How to Travel More Sustainably Without Always Traveling: Reflections on Russia

In a world where travel has become increasingly fast, frequent, and consumption-driven, I have found myself wondering whether travelling more sustainably sometimes means learning how to travel differently — occasionally even without leaving home at all.

Over the years, I have taken long-haul flights, night trains, humanitarian missions, and weekend escapes in search of new landscapes and cultures. Yet lately, I have discovered another way of travelling that feels surprisingly meaningful: revisiting places I have already been through memory.

Not so long ago, people did this far more often. We opened old photo albums, developed rolls of film, and told stories from past journeys around kitchen tables. Today, we constantly move toward the next destination instead. New places, new photos, new experiences.

But what if part of sustainable travel is learning how to stay longer with the journeys we have already lived?

Memory Travel and Sustainable Travel

Over the last two decades, travel has increasingly become tied to speed, novelty, and constant movement. I have often been guilty of this myself — choosing a quick weekend flight somewhere new instead of slowing down long enough to revisit places that had already shaped me.

Lately, however, I have started thinking differently about travel and sustainability. In a world increasingly aware of the environmental cost of transportation, I have become more interested in the idea of travelling more slowly, more consciously, and sometimes even inwardly through memory.

Revisiting old journeys cannot replace discovering new places. Yet it can deepen our relationship with the experiences we have already had while reducing the constant pressure to consume more destinations.

For me, Russia became the starting point for this reflection. It was the first “foreign” country I visited and later became a place I returned to repeatedly as a humanitarian worker. Looking back at these memories now feels like a different kind of journey — one shaped less by movement and more by attention.

My Childhood Imaginary Russia

For as long as I can remember, travelling has always been paramount to me. I grew up during the last decade of the Soviet Union, avidly reading youth books filled with heroic propagandistic stories set in distant “brother republics.” I dreamed of one day visiting those far-away, exotic places — the steppes, deserts, mountains, and Siberian taiga. Unlike my parents and grandparents, I did not long to explore the West. My imagination was drawn eastward.

My parents and grandparents travelled east too, though not entirely by choice. Travel to the West was heavily restricted in the Soviet Union, and for many Estonians, journeys to places like Leningrad — now St. Petersburg — were practical “goods trips” to buy items unavailable at home.

If you were especially fortunate, you might receive permission through work to holiday in Crimea or another distant corner of the Soviet Union. I remember begging my mother to take me with her on one of those trips to Crimea. But no — like my siblings, I stayed behind with my grandmother.

And every evening around eight o’clock, I would hear the distant melody of the Moscow night train passing near my grandparents’ home. Each time, I felt the same small ache in my stomach. Part of me longed to jump onto that train and disappear toward all the exotic places I had only encountered in books.

Pskov

The first time I truly had the chance to discover one of the Soviet “brother republics” was during a goods trip to Pskov with my mother and her colleagues.

What I remember most is how quickly the adults walked. The trip lasted only a day, and the goal was to reach as many shops as possible, so the pace felt relentless. I spent most of the time half-walking, half-running beside them, trying desperately to keep up.

At one point, one of my mother’s colleagues congratulated me on being such a fast walker. Oddly enough, that became my strongest memory from the trip — the pride of managing to move at the same pace as the adults.

St. Petersburg

I returned to Russia again in high school, after Estonia had regained independence and Russia had officially become a foreign country. This time it was a school trip to St. Petersburg, just a few days spent visiting the city’s main sights.

Back then, St. Petersburg had not yet been polished for tourism. Walking through the city gave me the same feeling I would later experience years afterward in Havana — the sense of standing inside a place that had once been deeply grand and impressive, yet whose glory clearly belonged to another era. Many buildings were covered in faded, peeling paint, and the city seemed wrapped in shades of grey.

As a teenager, of course, I also remember the social side of the trip: laughing with classmates on the bus, lingering in hotel corridors, and staying up too late in the evenings.

Yet the image that has remained with me most strongly is that of the old bridges crossing the river — bridges that opened at night to let ships pass through the city.

Moscow: First Impressions

I first visited Moscow in the autumn of 2006 as a humanitarian worker. The city itself was not my final destination. At the time, the organisation I worked for managed its operations in the North Caucasus from Moscow, and all new staff passed through the capital for briefings and administrative procedures before continuing onward.

Most people stayed only a few days. For reasons I no longer remember, I remained in Moscow for more than a week.

What stayed with me most strongly from those first days was the Moscow metro. Not the rush-hour crowds squeezing in from every direction, but the stations themselves — the marble walls, chandeliers, and ornate ceilings that looked less like public transportation and more like grand ballrooms hidden underground.

I also remember the city’s immense scale. The streets seemed impossibly wide, filled with endless lanes of traffic unlike anything I had seen before. Traffic jams were constant, and occasionally drivers even climbed onto pedestrian sidewalks in desperate attempts to move faster.

Moscow felt overwhelming, theatrical, excessive — yet strangely fascinating at the same time.

I also recall taking some Russian classes to revive and improve my childhood Russian. The Moscow restaurants that were very expensive and provided the food that I remembered from my childhood. And of course, one cannot forget the Kremlin and Red Square, pictured on one of the featured photos. These were guarded by Russian police in the street who also approached me to check my documents.

Moscow, when you stay a bit longer

What else do I remember from Moscow? The rather identical Stalin’s skyscrapers called Seven Sisters and the Soviet-style big “sleeping neighbourhoods,” something we also have in Estonia. Yet the Estonian ones are on a much smaller scale. They provided sharp contrast to the all fancy tourist locations.

I have also memories of the birch tree woods. Then I also went to the theatre, but felt frustrated about not understanding enough Russian to follow the play. In addition, I went to the cinema to see a new Russian movie. I remember that I was able to follow the movie well and felt good about my improving language skills. Yet I was shocked how people had their phones all active and constantly received calls and answered them in the cinema! It did not seem to bother anyone except me!

And finally, during this year on my mission in the Russian Federation, I had the chance to take the Moscow night train—my childhood dream coming true! After each 6 weeks, we had a long weekend off, and I often used this time to take the night train to Estonia and visit my family.

Ingushetia, Chechnya, and Dagestan

These are three republics of Russian Federation for what I was sent for one year to Russia at the first place. I became particularly familiar with Ingushetia and Chechnya. Dagestan I finally had a chance to visit only once. Every week, I usually spent one or two nights in Ingushetia and then two or three nights in Grozny, the capital of Chechnya.

It was some years after the second Chechnyan war, thus Grozny was all under reconstruction. There were many bombed buildings…

And then along the main roads, all beautifully renovated buildings and president Kadyrov photo, as on the photo below. However, often when one would enter this nice-looking building, the inside had been not renovated, only the outer facade.

Due to the security situation and the threat of being kidnapped, we were always accompanied by armed guards. And I remember one always wore slippers outside, never shoes. The guards were all in uniform and armed, but then in slippers! Occasionally, I could stay in Grozny for the weekend and could visit the newly renovated amusement park. I have a memory of taking the ride on the big ferris wheel, of course together with my armed bodyguards.

From Ingushetia, I mostly remember our office that was also our residence. Due to strict security rules and curfews, we spent 90% of our time in this building. I think my past as a humanitarian worker, often living under curfews and allowed limited movement, has been an important resource for me these days in facing the pandemic lockdown and restrictions. During a mission like that, one has to learn how to be resilient and to blossom in constrained circumstances.

As to Dagestan, I was impressed with this Sarykum sand dune, in the middle of otherwise very different landscape.

Sustainable Travel Russian Federation: Nalchik and Elbrus

Nalchik is the city where I spent most of my weekends during this year-long mission. It was a place where I could walk around without guards, going freely to restaurants and to the city’s beautiful parks. I really fell in love with the parks there. In general, I find parks in Russia beautiful. Weekend walks in the park seem to be an important leisure activity for many Russians. As to other pastimes, I got into playing bowling and riding in Nalchik. Below I am with a white horse called Elbrus.

Nalchik is also very close to Mount Elbrus, the highest peak of Caucasus mountains in Russia. In winters we usually spent one day skiing there. And I remember how much less secured the slopes were compared to the Alps that I knew. It was also time when people did not yet wear helmets, and I was no exception. Once I fell badly and had a concussion that affected my mental capacities for many months.

During other seasons, many of my colleagues would still go there to hike although. Incredible scenery!

Pyatigorsk, Kislovodsk, and Sochi

These are the cities in Southern Russia to where I travelled during some weekends from Nalchik. From Pyatigorsk, I remember the five hills that overlook the city.

It is famous for its spa. Pyatigorsk is also the city where Russian poet Lermontov died during a duel. My strongest travel memory related to Pyatigorsk is my first paragliding experience down from one of the 5 hills – incredible moment!

Kislovodsk is a very beautiful spa city. I loved the Cascade Stairs and the Kurortny Park. It has beautiful trails and the Valley of Roses garden.

Finally, I visited Sochi when it was slowly preparing for the Olympic Games. Sochi was also known to me from my childhood. Like the Crimean peninsula, it was a famous and well-loved beach resort on the Black Sea. Walking on the promenades and in the parks is well-imprinted in my memory, although I personally was a bit disappointed. I guess I had put the city on pedestal in my mind based on all these childhood stories. It was not exactly as I had imagined.

If you have been in Russia, what are your travel memories? What places do you like to revisit in your memories? If you would like to read more about my memory trips, I invite you to visit Turkmenistan with me.