There is one image of Moscow that sticks in my mind — St. Basil's. It's that cathedral on Red Square with the delightfully screwy onion-shaped domes — I'm sure you have seen pictures of it. When I found out I would be passing through Moscow on my way to Uzbekistan, I decided to make a stop and see the place for myself. The day I arrived was cool but sunny with a dramatic cloud-filled sky — a perfect day for taking pictures. As soon as I checked in my hotel, I rushed over to see the cathedral.

      St. Basil's is at the far end of Red Square and I had a chance to study it as I walked over. Each of the domes is covered with a different pattern: some with ribs and others with something like scales — and each is painted a different color. It is sheer exuberance — an odd contrast to what I normally think of as the dour Russian character. Outside there were the usual trinket vendors and photographers — and a steady stream of tourist were entering and leaving.

      Inside St. Basil was a bit of a let down — it's a series of small, relatively plain chapels. They were dark and cold and nothing compared to the outside. But, what an outside: I found a good vantage point and stopped a passing tourist to take my picture with St. Basil in the background.

      That done, I headed off to find a bookstore I had heard about on the Internet. I wanted to buy a Russian world map and someone had directed me to a place nearby. I found it on a small street north of Red Square. Inside, the store was packed — this being back-to-school time I guess people were buying textbooks. I found a map with the help of a clerk who spoke a little English and then went to pay.

      There was a mass of people around the only register. I couldn't see any line and figured it was dog-eat-dog. Actually, I'm quite good at getting ahead in these line-less situations — I'm tall and thin and not at all shy. I simply headed for the counter. After doing a little "wiggling" I could see I was attracting a lot of attention — those behind me were grumbling about my success. I couldn't understand what they were saying, but I could see for sure that they were talking about me.

      So I turned around and asked stupidly, "Is there a line? I'm sorry, I didn't know there was a line." That worked like magic — from my English they knew I wasn't a Russian. All those around me gave me their "No, no, you go first," look. Now, I'll confess that I was exploiting my tourist status — what else is it good for? As I checked out I turned and said, "Thank you", and waived good bye. I was trying to soothe my conscience a little.

      Back on the street I went looking for a metro station. After walking for a few minutes I found a station and plunged underground.

      The Moscow metro was everything I had read it was: monumental stations and extensive service. The stations are also deep underground. There were long stairways and escalators down to the platform. I read the stations were designed to double as shelters from atomic attack.

      I took the metro to Gorky Park. There is an enormous statue of Lenin just outside the station. There are also a few smaller ones in the garden of a nearby art school. From there I could also see a monument to Peter the Great — he stands on the deck of a sailing ship which rises high above the river. The Russians sure know how to build monuments.

      In the early evening I went out for a beer. It was getting cool, but I choose a café that was on the porch of my hotel protected from the wind. As I sat there I noticed how many seriously drunk people there were around me. I was also surprised how young they were. I had seen kids I figured to be 15 or 16 buying beer at a store near my hotel. Earlier I had noticed a lot of drunken teenagers in Alexander Park, next to the Kremlin. Admittedly it was Saturday night, but it wasn't even dark yet.

      The next morning I took the metro to the Iznaylovo art market. By now I could make my way on the metro unaided. The system was quite extensive and very fast. Many of the stations are decorated with lovely mosaic or sculptures, but my overall image was one of people — lots of them. It was always crowded.

      The market sprawls over a large area in northeast Moscow. It's an interesting place to shop — I saw antiques and nesting Russian dolls, military uniforms and oil paintings. I browsed all the stands and finally bought a deck of playing cards that feature the Russian military: tanks, planes, missiles and soldiers on the face of each card.

      I spent several hours there and then took the metro back to the Kremlin. I bought a ticket and went inside for a look at the magnificent gold-domed churches. After the hustle-bustle of the streets, the Kremlin was an oasis of calm.

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