Moscow, day 1

Just arrived at Moscow this morning on the sleeper train from St Peterburg, and my first knowledge of morning coming was a provodnistya (woman train attendant - for some reason all guards and general public transport workers are women) opening my carriage door and shouting in Russian, before a pot-bellied Russian man came in and shouted, 'Espanol! Espanol, are you Espanol?' They then promptly disappeared.

St Petersburg is a lot smaller city, and Moscow seems very daunting in comparison, as well as the activities we took part in at St P which are beginning to seem increasingly twee. In St Petersburg I spent two and a half hours admiring the preserved rooms of the Winter Palace; in Moscow, I spent fifteen minutes admiring a gun that fires shots into your mouth at the 'vodka museum', before being chased out by a woman who wanted extortionate amounts of money to show me a couple of interesting vodka bottles. The Russian guide I went round with today (Anastasia) helpfully informed me that I was born on the day the guillotine was invented, before directing me to a dodgy Muscovite suburb which housed a closed flea market.

The last couple of days in St P were spent taking midnight boat ride down the river (the sun sets at 12.30am, so half was in darkness...the Russian 'white nights' don't ever include a proper sunset), and on the recommendation of a St Petersburg inhabitant, I trekked down to the Palace Bridge afterwards for 'the opening of the bridges' at 1.30am. This basically becomes a nightly social event, and because there are no Russian laws governing drinking on the street, I sat with a couple of people from the mad Apple Hostel on the riverbank with a few beers and watched the show. The bridges ceremonially opening were overshadowed by a large group of loud Russians who demanded arm-wrestling from the one guy in our group. Although their English seemed limited to 'cheers!', they managed to also communicate: 'We are champions of arm-wrestling, and then we are champions of sex.'

Somewhat counterintuitively, the final night in St P was spent on a makeshift beach in the middle of the city because of the enormous heatwave. According to the news, you can in fact boil an egg on the street. I considered trying this, but now I'm in Moscow and the police tried to fine someone in the hostel 'for walking the wrong way down a street', so decided against it for now (maybe wait for Siberia.)

The night train to Moscow was pretty cushy by budget standards, boasting beds with real linen and an actual semblance of air conditioning. We arrived fairly trouble-free into Moscow at 9am, where I was bundled into the somewhat terrifying Moscow Metro - terrifying in the sheer volume of its 11 million strong crowd, as well as the socialist realism sculpted around benches that boast stained-glass backs, which are illuminated by enormous gold chandeliers.

The Godzilla Hostel is definitely a step up from the Apple in St Petersburg in that it has a sign, but a step down in that it appears to be situated in a dodgy suburb surrounded by sand (sand? Why?), high-rises, and lots of police intent on supplementing their income via tourist harrassment. The good news is that I scrubbed the regurgitated blini off my shoes with some industrial Belgian product and an old toothbrush. I will, after all, live to eat bacteria-ridden food (or at least reach it on foot) for another day.

Highlights of today:
Red Square (more like a cement hillock though?)
St Basil's Cathedral, and more importantly the 'wishing circle.' You throw your pennies into it and a man who clearly has enough money runs into it and steals it with a magnet. Good times in Russia.

Possible highlights of tonight:
A mixture of British, American, and Swedish guys at the Godzilla Hostel have assured me that I should accompany them to 'the real Coyote Ugly.' The hostel also has a copy of the gun I saw in the 'vodka museum', which I can only imagine could be put to positive use.

However, the main highlight so far is the old Japanese woman staying in the youth hostel. She is extremely young at heart.