Into Russia (with parsnips)

In Dr Zhivago, Boris Pasternak (or 'Parsnip', in Russian) refers to the Russian custom that before a journey people sit down for a few moments for good luck. Waiting for the train in Helsinki station we sat on our backpacks and pondered what lay in store for us at the other end of the line in Moscow.

We were leaving Finland, with its endless trees and lakes, double windows and ladders on roofs, markets selling berries and peas and kids swigging strong cider in parks, and now heading east to travel the length of its enormous neighbour - Russia.

The Moscow sleeper passes through St Petersburg, tracing the footsteps of Vladimir Illich Ulanov, AKA Lenin, and like everyone’s favourite bearded revolutionary , I enter Russia with excitement mixed with no small measure of trepidation.

This is partly due to my last visit to Russia (a rather miserable affair: cold; wet; the street in which the ‘hotel’ stood was in the process of being demolished; the staff refused to believe we had a vacancy) but also perhaps thanks to the reputation which often precedes this enormous nation.

Ivan the Terrible…the Politburo…food queues…goose-stepping red guards in front of the Kremlin…nuclear Armageddon….the cold war…cabbage soup…

This is a fascinating time to visit Russia; have all these negative images finally been buried? Or does Russia’s new-found wealth (thanks to its enormous oil and gas reserves) pose new concerns to the rest of the world. A resurgent Russia, strong, powerful and keen to flex its muscles.

The mind boggles at how much change people must have seen over the last 15 years or so. Have they really managed to shake off the bad old ways of the past whilst not sacrificing the many wonderful and unique elements of their culture which enrich the rest of the world?

We wait to find out. In the meantime we have certainly noticed that we are entering a very different place from ‘the West’: the Cyrillic alphabet poses new language challenges to us (does this button set off the emergency alarm or flush the toilet?) and the guards’ hats just seem to get better the further east we head - you could eat a Sunday Roast off the top of them, complete with pasternaks.
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How to …build a sauna

The last time I entered Bruce’s sauna, the chimney collapsed, sending three naked fellows fleeing outside for cover. At the time I recall asking myself, as a shy and retiring Englishman, what I was doing (in my birthday suit) on the wrong side of the Arctic Circle, with two complete strangers, alternately steaming my skin to a crisp inside in a home-made sauna then freezing my proverbials off in the lake outside?

Four years later then, on our return to Bruce and Anna’s wonderful forest hideout near Rovaniemi, it seemed appropriate and indeed sensible, to perhaps try and construct a new sauna.

The Finns are fanatical about their saunas. It is more than a way of life: it runs right to the very core of their being. Every house has a sauna, every hotel offers a sauna, indeed even our hostel in Helsinki included a sauna in the price.

Soon after entering this extreme heat-mad country I began scanning for saunas in the corner of every building I entered and imagining the new opportunities they could provide. Libraries which might like to provide students with a nice hot break from their studies or supermarkets could offer tired shoppers a nice quick relieving sweat in between buying the weekly groceries…

But why should the Finns have all the fun? Saunas can be built anywhere, from Tromso to Truro. Just follow these instructions and you'll soon be on the way to a good steam and soak:

1. Find a site, preferably a nice, peaceful heavily-forested location next to a lake (the colder, the better).
2. Buy a sauna with log cabin to place it in. This being Scandinavia, you can easily find a ready-built kit. You just need a chum with a tractor to cart the lot to your site.
3. Get some more mates round to heave the heavy pine timbers into position.
4. Sit back and admire work, deciding you‘ll get the builders round to finish the job.

Add in endless swarms of massive, ill-mannered, blood-sucking mosquitoes, pour in lashings of warm lager and mix with an unusually hot day. Add in a liberal dash of an open attitude to group nudity and garnish with a Makkaraputki (‘sausage pipe’).

Serve it all up, before the ice on the lake starts to melt, at a birthday party for fellow scientists and climatologists (‘Antarctica’s nice this time of the year…’)

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A Scandinavian booze cruise

The beefy chap sitting next to me on the deck of the MS Isabella removed his trousers, revealing a tight black pair of briefs. He supped on his Carlsberg, drew on his cigar and slid back into his plastic chair next to his admiring family. Had I been so engrossed in my ipod I had missed a game of strip poker going on around me?

No; it was just another ferry trip across the Baltic.

At the first ray of sunshine the fellow had ripped off his t-shirt, exposing his expansive Viking chest but, it being Scandinavia, he didn’t stop there. I sunk into my fleece and pondered the stereotypes being confirmed around me on this 11 hour ride between Stockholm and the port of Turku, in southern Finland.

It was glorious weather; the sea was as flat as a pancake. A fine day for getting gloriously drunk on the duty free booze. Lapin Kulta for the gents, gin and tonic in a can for the ladies. And what better place to do it; complete with disco, casino and more slot machines a-plenty (plus of course the obligatory sauna) the Isabella was Las Vegas-on-sea.

To complement the beer-swilling muscle men there was a more than healthy contingent of goths, waif-like and pallid with multiple piercings, black-dyed hair and drab clothing promising various doom-laden futures. This was hardly surprising for a ship heading for Finland, but I couldn’t help noticing how normal their parents looked.

Regardless of how many lagers they’d swilled, no-one could fail to be impressed by the scenery: sliding out of the picture-perfect centre of Stockholm we passed between hundreds of forested islands lining the route to sea. As we left Sweden behind and entered the Baltic we soon reached Marie Hamn the tiny ‘capital’ of the Aland islands, a collection of hundreds of low-lying, rocky islands lying in the Baltic between Sweden and Finland.

An interesting quirk of international relations the islands autonomous status is a result of the shifting power struggles between Sweden, Finland and their great neighbour to the east, Russia - all of which have left their influence.

Whilst they are technically Finnish, their small population scattered across the archipelago are neither Swedish nor Finnish, speaking as they do various Swedish dialects , and having their own flag, local government and even stamps. Perhaps Wantage could learn a thing or two.

Back on deck, after several hours negotiating the narrow passages between the islands, the Isabella headed once more out to sea. The karaoke booming out from the disco was reaching execrable proportions. Mr Carlsberg wasn’t listening though - he had been thrown out of the bar and sat groaning at a bench outside; with his head in his hands his faithful son put a consoling arm around his shoulder. Hangovers are always worse at sea.

picture: MS Isabella leaving Stockhom

Typical passengers:
MS Isabelle: blonde wife, bearded husband, gaggle of flaxen-haired kids sunbathing
VR (Finnish railways, Turku harbour-Tampere): passengers laden down with duty-free booze, dragging their booty along corriders and stuffing it in every available space (including in prams)

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How to...get to Finland without flying

Nobody has checked my passport since leaving London last Friday. Now I'm in Stockholm.

Travelling through Europe is a breeze, with the invaluable help of the Man in Seat 61. Here's how I ended up in an internet cafe called Matrix surrounded by Swedes playing virtual role play games:
London to Brussels on the Eurostar, arriving in Brussels Midi station. Brussels Midi to Koeln Hbf (Cologne train station). Tickets can be half price if you buy on line in advance at http://www.b-rail.be/ (you have to register to use the site). You will not be given a ticket, only a booking reference number and collection code. Write these down and take them with you. When you get to Brussels go to the ticket collection machines near the 'Ing' meeting point. Type in the codes and your ticket pops out.

In Cologne I stayed at: http://www.hostel-cologne.de/. Ask for a quiet room (not on the station side) and not on floor 3 - it stinks! If you don't stay in Köln, the cathedral is right outside the train station. Directly in front. One minute away. And it's free to go in. So if you have time between trains you can just nip in. For a taste of the local brew, there is a good pub (Brauhaus Früh am Dom) nearby that serves the famous Kölsch.

To buy cheaper tickets in advance from Köln to Hamburg (or anywhere in Germany or to Copenhagen or Stockholm) go to http://www.bahn.de/ (you can change the language top right). Again, you'll have to register. You get an e-ticket to print out. Take this with you. When your ticket is checked on the train you'll also need to present the card you bought the tickets with.

To buy a ticket in advance from Copenhagen to Stockholm is tricky as you can only collect them from Copenhagen airport. So I just bought mine at Copenhagen station on arrival from Hamburg.

In Stockolm, stay at the Af Chapman hostel on the recently refurbished 1888 ship. It's not cheap, but definitely worth it. Book in advance to sleep on the boat.

Take the Viking Line ferry from Stockholm to Turku, Finland. There are two sailings each day. One in the day (going through the archipelago is beautiful) and one at night (be prepared to party). I'm on the 07:45 tomorrow. You can buy a ticket as a passenger when you turn up (€17.50).

European public transport is clean, spacious and punctual. I have watched the United Kingdom merge into central Europe and turn into Scandinavia. Travelling overland has been cathartic, creating the space between crazy London life and the trip of a lifetime.

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Parting is such sweet sorrow...

D-day dawns but only half the navy puts to sea: due to family commitments we have to make a staggered start and I'm staying behind in Blighty for another week. Therefore today I saw the lovely Lara off at St Pancras station, hanky in hand.

The size of her pack was only matched by the size of my hangover from the Camden EPICs awards ceremony the night before.

Anyway, have fun across Europe, Lara. See you in Finland!
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