The Russian Roadtrip – Vodka and Churches Part 1

Last month, we took a long-planned road trip through the so-called Golden Ring of Russia – a circle of about 650 km in total, starting in Moscow and going north-east, dotted with beautiful old Russian towns, featuring the obligatory gorgeous onion-domed church or seven, typically organized in so-called Kremlins. (Generally, a Kremlin is a major fortified complex found in the center of a typical old Russian town; the most famous one is, of course, in Moscow, and houses the Russian government, among other things). When I say long-planned, I mean I have been talking about it forever and we decided to go on it three days before the actual trip, which always means great prep work. We also decided to travel during the biggest holiday weekend in Russia – the May 9^th holidays (anniversary of Victory Day of the Second World War) – which made the task of finding hotels and navigating the traffic of Russians leaving Moscow to go to their dachas for the long weekend that much more exciting.

Undaunted, we were on the road by 9 am on a warm Thursday morning, headed to our first stop on the Ring – Sergiev Posad.  Without much dramatic traffic, we made the 90 km trip in about 2 hours, and set about to explore the city’s Kremlin. Given the holiday, the entire downtown was closed down, all, and I mean ALL, kids were dressed in military attire, adults were carrying flowers and portraits of older relatives who appeared to have died in the war, random groups of people were gathering in the corners singing patriotic songs, and the overall atmosphere was very festive if somewhat somber. To understand just how much this holiday means to Russians, you need to know that they don’t call the war World War II; rather, they refer to it as the War for the Fatherland. Any town worth its salt has a formal demonstration and a procession, and, apparently, throughout the day, there were 10 million (yes, TEN) people who attended and walked in such processions across the entire country.

 

Sergiev Posad’s Kremlin was as if it came from a postcard or the pages of an old Russian storybook. It had the gold-covered, onion-domed pristine church, the frescoes, the blooming trees, the white-washed seminary and busy-looking, all-clad in black, scuttling about young priests, clutching various important books and discussing theology over simple soup in the refectory. There were also the ubiquitous hordes of Chinese tourists who took picture of EVERYTHING, including of each other taking pictures. 

After we soaked-in the beautiful architecture, we left for our next destination – Pereslav-Zaleskyy. The exact opposite of Sergiev Posad, the tiny town featured an old Kremlin with somewhat crumbling but picturesque buildings and a lovely garden. After a half-hour walk and a deep theosophical discussion with the Diplomat about the differences between atheism and agnosticism (during which no agreement was reached), we continued to the last stop for the day – Rostov Velikiy.

Rostov was my favorite on this trip and has the most beautiful Kremlin on the entire route. First, we dropped by the stunning Spaso-Yakovlevsky monastery on the banks of the Nero lake, where I had to wear a headscarf and drank some holy water, which tasted funny and I had to go to the bathroom immediately (if very blessed, of course). After that detour we ended up at the Kremlin around 5 pm, which ensured that we were pretty much the only people there to enjoy the gorgeous architecture in the balmy warmth of the sunset, surrounded by the quiet of the early evening. Son declared he was not feeling well (he drank some holy water too) and stayed in car, which further enhanced the peace and quiet of the walk through the centuries-old utterly enchanting Kremlin complex.

Rostov

Filled with awe and hunger, we headed to our hastily booked “home for guests” perched on the banks of the lake. Since it was already 10 pm, we went to grab a quick bite. That turned out to be a bit of a daunting task given that we were, well, in the middle of not very much. Our only option consisted of a simple café/restaurant with nice outdoor seating with not much lighting, where several groups of happy folks appeared to have been celebrating Victory Day for a week. So, imagine everyone’s utter shock when we pulled in our giant SUV featuring a shiny red diplomatic license plate, and parked it in front of everyone. All conversation abruptly ceased and all gaze focused on us. At that point, someone pointed out importantly and quite loudly that we were apparently American (he had already managed to decipher the license plate symbols on his phone), and then inexplicably greeted the Diplomat with a hearty “As-Salaam-Alaikum.” We sat down next to them, and soon a key bilateral conversation ensued, ensuring friendship and cross-cultural exchange, enhanced by several offers of vodka shots. I ordered the only wine there was, a particularly horrid red varietal of unknown origin – the price for the bottle was $6, so you make your own conclusions. After a mediocre meal but a lovely discussion on various engaging themes varying from politics to the merits of a sink incinerator, it was time to go back. I offered the rest of the wine to the merrymakers, who happily accepted it but then insisted that we take a bottle of vodka in exchange.

Ipatiev Monastery

The next morning, we continued on to the next couple of pretty towns – Yaroslavl and Kostroma. The Yaroslavl Kremlin was rather large and well preserved, and hence as usual besieged by tourists. We used the bathrooms, took a quick gander to see the church, and went out to the neighboring Uspenskiy Cathedral Church, which featured stunning 16^th century frescoes. Next – Kostroma, where we strolled through the stunning Ipatiev monastery complex located on the banks of the Volga River. There, I almost caused an international scandal when I remarked to the Diplomat that there was a group of elderly German tourists visiting. Suddenly, their young and overly zealous Russian group leader jumped and yelled at me in heavily accented English, “If you have a problem with Germans, you have a problem with me!” Utterly stunned, I asked him what exactly his problem was to which he responded that he was joking. We clearly had different definitions of humor.

Tune in tomorrow for Part 2...