Winter Wonderland

Alicia Pyke visits Moscow and Saint Petersburg in December for an unforgettable white Christmas.

- Alicia Pyke

Having my photo taken with Santa is a tradition I’d long outgrown but then, I’d never expected to meet the jolly man in Moscow. “Privet, Santa,” I wave, delighted when he beckons me over. “Who’s Santa,” he jokes, “I’m Father Frost.” It’s a small difference, but embracing the Russian way of doing things is essential to celebrating a white Christmas here.

It’s a few days before the 25th and we’re at a European-style Christmas market alongside a Moscow boulevard full of speeding cars and sirens. Getting a feel for the city means following the crowds to Red Square. Here we find an outdoor ice-skating rink and stalls selling mulled wine. Between the twinkling lights of the GUM department store and the psychedelic domes of Saint Basil’s Cathedral, it’s like finding ourselves in the centre of a Christmas card with a twist: heady stuff, especially when we pass the Square’s more sombre landmark of Lenin’s tomb near vast walls housing the Kremlin.