"I have no knowledge of myself as I am, but merely as I appear to myself"

It's ironic, isn't it. As a tourist you are not allowed to enter the Russian Federation without a letter of invitation, henceforth to be called "LOI".

In other words, the Russian government has to extend an official invitation to anyone who wishes to visit its territory. Considering we are now in the year 2010 this procedure seemed to me more antiquated than the steering in any Lada car.

So, as I arrived at Gdansk bus station and went to find my bus to Kaliningrad I was ushered on board by a driver who's face was so stern and grim I got the impression all his muscles had given up the function to smile.

The ride to the border offered little noteworthy material, except the occasional sight of hopelessness that dotted the various towns and villages that we passed. In one town I managed to spy a couple of historic looking fort like buildings, however those were then quickly covered by your traditional communist blocks.
When, at the Polish border the customs officials came on board, everyone's passports were collected bar mine. I just got an unfriendly nod and was left alone.
It is not the first time that this, shall I call it "preferred treatment" has happened to me because of my passport. On a previous trip to Syria in 2008, I even got an army salut from the border official who stamped me out of the country. I was quite bedazzled as I stepped out into the dusty sun.

On the Russian side we were all asked to get out of the bus and pass through the little passport control booth on our left. As I scrambled to get my things together (mainly in fear that someone might jump on the bus and steal my precious belongings while I got my documents checked) I was last in line to appear before the lovely lady behind the window.
This is where LOI comes back into the game. Considering I went through quite some hassle to get this infamous LOI together with my visa I found it utmost peculiar that the lovely lady tossed it aside as I handed her my passport. LOI was a total waste of time it seemed to me.
What followed was an uncomfortable period of concern that something might not be in order with my papers as it took her 10 minutes to scan the passport/visa and return it to me. Occasionally I lifted my arms into a "sorry, I don't speak Russian" pose.
Finally, I was released and could enter the bizarre enclave of Kaliningrad Oblast, my first offical visit to Russia.

Shortly after we had left the border area, our bus got pulled over for apparent speeding on this human-less country road. AS we waited for our grim faced driver to re-embark the vehicle I popped outside for a "I am bored" cigarette and as I stood there gazing at the yellow cornfields that stretched as far as my vision would allow, the only sounds that pierced the silence was the occasional bird that flew by and a series of aweful Russian popsongs that blared out of the on-board speakers.

Once we could proceed we passed a relatively pretty part of the coast dotted with newly built country houses and the sun shining a deep yellow on the Baltic sea.
I was quite thirlled about this visit to Russia. I had been to the Ukraine before and obviously lived in Romania for 4 months last year but what would this strange island of Russian presence in the European Union have in store for me?

After arriving at Yushny Voksal, the Southern train station and getting my first Roubles out the cash machine, I rummaged through my bag to find the directions and address of my first Couchsurfing hosts for this trip, Ivan and Anastasia.
I intended to take a bus from the train-station to the Zoo but before I even got to the bus stop I already witnessed something that somehow didn't quite surprise me. A bunch of young Russians who were kicked out of an oncoming bus for drunk fighting.
WELCOME TO MOTHER RUSSIA I thought. Little did I know what day of the year I decided to vist this country. More on this shortly.

As the bus crept (the word is most fitting here) up Leninsky Prospekt we passed one of Kaliningrad's most famous landmarks, the rebuilt Koenigsberger Dom or Cathedral that was located on Kant island, the place where the great German philiosopher Immanuel Kant lay burried.
After arriving at the "zoopark" bus stop I got off the bus to find my hosts' apartment that was located on Prospekt Mira (Buppi, you'll love this).
The entrance was located at the back of the building at what looked like a loading bay for the downstairs supermarket. As I entered their flat to greet the two, my nose registered a strange stench, like plant product rotting somewhere in a corner. I decided not to make a remark and after laying down my bag I was promptly offered home made soup and something quite peculiar I had never even heard of. "Cedar nuts", as it turned out later was a specialty from Ivan's home region of Siberia. The nuts that grow inside a pine corn are best eaten after putting them in boiling water and then cracked open with one's teeth. It took me a while to figure out what they tasted like and after exclaiming: AHA! They taste like pine nuts! Ivan said: No.

Ivan then took me out for a walk since today was the official celebration of "Victory Day" i.e. the day that the whole of Russia celebrates victory over the Nazis and essentially gets another legitimate excuse to get drunk. All major streets were closed for normal traffic and the fireworks that were beginning to explode somewhere beyond my line of vision sounded more like exploding bombs and canons rather than fireworks. The streets were littered with empty bottles of vodka and beer and as we made our way down Leninsky Prospekt I witnessed an astounding collection of rat tails and mullets on the local guys. Was this some style from Moscow that had inexplicably escaped me?
Finally we came to a halt somewhere in the middle of the broad boulevard and watched the fireworks and listened to surrounding spectators going: OHHHH, AAAHHHH and ROSSIYA!!! ROSSIYA YAAAAAAA!!!

The next day we had breakfast together and Ivan explained to me on an enormous fold out map, where I should best go. I had downloaded the Russia section of some Lonely Planet guide for Europe and printed out the Kaliningrad part, hence I thought I was well prepared to explore what I hoped to be a communist re-incarnation of the former Koenigsberg. First stop however was a cafe on the groundfloor of the building that specialised in Croissants and other delicatessen. Feeling eager and strong after my caffe latte and almond/marzipan croissant I embarked on what was to become a tiresome and irritating day.

First I wandered back to Victory Square (the only main city square in Russia that was not renamed Lenin square after the revolution) that was the home to the newly built "Christ the saviour" Cathedral and it's little twin with their shiny golden domes. Ivan had told me the previous night that everything that covered this area + the opposite side of the road where now stood the Europa shopping mall was a large park until 6 years ago and the city's decision that more concrete would add a more tasty flavour to the already existing jungle of grey stone.
I retraced my steps from last night and followed down Leninsky prospekt to reach Kant island, which despite being an island was also an island of what remained of the former Prussian capital. Only having been rebuilt in the 1990's the church looked at me with a slightly grave expression, as if to say... God, what happened to all my friends?
Inside was a small museum dedicated almost entirely to Immanuel Kant and featuring a large painting of what Koenigsberg looked like in 1675.
I was however not allowed to enter the main hall of the church and was told so by an old babushka that sat on a lonely stool just behind the main door.
I exited the church and went to its back where Kant's tomb was located. It seemed very strange to me that this city must have looked completely different, had a completely different population, culture and language until only 65 years ago. I was stepping on a live version of what was effectively conquered territory turned sour.

Behind the island was a new development, commonly called "Fish Village" that one could reach by crossing the city's oldest bridge, the honey bridge, which to my big surprise had tons of padlocks attached to it. I tried to find out more about the meaning of this but didn't quite understand Ivan's explanation and was too embarrassed to go: Excuse me?
What was most depressing however was the stark contrast between the swish looking facade of the Heliopark Kaiserhof and the grim communist blocks just behind it. I think those were probably some of the worst I had ever seen.
I crossed the Jubilee bridge to rest at Kaliningrad's answer to Starbucks called "First Caffee" that next to Fashion TV also sported some hardcore trance music. Somehow I felt relaxed here.



Lateron I tried to find the first of 3 recommended restaurants that the Lonely Planet listed in its guide but were never to be found. Seriously, who writes these goddamn books?
After reaching the south train station where I intended to purchase my ticket to Vilnius the next day I was faced with my first "fail" for the day. Since I had not printed the whole Kalinigrad section of the guide and my 4 pages stopped in the middle of the "getting to and from" section describing train travel I had to discover that one needed one's passport to buy a ticket. Grrrr
I returned to the apartment (after a quick stop at the Cosmonaut monument and a delicious bite to eat at the Universal bistro inside the Scala cinema) to inform Ivan and Anastasia about my misfortune and Ivan promptly offered to accompany me to the station to help me get my ticket. In silence we rode the 15 min journey to Yushny Voksal and were swiftly attended by a sales clerk who kindly let me know that I had to pay almost 40 Euros because: "YOU ARE FOREIGNER". Thanks dear.

Later that afternoon I chillaxed once more at the more central branch of First Coffee and then embarked on my last quest for the day, namely a visit to the old neighbourhood of Maraunenhof that according to LP was home to some stunning old villas from the German past. On the way I passed a couple of Western clothing chain stores on ul Chernyakhovskogo whose windows began at about my eye level. Ridiculous? Yes, certainly.

The road leading past the Prud Verkhny lake and towards Maraunenhof sported another little surprise, one of the many fortresses from the German time, called Der Wrobel.
Sadly it housed a tacky cafe with plenty of kitsch decor rather than a museum of some sort.
It began to drizzle as I crossed into Maraunenhof and shielding my eyes from the annoying drops I began searching for those famous villas. Funnily enough, Maraunenhof is the German name that no-one uses anymore. When I asked Ivan how to get there I had to frantically point at my map for him to understand what the hell I was talking about.
I couldn't find any of those villas and started to wonder if the person who wrote this section of the LP had actually ever been here or whether I was being guided by a fraud. (this was also where fail restaurant find 2 occured).

I decided to take a different route back to the apartment of Ivan and Anastasia and stopped at a cafe called Don Chento where I ordered a Risotto a la milanese. The only reason why I could decipher what I was pointing at was because the names of all dishes were translated directly from Italian into Russian and reading the alphabet was about as far as it went with my Russian. 230 Euros for a 12 week Russian intensive course was money well spent...

Later as I returned to the apartment I explained to the two architects who had offered me to stay at their home that I was a little bit disappointed and I had somehow expected to see more of the old Koenigsberg. Ivan just shook his head and said: Not-thing is left, is pity.

The next day as I left to get my train I was left wondering, if the lonely planet describes Kaliningrad as "a fascinating, affluent city that's clearly going places" then I would really like to know what place that is because I probably don't want to go there.

Don't get me wrong, I think I was a little overwhelmed with all the soviet kitsch, sickles and hammers and slight impression of a mix of hopelessness and poverty that I saw during my short stay here that it might have tainted my experience of Kaliningrad. However, I took the fact that I saw maybe 10 tourists in total as an indication that something must be wrong. Maybe, removing the ridiculous visa and LOI requirement for tourists might be a good idea?

Vilnius on the other hand is meant to have all those charms of the old blended with a bit of communism and modernism that I find really interesting.

More to come soon...