A cool set of the ‘Russia!’ magazine, find it:
http://www.readrussia.com/fashion_story.htm

For ‘Russia!‘ magazine I send in a fragment of a travelstory to Solovki as a sample. Find it below. When they like it I’ll make a full story out of it. It is a shame that one can buy that beautiful magazine on Hawai, but not here in Moscow. Fingers crossed.

When the plane descends and the pilot informs the passengers about the approaching landing and weather conditions, he speaks with pity in his voice. “œWe envy the passengers that are visiting the city of Saint Petersburg, one of the most beautiful cities in Russia”. That is a sure fact, but our journey goes further north. Catch the Baltic breeze and romance away for a couple of hours in Saint Petersburg, but be on time for the 17:20 train to Murmansk, the largest inhabited city in the polar circle.

The girls that work in kiosks and supermarkets nearby the railway station easily pick out foreigners. Natasha tells: “œThey buy two bags full of food and have a freighted look in their eyes. Many are afraid of travelling by train over long journeys”. Russians delight, as they know the best is yet to come. A minute before departure an old man joins the compartment and offers a glass of vodka. The on-board mechanic and me accept the offer, the girl that sleeps upstairs excuses herself. The old man gets small glasses and without a single word spoken the three strangers share a glass.

After two hours the trains halts at a deserted station. Must Russians head out for a smoke, and load up on food that is sold by old ladies, they manoeuvre nervously along the crowds of people disembarking the train, many make a living like this. All food is home-cooked and in many cases as fresh and tasty as one can find. For deserts find cups of hand picked rasp- and blackberries. It is here, rather than in expensive Moscow restaurants, that one can find the real highlights of Russian cuisine.

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Your first awkward experience that makes you realise how far up north you actually are, occurs when you check the time on a moment you then still perceive as “˜mid-day”™. The clock however tells you that it”™s ten to twelve, about to be midnight. At this moment it could be 7 p.m. back home. Light is everywhere. About an hour later it gets a bit chilly, and I put on a pullover. After a stroll along the harbour I try to sleep. My efforts are little fruitful, morning has broken already.

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If you have time on your hands you can go back the same way; over water to the city of Kem, followed by a 24 hour train-journey back Moscow. Flying is the second and better option. The roaring sound that howls over the island twice a day is the twin-propellered connection to the mainland.