There is nothing more beautiful than strolling across Red Square on an early winter evening.
Calm reigns here amid the hundreds of cars that line the embankment and the surrounding streets at rush hour. Smart Mercedes-Benz limos sit cheek-by-jowl with battered Ladas in choking traffic, painstakingly crawling along the city’s busy roads that come to a near-standstill at this time of the day.
Furious drivers repeatedly honk their horns in anger, knowing full well their frustration will not help them get home any quicker. I wonder why most don’t use the underground, without a doubt the world’s most beautiful metro. It’s a walking museum with its marble interiors, bronze statues and intricate mosaics.
A layer of snow covers the ground and I hear my leather boots squeak and crunch as I walk. Ahead of me are the colorful domes of St Basil’s, the city’s most-photographed building. Its onion-domed cupolas are from a fairy-tale – they rise, beautifully, majestically, gracefully, into the sky.
Legend says Ivan The Terrible was so impressed with the building that he had the architect blinded so he would never copy it elsewhere. Snowflakes dance in front of the cathedral, swirling in the air.