I caught a bit of a cold and have been feeling rundown, so I took the past few days to rest and recharge in Ulaanbaatar. But tomorrow, finally, I will get out of the city and see the 'real' Mongolia.
I'm leaving on a 14-day to the Gobi Desert and on to Central Mongolia with two couples I met at my hostel. Stijn and Sabine are both from Belgium. David is from England and Magdalena is from Poland. It will be the five of us, a driver and a guide in an old Russian van. I had the opportunity to join a similar group a few days ago but I'm glad I decided to pass. It would have been a bad idea to hop in a van with a bunch of total strangers when I was already in a grumpy mood...
I'll get back to UB just in time to pack and hop on the train to Beijing the following morning, so my next post will probably be from China once I'm settled in.
8/20/2008
8/19/2008
A friend in need
I wrote before about the death of my friend Zach. Apparently there's a movement afoot to get Anna recognized for her heroic efforts to make something good of the situation, despite her ongoing battle with the monsters who run Baltimore city. Please take a moment to nominate her.
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/25066703/
The link for the support website for her and Zach is at the top right corner of the blog.
Thanks!
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/25066703/
The link for the support website for her and Zach is at the top right corner of the blog.
Thanks!
8/17/2008
Buddhastock
I had planned on taking a 7-day trip to the Gobi Desert, but I backed out after I ran into a German couple I met in Moscow. They invited me on a trip they were planning, so I did that instead. One lesson I've learned on this trip is that it's not always where you go or what you see, but who you're with. When you get the opportunity to travel with good people, you take it.
Volker and Heidi are two of the most calm, pleasant, agreeable people I've ever met. And they are both much more experienced as travelers than I am. They have been in Mongolia for a few weeks. They also invited an American girl from their hostel, who is finishing up her second month in Mongolia. Margaret went to Towson State. Small world, once again.
We went to the Gongoriin Bombani Hural, or prayer ceremony, at Amarbayasgalant Khiid, one of the three main Buddhist monasteries in Mongolia. It was completed in 1737, and at one time there were 2,000 monks there. But during the Stalinist purges in 1937 up to 30,000 monks in Mongolia were either killed or deported to Siberian work camps. Now there are only 30 monks there.
It was about a five-hour drive from Ulaanbaatar. The last 35 km were on a dirt road, through gorgeous valleys with acres and acres of wildflowers. I was looking forward to visiting a working monastery and enjoying a few peaceful days of meditation. But it was more like going to Disneyworld. This is a view of the monastery from the hill just behind it. And on the other side are thousands of cars.
It's always annoying when someone quotes something from a travel guide as if it was something he thought of himself, so I'd like to say for the record that I have witnesses that I compared the festival to Woodstock before I read it in my Lonely Planet guide book.
This is the scene just inside the main temple. Monks are seated on either side, where they chant, play music, receive offerings and give blessings.
Note: I don't normally think it's appropriate to take pictures in a working house of worship, but everyone was. (I happen to be reading "Moby-Dick" at the moment, and as Ishmael says, "I cherish the greatest respect towards everybody’s religious obligations, never mind how comical.") Most of the people there were locals. There were very few Westerners. It was a wee bit crowded inside.
People would enter and circle clockwise through the temple. (Everything is done clockwise in Buddhism.) In the back there were tables where they would leave offerings. I never did find out why they offer what they do: candy, cookies, vodka, etc. My theory is it's to fatten the monks up for the winter.
This photo gives a good idea of the general scene. The crowd of people seated on the floor. The incredible profusion of color. The modern touches like the video camera. Just to the right of the video camera you can see a monk chanting into the microphone on his collar. Outside the temple there were closed-circuit TVs and a booming PA system to broadcast the ceremonies across the valley.
At one point someone was speaking through the PA system and the crowd started cheering and clapping, which struck us as a little unrestrained, given the location. A local sitting next to us told us that they had just announced that a Mongolian had won an Olympic gold medal in judo. The whole valley celebrated that night.
My new Mongolian friend lent me his prayer beads. It's similar to the rosary. The idea is to run the string clockwise through your hand, turning each bead once clockwise. My mentor seems to approve of my technique. It's too bad I look like Karl from "Sling Blade".
I reckon I'm gonna twiddle me these here prayer beads, mmhmm.
On the far end of the valley is a set of eight religious monuments called stupas. Margaret and I walked up there one evening but left when a group walked up to perform some sort of ritual. I felt like I was intruding.
I must admit I was somewhat disappointed at the carnival atmosphere. There were lots of vendors there, selling Coca-Cola, water, fruit, and, of course, Coca-Cola. Knockoff sunglasses and toys were for sale. There were also vendors selling khuushuur, which is mutton in fried dough, similar to an empanada. Mmm ... khuushuur. Three was enough to fill me up, and cost 900 togrog, or about 75 cents.
I also finally tried the local brew, which I was looking forward to. Airag is fermented mare's milk. It's not as bad as it sounds. I actually enjoyed it. One of the joys of traveling is doing things you wouldn't do at home, like drinking something you bought from a complete stranger in a parking lot, who ladled it out of a 55-gallon drum into a used water bottle!
Still, it saddened me that the monks would have to clean up the mess.
I was careful to observe the etiquette of the temple: taking off my hat when I entered, not stepping on the threshold, not sitting with my feet pointing towards anyone, etc. But I was one of the few. There were some true Mongol herders in traditional capes called dels that were positively regal looking. But the new generation was there in greater numbers, with Yankees caps and iPhones and surgical masks.
Now, in the polluted cities of China surgical masks are a necessary precaution. In Ulaanbaatar it's probably overkill. In rural Mongolia it's a ridiculous affectation. And in a monastery I think it's downright disrespectful.
Then again, the cars and horses stirred up so much dust that by the end of the festival the valley took on the hellish look of the oil refinery in "The Road Warrior".
The last night, as we were getting ready for bed, a herd of dozens of horses came through the camping area to graze. I couldn't get a picture of them in the darkness but they were there in the morning. In the foreground is Heidi and Volker's tent.
The next morning I hiked up to the ridge behind our campsite. I carried my coffee all the way up there to sit and enjoy the view but the gnats were so bad I took this self-portrait and headed back down.
So I still don't feel like I've really seen Mongolia yet. The past few days I've had a bit of a cold, so I've been just hanging out at the hostel and resting. I hope to join a tour for 10 to 14 days so I can get out and see the country.
Volker and Heidi are two of the most calm, pleasant, agreeable people I've ever met. And they are both much more experienced as travelers than I am. They have been in Mongolia for a few weeks. They also invited an American girl from their hostel, who is finishing up her second month in Mongolia. Margaret went to Towson State. Small world, once again.
We went to the Gongoriin Bombani Hural, or prayer ceremony, at Amarbayasgalant Khiid, one of the three main Buddhist monasteries in Mongolia. It was completed in 1737, and at one time there were 2,000 monks there. But during the Stalinist purges in 1937 up to 30,000 monks in Mongolia were either killed or deported to Siberian work camps. Now there are only 30 monks there.
It was about a five-hour drive from Ulaanbaatar. The last 35 km were on a dirt road, through gorgeous valleys with acres and acres of wildflowers. I was looking forward to visiting a working monastery and enjoying a few peaceful days of meditation. But it was more like going to Disneyworld. This is a view of the monastery from the hill just behind it. And on the other side are thousands of cars.
It's always annoying when someone quotes something from a travel guide as if it was something he thought of himself, so I'd like to say for the record that I have witnesses that I compared the festival to Woodstock before I read it in my Lonely Planet guide book.
This is the scene just inside the main temple. Monks are seated on either side, where they chant, play music, receive offerings and give blessings.
Note: I don't normally think it's appropriate to take pictures in a working house of worship, but everyone was. (I happen to be reading "Moby-Dick" at the moment, and as Ishmael says, "I cherish the greatest respect towards everybody’s religious obligations, never mind how comical.") Most of the people there were locals. There were very few Westerners. It was a wee bit crowded inside.
People would enter and circle clockwise through the temple. (Everything is done clockwise in Buddhism.) In the back there were tables where they would leave offerings. I never did find out why they offer what they do: candy, cookies, vodka, etc. My theory is it's to fatten the monks up for the winter.
This photo gives a good idea of the general scene. The crowd of people seated on the floor. The incredible profusion of color. The modern touches like the video camera. Just to the right of the video camera you can see a monk chanting into the microphone on his collar. Outside the temple there were closed-circuit TVs and a booming PA system to broadcast the ceremonies across the valley.
At one point someone was speaking through the PA system and the crowd started cheering and clapping, which struck us as a little unrestrained, given the location. A local sitting next to us told us that they had just announced that a Mongolian had won an Olympic gold medal in judo. The whole valley celebrated that night.
My new Mongolian friend lent me his prayer beads. It's similar to the rosary. The idea is to run the string clockwise through your hand, turning each bead once clockwise. My mentor seems to approve of my technique. It's too bad I look like Karl from "Sling Blade".
I reckon I'm gonna twiddle me these here prayer beads, mmhmm.
On the far end of the valley is a set of eight religious monuments called stupas. Margaret and I walked up there one evening but left when a group walked up to perform some sort of ritual. I felt like I was intruding.
I must admit I was somewhat disappointed at the carnival atmosphere. There were lots of vendors there, selling Coca-Cola, water, fruit, and, of course, Coca-Cola. Knockoff sunglasses and toys were for sale. There were also vendors selling khuushuur, which is mutton in fried dough, similar to an empanada. Mmm ... khuushuur. Three was enough to fill me up, and cost 900 togrog, or about 75 cents.
I also finally tried the local brew, which I was looking forward to. Airag is fermented mare's milk. It's not as bad as it sounds. I actually enjoyed it. One of the joys of traveling is doing things you wouldn't do at home, like drinking something you bought from a complete stranger in a parking lot, who ladled it out of a 55-gallon drum into a used water bottle!
Still, it saddened me that the monks would have to clean up the mess.
I was careful to observe the etiquette of the temple: taking off my hat when I entered, not stepping on the threshold, not sitting with my feet pointing towards anyone, etc. But I was one of the few. There were some true Mongol herders in traditional capes called dels that were positively regal looking. But the new generation was there in greater numbers, with Yankees caps and iPhones and surgical masks.
Now, in the polluted cities of China surgical masks are a necessary precaution. In Ulaanbaatar it's probably overkill. In rural Mongolia it's a ridiculous affectation. And in a monastery I think it's downright disrespectful.
Then again, the cars and horses stirred up so much dust that by the end of the festival the valley took on the hellish look of the oil refinery in "The Road Warrior".
The last night, as we were getting ready for bed, a herd of dozens of horses came through the camping area to graze. I couldn't get a picture of them in the darkness but they were there in the morning. In the foreground is Heidi and Volker's tent.
The next morning I hiked up to the ridge behind our campsite. I carried my coffee all the way up there to sit and enjoy the view but the gnats were so bad I took this self-portrait and headed back down.
So I still don't feel like I've really seen Mongolia yet. The past few days I've had a bit of a cold, so I've been just hanging out at the hostel and resting. I hope to join a tour for 10 to 14 days so I can get out and see the country.
8/11/2008
From Siberia to Mongolia
I was dreading the border crossing from Russia to Mongolia. I was told that it could take around 11 hours, or about a third of the total train trip of 34 hours. I had also heard and read all the horror stories of overzealous customs officials and scammers on both sides. So I was pleasantly surprised at how easy it was. Yeah, it took hours, but the officials on both sides barely gave our paperwork or bags a second glance. I should have bought that icon in Moscow!
I expected the Russian border station in Naushki to be busy. I figured there would be police, customs officials, vendors, tourists, etc. But the platform was completely empty, which scared me even more. Notice anything else missing? Oh, yeah -- the train.
It was a little disconcerting when they pulled it away, especially since they had taken all our passports and tickets.
I also made a new friend. Look familiar?
So far the hardest part of this trip is that I miss my dog!
For about two hours nothing happened. Nothing. Then we figured out why. They were waiting to get the dead body off the train.
No, really.
Russian policemen are pushing a cart with a dead man on it. His feet are towards camera and a cloth is covering his body. I took this as surreptitously as possible -- this was the Russian border after all! And we certainly didn't ask any questions! So we had no idea what happened.
I only had one other person in my compartment, a Finnish girl named Heidi. She was polite and friendly and courteous, the very opposite of the Fun Couple. Here I am properly enjoying my very own cabin, with Heidi, and a fun British couple, Paul and Rachel. We're drinking vodka as we celebrate our arrival into Mongolia.
We arrived in Ulaanbaatar a little after 6 a.m. This is the main road, Peace Ave. Notice all the signs in English. To the right, just off camera, is a cosmetic surgery center.
And to the left, a five-minute walk up a hill leads to a Buddhist temple. Mongolia is the first Buddhist country I've visited.
Mongolia was also the world's second Communist country, after Russia. At the other end of town is Sukhbataar Square. Here, in 1921, the communist general after which the square is named declared Mongolia's independence from China. It has a decidely Stalinesque look and scale to it.
That's a statue of Sukhbataar on horseback in the center. In the center of the building is a statue of Chinggis Khaan, more commonly known in the west by the mistranslated version of his name, Genghis Khan.
More on him in a future post. He deserves his own.
I expected the Russian border station in Naushki to be busy. I figured there would be police, customs officials, vendors, tourists, etc. But the platform was completely empty, which scared me even more. Notice anything else missing? Oh, yeah -- the train.
It was a little disconcerting when they pulled it away, especially since they had taken all our passports and tickets.
I also made a new friend. Look familiar?
So far the hardest part of this trip is that I miss my dog!
For about two hours nothing happened. Nothing. Then we figured out why. They were waiting to get the dead body off the train.
No, really.
Russian policemen are pushing a cart with a dead man on it. His feet are towards camera and a cloth is covering his body. I took this as surreptitously as possible -- this was the Russian border after all! And we certainly didn't ask any questions! So we had no idea what happened.
I only had one other person in my compartment, a Finnish girl named Heidi. She was polite and friendly and courteous, the very opposite of the Fun Couple. Here I am properly enjoying my very own cabin, with Heidi, and a fun British couple, Paul and Rachel. We're drinking vodka as we celebrate our arrival into Mongolia.
We arrived in Ulaanbaatar a little after 6 a.m. This is the main road, Peace Ave. Notice all the signs in English. To the right, just off camera, is a cosmetic surgery center.
And to the left, a five-minute walk up a hill leads to a Buddhist temple. Mongolia is the first Buddhist country I've visited.
Mongolia was also the world's second Communist country, after Russia. At the other end of town is Sukhbataar Square. Here, in 1921, the communist general after which the square is named declared Mongolia's independence from China. It has a decidely Stalinesque look and scale to it.
That's a statue of Sukhbataar on horseback in the center. In the center of the building is a statue of Chinggis Khaan, more commonly known in the west by the mistranslated version of his name, Genghis Khan.
More on him in a future post. He deserves his own.
Ulaanbaatar
I arrived by train yesterday morning in the capital of Mongolia, Ulaanbaatar, or UB, as we unemployed travel bums call it. Tomorrow I'm leaving for a 7-day van trip to the Gobi Desert, so I'll be out of internet contact for at least a week. I've got some photos and stories to post from the rest of the train trip, but I'm experiencing technical difficulties. The adapter I use to upload pix from my memory card seems to have died. So I'm off now to find a replacement.
UB is basically the only city in Mongolia. I have to admit I'm a bit disappointed at how modern and touristy it is here. After struggling with Russian I was not looking forward to trying to communicate in Mongolian, which uses the same alphabet as Russian, but with two additional characters. Great. But even though the sounds are more or less the same, the words are all different.
So imagine my surprise to discover all the signs here are in English. People here understand more English (and smile a lot more!) than Russians.
Hopefully the next post will have pix.
UB is basically the only city in Mongolia. I have to admit I'm a bit disappointed at how modern and touristy it is here. After struggling with Russian I was not looking forward to trying to communicate in Mongolian, which uses the same alphabet as Russian, but with two additional characters. Great. But even though the sounds are more or less the same, the words are all different.
So imagine my surprise to discover all the signs here are in English. People here understand more English (and smile a lot more!) than Russians.
Hopefully the next post will have pix.
8/08/2008
Clarification: Lake Baikal
It's been brought to my attention that my Lake Baikal post is a bit cryptic. So I'll elaborate a bit.
The "travel mistake" was thinking I could figure out what to do and where to go once I arrived in Irkutsk. But it's not that easy here. It is Siberia, after all. There are tourists here, and it definitely appears as though the infrastructure is improving, it's not an easy place in which to improvise. I should have planned better.
As for Victor, my host at the home stay in Listvyanka, I was tempted to write a post just about him. As I walked back and forth down the town's one road I'd see him working: carrying lumber, painting, etc. Later he showed me the stencil he was working on for the sign that would say "Rooms for Rent" in both Russian and English. aIt seemed clear he was hoping to turn his house into a hostel or guesthouse.
Because I speak almost no Russian and he speaks nothing but, conversing over evening tea was a bit difficult. He chattered on and on even though I made it clear I didn't understand a word he was saying. I realized that I was perhaps the only person he had interacted with all day, and was probably just happy to have someone to talk to. I mentioned how I took time to look at and admire his icons. But I noticed there were no pictures anywhere.
I was relieved when he pulled out a stack of photographs, to help pass the time, if nothing else. There were a number of pictures which I figured out were of him helping to build the church on the hill in Port Baikal, which he seemed quite proud of. There were pictures of the lake in winter, which were gorgeous.
But there were photos of people as well. There were pictures of a precious young girl, maybe 10 years old, including one of her smiling under a Christmas tree in a McDonald's t-shirt. And there were pictures of a regal, statuesque woman, usually in a white fur coat and hat. She reminded me of Julie Christie in "Dr. Zhivago," and, really, is there a higher compliment for a woman?!
But as I went through I noticed something. I started going through the pictures again, even though he indicated that I had seen them all. All of the pictures had time stamps. None of them had been taken in the last ten years.
I don't know what happened to the woman and child, who I assumed were his wife and daughter. Even if we shared a common language I don't know how I would have asked. All I can guess is that about 10 years ago something very bad happened.
The next morning when he offered me tea again. I think he had been waiting for me to come downstairs. I felt really guilty declining, but I really did have to get to the bus station.
I gave his name and address to the folks at the hostel in Irkutsk. Hopefully they'll send people his way.
The "travel mistake" was thinking I could figure out what to do and where to go once I arrived in Irkutsk. But it's not that easy here. It is Siberia, after all. There are tourists here, and it definitely appears as though the infrastructure is improving, it's not an easy place in which to improvise. I should have planned better.
As for Victor, my host at the home stay in Listvyanka, I was tempted to write a post just about him. As I walked back and forth down the town's one road I'd see him working: carrying lumber, painting, etc. Later he showed me the stencil he was working on for the sign that would say "Rooms for Rent" in both Russian and English. aIt seemed clear he was hoping to turn his house into a hostel or guesthouse.
Because I speak almost no Russian and he speaks nothing but, conversing over evening tea was a bit difficult. He chattered on and on even though I made it clear I didn't understand a word he was saying. I realized that I was perhaps the only person he had interacted with all day, and was probably just happy to have someone to talk to. I mentioned how I took time to look at and admire his icons. But I noticed there were no pictures anywhere.
I was relieved when he pulled out a stack of photographs, to help pass the time, if nothing else. There were a number of pictures which I figured out were of him helping to build the church on the hill in Port Baikal, which he seemed quite proud of. There were pictures of the lake in winter, which were gorgeous.
But there were photos of people as well. There were pictures of a precious young girl, maybe 10 years old, including one of her smiling under a Christmas tree in a McDonald's t-shirt. And there were pictures of a regal, statuesque woman, usually in a white fur coat and hat. She reminded me of Julie Christie in "Dr. Zhivago," and, really, is there a higher compliment for a woman?!
But as I went through I noticed something. I started going through the pictures again, even though he indicated that I had seen them all. All of the pictures had time stamps. None of them had been taken in the last ten years.
I don't know what happened to the woman and child, who I assumed were his wife and daughter. Even if we shared a common language I don't know how I would have asked. All I can guess is that about 10 years ago something very bad happened.
The next morning when he offered me tea again. I think he had been waiting for me to come downstairs. I felt really guilty declining, but I really did have to get to the bus station.
I gave his name and address to the folks at the hostel in Irkutsk. Hopefully they'll send people his way.
8/07/2008
Final thoughts on Russia and first thoughts on Mongolia
I leave Russia tomorrow night. Or at least I'll try to. I've heard that getting into Russia is hard, but getting out is harder! I'm taking a train from Irkutsk to Ulaanbaatar, the capital of Mongolia. The trip takes about 34 hours, and I've heard that a third of that is simply crossing the border, because both governments are pretty thorough.
There was only one train available tomorrow, and unfortunately it leaves at night. From Irkutsk to Ulan Ude the train hugs the southern end of Lake Baikal, but I won't see it!
This is yet another example of how Russia has challenged and frustrated me. I really like it here, but this is not a good country in which to improvise. I'd like to come back, but next time I will pay a travel agent to book and plan every minute. I wasted too much time trying to buy tickets at the train station, trying unsuccessfully to book tours, etc. And while the language barrier is huge, I've met tourists who are fluent in Russian tell similar stories.
Things are changing very quickly here, I think. It will be interesting to come back in a few years and see what sort of concessions have been made for tourists. Getting a visa to Russia is a pain in the butt. I expect tourists will still need visas in the future, since there's a lot of money to be made there, but I think the process will become easier.
If you visit a city for more than 72 business hours you are required to register your visa. Most hotels and even hostels will do this ... for a fee. If you don't register properly customs officials can make leaving the country difficult -- and expensive.
Even though I've been here nearly a month I've barely scratched the surface. I'd like to do the whole Trans-Siberian, just to see how grungy I'd feel after eight days (!!) on a train. I'd like to do at least part of the trip in winter. I'd definitely like to spent a lot more time in the Lake Baikal region, hiking and rafting and diving. And I'd like to see it in winter, also.
However, I've met a lot of people who have come to Russia from Mongolia and they all love it. I'm really looking forward to it.
It's another place that has fascinated me since I was a kid, and another place I never really expected to see. It's a country the size of Alaska, with less than 3 million people, making it the most sparsely-populated country on earth. Half the people there still live in gers or yurts, circular felt tents. Horses outnumber people there roughly 13-1.
It's not the sort of place most normal people care to visit. When people ask me what's there, my standard response is: Nothing!
There was only one train available tomorrow, and unfortunately it leaves at night. From Irkutsk to Ulan Ude the train hugs the southern end of Lake Baikal, but I won't see it!
This is yet another example of how Russia has challenged and frustrated me. I really like it here, but this is not a good country in which to improvise. I'd like to come back, but next time I will pay a travel agent to book and plan every minute. I wasted too much time trying to buy tickets at the train station, trying unsuccessfully to book tours, etc. And while the language barrier is huge, I've met tourists who are fluent in Russian tell similar stories.
Things are changing very quickly here, I think. It will be interesting to come back in a few years and see what sort of concessions have been made for tourists. Getting a visa to Russia is a pain in the butt. I expect tourists will still need visas in the future, since there's a lot of money to be made there, but I think the process will become easier.
If you visit a city for more than 72 business hours you are required to register your visa. Most hotels and even hostels will do this ... for a fee. If you don't register properly customs officials can make leaving the country difficult -- and expensive.
Even though I've been here nearly a month I've barely scratched the surface. I'd like to do the whole Trans-Siberian, just to see how grungy I'd feel after eight days (!!) on a train. I'd like to do at least part of the trip in winter. I'd definitely like to spent a lot more time in the Lake Baikal region, hiking and rafting and diving. And I'd like to see it in winter, also.
However, I've met a lot of people who have come to Russia from Mongolia and they all love it. I'm really looking forward to it.
It's another place that has fascinated me since I was a kid, and another place I never really expected to see. It's a country the size of Alaska, with less than 3 million people, making it the most sparsely-populated country on earth. Half the people there still live in gers or yurts, circular felt tents. Horses outnumber people there roughly 13-1.
It's not the sort of place most normal people care to visit. When people ask me what's there, my standard response is: Nothing!
Travel mistake: Lake Baikal
I was really looking forward to exploring the area around Lake Baikal, but I blew it. I expected to be able to do what I've always done, show up someplace new, get the lay of the land, then book a tour or make plans. Can't do that here.
I spent a couple dreary, rainy days wandering around Listvyanka, the little fishing village an hour north from Irkutsk. But I didn't see much. This is the southern end of the lake, with the mouth of the Angara River to the right and the Old Trans-Siberian Railway curling around the Port Baikal in the distance.
I went to the pretty unimpressive Baikal Museum. They do have a sort of scale model of the lake. You can see that it is quite deep for most of its length.
Another fun fact I learned is that it is estimated that if all the other sources of fresh water on earth dried up Lake Baikal could provide drinking water for the entire planet for 40 years!
They also have tanks with local wildlife, including two nerpas, freshwater seals. They're in a tiny little tank, maybe 40 feet long, and they just swim back and forth. It's hard to get a decent picture of them because they're always moving and flash photography isn't allowed. They look rather like overinflated balloons.
And they look very, very sad...
Although it's obvious Listvyanka is starting to understand it's potential as a tourist town, there isn't much in the way of accomodation, so I did my first homestay. This is where you simply stay as a guest in someone's house, and it's quite common in Russia, in part because there are so few hostels.
Usually the hosts speak only Russian and the guests speak none, so I was prepared for awkward conversations with lots of hand gestures. My host, Victor, is turning his house into a proper guest house. There was the smell of fresh paint, and a brand-new indoor toilet!
He speaks no English. None. But he was very sweet, and very lonely, I think. So when I came home after wandering around in the rain all day, all I wanted to do was go to my room, for reasons that will soon be obvious. But he wanted me to join him for tea.
I think I was the first guest he's shared tea with, since he had to find a box of sugar cubes and figure out how to open it. He also served me store-bought biscuits, but honey and cheese he made himself.
I made a point to ask him about his religious icons, which pleased him. One is genuinely beautiful, hand-painted on wood, of the Archangel Michael.
This is his house. My room was the one with the triangular window and the new door on the second floor.
And this is the view!
I was looking forward to coming back in the evening with a couple cold beers and just sitting in the doorway and staring at the lake, which I did after tea. I left the door open and fell asleep staring at the lake...
I spent a couple dreary, rainy days wandering around Listvyanka, the little fishing village an hour north from Irkutsk. But I didn't see much. This is the southern end of the lake, with the mouth of the Angara River to the right and the Old Trans-Siberian Railway curling around the Port Baikal in the distance.
I went to the pretty unimpressive Baikal Museum. They do have a sort of scale model of the lake. You can see that it is quite deep for most of its length.
Another fun fact I learned is that it is estimated that if all the other sources of fresh water on earth dried up Lake Baikal could provide drinking water for the entire planet for 40 years!
They also have tanks with local wildlife, including two nerpas, freshwater seals. They're in a tiny little tank, maybe 40 feet long, and they just swim back and forth. It's hard to get a decent picture of them because they're always moving and flash photography isn't allowed. They look rather like overinflated balloons.
And they look very, very sad...
Although it's obvious Listvyanka is starting to understand it's potential as a tourist town, there isn't much in the way of accomodation, so I did my first homestay. This is where you simply stay as a guest in someone's house, and it's quite common in Russia, in part because there are so few hostels.
Usually the hosts speak only Russian and the guests speak none, so I was prepared for awkward conversations with lots of hand gestures. My host, Victor, is turning his house into a proper guest house. There was the smell of fresh paint, and a brand-new indoor toilet!
He speaks no English. None. But he was very sweet, and very lonely, I think. So when I came home after wandering around in the rain all day, all I wanted to do was go to my room, for reasons that will soon be obvious. But he wanted me to join him for tea.
I think I was the first guest he's shared tea with, since he had to find a box of sugar cubes and figure out how to open it. He also served me store-bought biscuits, but honey and cheese he made himself.
I made a point to ask him about his religious icons, which pleased him. One is genuinely beautiful, hand-painted on wood, of the Archangel Michael.
This is his house. My room was the one with the triangular window and the new door on the second floor.
And this is the view!
I was looking forward to coming back in the evening with a couple cold beers and just sitting in the doorway and staring at the lake, which I did after tea. I left the door open and fell asleep staring at the lake...
8/04/2008
Scuba diving in Siberia
I finally got to see Lake Baikal today. Here it is from the town of Listvyanka.
Not only did I see the lake from the top looking down, I saw it from the bottom looking up. I went scuba diving.
I knew I wouldn't see much, and I figured the cold would be excruciating, but I wanted to be able to say I went diving in the world's deepest lake.
Baikal is famous for how clear its water is. People get vertigo because they can see the bottom when the water is quite deep. But there was a storm yesterday, which stirred up the water, and we didn't go far from shore. This is an artist's rendering (mine) of what I saw:
We wore thick wet suits and the water near the shore wasn't terribly cold. My guide said it was 15 degrees, or about 59 degrees Fahrenheit. That's cold, but not unbearable. We eventually got down to about 20 meters below the surface. To do so we passed through a thermocline, a layer of much colder water.
Using my keen scientific intellect I estimated the water temperature there to be about 875 degrees below zero, but my guide said it was actually 5 Celsius, or about 41 Fahrenheit. That's still pretty cold.
The night I left Moscow it was quite chilly. That was the only time on the trip thus far that I have had to wear a jacket. It's still quite warm in Siberia. I took this self-portrait before suiting up to go in the water, and I was perfectly comfortable in shorts and no shirt.
Not only did I see the lake from the top looking down, I saw it from the bottom looking up. I went scuba diving.
I knew I wouldn't see much, and I figured the cold would be excruciating, but I wanted to be able to say I went diving in the world's deepest lake.
Baikal is famous for how clear its water is. People get vertigo because they can see the bottom when the water is quite deep. But there was a storm yesterday, which stirred up the water, and we didn't go far from shore. This is an artist's rendering (mine) of what I saw:
We wore thick wet suits and the water near the shore wasn't terribly cold. My guide said it was 15 degrees, or about 59 degrees Fahrenheit. That's cold, but not unbearable. We eventually got down to about 20 meters below the surface. To do so we passed through a thermocline, a layer of much colder water.
Using my keen scientific intellect I estimated the water temperature there to be about 875 degrees below zero, but my guide said it was actually 5 Celsius, or about 41 Fahrenheit. That's still pretty cold.
The night I left Moscow it was quite chilly. That was the only time on the trip thus far that I have had to wear a jacket. It's still quite warm in Siberia. I took this self-portrait before suiting up to go in the water, and I was perfectly comfortable in shorts and no shirt.
8/02/2008
The Trans-Siberian Railway, cont.
To answer some questions I've received:
-There are two bathrooms in each carriage. They're not disgusting, but not someplace you'd want to linger either. They are locked for about 20 minutes both before and after you enter a station. The reason is that when you flush the toilet you can see the ground beneath the train. It flushes straight out the bottom.
-Each carriage has at least one attendant, or provodnik. (I think that's the male form of the word.) They collect tickets, hand out bedclothes, vacuum the floor, clean the bathrooms, let you know when to get on and off at whistlestops, etc.
-Music is piped into all the compartments. The provodnik also gets to choose what type of music to listen to. It's usually pretty awful. Russian pop music all sounds like it's from the soundtrack of an 80s teen movie. What many don't know is that you don't have to listen. There's a volume knob over the window. The Fun Couple and I had a running battle over the music volume. I usually lost.
-There is a samovar in each car, which is a device for producing hot water. So there's a ready supply for making instant coffee or instant noodles.
One quirk of Russian trains is that they all run on Moscow time. Russia spans 10 time zones, but all train times are on Moscow time. I traveled to Irkutsk, which is five hours ahead of Moscow, so I had to know that when it said the train will arrive at 4:07 a.m. it really meant 4:07 Moscow time plus five hours.
It's one of those things that makes perfect sense to Russians but causes infinite distress for foreigners. I met one couple who paid for a night at a hostel they didn't need because they arrived six hours later than they expected.
It gets really goofy if you're traveling between two cities when neither of them is in Moscow. To travel from Novosobirsk to Chita you need to know that you're leaving at Moscow time plus three hours and arriving at Moscow time plus six hours.
-There are two bathrooms in each carriage. They're not disgusting, but not someplace you'd want to linger either. They are locked for about 20 minutes both before and after you enter a station. The reason is that when you flush the toilet you can see the ground beneath the train. It flushes straight out the bottom.
-Each carriage has at least one attendant, or provodnik. (I think that's the male form of the word.) They collect tickets, hand out bedclothes, vacuum the floor, clean the bathrooms, let you know when to get on and off at whistlestops, etc.
-Music is piped into all the compartments. The provodnik also gets to choose what type of music to listen to. It's usually pretty awful. Russian pop music all sounds like it's from the soundtrack of an 80s teen movie. What many don't know is that you don't have to listen. There's a volume knob over the window. The Fun Couple and I had a running battle over the music volume. I usually lost.
-There is a samovar in each car, which is a device for producing hot water. So there's a ready supply for making instant coffee or instant noodles.
One quirk of Russian trains is that they all run on Moscow time. Russia spans 10 time zones, but all train times are on Moscow time. I traveled to Irkutsk, which is five hours ahead of Moscow, so I had to know that when it said the train will arrive at 4:07 a.m. it really meant 4:07 Moscow time plus five hours.
It's one of those things that makes perfect sense to Russians but causes infinite distress for foreigners. I met one couple who paid for a night at a hostel they didn't need because they arrived six hours later than they expected.
It gets really goofy if you're traveling between two cities when neither of them is in Moscow. To travel from Novosobirsk to Chita you need to know that you're leaving at Moscow time plus three hours and arriving at Moscow time plus six hours.
Eclipse
I was bummed that I couldn't stop in Novosobirsk to see the eclipse. There were a lot of people on the train who were in Siberia just to see it. I was surprised to find there's a whole worldwide subculture of people who travel to see every eclipse.
Although I didn't get to see the "totality" (as the eclipse geeks would say) I did get to see the eclipse from Irkutsk. My Swedish friend Kjerstin and I found a nice park with a clear view and watched as best we could without burning our eyes out. From where we sat the sun was roughly half eclipsed.
I tried to take a picture through my sunglasses. You can see a slight indentation in the bottom right of the sun if you're looking for it.
And here is me with the partially eclipsed sun in the background.
And here's a self-portrait of Kjerstin and I. Yeah, she's a little crazy...
She's an avid horse rider and leaves tomorrow for Mongolia for a 12-day horseback riding adventure.
Although I didn't get to see the "totality" (as the eclipse geeks would say) I did get to see the eclipse from Irkutsk. My Swedish friend Kjerstin and I found a nice park with a clear view and watched as best we could without burning our eyes out. From where we sat the sun was roughly half eclipsed.
I tried to take a picture through my sunglasses. You can see a slight indentation in the bottom right of the sun if you're looking for it.
And here is me with the partially eclipsed sun in the background.
And here's a self-portrait of Kjerstin and I. Yeah, she's a little crazy...
She's an avid horse rider and leaves tomorrow for Mongolia for a 12-day horseback riding adventure.
The Trans-Siberian Railway
This is my carriage before it left the station. In the front you can read Irkutsk, and then Baikal. It's not a true Trans-Siberian because it doesn't run the full route to Vladivostock.
I was in the first carriage. Just to the left is the engine. Since I was in the front I had to walk past 14 carriages. It's a long walk! Especially with a backpack, a knapsack and a bag full of groceries.
I was in a second class, or kupe compartment. It looks something like this.
There are four beds and a small table. Baggage can be stored under the bottom beds or over the door. The idea is that the bottom half of the compartment is shared during waking hours.
In the front on the right is my new Swedish friend Kjerstin. We hit it off, which is a good thing when you're stuck on a crowded train for over three days. The other folks are part of a large Dutch contingent scattered throughout the train. This group got off in Irkutsk but were eventually going onto Beijing because the couple on the right has a daughter competing for the Dutch water polo team. Pretty cool.
They were all extremely nice and welcomed me into their group. Which was good, because there's a reason this picture isn't of my cabin.
I was fully expecting to be the only English speaker on a train full of Russians. I brought along a bottle of vodka to help me make friends. I've read and heard a lot about how part of the fun of the train is sharing compartments with strangers, sharing food and drink and having broken conversations in multiple languages.
I shared my compartment with Nelke, the Dutch woman in the front left of the picture above. Notice that she is not in her compartment either. That's because the two of us were stuck with two truly awful people. They were Russian and didn't speak any English, but that wasn't the issue.
The Fun Couple truly felt the compartment was theirs. It never occurred to them that they were supposed to share. They were either sitting at the table or sleeping. Only when we stopped at platforms would they leave the compartment, and then it was usually only the man. They reminded me of a loud, white-trash couple from East Baltimore. Picture an old Bawlamer hon with frizzy white bottle-blonde hair and a old man with a beer belly sitting on a stoop in Dundalk.
They didn't so much as acknowledge my presence. From talking to other people on the train I discovered there is a fairly elaborate etiquette on the train. For instance, generally couples will take a top and bottom bunk and so have one side of the train to themselves. It is customary to offer women the bottom bunks. This would have been nice in this case because Nelke is a bit older and had some difficulty getting up and down.
But the man in the Fun Couple was probably too obese to get up and down. Not that it would have occurred to him to offer. Both of them snored to wake the dead, but what's worse is that even when awake they talked in inappropriately loud voices and made all sorts of weird groaning and sighing noises. It was like sharing a cage with two wild animals.
They slept at odd hours, which is fine, except that they didn't respect that Nelke and I slept at normal hours. So they'd wake up at 2 a.m. and have tea. But not just tea. They'd sing or read to each other or cackle like witches. I didn't sleep a wink the entire trip. God forgive me for saying so, but I've never hated two people so much in my life.
End of rant.
Having said that, the overall experience was enjoyable. I would love to do it again. I'd like to do the entire trip. I'd like to see it in winter. However, after three days I was feeling pretty grungy and yes, the Fun Couple did give the compartment a distinctive odor. I can't imagine how I'd feel after doing the whole trip, which takes about 8 days!
The trains were not designed for tourists. This is how Russians move around the country. The menus in the restaurant cars have English, but the staff there don't speak a word. But at least you can point to what you want. There isn't a wasted square inch on the train. There's no place to lounge around except in the cabins or restaurant car.
There's a schedule on the wall which lists the time and duration of each stop. At the longer stops we'd get off and stretch our legs. There were almost always kiosks to buy Coca Cola, cigarettes or Pringles. (Why are Pringles so popular around the world?)
If we were lucky there would be local folks selling "real" food. Sausages, pickles, bread, pilmyeni (Siberian dumplings), etc. At one stop people were selling dried, salted fish. I was trying to buy one from a woman when she suddenly dumped everything into her bag and walked a way. I thought, "Fine, if you don't want my money..."
Then I saw three soldiers walking down the platform. So apparently what I was buying was illegal. At one stop a woman was selling small smoked sturgeon, which I'm almost positive is illegal. (Sturgeon is the fish from which we get caviar, and they're chronically overfished.)
After the soldiers left the woman came back to me and sold me my fish. Kjerstin bought a different variety, and later we ripped them apart and ate them like barbarians. It was wonderful.
I was hoping there would be some sort of observation platform on the back of the train, but no. The windows don't open, which makes sense considering the trains go through Siberia all winter. But it's difficult to get a decent picture. And you can't see what's ahead of or behind the train unless it turns, which happens rarely. For hours on end the train goes on in a straight line with nothing but trees on either side.
The one constant sight out the windows are power lines and poles. The trains are run by electricity, which is a bit disappointing, as it deflates the romantic idea of a steam train chugging along through the countryside.
There are major cities along the line. This is Krasnoyarsk, a city I had planned on stopping to see. Because of it's location on the hills above the Yenisey River it's considered the most scenic city in Siberia.
I'm sure this city, as well as Perm and Novosobirsk and other cities we passed through, have their charms, but mostly all we could see from the train were industrial sites and soulless Soviet-era buildings, basically giant, rundown concrete boxes.
But especially as we got further east we saw more and more traditional Siberian settlements, where virtually all the buildings are made of wood.
We passed acres and acres of meadows covered in beautiful wildflowers, mostly yellow and purple. Even though this shot didn't turn out, I like it because it looks like an impressionist painting.
Finally, here is a shot from Irkutsk, where I am now. In the foreground is the Angara River, the only river that flows out of Lake Baikal, and in the background the train station where I arrived.
Irkutsk has roughly the same population as Baltimore, but there are still traditional Siberian buildings everywhere. I'm staying right off the main drag -- Karl Marx Street! -- and just a few blocks away from the bus station, and yet this is the building next door to my hostel.
I was in the first carriage. Just to the left is the engine. Since I was in the front I had to walk past 14 carriages. It's a long walk! Especially with a backpack, a knapsack and a bag full of groceries.
I was in a second class, or kupe compartment. It looks something like this.
There are four beds and a small table. Baggage can be stored under the bottom beds or over the door. The idea is that the bottom half of the compartment is shared during waking hours.
In the front on the right is my new Swedish friend Kjerstin. We hit it off, which is a good thing when you're stuck on a crowded train for over three days. The other folks are part of a large Dutch contingent scattered throughout the train. This group got off in Irkutsk but were eventually going onto Beijing because the couple on the right has a daughter competing for the Dutch water polo team. Pretty cool.
They were all extremely nice and welcomed me into their group. Which was good, because there's a reason this picture isn't of my cabin.
I was fully expecting to be the only English speaker on a train full of Russians. I brought along a bottle of vodka to help me make friends. I've read and heard a lot about how part of the fun of the train is sharing compartments with strangers, sharing food and drink and having broken conversations in multiple languages.
I shared my compartment with Nelke, the Dutch woman in the front left of the picture above. Notice that she is not in her compartment either. That's because the two of us were stuck with two truly awful people. They were Russian and didn't speak any English, but that wasn't the issue.
The Fun Couple truly felt the compartment was theirs. It never occurred to them that they were supposed to share. They were either sitting at the table or sleeping. Only when we stopped at platforms would they leave the compartment, and then it was usually only the man. They reminded me of a loud, white-trash couple from East Baltimore. Picture an old Bawlamer hon with frizzy white bottle-blonde hair and a old man with a beer belly sitting on a stoop in Dundalk.
They didn't so much as acknowledge my presence. From talking to other people on the train I discovered there is a fairly elaborate etiquette on the train. For instance, generally couples will take a top and bottom bunk and so have one side of the train to themselves. It is customary to offer women the bottom bunks. This would have been nice in this case because Nelke is a bit older and had some difficulty getting up and down.
But the man in the Fun Couple was probably too obese to get up and down. Not that it would have occurred to him to offer. Both of them snored to wake the dead, but what's worse is that even when awake they talked in inappropriately loud voices and made all sorts of weird groaning and sighing noises. It was like sharing a cage with two wild animals.
They slept at odd hours, which is fine, except that they didn't respect that Nelke and I slept at normal hours. So they'd wake up at 2 a.m. and have tea. But not just tea. They'd sing or read to each other or cackle like witches. I didn't sleep a wink the entire trip. God forgive me for saying so, but I've never hated two people so much in my life.
End of rant.
Having said that, the overall experience was enjoyable. I would love to do it again. I'd like to do the entire trip. I'd like to see it in winter. However, after three days I was feeling pretty grungy and yes, the Fun Couple did give the compartment a distinctive odor. I can't imagine how I'd feel after doing the whole trip, which takes about 8 days!
The trains were not designed for tourists. This is how Russians move around the country. The menus in the restaurant cars have English, but the staff there don't speak a word. But at least you can point to what you want. There isn't a wasted square inch on the train. There's no place to lounge around except in the cabins or restaurant car.
There's a schedule on the wall which lists the time and duration of each stop. At the longer stops we'd get off and stretch our legs. There were almost always kiosks to buy Coca Cola, cigarettes or Pringles. (Why are Pringles so popular around the world?)
If we were lucky there would be local folks selling "real" food. Sausages, pickles, bread, pilmyeni (Siberian dumplings), etc. At one stop people were selling dried, salted fish. I was trying to buy one from a woman when she suddenly dumped everything into her bag and walked a way. I thought, "Fine, if you don't want my money..."
Then I saw three soldiers walking down the platform. So apparently what I was buying was illegal. At one stop a woman was selling small smoked sturgeon, which I'm almost positive is illegal. (Sturgeon is the fish from which we get caviar, and they're chronically overfished.)
After the soldiers left the woman came back to me and sold me my fish. Kjerstin bought a different variety, and later we ripped them apart and ate them like barbarians. It was wonderful.
I was hoping there would be some sort of observation platform on the back of the train, but no. The windows don't open, which makes sense considering the trains go through Siberia all winter. But it's difficult to get a decent picture. And you can't see what's ahead of or behind the train unless it turns, which happens rarely. For hours on end the train goes on in a straight line with nothing but trees on either side.
The one constant sight out the windows are power lines and poles. The trains are run by electricity, which is a bit disappointing, as it deflates the romantic idea of a steam train chugging along through the countryside.
There are major cities along the line. This is Krasnoyarsk, a city I had planned on stopping to see. Because of it's location on the hills above the Yenisey River it's considered the most scenic city in Siberia.
I'm sure this city, as well as Perm and Novosobirsk and other cities we passed through, have their charms, but mostly all we could see from the train were industrial sites and soulless Soviet-era buildings, basically giant, rundown concrete boxes.
But especially as we got further east we saw more and more traditional Siberian settlements, where virtually all the buildings are made of wood.
We passed acres and acres of meadows covered in beautiful wildflowers, mostly yellow and purple. Even though this shot didn't turn out, I like it because it looks like an impressionist painting.
Finally, here is a shot from Irkutsk, where I am now. In the foreground is the Angara River, the only river that flows out of Lake Baikal, and in the background the train station where I arrived.
Irkutsk has roughly the same population as Baltimore, but there are still traditional Siberian buildings everywhere. I'm staying right off the main drag -- Karl Marx Street! -- and just a few blocks away from the bus station, and yet this is the building next door to my hostel.
8/01/2008
Siberian sunset
This was taken from the Trans-Siberian Railway, just outside of Omsk. I'll write more later, but I just finished a 76-hour train ride and stopped into an internet cafe to check on two packages, one I shipped home from Moscow and one being shipped to me here in Irkutsk.
But I did want to let the folks back home know that I made it safely, although I desperately need a shower and some sleep ...
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