A town we rolled through today had been flooded, perhaps from the flow of melting snow upstream. And we arrived into Moscow. Beyond this nothing really happened. We got up late (cos there was nothing to do) and resumed our respective electronic pastimes.

We were visited briefly by the train's crazy cat lady, all dressed up in her flowy mu-mu, mad red hair and a very hirsute black cat with luminous eyes but a sedated stare. She chatted away happily in Russian, quite aware that we couldn't understand a single word she was saying. Eventually she returned to her nest.


After a few idle hours we were there. Moscow. We were relatively unceremoniously dumped onto what felt a bit like a side platform rather than the culmination of an epic rail journey. So we marched along behind the army recruits onto the street and faced the 8 1/2 lanes of mad traffic. Driving in Moscow seems like driving in the rest of Russia just more. And faster. It’s as though when cars were first invented the Government laid down a few basic rules- red is stop, drive mostly on the right- and then said "Off you go!"


Given this relatively free framework drivers aggressively make the most of it. The wider boulevards in Moscow allows more room for serious speed to be achieved. Routinely cars would accelerate, hard, down empty lanes of busy roads only to break just as hard at the other end. This was also the case if pedestrians were crossing. The preponderance of powerful European SUV's, especially Porsche Cayennes, made increasing sense. Nowhere else we've been could you truly make use of formidable acceleration and also require a good few inches of steel cocooning you. The end result of pedestrian accidents must be gruesome. Fortunately our hotel was easy to spot occupying one of Stalin's 'Seven Sisters' - grand skyscrapers that were designed to match, and surpass, those going up in New York in the first half of the 20th Century. The full set was supposed to include an eigth super-tower. The top was to be adorned with a massive statue of Lenin complete with a library in his outstretched hand and a conference hall in his head. This awesomeness was never realised. The site that was earmarked for it was occupied by a cathedral.


Such theistic ostentatiousness was an affront to the Soviets so it was promptly demolished and turned into a swimming pool. However it was after this that Stalin realised its 'special energy' derived from its astrological and numerological significance which made it the appropriate spot for his mega-structure. Obviously some super natural mumbo-jumbos are more acceptable to Communists than others.

Having filled up on the train we both just wanted a snack for dinner. A quick walk around the block yielded little but a familiar sign with unfamiliar letters. It was a Subway. The toppings were less familiar. Where we expected lettuce there appeared to be cabbage. There was also unidentified orange blobs. Nonetheless we dived in with our worst Russian. Puzzled by what we were trying to say the 'Sandwich Artist' asked "Chicken Sub?" in perfectly understandable English. Tis was a welcome surprise. As was the quality of our subs which we enjoyed back in our room. We turned on the telly whilst planning our assault on Moscow - Hitler & Napoleon did just the same thing. A scroll through the channels revealed the usual list of traveler friends - BBC world, CNBC, Bloomberg and CNN. CNN with Anderson Cooper. And CNN with Becky Anderson. Kathryn doesn't like Becky Anderson. Pausing mid-mouthful, "I can't stand Becky Anderson and her face. Her eyebrows dancing all over the place.", she exclaimed. Watch out Moscow, Kathryn's coming for you. Better keep those eyebrows where we can seem them.