My Wonderful Trip To Russia.
Flying one way and crossing half Europe by train on the way back.
Someone on Medium has asked me to write about my many travels in Europe. It had never occurred to me -it is something I hold in my heart as a gift from God- as I don’t usually take pictures when I travel, because I feel they are personal experiences, very intimate, and therefore difficult to share.
Each person sees life in a different way, and a city or country is unalike for two people, even if what is being seen or experienced is the same. We believe we see with our physical eyes, but I disagree with that opinion: we see with our spirit, psyche and mind. When we look at something, we have inner reactions and this is what is important. That is why I don’t take pictures, because for me traveling means finding me and my past. Many times I have had what it is called “déjà vue”, which is another way of saying “ I was here in another life, with a different name, nationality or language, but my real self is eternal; what changes is the outer form”.
Anyway, I will try to talk about some of my travels before writing about esoteric books, because I am above all a spiritual writer, trying to convey a message, not with a proselytizing intention, but to create a little understanding of life for those who believe our passage through this planet is nothing more than to be born, grow, reproduce and die. How sad !
What I am going to tell you is only MY experience and what I saw.
My great adventure.
I was in Europe for 30 years, of which I only returned to America for several months to settle personal matters, but my life over there pulled me badly, so I went back again and my Divine Plan still kept me abroad for another 9 years. Also in that span of 30 years I had to live in Canada for 3 months in the francophone area, but later, after one more year in Europe, I gathered my things and ended my apprenticeship in that precious continent, which is still the obligatory stay for those who want to understand the History of the Western Civilization and the development of the culture from which we come.
Now this is very easy to do. There are the “Digital Nomads” who travel and work for companies all over the world, earning what they need to live; but at that time, there was no possibility of working on the Internet. In fact, I doubt work-at-home was a job option. Jobs I did in Europe were based in the city where I was living at the time, and I have to admit the English language and next Spanish opened many doors for me, even if they were not permanent.
A bit of history and my own historical roots.
Of all the countries of Europe, two stand out for me, because it can be said they are the ones have had children in the American continent: Spain and England. Of course, Spain had more children and had to confront established empires with millions of inhabitants, solid and advanced cultures, which made its conquest and colonization a true feat of globalization, fusion and exchange at all levels for three centuries.
England, however, found in North America isolated groups, large spaces in which to move, tribes with few inhabitants and very weak links between them, if not clearly hostile. In any case, in the light of history, I have not seen any fusion of cultures in the English world, not even during the century of its empire. Nor in India did either side learn anything, except the desire to separate. I do not blame the Hindus.
Those two countries and their cultures are my historical roots. In both worlds I feel myself, there is something of me that lives, studies and accepts everything, from its pre-history and origins as a human group, through its entry into Western Civilization, and how it grew and became a country, and . . up to the present day. In both countries I have lived almost half of my life. I have to accept that outside of Europe -all of it, no exceptions- and the American continent -from Canada to Patagonia; besides, I include Hawaii-, I know where the rest of the world is, but I have no desire to go. I am sorry, but I am a deep Westerner, and “strange” or “exotic” cultures don’t say anything to me. (This doesn’t mean I don’t respect them. I do. I simply don’t understand them; or rather, I don’t feel anything).
Russia and me.
Well, without further more ado, I am going to talk about the trip to Russia in 1984, when there was still a representative of the Kremlin’s gerontocracy, which marked the decline of a system already fatally wounded, with a stagnant and almost halted economy. After that old man came Mikhail Gorbachev, who was in his 50s, and opened up the closed Soviet Politics. A few years later, in 1989, the Russian “empire” collapsed like a house of cards.
I did not want to go to Russia as a tourist. It seemed to me extremely boring -after having gone alone or with friends to other nations- to arrive in a country where I would be herded around like a sheep and not be able to walk the streets freely, observe the people, converse with someone if they spoke English or Spanish, or buy some food in a supermarket or a souvenir in any local store. The idea of that kind of tourism did not appeal to me at all, neither in Russia, nor anywhere else in the world.
During a stay of only few months in Bordeaux, France, one day in June, through a Spaniard girl friend, I found out there was a trip to Russia to stay one month over there, in August, studying Russian at the University of Leningrad (now St. Petersburg), and staying in a simple hotel. It was a package that included many things, besides the flight Madrid-Moscow-Madrid. She told me the price and it seemed more than reasonable for a month. There were people of various nationalities, all Latins -Italians, French and Spaniards- mostly professionals in various fields. My friend wanted to go, but refused to share a room with a stranger, so she suggested we be roommates to avoid surprises. “Better the bad things you know than the good things you don’t know” — I thought.
Everything was arranged smoothly, and on August 1st there we were flying by Aeroflot from Madrid to Moscow -3 hours and a half-, with a very nice group and a Spaniard guide. We never had any problems, rather a lot of companionship. When we arrived in Moscow, a bus was waiting for us at the airport and we were transferred to the hotel for lunch. We wanted to rush off to Red Square, the Kremlin, St. Basil’s Cathedral, . . . and other landmarks, so we asked for information about the nearest subway station and walked out quickly. We did not want to return at night.
Once in the subway, the first anecdote of the trip happened. At the station, they gave us the map of the subway network to know where we had to get on and off. I took the map and wanted to count how many stations we had to go through to get to Red Square -a colleague said “Krasnaya Ploshchad”, and I repeated it. A man in his 40s said something to me and turned the sheet over in my hands. Ah! The laughter was unanimous. Since none of us knew any Russian, we didn’t care about the position of the paper written in the Cyrillic alphabet. The Russian man marked on the map where our station was and where Red Square was. The return trip would be the same way. We gave him many “spasibos” (thanks) for his kindness.
It was a wonderful afternoon seeing the three places mentioned above in the center of Moscow, at our leisure and totally free. We went back to the hotel without problems, had dinner and after a long after-dinner -Latin habits !!-, we went to sleep at a good time, because the next day we would be from one side to the other, until we ended up at the train station to travel all night from Moscow to Leningrad in a berth.
We left the hotel after breakfast, already with our suitcases and other personal belongings, and boarded the bus. The day we spent in Moscow was divided among a cruise by the Moskva River, a visit to a beautiful church whose name I can’t remember, a visit to the Tretyakov Gallery (paintings), a quick lunch, a monument to Lenin, free time for some walking and a restaurant for dinner. We jumped on the bus once again and arrived at the train station to leave for the north. I loved Moscow, but the predominant color was gray. It lacked color, joy. “It must be the Slavic soul” — I thought. I was wrong. That has changed a lot.
Although traveling by train in a couchette is more comfortable because of the possibility of getting horizontal, one arrives at the destination just as drowsy. At least me, as I am unable to sleep in any means of transportation. When we arrived in Leningrad, a bus and a guide-chaperone (Kira) were waiting to take us to the hotel. Kira spoke very good Spanish, was very kind and sweet, and we could tell she was delighted to be with us. Her mission was to answer our questions about the big city, to see at breakfast if anyone had a physical ailment (from feeling sick to asking for an ambulance)(1), and to accompany us on the scheduled tours during our long stay. She introduced our Russian teachers to us and said when and where the classes would start the next day. The rest of the time we were free to go wherever we wanted, though she recommended us not to go beyond 40 Kms (25 miles) from Leningrad. At that time it was not allowed to go to Siberia.
Here western paranoia surfaced. After 40 kms, will there be mines buried? Will the army be patrolling military spaces? Will they not want us to see something and blindfold us? Will they send us to Siberia? Ha, ha ! Nonsense. When one day we three risky solo visitors (a French companion, my roommate and me) went to the city called Pushkin -24 kms (16 miles) south of Leningrad- to see Petrodvorets, the summer palace of Tsar Peter the Great (1672–1725) -which was not included in the tourist package-, we realized it was almost impossible to find a place to eat a simple bite, let alone to enter a washroom where . . . well, . . . to do something . . . sitting down. Nobody covered our eyes, but we did have to cover our noses several times. Kira acknowledged, without complexes, there was not enough infrastructure to open up mass tourism to all parts of Russia. Period.
The stay in Leningrad for me consisted of getting up late -many days I did not go to Russian class (2)-, reading the History of Russia or washing my clothes (luckily it was summer) in the sink of my room, eating with the group when they came back from their classes, going in the evenings to visit museums (3), tsarist palaces, cathedrals, monuments, beautiful parks, opera and ballet theaters (we saw several performances), walking along the avenues, libraries, bookstores, . . . All culture. We also used to sit by the Neva River with our feet inside the water, watching the evening fall. The sky never got dark. Saint Petersburg has so-called summer “white nights”, because it is light all night long. We would go back to the hotel for dinner and after long after-dinner meals, we would retire to sleep. I was always tired for the long walking; that is why I didn’t get up for class and ordered breakfast in my room.
One thing to remember about that month in Leningrad was the ease of buying and eating caviar. There was black and red caviar, and it was served to us almost every day as an appetizer before lunch. If the Russian teachers had lunch with us, they would offer us their caviar, because they said they were sick of it. That is life: they preferred a hot dog to caviar, as it was very cheap and common, but for us . . . no. I never ate caviar outside Russia again.
When our stay in Leningrad came to an end, we gathered our things and traveled one night by train to Moscow, where we also stayed for a day and a half -we arrived early in the morning and had nothing scheduled, so everyone did what he pleased, mostly shopping. The next day, after lunch we left for the airport, because the plane back to Madrid would leave around 4 pm.
I would not go on that plane.
Going back home.
In Madrid, I had told the agency organizing the trip to Russia I wanted a ticket to return by train from Moscow to Bordeaux. I still had one more week to travel, so they dropped me off at the Central Station on the way to the airport, so I could take an overnight train to Warsaw. My panicked roommate asked me to contact her right away upon arriving in Bordeaux. As I got off the bus, an Italian friend said to me, “How brave you are!”.
I had several hours for the night train, and leaving my suitcases in the left-luggage, I went to take the Moskva river cruise again, which took longer than expected. Arriving at the station I had to run at full speed, so I jumped the queue at the office to pick up my luggage, which they understood when they saw a frantic foreigner saying “pallalsta, pallalsta” (please, please) and pointing to the wristwatch. I climbed on the last carriage of my train and walked forward looking for my car and my compartment, dragging my two suitcases. I arrived panting, out of breath, at my seat with only three minutes left for the train to leave. A man opened the compartment door and stared intently at me. He closed it and left. One minute later, my train started. I always had the idea that “the man” was verifying I was on the train ready to go.
From then on, I traveled by night trains to make the most of the time. I visited the capital of Poland for 3 days. I liked Warsaw. Then I stayed in Poznan (4) one night and one full day. Next, I stayed five days in Berlin after crossing the infamous wall that divided the two Germanies. Berlin was still divided and the vibes were sad for me, but I felt I wanted to come back. After the Reunification, it is now the most dynamic city in Europe. I love it. The last stage was quite long, from Berlin to Bordeaux, although I had to change trains in Paris. I arrived tired, sleepy, but happy.
When I called my former roommate a few days later, she told me everybody on the bus was really scared seeing me standing alone at the train station in Moscow with my two suitcases. They thought anything could happen to me. OK. “It could”, but nothing happened to me, because I am not used to being out of my hotel (5) after dark in any city unknown to me. I am a very careful person. She also told me she had been called by a few of our fellow travelers from the Russia trip to hear from me. They were worried.
Well, I was back safe and sound. Everything had been perfect. I had more knowledge, more books and more experience. Could I ask for more?
Now it was time to think in the Russian soul. I knew I had met wonderful people, nice and sweet, very polite and uncomplaining, but . . . why their History is so full of misfortunes and tragedies? The esoteric books say mankind will reach Perfection through the Slavic soul. So, which is the Russian’s soul mistake I didn’t see? To understand this it is necessary to stay long enough in the country to know their language to grasp how they think, and then sense how they feel.
I have other things to do. I started thinking where to travel the following summer.
(1) No one had a cold, so we didn’t get to know the Russian Health System.
(2) I really had no interest in learning Russian. My third language is French. I wanted to visit Russia calmly, to have a long stay; to get on the buses, streetcars, to go down to the subway trains. I wished to observe people, to catch the Russian soul, to talk with them about life, about their culture, about the world, to feel the Soviet system with my own perception, and to learn a lot. And that is what I got.
(3) I went to the “Hermitage” five times with some fellow travelers and I always went out with the idea I was missing more than I had seen. It is huge — five buildings together. Museums in Europe span centuries and centuries of history and culture. It is impossible to take it all in.
4) Poznan, Poland, is halfway between Warsaw and Berlin. In this city the Peace Treaties were signed between Franklin D. Roosevelt, Joseph Stalin and Winston Churchill at the end of World War II.
(5) I don’t usually go to a hotel. In Europe I make use of the Youth Hostel Network, because I feel safer despite I have to share my room with other girls -kind of dormitories. They are very guarded places at night. I am always back at the hostel at sunset, and during the day I walk in public places with people coming and going. Cultural centers always have security officers guarding the treasures on display.
