The final stretch into of road into Moscow was hectic, but largely uneventful until a random police checkpoint. There I was met by a stony faced officer who requested my documents. I produced my passport hoping he wouldn’t press me about insurance. All fears vanished as soon as he saw my Australian passport. He started shouting “AFSTRALEE-ITS!” (which is Russian for “Australian”) and roared laughing. Next thing he runs into the station with me closely behind and he’s excitedly proclaiming this news to the other cops. Turns out one of them has a friend living on the Gold Coast and he is due to visit him in November. I gave him my address and email and after a quick selfie I was off. Well, not quite. They noticed I had “Burger King” in my GPS and started to pay me out and laugh about me going for a burger. I sheepishly admitted I had a hankering for a burger and took their excessive ridicule on the chin. And so with the police check behind me and shortly after that a satisfying Whopper in the belly, I made my way into the famed city of Moscow.
There’s something really special entering a famous city that you’ve never seen before on a motorcycle. It’s a mixture of awe, excitement, anticipation and anxiety. And its not just any city. There are only two so far that have really stood out. The first was Istanbul. It’s unique setting adjoining the beautiful blue waters of the Sea of Marmara is stunning. The second was Moscow. The closer I got to the centre the more grand it felt. Several times I thought I had reached the centre only to realise there was even more grandeur to come. With the Moscow River winding through it, The Kremlin, St Basil’s Cathedral and many more spectacular buildings, including the Ministry of Defence, it is some thing to behold. To add even more atmosphere, nightfall had come and I was dazzled by the all the lights. As the bike and I blended into the chaotic traffic I felt like a king. Standing on the pegs and soaking it all up, you can’t help but feel on top of the world. I’d just ridden nine hours, had endured the closest shave of my life but a few days earlier and was now finally in the heart of Russia (on my second attempt after the lost passport debacle many months earlier). Here I was in the city that was at the centre of so much intrigue both in my youth due to my Cold War obsession and even now as global geopolitics continues to twist and turn in unexpected directions.
I eventually arrived at may AirBnB and was met by my gracious host Victor who showed me into what was a lovely one bedroom apartment. Given the lateness of my arrival and the length of my journey, the night would be a quiet one and I was soon sound asleep. The next day had more in store. My English mate Atul had arranged to meet me in Moscow for the weekend and so it was we found ourselves walking all around, taking in the sites of the Red Square, the Kremlin, St Basil’s and more.
Note: Atul is your typical European jetsetter. He’s happy to fly anywhere at the drop of a hat (flights in Europe are ridiculously cheap too) and readers may recall he flew to Milan to meet me last November. Furthermore, Atul’s wife is Russian, so he is very familiar with Moscow which was a bonus. His Russian is pathetic though and I told him he could probably do a bit better than “Spasibo” (thank you) given his marital status.
With the football World Cup just around the corner, the streets were adorned with flags, banners and billboards promoting the big event. Sure enough within a couple of days the World Cup tourists started arriving in droves. There whole city suddenly felt incredibly festive and what seemed like half of Latin America was upon us. Everyone was wearing their team colours, some singing and chanting, others taking selfies and group photos with locals, but without a doubt, there was just an immense feeling of anticipation and excitement. I’d never really thought I would attend a World Cup, but with this build up of festivities, it’s appeal became immediately apparent to me. No matter where you went within a 5-10km radius of the centre of Moscow you would see fans from around the world. The Russians were loving it just as much if not more than the fans. The mixture of Latin American exuberation (most evidently present in the Argentinians and the Mexicans) was no doubt bemusing to the Russians who more and more came out of their normally reserved shells to embrace this euphoria. As time went by, this would only increase and I think aside from economically, hosting the World Cup would prove to be a wonderful way for the local population to expose their wonderful hospitality to the world.
During our expeditions around the city, I met the lovely Katya who was to become my companion and guide. We hit it off immediately and her company made Moscow even more special. Katya was convinced I’d not seen near enough of Moscow and to be fair Atul and I did enjoy some nice restaurants and bars, including a wonderful dinner with his parents-in-law. Nevertheless, thanks to Katya, I got to see the beautiful Gorky Park and the Patriarch Ponds. Interestingly, Gorky Park has undergone a major transformation. As recently as 10 years ago it was a dangerous and desolate place where crime and drug use was well established. Since then though, the government made a concerted effort to clean it up and the transformation is hard to comprehend. Now you see families, couples, sporting groups and tourists roaming around freely day and night in amongst carefully curated gardens, fountains, ponds with restaurants and cafes interspersed tastefully amongst nature. There are even small sporting facilities, the most surprising of which was beach volleyball courts (fully in use).
During my time in Moscow I also went to the FIFA Fan Fest for the opening game of the World Cup. This is a fantastic concept (not dissimilar to other events like Wimbledon) where huge tv screens are erected near the stadiums and further afield to allow people who don’t have tickets to see the live action complete with its own great atmosphere. And a great atmosphere it was! Literally thousands of fans and locals turn up and celebrate the sporting contest. Food and beer is plentiful (although slowly served) and there are concerts after the game. Everyone has a ball and it all happens again for the next game regardless if which city it is in! Over the course of my few weeks in Russia I would attend a couple more of these and each time the atmosphere was fun, lively and frenetic.
During my time in Moscow, I was able to marvel at the Metro stations in all their grandeur. I know the word grandeur has been heavily used for this post (dare I say to the point of saturation), but it is certainly justified. Chandeliers in metro stations, marble carvings, ornate high ceilings… it is actually crazy! The metro is without a doubt certainly a tourist destination in itself.
It wasn’t all fun and games. I reunited with Sheldon (the Aussie world adventure biker) and his Russian adventure biker friend, Andrey, for another search for the ever elusive third party motorcycle insurance. Again, it was another full day, but miracle of miracles we got it! I still don’t know how. But let me recount. We went to a couple of insurance outlets and got the usual “can’t be done”. But then either Andrey or the insurance guy had this number of some other guy… let’s just call him Ivan. So Ivan operates out of, I don’t know, his back shed or something and somehow, he and only he seems to be able to get this through the system. So we send scans of our bike papers, passports, licences etc and he gets to work.
Now at this point everything seems pretty dodgy, but I’m used to that and my care factor for identity theft was close to zero, so I figured I had nothing to lose. (I think losing all your money and your passport in Iran changes your perspective a little with these things). And then about an hour or so later, it was done. What’s more, it was fully legit. We were emailed the insurance documents from Ivan and the guy in the insurance outlet printed them out and that was it. Furthermore, he even looked them up in the national insurance system and believe it or not, our policy numbers were recorded in all their glory! I have no idea how it was done and I don’t know anyone else will ever get it done, but I guess we just have to contact “Ivan” again and see if he can work his magic. Life never ceases to amaze.
I also needed a few KTM parts and spares after the crash and took a ride through the Moscow chaos to Bikeland (the KTM dealer) and got most of what I needed. As always the guys love checking out the bike and asking about the trip, so it’s nice to share with fellow enthusiasts.
One thing that did catch me out was the Uzbekistan visa. I’d certainly noticed I’d adopted a more lax attitude since embarking on Part 2 of the Adventure and it wasn’t until I was close to leaving Moscow that I realised this was the place I needed to get my Uzbek visa! I went in to the embassy on a Tuesday fully prepared and got my forms lodged. It was surprisingly quiet and there was only one guy ahead of me on the queue. I counted myself lucky and confirmed that my visa would be ready in three days. After reiterating with the guy at the counter that I would return on Friday, my plan to depart on Saturday seemed assured. I’d already spent extra time in Moscow and I knew I had some major riding ahead of me just to get across the country. My plan was to depart Moscow on Saturday so everything seemed in order. That was until I returned to the embassy on Friday only to discover it was shut due to the commencement of Ramadan. Grumbling to myself about the polite, but grossly inept embassy representative, I walked off wondering what I would do next.
Of course like most clouds that float across your horizon, a silver lining soon becomes apparent. Originally, I’d given consideration to doing the “Golden circle” ride north of Moscow. Katya, however, said I’d be best served to visit just Sergiev Posad because the towns were all quite similar and it offered quite a lot with the added bonus of being the closest. Now, with a couple of days to spare, I could take a peek. And so on the Saturday I was packed up and on my bike heading north. The ride was boring but short and I when I arrived I was glad to experience something new. Sergiev Posad is home to a stunning monastery complex. Not only is beautiful, but there is an air of serenity and tranquility about it the moment you step inside its walls. Many religious folk walking between buildings, many pilgrims reverent in their attire and demeanour and many tourists just enjoying the ambience. I spent a couple of hours taking it all in and enjoying the dramatic slow down in pace from the hectic activity of Moscow. Later I would take in a meal and a few beers at a brand new bar. It certainly seemed out of context after the silence of the monastery, but I was greeted by an enthusiastic bar owner and a trendy young clientele. Being close to Moscow, I imagine people come to these sorts of towns for the weekend. Not only that, but having a “Dacha” or weekend house in the country is very popular for Muscovites so it’s reasonable to expect that many of them were visiting their Dachas that weekend.
Once back in Moscow, Katya and I enjoyed a farewell dinner on the Sunday and come Monday morning I was back in the Uzbek embassy hopeful for success. This time the place was a rabble. I nervously waited amongst the impatient crowd where several shouting matches erupted between Uzbek officials and eager visa applicants and after about two hours of waiting in the heat and the rabble with my motorbike gear on I managed to get my passport shoved into the man’s hands. I then paid up at another counter and came back and waited. Fortunately, my name was called out and I was handed my passport with a clean crisp Uzbek visa inside! I returned to my bike on the street thankful none of my luggage had been stolen and within minutes I was on my way to Voronezh. A long ride was ahead of me, more of the same straight boredom, but I was used to it by now. Moscow had exceeded my expectations and it all just seemed like a blur. But that’s the truth about a lot of places when you travel for such a long time. They come and they go. The only constant seems to be change. It can leave you disoriented at times, but mostly it leaves you humbled and in awe.