From Russia with love

On 13 September 2009 I sit down to lunch in Uglich, near Moscow, with six twenty-something Muscovites, who have agreed to speak to me about their thoughts and feelings on climate change. They are clever, funny, politically aware and, well, cool. As is befitting of a society with so recent a history of state propaganda, they are suspicious of what the media has to offer.

Someone says they think climate change is a big problem for Russia but this is contentious and someone else thinks the country has more pressing issues. Another proposes it might improve the nation's situation, with better weather conditions. According to a recent report from the World Bank Russia has more to lose than most countries from climate change.

Tanya, Lola, Will, Fedya, Shev, Emma & Julia

I'm told that people care more about it in Western Europe and North America than here and that this is because these countries don't have real problems to worry about. One girl likens this to the story of her friend, who on her return to Russia after several years in the US, was shocked to discover a general lack of concern about cholesterol.

One of the group believes climate change to be a natural process, that the human role is exaggerated and we overestimate the significance of the time in which we now live. Another thinks it might be little more than a money making exercise, likening the green industry to the producers of flu vaccinations, whom she believes have exploited the current swine flu panic for profit. Bearing in mind that the richest companies are still those in the business of extracting oil and that most people who work in the environment sector do so for low wages or even for free, I'm not sure this accusation is fair.

Renewable energy is not a popular option here and someone espouses that frustratingly common myth that wind generators don't 'payback' the energy used to create them I can't help myself but interjecting to correct them. Nuclear is a significant energy source here and oil is cheap in Russia. They all tell me they think the oil will run out though.

Julia, Tanya, Fedya & Will

The group agree that weather patterns have noticeably changed in recent years and that this is a common topic of discussion amongst the people they know. They say there is no longer a need to wear the heavy winter clothes of previous years but that they do not know whether this is a long term trend or a short term blip, acknowledging the difference between climate and weather.

What I have not come across in this interview is general apathy, or the refutation that climate change is happening at all. This group leave me with the sense that climate change is more of a current issue in Russia than it might initally appear, as born out by their government's recent major u-turn in their policy. I have only just scratched the surface of Russian psychology but I can already see that it may be more difficult for my British brain to decode than I had bargained for.

Flying shame

Shortly before we left, a good friend of mine kindly gifted me a book by a gentleman named Jiddu Krishnamurti. In a beautiful twist of irony, he has a huge following, in spite of – or perhaps because of? – his core proposition that people should follow no-one. The book is called Freedom from the Known. I've been thinking about it a lot the last two weeks.

One of the most confusing things for the Russians we've met is just why we've caught the train all the way from London and will be catching trains all the way to and back from South East Asia. They, perhaps along with you, don't really understand the desire to ground ourselves permanently.

My first flight was at nine weeks old and my parents brought me up to believe that the world out there was for exploring. Words cannot convey how I agonised over the decision to give up flying. At the time I believed it would be a huge sacrifice to make and my life would be a frequent, if not constant, struggle to resist the temptation of taking to the skies.

However, with climate change already killing 300,000 people a year and the potential for millions to die and by the end of the century, it had to be the right thing to do. By using more finite resources than our fair share, I believe we are no less eating our children than the wretched creatures in Cormac McCarthy's dark post-apolcalyptic novel, The Road.

In fact, the moment the decision had been made, the torment vanished and I was left feeling liberated and less burdened than before. The opportunities that tend to open up once you have made even one small change in your life, made themselves plain almost immediately in this instance.

Part of this is certainly the human need for novelty – our brains crumble without it. Making one restriction on your life can often free you from many others, unknown until the decision has been made. Although we didn't know it at the time, Climate Stories is undoubtedly just one result of our decision to free ourselves from the known.

Live simply and trust one another

According to the charming Azerbaijani Namik (pictured - far right), who we interviewed on the train from Moscow to Kazan, Lenin once said: "Live more simply and see how people will come closer to you". It's a lovely phrase and one I'd like to think is true.

We've been in Russia for nearly a week now and have interviewed about ten people so far. We had prepared ourself for a certain amount of hostility to my climate change questions - or at least apathy - yet we have found anything but. There has been curiosity, thoughtfulness and debate. They also think that most other Russians don't think about the issue but this has not been my experience. Despite some protests to the contrary, everyone I've spoken to so far has had a well developed opinion and most of them have been concerned and taking practical action.

We have noticed something odd about the Russian nature. We are constantly warned by extraordinarily friendly people that their countrymen are not to be trusted. We suspect this is a result of years of being encouraged to inform on one another during Soviet times and perhaps a feeling that the country's worst recent turmoils have been wrought from within.

Whatever the cause We'd like to suggest that they should fear less. From the eight burly Russians (pictured above) on their way to their military school reunion who plied us with Cognac and compliments on the Moscow-Kazan train to the lovely Tartar Alina (pictured) in Kazan, who stopped to ask us if we needed help in an internet cafe and ended up giving us a free personal guided tour, we have been shown nothing but kindness. Perhaps this is because we have shed most of our belongings and are living more simply but we'd like to think that Russians deserve more credit than they give one another.

Small towns, big fun

So we arrived in Moscow and immediately left again. We were whisked out of the city on a road trip with the lovely Fedya and Tanya, with whom we are staying. Four of their wonderful friends came along too.

We visited lots of churches. Now before you start yawning, churches in Russia are a totally different kettle of fish from European ones. They look like delicious confectionary for a start. The ones in Sergiev Posad were particularly impressive.

We stayed in an awesome old Soviet hotel in Uglich, which has to be seen to be believed. We were warned not to park our cars outside because the people coming out of the disco in the same building might vandalise the car and we were lulled to sleep by the sound of techno. It was very cheap.



I spoke to the six yound Muscovites about climate change the following morning over breakfast. I'll write more about what they said later but in general the debate here is clearly far more advanced than I had been led to believe. I have been hugely encouraged by the conversations I've had so far.

I'm pleased to say that my first suspicions of Russia have been confirmed and I think we're going to have some good memories from this part of our trip.

The way to go

As our Polish train approaches Moscow, the scenery looks quite different from the rolling English countryside I wrote about in the last post. It's a lot flatter for a start. The buildings are commonly made of wood. I must admit, I'm a bit in love with Russia after only two hours.

It feels good to be here at last; a day later than planned. Less than twenty four hours into our trip and our first significant* blunder made itself known. As we were about to board our train for Moscow at Warsaw, we realised something odd: the train was to make a stop in Minsk, Belarus. We don't have visas for Belarus. In fact we had specifically chosen this particular train, on the advice of Seat 61, because it did not go through Belarus. The train had other ideas.

So we disembark at the Polish border town of Biala Podlaska. A kindly taxi driver shows us the embassy, followed by the bank where we need to pay for our visas the following morning, and then to a nearby hostel. The entire journey, he is telling us all sorts of useful information. Unfortunately he's telling us this in Polish and he doesn't seem to understand that we don't speak the language. In fact his response to our puzzled looks and shrugs is to talk louder and faster. For reference, if this happens to you, you shouldn't pay 50 Zlotys for a taxi from the station, 10 is more than enough.

It all worked out ok though and we got back on the train and even ended up in a better carriage. A big thank you to Marcin in Warsaw, whom I met at the Do Lectures last weekend. He helped us do battle with re-booking our reservation at the ticket counter.

Strangely enough, had we not made a complete pig's ear of it all, the section of our trip from London to Moscow would have been comparable in price and time to flying. Unless you fork out a small fortune to fly directly, you must stopover in Copenhagen. We've seen so much already and the trip has only just begun. Despite our best efforts to sabotage ourselves, or perhaps because of it, we're having a great time already.

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*I did also walk into the gentlemen's toilets in Brussels Midi, startling a small urinating boy. No (more) Manneken-pis jokes please!

In the beginning ...

It's strange to think that this will be the last time we'll see the green English countryside for six months. As it whizzes past the awesomely comfortable Eurostar train, I feel compelled to soak it up for the last time, in a while at least. I know I'll miss it but also that it'll be all the more beautiful for not having seen it for so long.

We're not expecting this project to be easy. Although, climate change rhetoric is very much a part of mainstream life now in the UK, there are other more urgent worries for the people of many other countries, despite their potential to be worse affected by it. We've been warned that nobody is concerned about the issue in Russia and would be surprised if anyone reading this hadn't heard the shocking statistics about coal-fired power stations in China.

There are however, many reasons to be optimistic. Traditional societies - many of which are still alive and well in the regions we will visit - tend to have a greater respect for their environment. Business schools in Russia are starting to invest in CSR programmes. China has the fastest growing renewables industry in the world. And who knows what we will find in South East Asia but I do know that the average carbon footprint is a fraction of a typical European or North American individual's, so I'm confident we have something to learn.

Will wants to try to take a picture at the exact moment we pass into the channel tunnel. He's been talking about this for a while. I'll let you know if he manages it.