Astrakhan, November 6

Take a night train from Kyiv Pasazhirskiy to Rostov na Donu, sleep through a journey along the river Dnipro, sit out the day, chatting and drinking tea / vodka with your fellow travellers, and in the evening you will find yourself in the Russian Federation. Somehow, it felt like entering the real thing, Ukraine only having been a sort of unconvincing stand-in all the time.

For Western Europeans, "Eastern Europe" means Poland, Czechia, Slovakia, countries which are actually Central European. This shows well how unaware they are of the third of their continent east of the line St.Petersburg-Istanbul. Yet Asia only begins after the Ural, thousands of kilometers east of that line. In between are 1000s of kilometers of villages, farmland, forests, mountain ranges, cities, big rivers and metropolisses. Almost all of this vast expanse of land is Russia, or has been Russia in the recent past. This "Russia" is often personified as a huge and wild she-bear. The European heart of the beast is lovely St.Petersburg with its white nights and canals; the head is sprawling and intimidating Moscow. And yet there are other large cities: Nizhny Novgorod (larger than Berlin) with its old centre above the confluence of the Oga and Volga rivers; Kazan, the prosperous multi-ethnic capital of the oil-rich Republic of Tatarstan; Samara on the bend of the Volga; Voronezh; Saratov; etc. But that is not all. The bear continues east of the Ural, in fact only a quarter of its vastness is situated in Europe. Considering the hugeness of mother Russia, the traveller feels dwarfed, a mere bug in the pelt of the bear. Although bears are known to be dangerous, unpredictable animals, their fleas have little to fear. So naturally a flea feels at home in the vast expanse of fur before him. The freedom to roam may even make it consider itself master of the pelt. Of course the illusion can only linger as long as things go well. So it's wise to stay constantly vigilant, especially when hopping through the bear's pelt alone. With this in mind, the experience of travelling through Russia can be incredibly rewarding.

To be short, I had plenty of choice when considering places to visit on my way east. I chose to make short breaks in Volgograd (pronounce: Wolgagrad) and Astrakhan. I arrived in Rostov at 7 PM (Moscow Time, UTC+4 - two hours ahead of Ukraine / Eastern European winter time), just in time to draw rubles from an ATM and catch the overnight bus to Volgograd. A bumpy ride (was it the road or the rusty suspension of the vehicle?) ensured I didn't catch any night rest. It was 6 AM, freezing cold and still totally dark when the grumpy driver told me to get off his bus, but the stalinesque towers topling Volgograd's railway station were a nice point of orientation. Ten minutes later, I found myself inside the station building, in a small, warm cafe for a cup of black tea. I left my bagage at the station's luggage service, washed my face in the toilets and spent the day strolling through the city centre.

Volgograd is better known under the name it bore between 1925 and 1961: Stalingrad. Of the nine heroes' cities (gorod geroy) of the former Soviet Union, this was maybe the most important. It was here that the back of Hitler's army was broken, to the profit of all but at the cost of a staggering 1 million Russian lives. The battle raged on for months and was probably the world's first experience with the horrors of modern urban warfare. The city was totally destroyed, so it's centre was a nice playground for Stalin's architects afterward. The result is crumbling concrete appartment buildings along broad, windy avenues, only interrupted by the odd square allowing for a large statue of Lenin. I can imagine this must be a relatively nice city in summer though, when the wind is not so cold.

There are a couple of museums dedicated to the Stalingrad battle. Even so, I found the war memorial the most impressive thing here. Even though I've been to the memorials at Brest, Kyiv and St.Petersburg, they are nothing compared to this. A strategic hill called Mamaev Kurgan, where the fighting was most severe, has been turned into a memorial the size of a park. It is full of concrete statues and ponds. Heroic songs and battle sounds are heard through speakers along the paths. Inside a large circular building, an eternal flame is guarded by the national guard. Thousands of names (only a small amount of the total) of victims are inscribed on its inner walls. On top of the hill is an iconic 80 m high victory statue of mother Russia wielding a sword.

Okay, the commies were the kings of concrete and the propagandistic nature of their creations often makes one feel uncomfortable. Looking at the statues and memorials in Russian cities, one often asks himself: where are the monuments for the millions of victims of the gulags and ethnic deportations, the millions who died in the famine Stalin inflicted on Ukraine, or for those brave enough to resist the Soviet dictators? However, this memorial is something else. It made me aware how large the gap remains between any personal comprehension and the reality of the horrors and valiance of Stalingrad.

The same evening (yesterday: November 5) I took the night train to Astrakhan. Actually had some sleep: the body amazingly adjusts to these things. Now sitting in a cafe close to the station where they have wireless internet. As everywhere, they think they do you a favour by having a TV with a Russian music channel on. Looking at these video clips, I wonder why Russians seem to overdo everything they copied from the West. Eurobeat techno music in the 90s might have sounded cheap, well: Russian techno sounds even cheaper. Eurobeat may have been repeating the same tunes over and over again, well: the Russian music is even more repetitive. Girls in those clips seem to have an even greater sudden natural urge to tear off their clothes than those in the video clips of European or American artists. Singers seem to have an even greater urge to show off their big cars, expensive watches and enormous hotel suites. Voices are even more electronically enhanced, etc. Oh well. Perhaps I really grow too old for this if I get this ironic. Let's go sight-seeing Astrakhan.