Badenov's are movin' on out

Today we said ‘dasvidanya’ to Russia. Immigration and border crossing into Belarus took about half an hour. US & UK passport holders grumbled at having had to cough up $162 USD per person in cash for a Belarus visa when all others entering only had to pay $63. The Belarusian government, obviously, does not like us. 

Border Check

Belarus is a transit country. The only reason we come to Vitebsk is that it is the most direct route crossing to Lithuania. Vitebsk, a throwback to the Soviet era, is all gray block Soviet-style architecture, a suspicious attitude toward foreigners and Soviet-like restrictions:  No! Do not! Prohibited! Halt! Forbidden! Not allowed! Warning!  And NOTHING is up to Western standards. 

 

Soviet truck

Vitebsk’s only claim to fame is the painter Marc Chagall. This afternoon we toured Marc Chagall’s childhood home with a dour matron guide and her sidekick English interpreter. It was like watching tennis (guide-interpreter-guide-interpreter…) The local parks and squares are filled with either bronze monuments of Marc Chagall or war memorials. 25% of the population of Belarus was killed in WWII.

Marc Chagall sculpture

 

"That's not smoke coming out of my ears." (Marc Chagall)

For dinner we went to a restaurant where we were greeted by a young girl see-sawing (eeeee-eeee-eeeee-eeeee) on her violin and by waiters with trays of vodka and champagne. 

Throughout dinner we were entertained by a Belarusian lounge singer with his computerized instrumental accompaniment. He sang Christopher Cross, Sting, the Eagles, George Michael in addition to his own compositions in his native language.

 "Welcome to the Hotel California..."

Of course, after all that vodka and champagne, he began to sound passable. Linda, Diane and other imbibers had their arms in the air swaying side-to-side to the music and holding up imaginary lighters (thumbs). Unfortunately, this entertainer now believes he is ready for Vegas. We hope we charge him at least $162 for a visa to the U.S.

Now a subject all it’s own…the hotel. Rated #1 in this city, population 350,000, it is something out of a Stephen King movie. We decided it may have been an insane asylum in its previous life and a psycho patient chose the décor. The unlit hallways were like those in “The Shining” (“Heeeeeeeere’s Johnny”) On each floor, double doors separated each wing like hospital wards (weird/slightly crazy/seriously insane/total bonkers). 

Guest rooms, accessed by a single metal key on a keychain, were decorated in at minimum 7 shades of green:  forest green striped wallpaper, olive green bedspreads, army green carpet, multi-green floral sheets, lime green print draperies, emerald green scrub-brush bath towels.

Unplugged lamp on nightstand with no electrical outlet. Nonworking (no outlet?) mini-refrigerator with door ajar.  A glass-doored cupboard complete with dishware and glassware but no coffeemaker in the room. Two kid-low twin beds. Sheets as hard as canvas tarps. Dingy down pillows (smelled according to one guest) and no doubt crawling with dust mites and their droppings. Linda and Jerry wrapped their pillows in plastic bags and covered them with towels. Linda slept in full pjs, a hoodie, and socks. A security call button above one bed. One guest’s window fell off when opened. Plastic accordion dryer exhaust venting used on the toilet. Light switches operated the wrong lights. A plastic 50’s television set. Freaky.

“It’s only for one night, it’s only for one night, it’s only for one night…..”

Shrunken bed

"I've fallen and I can't get up...!"

On checkout the next morning, one guest was questioned on a missing towel. “Uh, you mean this lovely green scrubber pad?” Are you freaking serious? Unbelievable!

We wondered, did this Bates Motel have anything to do with the fallout from the Chernobyl nuclear disaster in 1986?  70% of the contamination from that accident landed in Belarus. Are we in the Twilight Zone?

 We're scared

? ? ?

This note left in our bathroom either says "This toilet was cleaned by Oxlana" or it's a 'phone home' message from outer space.  

Zagorsk

Again raining, we drove into the country to Zagorsk, a renowned center of Russian art and architecture. For centuries, it served as the religious capital of Russia and a place of pilgrimage for the Russian Orthodox faithful. Within the old walled city, we saw the Troitse Sergiyevo Lavra, a working monastery where the orthodox faith was kept alive during the years of atheism.

At the village marketplace, we bought some locally handcrafted wooden Matryoshka nesting dolls for the granddaughters.

As usual, on the drive back to Moscow, traffic was a nightmare. We try to keep in mind that during the years of oppression, the people were not allowed to own personal automobiles. And with the end of the Soviet regime, car ownership has exploded. 8-9 lane roads (not freeways, mind you) in each direction through town with stop lights and cross street traffic do not provide enough capacity for the massive volume of cars. Unbelievable gridlock insanity!

Later we visited the Borodino Panorama Museum commemorating a 15 hour battle fought between Napoleon’s French troops and Russian soldiers which took place in August 1812 outside Moscow. The museum features an extraordinary 380-foot long circular painting by the Russian artist Franz Roubaud, depicting a particularly dramatic and crucial moment in the battle.

Then on to the Great Patriotic War (World War II) Memorial Museum. It was very interesting to see how another country views the history of WWII.

Ended the day at the pedestrian Arbat Street for dinner and shopping.

Diane and Linda did not eat at McDonaldov's

Ron spilled his 1st beer down the stairs

Moscow

Woke to more rain and a full schedule for the day. With Edward, our local guide, we rode more high speed transportation, the fast-moving escalator down and down and down deep into the metro where we got off and on at different stations to view the lovely art and architecture, Stalin called ‘Palaces of the People.’ We emerged from the depths at the station nearest the Kremlin.

 Down, down, down into the metro

Metro Art

Metro Architecture

Metro Bronze Sculpture

A special event for school children was going on, so to get into the Kremlin everyone had to pass through security metal detectors, bag searches, and no liquids or bottled water permitted. 

Kremlin

K

Red Square

Once inside the Kremlin walls, we saw St. Basil’s Cathedral along with eight other churches and Lenin’s Tomb in Red Square. No one but morbidly-fascinated tourists care much about the latter.

Lenin's Tomb

In the afternoon, we visited the Kremlin Museum, a treasure chest of the Imperial family, to see their crown jewels, diamond-studded thrones, royal coronation gowns, costumes, a fabulous collection of Faberge eggs, gilded horse-drawn carriages including a child-size carriage built for the young prince, said to have been equipped at the time with miniature horses and dwarves dressed in livery. Jerry especially loved the armament rooms with munitions, suits of armor, chain maille, bejeweled swords, clubs and spears (probably never saw a battle). No cameras allowed inside but we have to tell you this collection was more impressive than comparable displays we’ve seen at the Smithsonian or of the crown jewels at the Tower of London.

Later we went out again around 9:30pm to view Moscow by night. 

Novodevichy convent where tsars dumped unwanted wives

St. Basil's Cathedral

Jerry and Linda

Got back to the hotel long past midnight.

Speeding to Moscow

This rainy morning we checked out of our hotel and drove into the country to the village of Petrodvorets and Peter the Great’s Summer Palace. Inspired by Versailles, this gilt-trimmed palace and huge park contain garden terraces, water-spouting statues, and 173 glitzy gold fountains. And more than 1000 times that many hungry mosquitoes in residence. A wide canal connects the palace to the Baltic Sea and the Gulf of Finland.

Returning to the city was a snail crawl due to road construction. Therefore, we went straight to the train station with just enough time to board our train for a 3:15pm departure to Moscow.

Our train, the Aurora, has just been in operation for six months. It is a high-speed bullet train with speeds of up to 155 mph.

Nice comfortable seats/clean bathrooms. Fields of yellow flowering plants whizzed by in a blur. We are wondering if those aren’t the same plants we have at home growing on our lower hill and have been yanking out as weeds all this time. What the hell. They are kind of pretty and it’d be one less gardening chore.

A little over 4 hours later we arrived in Moscow, the complete total opposite of St. Petersburg in every way. New, modern with high rises, neon, giant billboards, and a bottle neck of 8-lane streets packed wall-to-wall with cars. 

Our high-rise Renaissance hotel has only been open for about a month. Everything is brand spanking new (including the staff). Ah, but the sweet lush bedding, soft fluffy towels and free Wifi are so worth the occasion newbie glitch.

St. Petersburg

Today we toured St. Petersburg, often called the Venice of the North. Saw the beautiful ‘Church of Spilled Blood.’

Then toured the magnificent Hermitage, museum and former home of the Tsars. Think a Louvre housed in a Versaille.

 
Next we visited a beautifully restored baroque palace, the former residence of the obscenely wealthy Yusupov family. Also the scene of Rasputin’s grisly murder.

Rasputin was a sleazy Siberian peasant who weaseled his way into royal circles. Jealous of Rasputin’s influence, Yusupov and his cronies tried to poison him, when that didn’t work they beat him, shot him and chucked him into the river where he finally died of drowning.

After dinner, we attended a folklore concert of musicians, singers and dancers. The Military Leningrad Orchestra, a men's chorus in uniform, and a troupe of dancers in colorful traditional costumes.

Picture Lawrence Welk meets Riverdance. The theater seats were hard and uncomfortable. Boriiiiiiiiing. The only saving grace was the intermission with complimentary champagne.

Into Russia

Today we ventured into Russia. Exited Finland customs and immigration like a breeze. Proceeded through an ominous stretch of woods between Finland’s border station and Russia’s called  ‘No Man’s Land.’ Warning  - no cameras or photos of officials. Each of us checked and stamped through. Inspectors did a thorough search. At the final checkpoint, a hefty, unsmiling pitbull of questionable gender barked out orders and signaled commands. The whole process took over two hours and we were finally released to continue on our way.

First off, we knew we’d entered Russia by the road conditions. Worse than California. Huge potholes, rough bumpy surfaces, dips and tilts. Most notably going onto and off of bridges like some Russian engineer miscalculated the level of the road with that of the bridge. Signage is now totally unreadable to us. The letters look like gibberish from a printer malfunction. Two-way roads with trucks, buses and cars playing ‘chicken’ in passing. Glad we backseat drivers are not sitting in the front. Peasants selling bundles of twigs for saunas along the way. Colorful makeshift cemeteries half-hidden in the woods adjacent to the road were decorated in vivid colors probably belonging to a band of gypsies.

Secondly, we went from pure Finnish drinking water to the nonpotable stuff you can’t even brush your teeth with. No uncooked fruits, vegetables, juices or ice. Here we go……

St. Petersburg, on the other hand, is a jewel, one of the most beautiful cities in the world. Lovely old architecture, in a Venice-like setting with a river, bridged canals and cobbled streets.

Visited the Peter and Paul Fortress, St. Petersburg’s first settlement.

Entertained with chants and songs by a small men’s quartet.

After dinner, we had our private cruise of the Neva River through the center of Peter the Great’s capital.

Linda and Diane

Vodka, champagne, a basket of fruit and caviar canapés. Costumed singers and musicians entertained while we sailed past the sights of this classical city. After many shots of wodka, Linda was playing one of their wooden clackers, Ron was dancing with the lead singer, Diane was singing along in ‘Russian’ and Jerry was documenting the humiliating evidence for the record.

Ron on the dance floor

Empties