Today was the day of our walking tour followed by a visit to the Kremlin, tomorrow we're off to St. Petersburg.

Prompt and on time, as ever, we made our way to the meeting point via the venerable & friendly metro system. As it turned out we were early when we met our diminutive young Muscovite guide and two fellow tourists from Malaysia. A few minutes later another ‘tourer’ arrived, a New Zealander who said he was from Australia. So which was it? Melbourne, was his reply. But he said it "Mulburne". New Zealander. Then it seemed we were ready to go. Then thirty Dutch tourists from the same hostel arrived. Perfect. The guide also then reminded us that we couldn't go into the Kremlin today, it was closed. Because it's Thursday. What the hell does that mean? After being brutishly battered on the metro and swamped by lowlands tourists we weren't in the mood for this bad news.


As soon the tour set off the thirty-something year old NZ tourist set to spading (remember that term?) a 19 year old girl from the Dutch contingent. From shameless eavesdropping it transpired that the Dutch were all on the verge of graduating from a communications degree. Despite this most of their communication seemed to consist of MTV catch phrases and utterly stupid comments or questions. For example, when we stopped at a statue to commemorate the Russian general hailed as the hero who halted the German advance towards Moscow, one of the more extroverted Dutch boys, sporting a blue cast on his wrist which I can only imagine was earned whilst trying to put both legs of his trousers on at once, asked earnestly “Can you climb it?". What? This was a 25 foot high statue of a man on a horse on a concrete block, why would you want to climb it? The tour guide was obviously confused by the question so the Dutch guy repeated it several times, being a communications peri-graduate after all, "Can you climb it?". "Is it possible or is it allowed?" asked the guide trying to clarify. "Allowed?" said blue-wrist. "I don't know, No-one in Russia has ever wanted or tried to climb it so we don't have a rule" replied the guide. Honestly. Only this Dutch idiot could make the Russians public behaviour seem sensible and demure by comparison. Good grief.

The tour wound past St. Basil's, the GUM and Red Square that we had seen yesterday. Today, though, there were a lot more seats and markers in the blue, red and white of the Russian flag to be seen in Red Square. Our guide explained that the decorations were being installed for the 9 May celebrations when Russia commemorates the repulsion of the German forces in WWII or as the Russians call it 'The Great Patriotic War'.


It had been evident from the beginning of the tour that our guide, a twenty-something female Muscovite uni student, was quite nationalistic and it sounded as though history was taught with Russia always assuming the moral high-ground - ever the valiant resistor of oppression and invasion. Sometimes this sounded quite conservative, especially when describing how no-one likes illegal immigrants cos they are ruining Russia and Russians can't get rich enough because of them (I think Tony Abbot would like it here). This single -sided nationalism was more evident when describing 'The Great Patriotic War'. According to 21st century Russia, the war began in 1941 when Germany invaded the USSR. Not in 1939 when Stalin allied with Hitler & invaded Poland. There were many Russians, from Siberia to Moscow, wearing orange & black striped ribbons of St. George in commemoration of those who died in the War, just like us with our poppies on Remembrance Day. But it seemed odd that they should have such a different idea on the same events. It makes you wonder how distorted the West's view of the war, and the world, might be. After all, history is written by the victors. And we've put a Starbucks at the Kremlin, the Forbidden City and the Reichstag.

We gathered next to watch the changing of the guard at the eternal flame. This was a small parade of just 5 troops but was complete with all the goose-stepping we'd been hoping for. The highlight, however, was the moment of change over. Both soldiers cocked their heads to the side and regarded each other sideways. It was like two pigeons sizing each other up. Completely hilarious.


Only the children could get away with laughing though, everyone else feared the gulag. After this we filed past a metro stop and some museums with requisite explanations of how Russians are better than most at anything. We then arrived at the Cathedral of Christ the Saviour. This stood on the site that it had before it was blown up 80 years before in order to be replaced by the Palace of the Supreme Soviet, the 8th of Stalin's Seven Sisters. To explain - the cathedral had existed since 1883. It was demolished by the Soviets to be replaced by the Lenin-topped tower described previously. During the war the 'Big Lenin' was abandoned and a big swimming pool built instead (it's easy to dig a hole after all). After the fall of communism the cathedral was precisely rebuilt to the actual 19th century designs. So we all stood and duly photographed the 20 year old cathedral from 1883.


The cathedral was the end of our little tour and we tried to quickly avoid being asked to go lunch by the New Zealander. It is perhaps a bit unfriendly but the guy basically brought the whole Southern Hemisphere into dispute. He tried so many poor jokes typified by his performance outside Basil's Church. The guide had been trying to explain that Vasiliy was mentally affected. She had been saying 'mentally sick', 'disordered', 'diseased'. "Retarded!" exclaimed Mr. NZ. Even the Dutch looked shocked.


Fortunately we escaped and headed off to the metro to go out to a flea market that the book says is perfect for good souvenirs, etc. Typically the map wasn't great. The directions were worse. Get off the metro and "follow the crowd". The four other people who got off at this metro stop, deep into the Moscow burbs, went in four different directions. Using a compass we headed in the direction suggested on the map. There were both fleas and markets but nothing resembling what we were hoping for. There was a huge empty plot that may have been where it once stood.


But the map was on a scale of kilometers so it was next to useless. So we asked for help. Big mistake. To ask for help is to scream out loud that you have a horribly contagious disease. People could move quick enough to avoid us. Russian's indifference to polite behaviour moved to outright bastardry. "I can't read English!" exclaimed one businessman as he rushed away from us, "It's written in Russian!" we implored. He could only answer in meaningless vowels as he dashed for his life. Defeated we headed back to the hotel. Bumped into, cut off and pushed past all the way home. Then just as we were traipsing back we saw a bus crash into a police car. Ha! You guys are going to suffer. Probably the last car you want to crash into in Russia. At least we get to leave. You guys have to deal with Russians for the rest of your lives. Thanks for having us though (see? Manners).