I am your father!

More images here. Liza and her boyfriend Andy are my hosts in Nizhny. Liza is 23 and speaks German, English and Chinese and is a vegetarian. She works as a translator and has lived in China. She tells me that although she doesn't remember anything about Soviet times, she has a recollection of the 1991 coup which emptied the shops for three months, During this time her familiy managed to stock up on large amounts of pasta which they bartered with their neighbours. Andy is jack of all trades, learned English playing computer games and has a Darth Vader tee shirt with "I am your father" written on it. Andy is going to a job interview for a managerial position but has no idea what the job is about. In Russia the role of manager is common and it could mean being the cleaning manager in charge of a broom and a mop. If you're ever in need of dreadlocks while in Nizhny Novgorod, Andy is the man for you.

The road after Nizhny gets worse and traffic is very heavy. Imagine pedalling up a steep hill. It's nearly 40 degrees celsius, the road is narrow, there's no hard shoulder, a Russian lorry situated at arm's length behind you is honking the horn endlessly and horseflies are hovering around your head. When this is over, you glide downhill but there are spoke-wrecking potholes and cracks on the asphalt for what resembles an eternity. Then there's another hill. Sometimes it appears as if the traffic has disappeared completely and one instant later, a cluster of lorries and cars materialises like the wrath of Ivan the Terrible.

The M-7 is one of the two main roads going east. I spend one night at a road-side motel on the M-7 motorway. This seems to be an important gathering point for lorries. These are the lorries that bring you the dental floss, the digital camera batteries, your Amazon purchases, the National Geographic, the Organic Muesli, the Barbies and the sunglasses. It may not be beautiful, but this is also our world.

While cycling on the road may be difficult at times, there are many things to compensate for the hardships, like the babushka who offers me two gherkins or the woman at the cafe who gives me a cheese sandwich and an apple.

The day I arrive in Kazan it's 40 degrees, the hottest temperature since 1917. Kazan is the capital of Tatarstan, conquered for Russia by the troops of Ivan the Terrible in the 16th century. Kazan is today a thriving oil-rich city where Tatar and Russian are official languages. Many Tatars are Muslims.

My Kazan host is Nuriya, a 46 year old Tatar ginecologist and art therapist. She has two daughters, one lives in South Carolina and the other in Cypruss. Nuriya introduces me to Parida, a teacher of English. Together we visit the National Museum of Tatarstan, where a Halal food fair is taking place. We go for a stroll in the old part of Kazan under the scorching sun and later we meet Timur, Parida's son. Timur is studying architecture in Florence, Italy. Parida and Timur are going to spend a few days at a friend's dacha along the Volga river. They invite me to come. We take a 'rocket' boat and in one hour we reach the village where the dacha is located. While on the boat we wave at passengers on other boats and they wave back at us. The dacha belongs to lovely Volodya and Marian. Volodya's neighbour Serguey invites us to a Russian banya, where I experience for the first time being whacked by a bunch of birch twigs. I find the experience very relaxing. Later we have a beer and we chit chat over a cup of tea (made with leaves from Sergey and his wife's Luvov's garden). When it gets dark we walk to a hill overlooking the Volga. From here to the other side, there's around 5 kms. Silence envelopes everything. The moon is full. On the way back to the dacha, we collect water from a spring. Timur and I sleep at Sergeui's house and I'm woken up by the roosters and the sound of flies buzzing around the window. In the morning we go for a swim in the Volga. In the afternoon, Volodya, Marian and I return to Kazan on the car.

Timur explains the mystery of the outrageously stunning Russian women: there are more girls than guys and competition is fierce. Timur tells me that western Europeans are very polite but always try to keep some distance with strangers, while Russians may appear rude but are genuine, generous and kind. When he's in Italy he misses Russia, when he's in Russia, he misses Italy.

I go back to the dentist and service the bicycle. During my final day in Kazan a TV crew comes to interview me and I later appear in the 7 and 10 o'clock news. Olga acts as my interpreter. Olga is a lovely girl originally from the Caucasus. She came to Kazan to live with her aunt who was sick. Her aunt died but she decided to stay. She's studying English language and philology and loves France and all things French.

I bid adieu to the M-7. From now on I will use smaller roads. Next destination: Perm in the Urals. Distance ridden so far: 860 kms.

Evening in Nizhny Novgorod

9 PM. The sun is high and so is the moon. Eternal flame for the fallen

soldiers. Lazy time in the Kremlin. The mighty Volga and strolling

Russians. Then the sunset.

Russia in images

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1st week in Russia

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On the 4th of June, I take the train from London to Hamburg. I spend one week in Hoheluft West with Mini and I finish off a couple of projects. On Friday 11th we go to Berlin for the weekend. When we arrive, summer is in full force, everyone is out celebrating the good weather and we think we have found paradise! We stay with Katrin. She's Mini's friend's Julia's mum from Kiel. Katrin is originally from Berlin. Her parents lived in Latin America and her sister was born in Quito. From Berlin, Katrin moved to Kiel and returned to her birth place after retirement. She's now 70. Katrin lives in a community where only women are allowed to be proprietors. A small flat is available for the tenant's guests. There's a shared garden, a shared activities and exhibition room, a shared roof, a green rooftop and a bike shed. This is what I call enlightened living. Katrin lives in Kreutzberg, an alternative neighbourhood of Berlin where there's a very bohemian atmosphere and an open air colourful Turkish market. Berlin is a laid back city: ground zero for organic food, tree lined clean streets and a heaven for cyclists. It seems to be a very human-centric Metropolis. We have a wonderful time, Katrin treats us like monarchs, we see live comedy on the streets (including an Elvis Presley impersonator eating raw onion and interacting with the public and a flying man) and the World Cup is all around us. Big flat screen TVs seem to be on almost every corner.

On Sunday the 13th, I board the Belin to Moscow train. It takes 27 hours but it feels like 27 minutes. I share a comparment with two Russians, one of them, Musa, 30 years-old, is an interesting character. He lives in Berlin, speaks French, English, Russian and Chechnian and wants to learn Italian and Spanish. 10 years ago, his family came to the conclusion there was no future in Chechnia and decided to send him to Europe. Normally the elder son would be the chosen one, but he was already living in Moscow. Since the youngest son's duty is to look after the parents, it was Musa's destiny to live in Europe. This would cost Musa's family 5,000 dollars. Musa is by profession a journalist and a boxer! but he now sells German cars in Russia. He travels to Moscow on the train, shows pictures of the car for sale to a potential buyer and if there's a deal, he gets the money and returns to Berlin. Next, he drives the car to Moscow. Musa wants to be rich, have a yacht and loves beautiful girls. According to him, Moscow is where the money is and the girls are beautiful and easy.

The Russian train from Berlin is very pleasant. Every car has an attendant who can set up your bed or make you a cup of tea. We arrive in Moscow on a beautiful summer evening. Taking the bike and the luggage on the underground system is a bit of an ordeal. After 30 minutes I reach Krashirskaya station, where I wait for my host Stanislav for one hour. While I wait, a number of people approach me to ask questions about my bicycle. My recumbent bicycle gets a lot of attention and is very conducive to social interactions.

Stanislav is 32 and lives with his five-year old son Timur in a studio-flat from Stalin's time. He makes dinner consisting of buckwheat, gerkhins, tomatoes and cheese. All three of us sleep in the same room, the only one. I sleep on the floor, Timur sleeps in a cradle and Stanislav in a double bed. Stanislav works in IT and Timur spends the day at the kindergarten. Little Timur would like to join the army when he grows up. I ask Stanislav about recycling and he replies that in Russia recycling is not popular today but in Soviet times one could trade 20kgs of newspaper for a book.

On Tuesday I explore Moscow on my own. My natural tendency is to wander but because I'm here for only day, I make sure that I visit the obligatory landmarks first and I see the Kremlin, Red Square and St. Basil's cathedral. After ticking my boxes, I ramble and I stumble upon a small and charming icon museum. Wandering in Moscow is not easy. Many streets are of gargantuan proportions and crossing is to be done via undergound passages. Street traffic is dense and fast and getting across the other side of the road may take 15 minutes or longer and you have to run.

Moscow has a fascination for all things luxury. There are exclusive brands and shops everywhere. SUVs abound and most vehicles sport tinted glasses. I notice something I have not seen anywhere else before: flocks of posh young girls clad in famous brands, high heels and all sexed up. Moscow is not a love at first sight kind of place.

Cycling out of Moscow eastbound is no joy ride either. It's raining all day long, traffic is heavy and the truck fumes are black and smelly. After 104 kms, I decide to spend the night in an pleasant, clean and comfortable roadside hotel in Pakrov. Whenever I stop somewhere people are very curious about the bicycle and they want to know where I come from and where I'm going. So far, everybody I've encountered has been very friendly and helpful.

95 kms after Pakrov, I arrive in Vladimir, a historical city of the Golden Ring. I meet my host Gena outside of the Golden Gate in the centre of Vladimir. Gena lives with his brother and his uncle in a tiny flat. He has a fish tank in the bedroom and the walls are covered with pictures of tigers and wolves and posters of Vladimir Vysotsky, a Russian singer song-writer. We sleep in the same bed.

Gena is a programmer at a local hospital and a self taught and self made 30 year old man. He doesn't believe in politics, thinks that politicians are corrupt and if he wants something, he does it himself. Gena loves nature and would love to live in the forest but he's not interested in ecology. He's married but recently separated after his wife ran off with another man. He was initially sad but he now realises it's for the best as he understands what qualities to look out for in his next wife. He wants a woman who enjoys spending time in the village. Gena shows me all the sights in Vladimir and invites to spend the day in Koloksha, the village where his grandmother lives, 20kms from Vladimir. In the village, Gena raises rabbits, which he sells for meat in Moscow, keeps chickens for eggs and grows all sorts of vegetables. Gena's babushka Raia makes dinner: fried battered courgettes with dill, mashed potatoes with smitlana and a tomato, green onion and cucumber salad. For Gena, a big fat sausage too. Everything except the sausage is grown in the village.

The following day, I resume my riding in direction to Nizhny Novgorod. Gena has given me a Spirit of the Forest necklace, which I hope will protect me against the heavy traffic. I ride along a dual carriageway in good condition and the hard shoulder is mostly ample but not always. It's getting hotter and the first mosquitos and horseflies appear, a small sample of what's to come later on in Siberia, no doubt. I spend the night in a shabby, dirty and run-down roadside truck hotel 40kms before Nizhny.

On Monday, my ride is short: only 42 kms. I want to spend one day in Nizhny Novgorod, to rest, do laundry, plan the rest of my trip and send some bulky items back home. I will meet my host Liza at 7 in the evening. As I have plenty of time available, I stop at cozy little forest by the side of the road to cook pasta for lunch. I see a man on a bicycle carrying big containers of water and ask him if there's a place to swim nearby. It's very hot and I wouldn't mind a quick splash. He tells me there's a river 8 kms away and he offers me a drink of water and invites me to his dacha 150 meters away. There I meet his wife, who offers me hand picked strawberries and keeps telling me to eat. I can't stop drinking water. The thermometer indicates 36 degress and decide to take Alexander's offer of a rain-water shower. Alexander and his ladyfriend spend the summer in the dacha and winter in the city of Derzynsk. When I leave, my kind hosts give me green onions (because I'm vegetarian), a 1.5l bottle of a water and a pocket knife as a present. I'm touched by their kindness.

Nizhny is a huge city by the Volga river and it takes me 2 hours to reach the centre, Gorky Square. I meet Liza on Pokrovskaya street, a pedestrianised street in the center of Nizhny Novgorod.

Cycled so far: 438 kms.