The Bay Window
Russia, Unexpectedly
Sometimes the best journeys are the ones you never planned.
“The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only one page.”
— Saint Augustine“Coming on a small trip?” my friend Bindu asked as soon as I picked up her call.
We had been planning a small getaway to a quaint little homestay at Coonoor for ages, and somewhere between our tight schedules and the pandemic, it just hadn’t materialised. The utter boredom of an uninteresting day, combined with the fact that I had been craving a much-needed break, hastened my reply.
“Of course, Bindu. I am in,” I replied excitedly, as I conjured up images in my head of a beautiful drive up the Nilgiris and the relaxing weekend I might get to spend there.
“In that case, get ready for a trip to Russia,” she said excitedly, leaving me completely agape.
Well, it was not Coonoor she was talking about, but a conducted group tour to Moscow, Saint Petersburg and Murmansk, which happened to be some place in the Arctic Circle… literally on the top of the globe!
A Kochi-based tour company, Benny’s Royal Tours, was the organiser, and Bindu, an avid traveller herself, had got interested in the tour because of the possibility of seeing the Northern Lights, or the Aurora Borealis, at Murmansk. The trip would commence on the 21st of October, last for eight days, and we would return on the 29th.
Forget about an international tour; I hadn’t even imagined a simple Sunday drive… and this was going to be an eight-day foreign tour! How would I manage the home front? And what about my hectic work schedule? Would my family suffer in my absence? Moreover, the cost involved was huge. Was I wasting hard-earned money?
But my family would have none of it.
My son, Varun, immediately started Googling up Russia. Without mincing words, he said, “You are not getting any younger. A few years down the line, and you may find it physically unfit to do such a trip. Don’t miss out on this, for God’s sake!”
(The typical pragmatic Virgo that he is, Varun also added a few more choice sentences, which I’d rather not let the world know.)
My sister, Deepa, who was planning to return to her house in Hyderabad, offered to extend her stay until after I returned, so that our mother would not be left alone.
My octogenarian mother, an avid reader of travel-related stories, found it exciting too.
And that’s how the decision was made.
Like most people of my generation who loved books, my earliest introduction to Russia was through Mikhail Sholokhov’s 'And Quiet Flows the Don.' The four-volume book, stored in a brown leather box in our ancestral home at Manjallur, along with a lot of other books belonging to my maternal uncle , had aroused my curiosity during childhood, especially because of the pictures on its hardbound covers. But being all of ten years old at the time, there was no way I could make sense of the small printed words stuffed into those pages.
Every year, during the long summer vacations, this became a sort of ritual. I would take great pleasure in opening the box and taking out the musty-smelling books. There were thick, hard-bound copies of Mein Kampf, War and Peace, Das Kapital, the four volumes of 'And Quiet Flows the Don', and some others whose titles escape my memory now.
Just as I got old enough to savour the printed treasures in the box, I found, to my horror, that the whole cache—including my collection of precious Amar Chitra Kathas that my father had brought me over the years—had been completely destroyed by termites.
I was heartbroken.
Later, during my college days, I got an insight into the life of the Czar and Czarina and the effects of the Russian Revolution through Danielle Steel’s 'Zoya'. A true-blue romantic at heart, I literally cried while reading about the life of Zoya and the cruel fate of her cousins, the innocent children of the Imperial family.The grand palaces, the magnificent dresses worn by royalty, the precious jewellery, the horse-drawn carriages, the angry mob of revolutionaries… everything became real and vivid in my imagination as I read and re-read the book, word by word. I got a glimpse into the acute food shortages in Russia and their tough lives in freezing weather conditions. Moscow and St. Petersburg became places familiar to me after reading that book.
Unfortunately, Zoya is no longer part of my physical book collection, ever since some unknown person ‘borrowed’ it. I do have a digital copy though.
Rasputin was another Russian character made familiar to the whole world, thanks to Boney M in the late ’70s. But it was only much later that I became interested enough to read about that mysterious and enigmatic person whom Russians loved to hate.
I started checking out documentaries and movies about Russia and its history on Netflix, and my interest in visiting the place started escalating. I must say that the days prior to my travel to Russia were truly eventful.
If we had a government spying on the activities of civilians, they would surely have noted the unusual interest in Russia coming from our IP address.
While Varun was busy Googling the places mentioned in the itinerary that Densal, the tour manager from Benny’s Royal Tours, had sent me, my sister busied herself researching the various souvenirs available in Russia, with the Matryoshka doll being foremost on her list. Some of my other friends dropped not-so-subtle hints about vodka being the national drink of Russia. Priya, another friend who had visited Russia some time earlier, updated me about the delicious Georgian food available there.
My son developed a rather sadistic pleasure in reminding me about the extreme weather conditions, which, as per his words, were “a pleasant 2 to 8 degrees”. And to think that I actually freeze to death in movie theatres!
Conducted group travel was, again, something new to me. I did have my reservations about travelling with a whole lot of strangers. But the advantage of such travel, as I soon found out, was that the tour company would take care of all the required documentation and legalities of travelling to a foreign land, leaving me totally free to worry about the clothing I needed to carry.
Shopping for the trip was another experience.
My friend Rani, who had experienced German winters, and my sister Deepa, who had stayed in London for a few years, gave me a lot of tips, the main one being the importance of ‘layering’—apparently the only way to combat freezing temperatures.
Thermals, fleece jackets, layered jackets, earmuffs, caps, woollen socks, fur-lined shoes…
I was doubtful if I could get good ones in this part of the world, but Decathlon solved my problem. I must say, they have an amazing range of winter clothing depending on temperatures. I only wish their colour palette were wider and included some more feminine hues.
As our departure date neared, Bindu and I frequently started exchanging notes on the essentials required. My sister insisted on my carrying basic medicines and prepared a medical kit complete with paracetamol, cough lozenges, antacids, Band-Aids, pain balms and what not. I also packed a few biscuit packets and some dry snacks, just in case I found the food unpalatable, being the picky and choosy non-vegetarian that I was.
There were 68 people in the travel group, who were to travel on two different flights. While one group was flying Emirates from Kochi to Dubai and then taking a connecting flight to Moscow, the second group was flying from Kochi by Air Arabia to Sharjah, with a connecting flight to Moscow. The two groups would meet at Moscow.
Bindu and I had opted to fly from Coimbatore to Sharjah and meet the Air Arabia group there before flying on to Moscow. Excited like two schoolgirls on a school excursion, we both boarded the Air Arabia flight to Sharjah in the wee hours of the 21st of October 2021.
And so, quite unexpectedly, my little weekend getaway to Coonoor had turned into an eight-day adventure to Russia.
First published on my WordPress blog, 22 November 2021.