A Colorado State of Mind: Snowy Suzdal (Суздаль)

It was 30 hours of travel to Suzdal. We left Colorado in blizzard conditions and arrived in Russia to an even colder, driving snow. Two planes, three trains, and we had arrived in Vladimir. Our last leg was a taxi that would take us to Suzdal- 150 miles from Moscow, deep into the Russian countryside, deep into the Russian soul. Peering out of the frozen windows of our taxi, as the driver blared Russian pop music, I thought of a line from Martin Cruz's Gorky Park, "All nights should be so dark, all winters so warm, all headlights so dazzling..."

We left the comfort our taxi and after a disorientating trek in the dark through 3 foot snow drifts we had finally arrived at our room. After 30 hours without a bed, or the ability to lie flat (or use the bathroom without squatting... at certain times more cautiously than others), it felt great to arrive in our clean, warm, wooden room.

The gentle snow continued for our entire two night stay in Suzdal, as did the constant smell of burning birch wood (positively delightful!). To say it was tranquil or peaceful would be an understatement. The entire village seemed to be frozen in the past- countless, centuries old onion-dome cathedrals (some in ruin, some still functioning), patches of birch forests surrounded by ornate wooden houses, and a quiet solace I was quite certain we wouldn't experience in Moscow.

We were up early in the mornings, watching the clock and bad Russian TV, waiting for 8 am when we would bundle up and hike over to the dining building for a hot breakfast. After all, this was no ordinary continental hotel breakfast. First we would be greeted with a coat check, and then upon choosing a table in the elegant dining room, adorned with traditional embroidered curtains and lovely wood features, we would immediately be served plates of hot blinis with fruit, ricotta cheese fritters, egg soufflés, sliced meats and cheese, and delicious, rich yogurt (the only kind available outside of the US). The coffee was readily available and shockingly good. We would drag out our breakfast time as long as possible. Then it was on to the banya- a private Russian bathhouse cabin that we had booked for the late morning. Our banya consisted of a living room with a burning fireplace, stone bathroom, steam room with a cold plunge tub, and sauna. We spent the hour alternating between the hot steam and cold snow.

Refreshed and warmed, we began the long walk from our resort into the heart of the village. After a few wrong turns, and a couple of bathroom breaks behind snow drifts, we were exhausted. Our first stop would be for some warm tea and appetizers consisting of broiled mushrooms, blinis with red caviar, and an assortment of olives. Refueled, we spent the rest of the afternoon walking, mostly alone, in the relentless snow between onion-domed cathedrals and the town's Kremlin. This was the Russia I had dreamt up in my mind as a child- endless winters, fairy-tale villages, and quiet nothingness.