There’s a recent BBC documentary Our Man in Moscow describing a year in the life of Steve Rosenberg. He is one of the few western journalists who have managed to stay on the right side of the authorities. He posts regularly on YouTube. All this has set me thinking about my own experience in Russia.
In 2000 I had been attending a library conference in Stockholm. When it was over, I decided to take a trip to St Petersburg, via Tallinn in Estonia. Fortunately I met some Brits who warned me to be especially careful about my currency declaration. It was vital to declare everything to the last cent with no rounding up or down.
On the St Petersburg train, in the middle of the night, there was a tremendous banging on the door of my single sleeping compartment. I was to prepare for a currency check. (This, by the way, was the only time that a Russian spoke to me in English). In the next door compartment, I could hear a Canadian traveller being intimidated by the guard. When it came to my turn, the guard seemed surprised that I was not shaking in my shoes as I handed him the form and displayed my currency. He went away disappointed, unable to fine me like the Canadian. On reflection, this seemed to be a scam that would only work with people in single compartments.
In St Petersburg, I stayed in an international youth hostel near the Moscow Station. There was a 5-exit roundabout and I had to be careful to take the correct exit or I would be completely lost. The hostel served breakfast, which was a poor imitation of a western one. There were cornflakes which appeared to have less nutritional value than the packet. There was some pale pink watery jam, supposed to be strawberry.
The highlight of the trip was finding my way to the Hermitage Museum, two days running. I had free entry with my students pass (I was doing my PhD at the time). All in all, it was quite an adventure. I still have these souvenirs, depicting Russian folklore:
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