Own only what you can carry with you; know languages, know countries, know people. Let your memory be your travel bag

  - Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn –

 
I always seem to have a torrid night when I am away from home and know I have to get up at the crack of dawn for onward travel. I find I am constantly checking my alarm clock. Last night was no exception. It feels like I have been awake half the night. I'm sure I managed to doze off at some stage but it wouldn't be long before I’d check my watch again then check the alarm. Only 2:20am. It feels like I have been in bed for ages.

At 5am, my alarm sounded. I sat on the side of the bed. Still blurry eyed and trying to suppress a yawn, I said to Roisin, 'I wonder what time it is back home’

'Probably the same time it is here’, came the reply. ‘We haven’t left the UK yet!!!’

Obviously my body was functioning but my brain hadn’t caught up yet! We had spent the night…hang on a minute! Why did Roisin say ‘probably’?? Anyway, we had spent the night in a Travel Lodge at Heathrow Airport terminal 5. The flight down had been pretty uneventful. The hotel is about 2 miles from the terminal building just off the airport perimeter road.

There are a number of Hoppa buses immediately outside the terminal (5) building at Heathrow waiting to whisk you to the hotel of your choice. H57 was designated to taken us to the Travel Lodge. The bus was already on the stand but was not scheduled to depart for another ½ hour. We were first in the queue.

"We must have just missed one," Roisin observed checking the timetable. As more people joined the queue it was evident that this bus was going to be busy. 2 minutes before the bus was scheduled to leave, a man in a grey jacket and yellow florescent bib came marching up to the bus and brushed passed us practically pushing us aside.

" Eh, excuse me. There’s a queue here if you hadn’t noticed, don’t you know?" I said matter-of-factly.

“Eh excuse you but I’m the driver!!” Came the reply.

My engaging the bus driver in conversation, if nothing else, had at least entertained the rest of the people in line!

Our flight, a British Airways Boeing 747 departed at 08:40 and the flight time was 3hours 20 minutes. We were sat in Premium Economy along with 6 other passengers leaving the other 23 seats in the cabin vacant. I wish all flights were as spacious as this!

3 hours 20 gave me more than enough time to watch an in-flight movie. I chose ‘Beyond the Candelabra’, a biopic about the showman Liberace starting Michael Douglas in an award winning performance as the flamboyant pianist. The film certainly was an eye opener. Call me naive but did you know Liberace was gay??! No, neither did I. I just thought he was very eccentric with tons of cash!!

As we were taxiing to the stand the airport at Moscow was covered in snow yet I could see at least 3 other planes also taxiing on the tarmac. A fully functional airport despite this adverse weather? SEE BRITAIN! IT CAN BE DONE!!

The other planes were not necessarily a good thing as we found out on our approach to the immigration kiosks. As we walked along the main corridor that ended at the immigration, other passengers kept appearing from side entrances, obviously coming off other flights. This ended up as a bottleneck of about 600 passengers waiting to pass through passport control. We were in the middle of it all.

Suddenly from behind a lady shouted something in Russian. Fellow travellers behind us and some in front turned and followed the voice. We didn’t stand a chance. In a swarm of bodies Roisin and I were whisked along as if caught in an undercurrent. We were helpless to do anything. We could have been heading for the trans-Siberian express for all we knew. No use fighting; this flow was not going to be stemmed. As it turns out, the officials had opened the booths reserved for Diplomats. 20 minutes later we had collected our baggage and were heading toward the Airport express train.

This took us through the arrivals terminal where there were many signs and placards. I took this early opportunity to practice my pronunciation of Russian as I had been learning the Cyrillic alphabet

“ Now this one is easy”, I boasted to Roisin. “A triangle is “D” an “O” is the same as English, an “X” is pronounced like a “H” but not sure what a square is.”.

It was too much for Roisin as she burst out laughing.

“Divvy”, she cried. “You’ve only tried to read the Play Station     logo!!”.

We reached the ticket machine for the airport express train with my pride still hurting. The instructions were multi-lingual including, thank God, English. However, we seemed to have chosen a temperamental machine, as it didn’t want to take my money. It kept spitting it back out. I spent a good 10 minutes grappling with this; probably a Soviet piece of junk. Roisin could see how agitated I had become. She suddenly held up two tickets in front of me.

“Where did you get these?” I asked.

“From the ticket booth over there” she replied pointing to a small counter no more than 5 yards away.

We left the relative safety of the airport terminal straight on to the train platform. The change in temperature almost took our breath away. It was reading minus 12 on the platform display unit. The cold actually was stinging my face. Within minutes it felt like my whiskers had become brittle.

“We need to get the train to Paveletskaya so look for a station that starts with a character that looks like a square but with the bottom cut off.”

Roisin went over to the departure board and came back moments later. “There is about 5 stations that start with a character that looks like a square but with the bottom cut off!”

We carefully checked the spelling against my guidebook and identified the correct platform from which the train departed.

Domedodovo airport is 26 miles from Moscow and takes 45 minutes by train. I thought it would get dark about the same time as the UK for this time of year (about 4:30) but at 5:30 these was still light in the sky. Darkness fell just after 6pm.

We had entered the streets of Moscow during rush hour. On exiting Paveletskaya station the roads were disorienting in the snow…and the dark….and the gauntlet of commuters that were criss-crossing our path what seemed like every step of the way.

We darted for cover inside a Starbucks and luckily found a very helpful employee who spoke good English and pointed us in the right direction.

As we were gathering our things to leave, a young man, maybe in his early thirties approached us.

“What name you have?” he asked in very accented but plausible English.

“Why do you want to know?” I asked.

“Cto?” he replied. Then he asked again, ‘what name you have? My name Vasily”

“Why…..you…..ask? I said more slowly and a little louder. Why is it that British people think that if they speak to foreigners in a loud manner, it will make them understand better? We just can’t help ourselves!!!

“She”, he started “Doctor. You. Teacher.”

I looked at Roisin and pointed at her while addressing our new acquaintance Vasily, “Yes, she very good brain surgeon. Ask her nicely and she’ll cut you a new one!!!’

Vasily was still smiling as we left Starbucks. We didn’t look back.

10 minutes later we were standing in the Reception of the Ibis hotel.

Despite traipsing through the slush strew pavements and small flurries of dirt-ridden snow in the gutters en route to our hotel, the first thing I did when we entered our room was grab my case with both hands and with a flick of my knee swung it on to the bed in one continuous movement. I’m sure we’ve all done that. However, there were still bits of the aforesaid slush on my case that I had now transferred to the (what used to be) white quilt cover!!

By the time we unpacked it was almost 8pm. Time for a wander and something to eat. We studied the map before we left and decided to head out in the direction of Gorky Park, a 300-acre green belt that runs along side the Moskva River. During the post-Soviet era Gorky Park used to host an amusement park with fun fairs, various amusement rides, a Ferris wheel and one of the mock-ups (test units) from the Buran space shuttle program. Over the years the rides became decrepit, and the park territory was swamped with cheap attractions and cafes. In 2011 Gorky Park underwent a major reconstruction. All amusement rides have been removed in order to transform the place into an eco-friendly recreational zone. All that is left is the space shuttle, a stark reminder of the Soviet era space race.

During the 20-minute walk, we had to navigate some major road. These are 4 or 5 lane highways with a constant stream of traffic ranging from German built BMWs and Mercedes to our old friend the Lada and Trabant. It is suicide to try and cross these roads hence why at every major intersection and junction there are networks of underpasses. At first we were both reluctant to using use a thoroughfare that can be associated with thugs and muggers and can also be a magnet for drunks and other undesirables you would rather want to avoid in a country where even the kindest works in Russian sound like their angry or aggressive!! After our first venture down through the myriad of subterranean walkways we didn’t feel at all threatened and soon realised this is the norm and easily the most safety way to navigate these sometime (especially in this weather) treacherous intersections.

We recognised the entrance to the park by it’s grandiose neo-classical columns and were soon heading past the ice rink toward somewhere warmer in search of food. 
 
After being suitably refreshed we slowly made the half hour trek back to the Ibis passing a novel wedding car. The vehicle had also been provided with a his and hers top hat. I've heard of dressing a car but I didn't expect some fold to take it literally!!

It had been a long day. We arrived back at the hotel at 22:45. Despite the cold and only wearing trainers/walking shoes and normal socks my feet weren't cold. Although it was difficult tell as I had lost all feeling below the knee!!!