I’d seen him from a short distance, twelve months previously, he travelled alone aboard a plane to Moscow. He wore a dark tracksuit top zipped over a light t-shirt, and loose pale green shorts covered the knees he cradled by his chest. His hair sprayed out in loose brown curls beneath a khaki cap, highlighted by scribbles of grey. His pale thin lips lined a shallow smile, and his early morning eyes seemed glazed with relief. As his homeland slipped beneath a thin veil of cloud, he lifted his cap and ran his fingers through his hair, his lips parted just once to release his farewell thoughts: Let the journey begin, my friend. Today, he lay upright on the rippled white sheets of a double bed, in a simple, homely room on the island of Bali. Continue reading ‘A Thousand Glorious Times’
Archive for the 'Russia' Category
A Thousand Glorious Times
Published July 4th, 2008 in Russia, Trans-Mongolian Railway, Tibet, Singapore, Indonesia, Mongolia, Nepal, Sri Lanka, China and India. 6 CommentsTrans-Mongolian; it’s right down my street.
Published July 8th, 2007 in Trans-Mongolian Railway, Russia and Mongolia. 4 CommentsDumdum-De-DUM, dumdum-De-DUM, dumdum-De-DUM. It took me the whole 5 days from Moscow to Ulaanbaatar, to decide how I would portray the drum of the Trans-Mongolian train I alighted this morning. Say it with me, dumdum-De-DUM, softer, dumdum-De-DUM, emphasise the capitals dumdum, De-DUM, one-two, three-four, dumdum-De-DUM. Never has a journey left me so relaxed. To my right are a set of antelope horns, the hostel foyet is filled with lounge music and all I want to do is hug the keyboard, close my eyes and drift off to dreams of faraway places. Dumdum-De-DUM. Continue reading ‘Trans-Mongolian; it’s right down my street.’
I won’t usually be updating this quick but I’ve been consumed by the whole writing dream. Moscow has become more of an obsession than a destination, with each step I take along it’s roads I develop a new emotion for the people and the place. I woke today with desires to explore the famous Gorky Park, upon arriving I was so exhausted from the concentration I’d put into the journey, that I fell asleep on a bench for 2 hours or more. I can’t be sure, as I don’t carry a timepiece, I simply tell the time from glances at watches or food receipts- which is rare as I still cannot understand a word in written or spoken Russian so as yet have shunned the temptation of eateries.
I had a beer last night with a young Dutchman named Timo, amongst other things we discussed the Muscovite persona; straight faced, silent, kind, abrupt but one word Timo offered hit the nail on the head “they’re xenophobic” he proclaimed, and I swiftly agreed. For me, the people of Moscow appear to be sheepishly exploring the concept of freedom and expression, with tentative steps. Comparisons can be made with many major capitals, especially their European counterparts; the style of Paris women, the seclusion of London, the feisty nature of the Spanish, the pace of New York. Though underneath the xenophobic layer you’ll find the strong might of the Russian people, bore from the Soviet iron. I broke through this today, with comical ingenuity. Continue reading ‘Sleepless in Moscow’
As the air hostess undid the last, teasing button, a site beckoned that no traveller would find even with the aid of their guidebook. I gazed, longingly. I knew if I blinked, I would regret the moments I missed, as she knelt down slowly beside me she whispered those unforgettable words “what drink would you like with that Sir?”. With this, I woke from my mile-high slumber, groggy if somewhat startled.
My blurred vision afforded me the unexpected site of plastic coated minted lamb, the smell drifted with me as I turned to feast my eyes upon the trolley wielding Adonis. To my dismay, ’she’ had turned into a ‘he’ and my whole fantasy came crumbling cruelly down around me. I took little solice in washing it down with the glass of bitter orange juice, generously supplied by BMI. Continue reading ‘I’m in a Russia to start a travelling…’
