TRAVELOGUE - THE TRAIN TO
MOSCOW
By-Wale Okediran
I was a
long way from home and after a few days watching soccer and sightseeing in Saint
Petersburg, I would be heading north by train to the Russian capital city of
Moscow. The following days up in Moscow would be busy days filled with travelling
mostly by the Metro, watching more soccer, sight- seeing museums and monuments,
writing and trying out the Russian cuisine but being a teetotaller, I will
avoid the famous Vodka.
In
Moscow, I would be stopped by the Russian police for a brief interrogation, stung
and choked by gas fumes in the Moscow Metro, beaten by a sudden rain shower
when I wasn’t with my umbrella and stared at by some ‘skin head’ Russian youths
who were not used to seeing strangers in their land. On the sunny side of
things, I would enjoy the company of many football fans who had come for the
World Cup, get help from friendly elderly Russian women when communication in
English became a challenge, eat delicious meals in roadside restaurants, sip
lemon tea in the mornings in my hired apartment and hang out with my two
travelling buddies, Tayo and Dion. In short, I would have a wonderful time in Moscow.
But I had to get there first… And so, at exactly 6.30
on a sunny June morning, the Sapsan, a
Russian Gauge high speed electric
express train slid majestically into Track 7 of the Saint Petersburg’s
Moskovskiy Railway Station. With its
red, blue and white bullet shaped head, the 10 coaches, 250 metre long Train
with a capacity for 604 passengers and a maximum speed of 250 km/hr was a
beauty to behold. Sapsan train which derived
its name from the fastest bird in the falcon family, was designed by Siemens AG
and is perfectly adapted to the harsh Russian climate. As I waited on the
platform of Track 7 for the train’s arrival, I could not but be captivated by
the beautiful work of technology which was a far cry to the steam engine trains
of the sixties when my childhood
fascination with trains began.
At that
time, the Lagos-Kano railway line passed just across the road to my primary
school in Bodija, Ibadan, Oyo State, Nigeria. Each time I caught the far-off
sound of the Kano bound train, I will eagerly rush to the window of the class
room whenever there were no classes and gawk at the whistling mechanical
centipede and its sleepy passengers with a wish that I will be in their midst
one day. When years later my wish came true and I had a ride on the train which
by then was being pulled by a diesel engine, my journey to the 1996 writers’
convention in Kaduna was delayed by two days when the train broke down in Offa,
Kwara State. Despite the breakdown, I had a very interesting and memorable
train journey which inspired my first children’s novel; The Rescue Of Uncle Babs (Mcmillan 1998). The book went on to win
the 1999 ANA/MATATU Prize for Children’s Literature.
Since
then, I have seldom heard a train go by and not wished I was on it to the
extent that I have undertaken several local and international train journeys
since my Ibadan to Kaduna train journey experience. And so when I found myself
in Russia at the 2018 Football World Cup, I did all I could to have a taste of
the famous Russian Railway already made famous by a league of renowned writers
ranging from James Joyce, T S Elliot, Dostoevsky, Tolstoy to Paul Theroux to
name just a few.
Twenty minutes after docking into
Track 7, the St Petersburg to Moscow Train took off on the 635km trip to
Moscow. Travelling with me were my two US based friends, Tayo and Dion. As we
clambered on board the very clean and comfortable train, our International
Passports and tickets were checked. It was a lovely train with the seats in the
Business Class coach, huge with ample space. There were also facilities to
charge our phones and electrical gadgets. The food was also good with nice
service.
Anyone who knows Russia will know that train
journeys across its vast expanses are a quintessential part of experiencing the
country and the character of its inhabitants. Most of the passengers on the
Spasan were made up of both the old and young who appeared to be students,
tourists and businessmen. Hardly had we settled into our seats than two
stewardesses in neat and crisp grey coloured uniforms, Victoria and Vera (from
their name tags) handed round the day’s newspapers. Unfortunately, the papers
were all in the Russian language. All the same, I got hold of one and tried to
use the photographs in the papers to decipher what the news were all about. After
the newspapers, came a breakfast of Omelette, Bread, Salad, Orange Juice and
Coffee which went very well in the quiet and comfortable coach.
As the train picked up speed, the electronic displaying
board in the coach showed speeds rising from 120km/hr on to 180, 220 before
settling down at 250 km/hr while the outside temperature was 27oc and the
inside, 23oc. And unlike the Locomotive and Diesel powered trains of my
childhood, it was not possible to have a good view through the window as the
train cut through the Russian countryside at a dizzying speed. All the same, it
was still possible to see fast motion glimpses of the Saint Petersburg’s
metropolis of skyscrapers and steel bridges as they raced past the train’s
window. We were soon in the Saint Petersburg’s suburbs of brick terraces and
narrow back gardens, then past a row of semi-detached houses before being shot
wonderfully into a new setting of sleepy villages and green farmlands interspersed
with small houses against an expansive background of corn fields.
Inside the train, all
was peaceful as the wonderful piece of engineering marvel became its own little tubular
world; a world where rivers and lakes shining in the early morning sunlight
slid past the window and the picture square pine forests became a wallpaper on
the landscape of our journey. Gradually,
the countryside became more rolling and then, suddenly, as
the train made a curve, it changed completely: The forest, which for hours had
formed a fence on either side of the train, opened up onto broad, beautiful
plains, with walls of trees and the sky seemed to pull upward, flooding the
scene with light.
In addition, very much
unlike my favourite Nigerian trains where you could chat and laugh as much as
you like, everything was boringly quiet, with many of the passengers engrossed
with newspapers, books, mobile gadgets and sleep. No pickpocket was arrested
for working on passengers wallets, no stowaway was caught and thrown off the
train and no chance to buy delicious food and snacks from hawkers on the
station platforms. All we did was to sleep and read and stare through the
window of the fast moving train. I was left to gaze into the fast changing
slices of the Russian countryside while the gentle rocking motion of the train
acted as my lullaby and before long, I soon joined some of the passengers in
the sleeping business.
When I woke up moments later,
I went for a walk down the train to stretch my legs. After two coaches, I
stumbled on the canteen where a group of football fans in colourful Colombian
jersey were making merry with food, beer and coffee. They were happy to see me
in my very popular and beautiful green and white Nigerian jersey and invited me
over for a cup of coffee. As we chatted heartily about football and the games,
I took in more scenes of the Russian countryside as glimpses of beautiful
lakes, rivers, parks and trees flew past the window.
We soon came to the town of Golgoya, where the
train stopped for just a minute to discharge some passengers. Moments after we
took off again, I was roused from another slumber by a lady Ticket Inspector,
Tatiana who glanced at my outstretch ticket, smiled and disappeared into the next
coach. The train was now going at 200km/hr, probably ascending a hill and
before long, we passed Bologoe. Outside Mockba, we passed forests of tall pine
and cypress trees as we continued our journey into the vast Russian land, the
largest country in the world by land size. Beside me in seat 23 was the
sleeping figure of Tayo while my third companion, Dion in seat 21 was busy with
his I Pad.
To keep
myself busy, I stared out of the window
for the umpteenth time as the train now passed several villages scattered
across the Russian plain some dotted with tiny, self-sufficient hamlets with
occasional sprinklings of the ubiquitous ‘dachas’ that Dostoevsky and Tolstoy
idealised, Lenin despaired of, and Stalin tried to plan out of existence. A
‘Dacha’ is a seasonal or year-round second home, often located in the
suburbs of Moscow and other post-Soviet city although some dachas recently have
been converted to year-round residences and vice versa.
I was soon brought
out of my reverie at 10.40am by the announcement of the train’s arrival in
Moscow. Passengers were advised to keep their luggage safe and parents to hold
their children well. High rise
buildings, modern bridges and crowds of people now came into view as the train
crawled into the Leningradsky Station and nosed towards track 7.
Moscow is a major political, economic,
cultural, and scientific centre of Russia and Eastern Europe, as well as the largest city(both by population and
by area) entirely on the European continent. The city is served by a transit network,
which includes four international airports, nine railway
terminals, numerous trams, a monorail system and one of the deepest underground
rapid transit systems in the world, the Moscow Metro, the fourth-largest in the world and largest
outside Asia in terms of passenger numbers, and the
busiest in Europe. It is recognised as one of the city's landmarks due to the
rich architecture of its 215 stations..
Ironically, it was in
the Moscow Metro that I had my most frightening experience during my brief stay
in the Russian capital city. On the second day of our arrival in Moscow, Tayo,
Dion and I travelled in the Metro. As we went up the escalator to exit the
metro, a wave of gas fumes suddenly stung my eyes and breathing became
difficult. A choking sensation erupted from within me and before I knew it, I
was seized by a coughing fit. All around me, commuters were coughing and
holding handkerchiefs to their eyes to reduce the stinging sensation in their
eyes. For a fleeting moment, panic rented the air and people were calling out
to the Railway officials to do something to mitigate the situation. My own
panic was heightened when my mind went to the infamous Japanese underground gas
episode that claimed several lives many years ago. Just then, all the escalators were redirected
to start taking people out of the underground and before long, most of the
commuters were safely out on the streets. However, despite the fresh air, the
coughing and throat discomfort went on for a while before normalcy set in. Tayo
was not that lucky as his own coughing and sneezing episode went on for a few
more days.
On one sunny and hot day, we joined other
sweating tourists to visit such historic sites as the
majestic Red Square with the Kremlin as well as the colourful St. Basil's
Cathedral and the Armoury Chamber which is the most ancient museum depository
in Russia. Being the seat of power of
the Government of Russia, Moscow is the site of the Moscow Kremlin, a medieval city-fortress that is today the
residence for work of the President of Russia. The Moscow Kremlin
and Red Square are also one of several World Heritage Sites in the city. Both
chambers of the Russian parliament (the State Duma and the Federation Council) also sit in the city. It
was at the Red Square that a Bangladesh Television Station interviewed me on
the Nigerian Argentina match which was slated for the following day.
Also in the Kremlin were museums. It was
obvious that the former Soviet Union had in the 17th and 18th
centuries invested a lot in religion especially Christianity with the erection
of several Cathedrals, Churches and Temples. However, such monuments have now
been turned into tourist centres after Karl Marx abolished religion which he
termed ‘the Opium of the people’. Among the other museums of the Moscow Kremlin
visited were; The Assumption Cathedral where all Russian Tsars were crowned and
buried, The Annuciation Cathedral which was the home church of Moscow great
Princes, The Archangel’s Cathedral constructed in 1505-1508 as well as The
Church of Laying Our Lady’s Holy Robe which was the home church of Russian
Metropolitans among other cathedrals.
On
leaving the Kremlin, we took the Red Line train in the Metro to the famous
Gorky Park, a vast and expansive structure with many facilities such as
amusement areas, a large Musical open air auditorium, Library, Theatre and several
reception rooms. The facility was named after Alexei Maximovich Peshkov
primarily known as Maxim (Maksim) Gorky. He was a Russian and Soviet writer, a founder of the socialist realism literary
method and a political activist. He was also a five-time nominee for
the Nobel Prize in Literature. The name ‘Gorky Park’ has
always thrilled me. With its hard packed analogies, gruesome tales/story lines,
it has always been a source of inspiration for books, poems, songs, intrigues,
murders and love. From the Gorky
Park, we crossed the Krymsky Bridge and for 900 Roubles each (R70 = $1) went
for a half and hour cruise on the massive Moscow River.
After a lunch of Roasted Chicken and Baby
Potatoes with Salad, we went back to our apartment which was managed by a 23
year old House keeper, Aza, a native of the Caucasus region in Russia. The Caucasus or Caucasia is a region located at the border of Eastern
Europe and Western
Asia, situated between the Black
Sea and the Caspian
Sea and occupied by Russia, Georgia, Azerbaijan, and Armenia. Aza who is a Muslim student of the North Caucasus
State Humanitaria-Technological Academy was working in the apartment to make
some extra money. According to Aza, whom I communicated with mostly through a
Sony Xperia Z1 translation device because of her limited use of English,
informed me that her people differ from the Russians in terms of Language,
Tradition and Culture. Apart from respect for their elders, as Muslims, females
from the Caucasus are not allowed to touch people of the opposite sex except
their fathers and brothers.
After a few days in Moscow, I returned to
Saint Petersburg by the same Spasan train to arrive the Moskovskiy Train
station after a 5 hour uneventful trip. As we alighted from the train, I
noticed a very wide gap between the train and the platform which I considered
very dangerous particularly for older people who may be disembarking from the
train with a heavy bag. And even though Muscovites will
not agree, I found St Petersburg with its canals and cathedrals, palaces and
terraces to be unmatched in its splendour among other Russian Cities. Apart
from its incredibly beautiful Catherine's Palace and Peterhof, world-famous
Hermitage, Peter and Paul Fortress, Savior on Blood and St. Isaac Cathedral,
the city also has other outstanding sights.
For 500 Roubles ($7) I went on a tour of the City aboard a Double
Decker Bus with Tayo and Dion. The tour enabled me to see some beautiful sights
such as The National Pushkin Museum, the St Petersburg State Capella and the
Palace Square where I purchased the famous Russian wooden Dolls (The Matryoshka
Dolls) for 900 Roubles each as souvenirs. Also visited was The Hermitage Museum
which is so big
that a week will not be enough to see all of its treasures. The museum is said
to be one of the biggest in the world with well over one million exhibits. It was
at the Hermitage Museum that Tayo stumbled on the historic painting; 'Roman Charity' by Peter Paul Rubens (c 1612)
The painting showed a Roman woman, Pero secretly breastfeeding her father,
Cimon who had been incarcerated and sentenced to death by starvation by the
Roman authorities. The story behind the painting which is said to be real was
originally recorded in 'Nine Books Of Memorable Acts and Sayings Of The Ancient
Romans'.
Apart from the Hermitage, St.
Petersburg has many other local architectural splendours to visit. In order to
fully enjoy the city, we each paid 550 Roubles for a Boat Ride through the
city’s elegant canals. In making our
choice of the various available tour boats, we decided to patronise a native of
Ivory Coast who made his living by selling tour tickets. The approximately 2
hour Tour took us to The National Pushkin Museum, St Petersburg’s State
Capella, the Palace Square as well as the Winter and Summer Palaces designed
for Emperor Peter the Great. It is believed that Alexander Pushkin, one of
Russia’s great writers was killed behind the Summer Palace. Also visited was the Cathedral where
Dostoevsky the great Russian writer got married.
I had come to the end of my
Russian trip and despite the rigours of the journey I wish I could see more of
the vast and mysterious country. For
years, I have wanted to see Russia with my own eyes, to meet some of the people
who live inside of that entity, to hear their voices and perceive the aroma and
the nuances of their land. Thankfully, my short but very busy trip has given
some answers. More importantly, I had a taste of the legendary Russian Railways
already made famous by a legion of writers, my predecessors in the travelling
and writing business. And if there was
another Sapsan Train that could take me back to Nigeria, I would not have
hesitated to board it. That is the beauty of a train, this heedless and
solitary movement that gets you hooked to the great tubular vehicle.
