Back in the USSR

Not really. I just borrowed the title from that old Beatles song. The USSR is history, split into a number of more or less democratic and independent republics. I'm in the north-west corner of the biggest one; Russia, the land of Putin.

Yesterday morning, I took a plane up to the Paris of the North. It was one of these big jet planes, a Boeing 7-Something. It was windy on the coast. Very windy. The first approach for landing was aborted right before we touched ground, because the pilots struggeled to control the plane in the wind.

In the second approach, the plane tilted again. Out of the window, I looked straight into the white-topped waves of the roaring sea. I don't know how, but in some way, the skilled pilots managed to level the plane right before landing. It was a very unpleasant flight, a real adrenaline booster.

The next flight to Murmansk was on a good old Antonov 24, a small propeller plane, a piece of Soviet technology from the 1960s. It's a robust plane, built for harsh conditions, simple and reliable technology, if they just keep up with the maintainance program. I hope they do.

It's amazing how these small propeller planes fly in bad weather, and it feels quite comfortable. The small planes kind of flow on the air like a little bee, moving with the wind bursts, rather than trying to oppose it.

The Antonov 24 has nylon curtains in the circular windows, and there is full Russian service on board. It means vodka. I don't drink that stuff; it's poison, and a tragedy for the Russian society. Vodka is the main reason why the avergage expected lifetime of Russian men is less than 60 years.

When I arrived in Murmansk, my driver picked me up in the airport and took me to the hotel. The road from the airport to the city makes a detour into the forests. They started out in the wrong direction when it was built.

Moscow is a modern metropol, but Murmansk is very much like it used to be in the Soviet days. Old buses and Red-Army vehicles (and some brand new Lexus'es and BMW's) are driving in the streets. Huge nuclear-powered ice breakers are anchored on the bay.

A few miles out the fjord is the town of Severomorsk, with the big navy base and shipyard. During the cold war, it was the headquarter of the Soviet Northern Fleet. It's still in operation, but the submarines are not as many as they used to be.

Murmansk was bombed to bits and pieces by the Germans during the 2nd World War, and then rebuilt in typical Soviet style architecture. The suburbs on the hills accommodate thousands of people in massive gray concrete blocks.

I'm back in the USSR >:)

(Pictures taken today and yesterday. The first picture shows central Murmansk, with the big cranes on the harbor and the fjord. In the upper right corner is the Alyosha statue, a 35m (110 feet) high concrete statue overlooking the city, a WW2 memorial built in the 1970s. The second picture is a close-up of the Antonov 24, parked on the snow-covered runway of the Murmansk airport last night.)

Christening of Christ

I've been somewhat reluctant to traveling to Russia recently. In Moscow there has been big protests against Putin, since the irregularities in the recent election. More than 100.000 people have gathered in demonstrations in the city center.

In Murmansk a nuclear-powered submarine caught fire in the shipyard. According to Russian authorities, the situation is fine, and no radioactive waste has leaked.

History has shown that when Russian authorities say everything is under control, there are reasons to be worried.

What would you choose? Anti-Putin demonstrations or a burning nuclear submarine? Where would you go? Moscow or Murmansk?

This week, my choice was easy: I take both.

According to our Moscow office, the situation is OK. There's no risk traveling to Russia, really.

My trip had a bad start. The airport in my hometown was closed due to fog, so I missed my subsequent flight with Aeroflot to Moscow. Fortunately, I got an alternative route, with Air Baltic to Riga, and connection to Moscow. I arrived in the hotel at midnight, some four hours delayed.

Yesterday was a exhausting. I was in a work meeting from 9am to 6pm. Then a driver took me through the Moscow traffic jam to the airport. I had a quick (so-called) dinner in the airport, before boarding the plane to Murmansk together with a Russian colleague. I'm completely dependent on help from a translator to get my job done.

Today is a popular Russian holiday, the epiphany. My Russian friends explained to me that they're celebrating the "Christening of Christ", when Jesus was baptized in the Jordan River. Maybe that's when he got the nickname Christ?

The celebration started last night, with mass in the churches, and hordes of Russians seeking frozen rivers and ponds. They cut a hole in the ice and jump into the water, three times, while saying magic and saving prayers.

Many people didn't show up at work today. I'm not sure if it was due to the dives in the cold water, or the following vodka.

Tonight I'm just relaxing in the hotel, reading and writing. Mission completed. There's nothing more i need to do.

Tomorrow I'm flying back home on an Antonov 24, an amazing old propeller plane from the Soviet times. This type of plane was built from 1960 to 1980. There are still more than 1000 of them flying. The plane feels pretty safe. It's shaking like Hell on start-up and take off. But at cruising speed, it's quite pleasant. It's a simple and robust aircraft, built for hostile conditions.

I've taken this route before, but only in summer time. Tomorrow will be another interesting experience; flying on an Antonov 24 across the white tundra >:)

(This trip, I've only been working and traveling, no opportunity to take pictures. Above is a picture I took last summer, onboard the Antonov 24. A nice stewardess was serving lunch, with all kinds of Russian drinks)

Flying on an Antonov An-24

I had a relaxing Saturday morning; my mission is completed, just waiting for the plane back home.

I’m flying out of Murmansk on an Antonov An-24.This classical Soviet propeller aircraft was constructed by the famous engineer Oleg Antonov in the 1950s. From 1960 to 1978, more than thousand AN-24s have been assembled in the factory in Ukraine, for both public transport and military purposes.

I was left alone in Murmansk last night, when my Russian colleague went back to Moscow. This morning, I put my suitcase in the storage room, and took for a walk outside. The streets were quiet and empty, just a few old Russian cars and buses passing by. It's very different from Moscow, with it's modern buildings and abundance of German luxury cars. Murmansk still gives a Soviet feel, except that the Marx and Lenin posters are replaced by commercials. It was a nice and sunny morning, and it's the middle of July. It's supposed to be summer, but still it was pretty chill outside. No more than 10-15 degrees (50-60 Fahrenheit), too cold with just a T-shirt and a thin jacket.

Coming back from my short walk, I found a coach in the lobby, and sat down to read and write, and to do some people watching, interesting as always. Two German women went up to the reception and asked for a map with the sights of the city. The receptionist was apparently surprised, and had nothing to offer. I was surprised too. There's not much of interest to see. It's the huge Alyosha statue, the cranes on the harbor, the former Soviet navy base in Severomorsk, and the midnight sun. People go fishing and hunting on the Kola Peninsula, but nobody go to Murmansk for vacation.

The driver picked me up outside the hotel at noon, to take me to the airport. I'm trying a different route this time, going straight west, across the border, and then continuing on a domestic flights. It's the shortest distance, but not necessarily the shortest time. It's not easy to find effective transportation between the remote places in the north, and Saturday is not a good day for traveling. There are not many flights to choose from.


The international departure on the Murmansk airport was like a small cupboard. They don't have many international flights, possibly only this one. Security, check-in and passport control was smooth and easy. There were no more than 10-15 passengers on the flight. I like the lazy atmosphere of the small airports in the north.

An old yellow truck was tanking the plane when we boarded, climbing a short and narrow ladder. The engines started to bark, propellers gaining speed, and we were ready for take of. The plane was as noisy as a punk band, and shaking like a hard-rock drill. But, what the Hell, it was cool to fly on an Antonov.


It was a two-hour flight, above endless forests and lakes in the east, and fjords between rugged snow-capped mountains in the west. Half-way the cute stewardess served a decent lunch, a salami sandwich with vodka and wine, but I stayed with tea and orange juice today.

Yesterday, when we had completed our business tasks, there was a celebration. We had some snacks and drinks in the general director’s office, whiskey with ice, Oran single malt. I don't like that stuff very much (prefer beer). Anyway, there were a lot of toasts, as usual, and they proposed a toast to my great braveness, because I was flying on the Antonov to get back home >:D

(That's our Antonov, ready for bording. Beautiful plane, isn't it? I took the picture at the top on the short walk across the runway. I shot a few pictures through the window of the plane as well. That tank-like thing in the upper part of the pitures is the engine.)