RTW 9. All aboard the Golden Eagle Trans Siberian Express

Tuesday, 11 May 2010

Moscow, Russia

Finally, after a number of times trying to enter the Kremlin, I make it. Not Putin’s office obviously. The armoury museum. ‘Kremlin’ means a fortress within a city. Sitting on the bank of the Moskva River it’s a large complex of buildings such as palace, church, museum, armoury, offices, accommodation and of course the Presidential building and senate, all surrounded by a high and thick wall with large fortified gates to prevent intruders. Pretty impressive complex.

Security scanners at the museum entrance are a waste of time as they go off as I wander through but don’t get checked. Got a wonderful Faberge egg if anyone wants one.

Highlight of the museum is the collection of rare Faberge Eggs. Simply stunning. Produced by the House of Faberge, a jewellery firm dating back to the 1840s from St Petersburg, Russia. Made famous by the jewel encrusted eggs they produced for the Tsars way back when.

One is themed around the Trans Siberian Railway and has a small gold train set in it. Stunning and intricate and having seen a few up close now understand why people rave about them.

Once outside the Kremlin and standing in Red Square you realise how diminutive 16^th century St Basil’s Cathedral is. Its bold colours adorn its bulbous domes looking like someone has produced an assortment of fruit ripple soft ice cream in a cone. The darkened inside is lightened by the sound of an a capella male voice quartet. Acoustics are brilliant and atmospheric.

Lunch is on the outskirts of the city. Sharing a table with the train’s doctor, her husband and another traveller. All early 60s. We’ll call the doctor’s husband Tom. The other fella, Jerry. Tom is right wing. Jerry is left wing. We’ve only just introduced ourselves when Tom & Jerry get into a discussion on politics. Deary me. A massive argument soon erupts. Jerry takes great exception to be called a ‘Leftie’. As with most lefties, they don’t like people who have different views to their own. Brilliant fun watching two grown men argue like children. It reaches the point where Tom’s despairing wife shouts at him loudly to shut up. They spend the rest of lunch in silence like scolded children.

Arrive late afternoon at Kazan Station. For the start of the Trans Siberian Railway.

Find the platform to board the Golden Eagle Trans Siberian Express (https://www.goldeneagleluxurytrains.com/journeys/trans-siberian-express/eastbound/) home for the next couple of weeks. Most had thought it would be a dedicated engine pulling us all the way. But no. We’re hitched to the back of the standard ‘local’ Trans Siberian train set.

Greeted at our carriage by white gloved provodnitsas in a smart uniform. Am in Silver Class. Ensuite you see. There’s Heritage Class. Toilet at the end of the carriage. No thanks. Also Gold Class but advised that wasn’t value for money.

Enter my cabin. This is more like it. Sofa which converts to a wide bed. Table. Jump seat. TV. AC. Ensuite toilet, shower and basin. Wouldn’t want to swing a cat though. Best of all. A bottle of vodka on the table. We’ll see how long that lasts.

In need of a shower before dinner. Am fully soaped up. When. There’s a power cut on the train. Sod it. The water stops flowing. The lights switch off. Now what. Stand there in the dark. Lathered in soap. Some minutes pass before power returns. Hastily finish just in case it happens again.

Moving through the carriages to the bar car is not the easiest. Like an assault course. Heavy doors have to be opened and shut when crossing between carriages. Then you have to step up to a plate over the coupling which has a three inch gap to the plate of the next carriage. Then step down. Open and close heavy doors. Repeat five times until you arrive at the bar car. Small bar at one end. Lounge seating line the sides. And. A piano. Yes, dear reader. A pianist plays piano each night after dinner. Restaurant car has tables of four. Silver service. Wine flows. Food superb.

Ah yes, this will do very nicely for the next couple of weeks.

All very civilised, dear reader.

Very me.