We went for a short walk in Vladikavkaz, where I took a few pics including the beautiful ceiling of the railway booking hall after going through security. A nearby building was turned from an art school into an aviation training centre during the 1941-1945 Great Patriotic War, and there were pictures of its most illustious fighter pilots on the outside. The end of the building had a mural marking the visit by V.I.Lenin to Vladikavkaz in 1920 after the Reds defeated the Whites in the Civil War.
The road sign situation in Russia is somewhat chaotic. You can’t find one when you need one then, when you know you are on the right road, they are every hundred metres. After a few false turns, we got out of Vladikavkaz and made for Beslan where 333 people were murdered in 2004. Southern Russia is a patchwork of Moslem autonomous republics; Vladikavkaz and Beslan are in Alania (which used to be called Severo-Ossetia) and we next made for Nazran in Ingushetiya.
Bojo Gosh Crikey Johnson will tell you that Russia is a dangerous country and the Moslem republics are the most dangeous part of it where everybody is a policeman or soldier and they will extort all your money before Putin gets you and sends you to a salt mine. Being the Foreign Secretary he must be right so with some trepidation we asked some tough looking policemen the way after getting lost at Beslan. They described the way and then said “English? Chelsea?” (practising their English with the only two words they know). “No Liverpool” said I, surmising that “York City” wouldn’t cut much ice. We then discussed the Liverpool vs Man City game which had been shown on Russian TV the previous night, and one said that Liverpool had been to Russia five years ago and he went to the game. With hearty handshakes they wished us dobro puteshyestvovat and we were on our way to Nazran.
Jennifer beat a man at an Ingush stall at the side of the road down from 1500 roubles for an Ingush sheepskin hat to 1,000 plus a pair of little Dagestani boots and, feeling hungry we went into this lorry drivers caff where Laima (in pic) made us some delicious soup with pasta, potato, tomato, cabbage, green pepper and chunks of beef, with a little dish of smetana sour cream. She and her little cafe were delightful..
From Ingushetiya we passed into Chechnya where two deadly wars were fought in 1996 and 1999. In recent years an enormous amount of reconstruction has taken place and the capital city Groznyi is now booming. It looks more like a Gulf state with ultra-modern buildings and high-rise apartments. The pic shows Russia’s biggest mosque. Traditional-style city gates have been built at the entrance to Chechen cities and the pic shows that at Argun with portraits of Putin and local leader Ramzan Kadyrov.
We passed several checkpoints manned by police and army but, seeing the foreign number plates, they waved us through. On the border between Chechnya and Dagestan I had to take our passports and vehicle documents into an office where, noticing that my name was “David Cameron”, my passport was passed round 10-12 people amid howls of raucous laughter. With huge smiles and handshakes we were sent on our way with everyone calling “Good luck” and “Good journey”.
Eventually we made it to Kizlyar in a torrential downpour and, on reaching the hotel, were greeted by a young man who spoke good English and was keen to get us into his ultra-posh “Steak House” in the same complex as the hotel. I had a T-bone steak which was tender and succulent and some perfectly-fried chips while Jennifer, as usual, chose an even better meal for half the price. All for £14. For £23 the hotel was very good: huge room, separate bathroom, excellent shower, although it was a struggle to get a kettle and we had to use our own coffee. As usual, the wash basin’s plug had been nicked.
