I saw Lenin today. What's left of him, anyway. I left Роман and Катя's, and it was only noon so I headed down the gray line to the mausoleum in Red Square. I was kind of hungry, so I bought a ham-and-cheese pastry in the переход to Александровский Сад (Alexandrovsky Garden, just outside the Kremlin). The more I mulled over what I was about to see, the more I regretted the pastry.

Through an outdoor metal detector (my phone was checked carefully for any trace of a camera), around winding cordoned-off pathway next to the Kremlin wall, past a militsia man at every turn, into the squat stone building marked ЛЕНИН, then down a steep darkened staircase.

I had heard that the guards don't like it if you stop moving, so I ambled slowly past the glass case. I was a third of the way around before I reminded myself to really look at it, because it's counterintuitive just to stare at this person lying there. I was alone (except for 3 guards) for about a minute, then two other men came in. They stopped walking, so I did too.

The body's one step up from those life-size models of paleolithic people you see at the natural history museum, and only because it's recognizable as Lenin. It's the color of maple sugar candy and has a plasticky luster. His trademark mustache is subtly painted on, and his nose is preternaturally perky (think Michael Jackson, but more triangular in profile). His ears are the least reconstucted-looking--they're shriveled and a little sunken, both into his head and down towards the floor. He's wearing a black suit, swathed in red satin, and like everyone legendary is tinier than you'd expect.

A few seconds after we stopped one of the guards told us to "передите!" (I think), so the three of us finished our circuit around the case and climbed the stairs back into daylight.