The first pangs of worry occur on Friday evening, before we even land. The normally quiet Sheremetyevo airport north of Moscow is so busy that we are forced to circle for 20 minutes before we can land. The pilot says that other airports around the city have been closed due to the thick smog.

 

Visibility is minimal, so we were mightily relieved when we landed safely. The feeling of relief didn't last very long; a penetrating burning stench fills our noses before we even get off the aviobridge and the heat slams into you like a hot, wet blanket. A fellow passenger tells me it feels like a stepping into a sauna. If it's a sauna, it is very poisonous one.

 

It's stiflingly hot - almost 40 degrees - and the traffic fumes generated by Moscow's crowded roads are mixed with smoke and ash blown in from the forest fires raging southeast of Moscow. Breathing is suddenly a difficult task; you have to be careful not to breathe too deeply to avoid taking too much filthy air into your lungs.

 

On the way to the centre of the city, the taxi driver asks us why on earth we have come to Moscow now. Everyone wants to leave he says, pointing to the massive traffic jam on the road leading out of the city. It's better to get out of town if you've got a child he says, referring to our 12-year-old son on the back seat.

 

Our taxi driver is earning good money at the moment and his air-conditioning is working perfectly. He says he'll stay a few more days. I tell him that we’ve got train tickets to St Petersburg for Tuesday.

 

Fortunately there's air-conditioning at the hotel; it does ease our suffering somewhat but it can't get rid of the thick smog drifting through Moscow’s empty streets. We decide to leave for Saint Petersburg as soon as possible, however, we can't do anything at the hotel at the moment. The travel agency will open again tomorrow morning at 8 a.m.

 

Seeing as we are in Moscow, we arrange to meet a friend, Igor, to take a look around Red Square. Igor says that evenings are bearable. The heat wave has been going on for several weeks now and as the forest fires get closer to the city, it’s getting slowly but surely more unpleasant every day.

 

"The wind is blowing the smog this way," says Igor, adding, "When I e-mailed you last week, we had no problems at all, we had brilliant blue skies in Moscow. But the wind changed and now all that smoke and ash is coming our way".

 

I am amazed when the normally loyal Igor criticises the country's political leadership: "The plan of action to tackle the fires is just completely wrong. They’re not taking the fire seriously enough, the equipment is out of date and the fire corridors in the forests haven't been maintained," he says, adding, "and now Putin and Medvedev fire a couple of fire brigade chiefs from their luxurious dachas in Sochi and hand out huge sums of money for new equipment. But that's just going to disappear into somebody's pocket, no one's monitoring where it goes. Nothing has been properly organised and the Kremlin won't accept outside help".

 

Criticism in a similar vein can be found in one or two newspapers, but the television news mainly seems to be broadcasting interviews with doctors to advise Muscovites to leave the city as soon as possible or to stay in doors if leaving isn't a possibility.

 

Groups of tourists are still wandering across Red Square. Several countries have advised their nationals not to visit Moscow. I checked the Dutch ministry of foreign affairs website every day last week but even on the day we left, the ministry was not issuing any warnings about travelling to the Russian capital. Now, however, even the Netherlands is warning about the health hazards caused by thick smog.

 

Apart from tourists, there are two notable groups of Russians in and around Red Square: photographers, trying to capture the remarkable atmosphere on film and the teenage offspring of rich Russians, celebrating Friday evening. The rich kids, dressed in white and riding around in gold limousines, stop on a bridge over the Moskva. They get out and take photographs of each other, champagne glass in hand, against the extraordinary backdrop created by the smog.

 

At eight o'clock on Saturday morning, I'm standing in front of the travel agent's door. I manage to get train tickets for Sunday evening, everything leaving before then has already been sold out. I can exchange Tuesday’s tickets at Byelorussia train station. I can hardly see my hand in front of my face; so flying doesn't really seem to be an option any more.

 

While at the station I ask if it's possible to get an earlier train and I'm advised to go to Leningrad station, where I manage to get tickets for Saturday evening. So, for the second time I exchange a set of train tickets and again lose money on them. I take a deep breath, despite the smoke hanging in the metro. My son takes a very quick look round Belorusskaya metro station; several other stations have already been closed.

 

We spent the rest of the day in the hotel; wandering the streets is not an option and the museums are closed. We stay in our nice cool hotel room. However, we’ll only breathe a real sigh of relief when we arrive in St Petersburg on Sunday morning. Until then we just have to wait to get out of the hell fires of Moscow.