It's Lenin ... or at least a very glossy version of him.Credit: AP
I'm stopped at the gates and asked to put my mobile phone and watch in the bucket. A guard pushes me through the metal detector. On the other side, another burly man meets me, patting me down to check for concealed weapons. He grunts, then lets me pass on to the grey, paved square. It seems like a lot of effort to protect a world leader who's already dead.
We're here to see Vladimir Lenin but the amount of security would make you think Barack Obama was in Red Square. Despite it being the middle of winter, the queue stretches far outside the mausoleum.
Reading the memorial plaques that line the footpath, it reveals a who's who of Communist history. We edge towards the icon, the air so crisp it stings to breathe. I can see the red block letters commemorating Lenin's resting place.
Inside the red-and-black-block pyramid, the atmosphere is solemn. As soon as I step into the serpentine corridor, my eyes are forced to adjust to the darkness. I'm more than a little unnerved when a guard suddenly starts whispering at me in Russian.
I'm asked to remove my cold hands from my jacket pockets as a show of respect. I quickly take them out and smile sheepishly.
The gesture is either unseen or unappreciated. I'm moved along with renewed enthusiasm.
It seems like Lenin's schedule is still as tight as ever with official meetings and state events. We are shuffled along the corridors with clock-like precision. I soon round a corner and focus my eyes on a waxy figure in a glass casing.
It's Lenin ... or a very glossy version of him. To think that this solitary figure once ruled the Soviet Union is hard to imagine. To think that he once breathed is just as difficult.
When I walk back into the sunshine, the daylight makes me wince. The sheer vastness of the square is also a little overwhelming. It's easy to feel small in the face of such an expanse and such history.
To think it was only a little while ago that Ivan the Great decreed it, Catherine the Great improved it and the Soviets marched on it.
From a hunting ground and market place to an icon and World Heritage site, Red Square has made a Cinderella-like transformation.
All the while, St Basil's Cathedral has stood by it faithfully and not so demurely. Its hard-boiled candy spires make it look more like an ornate gingerbread house than a church. Hansel and Gretel would struggle not to nibble on it.
The only thing out of place here is GUM, the mega department store opposite Lenin's mausoleum.
Facing the square with a proud sense of occasion, the fashion house is filled with about 200 designer-brand stores. It's capitalism at its most blatant.
I can't help notice the irony that the department store is standing opposite the ultimate advocate against it. It's a striking cliche of East meets West.
I just wonder what Lenin would make of it all.
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