All I Know About Russia, I Learned From 007
When we first crossed the border from Mongolia into Russia, my National Geographic-fed expectations of a post-Soviet country were completely justified: heavy set women in oddly coloured clothing and head scarves waddling down the platform burdened with heavy shopping bags; unsmiling uniformed guards asking for my papers; several labourers at work, sweating under a hot sun, laying cobblestones on the platform; the Lada; and, arguably, the worst bathroom in Christendom. (Honestly, this bathroom would make even those of strong constitution whimper and consider the hedgerows; unflushable squat toilets, no running water, no electric lighting, few stall doors and, I’m told, urinals that drained onto the floor.)
However, after that initiation, which fit every Bond-esque thing I’ve learned about Russia, we’ve been pleasantly surprised at what we’ve visited. Marc already described our very enjoyable stay in Siberia, but that was just the beginning. We arrived in Moscow to some warm weather and an unexpectedly cultured, beautiful and modern city. I don’t know what I was expecting, exactly, but it was decidedly more Soviet, more mafioso, and alot colder. Except for the colder part, I couldn’t have been more wrong (I had to break out the long underwear for the last couple days). We saw some outstanding architecture and visited much glorified sites, like the Kremlin and Red Square, St. Basil’s Cathedral and the Kremlin McDonald’s.
We couldn’t not visit this Americanski institution while in the Motherland. I remember reading about the first McDonald’s that opened in Russia and how people lined up for kilometers to spend a week’s salary on a Big Mac and fries. We, too, lined up for what seemed like kilometers. Actually, it wasn’t so much a queue as it was a crowd of hungry people elbowing their way to the front with the zeal of those who smell the french fries. Marc and I split the tasks of ordering food and snagging a table and, after 30 minutes, were each successful. But we were the diligent ones. While eating, we watched several milquetoast tourists hesitate on the edges of the counter crowd before timidly trying to slide towards the counter and then hovering forever in order to get a table. You have to be ready! Money in hand! Elbow your way to the front and make eye contact with an order taker! Bark out the order, hand over the cash and prepare yourself for the retreat through the mob whilst balancing a tray of food. You have to be hungry for McDonald’s in Moscow.
The truth is, one of my favourite memories of the city is relaxing in a park in Kitay-Gorod, enjoying a couple of beers and watching the Russians go by. A few times, we were mistaken as Moscovites and I got to use one of my few Russian phrases, “Ya nye gavaryou pa Russky”. I try to mimic the accent of Xenia Onatopp from ‘Goldeneye’ when she says “Once again, Mr. Bond, the pleasure was all yours.” I’m understood better when I do.
Then, we traveled onwards to St. Petersburg. The people we met on our train trip who were traveling in the opposite direction all said the same thing, “Moscow was great, but St. Petersburg was better.” I couldn’t imagine what ‘better’ meant, exactly, because my lack of knowlegde about the city is shameful. Beyond the fact that it was, for a time, called Leningrad, I knew nothing.
Now, I know that it was a city built on marshland by Peter the Great, designed in the 18th century to be a Venice of the North. It is exceedingly beautiful. I can’t stop taking pictures of the buildings and canals and the buildings along the canals. We visited the Hermitage museum, world renowned (I’m so ashamed I didn’t know about it) for its monumental collection of classic and modern art. 
It is housed in the Winter Palace, former home of Catherine the Great, among others. We viewed the original fortress around which the city was founded, the Decemberist’s Square, where revolution is remembered, the Dostoevsky house, the Pushkin Literature cafe, and Nevsky Prospekt, the cultural heart of the city (which is why there is both a KFC and a Pizza Hut here). There is almost too much to look at, too many exquisite details and shades of history. I almost wish we were here in the winter time so I could see a Russia that more closely resembles what I imagined: a city covered in snow, people rushing through streets in fur coats, darting into steamy cafes for espresso, popping into warm bars for icy shots of vodka. Next time, I guess…
P.S. We ate caviar blinis in St. Petersburg. I don’t need to eat them again.
P.S. Who knew that Moscow has the most beautiful metro stations in the world?
