We only had the morning left in Moscow and having been denied yesterday today we were determined to see the it's showpiece. So like Napoleon before us we were staged for a lightening attack on the Kremlin, a blitzkrieg of Hitler's dreams. We set our targets, synchronised watches and then, like any famous military assault, we bought our tickets from the little booth out the front. This seemingly straight-forward step was made slightly more baffling by the ticketing instructions.

The tickets for the armoury, holding all the treasures of Russia, were sold in "Séances". We presumed this meant 'sessions', not 'communications with the dead'. The first 'séance' was at 10:00 am and tickets must be purchased 45 minutes before. The booth selling the tickets opened at 10:00am. So perhaps we were indeed meant to take out our Ouija boards and communicate with people from the past in order to buy tickets 45 minutes before they're available. In the end we bought tickets and went straight for the queue at the entry point.

The queuing was divided along racial lines. A 20 metre long 'blob' of Chinese tourist being corralled by Kremlin staff to keep out of the way and a thin queue of everybody else. On arrival of the surprisingly youthful and disinterested Chinese tour guides they tried to force their large group sideways into the 'others' queue. Finally we had Russian brusqueness on our side as the Kremlin staff chastised them and forced them to the 'groups' entry to queue properly. They moved off in matching beige resort wear and overtly branded cameras. We shuffled past the stern looking guards - they seemed positively annoyed that the Cold War was over and we outsiders were entering the inner sanctum of their Soviet World. Too bad, Comrade.


The Armoury contains the 'treasures of Russia'. This turns out to be quite an interesting array of homewares, clothing, weapons and transport of the extinguished Russian Imperial household. I have always wondered what 18th & 19th century monarchs wore on their feet and here I could see. The comprehensive clothing section revealed just how tiny Royal women were and just how fat the clergy could be. The weapons display included several examples of what to get the King that has everything - pistols for ceremonial shootings, guns for large slow animals, gold plated spikes. The gilded carriages attracted only slightly less attention than Gavin did when he set off the alarms for pointing too close to one of them. An irritated museum woman arrived to tell him off with a stern glare and a gold-plated spike. Upstairs were solid gold gravy boats the size of birdbaths and intricate chocolate fountains that looked like miniature water slides. There was even a genuine Faberge Egg complete with tiny, jewel encrusted model Trans-Siberian Railway train inside! Like a very up-market Kinder Surprise. All in all a good visit. Unless, of course, you already have lots of gold everything in which case it could drag.


It turned out that our tickets to the Armoury did not get us into 'the rest' of the Kremlin. So we ducked by the ticket booth for another séance. We then headed up the distinctive big red walls - walls so well known they were used by German bombers as a navigation aide, so the Russians painted them white. And so we entered the world's most famous kremlin, "kremlin" meaning fortress, the Kremlin (of Moscow). Surprisingly for the nucleus of a formerly brutal regime based on a philosophy of ardent atheism the grounds are full of churches. I suppose that's why they kept them hidden behind walls. Most were topped with distinctive golden onion-tops in varying numbers.


The Lonely Planet told us that one of these churches contained the original wooden throne of Ivan the Terrible. Of course it didn't. As a tour (rather than travel) guide the LP was perpetuating the Russian stereotype of 'figure it out for yourself, I'm not helping'. The church was however a startling introduction into the dazzlingly colourful interiors of Orthodox Russian churches. Unlike Roman Catholic or Protestant churches, which can impress with their scale or architecture but are generally pretty dour & dull, Orthodox churches hit you full in the face with a riot of colourful icons and tableaus on every surface.


Like kaleidoscopic religious wallpaper. In order to protect this technicolour ecclesiastic wonderland fortress the Russians have installed the world's biggest cannon, complete with world's even-bigger cannon balls. So big they don't even fit in the cannon. Probably just as well as it faces inwards towards the barracks. Finally, in order to guard the masses against all this religious ardour, the Communists have stamped their own serious mark inside the Kremlin. A huge concrete block known as the Palace of Congresses. Nothing provides better relief from colourful artistry than big solid concrete.


We continued our lightening attack of central Moscow with a return to Red Square with the intention of seeing the big dead man himself. Lenin. We arrived at the mausoleum where his body is, prepared for the protocols of visiting, having read-up last night. Unfortunately, however, the father of Soviet Russia wasn't available. The mausoleum was closed. It would seem Lenin was having a lie in. He was dead tired. He was confined to bed. He's being doing this for years and he's stuffed. He simply couldn't get up. After all the Lenin puns we could think of we decided to Let It Be.


Beside and behind the mausoleum we saw the bust of Lenin's former tomb-mate, Stalin. He was kicked out in 1961 by Khrushchev as they tried, sensibly, to distance themselves from Stalin's legacy. It is understandable that communists would want to preserve the recognition of a former leader and deny any real wrong-doing by their system of government. As such a bust might seem explicable. However the current "democratic" maintains it is interesting.


I don't know of any Mussolini or Pol Pot monuments. (Although Indians or Irish might point to British monuments of Victoria). What was also interesting was to see the reactions of several veterans, presumably of WWII, who were filing past the busts that make up the Kremlin Wall Necropolis. A few stopped and gestured to Stalin and talked amongst themselves. I would love to know what they were saying. We watched and studied their responses. Then we considered our own response. We gave him the finger and left for the metro.

We were now heading for St. Petersburg via our hotel. Along the way we were passing through some of Russia's most impressive railway efforts. Firstly at Revolutionary Square Metro station where the stirring soviet murals really made you understand the grandeur and awe that the soviets were aiming to imbue into the people. Marble walls, gold raised relief lettering and militaristic coat of arms. It looked as much a headquarters as a tube stop.



Next was train number seven of our transplanetary rail route. The 200km/hr Sapsan (meaning falcon) express from Moscow to St. Petersburg. Like in China, this new, sleek high speed train was a vast contrast to the almost antiquated looking long distance trains across Siberia. Now we felt back in the 21st century. Part of the reason may be explained (if Wikipedia is to be believed) by the fact that this is Russia's only profitable passenger train route.


The trip was generally comfortable taking 3.5 hours to cover the 650kms. I say 'generally' as Kathryn had a silent breakdown as she was driven berserk by the two women talking across from us. One nattered non-stop while the other kept a relentless series of "Mmm...uh-hmm...mm...uh-hmm..." grunts in reply. If you ever want to make Kathryn really mad then reply with a loud "MM, uh-hmm" to something she says. You are warned.

We arrived to stirring music being played over the platform at St. Petersburg. We don't know if this is a new thing for the Sapsan train or has being going on ever since the railway was installed (or if even it was for us). But it made the trip seem all the more significant. Our hotel was right next to the station so after dropping our bags and a quick check that CNN and BBC are still saying the same things on the hour, every hour we headed out for dinner. St. Petersburg felt another step further into 'proper' Europe. Attractive buildings, wide boulevards, impressive monuments. We passed quickly up the main street, Nevsky Prospekt, to our dinner venue, Terrassa.


On entering the restaurant it was apparent it was somewhat more 'la-di-da' than we are. But to her credit the cosmetically enhanced greeter that greeted us at the lift doors smiled broadly and spoke very good English and showed us to a table on the terrace at a suitably large distance from the more important, rich & beautiful people. The restaurant was impressive with a very nice dusk view over the town centre and menus printed to make them look like glossy newspapers. The menu itself contained a great variety of international fare- tapas, sushi, rabbit pie, pizza, anything.


As the sun sunk lower it got decidedly cooler and we wrapped ourselves in our jackets and scarves in a step wise manner and finally cocooned ourselves in the blankets that were offered to all outside. We enjoyed our food as the sun set changed the colours of Kazan Cathedral.