NIZHNIY NOVGOROD

This weekend was, you may be surprised to learn, yet another holiday weekend. 'Consitution Day' no less, which is quite funny considering the recent elections.

Julia and I took a trip to Nizhniy Novgorod (literally, 'lower new town' and not to be confused with Novgorod in the North of Russia), about 8 hours east of Moscow - a third of the way to the Urals. It's Russia's third largest city with well over a million inhabitants, and yet still able to prompt responses of 'what? where?' whenever you tell anybody. It used to be called Gorky under the Soviets, as it was the birthplace of the writer Maxim Gorky. Interestingly, he wasn't in favour of the city being renamed in his honour. Didn't stop the Soviets doing it though.

My more attentive readers may remember that I had attempted to go to NN previously, but was prevented by the fact that the train station staff weren't aware that the city changed its name ten years ago. For my part, I wasn't aware that the city had been called Gorky. This misunderstanding made buying tickets rather difficult.

This time round, however, the process was much simpler. I queued up. I asked for tickets. I was told 'Gorky nyet!', with no explanation. Rather perturbed, I joined a different queue. A passing woman told me to queue in queue number 15 instead. I queued in that queue. There I was told to join a different queue in an entirely different train station in a different part of Moscow, even though I was at the train station from where the trains to Nizhniy, I mean Gorky, departed. I went to the other train station. I queued again. I managed to procure the tickets. Easy.

Nizhniy is actually a really well laid-out and easily navigable city, built either side of the river Oka where it feeds into the Volga. However, arriving at 5.30am in the pitch black after a night on the train, with no map, no hotel reservation and a temperature of -5, would be a challenge for the most intrepid traveller. Julia and I did the only sensible thing: caught a bus and got off when most of the other people did. That was how we found the imaginitively titled 'Hotel Oka', so renowned that not even Lonely Planet mentions it. But they seemed quite pleased to see two foreigners at 6 in the morning. At least, they weren't actively obstructive and gave us a hotel room.

A little about the city. It seems by far the most prosperous place I've been to in Russia, though not in an overtly western way. Perhaps because it is far enough away from the influence of Moscow. There is a proper centre, with the city's bars and clubs along a main drag leading up to the Kremlin and the administrative buildings. Bizarrely, the entire length of this street is strung with speakers; perhaps in Soviet times they were used for propaganda but now they are used to subdue the population with 24 hour Ricky Martin.

Personally, I was happy because the locals didn't seem to bat an eyelid at my heavily accented Russian; not once were we accosted by 'Hey! You is English, yes! I know English good!' People just chatted, in Russian. It was really nice. Plus - and this was a huge shock - everbody was incredible friendly and helpful. The lady who tried to explain to us how to use a pedestrian crossing was probably taking it a bit too far, but her heart was in the right place.

The city's Kremlin is something special, a gigantic fortress overlooking the meeting of the two rivers and with a restaurant built into its ancient stone walls. The inside of the Kremlin is dotted with old military hardware, including the top of a submarine, artillery guns and Soviet tanks.

The only other thing I'd like to mention is that we had had to buy first class tickets for the return journey because of availability. I can tell you that the only difference between Russian first class and Russian second class train travel - apart from costing a third more - is that you get a packed lunch. Not even including caviare. But hey, because it costs more, no other bugger travels first class and you're pretty much guaranteed to get a cabin (if not a carriage) to yourself.