Luxurious holidays in Moscow

The gilded Cathedral of Assumption Moscow - Arabstoday The Lada standing in front of me certainly doesn't resemble the five I have just seen on the way from the airport. Those Ladas, streaked with melting snow and seemingly running on willpower alone, were typical examples of a car that spawned a thousand playground jokes. This Lada - a lady with a winning smile at my hotel - was named after the Slavic goddess of love. You get a lot of that contrast in Moscow: at times the grey and oppressive vestiges of the Soviet era overshadow what is essentially a fascinating city. It is appropriately snowy when I arrive and the Muscovites are as I imagined - a mixture of glacial beauties who stalk the street as if it is a catwalk and doughty women peering with blank expressions from the depths of their fur-lined hoods. Elderly men with impressively high Russian hats nudge you out of their way and no one smiles much. But then it is election weekend and the mood is tense - thick-set men in uniform cluster on corners and monster trucks line the streets as Putin sweeps his way to a dubious victory. My hotel, the Ritz-Carlton, is ideally placed for seeing the sights and feels like a refuge. The staff are cheerful and the showy decor is appropriate for a city where bling, it seems, is increasingly king. Even the snow looks like crushed crystal. And even if you don't get a room with a view, you can admire Red Square and the Kremlin over cocktails from the smart rooftop bar and restaurant. It makes good star-spotting territory, too. From Barack Obama to George Michael, big-name politicians, royals, supermodels, designers and Hollywood A-listers have flocked through the hotel's grand lobby. Luckily, you don't need star status to make it through the doors of the Kremlin but it's a good idea to book a guide, particularly if you don't speak Russian. Trust me, getting directions is not easy. This triangular red-walled fortress has been at the centre of so much of Russia's epic - and at times bloody - history and is the place to go if you want to delve into its imperial past. It was built between the 14th and 17th centuries in an architectural style that is, at times, pure fantasy. Towers and gates appear all along the perimeter walls, which enclose a giddying number of palaces and churches. The Kremlin has long been associated with Russia's powerbrokers (it still is) and the symbols - some may say spoils - of their status can be marvelled at in the Armoury museum. You'll see holy figures in painted religious icons looking out from a sea of gold leaf, gospels encrusted with gems and, as if precious metals and stones were not deemed enough of a decoration, crowns trimmed with fur. A room filled with gilded carriages boasting the most detailed carvings shows off the extravagance of the various rulers who once owned them. However, even they are trumped for lavishness by the Fabergé eggs produced for the Romanovs, each more inventive and intricate than the last. One of them, for example, has a route map of the Trans-Siberian Railway engraved in silver around its middle. Inside is a wonderful surprise - a windup steam train with five carriages fashioned out of gold and platinum and with windows made of rock crystal. The most fascinating room for me is the one where the clothes of the Russian royals are displayed. Particularly impressive are the huge leather boots worn by Peter the Great (he was well over 6ft). Step outside the Kremlin and the temporal soon merges with the spiritual in Cathedral Square, where the skyline is awash with golden, onion-shaped domes, Moscow's curvaceous nod to the Byzantine influence on the city. We are ushered around the Assumption Cathedral, where tsars were crowned and jawdropping murals and icons cover every inch of the interior. Outside the cathedral sits the 40-ton bronze Tsar Cannon, built in 1586 and claimed to be the world's biggest. They say if it is ever fired, it will explode. Next to it is the cracked Tsar Bell, cast in the early 1730s and, at 20ft tall and weighing 202 tons, also the world's largest. Immediately outside the Kremlin's walls, to the east, is Red Square, where Lenin's embalmed body lies in state in his mausoleum. Opposite this figurehead of communism is, ironically, a temple to capitalism - the Gum department store, whose halls ring with the sound of roubles being spent on luxury goods. In the store, I stand transfixed - just as I did earlier at Catherine the Great's diamond-studded gospel book in the Armoury - by a piece of luggage covered entirely in Swarovski crystals. Indisputably, the prize piece of craftsmanship in Red Square is the 16th century St Basil's Cathedral, which was built to commemorate a victory over the Tartars by Ivan the Terrible. I take the opportunity to walk round the rest of the city centre, past the Duma parliament and the former KGB building and through streets lined alternately with the frivolous pastel-coloured palaces and mansions of the aristocracy and the intimidatingly utilitarian buildings of the state. I enjoy a good coffee and, keeping up a comparison I use wherever I am in the world, find it to be slightly more expensive than in London. I couldn't leave Moscow without taking a dive down to one of its metro stations. They are like underground palaces or art galleries, some with chandeliers and others with rows of muscular statues, built to glorify the Soviet regime's ideology. I escape from the cold by sheltering in the Pushkin Museum of Fine Arts, where works by Botticelli, Rembrandt and Van Gogh vie for my attention. The most stirring experience of my visit is a tour of the Bolshoi Ballet, which can be booked for about £10 but is available only in Russian - another good reason to find a guide. I am privileged to see a rehearsal in the cavernous gold-tiered theatre and, watching the prima ballerina perform, I reflect how Moscow really does keep you on your toes.