Russian Hospitaility

As I'm writing this I'm mid-way through the longest single leg of my Trans-Siberian rail journey, traveling from Irkutsk to Moscow. A journey of four continuous nights on the train and a five-hour difference in time zones, all the while sharing a "soft sleeper" cabin with three other passengers. This is the train ride my little one and two night overnight trains through Vietnam, China, and Mongolia have been preparing me for.

And it's hard for me to put into words what an experience it has been. On the surface it's just a long train ride, but that doesn't begin to do it justice. The train itself and the incredible, beautiful, unending snow-covered landscape that unfolds before us is just the stage for the show. The real experience comes from the people I've met and the real-life movie that I've become part of.

Although I expected passengers to get on and off the train during the journey, I didn't really think how that would effect my experience. for some reason I expected to spend the whole journey with basically the same group of people. Instead I've shard my cabin with seven different people so far, and I still have two nights to go. Two of the bunks in my cabin are currently empty, and each station we stop at is a lottery about the possibility of new roomies.

As I write this now, a little girl from the next cabin (aged maybe 2) keeps popping her head into my cabin and waving to me. When I wave back she bursts into laughter and waddles back to her dad out in the corridor. Even the quiet times are interesting here.

When I first got on this train in Irkutsk, I had the cabin to myself. Normally this might be a good thing to have some space and privacy, but the prospect of four days alone is enough to drive anyone mental, and I didn't come here to just be a spectator anyway.

But I needn't have worried, About 2 hours later I got my first visitors; A young Russian couple in their early 20's named Pasha and Nastja traveling with Nastja's mother; Tatyana.

Neither Nastja nor Tatyana could speak a word of English, but Pasha's English was pretty good. Certainly good enough to have some decent conversations and learn about his home and talk about Australia, etc. They come from a small town of 500 people near Tomsk, and the main source of income for the people there is a coal mine. Tragically in May this year there was an accident killing 17 of the workers who live in the town.

I spent my first night with these quiet yet friendly people. They were happy to chat but also kept to themselves a bit. I think they perhaps didn't quite know what to make of me, but were still hospitable and polite, if a little serious. As well as chatting I had plenty of time to read and listen to music and relax by myself. This was a good easing into things without being thrown into the deep end.

They did seem to appreciate my terrible attempts at speaking Russian from my little phrase book. Tatyana was in fits of laughter!

They left the train the following afternoon and for the next few hours I had the cabin to myself again, in fact the whole train seemed pretty empty.

Then we arrived at a fairly big station and while my cabin still had three empty beds, I heard people move into the cabins beside me.

Soon after I noticed a young woman standing out in the corridor gazing out the window while she charged her mobile phone (there are power sockets in the corridors). She saw my cabin was empty and asked if she could join me. I soon discovered why she was so keen - the people she was sharing a cabin with next door included the same 2 year old child that has been popping her head into my cabin as I write this entry, except last night she was crying her head off and her parents were trying to get her to sleep.

So Ksacha and I spent the next few hours chatting in my cabin. She has a job designing nails (as in decorative fingernail designs), but is also studying English at university. This meant her English was excellent and it was so refreshing to be able to have an in-depth conversation where we could actually discuss complex things without running into language barriers. These moments have been few and far between over the last month, so I take them when I can. We only spoke for a few hours but discussed many things including music, politics, photography and travel. Her father is a portrait photographer, and although she is studying English to become an interpreter, her heart is more in music and the arts, so she's having second thoughts about her career.

Then we pulled into another big station and the trans-sib lottery dealt me up some new cabin-mates and condemned poor Ksacha back to her cabin of infant noise hell for the night.

I went out into the corridor to make room while my three new cabin-mates moved into their bunks. There was a man aged about 30 traveling alone, and a man and wife couple in their 40's. I wasn't quite sure how this was going to pan out, but things soon became very clear when I walked back into the cabin and Alestar, the guy traveling alone, pulled out a bottle of cognac and plonked it on the table, followed by Andrey and Tatiana with the bread, cheese, pork, and tomato. The best I had to offer was some decent chocolate and some mixed nuts. It was going to be one of those nights.

And so it began. The most memorable yet a bit hazy night of my trip so far, sharing a cabin with these wonderful people.

Alestar is a fireman while Andrey is a military doctor and his wife Tatiana is his assistant. I'm not sure what rank Andrey is, but I get the feeling he's a pretty highly-ranked officer. He and Tatiana have been together 15 years, since he was a luitenant. He is now 48 and has had many promotions since then but I couldn't understand the specifics.

The language barrier presented it's ever-present head throughout the night, but that proved to be half the fun. Communication just became a hilarious drunken game of charades/pictionary. It didn't really matter.

After the cognac, a bottle of vodka appeared from somewhere. Then we stopped at a station and Alestar disappeared and came back with some Russian champagne. Then finally when the champagne was gone and Alestar had gone to bed, Andrey and I continued on beer while Tatiana stuck with tea.

You couldn't imagine a more lovely couple than Andrey and Tatiana. The most warm, friendly, unassuming, patient, down to earth and kind people you could hope to meet. And to be having a night like that in the context of a train traveling across Siberia is an experience money just can't buy. That alone makes a trip like this worthwhile.

My little 2 year old friend just poked her head in the door again, but this time the train lurched and she banged her head on the door frame. It ended in tears instead of laughter. Maybe that's the end of that game.

I should point out that on this train, time doesn't work in the normal way. My journey from Irkutsk to Moscow spans a five hour time zone difference, so at any point we are just somewhere in between Irkutsk time and Moscow time, but nobody really knows where and it doesn't really matter anyway. The whole Russian rail system works on Moscow time, so I just set my watch to that so I can at least keep track of where we are when we arrive at a station and I look at the schedule. But it's been dark outside for hours and my watch says it's only 4pm, so it makes no sense to try to live by Moscow time until I get to Moscow.

So Andrey and Tatiana left the train just before I started writing this entry, and Alestar is getting ready to leave at a stop soon. I wonder who my next companions will be?

And my little friend is back waving at the door. It seems it takes more than a bump on the head to keep her out of action. They breed 'em tough in Siberia.

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Location:Somewhere on the Trans-Siberian Railway, Russia

Who kutsk? Irkutsk!

When I was planning this trip, Irkutsk was just another dot on the map. Everybody's heard of Siberia and knows it's huge, remote, and full of snow. We've heard about how inhospitable it can be and seen glimpses from storybooks and Bond movies. But can you name a city in Siberia? No? Neither could I before this trip.

Well, Irkutsk is a name worth remembering. It's been one of the unexpected highlights of my trip, and a fantastic way to greet Europe. And let's be clear here, Irkutsk might be closer to Beijing than it is to Moscow, not far from the Mongolian border, geographically still part of Asia, and home to a sizable Mongolian and Chinese population, but the moment I stepped off the train there was no doubt I had left Asia behind. This unmistakably feels like Europe, and is also unmistakably Russian.

I was surprised how dramatic the change was. As I've been traveling north from Saigon, through Vietnam, China, and Mongolia, of course I've noticed the gradual change in climate from muggy 30c daily temps down to -20c and more. For some reason I expected the cultures to change as gradually as the climate. I expected the customs and people to be a bit "blurred at the edges" of different countries. This couldn't be further from the truth. Crossing each border has been like flicking a switch when it comes to cultures.

But getting back to Irkutsk. This is a beautiful, modest, unassuming little city that feels much smaller than it actually is, and is thick with character and charm.

With each arrival in a new city for me, that first taxi ride from train station to accommodation is always crucial for developing a first impression of that city. There have only been two taxi rides so far where I've had to keep pinching myself to convince me that I'm not dreaming. Shanghai for it's sheer scale and the awesome engineering feat that is the entire city, and now Irkutsk for being a living, breathing, authentic small city that truly belongs in a story book. It doesn't beat it's chest and try to tell the world how good it is (well maybe Lake Baikal does a little bit, but not Irkutsk itself), it just gets on with life. I realize I'm not traveling during tourist season, but in the four days I spent there I didn't see anyone who didn't look like a local, or hear any language apart from Russian that wasn't associated with me in some way. This place feels undiscovered by tourists. I'm sure it gets busy during the summer months, but I actually don't understand why foreigners would come to Russia during summer anyway. If you go to Siberia, you need snow. Why else would you come? And ever since I left Beijing I've had the best weather I could hope for. Cold, with plenty of snow in Russia, but bright sunny still days that are perfect for walking around in. The only thing the weather prevented me from doing is going for a swim in Lake Baikal.

Everything I hoped to be true about Siberia really is true. Gorgeous forests, frozen lakes, ornate wooden cottages huddled together, and snow. Lots of snow.

And then there's the people. I know a few Russians back in Australia, so I figured I had a fair idea of what to expect; perhaps a bit of a cool reception when first meeting people, but once the ice is broken they tend to open up and become very friendly and warm.

Of course I shouldn't stereotype because everyone is different, but there are certainly cultural trends that change when you cross borders.

Ordering food has been fun. Sometimes I get a waiter or waitress who speaks english and is an amazing help (giving me in-depth descriptions of dishes, etc), other times I get put in the too hard basket and basically ignored. I can't say I blame them. If I'm lucky I might know the main ingredient (meat, chicken, fish) of the dish I'm ordering, but that's about it. I think the trick is finding a quiet restaurant where the staff aren't busy and more likely to be patient. This might go against the golden rule that the best restaurants are the busiest, but at least you're more likely to get something you actually want.

I did find two excellent restaurants in Irkutsk. The first one was part of the biggest classic Soviet-era hotel in town, and was going for a nice "high-class seedy" vibe (think Leisure Suit Larry) featuring nice 80's mood lighting, plush carpets, a low-slung dress on the singer accompanying the backing CD, and Sveta the waitress wearing a dress so impossibly short it would break a dozen health and safety regulations in Australia.

I ordered salmon and caviar (and beer) and received some beautiful smoked salmon crepes with sour cream and a huge serving of the most delicious caviar I've had in my life. I never understood the appeal of caviar before now, but this stuff was insane and there was enough for me to gorge myself.

I haven't even mentioned where I'm staying yet! Instead of a hotel, I'm staying in a home stay with the wonderful Sergey and Olga, and their lovely and very entertaining little grand-daughter Paulina. This makes a nice change from staying in hotels, and the advice they gave me (along with Lena from Aqua-Echo in Irkutsk) has been invaluable and really helped me make the most of my visit here.

For anyone traveling the Trans-Siberian route, Irkutsk should definitely be a place to hang around for a while. Don't expect a buzzing night life, but if you want somewhere cruisey and interesting to relax and break up the journey then you won't be disappointed.

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Location:Irkutsk, Eastern Siberia, Russia

Exiled to Siberia

Well the good news is I made it into Russia ok. Only time will tell if I make it out so easily. Filling out seven different forms during the border crossing (where we stopped ALL DAY) gave me my first taste of Russian beaurocracy. I'm sure there'll be plenty more where that came from.

Within a couple of hours of entering Russia I've already been asked not to take photographs by three different officials (in different locations, it wasn't like I kept going back trying to get the same photo over and over). Admittedly there were a bunch of military trucks and soldiers at the station, but I was being careful not to take photos of anything sensitive like customs or immigration areas. Ok maybe I snuck one photo of the soldiers, but I didn't get caught taking that.

But what else was there to do except take photos? When I woke up this morning about 7am we were already stopped at the Mongolian border checkpoint where we did the customs thing and stayed until about 10am before moving on. I got a shock when I got off the train to find our carriage had been left stranded alone while the rest of the train had taken off on some other route during the night.

Then when we did move, it was only 10 minutes up the line to the Russian checkpoint where we stopped again until 4:30pm! Considering sunset happens around 5:30pm, I didn't get to see a lot of the countryside from the train. What I did see during the remaining hour of sunlight was spectacular though.

There wasn't a lot of snow to see in Mongolia (it did start snowing the night I left), but so far there's been plenty in Russia. Snow everywhere and dramatic skies, wide open plains and frosty rivers, villages scattered every once in a while with dodgy old Russian cars, even dodgier old Russian men, and sometimes a conspicuous military presence. The rickety old villages are full of wonky wooden houses with beautiful ornate colourful window frames. Occasionally there'll be cattle, horses or dogs wandering around aimlessly. This is the Siberia from the storybooks.

Within minutes of getting off the drain and wandering around the Russian border station, I was approached by a dodgy looking old guy with a big grin full of gold teeth who was looking for a bit of conversation. He didn't want his photo taken but was quite happy to take photos of me standing in front of the train station.

Onwards to Irkutsk, my first destination in Russia. A city of about 600,000 located near the shores of the huge Lake Baikal, Irkutsk is a centre for research and culture in eastern Siberia. It's also famous for it's old ornate wooden houses. During the communist purges, many intellectuals and artists were sent into exile to Irkutsk, to the point where up to 1/3 of the population were people in exile. This is one of the reasons it became a city that punches above it's weight when it comes to research.

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