Russia: Fear and longing in Mockba

Russia - even just Moscow and St Petersberg - has a lot to offer. One week there is far too little

Stacked against the dirham, Russia, like India, is a cheap holiday. If you buy crystal and porcelain and amber, then maybe not. But cheap enough if you meander along the streets, eat ice cream, and (inadvertently) get lost in Moscow - or Mockba as they call it.
The husband had work in Moscow for four days. I tagged along; when again was I going to get the chance? So, for 10 hours a day, he'd be at an office off-site while I'd roam the streets. We'd meet at dinner and swap tales of the day. After four days in Moscow, we went for two days of collective roaming to St Petersburg. And that was nice, too. Automatic consequence of company: there are more pictures of you near the winter palace and at Nevsky Prospekt, and at an Indian restaurant called Café Auroville, where we had a thali, and the dal was garnished with parsley.
Moscow
"Unsafe city, be careful, don't carry your passport on you, don't walk around alone, you'll get mugged"; I had read all this online. Nothing happened to me. But when one of the husband's co-workers got mugged, I was told to be especially careful, and not saunter off to the shadier parts of town. But who wants to only stick to touristy stuff? Or be that obedient?
It was raining when we landed in mid-July at Domodedovo International Airport. We must have had 'Loser Tourists' written all over us as the cabbie fleeced us straight off. Airport to hotel, we paid RUB 4,000 (almost Dh250). We didn't know better. When, some days later, we made friends with the locals, they had a good laugh.
My first impression of Moscow was the silence on the streets, and thinking nobody here wears shades, unlike in Dubai. Perhaps it's a city comparison more than a standalone fact. But it sounded like the clicking of heels and the flapping of umbrellas were dominant sounds.
For the next few days, all I did was walk and take photos and eat. I have photographs of old ladies, and young ladies, photos of the blue and green and golden onion domes of churches, of noiseless areas that I walked around, a photo even of a construction worker who said, "Photo! Photo!" to me, and gave me a broad smile. I took photos of ceilings at Metro stations, all arched and aglow with the light of chandeliers, hanging from a time before the stern, boxy, communist-era architecture replaced aesthetics.
I have photos of ice cream carts, and the memory of how good my pista-flavoured, full-fat ice cream in that biscuit-waffle cone tasted at 11pm in a quite bright Lenin Square, next to that Disneyland-looking monument - St Basil's cathedral, ie, the go-to icon to illustrate anything Russian.
I have photos also of the copper kettles I fell in love with at an antique store and brought home. Photos taken at a Café Rossi, of a ceramic teacup at the base of which was written RAK ceramics, as in Ras Al Khaimah aka fellow Emirate. Apparently, you carry a bit of where you've been to wherever you go.
Feeling uneasy
Despite the fantastic Georgian lunches I had by myself, and some memorable lemon tarts with sea salt sprinkled on top, I would feel a twinge of defeat and self pity - and slight trepidation - when, after eight hours of weaving in and out of little lanes, shoe shops, Georgian grocery stores, bell towers and church compounds, I'd begin to retrace footsteps. Trepidation because when I'd look around for signs to the nearest Metro, I'd spot signs that were entirely in Russian. And then a drizzle would start. I tell you, it's much easier to frame church domes on film than document the feeling of being lost in a city with which you're unfamiliar, and missing an umbrella.
One morning, I decided to take off to a non-touristy isle called Botanichesky Saad - a park in north Moscow near the Vladykino station. It was a long way off and, even after getting off at the right Metro stop, I couldn't get my bearings. The garden and Metro were a kilometre apart. Only the third person I asked for directions was helpful. The two people before him who I had asked moved away from me, so it hadn't exactly been a comfortable quarter of an hour. not till I found the place, and not till I got my first view of the main building of the Moscow Botanical Garden of Academy of Sciences - the largest in Europe, with a massive oak forest for a backyard.
I don't have pictures of this other time, of the man walking ahead of me on the Bolshoi Moskvoretsky Bridge (where Boris Nemstov was shot). He turned back and winked at me. Harmless enough, and a Delhi girl should be used to it. But the mind plays tricks. The silent streets give rise to unnerving thoughts. I slowed down and took a different route. Turns out when you're not feeling the safest, you take fewer pictures.
Excuse me, do you speak English?
Save for major tourist zones - Red Square, Lenin's mausoleum, St Basil's Cathedral - nothing is marked in English. Locals may not know what you're on about when you ask for directions. Best tactic is to smile, appear pathetic, and say 'da' and 'spasibo' (yes, and thank you) so they know you're at least trying.
If you get intimidated at the odd scowl, the general quietness of the streets, the lady behind the counter at the Okhotny Ryad Metro station telling you in Russian to (presumably) not waste her time, you might have a problem. Mostly though, I found, they may not understand a word, and your interaction may leave you no better informed, but you can share a smile with strangers. They don't know what you asked; you don't know what they answered - but both smiled, so it's all good.
I do have pictures of some of the street musicians. Some faking it on their cellos, speakers behind them emitting Louis Armstrong tunes. It is nice, when you're walking alone in a new place, to hear strains of What A Wonderful World. One night, at a lively restaurant called Fany Cabany, we even heard strains of Gangnam Style sung in Russian.
There's a lot going on in Moscow. It's imposing, it's fun, it's dark and it's beautiful. Couple of lines on a subway wall, attributed to Pushkin in watercolours - and in English that too - say: "Moscow... how many strains are fusing/ in that one sound, for Russian hearts!/ what store of riches it imparts!"
The food, oh the food!
Unlike their friends, the Americans, Russians eat normal-sized portions. If you split one dessert into two, you get barely a spoon and a half each (of consistently outstanding desserts). The vegetables and fruits taste fresh. Their dairy is top of the line. And I was surprised to find so much good sushi in Moscow (with wasabi squished out of those cake icing bags, from nozzles, to form little green flowers.) "Pectopah" (restaurant) became my favourite Russian word. And I was relieved to have the option of more than elk/ deer/ horsemeat at most Pectopahs.
St Pete's and the Touristy Stuff
I liked Moscow. But I liked St Petersburg a bit more for the playful vibe. We arrived on a Saturday afternoon, left late Monday morning. All we had was the whole of Sunday to take in everything. We must have walked 12 hours that day, drunk 10 bottles of water, eaten two apple crumbles, and seen God knows how many postcard sights, forts, cathedrals and palaces, all of which, after too much walking, suffer your under-appreciation. No Swan Lake, either. The fact that we didn't see any theatre in Moscow added to it being a cheap holiday.
A couple of the sights that endure, for me, from only one full day in St Pete's are one of a pink balloon on that first afternoon when we were walking by the Fontanka river. And one of a local shaking his head on Sunday morning, when he asked us what all we'd seen so far and we told him. He shook his head again, and gave us a few tips - one that was "to please, for godssake, see the cathedral" before we left. Then he physically lay down (!) to take a bottom-up shot of husband and wife against the gorgeous winter castle. It was a lovely comic moment. And the smiles of the husband and I in that picture aren't put on. What one reads online of a place doesn't always hold true. People in Russia, I found, are as nice and disparately tempered as they are elsewhere - and no more than you and I. nivriti@khaleejtimes.com
HOW TO GET TO THERE
Direct Emirates flight from Dubai to Moscow. Stay in any hotel/ bed and breakfast close to Red Square in Moscow. And in St Petersberg, any place within walking distance of Nevsky Prospekt. From Moscow to St Petersberg, take the train. It's a beautiful countryside (even though flights are cheaper than trains.)
HOPPING ABOUT TOWN:
Metro stations aglow with the light of chandeliers Posers take pictures against the backdrop of St Petersberg
Musicians in medieval clothing set up stage on grassy banks of canals and bridges during summer carnivals
A couple of the only signs written in English Matryoshka dolls at a souvenir shop