So how was Russia?

Big.

Yeah, but you’ve seen only a small part of it.

Well yes—no actually, it was only the Western part but we travelled all the way from the North to the South. From the White Sea to the Black Sea even!

Very Game of Thrones. How was it?

Western.

What do you mean?

Proper. Civilised. Affluent.

And everyone spoke English?

No one spoke English.

Really?

Yeah. Ok, two people did. There was this young guy on a train who tried to convince T. to join a street protest in Moscow and one waiter in St Petersburg who tried to explain the origins of vodka to us.

Join a street protest? Did he?

Not interested in the origins of vodka? OK, no, he didn’t join the demonstrations – we had tickets for Swan Lake for that afternoon.

Very bourgeois of you. So how was Swan Lake?

Swanky! Great! I expected to be bored to death, but it was actually like a magical fairy tale. Shamed me into renewing my commitment to barre.

Did you?

No. Anyway… We were talking about Russia, not my exercise regime.

Speaking of regime – have you seen the Orwellian signs?

Not really, no. That’s probably the scariest part. The invisibility of it to a Western visitor.

You’re hardly a Westerner?

It’s all relative, isn’t it? In Russia I’m totally a Westerner. Someone even asked us if we’re from America. ‘Ameryka?’ I like how Russians pronounce America. But to be fair, yeah, before we went, some people warned us to be cautious. That Russia is not particularly friendly to Poles at the moment.

Isn’t it?

Well there’s unfriendly and then there is unfriendly. They kinda occupied our country in the past, so the bar was low. But no – we experienced no unpleasantness there and some of the locals – especially our hosts in the north and some of the carriage attendants (provodnitsas) on our trains were very friendly. The only difference was in how they treated us after their initial questions (are you French? Moldovan? English? American? No, we’re from Poland) is that they assumed we should understand their rapid Russian without a problem.

Did you?

No. Not without a problem. Or without vodka.

Ah, vodka. How was vodka?

Regimented. They sell alcohol only from 10am to 10pm. In Russia. Imagine that.

Preposterous.

Right? One has to be really well-organised to binge drink. Once I was even refused a cocktail during the day!

Why? Were you that drunk?

No, that young! It took me a while to understand that the waitress was explaining they had a policy of not selling alcohol to under 18s. I had to show the passport! Highlight of the whole trip, really. This and excellent pelmeni.

What are pelmeni?

Relatives of Polish pierogi and Ukrainian varenyky.

Right, that clarifies it…

Dumplings! Surely everyone knows the delights of Eastern European dumplings! Boiled, fried, served with cream or sauces, or smothered in fatty fried onion or even pork fat.

Pork fat? Really?

Yes, really. It’s actually a thing on its own. It’s called salo in Russian. But there are national equivalents in the whole Slavic region. Slabs or slices of cured pork fatback, seasoned, quite delicious.

Doesn’t sound delicious.

Trust me.

I thought you didn’t eat meat, especially pigs?

Well, shush. It’s rude to be fussy and refuse to try national delicacies when you’re a tourist. Normally I don’t eat meat so once in a while… Anyway, we’re getting side-tracked. Ask me a Russia-related question.

Metro in Moscow. Is it impressive?

It is when you’re a Londoner used to scurrying like a rat through tiny shabby corridors and perching on the edges of overcrowded narrow platforms, every morning risking my life­­–

We get it, you live dangerously.

Yes, well and Muscovites? (Is that the word for the inhabitants of Moscow?) They travel in style. Granted, the style resembles a mausoleum of soviet grandeur but still. Impressive. Some stations are like ballrooms. No tube station in London even remotely resembles a ballroom. There is an urban legend that the Circle line (brown colour) was a result of Stalin placing his coffee mug on the map of proposed metro lines, leaving a round brown stain that was then added to the plan.

Grand.

Yes, grand is a good word. A lot of the things in Russia were grand. Their monumental scale, the audacity, the lavish decor!

Do you think they’re trying to compensate?

What, in a Freudian way? Wait, that wasn’t Freud, Freud was all about sexuality, it was the Austrian psychologist Adler who explained shady behavior as an overcompensation for feelings of inferiority.

Right. And this is what Russia was doing? Is still doing?

Perhaps! This grandeur is not only visible in the historical relicts of the bygone era. Look at Adler.

The dead Austrian psychiatrist?

No, Adler near Sochi.

Sochi – the Black Sea resort? Where Putin has a villa? Where the Winter Olympics were?

Yes, there. Actually, not quite there – Adler is right next to Sochi. And it’s actually where the 2014 Winter Olympics really were.

Ok, so what about Adler near Sochi?

The Olympic village is crazy – Russian grandeur on acid. Neon lights, fairytale hotels, singing fountains and electric vehicles of all shapes and sizes. The venues, everything, constructed from scratch.

Putin’s folly.

Putin’s diversion.

You’re about to get political.

Yes I’m tempted but perhaps that’s not a place for discussing Russian invasion in Ukraine.

Intervention you mean?

No, I mean invasion and that’s part of the problem; how it’s presented. But yes, let’s not go there this time. Let’s talk about the sea, the sand and all things grand.

The Black Sea. Is it actually black?

Well, actually it is. Greyish. The water is greyish and dark too.

Doesn’t sound like a paradise.

They have banana trees and fried fish, what else do you want? Ok, fair enough the seaside has a soviet type of shabby glamour to it. Adler specifically – it’s cheaper than Sochi proper, more run-down, family friendly…

You hate family friendly.

Yes, I didn’t say it was my favourite place on earth, did I. It’s a bit like my home town district, Nowa Huta, which I talk about here. But I find most seaside resorts actively depressing, so…

So let’s leave this controversial confession for another post.

Already on it. ‘Seaside tantrums’ coming soon.