From Russia, With Love — The End

And just like that, it is time to go home.

Somewhere between the first glimpse of Lake Baikal, endless hours on the Trans-Siberian, standing at the geographical divide between Europe and Asia, discovering that Yekaterinburg had considerably more history than I had expected, getting lost in Moscow, wandering through metro stations that turned out to be works of art, and finally being completely overwhelmed by St Petersburg, this stopped being just a holiday.

It became an adventure.

Russia is difficult to describe in a few words. It is enormous, complicated, beautiful, occasionally bewildering and full of contradictions. You can spend the morning looking at a lake so vast and ancient that it makes you feel very small, and the evening staring at a metro station wondering why somebody decided that *this* was an appropriate place to put a chandelier.

You can walk through places shaped by tsars, revolution, war and Soviet history and then turn a corner and find a ridiculously cute cat.

Which, obviously, happened to me rather frequently.

I came expecting the grand Russia of my imagination — Red Square, onion domes, the Kremlin, the Trans-Siberian, the Hermitage, the Romanovs, the Soviet Union.

I found all of that.

But I also found apple blossoms in Moscow, quiet monasteries, extraordinary museums, beautifully preserved railway stations, unexpected little corners of history, magnificent architecture, helpful people, spectacular art and a country that was far more varied than the caricature of Russia that exists in most people's heads.

Lake Baikal was breathtaking.

The Trans-Siberian was an experience in itself.

Yekaterinburg gave history a rather uncomfortable immediacy.

Moscow was grand, chaotic and full of surprises.

And St Petersburg was simply unfair.

There was the Hermitage, Catherine Palace, the Peter and Paul Fortress, the canals, the Church of the Spilled Blood, Fabergé, the Winter Palace... And so much I wanted to see, like the Peterhof palace, Mariinsky theatre, but didn't have the time.

And then there was the ballet.

Watching *Swan Lake* in St Petersburg, in that beautiful theatre, with Tchaikovsky being performed in the city where he belonged, was probably the moment when the whole trip suddenly came together.

History, music, art, architecture and a ridiculous amount of walking — all in one place.

And somewhere along the way I realised that the best part of travelling isn't necessarily seeing the famous things.

It's the little things you weren't expecting.

The woman you meet.

The strange conversation.

The completely unnecessary detour.

The statue you recognise from somewhere but can't quite place.

The metro station you initially couldn't understand why anyone would want to visit.

The statue of Mendeleev and the Original periodic table.

The moment you realise you've been walking for twenty minutes in the wrong direction because Google Maps has decided that Russia is none of its business.

The cat.

There is always the cat.

Would I go back?

Absolutely.

There is still far too much of Russia left to see.

And perhaps that's the best way to end a trip — not with the feeling that you've seen everything, but with the slightly dangerous thought that there is more.

For now, though, it's time to go home.

Back to my own bed. My own pillow. Familiar roads. Familiar food.

And, of course, the noisy cat that is most definitely **NOT my cat**, waiting to remind me at an ungodly hour that I have been away far too long.

It has been a long journey.

A very long journey.

A wonderful journey.

And one hell of a story.

Dasvidanya, Russia.

Thank you for the memories, the history, the scenery, the confusion, the cats and the occasional navigational crisis.

Until the next adventure...

**From Russia, with love.**