Us humans are all holy fools

The last time I visited Moscow, Russia celebrated their most important holiday by staging the first full scale military parade since the Soviet days. Just about three months later the country is involved in a serious military conflict, carefully planned to coincide with the Olympic Games in Beijing.

On 9 May 2008 the Red Square was closed off to the public in favour of this victory parade. So I never got the chance to visit the colourful cathedral of St Basil’s then. There are so many bad things in the world, the worst of which is probably war. Yet, there is also beauty – and what better place to find peace of mind than on holy ground.

St Basil’s cathedral was built during the mid-1500’s by Tsar Ivan the Terrible. It was erected in fulfilment of a vow that Ivan made to the Lord in gratitude for the military victory over the Kingdom of Kazan. It houses the relics of Basil the Holy Fool and Ivan Big Cap.

Close up the textures, colours and details are even more delightful than on pictures. It is certainly one of the most unique buildings I have encountered during my travels. On entering, the experience is magnified. An array of murals decorate the walls and ceiling. These are mostly lush floral splashes of burgundy, amber, turquoise and forest green, creating a warm and intimate atmosphere.

Narrow stairs lead up to the cupola where a small choir is singing hymns. Their music sound rich even without any background music, because of excellent acoustics. The intense concentration of paintings and colours inside this small chapel is arresting. Combined with the pure voices, it is enough to move even the young girl in front of me to tears.

As soon as I step outside I am reminded of the irony of it all. As a Christian cathedral St Basil's stand in honour God the Creator, whereas the military hardware that passed by here recently are probably the same ones that is now causing so much destruction in Georgia.

Why are prostitutes Russian?

“How much does it cost?” asks the stranger next to me in the aeroplane.

“I don’t know. I love my girlfriend,” says Dmitri, the young Russian man on my other side. The stranger loses interest.

Since the conversation turned to prostitutes, I thought I’d kill my curiosity: “Why are the whole world full of Russian strippers and prostitutes? Moscow is supposed to be a city of wealthy people. Are there really also people who are that poor that they have no other option? Or is it just that they get a kick out of sexual power?”

“Those girls are not really Russian,” answers Dmitri, “Russian people have enough money. The girls who work as prostitutes and strippers come from some of the other former Soviet States. These countries really are poor and maybe that really is their only way of surviving or providing for their families.”

I get the sense that he is protecting his own and immediately think of my own replies when asked about the crime in South Africa.

“South African people are good people,” I always say, “they have big hearts regardless of their race or skin colour. The people who commit crimes are the ones who come in from other African countries.”

Perhaps Dmitri and I are both wrong, but it’s only human to want to believe the best of your home.

Later I meet a traveller from Uzbekistan and ask her about Dmitri’s reply.

She says: “Of course it happens here too. Russia is a big country and there are parts of it that is very poor. Just like Uzbekistan. A lot of people come to Uzbekistan and promise young girls good jobs. Then, as soon as they arrive in the other country their passports get taken away and they are forced to work as prostitutes. The people in Uzbekistan are very conservative and unless a girl comes from a bad family she will never choose to work as a prostitute even if she is poor.”

The truth, as always, is elusive.

Love lessons from a Soviet war veteran

9 May is Russia's most important holiday. Everything closes down on this day to make time and headspace for honouring the war heroes of World War II.

On the eve of Victory Day, as it is called, I find myself standing in front of the Kremlin. The Red Square is inaccessible to the public today as preparations for the victory parade are under way. According to CNN, this is the first full scale military parade, complete with army hardware and war planes, to take place since the Soviet days.

Outside hundreds of wreaths and bouquets line the wall of the Kremlin. A symbolic flame is guarded by officials and war veterans walk around donning their ribbons and medals.

'I survived because I come from a village, not from the city,' says Alexander, who was 18 when he started driving army tankers for the Soviet Union, 'village people are stronger.'

We laugh.

'My tank was fired twice,' he continues, 'first time six months in hospital. Second time I couldn't hear or see for longer.'

Alexander seems thrilled to share his war stories with whoever would listen while his wife observes from a distance, in awe. She is a simply stunning elderly lady. Being here makes it clear why Russian women are the fantasy of men all over the world. They are indeed blessed with perfect proportions.

'This is my wife,' says Alexander, 'she is younger than me and didn't experience the war. She was just a little girl when it ended.'

The way he looks at her moves me deeply. She smiles a coy smile. Her wrinkles crinkle like lines in a painting. Her eyes shine like the golden domes of the Church of Christ the Saviour. This is a woman in love, no doubt about that.

In all my life I had never seen anything more beautiful: an elderly couple that look at each other with so much love and admiration. They are still excited to be with each other after a whole lifetime together.

Love and war. These two extremes. Perhaps experiencing the worst in life makes it more likely that one would appreciate the best. Maybe seeing first hand how fleeting life can be makes it impossible not to live with all one's heart.