Russian independence day, which celebrates Russia's indepdendence from the Soviet Union, is one of the sillier holidays I've ever heard of. Maybe the Russians think so too since, aside from closing some useful things like the post office internet cafe, they don't seem to celebrate it at all. I was hoping for music and parades and beer by the river, but all we got was another trip to the train station and a torrential downpour.
To enter the Ekaterinburg train station, you're supposed to walk through a metal detector; it's just inside the main entrance and comes with several police officers. Or, you can just go in through the exit, which is right next to the entrance. It has no metal detector and is in plain sight of the police. They don't care. We were just going to the train station to leave our bags for the day, but still that meant another line and some shoving. Joder. On the way out we saw a guy, either dead drunk or else just dead, face down on a dolly/wheelbarrow-type thing with his legs bent in very unnatural directions. A Russian train station is no place to pass out.
Ekaterinburg was named not for Catherine the Great but for Catherine I, wife of Peter the Great, who ruled briefly after Peter died. During communist times it was renamed Sverdlovsk after Igor Sverdlov, a crony of Lenin's who died during the 1918 flu epidemic. We learned from the Ekaterinburg City History Museum that other names considered were Revenge-burg and Mestigrad (City of Vengeance). Friggin' Soviets. The City History Museum also had an absurd hilarious exhibition about Soviet food, mostly reminiscing about how bad it was.
And now, we're headed back to the train station 'rest rooms,' which you can rent by the hour, to hopefully get a few hours of sleep before our train leaves at 6am. Wish us luck.
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