Suzdal

The VDV are the Russian equivalent of the SAS and I have been reliably told that they eat live frogs, break bottles with their heads and bricks with their bare hands. Thus I was understandably concerned when I mentioned this unit and Dimitry, the man sitting next to me, showed me the tattoo on his hand that marked him as one of them. The reason I had brought it up was after he showed me a video on his phone that showed army personnel effectively "Happy Slapping" someone they have stopped to search. It is incredibly brutal and knowing their reputation I asked if this was the infamous Special Forces. After seeing the unit and regimental number on his palm I decide to change the subject.

After a bus ride over some increasingly poor roads, and a short hop from the bus station in a friendly taxi, Ashleigh, an Australian who is taking a break from teaching English in Izhevsk, and I are in Suzdal. This is a tiny and picturesque town, about 200km from Moscow, and part of the Golden Ring around the capital that preserves some of the Russian medieval past. The small wooden buildings with wonderfully ornately decorated windows are certainly beautiful as are many of the incredible profusion of churches, more than 12 in a town who's main street runs for less than a kilometre.

One of the largest, inside the Kremlin's earth ramparts, is the blue domed Nativity of the Virgin Cathedral and nearby we eat lunch. The restaurant has also recently hosted Vladmir Vladmirovich himself, the former President Putin, as well as several famous cosmonauts who left their autographed pictures. Outside again we are confronted by what is currently Suzdal's oddest attraction. Firstly there is the wooden church of St Nicholas, who's old dark walls and roof are broken by patches of bright, yellow new wood from a recent restoration. However, also made from this new wood is a large group of what appear to be fair ground attractions, arranged in a circle around a central stage. There is a ferris wheel, swings and a massive sledging slope all made entirely of wood but more odd are what appear to be massive instruments of torture. One is a wheel that is covered in wooden stakes, another is a giant bed of the same stakes that can be winched open and then slammed shut. There is also a series of wheels with whip like branches attached, that can be spun quickly to flay bystanders and a few other vicious looking odds and ends, whose purpose I cannot readily discern. The whole arrangement seems like something along the lines of the Wickerman and to add further to the surreality many of the structures are covered in fake snow, despite the fact that there is plenty of the real stuff around.

Taking a small run up, I step on the log, over the collapsed jetty and into the river. Well, onto the river, as the ice is still almost a metre thick, at least according to Arcady. We had seen the four men ice fishing from the bridge above and I asked if I could go down to join them. A hole is made using a large two handed drill and then a baited line or a net is dipped down inside. After a short wait the net is pulled in and there is the first catch, small but a catch nonetheless. I take some photos and the fisherman want me to pose with fish and drill. I do so but unfortunetely they have a few difficulties with the camera and so when I look back through the photos I realise that my fishy smelling hand was all for naught.