Brussels to London St Pancras Train #9139

A couple of hours in Brussels and we could have gone to see the weeing boy fountain OR we could go through UK border patrol and luxuriate in the feeling of nearly being back home. We chose the latter and had a large glass of Stella Artois- even more reassuringly expensive in a train station lounge! The train was due to leave at 2:30pm and it was a bit of a crush to get out of the departure lounge. Once on the platform we found our carriage and watched the rain falling down. The Eurostar is as smooth as advertised and it was an easy two hours, apart from Harry demanding to know when we would be going under the sea. We had been preparing him for days that the tunnel might be less dramatic than he had imagined but to no avail. "Where are the fish? When are we going under the sea?" "We ARE under the sea, but remember, we are in a tunnel." "D'oh...this is BORING."

We arrived back into St Pancras by 3:30pm GMT and were greeted by Liz, Tony, Clive and Oliver. We were finally home! After a couple of days of decompression later, we packed our waterproofs and headed to the Tate Gallery. It was lovely to see everyone; a big thank you to everyone who made it and to all those who weren't able to, but wished they could! The rain

It was a wonderful experience and, despite the fact that the children have probably been put off train travel for life, one of those trips that take a long time to work through their long term effects. We spent five weeks crammed together in a small metal box and didn't actually fall out with each other too much, we saw some remarkable things and met some lovely people; you can't really ask for much more in life, can you?

Cologne to Brussels Train #9428

We arrived in Cologne just as the first commuters were arriving to work. The twin towers of the Cathedral rose above the train station, in fact towered over the entire city- vast gothic edifices with a sign that proudly proclaimed UNESCO world heritage status. We had a look round as we had a couple of hours to wait for the train to Brussels. Harry wanted to know how old it was and who lived there. The answers of ‘Eight Hundred Years’ and ‘God’ didn’t seem to impress him too much, and when the massive organ started playing some archaic fugue he proclaimed, “I know this song, but I forgot what it’s called.” We took a photo outside of Harry doing his best ‘Damien Omen’ impersonation. Scary...

Back in the station Marcelle had found a Wi Fi hotspot and was trawling Facebook for all she was worth. Being a German train station it obviously had a wonderful block for having a shower, so we took a piping hot one to wash away the last two days of wearing the same clothes from Moscow (who said train travel was glamourous?). It didn’t take long before Maisie and Harry discovered the numerous pretzel and cake shops in the station and tucked in. The ‘Currywurst Express’ bratwurst in a bun was a particular favourite.

The train arrived, and we piled on to our first non sleeper train in five weeks. The Thalys trains are plush, fast and boast Wi Fi. Harry didn’t like the lack of space, but Maisie loved her own personal shelf, and had soon arranged her ‘Littlest Pet Shop’ pets having a nice chat with a Playmobil Ghenghis Khan we had picked up. That should make for an interesting conversation.

Moscow to Belarus #11 & #449 Belarus to Cologne

We arrived nearly two hours early at the station which was enough time to grab something to eat and a couple of beers. It was still incredibly hot in Moscow and we were a little worried about the kind of train we would get after our last experience. We needn’t have worried, the train was very modern and had air con- only it didn’t come on until we left the station, which left us slow baking for half an hour. There were only five carriages and they were all bound for individual places, one for Basel and one for Amsterdam, and we gained carriages and lost them on our route. The other odd thing was that the compartments all slept three people. The beds were vertically stacked on top of one another and they were smaller than we were used to. One of us could have gone into a carriage with a young couple, but we thought it would have been unfair to leave them with Harry...

One night and a morning brought us to the Belarus/Poland border where once again, passport formalities were all done in the comfort of our own carriages. We also experienced the changing of the bogeys as the guage changes 10 centimetres as it had done in Mongolia. We barely felt any movement as the carriages were hoisted aloft in a big hangar and then lowered back on to different rolling stock like so much Lego! Harry and Maisie were particularly impressed and hung out of the carriage doors 10 feet in the air!

After this we had a three hour stopover in Warsaw where our train turned into the 449, but we didn’t change carriage. It’s a shame we were one stop out of Warsaw, as the city centre beckoned to us over rooftops. Instead we found a shop to buy some provisions for our train meals (everyone point blank refused to look at a packet of instant noodles- even Harry) and a park for the children to run around in. We feel most definitely in Europe now, and everything is starting to get that familiar look about it! 24 more hours!

Top 5 Moments & Worst Toilet

Harry
1. Eating a curry Pot Noodle
2. Making friends with Hannah, Siorcha & Sally
3. Going on a horsey ride in Mongolia
4. Catching grasshoppers!
5. Racing the UAZ vans in the desert
Worst Toilet: On the last train (The 339)







Maisie

1. Staying at the Sihe hotel
2. Sleeping in a ger
3. Driving through the Gobi Desert
4. Meeting Siorcha, Hannah & Sally
5. Eating freshly cooked Ormul fish after a bath in the ‘baina’
Worst Toilet: The train from Hanoi stuck together with tape- yuck!





Marcelle

1. Standing on top of the world in the mountains in Laos
2. Seeing Hanoi for a third time- like an old friend!
3. Beijing hutongs and the cool ‘Beijingites’
4. The Gobi desert through cool, hot and rain
5. Sitting in Moscow and looking at how far we have come on our trip!
Worst Toilet: In the Gobi the toilets were really stinky until I realised I was going to the men’s loos! The women’s were fine.





Matt

1. Eating desert fruits just picked by our mad driver racing over the Gobi too fast in our pimped UAZ listening to Black Sabbath too loudly
2. The wide, wide open steppes of Mongolia
3. UAZ vans (‘they break down where no other car would go’)
4. The unexpected weirdness of the Plain of Jars
5. That all the planning paid off- it worked!
Worst Toilet: On the road to Hanoi at a pit stop cafe- they reeked and were right by the cooking stove...

Square & Fair

The VDV Paratroopers had all disappeared and all the military vehicles and police that had been outside Red Square were now replaced with souvenir t-shirt and Russian doll sellers. The Square was as impressive as these things should be and was a lot more complicated than I had realised. As well as the Kremlin wall and Lenin’s mausoleum (which is actually a small, squat structure) along one side, there is a massive department store (GUM) facing it. The other two sides are taken up by St Basil’s Cathedral and another church. It was a hot and hazy day and walking across the square was like walking across a giant frying pan. St Basil’s spires were described by Harry and Maisie as reminding them of:

• spiky dragons tail
• christmas crackers
• buddhas head
• squeezed out toothpaste
• wizard’s hat
• durian fruit
• two pineapples
• jackfruit
• hot air balloon

All of those descriptions were very apt. The building is certainly iconic and is even a bit preposterous.

After being in the heat we escaped into the GUM department store. The initials stand for State Department Store, but I don’t think old Lenin opposite would find Versace and Louis Vuitton to be very stately. The building itself is lovely and looks like a bigger, posher Covent Garden with three main galleries over four floors, spanned with wrought iron bridges that are reminiscent of Venice. We had a meal on one of the bridges and looked down on the high end shops that were devoid of customers. Harry was particularly impressed with the vintage cars that were on display.

We are now back in the hotel, have checked out and waiting in the cafe for a taxi to take us to the train station. Two nights on the train should bring us to Cologne and then back home!

We Humbly Request

For those of you who can, you are cordially invited to our picnic to celebrate us crossing 10 borders, 7 capital cities, one desert, a great wall and 11,000 kms. We will be outside the Tate Modern, at 1pm Saturday 7th August. Bring a blanket, umbrella and some sandwiches! Can't wait to see you!

MMM&H

xxxxxxx

The Boys are Back in Town

I wasn’t sure if it was normal for Moscow, but I immediately began noticing lots of men wearing skin tight blue and white striped vests and powder blue berets at jaunty angles on their heads. At first, it was a job for the Fashion Police, then I wondered if it was a Moscow version of Gay Pride, and finally I settled on hopeful applicants for the latest Jean-Paul Gaultier advertising campaign. As we arrived at the closed gates of Red Square it all became apparent. ‘Why is Red Square closed?’ asked a fellow tourist. The guard on duty looked a bit uncomfortable and I asked Jane, our guide. She explained that these guys were not on their way to a Judy Garland festival, but that they were the VDV, the elite Russian paratrooper division. Today was their veterans day, and because they liked having such a good time, they had to lock up Red Square for it’s own good!

The VDV patron saint has his holy day on the 2nd of August and we had stumbled right into the middle of it! As we walked round you could hear chants of ‘VDV! VDV!” and I then spotted lots of groupies in skimpy striped tops being carried aloft by drunken partroopers. One of their traditions is to take a bath in Moscow fountains and it wasn’t long until we found what looked like a Roman orgy; piles of clothes everywhere, soldiers in tight CCCP undies in a fountain that was running red with wine (although I suspect it was actually red food colouring). A small table had been set up and there was an arm wrestling championship going on. I sidled up for a photo and one of the beefy troopers turned to me and lay a giant mit on my shoulder. Was he going to rope me in? Had I upset him? No, he actually asked me if I had a light. ‘N-n-no.’ I replied.

Elsewhere that afternoon we saw small groups of VDV, running through the Metro, climbing on things and generally being a menace to the status quo. It was kind of like  a camp freshers week on testosterone.

From Russia With Love

After our first impressions of Moscow yesterday we were then taken out by Jane, a city guide who did her best to show the best side of the city. The first thing to be done was a lesson in how the Moscow Metro works and how to decode what all the cyrillic means. The underground is as noisy and shabby as the London Underground but the carriages are wider, the trains rattle along faster and the stations are higher and more cavernous. They are also highly decorated and ornate, and although we saw a couple of amazing examples of chandeliers, Jane gave us the locations of some even more impressive ones to explore later.

We then walked around the city centre and took in the sights of the Bolshoi, the old wall and the outside of the Kremlin. Moscow’s heat wave continued unabated, and although it is a lot cooler than the week before, it still stated 38C on thermometers and it felt just about as hot as Bangkok gets at Songkran. We dived inside what used to be a sumptuous dance hall salon, but is now a Muscovite version of a Tesco metro, past statues and monuments and down to the gates to Red Square. Unfortunately they were locked (see next post) but Maisie and Harry made a wish on a traditional golden square outside the gates. You flip a coin and if it lands eagle side up, then your wish will come true- both Harry and Maisie were lucky! Maybe their wishes were granted, as we headed for Moscow’s biggest toy shop, spread out over four floors.

We were pretty exhausted with the heat and had tried drinking copious amounts of water, summer smoothies and ‘kvass’, a kind of non alcoholic beer made from bread. We dived into some shade in a little restaurant behind the Bolshoi and I felt a little better after a couple of glasses of ice cold Baltika beer. We had a lovely meal, sitting outside and people watching (every few minutes Maisie would point at a questionable dress sense and shout ‘Fashion Police!’). Then the waitress brought out some deserts as a ‘gift’- how lovely! And delicious they were too. We headed back to Chekovsplaya Metro and took the Metro back to the hotel, exhausted, but glad we’d seen another side to Moscow.

From Russia With Antipathy

We were picked up in the pre dawn darkness by a driver and deposited at the Zarya Hotel.  We were still swaying from the effects of four nights on the train and looking forwards to a shower like you would not believe. We got to the room, turned on the taps, and no hot water. I phoned through to reception. “We appear to have no hot water.” “Yes sir, it will be fixed in two hours.” “TWO HOURS! WE HAVE BEEN ON A DIRTY TRAIN FOR FOUR NIGHTS WE HAVE TO HAVE A SHOWER NOW!!” was my response to that. Ten minutes later there was a knock at the door and I hastily put back on my filthy train clothes. “We go now. New Room.” said a porter. The new room was two floors up in another wing of the hotel. Great.

Everyone then dressed again and packed up bags that had been instantly disgorged in the ten minutes we’d been here. Luckily for everyone involved, we were upgraded, but still there was no hot water coming out of the shower. The porter could see my eye twitching like Chief Inspector Dreyfus in the Pink Panther movies and quickly showed me that there was hot water for a bath. It was a big jacuzzi style thing, and we all jumped in like a victorious football team in a communal bath. Even the usually cleanliness resistant Harry felt better after a soak (although his feet still look a little suspect...)

After this reviving dip we then set off to find out what was going on near the hotel and get our bearings. The air outside was choking with pollution. Moscow was suffering from an unprecedented heatwave and it felt just like being back in Bangkok. Only Bangkok with ugly people. We walked past blokes having their morning litre of beer and made our way gingerly by wrecked Ladas and piles of broken bottles. Crossing a railway line we came to a market that was like a cheap and nasty version of Walthamstow market (if you’ve never been to Walthamstow, you won’t realise how bad this is...) We wandered round, looking for a cafe to have a drink, but it the same old problem that you just can’t tell what is inside a particular building unless you read Cyrillic. We despondently headed back to the hotel, only to be accosted by a fifty year old glue sniffer. Moscow. Good first impressions then...

Irkutsk to Moscow Train #339

Day 1

Well, it couldn’t all be a bed of roses, could it? Train 339 was probably used in a previous life to transport prisoners to the gulag. It is old, uncomfortable, but worst of all it is dirty. The dust sits in the air, and in the ancient, stained pillows. The windows are so filthy that even if there was anything apart from Birch trees to look at (which there isn’t) you wouldn’t be able to. The seats are like church pews and the only way you can pad them is to add decrepit woolen blankets that look like the potential home for fleas. Everything you touch leaves your hands dusty or sticky and we sneeze constantly. This train has come from Beijing (probably from the Ming dynasty) and there are several compartments of Chinese migrant workers who chain smoke and chain noodle-eat.

Day 2

We have got more used to our filthy little prison. (Or are we just institutionalised?) The views past the dusty window are no longer just the Birch and Fir trees of Eastern Siberia, but are now sprinkled with the occasional factory that looks like Chernobyl after the accident. Outside one particularly crumbling factory we see steaming hot water being pumped into a stream. No wonder the attendant villagers of these factories would make it on to any ‘zombie extra’ cast list.

Just for a laugh we try the dining carriage. The decor is lime green plastic which should be warning enough. The carriage attendant looks like a fearsome dinner lady and gives us a menu in Russian. We try smiling and then sign language (but how does one sign ‘a little bit of decent food, please?’). She brings out an omelette with a thick blubbery layer  of grease and some rice that has been basted in grease and then given a generous dollop of grease on top. I try some, and the amount of fat that thickly coats the inside of my throat means I cannot feel my breath when I breathe in. We run, comedy style, from the carriage.

Day 3

We have crossed over to Europe during the night and have 1,000km to go before we reach Moscow. Many of our fellow passengers have left the train, only a few hardy souls doing the full four night, three day marathon. We are starting to feel a little the worse for wear for all the grubby, dusty dirt in our carriage, especially as it is getting hot and only two carriages down they have the air con on at full blast. We watch the season finale of Doctor Who ("No! How will he escape? Did Rory really shoot Amy? The Tardis! Exploded!?") And then we empty the last of our food bag and feast on pot noodles, Ritz crackers and warm beer. We set the alarm clock for 3am and try to sleep in the sticky heat for a couple of hours. The train pulls into the station at 4:11am, on time to the minute! We are here, and we have survived one of the world's longest train journeys...

Four Weeks In

At the four week point we are a thousand kilometres into our big 5,000km train journey. We have crossed half of one of the biggest countries on Earth. What do we think of the past week?

Harry: “There wasn’t much sushi in Russia which was very strange. The people are Russian but not rushing, only some of them were. Lake Baikal was freezing cold for my toes like they were going to fall to pieces, so I didn’t play in it. It was like we were in the movies ‘cos the butterflies in the trees didn’t look real. The blue ones were like 3D.”

Maisie: “The food at Galina’s house was nice and although I didn’t swim in Lake Baikal I wanted to. Russian people are really grumpy, a bit like Daddy. I like the ‘baina’ (sauna) and going hiking to see all the different flowers and butterflies.”

Marcelle: “Russia is big and this train journey is long! I enjoyed the ‘baina’ (sauna) at Galina’s house and want one in my house in the UK. I don’t like Russian bread. I really enjoyed the day hiking on Lake Baikal and sharing the day with Kevin and Lalita and it was lovely to catch up with Sally, who we'd last seen in Mongolia! Never say never, but I’ll never go back to Irkutsk again!”

Matt: “Unlike China this past week has had a ‘communist’ feeling. People in the hotel look at you suspiciously, border guards check your passport with utter distrust and you can easily imagine having a KGB tail! I loved hiking around the lake and it made me look forwards to hiking when we get back to the UK. Never order food in a Russian dining carriage...”

So, only one more week until we reach Blighty! Having said that, it’s still 2,200km from Moscow to Cologne, 180km from Cologne to Brussels and 330km from Brussels to Kings Cross!

Siberian Sushi

We spend thirty six hours in Irkutsk and stay at the Angara Hotel. The foyer gives it a cosmopolitan air, but on the seventh floor the carpet is frayed and smells of old vodka and mould. The floor attendant sits behind her desk and views us with Stalinist era suspicion, writing something down in a dusty ledger. I smile at her. She scowls. The people responsible for ordering the beds for the hotel were clearly looking in the wrong catalogue as we have boy scout, fold out camp bed style beds, that sink almost to the floor when you lie on them, and bring the sides of the thin mattress up so you are enveloped like a sausage roll. The shower head falls off and lands painfully on my toe.

We walk to the river Irkuts and watch a wedding retinue tie the traditional padlock to the bridge and throw the key symbolically into the river. Looking at this bride I think I’d invest in a good fishing rod and magnet...There are wedding parties and stretched limos everywhere; weddings are clearly big business in Irkutsk. All the retinue are drinking pink champagne, including a few of the heavily pregnant bridesmaids, cigs hanging out of their mouths. We walk to the nearby ‘White House’, a hotel which was grandly and hurriedly built when President Roosevelt was due to visit. He never did, which says it all really.

The rest of Russia is having a heatwave of record proportions. Whilst we are in Irkutsk the temperature goes down to 14C and it starts to rain. We look to find somewhere out of the Siberian winds and find the indoor market. All the fashions on offer at the clothes stalls would all be roundly rejected from an Oxfam shop. We go downstairs where there are lots and lots of power tools. Time to leave. We try and find somewhere for food, but all the shops have reflective film on their windows and doors with no pictures or signs, so it is difficult to see if they sell sports gear, jewelry or sausages. In the end we find one that is like a canteen and Harry spies the sushi. We are hundreds of miles from the sea but the boy has to have his sushi! We watch the umbrellas go past the window. Time to leave Irkutsk.

Stop! In the Name of the Fashion Police!

Irkutsk. Maybe it would be good to talk about it’s origins as a hangout for the ‘Decemberist’ dissidents, cast by the revolution into the wastes of Siberia. Or the fact it is soon to celebrate it’s 350th anniversary. Or the interesting juxtaposition of Karl Marx Street, with a statue of Lenin at one end and a newly restored statue of Tsar Nicholas II at the other. We could even mention that there has been a trial this week of cannibal Satanists (their ringleader was 22 and had just been kicked out of teacher training college). But let’s not; let’s be extremely shallow and talk about fashion.

Russian fashion is extremely interesting. I will freely admit that I know very little about fashion, and people in glass houses and all that. Irkutsk, cut off from the rest of the known universe, has distilled the quintessence of Russian and Eastern European trends. If you are a man, you must wear a powder blue polyester suit, or tight horizontally striped vest tightly tucked into stone washed jeans, topped and tailed with a mullet and pointy plastic shoes.

For women it’s a little more complicated. Hair can be peroxided or hennaed into the consistency of worn out brillo pads and left to explode outwards, the bigger the better. Make up must be electric blue or neon green for the eyes and scarlet for the lips. Dresses come in a variety of colours, but there is usually a nice helping of bronze, silver and gold mixed in. Hem lines are short, cleavages are de rigeur and frocks are accessorised nicely with diamante butterflies or bows the size of a child’s head. Shoes are always vertiginous heels in a range of metallic colours.

It is very shallow to judge anyone by what they wear, especially if you are a foreign observer, but the question that all these fashions raise is: did this fashion sense stop in the late 80’s, is it merely cyclical and this season is the 80’s revival, or have they only just now caught up to the 80’s?