CRISPLY INTO A NEW DAWN

I looked at the smiling

faces around me and realised

that vodka wasn't the only

spirit in evidence that night

IT WAS midnight and it was Moscow, and as we boarded the sleeper at

Leningradski Voksal railway station, I lingered behind for a few moments

to savour some of the unique atmosphere. It was just as I'd imagined it

would be; there was a real buzz of excitement about the place as

travellers, oblivious to the biting cold and steady falling snow, joked

and chatted in small groups along the length of the platform. The sounds

of their laughter and farewell banter filled the night air, and mingled

with the calls and shouts of the porters as they struggled to control

their overladen baggage carts and sledges on the hard packed snow and

ice.

By 1 am we were all aboard the Red Arrow overnight train as it

thundered its way along the frozen steel tracks of the Moscow-St.

Petersburg railway. Outside, the temperature was 20[DEG] below and

falling; inside our sleeping berth however, it was near boiling point

and rising as the cabin heaters blasted away at full power. I searched

high and low for a temperature control switch, gave up and resigned

myself to sweating it out for the night in a 70mph sauna.

Despite the heat it was a comfortable cabin and as I settled down I

browsed through the pages of a guidebook which described this very

journey. I dozed off where it mentioned how I would be awakened in the

morning by the car-attendant proffering an ornately decorated metal and

glass cup brimming full of hot, dark Russian tea, freshly brewed in the

large samovar in his cabin. In the morning I awoke as the attendant

knocked on the door, entered, and placed a tray on the small bedside

table. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, rubbed the sleep from

my eyes and focused on two plain glasses of hot water with the strings

of Liptons' tea-bags dangling over the rims. Either the Samovar was on

the blink or the 200 roubles I handed over as payment was a bit on the

stingy side.

No matter, during the previous three days in Moscow we'd gulped down

plenty of authentic Russian tea (with the addition of spoonfuls of

ice-cream in lieu of milk) as we took time out from our relentless

assaults on the city's tourist attractions.

Our Moscow base was the Izmailovo Hotel, about 30 minutes drive from

the city centre. It was built on the 3000-acre Izmailovo estate to cater

for the 1980 Olympic Games, and with 10,000 beds, was the largest hotel

complex in the world. It is known locally as the Scottish Hotel due to

the amount of restoration work being carried out there by Scottish

architects and craftsmen. As part of the upgrading and refurbishment

programme, many western-style bars (charging western-style prices) are

being privately built within the hotel complex. A modest round of drinks

in one such bar cost 23,000 roubles, just less than the monthly income

of the waiter who served it.

Of the many changes taking place in Russia, one which directly affects

the visitor is that tourist shops and bars within hotel complexes no

longer accept foreign currency. Everything must be paid for in roubles.

There are currency exchange facilities in all hotels but dollar bills

are still in demand at the many roadside stalls and markets.

Russia's larget open-air market is held every Sunday in a football

stadium adjacent to the hotel. Rows of stalls overflowing with

Matryoshka dolls, fur hats and all manner of tourist paraphernalia fill

the vast stadium. Outside the market, a ragged line of unofficial

traders now ply their wares all along the half-mile route to the metro.

Here, as at most Russian metro stations, groups of vendors, mostly older

women, gather in all weathers to sell what few items of food and drink

they can get hold of, their meagre produce resting on upturned orange

boxes to keep them from the frozen ground.

Winters are generally crisp and cold in Moscow with little or no chill

factor. In St. Petersburg, however, situated on the shores of the Gulf

of Finland, an Arctic wind can suddenly whip up and plunge the

temperatures to well below zero.

St. Petersburg, established by Peter the Great as his ''window to the

west'', is a truly beautiful city with a unique blend of Western

influence and Russian culture. Tourist literature on the city often

recommends a summer's afternoon stroll down Nevsky Prospect, or a boat

trip through the network of canals during the White Nights of June, when

the sun hardly sets, but in winter there is an almost magical quality

about the city as the waterways freeze over and the gilded domes of its

many cathedrals and magnificent palaces glisten against the cold powder

blue of a winter sky.

The chill of the morning as we stepped from the sleeper train was soon

displaced by the warmth of our reception from Rita Olga and Lisa, our

volunteer guides and interpreters from the St. Petersburg Association

for Co-operation with Great Britain.

The Association, or Friendship Society as it is more widely know, has

been actively involved in promoting greater understanding and friendship

between Russia and Britain since the 1950s. Among other things, it

ensures that tourists have the opportunity of meeting and talking with

ordinary Russian people by visiting schools and homes throughout the

country. A welcome change, I thought, to seeing the country only through

the windows of a tour bus or through the pages of the local English

language newspapers. Most of our party took advantage of this

opportunity and were soon fixed up with home visits.

I was invited to dine at the Karachen family apartment where Natalia,

husband Victor, and some family and friends, had laid on a superb spread

of local produce. Dishes of caviar, salted salmon, hams, and a spicy

peppered wild boar sat alongside preserved fruits, vegetables and wild

mushrooms which had been grown at the family dacha during the summer

months. The children in the company entertained us with songs and

dances, as we adults observed the seemingly age-old custom of toasting

every worthwhile cause in single shots of neat Russian vodka.

As I reflected on the sweeping changes which have taken place in

Russia over the past few years and of the many hardships still being

endured by a great number of the population, I looked at the smiling

faces around me and realised that vodka wasn't the only spirit in

evidence that evening. Dusha, which is the name for the Russian spirit

or soul, was also there in abundance.

* TOUR organised through Multi Tours by The Scotland-Russia Society, 8

Belmont Crescent, Glasgow G12 8ET, tel 339-9706 and PIK Travel Services,

Prestwick International Airport, tel 0292-79822.

Cost from any Scottish airport serviced by British Airways is *#590

(#520 if joining tour at Heathrow) and includes return flights, airport

and transfer charges, eight nights full board hotel accommodation,

tourist guide services and train journey between Moscow and St.

Petersburg, sharing two berth sleeper compartment. Additional costs --

visa #10, insurance #17.

*Due to currency exchange fluctuation these prices are liable to

change at short notice.