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.