ER trip diary

Moscow, December 20th, 1922

We arrived in Moscow not yesterday, as expected, but today, since “our” train was delayed 24 hours at one of the smaller stations. Today, we finally were reunited with our uncle and aunt, the Neufelds.  They followed us from Kharkov, but arrived here three days before we did. Since it is almost impossible to find rooms, we will continue to live in this railroad car until we go on our journey to California.

Today, we had guests. They were young men, students from the University of Moscow. We managed to serve tea in our small quarters and the visitors were quite impressed with our temporary home. At the time of our departure, one of the guests remarked that the pleasant time at the tea table had been a bright hour in their usually dreary lives.

Wrote a long letter to sister Greta today. Tomorrow, we plan a long walk into the City, hoping to see as much as possible of Russia’s capital.

Moscow, December 21st, 1922

It is late. Margaret, Mrs. K. and I spent the day sight-seeing and returned tired but happy. Since I am inexperienced not only in sightseeing, but also in telling about it, I will not be able to give a clear and complete picture of all we saw and heard. We had to be on guard all the time. Around us was the danger of being hit by automobiles, streetcars and sleighs. At the same time, icy slippery sidewalks needed our attention, lest we fall. Of course, we also wanted to see as much as possible and everything seemed interesting, especially to us coming from the country. At times, when the noise of the automobile horns and streetcar bells seem to come from every direction, one might well get shaky.

We marveled at the height of some of the six-story buildings and admired the imposing interiors of Moscow’s large department store. This city is famous for its churches and we often saw some on both sides of the street. Surrounded by wrought iron fences in the midst of snow-covered walls, the onion-shaped spires glistening in the sun, they present a beautiful sight. These churches were built at different periods and some are not so old that they are not being used. The streets run at odd angles and it would be easy to lose one’s way. We were lucky to have as our guide Mrs. K., who had been living in Moscow for a number of years. The buildings often present picturesque groupings next to imposing newer buildings. I often saw older dwellings proudly displaying their venerable age.

Wishing to mail some letters, we headed for the main post office. It is a magnificent building, a ceiling of skylights provides light for the large lobby. All along the walls are galleries and doors, leading to the many departments of the post office. In the center behind glass walls, a number of employees sit at black desks. Since I had time on my hands, I watched and admired three women as they efficiently and speedily dispatched their work.

As I stepped outside, dusk had fallen, the lights were on and I admired the beauty of the snow-covered scenery. Coming around a corner and unexpectedly facing a wide plaza, surrounded by brightly illuminated buildings, we felt ourselves transported into a land of magic. We saw the high ancient wall, which surrounds the so-called “ChinaTown” and through a deep archway entered this old, interesting part of the city. Here, along covered passages various merchants displayed and sold their diversified products.

A visit to one of the largest department stores, where everything that a person might want or need was available, concluded our sightseeing. Browsing around, we ascended gallery after gallery, where goods were sold and from each level one had a magnificent view of the brilliantly illuminated center of the building.

Now it was dark and we decided to return “home” by streetcar. Though the car was crowded, I was lucky to get a seat near the open door, and this gave me a chance to observe street life as we rolled by. In spite of the many goods displayed in the stores, the streets are full of peddlers. One might call out the goodness of his sausages, another sells meat-filled dumplings, and a third cigarettes. On one corner, an old woman measures out cupfuls of sunflower seeds, a much-liked national treat, on another a child is trying to sell knitted mittens. Displays of white lilac and chrysanthemums in the flower shops were a beautiful, almost unbelievable sight now in the midst of winter. Most people are well dressed, the ladies look very smart in felt hats, short skirts and high felt boots.

Getting off the streetcar and walking now toward “our” boxcar, we met Uncle Aron and continued together. “Our” boxcar is standing on sidetracks between many other cars and somehow we got lost in the maze, since it was quite dark here and each probably expected the other to know the way. We ran back and forth, stumbled over snow piles, clambering over and between boxcars and being yelled at by the guard. Finally, we reached our destination and soon all the sightseers were reunited again. After tea, I flopped down to rest awhile, exhausted from walking and sightseeing I could hardly keep on my feet, but had to be able to stay awake later in the night to tend the fire. Now everybody is sleeping soundly, while Margaret and I have been writing in our diaries.

Sjilupe (First station outside of Russia)

December 29, 1922

A week has passed since I wrote in my diary. We were told that my diaries would be confiscated at the border and lost enthusiasm and desire to spend any time and effort on ours. Now the customs inspection has passed and we were allowed to keep our notebooks. Will try to catch up on past events.

Friday, December 22nd, Margaret, Dietrich, Hans and I took another long stroll into the city. We walked to the Kremlin and saw the old church of St. Basil, built during the reign of John the Terrible, centuries ago. To our regret, the law forbids sightseeing in the Kremlin. High levees along the River Moskwa proved good walkways. As the days were short, lights went on early and we marveled again at the beauty of the snow-covered, sparkling scenery before our eyes. But it was time to go “home” and we were glad to ride the streetcar and arrive at our destination without delay, tired but happy.

A severe and unexpected scolding was our welcome. Additional photographs were needed for our visas and we had delayed the continuation of our journey by several days by not being there to have the pictures taken. We spent the evening rather disillusioned and dejected, though the four of us were not the only ones who had been absent. The next morning, the pictures were taken and we stayed the rest of the day in the boxcar, not taking any chances to cause more trouble.

Sunday, the following day, the whole group attended services at a Lutheran church not far away and afterward worshiped for a little while in a Russian church. The services made a big impression on me, especially in the Russian church, where the light of many candles and the singing of the choir added much to the worshipful atmosphere. 

Sunday afternoon was the last time we were all together. That evening, my two older brothers took the train back to South Russia. We all saw them off at the main station. Not knowing if and when we would see them again, the farewells were sad. Since they are traveling by regular passenger train, we trust they will have a good and speedy trip.

On Monday. Margaret and the younger brothers Frank and Arthur tried to visit some museums and the art gallery, but arrived there after closing hours. Should we receive our necessary papers on Tuesday and Wednesday, as we had been promised, we would be able to leave Wednesday evening. Hoping for the best, we broke up housekeeping in this boxcar, which had been our home for three weeks. It had proved a much better accommodation than we could have found in the city. The stoves, boards, odds-and-sods of furniture and dishes were sold for a pittance. We rolled up the bedding, packed our belongings and on two large sleighs drove to the Windauer Railroad Station, happy to relax in the spacious, comfortable waiting room.

Uncle Aron and Uncle Will left again, hoping to finally get our visas at the Latvian Embassy, while the rest of us enjoyed a hot meal, sitting around a long table and fully appreciating the luxury of being served and not having to wash the dishes. Just as we were settled in the waiting room, Uncle Aron returned in a great hurry with application blanks for us to sign and requesting extra copies of our photographs. Again we had trouble with the fateful pictures. I remembered that the photographs were packed in the Neufeld’s big trunk, but Uncle Will had the key and we were unable to break the lock. What should we do? Time was running out. We decided to take the trunk to the embassy and let Uncle Will open it there. In a great hurry, that is, Uncle Aron, the trunk and I, got on a sleigh and drove to the embassy, very uneasy lest we should not get there before closing hours. Finally arriving at the impressive three-story building, Uncle Will unlocked the trunk, I found the pictures and was left on the sidewalk to guard the trunk, since we were not permitted to take it inside. I walked back and forth, trying to keep warm, waiting and hoping for the best.

It seemed ages when my uncles came out, but how happy we were, that their efforts had been successful and the visas were in good order. The ride back to the station was a happy one. Darkness had fallen and Uncle Will and Uncle Aron finally had their dinner.

Shortly before the train was to leave, there was more anxiety and worry. Uncle Will’s briefcase, in which he kept the important papers, had disappeared. We could not find it and apparently it had been stolen. Since we thought that our emigration papers and visas were stolen also, we were terrified, fearing that we would not be able to go on. It would be hard to imagine our sigh of relief when Uncle Will realized that the “papers” were in his breast pocket, safe and secure and we could continue our journey after all.

We boarded the so-called Diplomatic Train in the evening, lugging and stowing our boxes, bedrolls, trunks and bundles. It really was a miracle that we, that is our group of twelve and our belongings, were all together as the train started rolling. With happy and thankful hearts, we sang the usual prayer evening song and then bedded down on seats and bunks, tired and exhausted from a full and exciting day.