Faberge eggs. In the foreground is the “Standart” Yacht Egg of 1909, and behind it is the Alexander III Monument Egg of 1910. These are samples of Easter gifts that the Russian royal family gave to one another, and are on display in the Belfry on Cathedral Square in the Kremlin.
The struggle to be reunited with our bags continued. Aeroflot never phoned or emailed, and their contact numbers at the airport were either busy or they just didn’t bother to pick up. When a breach was made in the wall of silence, at last, they said they couldn’t find “a guy with a car” to bring the bags into central Moscow. For indeed, the bags were sitting at Sheremtyevo airport, gathering dust.
Only going to the airport was going to make anything happen. I left Robin to represent the MacKay brothers at the welcome banquet for our rail tour at the Marriott Royal Aurora hotel, and went to the airport with my good friend Galya — a native Russian speaker, but more usefully an expert in how business really is done in this country. At the airport, Aeroflot found another baffling but effective way to keep me from my bags: lock the door of the luggage office, and threaten to call the militia if I kept bothering them! After four hours at the airport talking to everyone (none of of whom had a supervisor and for whom everything was “impossible”) the magical door to the luggage office was at last opened, and I was reunited with our bags. The dragon lady in that office even apologized — in Russian to Galya — when she found out I was Canadian. I have no clue what difference that makes about anything, but it added a last comedy touch to the whole grisly proceedings.
Of course I completely missed the welcome banquet, but to celebrate our meagre victory we went to a Georgian restaurant, and I savoured that wonderful national cuisine on a patio on a warm Moscow night at two in the morning. Welcome to Russia, right? And a huge thanks to Galya, without whom everything really would have been “impossible.”
That’s me on the left and Robin on the right in this photo taken on Red Square. Behind us are the Lenin Mausoleum, and the Senate Tower and the Saviour Tower of the Kremlin. When we tried to enter the Armoury Museum we were told “the Kremlin is closed.” I thought that must be a practical joke, like the old Candid Camera bit where a fake cop puts up a barricade on a country road, and informs confused motorists who stop that “Vermont is closed today.” Unlike that gag, it turns out the Kremlin really was closed. Our Plan B was to see 19th century Russian art at the Tretyakov Gallery (which somehow managed to be open to visitors on a weekday!) and then to go on a boat cruise along the Moskva River to take in the cityscape.
Here I am in Moscow, Russia. People find it strange that I have been to Ukraine many times over the past 20 years but have never been to Russia. I have corrected that deficiency now. Unfortunately, my bags did not arrive with me. I’ll blame Air Canada for that, as the flight from Ottawa was substantially delayed due to mechanical failure, and the consequently shortened layover time at London Heathrow was evidently insufficient to get baggage transfered on to the connecting Aeroflot flight to Moscow. I’m a seasoned road warrior from work, though, so I know to roll with the punches. This is not the most welcoming of circumstances to start the trip, but I am happy to be here.
This is the route that the “Golden Eagle” train will follow. We depart Moscow on July 2, arriving in Ulaan Baatar on July 10, and making six stops along the way.
This is the luggage tag for the Trans-Siberian Express private train. I will be travelling across Russia, from Moscow to Irkutsk and Lake Baikal, and from there going into Mongolia to see the Naadam Festival in Ulaan Baatar. Accompanying me will be my brother Robin. We leave next week, and start things off on Canada’s Dominion Day in Moscow on July 1st. I hope to be able to keep a travel journal through this site, updated with pictures and notes as we go along. Stay tuned!
Hello world! I’m Michael MacKay … empire builder and public hero. No, that’s not me, but the character Robert Conway, played by Ronald Colman in the film “Lost Horizon.” I would indeed like to have written a book where I said (as supposedly did Conway): “There are moments in every man’s life when he glimpses the eternal.” You will find here something more modest, but perhaps interesting nonetheless.