180908 – Irkutsk to Lake Baikal
After the mov1ie and drinks of last night, everyone was a little sluggish getting up. Andre appeared at a little after 8 and cooked us a breakfast of eggs. It was nice enough, but we heard the others had gotten pancakes. I think we were all still a little sleep deprived at this point.
Packing at a furious rate, the others in the group arrived and luggage was stowed. A last minute dive into my pack meant I had to walk the minefield of still-wet-clothes that had been hung up, in order to get my pack out of the way. With a little time to spare, we waited down stairs for the bus to arrive.
Correction.. Mini-Bus...
For a 4 hour trip...
This will be a long day.
Piling into the little vehicle, it quickly became cramped. Shifting day-packs, feet and bottoms, we all managed to stretch and squeeze into various positions that could have been confused with comfortable. iPods came out and book were opened long before we reached the city limits.
Looking out of the window, the Russian city showed the now familiar signs of stress, age, decay and regrowth. We passed bright red flower gardens in the middle of industrial districts, flee-markets that sold all manner of car parts, hardware and sattelite dishes, construction sites with great and ancient monsters sitting in puddles of oily mud. Great factories churned raw materials into smoke. Warehouses with aging roofs and doorways to nothing but air half-way up, their sibling building stolen from them or never even completed. Passing pockets of residential buildings, houses with ornate wooden facades, surprisingly few apartment blocks, swarms of cars everywhere.
Breaking out into the forrest, the road surfed over the hills as the pine trees oscillated through seasons of colours. Soon grassland made brief appearances as fencelines became more frequent. Over the next hour, for all of the farmland that I saw, I didnt spot any dedicated agricultural machinery. Im sure it was there, but just the wrong season.
After a couple of hours with the terrain offering nothing new, we pulled in opposite a giant metal sign that appeared to be masquerading as a monument. Unsure of what message it was meant to be proclaiming to the world, our guide informed us it was a toilet break.
On our side of the road was an assortment of quesitonable buildings that made up something similar to a truck-spot. There appeared to be multiple businesses there, with signs of recent and upcoming construction. Beyond the great sign, on the opposite side of the road, the undulating grassland and fencelines were broken up with a dispersed village in the distance. In the three directions, away from the buildings, the road we followed stretched beyond the horizon while the side-road curved and rolled to the lonely buildings.
Turning away from this view of Siberia, I followed the little pavings to the gents.
People with more gentle sensibilities than I will be reading this, so I will keep descriptions to a minimum.
I saw a pit of black that spoke of only death and plague. Darkness was here, beconing you closer.
I have now travelled 5 continents. This is the worst, most horrible toilet that I have EVER witnessed.
For the rest of time, I will describe toilets on a scale... some might compare a toilet to TrainSpotting-Bad, I will only ever shake my head. With a hint of fear in my voice, I will utter Siberia-Bad...
Minimising my need for the rest-room to that which could be done from a distance, and assuring myself that I would be able to hold-on until I reached a toilet that didnt require an exorcism, I returned to the group and recounted my horror in as few words as possible.
Not believing me, two of the guys went to check. Someone took a camera, but I doubt such unholy horror could be captured.
Back in the bus, we continued our journey. We stopped again about an hour later to take photographs of the changing scenery, otherwise our journey to the lake was uninterrupted.
Once in view of the lake, the road began to lose altitude. Eventually changing from asphalt to gravel, we were immediately surrounded by holiday camps and related housing obviously intended for summer.
Having come to the end of this road, we were the first vehicle at the chain barrier. Disembarking, most of us made it to the top of the hill and surveyed the islands. A fishing boat was making its way back to harbour, tiny in the distance.
Over the next hour, coaches and cars started to line up. The ferry boat eventually arrived and the coaches were let through. Some mongrel decided that he was somehow special, lining up with the couches and then screaming at the soldier when they wouldnt let him through. Possibly realising that they were armed and he was most probably less so, he stormed back to his minibus and roared away from the lot, dodging between the posts and then forcing his way into the ferry lot before anyone could stop him. A spoilt look on his face, he refused to move in any direction except for towards the ramp.
By this time, our vehicles had cleared the chain and was waiting to board. Threatening to block the entire ramp and ram anyone in his way, the mongrel in the minibus forced us out of our position. When the ramp was raised, ours was the only vehicle between the chain and the ferry, we would be waiting till the next boat.
More than a little dark, the entire group retreated to a nearby canteen. Sensing the danger, Anne and Andre had Intrepid buy us all a hot-drink and a snack. DimSims and pastry-covered fish accompanied the cards in preventing mutiny. Our opinions on Russian men were deteriorating by the minute.
Finally, the next boat arrived and we were first on. Once again there was rage and furry enacted by various drivers, it appears to be one way for conducting business in Russia. One dispute stretched from the shore onto the boat, only resolved when one of the men pulled a knife (according to someone in the group).
The ferry trip took about half-an hour. A bitterly cold wind shepherded us across the water, it was a welcome relief when we boarded the minibus again at the other end. It was another half-hour to drive to the village at the other end of the home-stay. In acts of of frustration, some drivers attemped kamikaze-style overtaking, others dived onto gravel side-roads thinking that it might somehow shave a half-second off of their lap-time.
Not really noticing much of the village as we pulled through it, we arrived at the home-stay. Titled an Eco-Tour venue, it bragged about not having flush toilets, minimal power and the like. Constructed out of wood with thick beams, a generous selection of ply-wood and the traditional ornate facade carvings, it was a series of pretty enough looking buildings. The centre of the complex was the dining area that reminded me of a common-room, large tables and long benches with a piano in the corner. The accomodation was a series of dual story buldings, about half of them having a second story. In two corners of the complex were the Russian Banya style bath-houses. Almost hidden in plain-sight, the actual centre of the complex was a glorious wooden two story house. Obviously kept for the staff, this was truly something else. With taller ceilings, the high second floor must have offered glorious views of the surrounding mountains and lake.
I was billeted with Liam and Denesh on the ground floor of one of the outlying buildings. With its low ceiling, the wall heater would be most welcome and the thick split-log walls would hopefully keep us warm, the crevices and gaps sealed with lengths of rope.
Meeting in the common-room and still feeling wrotten with my cold, lunch was most welcome with fish and soup. It was a light meal, but food none the less. A nap was held next, everyone was well worn from the journey.
The late afternoon saw the group heading out for the orientation walk. Andre took us past a little store that offered traditional crafts of the region, most of us agreed to come back here to stock up on gifts. Continueing on, we skirted the pit where unused fish was dumped for the dogs and birds. Rising over a small mound, we made towards the great rock whos local name meant Small-God. This is the centre of shamanism for the world, a great and sacred site.
Getting to the great rock consisted of a steep grassy slope that skirted a small harbour. The climb was steep but managable, I think that we were all a little less fit from the week of train-travel. Approaching from down the hill, trees were adorned with strips of brightly coloured cloth. Offerings to the spirits. The last tree before the lake seperated the Small-God from land had a colourful band tied at an impossible hieght, near the apex of the highest limb.
Making it to the small spit that joined Shaman Deity to Baikal Island, insane locals and foriengers were diving between the waves. Reputed to extend your life by 25 years, there were more than a few testing the theory. Suffering from my cold, Im sure that it would have ended my life in 25 seconds. Besides which, Im sure that any longevity would have been from having all non-essential bodily functions snap-frozen for two and a half decades. The bitter chill of the water didnt stop Greg, Adam and Andy from testing the theory twice over the next few days.
Having reached the base of the great rock, we followed Andre in scaling it to the top. Taking over an hour and changing route at least twice, it appeared to be the proper thing to do. Sitting at its highest point is said to have various properties. It was a glorious view, the lake stretching into the distance and the sun barricaded behind several tiers of cloud. Much of the group made it to this high point, the climb down as difficult as the ascent.
Returning via the same walk as getting out there, stones were skimmed at a low and dark rock some way out. Photos of the sun creeping to the horizon with trees and the giant rock were taken, quiet promises to blow them up when we got home would hopefully not be forgotten.
Pacing up the hill, I later found out that the locals had begged the Russian government to not build the town within site of the rock. The Russians relented, moving construction only 100m past the first ridge-line.
Back at the Nikitas home-stay, we were served dinner by a very pretty russian girl. Reminding me of a Polish friend back home, we snacked on a small fish-meal. Most of the group sat up to play cards, I retreated to the room to get as much sleep as possible.
Their night done, I woke when Liam and Denesh came into the room. Denesh, as typical, diving into sleep faster than rat down a hole. Unable to keep pace, my drowsing became a wakeful rage as he started to snore like a great trumpet of hell.
My iPod and later my head-phones couldnt keep the nightmarish sound out. I will confess that, over the next 5 hours or trying to get to sleep, not knowing where I could dispose of the body was the ONLY thing that kept him safe...
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
170908 – Russia, Trans-Siberia Railway – Irkustk
DAY FIVE
The morning was about the lowest point for the journey.
Rising early to Anne's gentle “time to get up” followed shortly by Old Cow banging on the door and screaming. The younger provonista came by and indicated with little patience that she would require our sheets and towels. Fair enough.
Here is when the dramas began.
One by one, we approached the provonista's little compartment and handed over two sheets, a small towel and the pillow-case cover. She curtly counted them and shooed us away. Andy had misplaced his towel and hence had to pay 150 Rubels, fair enough.
WRONG
The younger of the two had stuffed the rubels into her purse. Shortly, the ancient and decrepit tart who was in good need of an enema stuffed up a flaccid orifice, had decided that we would be an easy scam and proceed to try and extort us for the next hours.
Beginning by screaming at us that we had lost or stolen a towel, two sheets and two pillowcases, she demanded payment. This was followed by confusion on our part, we'd handed them in as individuals to begin with. Anne promptly went into battle. At first arguing and then demanding that the old cow recount them, she was unsatisfied. Pulling each sheet out in turn, inspecting it and throwing it in the face of this incontinent wretch of a woman, Anne successfully found two of the pillow cases and one of the sheets. Arcing up, our first example of some secret Soviet radioactive inbreeding program simply descending into screaming at Anne in Russian, demanding money.
Here, Anne demonstrated the art and tact of the Thai. Starting calmly and working her way up into a fury, she took the various opportunities to switch into speaking Common Thai at an impressive volume for her small stature. Remaining civil at every step, she pointed out that if the woman wouldn't bother to make herself understood, we would reciprocate.
Respective parties stalking off, the old crone continued to display that she demanded a bribe. Adam, tired of the vocal contest gave her 100 Rubels (about $5AUD) to just make her shut up and leave us alone. Two of the girls had observed the younger of the provonistas leaving with a “very uncomfortable look on her face” as soon as the old %@*^& had started on her crusade for cash.
This had been a scam, simple as that.
When the train came to a halt at our designated station, we passed the obnoxious wench. Each of us offering either our best weed-killer glare or the dark indifference that clearly says “If I cared enough for you to exist, you great scaly beast, I hope you set yourself on fire”. Most of our group had taken the liberty to jam all of the windows open. Featuring locks that used compression between the frame and the window, they would be a real pain to shut. None of us had the chance to block the toilet, though several of the boys had been contemplating it for the last two days.
Trying to extort Aussies, Brits and Kiwi's is never a good idea. It had been particularly wise of her to hide her corruption until the last possible moment. At least in Jordan, that guy had realised that he was outclassed in the attempt to scam some extra cash. This old cow was simply unscrupulous and had even disgusted her little protege.
All said, we had to pay about 400 Rubels. This was significantly less than the old crone had been demanding, and was paid in a handful of instalments. Making her work for it. Finally, we were off of the train.
Making it out the front of the train station, it was 5ish in the morning Moscow time and about 1030AM local time. Anne tracked down our local guide, Eugene. He was a local of asian heritage who would be joining us, with intermissions, across the next few days. Loading us into mini-buses, we were escorted to our housing.
Irkustk is the largest city in region, labelled “the Paris of Siberia”. Making our way from the train station, over the river and along the city thoroughfares, we were all a little too exhausted to pay much attention to the passing scenery until later in the day. The streets and buildings of the city spoke of an older time, the peeling paint combining with the cold to mask the quiet grandeur of the place. Making our way onto the side-streets, the ornate wood carvings adorning the eves and broader walls could be forgiven for fading and cracking. These homes had lived through periods of great change, this ageing was inevitable. There was a fair amount of new construction taking place in the city, I particularly noticed that a lot of the pavement was be replaced or repaired.
Our homestay was in an apartment that had been vacated for our visit. Enjoying a GLORIOUS series of showers and preparing snacks, we chilled out for a couple of hours. Once the other groups had joined us from their accommodation, we embarked on the orientation tour.
Wandering down the main strip and past the park, our local guide pointed out the post-office, super-market and shopping district. To be honest the local guide did a somewhat average job at the tour, we ended out relying on our little maps most of the time. Lunch was in a very little cafe in the basement of a near-by hotel. Chosen by our local guide for reasons beyond our understanding, they had run out on rice, chicken and most other staples. Luck alone guided me to ordering a bowel of soup, most of the guys opting for a pork chop that was delivered undersized, cold and covered in fried egg. My soup cost about $3.50AUD, those who ordered the pork went pale on being charged in excess of $15. At some point during the meal, Anne had left to “converse” with Eugene. He did not return and no-one was impressed.
Wandering through the city, Internet was sourced and utilised along with a supermarket. Snacks were procured and a couple of people sought out souvenirs or other services. Later in the day, we met as a group a little before sunset for a walk along the river/lake. Walking through the fading light, we passed an excessive number of young people spending sunset by the water. Teenagers and young families mingled and socialised on the wall overlooking the river or throughout the narrow park that separated city from water. Turning at a great statue, we passed several university buildings on the way to dinner. In stark contrast to my expectations of a Siberian city, this was a thriving town with a great many young people embracing their opportunities. Dinner was at a traditional Russian tea-house, decorated with red fabric wall-paper and antique items speaking of Russian history.
The tea-house was superb. The food was exceptional and reasonably priced, along with the drinks and later desert. Opting for a beef and vegetable hotpot, it was only a modest portion but certainly sufficient. Serving the table was a very pretty russian girl wearing our first example of a traditional dress. Done up like a Russian Doll, she was absolutely exquisite and charming. Almost the entire group was smitten with her. Originally planning to save a few dollars on desert, one person ordered an icecream dish with a hot-chocolate base. A small avalanche of “one more, please” promptly followed, filling the rest of the table.
Dinner done, the group once again visited the supermarket to ensure a suitable level of snackage. Keeping eyes out for something resembling a nightlife, we found ourselves back at our respective accommodation in desperate need of entertainment. Tonight was simply the wrong night for going out.
The evening finished with us four boys watching American Psycho on Adam's laptop and drinking Russian beer. It had been a good day and we were appreciating a couple of days without trains.
The morning was about the lowest point for the journey.
Rising early to Anne's gentle “time to get up” followed shortly by Old Cow banging on the door and screaming. The younger provonista came by and indicated with little patience that she would require our sheets and towels. Fair enough.
Here is when the dramas began.
One by one, we approached the provonista's little compartment and handed over two sheets, a small towel and the pillow-case cover. She curtly counted them and shooed us away. Andy had misplaced his towel and hence had to pay 150 Rubels, fair enough.
WRONG
The younger of the two had stuffed the rubels into her purse. Shortly, the ancient and decrepit tart who was in good need of an enema stuffed up a flaccid orifice, had decided that we would be an easy scam and proceed to try and extort us for the next hours.
Beginning by screaming at us that we had lost or stolen a towel, two sheets and two pillowcases, she demanded payment. This was followed by confusion on our part, we'd handed them in as individuals to begin with. Anne promptly went into battle. At first arguing and then demanding that the old cow recount them, she was unsatisfied. Pulling each sheet out in turn, inspecting it and throwing it in the face of this incontinent wretch of a woman, Anne successfully found two of the pillow cases and one of the sheets. Arcing up, our first example of some secret Soviet radioactive inbreeding program simply descending into screaming at Anne in Russian, demanding money.
Here, Anne demonstrated the art and tact of the Thai. Starting calmly and working her way up into a fury, she took the various opportunities to switch into speaking Common Thai at an impressive volume for her small stature. Remaining civil at every step, she pointed out that if the woman wouldn't bother to make herself understood, we would reciprocate.
Respective parties stalking off, the old crone continued to display that she demanded a bribe. Adam, tired of the vocal contest gave her 100 Rubels (about $5AUD) to just make her shut up and leave us alone. Two of the girls had observed the younger of the provonistas leaving with a “very uncomfortable look on her face” as soon as the old %@*^& had started on her crusade for cash.
This had been a scam, simple as that.
When the train came to a halt at our designated station, we passed the obnoxious wench. Each of us offering either our best weed-killer glare or the dark indifference that clearly says “If I cared enough for you to exist, you great scaly beast, I hope you set yourself on fire”. Most of our group had taken the liberty to jam all of the windows open. Featuring locks that used compression between the frame and the window, they would be a real pain to shut. None of us had the chance to block the toilet, though several of the boys had been contemplating it for the last two days.
Trying to extort Aussies, Brits and Kiwi's is never a good idea. It had been particularly wise of her to hide her corruption until the last possible moment. At least in Jordan, that guy had realised that he was outclassed in the attempt to scam some extra cash. This old cow was simply unscrupulous and had even disgusted her little protege.
All said, we had to pay about 400 Rubels. This was significantly less than the old crone had been demanding, and was paid in a handful of instalments. Making her work for it. Finally, we were off of the train.
Making it out the front of the train station, it was 5ish in the morning Moscow time and about 1030AM local time. Anne tracked down our local guide, Eugene. He was a local of asian heritage who would be joining us, with intermissions, across the next few days. Loading us into mini-buses, we were escorted to our housing.
Irkustk is the largest city in region, labelled “the Paris of Siberia”. Making our way from the train station, over the river and along the city thoroughfares, we were all a little too exhausted to pay much attention to the passing scenery until later in the day. The streets and buildings of the city spoke of an older time, the peeling paint combining with the cold to mask the quiet grandeur of the place. Making our way onto the side-streets, the ornate wood carvings adorning the eves and broader walls could be forgiven for fading and cracking. These homes had lived through periods of great change, this ageing was inevitable. There was a fair amount of new construction taking place in the city, I particularly noticed that a lot of the pavement was be replaced or repaired.
Our homestay was in an apartment that had been vacated for our visit. Enjoying a GLORIOUS series of showers and preparing snacks, we chilled out for a couple of hours. Once the other groups had joined us from their accommodation, we embarked on the orientation tour.
Wandering down the main strip and past the park, our local guide pointed out the post-office, super-market and shopping district. To be honest the local guide did a somewhat average job at the tour, we ended out relying on our little maps most of the time. Lunch was in a very little cafe in the basement of a near-by hotel. Chosen by our local guide for reasons beyond our understanding, they had run out on rice, chicken and most other staples. Luck alone guided me to ordering a bowel of soup, most of the guys opting for a pork chop that was delivered undersized, cold and covered in fried egg. My soup cost about $3.50AUD, those who ordered the pork went pale on being charged in excess of $15. At some point during the meal, Anne had left to “converse” with Eugene. He did not return and no-one was impressed.
Wandering through the city, Internet was sourced and utilised along with a supermarket. Snacks were procured and a couple of people sought out souvenirs or other services. Later in the day, we met as a group a little before sunset for a walk along the river/lake. Walking through the fading light, we passed an excessive number of young people spending sunset by the water. Teenagers and young families mingled and socialised on the wall overlooking the river or throughout the narrow park that separated city from water. Turning at a great statue, we passed several university buildings on the way to dinner. In stark contrast to my expectations of a Siberian city, this was a thriving town with a great many young people embracing their opportunities. Dinner was at a traditional Russian tea-house, decorated with red fabric wall-paper and antique items speaking of Russian history.
The tea-house was superb. The food was exceptional and reasonably priced, along with the drinks and later desert. Opting for a beef and vegetable hotpot, it was only a modest portion but certainly sufficient. Serving the table was a very pretty russian girl wearing our first example of a traditional dress. Done up like a Russian Doll, she was absolutely exquisite and charming. Almost the entire group was smitten with her. Originally planning to save a few dollars on desert, one person ordered an icecream dish with a hot-chocolate base. A small avalanche of “one more, please” promptly followed, filling the rest of the table.
Dinner done, the group once again visited the supermarket to ensure a suitable level of snackage. Keeping eyes out for something resembling a nightlife, we found ourselves back at our respective accommodation in desperate need of entertainment. Tonight was simply the wrong night for going out.
The evening finished with us four boys watching American Psycho on Adam's laptop and drinking Russian beer. It had been a good day and we were appreciating a couple of days without trains.
160908 – Russia, Trans-Siberia Railway
DAY FOUR
Today was unanticipated and pretty much unremarkable. Anne gave us a briefing on what would happen tomorrow and we rearranged our gear. Drinks ensued along with meals of instant noodles, a handful of the guys braved the dining car and returned looking a little disturbed. The fare on offer had been... suspect...
Most of the day continued with reading, writing journals, sleeping and cards. I managed to read about some of the history of the railway from someone's Lonely Planet guidebook. Russian history is something I know shamefully little about and may need to read a little about when I get home.
The two cows were particularly “bovine” today. The names and descriptions from the boys cabin now extended into speculation on their actual gender, sexual preference and choice words that we would leave them with on our departure. The degree that these two women, particularly the older one, took “malicious neglect of duties” was phenomenal. To describe them as merely passive-aggressive would be like.. I don't know...
they were... really bad...
Tonight offered what was one of the best babushka stops of the journey. I was able to acquire a bag of dumplings and a bag of hot potatoes for about 150 Rubels. The lovely old lady even walked up to me, about 5 minutes later, checking the temperature of the potatoes. Deciding hers were warmer, she swapped them and then exchanged delighted smiles. She was lovely old babushka :)
The rest of the day passed, we had a fairly early night as there would be a 5 hour time difference the instant we stepped off the train (the trains all run on Moscow time). Tomorrow we would be getting off around 7AM.
I was still surprised at the diversity of the terrain. I'd been hoping at this point to see some of the legendary Siberian Steppes, envisaging great flat planes of desolate grey grassland. Still surrounded by rolling hills, mountains and rural enterprise, a great deal must have changed from the origin of the literature that I'd read.
Today was unanticipated and pretty much unremarkable. Anne gave us a briefing on what would happen tomorrow and we rearranged our gear. Drinks ensued along with meals of instant noodles, a handful of the guys braved the dining car and returned looking a little disturbed. The fare on offer had been... suspect...
Most of the day continued with reading, writing journals, sleeping and cards. I managed to read about some of the history of the railway from someone's Lonely Planet guidebook. Russian history is something I know shamefully little about and may need to read a little about when I get home.
The two cows were particularly “bovine” today. The names and descriptions from the boys cabin now extended into speculation on their actual gender, sexual preference and choice words that we would leave them with on our departure. The degree that these two women, particularly the older one, took “malicious neglect of duties” was phenomenal. To describe them as merely passive-aggressive would be like.. I don't know...
they were... really bad...
Tonight offered what was one of the best babushka stops of the journey. I was able to acquire a bag of dumplings and a bag of hot potatoes for about 150 Rubels. The lovely old lady even walked up to me, about 5 minutes later, checking the temperature of the potatoes. Deciding hers were warmer, she swapped them and then exchanged delighted smiles. She was lovely old babushka :)
The rest of the day passed, we had a fairly early night as there would be a 5 hour time difference the instant we stepped off the train (the trains all run on Moscow time). Tomorrow we would be getting off around 7AM.
I was still surprised at the diversity of the terrain. I'd been hoping at this point to see some of the legendary Siberian Steppes, envisaging great flat planes of desolate grey grassland. Still surrounded by rolling hills, mountains and rural enterprise, a great deal must have changed from the origin of the literature that I'd read.
150908 – Russia, Trans-Siberia Railway
DAY THREE
This morning began with a breakfast of noodles, bread with jam or ham and cheese. Cold and Flu tablets were once again a highlight of the meal. Today was deemed a day “without drinks”, most of the lads seemed a bit under the weather from the effort of yesterday. I'd been taking it very easy, considering the cold and the tablets.
The main feature of today included Anne revealing that she was trained in giving Thai massages, which I took full advantage of, and the revelation of the group that we actually had an additional day on the train..
It had not been entirely apparent and none of us had really realised that we would have four nights on the train. In fact, not many had taken sufficient preparations for the additional night with regard to food.
By this time, we appear to have caught up to the schedule. The extended stops allowed us to get off the train to stretch legs and stock up on food. The little push cart had been a lot more regular today, so there was no shortage of additional instant noodles and bottles of water. The weather outside was cold and drizzling most of the day, venturing out onto the platforms was only performed after rugging up with jumpers, jackets and scarves.
The day passed somewhat unnoticed. I managed to write a bit of my blog and charge my phone before the battery on my laptop died. One last foray for electricity was unsuccessful.
The scenery passing by the window was quite spectacular, Siberia was nothing like what I expected it to be.
Thinking it would be flat, barren and unwelcoming, the countryside consisted of forests and rivers, villages and farms. With very little imagination, and if you ignored the weather, this could very easily be one of several places in Australia.
This part of Russia could be any place that I have been to in America, weather included.
This morning began with a breakfast of noodles, bread with jam or ham and cheese. Cold and Flu tablets were once again a highlight of the meal. Today was deemed a day “without drinks”, most of the lads seemed a bit under the weather from the effort of yesterday. I'd been taking it very easy, considering the cold and the tablets.
The main feature of today included Anne revealing that she was trained in giving Thai massages, which I took full advantage of, and the revelation of the group that we actually had an additional day on the train..
It had not been entirely apparent and none of us had really realised that we would have four nights on the train. In fact, not many had taken sufficient preparations for the additional night with regard to food.
By this time, we appear to have caught up to the schedule. The extended stops allowed us to get off the train to stretch legs and stock up on food. The little push cart had been a lot more regular today, so there was no shortage of additional instant noodles and bottles of water. The weather outside was cold and drizzling most of the day, venturing out onto the platforms was only performed after rugging up with jumpers, jackets and scarves.
The day passed somewhat unnoticed. I managed to write a bit of my blog and charge my phone before the battery on my laptop died. One last foray for electricity was unsuccessful.
The scenery passing by the window was quite spectacular, Siberia was nothing like what I expected it to be.
Thinking it would be flat, barren and unwelcoming, the countryside consisted of forests and rivers, villages and farms. With very little imagination, and if you ignored the weather, this could very easily be one of several places in Australia.
This part of Russia could be any place that I have been to in America, weather included.
140809 – Russia, Trans-Siberia Railway
DAY TWO
Waking somewhat late, with sunlight bearing through the window and the train bouncing about, everyone was a little hung-over and my cold had settled itself in quite comfortably. The day started with eggs and pork as a breakfast dish in the dining car with a side of cold and flu tablets. Liam, Andy and myself made the expedition and braved the somewhat expressive waitress. Glaring as she gave us the English menus (undoubtedly with a great deal of “translation” tax..) with a glare, took our order with a smile, delivered the food with indifference. The meal was better than we expected, but it would have been difficult to mess up. I would have dearly loved some Borsh, but it was on the 5/6ths of the menu that was “not available”. Going to pay, the waitress seemed to have decided that us giving her money was the least pleasant thing imaginable. Letting her keep the 7 rubels from my note rather than depleting her change had the same effect as if I'd convinced the other two lads into using the dining car as an open latrine.
These Russians are weird and make NO sense.
The old cow was absent for most of the morning, the younger of the two handling most of the business and at times even appeared to be scowling less.. At various points in the morning, the Matriarch of all Wenches appeared in curlers and a satin kimono (that would have suited a girl about 10 years younger..) to help with tickets and boarding passengers.
Card games, jokes and stories persisted through the morning. Plans and discussions for the upcoming stages of the trip and the longer journey played as intervals between drinks and games. Lunch came with our forays into noodles and sandwiches. More drinks continued.
At this point, the stops became a little erratic. We found out that we were about 2 hours behind schedule for some reason. The most probable reason was that a 737 had crashed into the lines we'd passed last night. We heard very little, apart from a great many casualties from the plane. We had no other involvement.
The longer stops were cut short at all of the stations that day. Often only stopping just long enough for the Two Cows to buy food, but refusing to allow us to. The brevity of the stop did not stop them from locking the toilets for 30 minutes before or 20 minutes after. Finally we were able to stop and stock up on pastries, local sausage rolls, drinks and sweets. The icecream was as excellent as ever. On the train, the lass with the pushcart had been a little less regular and passed too quickly for us to make purchases.
We had passed the 1100km mark during the night, passing from Europe into Asia. Our hopes to see the monument marking the occasion was missed on account of the failed schedule and lack of warning. Part of the day had clear blue skies as we passed over great bridges and bright blue lakes, the rest of the day featured low clouds and cold weather.
Waking somewhat late, with sunlight bearing through the window and the train bouncing about, everyone was a little hung-over and my cold had settled itself in quite comfortably. The day started with eggs and pork as a breakfast dish in the dining car with a side of cold and flu tablets. Liam, Andy and myself made the expedition and braved the somewhat expressive waitress. Glaring as she gave us the English menus (undoubtedly with a great deal of “translation” tax..) with a glare, took our order with a smile, delivered the food with indifference. The meal was better than we expected, but it would have been difficult to mess up. I would have dearly loved some Borsh, but it was on the 5/6ths of the menu that was “not available”. Going to pay, the waitress seemed to have decided that us giving her money was the least pleasant thing imaginable. Letting her keep the 7 rubels from my note rather than depleting her change had the same effect as if I'd convinced the other two lads into using the dining car as an open latrine.
These Russians are weird and make NO sense.
The old cow was absent for most of the morning, the younger of the two handling most of the business and at times even appeared to be scowling less.. At various points in the morning, the Matriarch of all Wenches appeared in curlers and a satin kimono (that would have suited a girl about 10 years younger..) to help with tickets and boarding passengers.
Card games, jokes and stories persisted through the morning. Plans and discussions for the upcoming stages of the trip and the longer journey played as intervals between drinks and games. Lunch came with our forays into noodles and sandwiches. More drinks continued.
At this point, the stops became a little erratic. We found out that we were about 2 hours behind schedule for some reason. The most probable reason was that a 737 had crashed into the lines we'd passed last night. We heard very little, apart from a great many casualties from the plane. We had no other involvement.
The longer stops were cut short at all of the stations that day. Often only stopping just long enough for the Two Cows to buy food, but refusing to allow us to. The brevity of the stop did not stop them from locking the toilets for 30 minutes before or 20 minutes after. Finally we were able to stop and stock up on pastries, local sausage rolls, drinks and sweets. The icecream was as excellent as ever. On the train, the lass with the pushcart had been a little less regular and passed too quickly for us to make purchases.
We had passed the 1100km mark during the night, passing from Europe into Asia. Our hopes to see the monument marking the occasion was missed on account of the failed schedule and lack of warning. Part of the day had clear blue skies as we passed over great bridges and bright blue lakes, the rest of the day featured low clouds and cold weather.
130908 – Russia, Moscow – Trans-Siberia Express
Broken sleep from the particularly “musical” gent in the next bed, it was a late start in the morning.nDescriptions included sounding like “a chainsaw.. cutting trees made entirely of broken glass”.
Opting to skip breakfast, Denesh and I thought we would go and see Lenin's tomb and possibly make it to Arbatskya, the main shopping street. Heading through the necessary under-pass, we acquired an assortment of pastries from a small bakery stall. Varying from mince to chicken and the most delicious being the lemon, they would hopefully tie us over till lunchtime.
Taking the convoluted route yet again, we made the queue in good time. My mystical belt of Gastronomic Weather had been agreeing with my digestive state, the weather was chilly but clear with no rain, if only yesterday had been like this!
The line to get into the tomb is adjacent to the Kremlin wall, starting in the corner of Red Square. Lodging the knapsacks into the cloak-room, the line progressed at an acceptable rate. Even so, a lady made her way up the line, offering to get us in “no wait, 1000 Rubles”.
ummm... no thanks..
Having gotten through security with nothing more than glasses and keys, Denesh and I made the walk along the Kremlin wall. Covered with name plaques on the wall with associated dates, little monuments with flowers on the green-space separating us from Red Square, we walked but solitary guards. Turning to the right and down a handful of stairs, we entered the mausoleum building.
Immediately plunged into dangerously subdued light and passing by over a dozen guards, we followed a clock-wise direction down into the building. The light guiding our way continually decreasing with no railing on the walls, several of the older visitors were struggling with the shallow steps. Finally turning a last corner, we entered into a large room with a black-marble and glass enclosure in it. Mounting the stairs, now in an anti-clockwise flow, we climbed into view of Vladimir Lenin.
Lenin was in remarkably good condition, considering his age and current state. Reclining in his carefully controlled resting place, he is gently lying as though in a chair. One hand sitting on top of the black blanket, his closed eyes and the darkness of his fingernails were all that gave away that he would not be sitting up and heading off to work after the short nap. That said, his fingernails simply look tar-stained as though from cigarettes, all of his fingernails gave it away as not living. Not as tall as the statues suggest, he was not what I was expecting.
Exiting out of the building and walking to the exit, we left the wall of the Kremlin about halfway along its length. After recovering my backpack, it was obvious that we would not make it to Arbatskya. Making a mad dash of the souvenir stalls, I failed to get another furry black hat or a military cap, settling for a matiashka doll ad a KGB and soviet adorned hip flask. Gifts would be a little light from Moscow, I only hope that I'd be able to stock up at one of the other stops.
Arriving back at the hostel, hurriedly finished freshening up and packing ensued. After sending a last few emails and getting updates that would hopefully last for the next week or two, the waiting began.
Once the entire group had assembled and gotten their shoes on, we ventured out and retraced our steps to the train terminal. In a pure act of selfishness, I briefly diverted to buy another Lemon danish while we went through the underpass. I would be very glad of this little purchase, real food.. TASTY food.. would be scarce over the next few days.
Setting up another refugee camp in the train terminal, we dispersed to purchase an extra bottle of water, cigarettes for some, I stocked up on cold and flu tablets as well as some allergy meds. It seems that the bitter cold and damp of the Kremlin had bestowed a gift upon me.. The next few days could possibly be a little challenging..
The magic words made their way through the PA system, we gathered our gear and made the final distance out the door and the the platform. Once again seeing train engines that looked like they should be towing nuclear launch gear than passengers, we found our carriage and the cranky provinista. We would all come to despise and hate the old cow by the time we got to Irkustk.
DAY ONE
The train car was of intermediate vintage, matching the entire set of carriages. We were in the “hard sleeper”, consisting of two sets of bunks in a small compartment, about 20 compartments to a carriage. I would be sleeping in the top, forward bunk for this leg of the trip. Adam, Andy and Liam were my companions.
Having dumped, stowed or shoved our main packs into the hide-holes and started to discuss music, beers, cards and when we could pull out the Vodka bottles. We'd been warned that the guards would confiscate alcohol on site, softdrink (including beer) would be fine. Crowding into a handful of compartments, the time quickly passed and eventually we were underway.
The first leg of the journey consisted of music, until Adams laptop ran out. Photos through the filthy window and excitedly discussing the upcoming journey. Anne came past and gave us the list of stations we would stop at and at what times, the location of the dining car and etiquette on the train. At the first stop, we cleaned the window and avoided buying snacks from the babushkas on the platform.
The rest of the first day revolved around swapping between compartments and performing various time-wasters. Adam put some SouthPark on until his battery finally died. We played cards and told jokes. As the darkness drew in, instant noodles came out and hot water was utilised from the end of the car. Perishables were the first to get eaten and everyone was in good spirits. As the night rolled on, drinks were plentiful. A little cart passed up an down the train every few hours, we diligently lightened the pretty lasses load by consuming multiples of the beverages. Trips to the dining car were frequent, though the prices were no better and the serving staff were less pleasant.
We also discovered that there was no electricity to speak of on the train. Adam had been unsuccessful in his attempts to charge his laptop, the provonista seemed to delight when she indicated that there was “no power”. The ladies in the dining car put on a huge grin and screamed “NO!! NO CONNECTION!!!” when we asked them, despite the DVD player they had blaring away directly behind them. Dusting off the tiny multi-meter I'd packed, we went around in twos and threes, investigating anything and everything that looked like it might provide power. Finding a minor win, the terminals in the corridor seemed to put out about 60V and was just enough to charge cameras and some of the phones. We would be without music or movies though, which really got everyone down.
On top of no music or movies, it was now that the old cow started to exert herself.
Deciding that our smiling at her, saying hello and offering her chocolate were signs of weakness, the bitter old tart started to arc up. We were perpetually too loud, not wearing shoes, wearing shoes at the magically wrong time, using the toilet at the wrong time or just being “bad”. She seemed to enjoy her own voice, particularly at volume, and must have instructed her younger offsider to behave the same. Initially very pleasant, the younger of the two (probably 22 instead of 30-something) changed her tone a few hours into the journey. Smiles were gone, greetings were not returned, please and thankyous fell on deaf ears. This would be “interesting”... The old tart finally ended the night by slamming the door open, yelling at us in Russian (she seemed to have magically forgotten the bit of english she'd displayed on our boarding), made a “sleeping sign” and slammed the door shut again. We all looked at each other in dismay, laughed and made a few comments that involved animals, her heritage and “personal life”. Still, we shortly decided to call it a night. We'd made our beds earlier that day and it was getting awfully late.
To the rocking and bumping of the train, we fell asleep. Travelling this way was certainly more comfortable and restful that I would have ever anticipated.
Opting to skip breakfast, Denesh and I thought we would go and see Lenin's tomb and possibly make it to Arbatskya, the main shopping street. Heading through the necessary under-pass, we acquired an assortment of pastries from a small bakery stall. Varying from mince to chicken and the most delicious being the lemon, they would hopefully tie us over till lunchtime.
Taking the convoluted route yet again, we made the queue in good time. My mystical belt of Gastronomic Weather had been agreeing with my digestive state, the weather was chilly but clear with no rain, if only yesterday had been like this!
The line to get into the tomb is adjacent to the Kremlin wall, starting in the corner of Red Square. Lodging the knapsacks into the cloak-room, the line progressed at an acceptable rate. Even so, a lady made her way up the line, offering to get us in “no wait, 1000 Rubles”.
ummm... no thanks..
Having gotten through security with nothing more than glasses and keys, Denesh and I made the walk along the Kremlin wall. Covered with name plaques on the wall with associated dates, little monuments with flowers on the green-space separating us from Red Square, we walked but solitary guards. Turning to the right and down a handful of stairs, we entered the mausoleum building.
Immediately plunged into dangerously subdued light and passing by over a dozen guards, we followed a clock-wise direction down into the building. The light guiding our way continually decreasing with no railing on the walls, several of the older visitors were struggling with the shallow steps. Finally turning a last corner, we entered into a large room with a black-marble and glass enclosure in it. Mounting the stairs, now in an anti-clockwise flow, we climbed into view of Vladimir Lenin.
Lenin was in remarkably good condition, considering his age and current state. Reclining in his carefully controlled resting place, he is gently lying as though in a chair. One hand sitting on top of the black blanket, his closed eyes and the darkness of his fingernails were all that gave away that he would not be sitting up and heading off to work after the short nap. That said, his fingernails simply look tar-stained as though from cigarettes, all of his fingernails gave it away as not living. Not as tall as the statues suggest, he was not what I was expecting.
Exiting out of the building and walking to the exit, we left the wall of the Kremlin about halfway along its length. After recovering my backpack, it was obvious that we would not make it to Arbatskya. Making a mad dash of the souvenir stalls, I failed to get another furry black hat or a military cap, settling for a matiashka doll ad a KGB and soviet adorned hip flask. Gifts would be a little light from Moscow, I only hope that I'd be able to stock up at one of the other stops.
Arriving back at the hostel, hurriedly finished freshening up and packing ensued. After sending a last few emails and getting updates that would hopefully last for the next week or two, the waiting began.
Once the entire group had assembled and gotten their shoes on, we ventured out and retraced our steps to the train terminal. In a pure act of selfishness, I briefly diverted to buy another Lemon danish while we went through the underpass. I would be very glad of this little purchase, real food.. TASTY food.. would be scarce over the next few days.
Setting up another refugee camp in the train terminal, we dispersed to purchase an extra bottle of water, cigarettes for some, I stocked up on cold and flu tablets as well as some allergy meds. It seems that the bitter cold and damp of the Kremlin had bestowed a gift upon me.. The next few days could possibly be a little challenging..
The magic words made their way through the PA system, we gathered our gear and made the final distance out the door and the the platform. Once again seeing train engines that looked like they should be towing nuclear launch gear than passengers, we found our carriage and the cranky provinista. We would all come to despise and hate the old cow by the time we got to Irkustk.
DAY ONE
The train car was of intermediate vintage, matching the entire set of carriages. We were in the “hard sleeper”, consisting of two sets of bunks in a small compartment, about 20 compartments to a carriage. I would be sleeping in the top, forward bunk for this leg of the trip. Adam, Andy and Liam were my companions.
Having dumped, stowed or shoved our main packs into the hide-holes and started to discuss music, beers, cards and when we could pull out the Vodka bottles. We'd been warned that the guards would confiscate alcohol on site, softdrink (including beer) would be fine. Crowding into a handful of compartments, the time quickly passed and eventually we were underway.
The first leg of the journey consisted of music, until Adams laptop ran out. Photos through the filthy window and excitedly discussing the upcoming journey. Anne came past and gave us the list of stations we would stop at and at what times, the location of the dining car and etiquette on the train. At the first stop, we cleaned the window and avoided buying snacks from the babushkas on the platform.
The rest of the first day revolved around swapping between compartments and performing various time-wasters. Adam put some SouthPark on until his battery finally died. We played cards and told jokes. As the darkness drew in, instant noodles came out and hot water was utilised from the end of the car. Perishables were the first to get eaten and everyone was in good spirits. As the night rolled on, drinks were plentiful. A little cart passed up an down the train every few hours, we diligently lightened the pretty lasses load by consuming multiples of the beverages. Trips to the dining car were frequent, though the prices were no better and the serving staff were less pleasant.
We also discovered that there was no electricity to speak of on the train. Adam had been unsuccessful in his attempts to charge his laptop, the provonista seemed to delight when she indicated that there was “no power”. The ladies in the dining car put on a huge grin and screamed “NO!! NO CONNECTION!!!” when we asked them, despite the DVD player they had blaring away directly behind them. Dusting off the tiny multi-meter I'd packed, we went around in twos and threes, investigating anything and everything that looked like it might provide power. Finding a minor win, the terminals in the corridor seemed to put out about 60V and was just enough to charge cameras and some of the phones. We would be without music or movies though, which really got everyone down.
On top of no music or movies, it was now that the old cow started to exert herself.
Deciding that our smiling at her, saying hello and offering her chocolate were signs of weakness, the bitter old tart started to arc up. We were perpetually too loud, not wearing shoes, wearing shoes at the magically wrong time, using the toilet at the wrong time or just being “bad”. She seemed to enjoy her own voice, particularly at volume, and must have instructed her younger offsider to behave the same. Initially very pleasant, the younger of the two (probably 22 instead of 30-something) changed her tone a few hours into the journey. Smiles were gone, greetings were not returned, please and thankyous fell on deaf ears. This would be “interesting”... The old tart finally ended the night by slamming the door open, yelling at us in Russian (she seemed to have magically forgotten the bit of english she'd displayed on our boarding), made a “sleeping sign” and slammed the door shut again. We all looked at each other in dismay, laughed and made a few comments that involved animals, her heritage and “personal life”. Still, we shortly decided to call it a night. We'd made our beds earlier that day and it was getting awfully late.
To the rocking and bumping of the train, we fell asleep. Travelling this way was certainly more comfortable and restful that I would have ever anticipated.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
120908 – Russia, Moscow
Waking up as sunlight started to sneak through the edges of the windows, everyone seemed to try and stave off getting up until the last possible minute. Eventually, Anne walked the length of the carriage, telling all of the Intrepid Travellers that we would be at the station in half an hour.
Stripping the bedding and rolling the mattress, the carriage attendant collected the sheets. After the remaining stuffed articles had been lifted to the top bunk, we sat opposite each other. Glaring with sleep-deprived, bleary eyes.
The 30 minutes grew into 45 as we appeared to continue to slow, the attendant had started selling mugs with teabags for the occupants and everyone slowly progressed through the tiny toilet. Not particularly noticing the scenery as it flew by, the trees gave way to housing, industrial, residential and urban.
Finally pulling into the station and lugging our respective burdens, Anne guided us out of the main terminal entrance and down the stairs to the metro station below. Passing out the electronic tickets while we were slouched against the wall, we quickly passed through the barriers and began our descent. Once again featuring the deep escalators and disguised doors, these stations were almost identical to the Metro system in St Petersburg. With one exception.
The Metro stations in Moscow appear to have been considered as some kind of gift to the people. Decorated with great bronze statues, marble halls, carvings and elaborately decorated plaster roofs, the Metro seemed more like a series of opulent halls that you would expect to see somewhere like the Winter Palace. The carved reliefs and mosaics that adorned almost every station on the central lines were not simply a thing of the past. A sign of good faith from the government to the “workers paradise”. Passing by a station that was under construction the next day, great pallets of polished granite and marble were visible in the dim light.
Having spent the first of the five trips that the ticket was valid for, we ascended into the daylight and made the short walk to the accommodation. “Comrade Hostel” is located through a street-level tunnel, past a small courtyard with a children playground, through a non-descript door and at the top of a flight of stairs. If you haven't been shown how to get there, you most probably would not be able to find it. At least there was no elaborate push-button test to get past the door..
Arriving early we were able to leave our bags with Tatta, the very pretty russian girl who was managing the front desk. Everyone had the option to change, shower and have a hot-drink, but we would not be able to check in until the afternoon. After killing about an hour with emails and freshening up, Anne took us out and across the road to the pancake franchise with which we had all become accustomed.
Borsh and Pancakes consumed, Anne guided us on the brief tour of central Moscow. Walking up one of the main streets, we headed towards Red Square. Once in sight, the barricade blocking the historic square came into view. Guiding us through the exclusive shopping mall GUM, Anne pointed out her price-picked eatery for lunch. We would all make our way back there later..
Exiting the mall and trying a second, then a third entrance, it appeared that Red Square and Lenin's tomb were closed Fridays. Making the best of the the situation, we continued on to see the Changing of the Guard at the Eternal Flame. Located beneath the Kremlin wall, this is a monument to Russian soldiers.
We stopped to video and photograph the honour guard as it performed the ceremony. Three men approached, slow marching with legs extending out straight to knee height, heels clipping the ground as they passed and a hand swinging down and then back up to grasp their rifle in time with each step. The metallic click with each pace as they approached was dramatic and extremely impressive. The escorting officer walked along side, a step below them on the adjacent path.
Having mounted the steps to the pool with the burning sentinel at its heart, the three soldiers halted and turned. Standing fast for a predetermined length of time, the two at the front performed a type of “Open Orders March” in perfect synchrony. Turning to their respective sides, they resumed their slow, clicking march to the edge of the monument and turned again to face the guard they were replacing.
With carefully paced timing, the relieving soldier walked the depth of the pool. The guard who had just stood the last hour-watch took two paces forward, out of the little shelter, in perfect timing with his relief. Pausing dramatically just half a pace past each others shoulder, the two soldiers turned their heads about to face each other in the eye. As though to communicate something, the two men paused, before once again facing forwards. The fresh man continued forward, turning and side-stepping, then retreating into the little clear rain shelter. Rifle hitting the ground at attention, there he would remain, immobile, for the next hour.
The men that had just been relieved performed the reverse actions of the new soldiers, reaching the solitary soldier who had remained at watch over the flame. Standing fast in front of the monument, precision timing had the three men turn and leave the dais as one. At the bottom of the 3 or 4 steps, the officer joined them to make the walk back to the end of the long walk-way.
Liam and I had watched and recorded the ceremony with a great deal of awe. Suddenly realising we couldn't see any of the rest of the group, we took of at a rapid pace chasing what we thought was Anne in the distance. Several hundred metres later, Natalie caught up with us and directed us back to the overpass that we had just crossed under. The group was waiting at the top.
Here my student card served me well by purchasing discount tickets to the Kremlin and the Armoury. This little piece of plastic had paid for itself a dozen times over :D
The entrance to the Kremlin was through a security check (we had to leave bags in a cloakroom) with metal detector and then across a bridge. Entering through a series of doors that would once have allowed the segregation of vehicles for searching, we passed through the great red-brick wall and into the heart of Russian Government.
The Kremlin is a Walled off section of the city, a little island that sits at a greater height than the surrounding metropolis. In excess of 10 towers man the great wall and the interior houses a number of churches and cathedrals, the Armoury, the Arsenal and Parliament (which we could not enter). There was a great bell and the Czar Cannon facing across a great paved Parade ground.
Our first visit was the Armoury, which houses a museum of Russian national treasures, the Diamond trust (which we did not enter) and a gift shop in the most heavily fortified section we were able to access. Gas sealed blast-doors at either end of the otherwise exitless bunker guarded CDs and post-cards. The museum itself was extensive and exquisite, rivalling the Hermitage. Containing the worlds greatest collection of silver work and examples of Russian jewellery and art through each era of development, it is a must see for Moscow. Great collections of armour and arms, the thrown of Ivan the Terrible, carriages and clothing, the museum is impressively varied in contents yet carefully balances the quantity with quality. Allowing a wide enough selection of pieces to satisfy experts, yet succinct enough to stop a tourist from uttering “yet another vase”.
Leaving the welcome dry and warmth of the Armoury, we walked back up the hill through the icy driven drizzle to the churches of the Kremlin. Included in the price of admission, we visited at least 4 of these ancient buildings, reading the history and significance of each in turn. Whilst in one, a quartet of singers appeared and entranced the travellers with haunting verses. Reminiscent of Gregorian chanting, we were spellbound for the five minute demonstration, had the CD they were advertising been half the price I would have bought one. Unfortunately, the closer to the centre of power, the higher the prices..
After being thoroughly exhausted of churches and museums, and being mostly drenched through with the light but incessant freezing drizzle (despite the technological wonders of Gore-Tex), we left the Kremlin to head back to into the commercial section. Following the convoluted route back, we made it in good time. Stopping in the shopping centre on the way, I enjoyed a banquet sized lunch with Presh, Shanika and Denesh. Deciding that the weather had successfully vetoed any further exploring,
After finding that Red Square was no longer off-limits, the four of us went to take silly photos of the serious scene. Spelling out RED, I photographed the others. We went and stood in front of Saint Basil's Cathedral (reputedly, Ivan the Terrible had all of the workers executed after its completion such that its beauty would never be surpassed) and Lenin's tomb. Once again feeling cold and miserable, we made our way back to the hostel.
Having showered, changed, charged phones and prepared beds, the group as a whole returned to Red Square for group photos. I succeeded in buying a black furry hat with a Soviet hammer and sickle Star on it. I wore it the whole way to dinner, earning a great deal of looks and smirks by the locals. Feeling self-concious, I took off the badge and seemed to go a little more unnoticed.
Dinner was once again a type of buffet at an underground restaurant called Moo-Moo (spelt My-My). There was another Intrepid group there that would be joining us in Mongolia. Dinner was reasonably priced but unremarkable, the Borsh would have been excellent had it been a little warmer.
Having dried and recovered warmth during dinner, Anne took us on a “Metro Tour”. Consisting of the 7 or 8 most spectacular stations, we hopped on and off the trains to photograph the spectacular decorations and get confused by the conflicting signage.
The final stop of the night was at a discount supermarket, which also appeared to be open all night. Taking this opportunity, everyone stocked up on snacks, instant meals, noodles, chocolates and sweets for the upcoming Trans-Siberian rail adventure. Also using the opening for other "essentials", almost everyone in the group purchased a selection of beer and vodka, in order to avoid the inflated train prices.
There would be at least two chances every day to get off of the train and buy food from the Babushka's (Literally: Grandmother) and their little push-carts and bags. However, there would be some long stretches where the only option would be to use the free boiling water in the compartment or go to the dining car for grossly over-priced and frankly "gross" food. Any fresh or perishable provisions would have to be purchased here, as would tea or hot-chocolate for beverages.
Following Irene's instistance from home, I went halves with Greg for a block of ice-cream. Coming out of the deep-freeze a little squishy, wrapped as a block in foil, we ate it in the corridor as soon as it was paid for.
Russian ice-cream can only be described as "100% Lid Icecream". If you were to take a tub of high-quality ice-cream, peel off the lid and use a spoon to scrape the lid clean. Now imagine an entire block of this creamy, flavourful delight..
Gourging complete, we again boarded the Metro and made our way back to the hostel. Feet tired and thoroughly spent from the long day, bed was of the highest priority.
Stripping the bedding and rolling the mattress, the carriage attendant collected the sheets. After the remaining stuffed articles had been lifted to the top bunk, we sat opposite each other. Glaring with sleep-deprived, bleary eyes.
The 30 minutes grew into 45 as we appeared to continue to slow, the attendant had started selling mugs with teabags for the occupants and everyone slowly progressed through the tiny toilet. Not particularly noticing the scenery as it flew by, the trees gave way to housing, industrial, residential and urban.
Finally pulling into the station and lugging our respective burdens, Anne guided us out of the main terminal entrance and down the stairs to the metro station below. Passing out the electronic tickets while we were slouched against the wall, we quickly passed through the barriers and began our descent. Once again featuring the deep escalators and disguised doors, these stations were almost identical to the Metro system in St Petersburg. With one exception.
The Metro stations in Moscow appear to have been considered as some kind of gift to the people. Decorated with great bronze statues, marble halls, carvings and elaborately decorated plaster roofs, the Metro seemed more like a series of opulent halls that you would expect to see somewhere like the Winter Palace. The carved reliefs and mosaics that adorned almost every station on the central lines were not simply a thing of the past. A sign of good faith from the government to the “workers paradise”. Passing by a station that was under construction the next day, great pallets of polished granite and marble were visible in the dim light.
Having spent the first of the five trips that the ticket was valid for, we ascended into the daylight and made the short walk to the accommodation. “Comrade Hostel” is located through a street-level tunnel, past a small courtyard with a children playground, through a non-descript door and at the top of a flight of stairs. If you haven't been shown how to get there, you most probably would not be able to find it. At least there was no elaborate push-button test to get past the door..
Arriving early we were able to leave our bags with Tatta, the very pretty russian girl who was managing the front desk. Everyone had the option to change, shower and have a hot-drink, but we would not be able to check in until the afternoon. After killing about an hour with emails and freshening up, Anne took us out and across the road to the pancake franchise with which we had all become accustomed.
Borsh and Pancakes consumed, Anne guided us on the brief tour of central Moscow. Walking up one of the main streets, we headed towards Red Square. Once in sight, the barricade blocking the historic square came into view. Guiding us through the exclusive shopping mall GUM, Anne pointed out her price-picked eatery for lunch. We would all make our way back there later..
Exiting the mall and trying a second, then a third entrance, it appeared that Red Square and Lenin's tomb were closed Fridays. Making the best of the the situation, we continued on to see the Changing of the Guard at the Eternal Flame. Located beneath the Kremlin wall, this is a monument to Russian soldiers.
We stopped to video and photograph the honour guard as it performed the ceremony. Three men approached, slow marching with legs extending out straight to knee height, heels clipping the ground as they passed and a hand swinging down and then back up to grasp their rifle in time with each step. The metallic click with each pace as they approached was dramatic and extremely impressive. The escorting officer walked along side, a step below them on the adjacent path.
Having mounted the steps to the pool with the burning sentinel at its heart, the three soldiers halted and turned. Standing fast for a predetermined length of time, the two at the front performed a type of “Open Orders March” in perfect synchrony. Turning to their respective sides, they resumed their slow, clicking march to the edge of the monument and turned again to face the guard they were replacing.
With carefully paced timing, the relieving soldier walked the depth of the pool. The guard who had just stood the last hour-watch took two paces forward, out of the little shelter, in perfect timing with his relief. Pausing dramatically just half a pace past each others shoulder, the two soldiers turned their heads about to face each other in the eye. As though to communicate something, the two men paused, before once again facing forwards. The fresh man continued forward, turning and side-stepping, then retreating into the little clear rain shelter. Rifle hitting the ground at attention, there he would remain, immobile, for the next hour.
The men that had just been relieved performed the reverse actions of the new soldiers, reaching the solitary soldier who had remained at watch over the flame. Standing fast in front of the monument, precision timing had the three men turn and leave the dais as one. At the bottom of the 3 or 4 steps, the officer joined them to make the walk back to the end of the long walk-way.
Liam and I had watched and recorded the ceremony with a great deal of awe. Suddenly realising we couldn't see any of the rest of the group, we took of at a rapid pace chasing what we thought was Anne in the distance. Several hundred metres later, Natalie caught up with us and directed us back to the overpass that we had just crossed under. The group was waiting at the top.
Here my student card served me well by purchasing discount tickets to the Kremlin and the Armoury. This little piece of plastic had paid for itself a dozen times over :D
The entrance to the Kremlin was through a security check (we had to leave bags in a cloakroom) with metal detector and then across a bridge. Entering through a series of doors that would once have allowed the segregation of vehicles for searching, we passed through the great red-brick wall and into the heart of Russian Government.
The Kremlin is a Walled off section of the city, a little island that sits at a greater height than the surrounding metropolis. In excess of 10 towers man the great wall and the interior houses a number of churches and cathedrals, the Armoury, the Arsenal and Parliament (which we could not enter). There was a great bell and the Czar Cannon facing across a great paved Parade ground.
Our first visit was the Armoury, which houses a museum of Russian national treasures, the Diamond trust (which we did not enter) and a gift shop in the most heavily fortified section we were able to access. Gas sealed blast-doors at either end of the otherwise exitless bunker guarded CDs and post-cards. The museum itself was extensive and exquisite, rivalling the Hermitage. Containing the worlds greatest collection of silver work and examples of Russian jewellery and art through each era of development, it is a must see for Moscow. Great collections of armour and arms, the thrown of Ivan the Terrible, carriages and clothing, the museum is impressively varied in contents yet carefully balances the quantity with quality. Allowing a wide enough selection of pieces to satisfy experts, yet succinct enough to stop a tourist from uttering “yet another vase”.
Leaving the welcome dry and warmth of the Armoury, we walked back up the hill through the icy driven drizzle to the churches of the Kremlin. Included in the price of admission, we visited at least 4 of these ancient buildings, reading the history and significance of each in turn. Whilst in one, a quartet of singers appeared and entranced the travellers with haunting verses. Reminiscent of Gregorian chanting, we were spellbound for the five minute demonstration, had the CD they were advertising been half the price I would have bought one. Unfortunately, the closer to the centre of power, the higher the prices..
After being thoroughly exhausted of churches and museums, and being mostly drenched through with the light but incessant freezing drizzle (despite the technological wonders of Gore-Tex), we left the Kremlin to head back to into the commercial section. Following the convoluted route back, we made it in good time. Stopping in the shopping centre on the way, I enjoyed a banquet sized lunch with Presh, Shanika and Denesh. Deciding that the weather had successfully vetoed any further exploring,
After finding that Red Square was no longer off-limits, the four of us went to take silly photos of the serious scene. Spelling out RED, I photographed the others. We went and stood in front of Saint Basil's Cathedral (reputedly, Ivan the Terrible had all of the workers executed after its completion such that its beauty would never be surpassed) and Lenin's tomb. Once again feeling cold and miserable, we made our way back to the hostel.
Having showered, changed, charged phones and prepared beds, the group as a whole returned to Red Square for group photos. I succeeded in buying a black furry hat with a Soviet hammer and sickle Star on it. I wore it the whole way to dinner, earning a great deal of looks and smirks by the locals. Feeling self-concious, I took off the badge and seemed to go a little more unnoticed.
Dinner was once again a type of buffet at an underground restaurant called Moo-Moo (spelt My-My). There was another Intrepid group there that would be joining us in Mongolia. Dinner was reasonably priced but unremarkable, the Borsh would have been excellent had it been a little warmer.
Having dried and recovered warmth during dinner, Anne took us on a “Metro Tour”. Consisting of the 7 or 8 most spectacular stations, we hopped on and off the trains to photograph the spectacular decorations and get confused by the conflicting signage.
The final stop of the night was at a discount supermarket, which also appeared to be open all night. Taking this opportunity, everyone stocked up on snacks, instant meals, noodles, chocolates and sweets for the upcoming Trans-Siberian rail adventure. Also using the opening for other "essentials", almost everyone in the group purchased a selection of beer and vodka, in order to avoid the inflated train prices.
There would be at least two chances every day to get off of the train and buy food from the Babushka's (Literally: Grandmother) and their little push-carts and bags. However, there would be some long stretches where the only option would be to use the free boiling water in the compartment or go to the dining car for grossly over-priced and frankly "gross" food. Any fresh or perishable provisions would have to be purchased here, as would tea or hot-chocolate for beverages.
Following Irene's instistance from home, I went halves with Greg for a block of ice-cream. Coming out of the deep-freeze a little squishy, wrapped as a block in foil, we ate it in the corridor as soon as it was paid for.
Russian ice-cream can only be described as "100% Lid Icecream". If you were to take a tub of high-quality ice-cream, peel off the lid and use a spoon to scrape the lid clean. Now imagine an entire block of this creamy, flavourful delight..
Gourging complete, we again boarded the Metro and made our way back to the hostel. Feet tired and thoroughly spent from the long day, bed was of the highest priority.
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