Brief update

I'm sorry to have neglected this blog lately - unfortunately my actual traveling has taken precedent over writing about it. I am now in Moscow, having been to Bulgaria and the Ukraine previously. Bulgaria was warm both literally and emotionally, and it was interesting to see how the country had developed since my last visit 5 years ago, but unfortunately that process has inevitably taken some of the charm out of the country. The streets overflow with expensive cars, and in the centre of Sofia posh European and American brands have replaced local shops.

I will write more about Kiev soon, as I think it warrants it's own separate post. For the moment I will just say that Kiev is a confusing and contradictory city, with much to recommend it.

Yesterday I arrived mid-morning in Moscow, and after getting a little lost in this most sprawling of cities, arrived tired and hot at my hostel mid afternoon. After a brief power-nap, I ventured out to explore the nearby sights, and walked through Red Square and the circumference of the Kremlin wall. As I strolled through the gardens, the heavens opened, and I retreated the the shelter of an archway, which I soon shared with a growing group of drenched tourists, and bizarrely two mounted policemen and their nervous grey horses. As the storm grew ever more fierce, we we treated to a spectacular lightning storm, and watched as the small babushka at the nearby ice-cream kiosk fought to keep herself and her parasols and tables from being swept away. The rain become a torrent, and fierce gusts of wind blew the downpour into our shelter, prompting shrieks from the huddled group. As the visibility reduced to feet, I was amazed to see the rain turn to hail, and then quite suddenly the storm broke, and one by one we emerged into the light.

A few minutes later as I crossed Red Square towards St Basils Cathedral, the rain briefly returned, and I sheltered in a Russian Orthodox church (no doubt famous) by the side of the square. Inside I stepped dripping into a scene that could have been 500 years old - a mass with the most haunting singing I have ever heard. As the rain recommencing its drumming rhythm outside, the alternating voices of the priest and congregation almost seems to be directed at the weather, and indeed as the mass reached a crescendo of singing and chanting, the bells of the church rang, and again the rain stopped. I returned to my hostel with a light step, looking forward to what else this overwhelming place might throw at me.