Going to Russia in winter may not be a season everyone would choose. Renowned for its arctic temperatures and equally arctic attitude to visitors, initially it seems inhospitable. This, however, could not be further from reality. Forget all those horror stories of mafia-run taxis and tourists being driven off into the night never to return. It’s move likely a London motorbike courier will hit you on a zebra crossing.

I arrived at Moscow’s Sheremetevo airport to clear blue skies and a freezing -16Þ. I was picked up by a tourist rep and driven in his clapped-out Lada to my pre-arranged home. My ride consisted of a lesson in “essential Russian” — Votka — Vodka and periodically helping push-start his reluctant car.

The homestay family armed me with Metro maps, names of stations and the don’ts of Russia; don’t dabble on the blackmarket, you will lose either through fake or out-of-date notes or the shocking exchange rate. My personal one is, don’t stand in the way of the metro doors, they shut hard, quickly and only once. If caught, you’re there until the next station. How do I know? Don’t ask.

The metro is a supremely efficient and inexpensive way of getting about — a lot safer than the jam-packed buses and trams with their resident pick-pockets and bag-slitters. Each line has it’s own station name and a station with two lines will have two names. Also the names are frequently changed — confused yet?

The old women sitting in the glass boxes at the bottom of the escalators in the stations are fantastic. They are very helpful and loved to giggle at my mispronunciation. Young Russians are keen to practice their English on you and are happy to help in exchange for impromptu lessons. Write all information in cyrillic and the Latin letter equivalent to ease locals assisting you; ie they can read it and you can say it.

Red Square, the Kremlin and St Basils etc are all within walking distance of several of the central metro lines. Early morning is the best time to visit these places. No crowds and the big snow machines haven’t moved the night’s fall. To stand in Red Square and be the only visible person aside from the goose stepping soldiers is magic. The interior to St Basils can be viewed with some gentle and chocolatey persuasion. “Cadburys fruit and nut” seemed to be the flavour of the day.

Everywhere you go there are generally older women guarding the nation’s treasures. Do not, whatever you do, mess with these Babuskae. I saw the fate of two obnoxious American tourists — trust me, it got ugly.

When visiting the Kremlin make sure the armoury and Diamond vaults are open. These are worth the 8500 roubles or so it costs to get in. The investment of a few thousand more roubles for an English headset is invaluable.

The museums hold historical Russian treasures from Ivan the Terrible’s wooden throne to Catherine the Great’s wedding dress. Stick to the Kremlin footpaths or you’ll find yourself directed back with the sharp end of a gun by a whistle blowing soldier.
The devotion to the Orthodox Church is evident everywhere — from the massive jewel encrusted bibles in the armoury to the elderly folk who in -18Þ temperatures, pray all day in the little church by the entrance to Red Square Gum. On the Western side of Red Square is a massive purpose built building housing many western shops. Lots of window shopping happens here as the products are very expensive. There are even Oakland menswear plastic bags for £7. Gum does have a Bureau de Change with a good exchange rate. Watch out for the fartsovshchiky (blackmarketeers) at the gate.

By heading out west from the Kremlin wall entrance you’ll find yourself in an area populated with little cafe’s serving more than Borsht, shops with hidden bargains and Rosie O’Grady’s for something a little Irish.
East across the river you’ll find yourself in Gorky Park, home of more little cafe's and The Hard Rock Cafe. In winter, the ponds are used as ice skating rinks (anyone thinking of a certain movie?). A tour of the Metro Stations is a surprisingly enjoyable way to spend a couple of hours. The Marble Frescoes and Mosaics are fantastic, but remember the doors. Outside the stations, little markets sell everything from watches to frozen meat and vegies — the fresh meat and veg are kept in the cars so they don’t freeze.

Russia is a wonderful country summer or winter. My trip was in February-March and for me Russia is snow, Babuskas with wads of bread, hot potatoes rolled in herbs and bottles of vodka. I got all of that and so much more.
I left Moscow via the Trans-Manchurian Railway and headed over the Urals into the vastness of Siberia but that is another story.

At the back of a faded mansion on Kroptninskaya there’s a barbie with burgers sizzling away. Inside, over the makeshift bar, tins of Fosters and VB are exchanged for fistfuls of dollars. The atmosphere is intense as the chattering crowd winds down and tanks up. Welcome to the Australian Embassy, Moscow — the only place for ex-pats and visitors in the know — to kick off a Friday night on the town.

The fun finishes at 10pm, when you flag down a passing car. Every vehicle is a potential taxi in Moscow, with drivers usually willing to take you anywhere for dollars, roubles if you can persuade them, and occasionally for free.

For ravers, there’s Lisa’s, the disco in the stadium used for the 1980 Olympic Games, or Nightflight, where you can rub shoulders with Moscow Mafiosi and their molls. Gamblers should head for Jacko’s, the bar and casino in one of Stalin’s concrete skyscrapers.

If you’re lucky you’ll lose your stake at the roulette table. If not, you’ll spend the week trying to off-load a wallet full of rubles. I had taken the overnight train from St Petersburg, notorious for passengers being robbed in their sleep. Thanks to the matronly guard providing me with some plastic-coated wire to twist round the lock, I arrived without any of my luggage missing.

There can be few places in the world as awe inspiring as the cobbled centre of Red Square. The eye naturally gravitates to the crazy technicolour fantasy of St Basil’s, but just as impressive are the crenilated walls of the Kremlin and the ornate facade of the GUM department store.

Lenin’s Mausoleum is open to visitors each day before noon, although the pomp of a regularly changing guard has been dropped. Nonetheless, there was still a queue beside the shiny black and burgundy granite bunker housing the revolutionary leader’s embalmed body. Descending into the bomb-proof tomb, the line shuffled past the short, stocky, waxwork-like figure bathed in a surgical lemon glow. It was over very quickly, adding to the dream like quality of the experience — had I really just seen Lenin?

Svetlana, my petite, enthusiastic guide around the Kremlin had thought Lenin was a god when she was a child. Now she didn’t know what to believe and was certainly not ready to cast her lot in with those rediscovering the church. “It's just fashion,” she said as we watched the young and old praying inside the icon-festooned, jasper-floored Annunciation Cathedral.

This is just one of three cathedrals within the Kremlin’s walls — a fact at odds with the citadel’s image as the nerve centre of atheist communism. A legacy of that era is the incongruous Palace of Congresses, now used as a second stage for the Bolshoi. Thankfully, tucked away by the Trinity Gatetower, the steel and glass eyesore does little to upset the beauty of the Kremlin’s ensemble of churches, towers and gardens. Svetlana told us how the golden onion domes of the churches remained shiny. “Trained hawks are used to keep the pigeons away,” she explained. On cue, a stern looking soldier walked by with a hawk on his arm.

Russians have a talent for business. The streets are lined with plastic portacabins selling virtually everything you can’t buy in the regular shops. The local English language newspaper, the Moscow Times, publishes a regular column which tracks down consumer goodies at different portacabin locations.

Every weekend, Izmailova Park is the place to pick up a souvenir from the flotsam and jetsam of the Soviet past. At the huge flea market you can find matryoshka dolls, fur hats, flags, paintings, badges and other curios. It took a while to decide from the thousands of matryoshka dolls. The expertly painted designs included the latest politicians (Zhirinovsky in the style of Napoleon in one $100 set), the US Dreamteam, and your family, if you provided the photos and were prepared to wait.

After haggling with hard-nosed Muscovites at Izmailova, the tranquil precincts of the Novodevichi Convent are a welcome escape. For some of its past noble inhabitants, like the ex-wives of Ivan the Terrible, it was nothing short of a prison.

But a more beautiful jail I could not imagine as I wandered the gardens within its white turreted walls, a world away from the grime and everyday trials of Moscow life.