Strip’ was providing a predictable but soothing and perfectly apt soundtrack to this journey.  Twelve hours on the train so far and many more to go!

哈尔滨

3.30 pm and a stop at Haerbin gave us chance to stock up on essential supplies; snacks and drinks.  I saw an unusual two storey train, labelled ‘shuang ceng che’ (double floor train). It was very tall and looked interesting.  I asked the station guard about it, as I’d never seen one before, but he told me they are very common in China.

大庆

5pm and we’ve arrived at Daqing.  At dinnertime I finally made friends with the Russians in my compartment. We bonded over instant noodles, black bread and the Trans-Siberian Handbook.  The girl was 15 and named Altania. She spoke good English but her mum only spoke Russian. They pointed out their city Ulan-Ude to me and showed me the photo of the giant sculpted Lenin head.  The landscape around Daqing and beyond is very bleak and flat just deserted grassy plains scattered with swampy patches.  Between Daqing and Manzhouli are a string of anonymous small towns.

I just found out that the train will cross the Russian border at 3am tomorrow. I prepared myself for a disturbed night and decided to try and sleep early, as the border crossing will definitely be a long process.  I read that the train attendants practically drag sleeping passengers from their beds to complete border formalities, but my experience was nothing like this.  I spent the rest of that evening reading and people-watching in the dining car. There were two groups of passengers that looked to be in the mood for a party. One bunch of uniformed Chinese train workers played an excitable game of Chinese chess in the corner. The other group of Chinese guys and one Russian (who I overheard speaking excellent English – I only assumed he was Russian, he could have been a native English speaker) came in, ordered a bottle of baijiu (Chinese rice vodka – very strong alcohol – vodka is a hundred times more palatable) and settled in for the evening. I could smell the baijiu as soon as they opened it.

The Russians I’ve seen so far have a distinctive look that’s hard to describe.  Many of the girls wear tight revealing clothes and a lot of makeup. Often, the overall effect makes them appear slightly seedy, at least to my overly critical western eye.  The men I’ve seen on the train look rough and quite intimidating, with strange haircuts and cheap sports clothes. It seems not uncommon for the average Russian  citizen to live rather a hard life, even though Moscow is one of the richest and most expensive cities in the world. Maybe, like China, wealth is concentrated in the hands of the few while the general population remains relatively poor.

The guidebooks and blogs I’ve read often talk about the warmth and friendliness of the Russian people. When I encountered Russians in Dalian, this had never struck me on first impression, often quite the opposite.  But my cabin mates on this train have been exceptionally friendly and hospitable.

I’m starting to settle into train life, although it would be nice to find some fellow English speakers as my Russian is truly non-existent and the mp3s I downloaded before the trip have let me down big time, as the level of Russian is much too high.

Day 1: August 29th, Beijing

北京火车站

I arrived an hour early for the train and asked a station attendant for directions. He replied, “Really? There’s a train to Moscow?”, like he’d never heard of such an amazing thing.  The second attendant knew about the train and directed me to the correct platform.  There was already a large crowd gathered around the gate.  There were lots of foreign faces in the crowd, mainly Russians.  A few families, some young girls and couples made up most of the foreign group.  I didn’t see anyone who looked touristy like me.  The Russians didn’t look very friendly; in fact they looked like most of the Russians I’ve seen around Dalian, rather sullen and dour.  Hopefully that’s just a first impression and I’ll see the other side of the Russian people during this trip.

When the gate was finally opened I dragged my luggage onto the platform down a huge flight of stairs (no escalators, good thinking China!).  Waiting for us there was the dark red train, with MOCKBA – PEKIN painted on the side, ready to run the Trans-Manchurian route.  The train attendants waited on the platform by the doors of each car. Mostly middle-aged Russian women, they all wore matching navy uniforms and the typical Russian expression.  I found my car and handed my ticket to the attendant who showed me to my bunk and then left me to my own devices.  Later she returned with my bed linen, calling me Madam as she handed it to me. I could already hear the chink of bottles as the train started to move away from Beijing station with some loud ominous clunks.  It’s lucky I don’t fear trains as those sounds on a plane would have scared me half to death.  Loud Russian voices came down the corridor and I wondered if I was the only non-Russian speaker on the train.  I hoped that someone spoke English or at least Chinese.  In my compartment, there were two Asian looking women.  But the language they were speaking to each other wasn’t Chinese, it was Russian.  By now it was almost midnight and the lights went off. The compartment fell silent as we all drifted off to sleep.

Beijing to Moscow

My route is marked in yellow spray paint.

This is the first part of my journey and the longest non-stop train ride I will take. Because I only have a Russian transit visa, I won’t be able to leave the stations when the train stops. Beijing to Moscow takes 6 days…

Preparations – the final days in China

I’ve spent the last 2 days holed up in a Beijing  hotel room, relaxing and preparing for the big trip. After the intensity of Jinju, relaxing feels like a guilty pleasure.  Once again, I stayed at the Sanlitun Youth Hostel in the heart of the embassy and bar district. This time I booked my own double room, to give me space to spread out all my belonging, take stock and spend some time alone. Dorm rooms here are good value, but I’m going to spend the next 6 nights in a train ‘dorm’, so I want some peace and quiet while I still have the chance.

Getting my Russian transit visa was pretty straight-forward. Making the application was a little annoying, mainly because we had to queue outside the embassy for almost 2 hours. But once I got inside, the staff were fairly helpful and it was a quick albeit expensive process. I went back the next morning to collect my passport and was in and out in ten minutes. I even got a 100 yuan refund on the visa fee, with no explanation, so I guess they overcharged me yesterday. I didn’t complain or ask questions, just took the money and left.

For entertainment on the train, I’ve been stocking up with ebooks, real books, podcasts and music. The Trans-Siberian Handbook and Lonely Planet warn against taking too many books, as they say you won’t have time to read them all. Apparently there’s a mad social life on this train, which I’m curious to experience.

Trans-Manchurian

Flying? Not for me. I prefer to be adventurous and experience the ‘real’ journey, just like Paul Theroux or Ewan Mcgregor.

Who am I kidding? I hate flying with a passion that borders on phobia.  But I also like adventures, and this is an unmissable chance to have one.

The main part of my journey will be spent on board the ‘Vostok’, travelling from Beijing to Moscow via Harbin and old Manchuria.  As I only have a Russian transit visa, I won’t be able to get off the train at any point between Beijing and Moscow, except at brief station stops. The Vostok will literally become my home for six whole days.

Arriving in Moscow in the evening of Friday September 4th, I can then spend 72 hours sightseeing in the city. However I need to be out of Russian territory before those 72 hours are up, no matter what. Russian immigration is extremely strict, so I’ve heard.

(Note: the photo at the top of my blog is not mine. I hope to get some nice ones of my own after the trip. I got this one from http://www.flickr.com/photos/90715281@N00/1600507676)