A week and a half ago, our group took a weekend trip to Vladimir and Suzdal, two cities rich with history, both hugely important to early Russian culture. We departed Friday evening and rode the train almost three hours to Vladimir. I had really been looking forward to taking in the vast Russian countryside after three weeks of voluntary confinement in Moscow, but unfortunately it was dark the entire trip to Vladimir. I would have to wait a bit longer to see some wide open spaces.
The following morning, after arriving in Vladimir late at night and catching some shut-eye in a fairly cozy hostel, I rose early and went for a stroll with fellow students/friends Camille and Schuyler. It was a crisp, clear morning, and it immediately struck me just how quiet Vladimir was, especially compared to bustling Moscow. It was refreshing. Even with roads full of cars heading to various places of work, I felt much more at ease; and it isn’t that I haven’t been feeling at ease in Moscow. The marked difference in atmosphere between the two cities was simply so stark that I couldn’t help but feel and embrace the relatively laid-back, “small-town” vibe (Vladimir’s population is around 350,000, far from small in my experience [http://population.city/russia/vladimir/]). Perhaps this was in part painted by my specific background, having grown up in rural Minnesota, but at any rate, I was enjoying the brief reprieve.
As in Moscow, history was everywhere. Not ten minutes into our walk we came across the Golden Gate of Vladimir, constructed in the mid-12th century. It was difficult to grasp how incredible it is that this spectacular structure still stands in the middle of Vladimir, sandwiched between two roads, almost as if someone had just dropped it there. But, obviously, the Gate has been there much, much longer than the paved, modern thoroughfares. It even survived the Mongol invasion of Vladimir in 1237. Even this, an amazing artifact of Russian history, made me realize how relatively quiet Vladimir was. In Moscow, historic sites like St. Basil’s, the Kremlin, the Cathedral of Christ the Saviour, and many others are almost always swarming with people, Russians and foreign tourists alike. In contrast, Camille, Schuyler, and I had the Gate to ourselves. Granted, it was around eight in the morning, but it was a pleasant, sunny day, and people would already have been congregating around Moscow’s landmarks. In a word, it was nice.
Not only did we take in some fantastic history in relative isolation, but we also enjoyed outstanding views of the countryside for the first time. Thanks to our perch on a hill, we could literally see for miles. What we witnessed through the light haze was a mix of forest and plain, scattered with small bodies of water. My craving for nature had finally begun to be satisfied. Not to take away from the parks and green boulevards found throughout Moscow, but essentially everywhere you go in the city, you find yourself surrounded by steel and concrete, which can become pretty tiresome. In Vladimir, even just the knowledge that we were nestled in the countryside was a welcome realization, let alone seeing it with our own eyes. The next day in Bogolyubovo, this feeling was even stronger as I waded thigh-deep through ice cold water in an attempt to reach the Church of the Intercession on the Nerl, a picturesque little church situated on a minuscule island in the middle of a swampy plain. Luckily I was wearing shorts, so I untied and carried my shoes and traversed three or four similarly sized bodies of water before making it halfway across the final “pond”. I stopped and realized, much to my chagrin, that it was too deep and wide, and my legs were starting to feel a bit too cold. Experiencing a mix of emotions, from disappointment to satisfaction that I’d tried, I turned back, crossing the same ponds and attempting to dry off and warm my cold legs. Throughout the 30-minute ordeal, there was one feeling that wouldn’t go away: a sense of freedom, of adventure, and, I must say, it was invigorating.
I could go on and on and talk about our time in Suzdal as well, but I think I’ve emphasized sufficiently what the weekend around Vladimir meant to me. In every sense of the word, it was a getaway, one I needed more than I initially realized, and one that recharged me, preparing me to take on the big city once again.
