Wilkins Runway, Australian Antarctic Division, Antarctica

 Three of my five summmers in Antarctica were with Australia, and two of them at Wilkins Runway.  Pre departure training each year, was 3 month in Hobart and covered all things aviation that you could think of.  I enjoyed all that learning and aviation is definitely very interesting.  

Back then we had access to intra-email and a satellite phone for the odd phone call home now and then.  for supplies, doctor visits, a night or two here and there, wed go down to Casey station.  

Australias airbus and a Chinese helicopter

Wilkins Runway is one of the most remote airstrips in the world, sitting on the icy surface of Antarctica about 70 kilometres from Casey Station. It’s named after the Australian explorer Sir Hubert Wilkins and was built by the Australian Antarctic Division to give Australia a direct air link to the continent. Before it existed, people and cargo had to travel by ship, which could take weeks depending on the sea ice. Now, flights from Hobart to Wilkins take around four and a half hours, making it far easier to move scientists, supplies, and staff between Australia and the ice.

The runway sits on top of the Vanderford Glacier, roughly 700 metres above sea level. It isn’t made of tarmac but of compacted blue glacial ice, which shifts and moves slightly every year. Building something like this in such a place was a major challenge. Work began in the early 2000s and the runway officially opened in 2008. It stretches about 3.5 kilometres long and 100 metres wide, big enough for large aircraft like the Airbus A319 that Australia uses for Antarctic flights. Keeping the surface level and strong enough to handle a heavy plane on ice takes constant work.

Temperatures at Wilkins can drop below minus 30 degrees, and even a small rise above freezing can soften the surface too much for landings. Because of that, the runway is only open during the short summer season from November to February, when the ice is stable and visibility is good enough for flying. Weather conditions can change fast, so flights are often delayed or cancelled.

A small team lives at Wilkins through the season to look after the runway, equipment, and weather stations. They work long hours in cold winds, often in complete daylight, maintaining the surface with heavy machinery to make sure it’s safe. Living conditions are basic and isolated, with a small mess, sleeping quarters, and vehicles for transport. When the runway closes at the end of summer, it’s shut down completely until the next year.

Landing at Wilkins is a unique experience. From the air there’s nothing but endless white, and when the plane touches down, it’s on solid ice rather than a normal runway. The braking and speed control are carefully calculated because of the reduced friction. Once the engines stop, the silence and brightness are intense. The only movement is the wind and the distant line of vehicles waiting to take people back to Casey Station. It’s a strange mix of excitement and quiet, knowing how few people ever set foot there.

Wilkins Runway has strict environmental rules. Everything brought in, including fuel and waste, has to be carefully managed and taken out again. The ice surface itself is constantly monitored because it slowly moves with the glacier, sometimes several metres each year. Engineers have to resurvey and realign parts of the runway to keep it safe. There’s no sense of permanence here — the ice changes constantly, and the camp shifts with it.

The runway has made a huge difference to how Australia operates in Antarctica. It allows for quick transport of people and urgent medical evacuations, and it supports research projects that depend on short summer visits. For scientists studying climate, ice movement, and wildlife, that air access is essential.

Even with all the technology, Wilkins still feels like a frontier. The weather decides everything. It’s isolated, quiet, and demands a lot of patience. People who work there know how small they are compared to the scale of the continent. The ice moves beneath their feet, the winds come and go, and the work never really stops. Wilkins Runway might look like a strip of ice in the middle of nowhere, but it’s one of the most important connections between Australia and the frozen world to the south — a reminder that even in a place as harsh as Antarctica, people continue to adapt and find ways to live and work.

Doo-Town, Tasmania, Australila

First time in Tasmania, 2009, for pre deployment to Antarctica with Australia. Managed to do some sight seeing - introducing 'Doo Town' Doo Town, Tasmania.

On the Tasman Peninsula, about an hour and a half’s drive southeast of Hobart, there’s a little coastal settlement called Doo Town. It’s not big — in fact, it’s barely a town at all — more a small cluster of shacks overlooking Pirates Bay, near the entrance to the Tasman National Park. What makes Doo Town stand out isn’t its size or its shops (there aren’t any), but its sense of humour. Every house here has a name that ends with the word “Doo,” and together they form one of Tasmania’s quirkiest and most photographed communities.

Doo Town sits just outside the small village of Eaglehawk Neck, on the narrow isthmus that connects the Tasman Peninsula to the rest of Tasmania. From Hobart, you follow the Arthur Highway (A9) through Sorell, Dunalley, and past the turn-offs for Port Arthur. The drive takes about 90 minutes, and it’s one of those routes where the scenery keeps changing — farmland, forest, and coastline all in the mix. Once you reach Eaglehawk Neck, you pass the old Dog Line monument, where soldiers once stationed dogs to stop convicts escaping from Port Arthur, and then the road leads directly to Doo Town and the nearby Tasman Arch and Devil’s Kitchen rock formations.

The town itself is easy to miss if you’re not paying attention. There are only around 20 to 30 houses, depending on the season, and no shops or businesses. Most of the homes are holiday shacks, owned by Tasmanians who come down on weekends or during summer.

The story of Doo Town goes back to the 1930s. Before then, the area was just another small coastal shack community — one of many that popped up along Tasmania’s rugged southern and eastern coastlines. Local fisherman, tradesmen, and retirees built small, simple homes here for weekends and holidays.

The “Doo” theme started as a joke. In the early 1930s, a resident named Eric Round decided to name his shack “Doo I”, a simple pun that fit the easygoing character of the place. Another neighbour followed with “Doo Me”, and a third added “Doo Us.” From there, it caught on quickly. Soon, almost every shack in the area had some kind of “Doo” name, and the tradition stuck.

What began as local humour ended up becoming the identity of the whole settlement. Visitors would come through and laugh at the signs — “Gunadoo,” “Yankee Doodle Doo,” “Love Me Doo,” “Wee Doo,” “Howya Doo,” and “Hairy Doo.” Even today, people who build new homes there keep the tradition alive. There’s “Make Doo,” “Doo Little,” “Humpty Doo,” “Just Doo It,” “Doo Drop In,” “Doo Nothing,” and plenty more.

Today, Doo Town is officially classed as a locality rather than a township. The permanent population is tiny — roughly 20 to 40 people, depending on the season and who you ask. Most residents are part-time, and there’s no infrastructure beyond the houses themselves. No store, no pub, no post office. The nearest services are at Eaglehawk Neck, a five-minute drive away, where you’ll find accommodation, a petrol station, and a small convenience store.

Despite its size, Doo Town attracts thousands of visitors every year. Most come as part of a day trip from Hobart or Port Arthur, often combining it with the nearby natural sights. It’s a stop for a laugh and a photo, rather than a destination in itself, but that’s exactly the point — the place doesn’t try to be anything more than what it is.

While the town is small, the landscape around it is impressive. Pirates Bay stretches in a long curve of golden sand backed by forested hills. The Tasman Sea crashes against high dolerite cliffs to the south, and there are walking tracks leading to Tasman Arch, Devil’s Kitchen, and the Blowhole, all within a few minutes’ drive or a short walk.

The Tasman National Park is one of Tasmania’s most rugged and dramatic areas, with vertical cliffs, sea caves, and deep blue water. Doo Town sits right on its edge, so even though the settlement itself is tiny, it’s surrounded by some of the most photographed scenery on the island.

A few kilometres south lies Port Arthur Historic Site, the best-preserved convict settlement in Australia. This part of the peninsula is full of history — from the Dog Line at Eaglehawk Neck to the old coal mines, lookout points, and lighthouses. In that sense, Doo Town fits into a larger picture of Tasmanian life: a mix of isolation, humour, and resilience.

For all the attention it gets, Doo Town hasn’t turned itself into a tourist trap. The residents like their privacy and tend to treat the curiosity with good humour. Most visitors just park briefly on the roadside, take photos of the shack names, and move on.

Local authorities have leaned into the identity slightly — there’s a public barbecue area nearby officially called the “Doo-Lishus” food van (when it’s open), known for its fresh fish and chips and scallop pies. Otherwise, the area remains low-key. The lack of commercialisation is part of its charm. It’s still a community of holiday homes with character, not an attraction built for tourists

Doo Town represents something quite Tasmanian — that dry sense of humour and independence that shows up in a lot of rural communities here. It’s also an example of how small traditions can turn into cultural landmarks without anyone really planning it. Nobody set out to make Doo Town famous; it just happened because a handful of locals decided to have fun with something simple.

In a country full of big landscapes and famous cities, Doo Town stands out for the opposite reason — it’s small, local, and human. It’s the kind of place that doesn’t need marketing or reinvention. What you see is what you get.

Most visitors come by car as part of a loop from Hobart through Port Arthur, or as a stop while exploring the Tasman Peninsula. There’s plenty of parking, and it’s easy to walk around. There are no guided tours or entry fees; you just wander down the road and look at the house signs. The names are the main drawcard — and every visitor has their favourite.

It’s worth taking time to also explore the nearby lookout points. Tasman Arch, Devil’s Kitchen, and the Blowhole are only minutes away, each with walking tracks and viewing platforms. In clear weather, you can see out to the ocean cliffs and back over the peninsula.

Accommodation options are limited to nearby towns — Eaglehawk Neck, Taranna, or Port Arthur, all within 20 minutes.

Doo Town doesn’t take itself seriously, and that’s why people love it. It’s proof that personality matters more than size, and that humour can become a local identity. You don’t need to spend hours there, but it’s one of those spots that makes you smile and gives you a sense of what Tasmania is really about — a mix of wild coastlines, simple living, and communities that don’t mind poking fun at themselves.

For a place with fewer than 50 residents and no main street, Doo Town has left its mark on Tasmanian tourism. It’s on postcards, magnets, and guidebooks, and yet it still feels like a real, quiet settlement at the edge of the sea. The names on the shacks — “Doogese,” “Doo Rite,” “Doo Bee Doo,” “Doo Away” — are simple, but together they form a kind of folk art.

Doo Town isn’t the kind of place you “visit” for long — you stop, have a look, laugh, and move on — but it stays with you. It’s small, strange, and unmistakably Tasmanian.

Saint Petersburg, Russia

Still in 2002 - now Saint Petersburg, Russia. Stunning, amazing. Highlights for me were the Winter Palace / Hermitage - the amount of art in there is mind blowing and seeing so many famous works, one after the other, blew my mind.
The museum of curios - I mean it didnt gross me out but I can see why people would be grossed out
The white nights - i went for a walk along the banks of the river Neva one night and watched the bridges lifting to allow ships to travel the river
I did sit through a Swan Lake ballet, purely because I was in Russia!

Built by Peter the Great in 1703 on the marshlands of the Neva Delta, it was designed as a window to the West: an imperial capital of canals, palaces, and culture that rivaled the great cities of Europe. Today, Saint Petersburg remains an open-air museum — a place where pastel façades meet golden domes, where ballet, bridges, and art coexist under a northern sky that refuses to darken in summer.

No visit to Saint Petersburg is complete without standing beneath the chandeliers of the State Hermitage Museum, one of the world’s greatest art collections. Housed mainly in the Winter Palace, the former home of the Romanov tsars, it is both a palace and a temple of culture.

Founded by Catherine the Great in 1764, the Hermitage holds over three million pieces — Rembrandts and Rubens, da Vinci and Michelangelo, Impressionists and ancient treasures. Its endless galleries unfold through marble staircases and gilded halls so sumptuous that the building itself feels like a masterpiece. As you walk through rooms that once echoed with the life of the imperial court, art and history merge — each brushstroke a whisper of Russia’s past.

Just a short walk from the Hermitage rises one of the city’s most striking sights: the Church of the Savior on Spilled Blood. With its dazzling, multi-colored onion domes, intricate mosaics, and gilded crosses, it seems lifted straight from a fairy tale.

The church was built on the spot where Tsar Alexander II was assassinated in 1881 — hence its name, commemorating the “spilled blood” of the reformist tsar. Completed in 1907, the building stands as both a memorial and a masterpiece of late Russian Revival architecture, inspired by Moscow’s St Basil’s Cathedral yet entirely its own.

Inside, the walls shimmer with over 7,000 square meters of mosaics depicting biblical scenes, saints, and floral patterns — among the largest mosaic collections in the world. When sunlight filters through the arched windows, the colors seem to glow from within. Outside, reflected in the Griboedov Canal, its domes glitter like gemstones against the northern sky. The church embodies the soul of Saint Petersburg itself: tragic, beautiful, and resilient.

Before the Hermitage or the glittering cathedrals, Peter the Great founded something much stranger — the Kunstkamera, or Museum of Anthropology and Ethnography. Established in 1714, it was Russia’s first museum and a testament to the tsar’s relentless curiosity.

Peter collected oddities from across the world: scientific instruments, preserved animals, and even anatomical specimens meant to educate his people rather than frighten them. The result is one of the most unusual museums in Europe — eerie, fascinating, and deeply human. The turquoise-and-white façade facing the Neva River remains one of Saint Petersburg’s most recognizable sights, a symbol of the city’s thirst for knowledge and exploration.

Each summer, from late May to mid-July, Saint Petersburg enters its most magical season: the White Nights. Because of its high latitude, the sun barely sets, and the city bathes in a silvery twilight that lasts all night. Streets fill with musicians, lovers stroll the embankments at 2 a.m., and a sense of celebration fills the air.

During the White Nights Festival, concerts, fireworks, and open-air performances transform the city into one long festival of light. The atmosphere feels suspended between dream and day — soft, glowing, and unforgettable. To experience the White Nights is to see Saint Petersburg at its most alive, its spirit unbound by darkness.

The Neva River divides the city into a series of islands linked by majestic drawbridges. Every night in summer, around 1 a.m., the bridges lift to allow ships to pass — a ritual as old as the city itself. The most famous, the Palace Bridge, rises directly beside the Hermitage, its twin arms reflecting in the moonlit water.

Crowds gather along the embankments to watch the spectacle: the warning bells, the slow ascent of the roadways, the applause when the bridge stands tall and glowing in the light of dawn. It’s romantic, practical, and symbolic all at once — the heartbeat of a city forever tied to its rivers.

Few cultural experiences compare to watching Swan Lake performed at the Mariinsky Theatre, the cradle of Russian ballet. The Mariinsky has nurtured legends like Anna Pavlova, Rudolf Nureyev, and Mikhail Baryshnikov. Its gilded balconies and velvet curtains still carry the elegance of another era.

To ground yourself again in everyday life, there’s no better place than Nevsky Prospekt, the city’s grand boulevard. Stretching for nearly five kilometers, it’s lined with bookshops, palaces, cathedrals, and cafés where the scent of coffee mingles with the hum of conversation.

Nevsky Prospekt has always been Saint Petersburg’s stage — Dostoevsky’s characters walked here, Pushkin wrote here, and modern life continues to unfold on the same stones. A cup of strong Russian coffee or tea with lemon here feels like communion with the spirit of the city itself.

Saint Petersburg is a city of reflection — built by visionaries, scarred by revolution, and softened by beauty. Its contrasts define it: imperial opulence beside quiet decay, grandeur beside intimacy. The Hermitage dazzles with culture; the Church of the Savior on Spilled Blood mourns and glows in color; the bridges rise like wings in the night; and the ballet reminds you that art can transcend hardship.

For travelers, Saint Petersburg is not merely a destination but an experience of time itself — a place where the past breathes beside the present. 

The Catherine Palace, St Petersburg, Russia

 While in St Pete's, we did a side trip to the Catherine Palace.  Of course, its Russia so it didnt disappoint! 

Here's more about it - 

Just 25 kilometers south of St Petersburg lies one of Russia’s most dazzling treasures: the Catherine Palace, a spectacular baroque residence that once served as the summer home of the Russian tsars. Painted in striking shades of blue and white, adorned with gleaming gold statues, and set amid sprawling gardens and water features, the palace is one of the most impressive symbols of Russia’s imperial grandeur. Often associated with Catherine the Great, it was in fact named for Catherine I, the wife of Peter the Great, who first commissioned it in the early 18th century. Over the centuries, the palace evolved into one of the most ornate and luxurious residences in Europe, rivaling Versailles in its magnificence.

The story of the Catherine Palace begins with Catherine I of Russia, the widow of Peter the Great. In 1717 she commissioned a modest summer residence in the village of Tsarskoye Selo (now Pushkin). The original design was simple compared to what the palace would later become. After Catherine’s death, her daughter, Empress Elizabeth, inherited the estate and transformed it into the breathtaking Baroque masterpiece we see today.

It was under Elizabeth’s reign in the mid-18th century that the palace took on its dramatic grandeur. She commissioned the Italian architect Bartolomeo Rastrelli, famous for designing St Petersburg’s Winter Palace, to create a lavish residence that would impress both Russian courtiers and visiting European dignitaries. Rastrelli’s design included a 325-meter-long façade painted in turquoise-blue and white, decorated with gleaming golden ornaments, Atlantes (male statues) and caryatids (female figures), and elaborate gilded cupolas.

When completed in 1756, the palace was a vision of extravagance. It contained hundreds of rooms, lavishly decorated with gilded carvings, mirrors, silk wallpapers, and elaborate parquet floors. Its scale and luxury were meant to showcase Russia’s power and cultural refinement.

Although the palace was built under Empress Elizabeth, it is often associated with Catherine the Great, who ruled Russia from 1762 to 1796. Catherine favored a more restrained classical style, and during her reign, she commissioned several alterations to the palace’s interiors. She employed Scottish architect Charles Cameron to redesign certain rooms in the Neoclassical style, softening some of the Baroque extravagance with cleaner lines, elegant marble, and refined decoration.

Still, the palace retained its overall Baroque splendor, and Catherine continued to use it as a summer residence and a place for lavish entertainments. Under her rule, Tsarskoye Selo became a vibrant cultural and political hub, where philosophers, artists, and statesmen mingled amid glittering balls and banquets.

Perhaps the most famous feature of the Catherine Palace was the legendary Amber Room. Originally created in Prussia in the early 18th century, the Amber Room was presented as a gift to Peter the Great and later installed in the Catherine Palace by Rastrelli. The room was decorated entirely with panels of amber, gold leaf, and mirrors, creating a warm, glowing effect that dazzled visitors.

During World War II, the Amber Room was looted by the Nazis and transported to Königsberg (modern-day Kaliningrad). Its fate remains one of history’s great mysteries, as it disappeared during the final months of the war. Today, a painstakingly reconstructed Amber Room, completed in 2003, allows visitors to experience the magnificence of the original.

The palace is surrounded by the Catherine Park, a vast estate of landscaped gardens, canals, and decorative pavilions. The grounds combine formal, geometric designs typical of French gardens with the more natural, romantic style popular in the 18th and 19th centuries.

Among the highlights are the Great Pond, a large artificial lake reflecting the palace’s blue and gold façade, and the many statues and bridges that dot the grounds. Decorative pavilions such as the Hermitage, the Grotto, and the Turkish Bath showcase the eclectic tastes of Russia’s rulers, who sought to demonstrate cultural sophistication by drawing on architectural styles from across Europe and beyond.

In the summer, the gardens become a popular retreat for both tourists and locals, offering a serene setting in contrast to the bustle of St Petersburg.

The Catherine Palace, like many treasures of Russia, suffered greatly during World War II. When Nazi forces occupied Tsarskoye Selo in 1941, the palace was ransacked and deliberately destroyed. Its interiors were stripped, artworks looted, and parts of the building set ablaze. By the time Soviet forces recaptured the area in 1944, the once-glorious palace was little more than a burned-out shell.

The devastation was so severe that many believed the palace could never be restored. Yet, in the decades following the war, an enormous restoration effort began, led by skilled artisans, architects, and historians. Using surviving photographs, documents, and fragments, they gradually rebuilt the palace room by room. The restoration continues to this day, but many sections have already been returned to their former splendor, allowing visitors to glimpse the grandeur that once defined imperial Russia.

Today, the Catherine Palace is one of the most visited tourist attractions in Russia. Located in the town of Pushkin, it can be reached easily from St Petersburg by train, bus, or organized tours. The palace is open to the public, though access is often limited to guided tours due to the delicate nature of the interiors and the high volume of visitors.

Highlights for visitors include:

• The Great Hall, a vast ballroom lined with mirrors and gilded carvings, where light streams in from rows of windows, creating a dazzling effect.

• The Amber Room, painstakingly reconstructed to showcase its glowing amber panels.

• The series of state rooms, each decorated with silk walls, intricate parquet floors, and ornate ceilings.

• The Catherine Park, where visitors can stroll through gardens, cross elegant bridges, and enjoy views of the palace reflected in the Great Pond.

For many travelers, the experience of standing before the Catherine Palace, with its brilliant blue façade and gilded statues glistening in the sunlight, is unforgettable.

A Symbol of Russia’s Cultural Identity

The Catherine Palace is more than just a tourist attraction; it is a symbol of Russia’s resilience and cultural identity. It embodies the grandeur of the Russian Empire, the artistic achievements of its architects and craftsmen, and the determination of later generations to preserve their heritage despite the ravages of war.

For Russians, the palace represents a connection to a past filled with both glory and tragedy. For international visitors, it offers a window into the richness of Russian history, from the opulence of the tsars to the devastation of conflict and the triumph of restoration.

Conclusion

The Catherine Palace is a masterpiece of architecture, history, and art. Its shimmering blue and white façade, gilded statues, and vast gardens make it one of the most beautiful palaces in the world. Inside, treasures like the Amber Room and the Great Hall remind visitors of the opulence of the Russian court. Outside, the serene gardens provide a place for reflection.

Though scarred by war, the palace has been reborn through decades of painstaking restoration, standing today as a testament to resilience and cultural pride. For anyone visiting St Petersburg, a journey to the Catherine Palace is essential—a chance to walk through history, marvel at human artistry, and witness the enduring beauty of one of Russia’s greatest imperial landmarks.

The Cathedral of St. Catherine in Tsarskoye Selo

Standing in the shadow of the grand Catherine Palace, the Cathedral of St. Catherine the Great Martyr offers a very different kind of beauty: spiritual, serene, and steeped in Russian Orthodoxy. Located in the town of Pushkin (formerly Tsarskoye Selo), just outside St Petersburg, the cathedral complements the palace with its gleaming white walls and golden domes, symbolizing the close intertwining of imperial life and faith in Russia.

The original cathedral was constructed between 1835 and 1840 during the reign of Nicholas I, designed by architect Konstantin Thon, who also created the Cathedral of Christ the Savior in Moscow. Built in the Russo-Byzantine style, it stood proudly as the spiritual heart of Tsarskoye Selo, where both courtiers and townspeople gathered to worship. Its interior was richly decorated with icons, frescoes, and ornate iconostases, creating a sacred atmosphere in contrast to the dazzling secular grandeur of the palace next door.

Tragically, the cathedral did not survive the upheavals of the 20th century. In 1939, during the Soviet campaign against religion, the cathedral was demolished, leaving only memories and photographs of its former glory. For decades, the site stood empty.

In the early 21st century, however, the decision was made to rebuild the cathedral, honoring both its architectural heritage and its spiritual significance. Completed in 2010, the modern Cathedral of St. Catherine faithfully recreates the original design, complete with its five gilded domes and striking façade. Inside, new icons and frescoes once again fill the space with light and color, reviving its role as a center of worship and community.

Today, the cathedral stands alongside the Catherine Palace as a reminder that Tsarskoye Selo was not only a place of imperial power and luxury, but also of faith, resilience, and renewal.

Moscow, Russia

 Again, back to 2002 Im sure.. Trip to Russia! Finally! A dream come true!  Its been the only time Ive ever done an organised tour, and it was totally worth it to do so.  It was 2 weeks and went Saint Petersburg to Moscow and back to Saint Petersburg, with other stops on the way.  

Of course Moscow was thrilling - from the famous Gum shopping centre, to Red Square and even the metro stations - as beautiful as they are... amazing to see in real life.  And of course no trip to Moscow would be complete without seeing the Kremlin. 

The tea and samovar museum was kinda cool too! I saw the mothership of the & Sisters buildings, had a look at some shops and a good general wander around. 

Heres a bit more about all of those things and Moscow itself - 

The Kremlin

Moscow, Russia’s sprawling capital, is a city where history and modernity sit side by side in dramatic fashion. With a population of over 12 million, it is one of Europe’s largest and most influential cities, known for its cultural richness, political weight, and unique architecture. For travelers, Moscow offers both the grandeur of imperial monuments and the austere echoes of Soviet history. At its heart lie some of the most recognizable landmarks in the world: Red Square, the Kremlin, and the colorful domes of St Basil’s Cathedral. Beyond these icons, the city also reveals subtler charms, like its long traditions of tea drinking and ornate department stores.

Almost every journey to Moscow begins at Red Square, the vast cobbled expanse that has witnessed centuries of history. Originally a market square, it evolved into a stage for state ceremonies, military parades, and moments that defined the Soviet Union. Today, Red Square is surrounded by some of the most significant buildings in Moscow, each telling its own story of power, religion, commerce, and ideology.

The Kremlin

On one side looms the Kremlin, the fortified complex that remains the political center of Russia. On another, the soaring colors and twisting onion domes of St Basil’s Cathedral grab every visitor’s eye. Opposite the Kremlin sits the massive façade of GUM, the grand shopping arcade often mistaken for a palace, while at the square’s edge lies Lenin’s Mausoleum, stark and dark, housing the preserved body of the Soviet leader. Together, these landmarks make Red Square not just a place to see, but a place to feel—the weight of Russia’s past and present in a single view.

Few structures in the world are as instantly recognizable as St Basil’s Cathedral, officially known as the Cathedral of the Intercession of the Most Holy Theotokos on the Moat. Commissioned by Ivan the Terrible in the 16th century to commemorate the conquest of Kazan, the cathedral is a masterpiece of Russian architecture. Its nine chapels, each topped with a vividly painted dome, create a surreal, almost dreamlike vision.

Legends say that Ivan blinded the architect, Postnik Yakovlev, to ensure he could never design anything as beautiful again. While the truth of that tale is debated, there is no denying the cathedral’s power to captivate. Inside, visitors find a labyrinth of narrow corridors, small chapels, and frescoes in warm reds and golds. Unlike the soaring open spaces of Western cathedrals, St Basil’s charms through intimacy, detail, and the surprise of discovery.

Standing before it, one feels not only the artistry of medieval Russia but also the weight of centuries of faith and empire that shaped the country.

The Moscow Kremlin dominates the city both physically and symbolically. Surrounded by red-brick walls and watchtowers, this vast complex has served as the seat of Russian power since the late Middle Ages. Today, it remains the official residence of the president of Russia, while also functioning as a museum and UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Inside the Kremlin, visitors encounter an astonishing collection of buildings: golden-domed cathedrals, the Grand Kremlin Palace, and the Armory Chamber with its treasure trove of jewels, icons, and Fabergé eggs. Cathedral Square, with its cluster of white stone churches, evokes the Russia of tsars and patriarchs. The sense of history here is overwhelming—this is where rulers were crowned, where church bells rang out across the city, and where crucial decisions that shaped world history were made.

A walk along the Kremlin walls offers panoramic views of Moscow, while the interiors reveal both opulence and severity. It is at once a fortress, a palace, and a living symbol of Russian statehood.

Just steps from the Kremlin stands one of the most unusual attractions in Moscow: Lenin’s Mausoleum. Often referred to informally as Lenin’s “catacomb,” this granite and marble structure houses the embalmed body of Vladimir Lenin, the leader of the Bolshevik Revolution of 1917. Since his death in 1924, Lenin has lain in a glass sarcophagus, a figure of reverence for some and curiosity for others.

Visiting the mausoleum is a surreal experience. Strict silence is enforced as visitors shuffle past the body, preserved in eerie stillness. Once, millions of Soviet citizens came here to pay respects; today, it is more a place of historical fascination than veneration. Yet it remains one of the most distinctive reminders of the Soviet era and its cult of leadership.

St Basil's Cathedral

Directly opposite the Kremlin, the GUM department store (often mistaken for “Gym” due to its Cyrillic name) dominates Red Square with its vast, ornate façade. Built in the 19th century, GUM is as much an architectural wonder as a shopping destination. Its iron and glass roof arches high above three long galleries filled with boutiques, cafés, and fountains.

During Soviet times, GUM was one of the few places where ordinary citizens could purchase consumer goods, though long queues often snaked through the building. Today, it is home to luxury brands, but it remains a beloved space for Muscovites and tourists alike. Strolling its corridors is as much about admiring the design as it is about shopping.

In the winter months GUM is decorated with lights and festive displays. In contrast to the austere granite of Lenin’s Mausoleum nearby, GUM’s bright and airy interior feels almost celebratory—a reminder that Moscow is a city of contrasts.

Beyond the monumental landmarks, Moscow also preserves smaller cultural treasures such as the Tea and Samovar Museum. Tea drinking has been central to Russian life for centuries, and the samovar—an ornate metal urn used to heat water—has become a national symbol of hospitality.  Who knew there were so many samovar options availalble? 

The museum, located in a charming 19th-century merchant’s house, displays dozens of antique samovars, ranging from simple copper vessels to elaborately decorated pieces of art. Exhibits explain the evolution of tea culture in Russia, how caravans brought tea from China across Siberia, and how the ritual of gathering around the samovar became embedded in Russian family life.

For visitors, the museum offers not just history but also a sensory experience: the aroma of tea, the glint of polished metal, and sometimes the chance to taste a freshly brewed cup in the traditional style. It provides an intimate counterpoint to Moscow’s grander attractions, showing the everyday culture that sustained Russian life through turbulent centuries.

Exploring Moscow means moving between layers of history. One moment you are standing in the medieval wonder of St Basil’s, the next you are confronting the stark Soviet legacy of Lenin’s Mausoleum. The Kremlin’s cathedrals speak of tsars and empires, while GUM’s glass-roofed arcades suggest commerce and modern consumerism. Even the Tea and Samovar Museum, modest compared to Red Square’s giants, adds to this tapestry of experiences.

Red Square, Moscow

Moscow is not a city that reveals itself all at once. Its vast avenues, monumental Soviet architecture, glittering metro stations, and hidden courtyards require time to explore. Yet at its heart, around Red Square, the essence of Russia is distilled: faith and power, ideology and art, tradition and modernity.

For travelers, Moscow can be overwhelming in scale and complex in meaning. But it is precisely this blend of grandeur and humanity that makes the city unforgettable. Standing on Red Square, with St Basil’s vibrant domes before you, the Kremlin’s walls behind you, GUM glowing to the side, and Lenin’s tomb in shadow, you realize you are at the crossroads of centuries of history. 

Stutthof & Majdanek Death Camps, Poland

 On a road trip one summer in Poland with a good friend, we visited both Stutthof and Majdanek death camps.  Both still have a lot of remains there from the actual camp buildings, housing and chambers and even left over belongings of prisoners. Again, crazy slice from history left as is, and made into incredible, sombre museums. 

Majdanek, located on the outskirts of Lublin in eastern Poland, is one of the most chilling Holocaust sites still standing today. Unlike other camps that were largely destroyed by the Nazis in an attempt to hide their crimes, Majdanek was liberated almost intact by the Soviet Army in July 1944. Because of this, visitors today can see original barracks, guard towers, crematoria, and even personal belongings left behind by victims, making Majdanek one of the most hauntingly preserved reminders of Nazi atrocities.

History and Purpose
Majdanek was established in late 1941 as a prisoner-of-war camp, but soon it evolved into a concentration and extermination camp under Operation Reinhard, the Nazi plan to annihilate the Jews of occupied Poland. Over time, Majdanek became a multipurpose camp, housing political prisoners, Jews, Poles, and Soviet POWs.

It is estimated that around 150,000 people passed through Majdanek, of whom approximately 78,000 were murdered—59,000 of them Jews. Victims died through mass executions, disease, starvation, and gassing in chambers fueled by Zyklon B and carbon monoxide. In November 1943, the camp was the site of “Operation Harvest Festival” (Aktion Erntefest), the largest single-day massacre of Jews during the Holocaust, when over 18,000 prisoners were shot in trenches in a single day.

Preservation and Memory
Because the camp was not demolished before liberation, Majdanek offers one of the most authentic Holocaust sites in existence. Visitors can walk through wooden barracks once crammed with prisoners, see the gas chambers, and visit the crematoria. Perhaps the most shocking site is the mausoleum at the end of the camp, which contains a mound of human ashes collected after liberation, a stark testament to the industrial scale of murder.

Location and Visiting Today
Majdanek lies just 3 kilometers from the center of Lublin, making it one of the easiest Nazi camps to visit. The museum and memorial complex is free of charge and includes exhibitions of personal items, shoes, photographs, and testimonies. The site’s authenticity can be overwhelming, but it is one of the most important places of Holocaust remembrance in Europe.

Majdanek’s preservation means it speaks directly to visitors: the barbed wire, rows of watchtowers, and the ashes left behind demand reflection and remembrance. It is both a graveyard and a historical archive, ensuring that the victims’ suffering will never be forgotten.

Stutthof Death Camp: The First and the Last

Stutthof, located near the Baltic coast east of Gdańsk (formerly Danzig), was the first concentration camp established by the Nazis outside German borders and one of the last to be liberated. Its history reflects both the early expansion of Nazi persecution and the persistence of brutality until the very end of the war.

Origins and Expansion
Stutthof was opened on September 2, 1939, just one day after the German invasion of Poland. Initially, it was a small camp for Polish political prisoners, intellectuals, and resistance members. Over time, it expanded into a large concentration and extermination camp, complete with gas chambers and crematoria. Prisoners came from across Europe, including Jews deported from the Baltic states, Hungary, and other Nazi-occupied regions.

By 1942, Stutthof had become part of the wider network of Nazi camps and included dozens of subcamps. Prisoners were forced into slave labor for German industries, shipyards, and agriculture. Conditions were appalling: overcrowding, starvation, disease, and brutal punishments caused high death rates even outside of the organized mass killings.

Extermination and Suffering
Stutthof operated both as a concentration and extermination camp. In 1944, gas chambers were added to increase the killing capacity, and Zyklon B was introduced. It is estimated that around 110,000 people were imprisoned in Stutthof during the war, and about 65,000 perished there. Victims included Jews, Poles, Soviet POWs, and people from over 25 countries.

As the Red Army advanced in 1945, the Nazis evacuated the camp in brutal “death marches.” Thousands died along the way due to exposure, exhaustion, and executions. Stutthof was finally liberated by Soviet forces on May 9, 1945, making it one of the last camps to be freed.

Location and Visiting Today
The Stutthof Museum and Memorial now occupies the site, about 34 kilometers east of Gdańsk. Visitors can tour the preserved wooden barracks, guard towers, crematoria, and reconstructed gas chamber. Exhibits display personal belongings, documents, and photographs that illustrate the lives of prisoners. A striking monument commemorates the victims, standing as a reminder of the atrocities committed.

Stutthof is unique because of its timeline: it was both the first camp established in occupied Poland and one of the last to close. Its story demonstrates the continuity of Nazi persecution, from the earliest days of the war to its bitter end.

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Treblinka & Płazow Death Camps, Poland

 I was always interested in WWII, always. Iv been to 6 or 7 death camps in Poland and Europe.  Two in Poland that dont have many remains left, but serve as open air museums still are Treblinkan near the Poland and Ukraine border, and Płazow, on the outskirts of Krakow. 

Płazow only has a cross with barbed wire on it as the memorial, but you can sit in a cafe nearby and also see where Oscar Schindler's factory was located.  (See the movie Schindler's List if you haven't already)

Cafe near Schindler's factory, Krakow

Heres a bit about each camp: 

Located in the remote forests of eastern Poland, Treblinka was one of the most notorious Nazi death camps during World War II. 

Treblinka was established in 1941, initially as a labor camp. However, in 1942, under the framework of Operation Reinhard—the Nazi plan to exterminate Jews in occupied Poland—the site was expanded and converted into an extermination camp. Treblinka quickly became one of the deadliest facilities in Nazi-occupied Europe.

Between July 1942 and October 1943, it is estimated that around 870,000 people, mostly Jews deported from the Warsaw Ghetto and other parts of occupied Poland, were murdered there. Victims arrived by train, were told they were being resettled, and were quickly led to gas chambers disguised as showers. The killing process was ruthlessly efficient, designed to leave little trace of life or humanity.

In August 1943, a prisoner uprising broke out with inmates setting fire to buildings and attempting to escape. Though most were captured and executed, around 200 managed to survive, a rare act of resistance amid overwhelming brutality. After the revolt, the Nazis dismantled the camp, plowing over the land and planting trees to conceal the evidence.

Location
Treblinka is located about 80 kilometers northeast of Warsaw, near the small village of Treblinka in the Masovian region of Poland. Its secluded position in dense woodland was deliberately chosen by the Nazis to hide the atrocities. 

The Treblinka Museum and Memorial stands on the site, divided into two parts: Treblinka I, the former labor camp, and Treblinka II, the extermination camp. Very little of the original camp remains - a central monument, erected in 1964, represents a shattered stone tower, surrounded by 17,000 stones of varying sizes, each representing destroyed Jewish communities. At the museum, visitors can learn about the camp’s history, see personal items left behind, and study photographs and documents that shed light on the victims’ stories.

How to Get There
From Warsaw, Treblinka can be reached in several ways. By train, travelers can take a route toward Małkinia station, which lies about 12 kilometers from the memorial. From Małkinia, taxis or local transport can take you to the site. Alternatively, guided tours often provide direct transport from Warsaw. By car, the journey takes around 1.5 to 2 hours, following the route through Wyszków and Ostrów Mazowiecka.

Just a short distance from Kraków’s historic city center lies the site of Płaszów, a former Nazi concentration camp that serves as a stark reminder of the Holocaust. Today, the area is a vast open field with few remnants of its terrible past, but its story is forever tied to the destruction of Kraków’s Jewish community and the remarkable actions of Oskar Schindler, whose story became world-famous through the film Schindler’s List.

History of Płaszów
The camp was established in 1942 on the grounds of two Jewish cemeteries in the district of Płaszów, south of Kraków. Initially it functioned as a forced labor camp, where Jews from the nearby Kraków Ghetto and surrounding towns were deported. Following the liquidation of the Kraków Ghetto in March 1943, thousands of men, women, and children were sent directly to Płaszów.

Conditions in the camp were brutal. Prisoners were subjected to starvation, forced labor in quarries and workshops, and arbitrary executions. The camp’s notorious commandant, Amon Göth, became infamous for his sadism; survivors recounted how he would shoot prisoners at random from the balcony of his villa overlooking the camp.

Płazow Death Camp Memorial

By 1944, Płaszów had been converted into a formal concentration camp under the authority of the SS. Tens of thousands passed through its gates, with many sent on to extermination camps such as Auschwitz-Birkenau. Death within Płaszów itself was constant, whether through execution, disease, or overwork.

Oskar Schindler and the Legacy of Rescue
Amidst this cruelty, the story of Oskar Schindler shines as an extraordinary act of humanity. Schindler was a German industrialist who ran an enamelware factory in Kraków, later expanding to an armaments factory. Using his connections and bribes, he employed Jewish workers from Płaszów, shielding them from deportation and certain death.

When the Nazis began shutting down Płaszów in 1944, Schindler arranged for his workforce—over 1,000 men, women, and children—to be transferred to his new factory in Brünnlitz, in what is now the Czech Republic. There, they survived the war. His “Schindlerjuden” became symbols of resilience, and his actions were later immortalized in Thomas Keneally’s novel Schindler’s Ark and Steven Spielberg’s 1993 film Schindler’s List. Many scenes of the film were shot in Kraków and around the remains of Płaszów, cementing the camp’s place in global memory.

The site of the former camp lies about 5 kilometers south of Kraków’s Old Town, accessible by tram, bus, or taxi. Unlike Auschwitz or Majdanek, Płaszów has no preserved barracks or gas chambers. After the war, most of the camp structures were dismantled, and the area returned to open land. Today, the site is a quiet, grassy expanse punctuated by memorials.

Among these are a giant stone monument dedicated to the victims, erected in the 1960s, and smaller plaques that mark mass grave sites. Visitors often describe the place as eerily empty, its silence carrying a weight equal to preserved camps. Standing here, one can imagine the vast roll-calls, the suffering of prisoners, and the horrors carried out under Göth’s command.