Moscow

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I pull out of Saint Petersburg on the evening express train and arrive at Moscow after 11 in the evening. I emerge from the train into light drizzle，the first unfrozen precipitation I've encountered on my trip。I dash out of the hulking train station and hop on a tube towards my hostel。 I've carefully written down the address in Russian this time, and the tube journey goes without a hitch. Unfortunately the tube station I get off at has numerous different exits and I don't have a map of the area。 It takes me nearly an hour of wandering around sketchy alleys until I find the right street (five minutes around the corner from the tube exit I took first). I check into the cramped and bustling Napoleon Hostel and settle down for the night。

The next day my first port of call is the Memorial Museum of Cosmonautics，a history of the Russian space program。The name of the museum suggests the space program is like an ancient and heroic war, despite the fact that it's still active, albiet on a rather smaller scale. Back in the 50s and 60s the Russian really were leaders of the pack, putting the first satellite into space, the first living thing and then the first human, all before the USA had got it's trousers pulled up。The museum had a great collection of old space hardware，and would have been highly informative except for the usual Russian practice of charging foreigners double the price for museum entrance and then having all the signs in Russian。The museum also has a fittingly astronomically tall statue of a rocket blasting off atop a huge plume of exhaust gases on top it， which is very impressive。

After that I'm off to the train station to buy my first trans-siberian ticket，leaving the evening after next。I find ticket vending machines which have an english language option。‘Great， this makes things much easier’ I think but after several attempt it just won't accept my card。So it's over to queue at the counter and use good-old sign language，while having a vodka-soaked station drifter whisper in my ear in slurred Russian before and remonstratring with the ticket lady over my lack of sympathy for him。

This achieved I head out to meet up with John Harrison，an English resident of Moscow and friend of my Mother's who she suggested I get in touch with。 After food John took me for an exhilerating night drive around Moscow。I find this huge city of eleven million people much more impressive by night. John races around the typical eight lanes of maniac traffic on the broad boulevards and sweeping elevated highways of central Moscow. The car seems to be the best way to get around Moscow。 Despite the large volumes of traffic I see much less congestion compared to London， with all its concessions to pedestrians. Vast，hulking buildings and neon signs sweep by as we swoop around city。 John entertains and informs with stories of living in Russia and its History while he points out the sites；these include the gargantuan Kremlin and seven huge identical art-deco sky-scrapers straight out of Gotham City which were built under Stalin。

That night I am tormented by the snoring from the man on the bed next to me. I am not usually fussy about where I sleep, and this sort of thing is to be expected when staying in hostel dorm rooms. This was something else entirely however. It was exceptionally loud, full of harsh rasping snorts and deep gurgles, punctuated by tiny hoots. They were without doubt the most bizarre and repulsive sounds I have ever heard a living thing make. I noticed on my way to the hostel that there was another similar looking one a few doors down on the same street and the next day I decide on an impulse to check in to it。Hopefully things would be better there。

After doing so I head out to visit the main sights of Moscow, including the Kremlin which I glimpsed the previous night. I start with Red Square, with Saint Basil's Cathedral at one end and the Russian National Museum at the other, and dominated by the vast presence of the Kremlin on the far side. The Kremlin, unusually for an active seat of Government is open to the public as a museum. And it really is huge, big enough to be a walled town in medieval times, with huge imposing walls and towers. Inside it has several churches, an armory, a treasury and a huge exhibition of gifts given to the Tsars by various foreign diplomats over the years. This takes up several hours. Next is Saint Basil's Cathedral, with its famous onion domes and red brick walls. Despite being the instantly recognisable land-mark of Moscow it smaller than I was expecting, and is completely dwarfed by the Kremlin to it's right. Next up is the Russian National Museum. All the signs are in Russian but I have an entertaining time guessing the history of Russia from the exhibits.

That evening I head back to my new hostel, get changed and head out for run. I run up the Moskva river, as there's a path and some parks beside it which are the most secluded places I've found in Moscow. I end up going a bit further than I intend, and return to the hostel starving hungry and rather zonked. As soon as I walk into the kitchen I meet my first Afro-Russians （at least I think they are，they're black and converse with Russians）。 They seem very friendly and insists I sit down to food with them、‘This is my kind of Hostel！’ I think and gratefully sit down。The fellow who invited me to food is so forecefully hospitible that he is ready to pin me down and when I so much as get up for a glass of water。

He then insists on giving me a pair of paper thin cotton slippers to wear，as the hostel has a no shoes indoors policy。Feeling a little disconcerted，I accept, and the guy heads to the next room. Next a Russian who doesn't speek a word of English comes up and starts gesticulating at my feet. Eventually he brings over a girl who speeks a little English，who explains that he says the shoes belong to him （these are the crappiest little rags of slippers imaginable，only one step up from wrapping your feet in newspaper and there are dozens of pairs of them lying in hallway). Grateful to be rid of them I hand them over without argument. The next minute the charitible fellow who originally insisted on feeding and clothing me walks in and gazes at my bare feet in dismay. ‘I have given you shoes to wear， where are they？’ he cries in accusation。Flustered I try to explain。 There is much rapid conversation in Russian across the room， with frequent exasperated gestures at this destitute foreign beggar who is so simple cannot even be trusted to keep possession of the clothing his generous hosts have gifted me with。Eventually I am wordlessly handed an even more wretched pair of polyester slippers。

It‘s now getting late and the last thing I want to do is my laundry。 There is some already in the machine which I take out and put in a bag。The ever-helpful Afro-Russian chap comes over and pretty soon half the hostel，most of whom speak no english are helping the simple shoeless foreigner to operate the washing machine。 My clothes are put on a cycle twice as long as the one I wanted (I need to hang them out to be dry tomorrow and would also like to go to bed quite soon) and the bag of someone elses clothes already washed and wet nearly go in as well. I manage to reset the machine to a shorter cycle when no-one’s looking。I then go to politely hang out the clothes of the washing machine's previous user. The manager of the hostel insists I leave them, as she says the person should hang them up themselves. The Afro-Russian fellow arrives as soon as she turns her back to ask why I have not hung up the clothes。In disgrace I hang them up under his supervision.

After I have hung up my own and everyone else's laundry the respectable looking lady manager reappears。She murmurs conspiriatorially ‘By the way，you have anything to hide here，is no problem，you give to me，we sort out，ok?' She glances at the safe meaningfully. I express gratitude but say I have nothing to hide。She looks disappointed。When I am in the dorm，finally heading to bed， the Russian who accussed me of stealing his slippers sidles up and waves some money in my face while whispering something in Russian. I explain in English that I don't have a clue what he's saying. Eventually he gives up and wanders off, looking vaguely disappointed. So, they think I am too inept to operate a washing machine, too poor to afford my own pair crappy carpet slippers, speak no Russian, but am also running an international drug-dealing scam while I'm in the country?

There were two people in my dorm in the new hostel who snored loudly too.

As final warning, when I check out the next day， one of the other guys who worked at the hostel told me to be careful on the trans-siberian, 'the people in the Urals are not as nice as in Moscow.' As Russia has so far been the most perplexing and unfriendly countries I have ever travelled in this does not bode well。The sites of Moscow were spectacular though。

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