Siberia has the virtue of not startling or astonishing you right away but of pulling you in slowly and reluctantly, as it were, with measured carefulness, and then binding you tightly once you are in. And then it’s all over – you are afflicted with Siberia*

– Valentin Rasputin

The sun rose unbelievably fast and beautifully as soviet era transsiberian train number 70 sped east into Irkutsk.I alighted at 6:30am. We had gone the equivalent distance of the entire widths of the Arabian Peninsula, then all of the stans and then half of Mongolia. More than 80 hours prior, Irina had put me on the train with much fussing and a care package full of crisps, sweets, pancakes, sweet bread and soft drinks. I’m very grateful to Irina for showing me Moscow and looking out for me, a Russian mother is a force of nature.

Backpack on, I cross the bridge on foot towards the town centre. There is a thick mist clinging to the river. From the opposite bank emerges a ferris wheel. A tram rumbles over the bridge. Everything shakes, I feel it in my chest. I didn’t know trams could be so heavy. The only other people around are other backpackers heading to or from the station.My first impression of Irkutsk is colonial frontier town left to decay. It does however have a certain cowboyish charm with a slavic twist. I pass a building flying a pair of USSR flags.

I look for a place to get a coffee and some wifi but nowhere is open. It seems Irkutsk doesn’t open until 9. With nothing to do I take pleasure in reading the russian letters; like a child learning to read by slowly reading out every single word I see letter by letter. There’s a sushi restaurant, there’s a pharmacy and on the wall an advert for the football. Once you can sound out russian words, many are surprisingly easy to guess.

I reflect on the train journey. My neighbours throughout: Shiné, a bubbly young Mongolian student, and her mother are heading home from Saint Petersburg where Shiné is studying architecture. Shiné was the only person who spoke a good amount of English I met onboard. Other neighbours who came and went included the Man-U fan Dima and his father who gifted me a signed football shirt from some russian club, an old lady who kept telling me not to drink alcohol with Dima (and in doing so taught me the russian sign language for alcohol), a young girl going from Omsk to Novosibirsk who had a passion for music and a gang of cheeky blond children. Not another backpacker in sight, they probably hid in first class. Posers!I love the comradery of travelling third class. Not only is all food and drink shared but a stranger will give a gentle shove to anyone sliding off their berth in their sleep and tuck them back in. Games are played, stories told, geography lessons had (Shiné somehow has an encyclopedic knowledge of Russian rivers). Everyone is welcome in the conversation.

The carriage has one long corridor with no dividing walls. On one side are alcoves of 4 berths stacked in twos sharing a table and a window and opposite side of the corridor is another pair of berths which are generally considered less desirable as you are always in the way of the corridor and the lower bunk transforms into their seating area. I was on the top bunk of the side berth. I am smiling recalling Irina’s look of horror when I told her. With Shiné on the bottom birth adjacent, she let me sit on her bunk each day.

The scenery out the window is lush. In old Rus there are vast birch forests followed by the rugged Urals. After Omsk you are in Siberia which is at first wide, flat and boggy with a bluish fog that never clears. Then comes the pine forests (is this the taiga?) well spaced villages of wooden cabins shelter on hillsides. Shiné and her mother both separately commented how much it reminds them of Mongolia. I would love to return and see this in the snow.

Here in Irkutsk I end up buying a subway because nowhere else was open. I had hoped there would be WiFi but no such luck. The experience ends up being pleasant-surprisingly russian with russian pickles, white cabbage and russian style mayonnaise on my БМТ. Irina had warned me that Russia works the opposite of the UK in that the further from the capital, the more expensive the food. The subway cost me 499₽, more than I spent on the entire train journey (although I admittedly lived off only Irina’s care package and instant noodles).

I’m in no rush to see Irkutsk. It’s not a large city and I have 5 days here before getting back on the transsiberian to Chita then on across the Chinese boarder. What I really want is to get some WiFi so I can find a laundromat and to checkin to the hotel so I can finally shower!

* apparently in the original Russian this is a pun on anthrax

I had booked the cheapest flight to Moscow that left as soon as possible. This meant flying overnight from Southend to Moscow Vnukovo via Chisinau, which I found out is the capital of Moldova and we used to call it Kishinev. Southend Airport turned out to be horrible and Chisinau really nice.

I landed in russia at 10am then learned that russia has the slowest passport control in the universe. Even so, by lunch time I had caught the really swanky double decker express train into the middle of Moscow and was ready to get to grips with Russia!

The train ride took about an hour and passed some small towns, some with beautiful medieval architecture and some made of slums that reminded me of Vietnam. Coming closer to Moscow I saw industry on a scale I’ve never seen before. Sprawling factories, never ending freight trains and convoys of massive lorries. It really excited the nerd in me who’s been playing far too much Transport Tycoon recently.

The first thing I wanted to see was Red Square and St Basil’s Cathedral, famous for its iconic onion domes. I found out there is also a park next to the red square called Zaryadye Park which is also surrounded by impressive buildings.

I was told that when going to Red Square, it’s essential to visit the ornate shopping centre GUM and buy icecream. This shopping centre was once the most impressive State Department Store, inspired by traditional russian architecture and London railway stations. Now its the place to buy icecream and the queue was massive.

I was also told to look for the bright green drink Tarhun which was available all around the square and GUM. It really is bright green and very delicious!

In the evening I met up with Irina, who is one of my friend in England’s mum, who had kindly agreed to show me around in exchange for crumpets.

She took me to have dinner at a retro soviet canteen called Stoloviya 57 after the World Festival of Youth in Moscow in’ 57. Irina says its exactly like the canteens she remembers except it has a better range of squash to drink. I had Okróshka soup, herring in a fur coat (shredded beetroot), liver stroganoff with buckwheat, followed by a starchy fruit drink for afters that was something between a drink and jelly. She said I was very adventurous and she’s never even tried the liver stroganoff!

After eating she took me on a tour of the Moscow metro underground stations. These stations are all decorated with marble and semi-precious stones and each is unique and has a story. One is where the government were based during the blitz and has murals of fighter planes another one was being built in 1943 and is decorated with mosaics made in Leningrad while it was under siege! I think these stations show how much respect there is here for public spaces and institutions, something we might have had once in the UK when we built glorious railway stations but that we have now lost and don’t look after.

A

My first impression of Moscow is that its a modern city that’s still thinking of future development whilst also being proud for their heritage.

So far, the impression I have got of their feelings towards soviet times is not negative. There seems to be great respect and administration for what was achieved and the adversity that was overcome. There is even some nostalgia even amongst the young people – who were queueing out the door to eat at Stoloviya 57. There are so many statues and paintings of Lenin that I got bored of photographing them but I’ve yet to see any of Stalin.

As I’m writing I’m sipping Kvass which is a naturally alcohol-free beer brewed from rye bread which is also a key ingredient in Okróshka soup