I left my rubles in Russia – part chetyre

 

So one day when pressed for time we popped in to a Sbarro Pizza place for a quick lunch.  Did I mention those things were everywhere? I mean, on many a trip to the mall growing up I have eaten a deliciously greasy ginormous slice of sbarro pizza, but I can probably count on one hand the places I have seen those things at home.  Not the case in Russia.  Considering we spent a great deal of time in tourist traps, I saw only 2 McDonalds the whole time, but probably saw a dozen Sbarros.  There were 3 in the Moscow airport and you could see all locations from one spot.  Madness I tell you. 

Anyway, there we were eating.  We had spent plenty of time seeking out unique restaurants during our trip, but like anything where you have to eat out ten days in a row, sometimes you just pick the place next door.  Inside and seated with our trays of food, we realized that the TVs above our heads were playing back-to-back-to-back Ace of Base music videos.  This was just awesome.  For one, I had no idea that they had more than a couple of hits, but when each new song would come along, we would happily hum along and discuss which skating rink or school dance that particular song represented to us.  As we were watching the bizarre cinematography, moody 90s attire (crushed velvet, leather, army boots, mullets) of this Swedish band of yore, it occurred to me that THAT was Russia as I had come to know and love.  Bowler was not as impressed with my ‘aha’ let’s-compare-the-whole-country-to-a-90s-band-generalization moment.  I’m just saying, it reminded me of some of the people watching in the city in a totally not a bad thing resemblance.  It was deliciously European. I loved it.

But post lunch, we had some more exploring to do from inside the Kremlin walls!

 

Can you spot the Sbarro still stuck in my teeth? Many more rounds of pictures happened before this was acknowledged.  Points for Bowler for finally getting it off my tooth after about four minutes of me saying ‘and now did I get it?’ That’s friendship folks.

On some of the buildings in and just outside of the Kremlin (the Red Square/Kitay Gourd area), the construction was covered up by a false wall designed to look like the exterior of that building.  Seriously, can you tell that the picture below has not real windows and a crane peeking out from behind.  So much more scenic. 

While in the Kremlin it was pretty limited with what we could see.  Only so many tickets were available to the exhibits in a few buildings.  If you weren’t there at the precise moment they went on sale, Nyet tickets for you.  One exhibit we were able to see however was the Diamond fund, which is basically the crown jewels for the last few centuries.  Holy smokes that stuff was magnificent.  Also if you make jokes with the hilarious Australian ladies in your tour group and raise your voice to laugh you will be promptly scolded in Russian.  Then you will get the giggles and it will be worse.  Those guards are all business.

 

And then of course we left a little time for some shenanigans before we left Red Square.

Next stop was a traditional Ukranian restaurant.  Complete with kitschy flair for us to use while dining.  You know we were all over that.

 

We were famished by the time we sat down to eat and when bread and mystery dipping stuff was put in front of us we didn’t hesitate to dive in.  The proceeding conversation was all of us guessing the ingredients of the then unidentified dip which tasted like something delicious and fatty.  Was the base butter? mayo? ‘Guys, I looked it up in the guidebook, it’s lard’.  We all exchanged slightly grossed out looks, and then proceeded to eat some more. Fat is tasty stuff, no surprise there. 

 

What was a surprise was my entree.  I was trying to order something intriguing with no guarantee on taste or presentation.  Nailed it. Our waiter brought it long before the other dishes and accidentally gave it to Bowler first. We looked at it with intense curiosity for like five minutes before asking the waiter what the onion/jello cake was.  Turns out, that was my order of ‘Herring in a fur coat’. It was a layered casserole of sorts, served cold, with the fish/potato mix on the bottom and layers of carrots, beets, and beet Technicolor sour cream on top.  Truthfully, it was kind of gross.  Cold fish in a non sushi type of plating was hard for me to wrap my mind around. 

Also, the sickly Bowler had ordered some sort of pear beverage with the hopes it might soothe her throat.  When the waiter enthusiastically recommended it after she pointed to it on the menu, he asked Rosley and I if we would like samples. He didn’t know tons of English, but he did use the word sample.  What the hell, we thought.  Then he brought us large steins (damn, not samples) of a root beer like concoction.  Maybe it was more like non alcoholic beer.  In any event, it was not a great pairing for a cold herring casserole.  It’s cool though, I ordered dumplings also and then helped myself to Bowler’s lard mashed potatoes.  Which were the stuff dreams and thunder thighs are made of. Holy moly was that good.

And with that meal (last supper?) our trip had come to a close and we headed back to the hotel for packing and an obscenely early wake up call for the train. 

I can’t say it enough, Russia was amazing, wonderful, fascinating, superlative superlative superlative. I am grateful to my friends who made this little adventure happen.  I feel so fortunate that I had the opportunity and that all the stars aligned for such a fun and enriching trip.

I also felt like it was such a fascinating time to be visiting Moscow.  With communism now twenty years behind Russia, it seems like much had been developed to make the city like other major European cities (technology, global businesses, universal languages).  It felt like that place would have looked so different ten years ago and will look so different ten years from now.  And that my friends is the beauty of travel.  These foreign destinations put their imprint of that point in time in our passport, hearts, minds, and collection of fur hats (which has gone from 0 to 1).  You put your imprint, however incrementally, on the local economy and everybody is better off for it. Let’s go abroad again soon, da?

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And now, for your moment of zen: Rosley  at the crack of dawn in Moscow with too-long pants that were tight rolled, her luggage backpack, duffle full of clinky vodka bottles and some industrial strength tobacco packed Russian cigarettes. A sight to behold. 

bahahah.

Dasveedanya!

What is this, Russia? – part tri

So where were we? Oh yes. We had been having an amazing week in Moscow.  We had walked all over the place (I even wore out a pair of flats while over there), seen some touristy stuff and ate a whole bunch of food of varying levels of eye-brow raising texture and flavor.

But enough of the city life.  We longed for the fresh air of the country! For the rural Russia where subway systems and Japanese food were not so readily accessible.  Where we could hum ‘green acres’ and try to replace the words to something applicably Russian via our phrasebooks.  To Sergiyev Posad we went! 

This town lies along Russia’s‘golden ring’ which is made up of ancient villages between Moscow and St. Petersburg.  We took the train out of the city, without a map of the train system (it was by the grace of God that we finally found the right train to get on, and the train station itself for that matter).  We asked people around us, the best that we could, if we were in the right place.  When they made a stop and announced Sergiyev Posad (in Russian of course) we had mistakenly assumed we had arrived (not true, it was up next).  Getting off on the wrong stop was tricky because of course we had no phones, spoke no Russian and the further from the city we were lessened the chances we could find English speaking help if we needed it.  Also some of those rural stops were dirt tracks into a town (you hope?). In short, it was an adventure. So as we attempted to get off on the wrong stop, the Babushka (older lady) a step ahead of us literally shoved us back on the train as it started to move. We frantically repeated the name of the town (at that point the only thing we knew to say), and she pointed in the direction the train was moving.  And with that act of language barrier kindness we made it safe and sound to our destination.  God bless that woman wherever she is.

We actually had a few of people help us like that over the week.  A couple of times when we looked utterly lost and unabashedly tourist-like as we held up a colorful map of the city streets, someone would come up to us and point to the map then point to the street sign in whatever direction we were trying to locate.  All the while this good Samaritan would be unsmiling and looking like they could be cast in an Al Pacino movie where the character is incapable of being happy, wears a lot of leather and has a propensity for violence.  And yet, there they were helping us.  File that under not judging a book by its cover, sub-file cultural differences.

So once in Sergiyev Posad, we were wandering the streets from the train station and just generally walking towards the highest church dome we could see, we came across this beautiful sight:

and promptly inserted ourselves in the view:

Does it now somehow remind you of Florence Italy? It did me, and made me hope to not wait another ten years to jump across the pond.  As we got closer we found vendors aplenty:

This village is actually the origin of the Matryoshka doll, there were tons from which to choose. Even ones with Putin’s face if you were so inclined.

This village also is home to the Trinity Lavra, home of the Russian Orthodox Church and their most celebrated Monastery. We weren’t allowed to take photos if they would include the Russian Orthodox monks (which as far as I could tell dressed similar to Greek Orthodox ones). Ladies also required head coverings.  Good thing it was chilly enough that day for all of us to be sporting scarves anyway.

Look at the tile work Dad! The inside of these buildings were exquisite and my ho-hum pictures couldn’t capture there glimmering artwork and history in a million years. You’ll just have to take my word for it. It was like being transported back in time, and the detail work was breath taking.  Within the cathedral you could light a prayer candle, so there burned one that day in honor of my Grandmas!

We ventured out into the town for a little bit of the local fare.

Which as usual included dumplings.  Man oh man do those Eastern Europeans love their dumplings.  As always it was served with a glob (which is like five dollops) of sour cream and lots of fresh dill.  I also had a Bliney which is somewhere between a crepe and a pancake.  No matter how you slice it (is thickness the difference?) it is good with Butter. Am I right?

Then it was back to the train station to begin the very confusing process of trying to decode the train schedule.  Eventually we asked enough people and jumped on a train that seemed likely.  The exhale we shared after the train started moving towards Moscow was loud.  Mission accomplished.

Also getting a mink hat? That mission was accomplished too!

 

Back next with part chetyre (4) the final installation of my Russian chronicles.

Dasveedanya my druz’ya!