Irkutsk

Finally a city with a distinctive non-European feel. It is not entirely Asian, but all aspects of it carry more of an Asian vibe then all the ones I've seen so far.
To contradict what I just said I have just finished dinner in a Czech-ish restaurant with my two new Australian friends. They actually brew their own version of Pilsner Urquell here.. Unfortunately not resembling the real Pilsener Pilsener at all.

The plan for the next few days was so packed I had to cut down on some of it. The long and langweilich train journey plains tricks with your mind and makes you think that you can hike some 60 kilometers of mountainous terrain in a day. Not really possible especially when you need to get a ride there in the first place. So I won't trek around the famous Circumbaikal train route - not going through tens of hundred years old tunnels and bridges. Ce la vie.
On the other hand I'm off to the Olkhon island to see one of the five places of true shamanic energy - according to the indigenous Buryat people, who are a race of heavily Mongolian origin, and who's main religion is the ancient shamanism. I have actually met two Buryats on the train to Irkutsk offering me a stay with their families but not looking very trustworthy, I have turned their possibly innocent offer down.

But first I am off to the nearest Baikal accessible little town -

Blow the horns! I have just recieved the splendid news of my beloved sister giving birth to a 3.55kg 52cm tall cute little girl! May she grow to be a beautiful, sociable, intelligent and in-every-way very lovable woman!

- to do a little warm-up trek since I have to come back to Irkutsk to apply for my Mongolian visa on Thursday anyway. And then off to the Island for the weekend.

I will catch up with you then. (There is a cool story of my secret entry into a closed Russian town to be told too! So stay tuned!)

Train ride to Irkutsk

It's dark. I cannot with certainty say what time it is but the last remaining light behind the window will disappear any minute now.
We've been crossing the Siberian planes for some 18 hours now. It's been good. I was yearning for solitude although this can be hardly called that - 54 people crammed in one open-plan carriage - so I've been talking to no one, even avoided 'fellow' English speaking passengers.

It is not entirely how I expected it will be. I thought I will have to 'work hard' to be rewarded company but as it seems I need to fight for the moments to myself. I doubt epiphanies come through having a good time and that's what I've been having so far. Being on holiday they call it I think. I'm not planning any radical spiritual changes such as becoming a monk but I sure damn don't want to come back to my old life having learned nothing. I'm talking learning not experiencing cause of that there will be a lot no matter what.

-

Long distance train travel. It feels like some sort of suspended animation. Life existing out of bounds of space and time. Even the scenery outside the window stops feeling real after a while.
It is not meditative either - it almost feels as if being unconscious: not feeling anything, not thinking anything particular, staring into the nothingness on the other side.
It might be the irregularity of sleep but I think it is the mind not being able to cope with the lack of markers on the outside suggesting movement of this enclosed encapsulated little world. The steppe behind the window does not feel there.. Or am I not here?..

No, I am definitely here. I need to go to the toilet.

-

Even though so many years passed since the true oppression the Russians are still afraid of the police and officials. There is a saying about it which I unfortunately forgot.
In anyway I have finally managed my first experience with the Russian officials just moments ago: I am approached while smoking a cigarette and I am requested papers. Not good at all I think since I have failed to get registration stamps in both Moscow and Yekaterinburg - in the former it wasn't truly necessary since I stayed there less then three days and in the latter because I stayed with Irina. So I am preparing myself for a hefty fine when one of the official points at the entry card (given to my on entry to Russia) and complains about an incorrectly filled field. According to him there should be the destination of my travel instead of the Visa number that I have put there. I object that I have filled it according to instructions I was given but he is already sticking a note under my nose saying that I will have to pay a 'pine'. I beg to disagree when he suggests I get off the train in Novosibirsk and go with him to settle the gross error in my papers. Yeah right!
In a very non-confrontational manner I take the card from his hand, inspect it again and to my surprise find a big caption 'Visa no.' written both in English and Russian above the incriminated field. It's a joy ride from here: I point it out, he inspects, he growls, he inspects some more, he growls some more and finally waves me off and leaves to bother someone else. Not the brightest one I tell you.

Now I cannot help but wonder whether to bother with Visa registration in Irkutsk at all.

Yekaterinburg II

5:00 pm. Me and two cats in someone else's flat. The cats are someone else's too.

Just had a shower, a cold one, since for some reason they decided to switch off hot water for the entire city this morning. So I have been delaying it..
I feel like a house husband. Not doing anything all day and waiting for the wife to come home and cook some dinner. Irina is at work and coming home any time so there is some parallel, I guess. I was supposed to do some serious programming work today but I could not bring myself to start it. Once I'm past this point I usually can't let myself loose until it is done, but we are not there yet, unfortunately. So I have been browsing the internet, making myself countless cups of tea and washed my trainers since not much was left of their original color after the three weeks 'out in the field'.

I have been ill for the past few days. I managed to take with me some dodgy tonsillitis from Moscow. As it didn't seem to go away by itself and the size of my tonsils begin to give me nightmares I have reverted to my mighty med-kit and prescribed myself some antibiotics. Few days later I could sleep again so I must be a good doctor.

All would have been fine by now and I would probably be on my way to Tobolsk if I didn't get myself entangled in a little affair with my lovely host. What can I say, a couple of minutes on the dance floor shakin' and twistin' with her and some of her friends, followed by lots of complimentary looks regarding my moves'n'grooves, me fitting in by treating them all as if we were long term friends, few undeniably gentlemanly gestures, and two days later, without any real input on my part, I am being kissed on the lips by the lovely Irina. Not that I am complaining of course!

So I spend my days waiting for my lovely 'wife' to come home and cook me dinner. Heh.

With a kiss from Irina I also got a terrible Russian cold. The tonsillitis was a summer fling in comparison. My throat is on fire, my head hurts and I am gagging on my own mucus. (Sorry for the vivid imagery.) I have managed quite a nice weekend before the cold tied me down to the house though. The salsa on the river bank on Thursday evening followed by a reggaeton club night. The latter was quite impressive: probably 70% of guests were girls, all dressed in a way that words wouldn't do justice to and some putting on moves that any classy stripper should have in their routine. Sadly for you I took mental pictures only - no camera at hand, sorry.

On Friday Irina took me to a salsa lesson, which turned out to be for beginners, so we made our own party in a nearby parking lot. Dirt floor, salsa pouring out from a car stereo of an old Lada, quite a picture. As I was trying to get a drink from the nearby pub to quench my thirst after dancing a Russian stranger semi-dragged upstairs where a wedding was taking place. The reason is vodka of course and I have to go through quite a lot of explaining that I cannot drink since I'm on antibiotics. At some point the Russian fellow waves a closed fist in front of my face and I, smiling since the merry occasion and broad day light does not seem to possess any threat, apologize once again, tap him on the shoulder and leave. Being probably too drunk already he let's it be.

Saturday is here, we're going camping!

The weekend is on and what's a better way to spend it! It's super hot, swimwear and tent is packed and off we go. Grabbing a 'taxi' (stick your palm out and wait for anyone to stop, agree the price and off you go) to take us to the other part of town where we, Irina and I, are picked up by Irina's friend. A quick stop at the shop to stack up on shashliki, beer and vodka and into the wilderness we go! - Well, not so much a wilderness since this is a favorite past time of all Russians: getting out of town on a weekend. Thus we arrive to a lake that is already in majority taken over. Apparently it does not matter what class your from, I can see old Ladas together with new Jeeps and other SUVs. I guess in swim suits we are all the same.

We pitch our tents next to the tents of friends of our friends, who have already settled in, started a fire and seem generally in a good mood. Since we are in a pine forest I have to repitch the tent a few times not to damage the very thin bottom layer. After all I bought a super light tent (a 1.4 kilo two-person) so what else can be expected. All successfully done and off swimming we go.

We make barbecue, drink beer and to my surprise wait with vodka until it's dark. Apparently this is how they do it here: if getting drunk is unavoidable this way at least most of the evening is enjoyed. Can't argue that. Especially when after a 20 minute walk in the forest Irina and me come back to find the party slightly disbanded with the author of the previous words lying down apparently not having the greatest time ever. That's how things go and when two of the ladies shed some of their clothes and start dancing around the fire to the beats of Timberlake's Cry me a river I am beginning to regret no vodka has gone down my throat. Couple of hours later with few drops of rain and the thunder getting closer we depart for our tents.

The next days most of the activities are repeated. No vodka involved this time and more food then the day before. Some of us spend the day lying down and I assume generally regretting yesterday's activities. Me and a few others swim the lake and at about nine pm we all had back for the city. It's quite a ride since half the Yekaterinburg is doing the same and all of them drive like crazy - it is not unusual for a three lane road to be taking more rows of cars, one additional on the outer side reserved for emergency vehicles and to my great surprise, another one on the other - no asphalt, just grass and gravel. If you include the overall lack of road law enforcement no wonder Russia has one of the highest road accident mortality rates in the world. Getting 'home' in one piece is thus quite a relief and I make a note for the future to try to avoid car rides at all costs.

Yekaterinburg I

1:30 am. The voice of Hank Moody of the Californication series dubbed in Russian carries through the room as the last guests of a mini party at my new base leave. Few beers, incomprehensible chatter and an American series in Russian. Nice.

I have been here five days already. That certainly wasn't the plan - I wanted to press on to get to see Tobolsk and Tomsk before arriving to Irkutsk since my visa is to expire on fifth of august but that's how these things go. Probably unsurprisingly a women is involved in all this. And also a parting gift from a stranger in Moscow. But first things first.. -

I have arrived to Yekaterinburg at 18:10. Moscow time. That's how they run their train schedules here. Everything is on Moscow time as if all other parts of Russia didn't particularly matter. The timezone is GMT +5 hours. And I haven't yet properly left Europe although the geological dividing line is located some 20 kilometers west from the town. So technically this is Asia! -

Just before our arrival to Yekaterinburg I meet two other Russians both speaking a bit of English and both being very Russian. One of them, after a few inquiries as to the purpose of my being in Yekaterinburg, has invited me to stay in his home (In a slightly pompous way he straightened out his back and very proudly proclaimed I invite you to my home.). I however had to kindly refuse because of my previous couch surfing engagement. So we exchanged phone numbers and he promised me a tour around the city. Before we say good bye he makes sure I do not need his help finding my way to wherever I'm going.

The other Russian fueled by vodka and a big ego starts out with a few English sentences to show off with his English wife and a brother who is picking him up in his SUV. After that it's all in Russian, there is a lot of it and it's getting louder and louder. Obviously not minding his conversation partner slagging behind in understanding what he's on about I grow a bit impatient. After he puts his arm around my shoulders and obviously likes it there I politely back up, give my farewells and hastily leave the corridor. -

The amount of light suggests an early afternoon rather then an early evening as I step out onto the platform but in this season and this part of the world the sun sets down at midnight. Navigating throught the adjacent square to the correct bus stop with a help of a few locals I am leaving the city center in a trolleybus no. 3 in no time. About twenty minutes later I arrive to an old very Soviet looking neighborhood: old concrete apartment blocks popping out from an untamed jungle like mesh of bushes and trees. It all looking slightly shady I cannot help but
wonder how safe it is here at night.

And I'm finally here. Ring the bell, climb the stairs and voila! Irina is as pretty as she looks on her couch surfing profile. To my surprise she is however three quarters the size of what one would expect from seeing her picture. I am welcomed by another person and another and another to realise that it is her whole family who have gathered for the occasion.
Soon there is a flash and I am immortalized standing in the door with my big fat backpack and probably an obtuse look on my face - I thought she lives alone with two other friends. I am offered to take a shower before we go out which I accept and while I am getting the soap out of my eyes I think about whether I will be given a choice to sleep in bed with her mother, her aunt or Irina herself. Or do they all sleep in one bed anyway? - To my surprise I am given a small room to share with no one.

Half an hour later the whole lot of us - her, her brother, her mother, her very talkative aunt that lives in Australia and one of her flatmates are heading to salsa. By this time I know that her mother and her brother live in another town and her aunt is staying for a night before leaving back to Australia.
Both of her flatmates are girls. So it is only me and the three graces after all...

The Yekaterinburg train adventures

Four hours into the journey and the scenery hasn't changed a bit. Moscow suburbs have been surprisingly quickly replaced by deeper and deeper forests, signs of civilization diminishing with the last row of allotments.

My hopes for the real Russia starting with my stepping onto the train didn't exactly materialize. In my fluent Russian I have managed to book myself a ticket in the one of the newest most comfortable trains Russia has to offer. Thus now, stretched on a deep blue comfy mattress in an air-conditioned cabin I feel like a proper tourist yet again. Just to proof the point I get up and buy myself a cup of coffee.

It felt a bit strange leaving the hostel this afternoon. In the few days there I have managed to befriend the place - if such thing is possible - including it's manager (the bunny on the left) whom I couldn't resist buying a flower on my way out. Even though we haven't talked particularly much (her making out sessions introduced an understandable distance between us) she couldn't resist a kiss on my lips and I could resist a fairly explicit licking of her neck line.
Now lying down listening to Emmylou Harris and letting my thoughts wandering I can't.. And I don't.

The time says cigarette.

-

What do you do on a 28 hour train ride.. you sleep. And wake up at seven o'clock to the snores of various shapes and sizes of now the only fellow passenger.
15 minutes later after no audible result of the ts-ts-ts treatment I put my headphones on hoping to distract my mind from my fellow passenger's breathing technique. It doesn't work, really.

-

And there it is! A few smiles exchanged with one of the provodnitsas in the first 20 hours of the journey and initiated on my side in the generally smileless environment of Russian train travel finally pay their dividend.

After dining like a tsar in an empty restaurant coach I am stopped by the lovely 30-something year old Nadjezda on the way to my cabin. She smiles conspicuously and suggests a cigarette. Being a gentleman and all I kindly accept the offer and follow her into the narrow space at the end of the corridor. We engage in a particularly peculiar conversation with both sides not having the foggiest idea of what the other one is saying.
She suggests a champagne, that much I understand. It sounds like quite a good idea and when she takes out a stash of money it suggests that she is willing to part with some of it towards the drink. Not wanting to engage until I surely now what's in store I pretend nepanimaju. And well done me, since she is just letting me know the price of the drink. 1200 rubles sounds a bit much for a budget traveller and first week into the god-knows-how-many-months-long trip. Having only 400 rubles (about 8 quid) on me she suggests a russian cognac and a coke which I am in no position to turn down. With my 400 rubles gone I make a mental note of being an idiot and hope for some value in this.

As we return to the restaurant coach and sit down I revert to my brilliantly useless Russian-Czech conversation book for ideas and combine sentences from parts of others. I cannot help a shy smile and an apologetic face but as we engage deeper into the conversation (understand we've got past introducing ourselves) my confidence grows and I put on the charming, slightly teasing and playful but perfectly-within-a-semi-formal-engagement type of smile.
I find she is from Rostov, divorced a while ago, has an 18 year old daughter - that makes me think about her age and I find myself openly checking her out. I do not waste another apologetic smile as she semi-shily throws one my direction. I keep calling her devocka - with both of us realising that is definitely not the case it adds the spark to the conversation.

Few cigarettes later, with 30 minutes left to Yekaterinburg and all of the cognac gone - the first sight of size of the bottle made me make another mental note - she takes out a pen and starts writing down her address. And telephone number. You must come to Rostov and stay with me. The added smile suggests she doesn't want to take me for a tour around the city. Although I have never been to Rostov..

Off to Yekaterinburg

It's been nice in Moscow but it's time to leave. Can't wait to see the real Russia - Moscow with its abundance of tourists and touristy things does not feel very real.

The hostel experience was quite a unique one - the two managing girls actually live in one of the rooms, the rest is rented on per-bed basis. Sitting in the kitchen, blogging and sipping tea is the usual stuff - having the manager making out with her boyfriend on the chair across the table is definitely less usual. Takes some time getting used to. But on the other hand feels more like home.. whatever I mean by that.

Tomorrow I'm trying something different! Getting closer to the people by staying with one of the locals. That's the brilliant concept behind http://www.couchsurfing.org/. Type in your profile, find people willing to share their couch along your route, send a few emails and wait for the one response. So I did and tomorrow I'll be staying at Irina's with her two other flat mates.

It is actually not as crazy as it sounds, because it is a community. People leave feedback on the surfing and the hosting and you choose to stay with people based on their profile. In that respect it is probably safer then hostel hopping.

Sharing interests definitely helps and the plan for the weekend is to sample Yekaterinburg's salsa scene. Anyway it's been a while..

Sanduny Banya

Well, not taking place tonight. For the simplest of reasons.. money that is.

The famous Moscow's Sanduny banya - Moscow's oldest baths house - is available in three classes of comfort - tonight the upper two were available with the lower of the upper two costing a mere 1300R that is 26 quid. Bad Lonely planet guide to Moscow, bad!.. mentions costs between 400-600R. I guess times change.
But the good news is that tomorrow's morning is half price. So guess what..

-

Well, nothing afterall. Was too lazy to get up in the morning and the thought of getting steamed and whipped in this heat is rather offputting. I'm off for Yekaterinburg at four so now it's too late anyway.

To click or not to click?

Mockba

Mockba, Moskva, Moscow. One busy city I tell you. Four lane highways across the whole city including the most central centre. 15 separate metro lines. Color coded. With significantly lower number of 'primary' colors if you're eyesight is just slightly off, you're pretty much screwed. Very polite service workers and even more polite customers. (Yes, I am being sarcastic. I thought Slovakia is bad but that's nothing in comparison.) Expensive hotels. Expensive cars and exclusive privileges for the Novi Ruski who can afford it (haven't seen so many SUVs and Mercedes cars packed next to each other and almost exclusively parked on pedestrian crossings). Begging babushkas at metro stations. Tourist guides shouting into megaphones. The very well dressed pretty girls, the averagely dressed pretty girls.. And almost no one speaking English.
















Moscow's Read Square / Cathedrals inside the Kremlin / A forbidden shot / The facade of the communist party meeting grounds (now transformed to a ballet theatre)

Zdrastvujte devocki i malciki!

Train: Kosice, Slovakia -> Moscow, Russia (39 hours)

Tak takymto sposobom sa travi 39 hodinovy trip z Kosic do Moskvy. Zaklad je nedostatok spanku z predoslych aktivit (aspon trojdnovych), aspon 7 rohikov od mat'usky a nejake to kilko reznov, zopar kyslich uhoriek a hlavne aspon 4 rolky makovnika. Ale to uz asi zavisi od cestovatela.

Co sa tyka romantiky, to je na obrazku trosicku skreslene - nechapte ma zle, takyto vyhlad stoji za to, ale tridsiatapiata minuta sa uz trosku ohrava. Nehovoriac o passing-by stromoch, ktore sa ohraju podstatne skor. Inak je to ale lazo-plazo!

Rusky vozen s ruskou provodnitsou, s prisernymi zachodmi, k mojmu udivu ale klimatizovany. A este k tomu sam v kupe, takze no complaints here!

Vystup v Moskve o 10tej miestneho casu (+4 hodiny k GMT, v lete +2 k SK) bez jedineho rubla ci dolara. Prvy bankomat samozrejme nefunguje, nastastie ich maju aj v metre, takze o 20 minut sa uz valim do hostela, ktory ako sa neskor ukaze nie je nijako oznaceny. S pripravou ale ide vsetko, a kedze ja som jeden z tych (i ked moji rodicia si to asi nemyslia), viem presne kam zaklopat, ked sa vystveram na tretie poschodie obycajneho spinaveho cinziaka v sirsom centre Moskvy. Ha! A nikde nikoho. Tak si to zopaknem, dokonca najdem i zvoncek a.. ha! O chvilu sa hybe klucka.. zial dverami to nepohne a osoba na druhej strane to vzdava. -

No, nebudem vas napinat, nakoniec som sa tam nejako dostal a teraz pisem z manazerovho kompu (the bunny on the left) v peknuckej kuchyni v sprievode akehosi ruskeho rocku! Oh yeah!