Although it appeared we had time for the McDonald's drive-through, there was no time to get gas, despite the illuminated 'e' on the dashboard suggesting that it wasn't just our stomachs that needed filling.

"Shouldn't we stop for petrol," I asked.

"Not yet," Alexi replied. "We have enough."

Then came the traffic jam. To roll the windows down meant to breathe in exhaust fumes so thick they could be seen on the air, perfumed by the second-hand smoke of the surrounding smokers. To roll up the windows was to be in a cramped sauna.

"There's one," I said, pointing to yet another gas station, our ticket to ten minutes of freedom.

"Not yet," he repeated. "We have enough." This trend continued for half a dozen gas stations as we slowly proceeded through traffic. Finally, his little Russian car sputtered out.

"I thought we had enough," he said. We got out and pushed as my wife steered the car along the median. We pushed and pushed and pushed. It was cooler outside the vehicle than it was inside - and we were actually passing some of the slow-moving traffic. Finally, we came to a station and he put in about a tenth of a tank. The gauge was still on 'e'.

"Don't you think we should get more," I asked, giving him money for the gas.

"We'll get more later," he replied, nose-diving back into the traffic.

Eventually, we came out of traffic and hit the crumbling highway from Moscow to Nizhni Novgorod. We stopped along the way to pee in the trees. It would be some time before we stopped for more gas. As we tumbled along the Russian roads we listened to a pirated recording of Neil Young asking the question to which I had no answer: "Where is the highway tonight..."

The long and winding road eventually led to the door of relatives and friends in the city of Nizhni Novgorod. During my visits in Russia, I've been quite fond of Nizhni. It is a large city with a population of about 2 million, so although not as large as Moscow or St. Petersburg, it is still a metropolis.

What still fascinates me about Nizhni Novgorod is that it is a relatively undiscovered gem. It is a large city with business and industry, and yet is relatively untouched by the western world. I say 'relatively' because that has changed much in the last ten years - but one has only to look to St. Petersburg and Moscow to see that Nizhni is still the sheltered sibling.

Nizhni Novgorod was a military town and was closed to foreigners until the fall of communism. My first visit was in 1994, just after the invisible wall had fallen. I was somewhat of a curiosity, a celebrity even, being an American in a large city that had only read books and seen movies about Americans. Now, of course, Nizhni is as used to imports as any other world city - but tourism still eludes it.

And that is why it is a perfect destination for someone who really wants to see Russian life. Not the history of Red Square or the architectural treasures of St. Petersburg, but modern Russian life, unaltered by the western world.

To Market, to Market to Buy a Sliced Pig

Many Russians now buy tea imported from India or England. But perhaps the best Russian tea for a foreigner to try is 36. A robust black tea, sold loose like most of the teas in Russia, it is strong and filling. Lena, my mother-in-law, remembers when she used to stand in line for hours for her ration of the new shipment of 36 tea. Now, she only buys it because of my interest - to her it is cheap and unfashionable. Why drink yesterday's favorite when imports are ample?

Tea is popular in Russia (as commonly consumed as vodka) but it is not just for breakfast. It is common to have a cup of communal tea together - steeped long and strong in a teapot and diluted in individual cups with hot water - after every meal, after drinking vodka, and as a nightcap. Along with the delicious tea we usually ate other fresh fare from the market such as cookies, pies, cakes and pastries, chocolates, and dried fruit. Tea time, even after a meal, is almost a meal in itself.

These Are the Places in Our Neighborhood

Within a five-minute walk are a dozen other parks like this one, some with more traditional attractions (such as log playhouses and slides) and some with more modern attractions (such as huge orange elephants and metal see-saws).

Perhaps 50 or more kiosks are within walking distance, each offering an amazing selection for their size of vodka, beer, wine, juice, cigarettes, condoms, cookies, candies, gum, panty-hose, ice cream, kelbasa, bread and items too numerous to attempt listing here. The nearest kiosks are only a couple minutes away on foot, making late-night beer runs and vodka stops easy and safe.

And there is always a bus stop nearby. There are more cars in Russia now than ever before, but public transportation remains by far the most common mode of getting around. A car is more a status symbol and liability in Russia than a practical asset. If you know the bus system, you can go anywhere you want to go in the city for five rubles, or 20 cents. If you don't feel comfortable with the buses or trolleys (which are not very friendly to non Russian-speaking foreigners), you can take a taxi to just about anywhere within an hour's radius for five to ten dollars. They may try to charge you $20 if they think you're a rich foreigner.

One day, after taking a $20 taxi out to Gorky Square, I took a 20-cent bus back home. On the way from the bus stop, at one of the neighborhood parks, stood a well-suited man with a microphone surrounded by a crowd of residents. The city was electing a new mayor, and this was obviously a political candidate. I asked my companion about him.

"He is Andre Clementiev. He won't be reelected."

"So he's been mayor before?"

"Only for one day. He was elected, and then he was arrested for illegal business practices. He was so mad that he vowed to never return to politics."

And now, here he was in the very next election, running again. "'Eto politician'" Alexi said, shrugging him off as typical of his profession.

A Kinder, Gentler Kremlin

But the main attraction of Minin Square is the Kremlin, established in 1221. The fortress surrounds a large area that was once the protected town of Nizhni Novgorod and is now home to the city's government buildings, old Russian Orthodox churches, an eternal flame commemorating fallen soldiers and one of my favorite cafés in the city.

The Kremlin Café is located inside one of the Kremlin's many towers. A heavy arched door of wood opens to the rustic ground floor, where heavy wooden tables, chairs, benches and log stools are the only decorations aside from the wooden bar. A brick spiral staircase leads up to the second and third floors and, at the opposite end of the ground floor, another spiral staircase leads to the cellar. Each floor has a bar. The top floor even offers admission to walk the open upper halls of the Kremlin's wall.

After a good number of hearty vodka toasts, an old friend and I took our beers and went for the walk. I answered only "da" to the ticket lady to conceal my identity and save money, but my friend answered "thank you" in his thick Russian accent just to spite me. Along the way we met a number of staircases going up and down along with the terrain, and we explored a few abandoned turrets, apparently the locations of recent parties judging by the empty beer bottles. We walked more than an hour without reaching the halfway mark. That's when we decided to turn back, motivated in part by our desire to find a toilet.

Outside the Kremlin Café, inside the walls of the kremlin, the walkway is lined with disabled war machinery: tanks, jeeps, cannons, a plane, even the top of a submarine. Nearby, we found the public restrooms, but they were closed. We had to find a place behind the building.

The sun dipped into the Volga River, the far wall and towers of the kremlin's lower portion between us and the sunset. All sorts of people were here to enjoy the moment: young couples and old, students, businessmen, blue (or red) collar workers. Some kissed, others picnicked and drank. A group of men stood with a couple bottles of Nizhegorodskaya Vodka between them, laughing as they toasted and drank.

When they discovered that I was American, they invited us over. They welcomed me heartily as an ambassador of my people and insisted I drink to international peace and friendship. I willingly drank to that. The warm vodka sunk down my insides as the hot sun sunk deeper into the Russian horizon. My friend and I had to leave. But I imagine the other men remained even after their vodka was gone.

The Street with No Crosswalks

While many of the cafés, restaurants, clothing stores, department stores and souvenir shops are very modern inside, the faces of the lining buildings are of an era long gone - beautiful stone, stucco, marble and brick structures elaborately decorated. Just looking at the buildings makes the walk enjoyable. Watching the people interacting on the streets is even more enjoyable.

People stopped left and right to talk to friends they happened to meet. It's a pleasure to watch the friendly interaction, but even better to partake of it. If you walk the street a time or two, you're likely to have the opportunity. I have seldom walked the length of Bolshaya Pokrovka without running into someone I know - even during my first visit to Russia.

Some of the establishments pride themselves on being modern; others on their rustic timelessness and it is these that get my attention. And that is why, although there are a number of cafés and restaurants worth visiting along Bolshaya Pakrovka, my favorite remains that in the tower of the Kremlin.