Robin's Blog: Wednesday 2nd April

It is now17:01 Volgograd time on Monday 7^th April. I am sitting alone in my hotel room at the Hampton by Hilton Profsoyuznaya, which is a very pleasant establishment, not far from the mighty Volga river. Two hours ago I waved good-bye to Iraida, who was setting off from Volgograd Railway Station, on the first stage of her journey back to Krasnoyarsk, in Siberia. An 18 hour train journey to Moscow, followed by a 5 hour flight to her home city. Since last Thursday morning we have rarely been apart, and it was a very emotional parting at the railway station. Lots of things have happened since our first real meeting last Thursday morning, and I really don’t know what I would have done without her. So, before continuing with the blogging of those events, I just want to say a very big, public thank you to her.

Моя дорогая Ираида, я хочу сказать большое Tам спасибо - ты был моим ангелом-хранителем. Без тебя я не знаю, что бы я сделал. Большое спасибо.

Now you may remember that last Wednesday afternoon my flight from London Heathrow to St. Petersburg had gone very well, that I had almost literally bumped into Bruno Pelletier in the baggage retrieval area, had been met by Alena and Tatanie, and had made it as far as the Moskovskaya Metro Station at Ploschad Vosstaniya. The first planned activity was to find a mobile phone shop, so that I could buy a SIM card for use in Russia, with Alena’s help. Just opposite the Metro Station, and almost next to the hotel was a Megafon shop, Megafon being one of the major telephony companies in Russia. We waited till the green man lit up and crossed the busy road – a countdown of seconds remaining was very helpful, and quite lengthy. I think it was about 25 seconds in which one had to cross the road or risk being being mowed down by on-rushing traffic.

Once in the phone shop, Alena explained what I wanted and a very helpful young man gave her a lengthy explanation of the possible deals. These she relayed to me and we made a choice – a SIM that would allow me access to text and phone calls throughout Russia. This was useful, because some SIM cards work only in a restricted number of cities here. The very reasonable price was agreed and I handed over cash and my passport, (the passport being obligatory for foreign visitors.) At the time I did not realise it, but this was to become a very significant few moment. He took my passport from me, handed a small piece of paper from it and I put it into my pocket, and then added to that pocket the receipt and agreement for the SIM card. I will be testing you on this later. The young man, Alexei, I think his name was, then checked that the phone was working. It was, so Alena and I left the shop and walked the few yard to the Octiabrskaya Hotel, a very large building which takes up an enormous amount of space on the corner of Ligovsky Prospect and the Ploschad. Some of the ground floor area is taken up by shops and cafes.

( I’ve just remembered that this notebook does not allow me to add accents to words, so please excuse any which are missing.)

We made our way to the main entrance with its massive doors and struggled through them. To open the door requires a push or pull of Herculaean order, but we managed, and climbed the marble steps into a very grand reception area. I think the hotel must have major internal reconstruction since my last visit in 1966, because I did not really recognise it at all. We trundled my luggage over to the reception desk and I introduced myself, handed over the passport for registration, checked in and paid for the one night stay in advance. This was another significant moment, another moment of unrecognised significance.

Ooh, this is very mysterious, isn’t it? All this significant stuff going unrecognised! I’m not certain I can take this building tension brought about my missing moments of significance. This is clearly building up to something.

A not too inaccurate reading of the situation. The building (in a dramatic sense, rather than bricks and mortar) tension.

But since the significance of the moment had been missed, I simply spent half an hour chatting with Alyona, before she went to spend a couple of hours with a fellow brunette who was staying in the same hotel, and I went up to my room (3063) on the 3^rd floor. It was a pleasant enough twin-bedded room with all of the normal facilities, and I settled in, did necessary ablutions and shaves and things and watched a bit of Russian TV until 20.00. Actually, I think it was a French news channel. I say think because, although it was in the French language, it could have been Belgian or Swiss TV. Anyway that’s absolutely irrelevant, and certainly not significant.

At about 20.00, my “Russian” phone rang and it was Alena, letting me know that she was waiting for me down in the lobby. She had very kindly agreed to accompany me for a meal, my invitation being offered as a way of saying thank you for bringing me safely to the hotel. She had also done some research and found a bar-restaurant, SPB, not far away, just off Nevsky Prospect, which had a good range of beers. It was quite cold as we walked the ten minutes to SPB, with a strong wind blowing down the wide boulevards. It seemed to me quite a dry wind, the temperature of +2C not being too unpleasant.

We were guided through a fairly smoke-filled area into a non-smoking section of the bar at the rear. We took our seats in a booth and began to peruse the menu.

We took a long time to peruse the menu, because Alena patiently waited whilst I tried to read it, and then she translated words I didn’t know.

That would be the majority of words then?

Perhaps. We also spent some time on the beer menu. There were quite a large number of beers on draught – local and international. I settled for a pleasant wheat beer brewed in St.Petersburg, and Alena had a smaller glass of Fuller’s “London Pride”. Both were in good nick, and I seem to remember that I had a second. For food Alena chose a salad, and I had a pork shashlik with a side portion of chips. Very pleasant.

Alena Semenstova

Isn’t she though?

I was referring to the meal and beer, but yes, she is a delightful young lady, who is currently studying at the University of St.Petersburg. She is also the vice-president of the St.Petersburg branch of the Bruno Pelletier Fan Club, and should really have been preparing stuff for the next day. We finished our meal, and our beers – Alena seemed to enjoy her first English beer – and then fought our way through the clouds of cigarette and cigar smoke to the fresh air outside.

By this time it must have been about 22.00, and the temperature had dropped a bit further =- so it really was fresh air. I escorted Alena back to the Moskovskaya Metro station so she could make her way back home, a journey of about an hour. We parted, and before returning to Octobriaskaya I decided to take some photos of the square, I did so, and was just turning to move towards the hotel when I was approached by two middle-aged ladies. I use the word ‘ladies’ loosely, if you get my meaning.

The next section has a health warning, and is not to be read by anyone under the age of 18.

Well not exactly, but…. So one of the ‘ladies’ sidles up to me and whispers something in my ear, naturally in Russian. I didn’t understand a single word. I thought she might be asking for money for a cup of coffee, or something.

Ah, so I’m getting the picture, carry on…

I replied to her that I was very sorry but that could not understand her.

There was a kind of a grunt by way of reply, and then, with the greatest of subtlety she said, “You want sex?”

This came as a bit of a shock, but I retained my sense of propriety and good manners, and said, ”No thank you. I’m a bit too old for that.” Not one to give up too easily the first lady…

It wasn’t, was it?

Wasn’t what?

The First Lady?

Don’t be facetious. Go and stand in the corner!

As I was saying, the first female who had approached me was not about to step back, the second didn’t seem too sure by now. “Age not important,” she said. Now normally I would have agreed with her absolutely, but not in this case, and I raised my hands in a “That’s final” gesture. It was at this point that, by way of making her point, she made a swift grab for the trouser department. By this time I was more than bemused, and was grateful that female number two pulled her companion away from me and they made their way towards the Metro station. I made my way very swiftly to the hotel, watched some tv and went to sleep!

The photos I took before being so rudely interrupted are below: