Putin is deeply involved in Russia's China policy. He has not officially visited the UK or the US recently but he flies to Beijing several times a year. Many of his entourage share his fascination with the Chinese system. His daughter studied Chinese. As Simon Kordonsky, Putin's stubbly former speechwriter, explained to me, China has captivated the Kremlin imagination as the EU crisis deepens: "It seems to me that they hardly ever have China itself in their viewfinder. The China that is emerging into their worldview is an abstract phenomenon, a reproach to those whose predecessors did not follow the ‘Chinese way' and — guided by the US and others — followed advice to build ‘the market and democracy'."

The West in crisis lacks the power and will to exploit a de-Europeanising Russia's stagnation. That chance is China's.

The road to the airport was blocked as I tried to leave Moscow. Military police in tundra-camouflage had closed a main thoroughfare to prevent dissenters gathering around the statue of Mayakovsky. Another key axis was jammed so that Putin could quietly drive the visiting Mongolian leadership along the embankment. I listened to the rattling of the Lada as the smell of diesel fused with nicotine and frustration. The driver swore. The rain fell.

On the 747 to Beijing the heavy-breathing of the engine merges with the snores of Russian fertilizer specialists and mutterings of an elderly Chinese tourist group. The morning is a dehydrated haze as I wander around the fast-growing Russian district of Beijing. There are signs in Cyrillic and Chinese, Siberian fur-trappers hawking mink to Beijing ladies, a Soviet-themed club with a performing midget, ticket kiosks for the regular shuttle-buses for Vladivostok. The Slavic customers seem shabby in the Chinese capital.