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Few cities find themselves as tangled in confusion and contradiction as modern day Moscow. Whether it’s the arsenal of Soviet cliche’s that lie barely hidden under a reflective cloud of post-communist fragility, or the newfound prosperity and outlying bleakness that muddle together to form a complex tapestry; Moscow can’t fail to leave a crater sized impact on the mind of the visitor.
Our time in St. Petersburg was drawing to a close and soon we were off to Moskovsky station for a midnight departure on the Krasnaya Strela, or Red Arrow overnight train – an antiquated monster of a thing that would be our reluctant home for the next 7 hours and 400 miles southeast to Moscow, and hopefully live up to its name and purpose as a sleeper train in the process.
St. Petersburg is a mix of the modern, the ancient, the graceful and the downright dingy. It’s historical centre is a UN World Heritage Site and described by many as an ‘Outdoor Museum of Architecture’. Meanwhile just outside this, there is visible poverty and a range of social problems. One would therefore be best advised to soak up the former, and actively avoid the latter.
After six hours sat motionless on the Sibelius Express, I jumped down onto the platform at ‘Finland Station’ and with it, took my first strides on Russian soil. Initially I struggled to grasp the reality of the moment. Russia, after all, always used to spark a strange sense of fascination somewhere inside me. I never believed I’d see it. Yet now here I was, about to step out into one of its cities.
Ever since I was young, I thought of Russia as being somewhere untouchable and alien – a nation seeped in history and iconic imagery, yet a place I never truly believed i’d see. Fast forward many years, and remarkably, I now had the chance to. The day that I had been anticipating with a mixture of apprehension and excitement was finally upon me – I was about to set foot in Mother Russia.
