Central Mongolian Trek, Part 3

For day three we had decided to get an early start. We were on our way to White Lake, and our itinerary had us passing a gorge and volcano on the way, and we wanted to take our time seeing these marvels of nature. By 7.30 the sun hadn't had ample time to heat up the drum that provided water, but my morning shower afforded me a chilly wake up...something I would get used to over the next months. Upon exiting the shower shack, a herd of horses walked by the wooden fence that surrounded our encampment, I did mention i was in Mongolia, didn't I? By half past 8, we were on the 'road' again, taking turns sitting up front in the van, which felt more like a rusty rollercoaster, with it's ups and downs, quick turns and ever present feeling that at any moment it would end up on it's side. But Baira had our complete trust, and at certain moments rewarded us with thrilling maneuvers that brought us to places where the other vans feared not tread...One in particular stands out. We were caravaning with two other groups heading to White Lake, and at one point faced a mountainous hill. The other two vans followed the dirt tracks the circumnavigated the monster, but not Baira. He hit the gas full on, and launched our sturdy vessel straight up the hill, deciding he was going to forge a new track that perhaps some future driver would have the balls to follow. His effort was not lost on us, the magnifiscent views clearly worth the risk of breaking down in such an isolated spot. And as we rolled down the other side, we caught vague glimpses of the other two vans, now seemingly 50 km in our wake, and cheered our proud leader.

Soon we neared the gorge, and had prepared to have a picnic lunch rather than the mutton or goat that was usually offered by the local eateries(usually a small home in which a precious mongolian lady would serve up home-cooking to make a few bucks off of the occasional traveller). The evening before we had visited a small grocery in Tsetserleg, and had picked up some fruits and veggies, bread, and some tins of tuna. Unfortunately the weather didn't cooperate this day, and a short but heavy downpour thwarted our efforts. We ended up getting shelter from a lovely mongolian family, who shared with us home made (sour!!!) goat cheese in exchange for some of our fruit. After the rain had passed, we made the last few kilometers to the gorge. We approached with breakneck speed, crossing well over the tire tracks that ran along the side of the gorge, and made an abrupt stop, landing mere meters from the edge, and the possibilty of a fantastic 30 meter plunge to our fiery deaths.

I'm convinced that Baira is the best (or worst) driver in all of Mongolia! We each went off in our seperate directions to take in the beauty of the cliffs leading to a river below.

Not quite the Grand Canyon, but beautiful just the same. I wandered a bit away at one point to get some shots of a massive herd of goats and sheep that was approaching, and I was soon swallowed up in this enormous wave of mammality.


The next stop was Khorgo Crater, a volcano with a 200 meter high cone. We took a walk up to the top, and then circled around the rim, from which you get awesome views of the dried lava fields with White lake in the distance.

We saw two crazy Mongolian teens scampering down the steep, pebbly inner walls to the bottom of the crater, and Bjorn got an idea..why don't we head down there too? An idea I never would have had on my own. The girls wanted no part of this plan, and even Sandro, after making it down the first quarter or so, turned back. Slipping and sliding, hands torn up by having to catch my fall on the coarse stones, I finally got to bottom.

There were ovoos and gifts to buddha everywhere, clearly not a few make it this far, but that didn't take anything away from my feeling of accomplishment. The only problem that we faced now, was getting back to the top....
A 30 minute ride later and we were at our destination, the volcanicly formed White Lake, sitting at an altitude of over 2000 meters. Tired and sweaty from our trek at Khorgo, we decided a swim was the best medicine. The down side? The lake water was a frigid 14°C (57°F). Bjorn, Sandro and I stripped to our undies and dove in to the fresh purity of the pristine isolated lake under the eyes of the dumbfounded locals. Refreshing to say the least.

It was a long, and wonderful day in central Mongolia. To cap it off we shared a bottle of Genghis Khan vodka with the drivers and I went to bed...but not before emptying my bowels in the first mongolian outhouse that actually had a white, plastic 'toilet' seat...oh happy day!

Central Mongolian Trek...part 2

Day 2....
We woke up early for day 2 as Baira was going to take us to see an important monastery complex at 10, and we wanted to get some hill hiking done beforehand. It was another beautiful day and we had heard about a so-called turtle rock that lay on top of one of the surrounding hills. We figured out which way to go with the help of our ger 'home'.

The entrance of the ger always faces south and our guide book had explained the turtle rock's location in reference to the monastery. We headed off in hopes of a successful 'treasure hunt'. We passed many rocks in different shapes that could have been the one we were looking for, but we quickly deemed our hunt as unimportant as the views provided as much satisfaction as a hill climb could give. After a while though we started to see some vans parked in a remote hilltop and decided to investigate. As we approached we saw many mongolian women selling souvenirs and knew we had found the spot. The rock is carved in the shape of a turtle, with many blue buddhist flags, vodka bottles and horse skulls left nearby as 'gifts'. We took a few pictures and headed back down to the van and a waiting Baira.

The monastery was quite old and important, however most of the original structures had been destroyed by the communits during the 'purge'. The ones that remained were mostly restructered, but our free guide did a good job of giving us a wide range of info about the different incarnations of Buddha, and the symbols that i would see over the next 3 months in other temples.

We stopped for a mid-morning ice-cream to combat the 90 degree heat and jumped back in the van for the drive toward tsetserleg, about 200 km away.
Once again we chatted away in the van, often staring out the windows, admiring the sights...all of a sudden Sandro pleaded Baira to stop the car immediately, with loud shouts of 'stop, stop, now, stop'. Sandro had had a bad stomach since arriving from Beijing, and I figured he needed an emergency bathroom break. Instead he had spotted a sight on the side of the road that blows me away even to this day. There were two freshly severed horse heads sitting about 10 feet from the road. Sitting calmly by their side was a 2 foot tall eagle, swiveling it's head side to side, either deciding how to start his meal or searching for other birds from which he might have to defend his find. Welcome to Mongolia, I thought.

We asked Baira why horses would have had their heads cut-off, and he had no answer for us. Horses seem to be the most sacred creature in all of Mongolia, and this sight seemed way out of place, but it will have to remain a mystery. Maybe it's better that way.
After a dollar lunch of Khuurshuur(mutton pancakes) and potato and carrot salad and a few hours of driving we arrrived at our second camp in the town of tsertserleg.

After dropping off our bags the 5 of us took a walk into the town center, along the way receiving many a 'hi-ya' from the local towns children. The highlight of the town is a buddhist temple on the top of a hill at the north end of the town. A long moderately steep stair case led us to the temple and a very tall statue of buddha that stood in front of a beautiful rocky cliff as a backdrop.

Bjorn and i took a climb up the rocks, half way up the cliff, and looked out on another stunning view. The town of Tsetserleg surrounded by iconic mongolian hills.

After a stop at an internet cafe...10 cents an hour, we stopped in a local bar for a cheap beer served by pre teen girls listening contently to Britney Spears songs....and thought...globalistaion has arrived in Mongolia, and it's not pretty....:)

Central mongolian trek...Part 1

August 1st....After a day of wandering around the city center of Ulan Baatar, visiting the ganden monastery for opening prayers; walking through suhkbaatar square admiring the statue of Genghis Khan; avoiding crazy drivers; I felt i had seen enough of UB and was ready to head out into the magical Mongolian countryside.

Sandro, Bjorn and I awoke early in the morning to prepare our bags for our 9 day trek, that would include trips to the ancient capitol of Khorkhorin, the White Lake, Khovsgal Lake, a volcano, and a gorge. These were some of the places listed on the itinerary for which we paid $25 a day. $25 that would buy us our transportation (a russian van from the early 90's), our driver (a soft spoken Mongolian named Baira), our accomadation(authentic Mongolian ger tents), and 3 meals a day. But it was the unexpected experiences that would truly define the trip.
Day 1: At about 7:30 am, Sandro, Bjorn and I headed down stairs to load our gear into the van, where we met our driver Baira, a man who said little but smiled lots. At this point we were joined by the two other people who would complete our group. Yu mi and So yung, 2 girls who were from the same city in Korea but had only met the day before in their hostel. Our first stop was the supermarket for supplies...the absolute essentials....water, instant noodles, and snickers bars. Our second stop was at the gas station, to load up the van and emergency cannisters. Towns are few and far between in mongolia, running out of gas is not a good situation to find yourself in. It was soon half past 9 and we were finally free of the UB traffic jams and out on the open road....which would quickly turn from concrete to dirt and grass.

There is only one real paved highway in Mongolia, built by the russians during the years of their communist influence, the rest of the time well built vans and jeeps attempt to follow the ruts left behind by their predecessors.
As we hit the open road, we got to know eachother a little bit better, sharing brief summaries of our life stories, while staring out the window at the vastness of the plateau. Every so often hearing Baira honk the horn to scare a herd of some animal out of the road...sometimes goats, sometimes sheep, sometimes horses, all of which quickly obliged.

The cows, however, caring little about the risk of being struck, and stubburn as they were, forced us to kindly go around them.
One of the great views from the van were the countless birds of pray that circled over head. Eagles, hawks, falcons and the occasional vulture all searching for their next meal, generally the small rodents that popped in and out of tiny holes that dotted the fields. Sometimes it seemed that they were following our path, gliding along directly over us, like dolphins follow boats in the sea.
Our first day was also the longest drive. 8 hours. Which brought us to the town of Khorkorin. A small town built on the location of Genghis Khan's ancient capitol which disappered long ago. It was about half past 4 when we arrived at our first night's camp. We were warmly greeted in english by our first host and shown to our ger. After being advised that our dinner would be served at 6:30, we looked at the amzing rolling green hills that surrounded us, and calculated which one we would be able to reach and return from in the 2 hours we were afforded. We strapped on our walking shoes and headed to enjoy a simply stunning panorama.

The path we took led us up a small hill then down a surprisingly deep valley that had been hidden from our sight by the incredibly deceiving landscape; up a second hill; down a second valley; then finally up to the peak we had pre-selected as our destination. There we found a series of ovoo, piles of stones created by buddhist monks to serve as holy sites, each with a worn away path encircling it, as it is customary to walk around it in a clockwise motion 3 times.

At most of these monuments, pilgrims had left behind small gifts to the buddha...small denominations of money, tiny bottles of vodka, and some random items such as crutches, old shoes and even animal skulls.
The monuments caught our interest, but it was the stunning views that captured our attention. Green hills and forrested mountains under a bright blue endless sky. Breath taking, awe-inspiring, choose any cliche adjective.

We could have stayed there for hours admiring the scene. But dinner time was closing in and we didn't want to offend our host but most importantly we were eager for our first home-cooked Mongolian meal. Arriving at the camp we met our host's 9 year old daughter who was playing a form of dodgeball with her friends.

We, being young at heart, asked to join them and they happily accepted. Another easy lesson of how many similarities can be found between 2 cultures that seem so different. We sat down in our ger for a nice meal of Mongolian mutton dumplings and played cards until midnight. It would be the latest we stayed up throughout the trip...

Welcome to the real 'big sky country'...

JULY 30th, 2009
WOW! That is the best word to describe the ageless land known as mongolia. Home to the greatest conquerer the world has ever known, and tremendous source of national pride...Ghenghis Khan! Endless plateaus, rugged mountains, pristine lakes, unforgiving deserts. And the people...many of them holding onto a traditional lifestyle that can best be related to the plains indians of the american west. Herds. Herds of Camels in the hundreds. Herds of horses in the thousands. Herds of goats and sheep in the tens of thousands. Each roaming across the land, blackening patches of the green grass that covers it.
...After crossing the border from Russia into Mongolia, the bus headed down towards the capitol city of Ulan Baatar, and it's population of 1.5 million. An impressive figure when you realize the entire country, which is the size of the american southwest, contains only 2.7 million. As we arrived on the plateau with the hills in the background, I spotted my first herd of horses carelessly grazing off in the distance. I struck up a conversation with a mongolian woman who had lived a short time time in the states. She tried to prepare me for what to expect of the only real Mongolian city. All her warnings weren't enough...people use the word chaotic for Milan, for New York, let's get serious folks, compared to 'UB' these places have the tamed organization of a small Swiss village. Cars everywhere...on the road, on the side walk, on the grassy patches, on top of eachother, this may be a result of the fact that the inhabitants treat the three traffic lights of UB as if they were christmas decorations (UB maybe the only place in the world that uses traffic cops when the lights are actually functioning, and the drivers ignore them just the same!) We arrived at the bus station in the mid-afternoon, and the woman was nice enough to offer me a ride from her husband to the hostel that i had booked a few days earlier. Upon entering the hostel, I was accosted by the manager, insisting i jump on a jeep trek as soon as possible...again no rest for the weary. I explained that i needed to 'sleep on it' and went off to meet my roomies...a brit(sandro) and a swede(bjorn). They had just arrived from beijing and were as tired as I, but after a brief discussion we joined together with 2 Korean girls to organize a 9 day jeep trek through central and north Mongolia, that would be leaving 2 days later. After a rest, i headed out into the concrete jungle of Ulan Baatar to search for some famous Mongolian cooking (joke). Arriving at the hostel exit, I read the notice on the back of the door..."PLEASE DON"T STAY OUT AFTER MIDNIGHT, THIS CITY IS NOT SAFE".... and I thought to myself...What the F@#K????

turka/lake baikal 2

July 28th and 29th. I had been offered by Tanya an opportunity to return to lake baikal, this time as a guest in a homestay, with a siberian family in the coastal village of Turka. It would be a 3 hour minibus ride through the mountains to the village, where i could find the home using a rudimentary, hand-drawn(by tanya herself) map. I left the hostel at 7am and headed to the city to find my bus, which proved to be more difficult than i expected. The 'bus station' was little organized, after securing my ticket i wandered around the hordes of travellers hoping to understand where i should be waiting. Luckily, a man who spoke a few words of english struck up a conversation with me, and happen to be heading to turka himself. Unluckily, he was totally wasted, and disregarding the seating assignments, instisted on sitting next to me. The next hour was a bit annoying, having the man continuously trying to hold a drunk conversation with me, using basically two phrases.... the first being "no, i don't", which he used after anything he said in russian (apparently he doesn't do much), the second "you my friend" which he used every time i showed my disinterest in the first. The teens in the seats behind my were entertained at first, but after a while their amusement descended into pity, for which of us, though, i wasn't sure...After consulting with the bus driver about where to disembark, Tanya's map actually was clear enough to lead me to my destination. The home was about 200 meters downstream from a river that flowed from the lake. A truly stunning location. I arrived just in time for a delicious home cooked lunch of potato soup and sausage rolled in cabbage leaf, and met the other guests, a russian family from western siberia. Through hand gestures, a dictionary, and my limited knowledge of russian, i accepted an offer from my host to be driven to a beautiful, secluded beach on the lakeside.I took some sun, and then when the time was right, my first dip in the pure water of baikal. It didn't last long..although it was the most refreshing water i had ever felt, it was also, at 16 degrees celsius(60 farenheit), the coldest i had ever felt. I took turns, 20 minutes in the sun, 20 seconds in the water...the reflections of the hills on the opposite side(30 miles away) reflecting off the mirrored surface. After being picked up 3 hours later, i enjoyed another home cooked meal, and walked along the riverside to watch the sunset over the lake, as a beautiful array of colors turned the sky from blue to black.The next morning i was awoken to the sounds of the breakfast bell for a plate of sausage and eggs. As i opened the door to my cozy room (for which i paid 22 dollars, 3 meals included) i was greeted by the father of the russian family, which dormed next door, holding a long fish, which he had just caught in the river...kind of ruined the surprise of what was being served for lunch...At around 10, the russian family and I were accompanied back to the beach. Not being able to converse much with them, i decided to walk down the shore a few miles. In about an hour's walk i met maybe a dozen other bathers, enjoying the solitude and peace and watching the sand's shade transform from golden to auburn to black...Later in the afternoon, i bid my hosts goodbye and boarded the minibus back to Ulan Ude, which we reached safely despite the harrowing experience of a flat tire, and thanks to the skillful maneuvering of our driver.A fitting way to bid farewell to a wonderous nation, as i was to catch a bud to Ulan Baatar, capital of the amazing country of Mongolia, the next morning.

ulan ude

The woman from the hostel, tanya, spoke limited english, but enough to get by with her guests. She ushered me out of the train station where her driver was waiting in a mini-van. We headed through the city, where I was shown the most important monument, a huge stone sculpture of Lenin's head (measuring about 20 feet high), and the main square from which i could find the minibus back to the hostel when i would be venturing out on my own. The hostel was a three story, wooden house in a small village about a 15 minute drive out of the city. It was surrounded by about a hundred other smaller wooden houses, surrounded by wooden fences and pastures for grazing cows, very cozy, if not a bit old west.In the afternoon, I caught the minibus(40 cents) and had a walk around the surprisingly modern city center. Not much to look at, apart from the riverside parks and beautiful surrounding hills. I briefly stopped in an internet cafe at the end of the pretty pedestrian-only shopping district, where a young man asked me from where i came. When I answered America, he just smiled and said 'Obama'. It's amazing how people react to meeting Americans these days, justifiably different from years past where i might get a scowl and 'damn that Bush'.Early the next morning I was served a lovely egg breakfast by Tanya, and headed 20 km out of town to see my first big buddhist monastery. Since this time I have seen about 30 more, so please understand if my writing is not so enthusiastic, but at the time it was a wonderful experience. I spent about 2 hours walking around the grounds, in and out of temples beautifully adorned with golden colored statues of the different buddhas. It being my first time in a buddhist monastery, i was terribly naive about the proper etichette of visiting such a place. I was 'scolded' by the monks on a few occasions. Things to remember: always walk clockwise around the inside or outside of temples and grounds; don't keep your hands behind your back; and never take photos inside without expressed permission. I decided to walk back to the bus stop, bypassing the cheap minibuses that run between it and the monsatery. It was 7km, distances can be deceiving when there are few landmarks. It was hot, humid, and the insects were a nuisance, but it also gave me the opportunity to walk through the countryside. The cows were my only companions, the crickets my soundtrack, the fields and rolling hills my view. The only unsettling thing was the confounded look of the minibus driver as he passed me every 5 minutes....

china crack down

It took my alot of work to get to the site and get this post up, china is really cracking down for their big 60th anniversary week, i'll hope to have new posts about mongolia within a week, but no pics can be uploaded on the site! i'll be in china for the next 3 to 4 weeks, as soon as i get to my next destination (vietnam), i'll have more access....

train to ulan ude

Jonas and I headed out around 6:30am to catch the tram to the train station, it would have been a 15 minute walk, but because the tram cost only 40 cents, it seemed the ideal alternative. We picked up some supplies, noodles, cookies, bottled water...just enough for the 8 hour ride to Ulan Ude in the Buratiya province of Russia. Buratiya is a semi-autononous region that is predominantely buddhist, buratyans have a distinctively asian look to them, easily differentiated from the ethnic russians who have european features. The region is split more or less 50-50 between the two groups. Jonas however was heading to Vladivostok, on the pacific ocean and the russian terminus of the trans-siberian railroad, he had about 3 days of travel ahead of him. We spent most of the time chatting and playing different card games that we taught to eachother. After about two hours we hit the highlight of the ride, and the reason why i was travelling by day instead of overnight...The train hugs along the southern coast of Lake Baikal for about 100 kilometers, giving perhaps the most incredible view I've ever had from a train (and i've been on too many trains to count)! The lake at this point seems it's clearest and gives the most gorgeous reflection of the hills and sky that lie above it. Hopefully I'll be able to post some pics of this soon, as I've found some glitches to using proxy servers in China. We were lucky enough to have the train stop at one point which afforded me the oppurtunity to take some photos without the blurriness that comes with the train's movement. Jonas and I stood at the window for some time and just soaked in the panorama.
The train ride was pretty fun as we also had some interaction with our russian carriage mates. Across from us was a man, his wife and infant daughter. They were travelling with many large damp boxes and crates, Jonas and I were wondering what could be their contents, and after striking up a (limited) conversation with the man (who knew about 10 words of english:), we soon found out. He sensed our curiosity and opened the lid on one of the boxes to reveal....thousands of strawberries!!! Occasionally his little girl would reach in, take one out, and hand it to either Jonas or I. We obviously accepted the gifts with pleasure, and without hesitation took some bites...without any doubt the sweetest and most flavorful berries I've ever eaten in my life...and without doubt freshly picked from the forest. Now you can easily understand why I regret not buying them back in Irkutsk,
Later on, three boys, aged between 7 and 9, came to watch us play cards. They had been studying English in school and were very eager to show off what they had learned. They told us their names (forgotten) and where they were from, they counted for us...vun, too, tree...and tried out other small phrases. They were quite interested in America, and knew of Obama, George W, and when i showed them a one-dollar bill, they easily recognized 'George Washington, first American president' a piece of knowledge, i'm afraid to say, is probably lacking from more than a few American kids of their age. Suffice it to say, I was impressed. The kids basically hung around us for the majority of the ride, and even taught us a few russian phrases...the unforunate thing in all this was that the super-hot russian chick sitting next to us didn't speak a word of english, and because of this was not social at all... but at least she presented us with a nice view (to compliment the lake ;).
As we approched Ulan Ude I began to think about how I would find accomodation. You see, the night before I had called a hostel trying to book a bed, but the man on the line didn't speak any english, although it was clear I had reached the right number. I decided to write an email to the place to inform them of my arrival time and inquire about their free train station pick-up, but as of my departure from Irkutsk, i had received no reply, and had been unable, for obvious reasons, to check my mail again. However my concern turned to surprise...after deboarding the train, I stood on the platform for a minute to say goodbye to Jonas and the russian kids, and as i did this a woman came up to me and inquired 'matthew?', i guess once agian my backpack gave me away! She was the administrator from the hostel, she had received (and replied to) my email, and was there to pick me up! These little unexpected pleasures are the certainly some of the best reasons to venture around the world....

Irkutsk-Listvyanka(Lake Baikal)

July 23rd, 2009...The 31 hour train ride to Irkutsk (and lake Baikal!!!!) was mostly uneventful, there weren't any english speaking people in my vicinity, so i passed the time doing crossword puzzles and listening to my ipod. During one of the stops I deboarded for a bit to stretch my legs and loaded up on some home made russian treats from the babushkas on the platform. A bag of Vareninkis, some russian meatballs, a liter of water and a 1/2 liter of beer...paid about 4 dollars. Spent a lot of time looking out the windows at the endless forests of trees, mostly birch, which are a source of pride (and
important resource) for the siberians. While i was in Novosibirsk i had set up a homestay in irkutsk, because the hostel i wanted was fully booked, But when i arrived in the city (at 7 am) i decided to head to another hostel near the station to
check their availablity, and sure enough they had a bed for me. I felt bad ditching the homestay, but i'm sure they could find someone else, and i wanted to meet other travellers anyway. The hostel had the basic anemities, a clean-ish bathroom, kitchen with free coffee and tea, and a 6-bed dorm room. I had breakfast with some brits, got some info about the city and lake from them, then headed out solo to see irkutsk. I walked for a few hours along the riverside, then through some backstreets which were filled with old wooden mansions that now seemed mostly delapidated on the outside, but certainly kept some of the charm and elegance from days past. I walked past the main church, and up a steep hill to try to get a look at the city, but the view was mostly blocked by trees. I then headed to the city centre, which is dominated by 3 huge markets...the outdoor chinese market, the huge (indoor and outdoor) food market and the indoor shopping center. The chinese market, as expected, was chaotic and full of clothes and knick-knacks. The indoor food market was excellent. A massive supply of meats, cheeses and desserts...i grabbed a russian style kabab from one vendor and headed outside. Siberia, having a great supply of forests, also has a great supply of forest fruits...BERRIES, BERRIES and more BERRIES. It seemed that every stand at the outdoor market was selling huge cups of little strawberries and blue berries! Stupidly, I didn't buy any...something i now totally regret! I called it an early night, having arrived so early on the train, and planned to go to Lake Baikal the next morning.
I had contacted a girl named Marina through couchsurfing, and we were supposed to visit the lake together. But about 15 minutes before our scheduled meeting time, she bailed on me because of a toothache. So I boarded a minibus for the 1-hour ride to Listvyanka, a small touristy town on Lake Baikal. At about 10 am i got my first glimpse of Lake Baikal...a seemingly endless, glass like surface of some of the world's freshest water. In fact, Baikal is the world's deepest lake reaching a mile down at it's center, imagine the grand canyon completely filled with water...and it holds 20 percent, yes 20, of the world's non-permanently frozen fresh water. Unfortunately i found myself at baikal on a cool, cloudy day. Swimming in it would have to wait. I walked along the coast for about half an hour to a point where the wooded hills met the water, passing the camp grounds where russian families paid 2 dollars to pitch their tents and along a narrow dirt path that hugs a 30-or-so foot drop to the lake below. I decided to have a hike up into the forest to get a better view of the lake, and because my fear of heights was getting the better of me on the cliff. At one point the trees clear to an open patch of land
containing an observatory (2 silo-like structures used, presumably, to watch the skies). I tried to open the steel doors, as a climb to the top would afford me a grand view of Baikal, but unfortunately they were closed. The great thing, though, about this clearing was the amazing amount of buttterflies swarming around. It felt like being in the bronx zoo butterfly exhibit, but without the huge net keeping the butterflies inside. The absolute best part...i was completely alone...A short while later i ventured back down to the lakeside, and as i walked along i noticed a group of russians singing folk
songs, accompanied by a man on guitar. I gave them a small applause at the end of the tune, and they, taking notice of me, shouted something in russian. I explained that i didn't speak russian, which seemed to be the magic words, as the next thing i knew they enthusiastically called me over to join in the fun. They first offered me a sip of 'juice' or so the box read...but i came to find out it was filled with wine! Not expecting this, i let a few drops dribble down my chin, which caused the group to laugh and a woman to shove a half-eaten nectarine in my mouth!! When in Russia....
Actually during my 26 days in russia i did see quite a few stereotypical drunks in the streets, but as this was saturday, and they seemed like working class people, i figured they were just unwinding on the lakeside. I stayed with them for a few hours, sipping wine, eating amazing smoked omul (a lake-dwellling cousin of the salmon, and a delicacy of baikal), and listening to their songs. At one point they even made me sing some beatles tunes. When they decided to switch from wine to vodka, i decided i had had enough (after doing one shot...can't offend the hosts in russia!) and we bid goodbye with strong
russian bear hugs. I completed my walk along the lake, about 15 kilometers total, and caught the minibus back to Irkutsk around 5pm.
I spent the evening cooking pelmini (russian meat dumplings) at the hostel and chatting with teddy (english) and jonas (german). I found out that jonas was leaving on the same train as me in the morning...I to Ulan Ude and He to Vladivostok. So
we planned to go to the station together...at 7am...an early start.

map update

i'm having some technical difficulties, please copy the link below and paste it as web address above...

http://maps.google.com/maps/ms?hl=en&gl=us&ptab=2&ie=UTF8&oe=UTF8&msa=0&msid=110087376724794924774.00046d83e27421193854b

update

blogspot is one of the sites blocked by the chinese government, but i have just figured out how to get around the 'great wall'. so i will be updating the site soon. by the way Beijing is frickin awesome!

reading guidlines

remember to read bottom up, starting from the last post you read!

Yuri and Alya (novosibirsk)

So, in the last post i had just got off the train in Novosibirsk, siberia. My intention was to arrive in Tomsk, about three hours away by bus, to visit some old wooden mansions. But during the train ride, i met Yuri, who got off with me, and lived about a half-hour outside Novosibirsk. He didn't speak more than a few words of english, but with the help of Alex, convinced me to come visit his home town of Birdsk, which he said was just as nice, and he even knew a cheap hotel for me to stay in. Not wanting to think too much, nor arrive in a strange city at midnight, i followed him out of the train station. He kept trying to explain something to me and i kept on not understanding, and we kept on smiling, and so our commmunication progressed in this manner. Then out of nowhere it started to torrentially downpour, a hard cold siberian rain! He ran, I followed, as we reached an underpass he told me stay still, so i stayed still as he ran off somewhere to find a taxi. When he came back, he said to me in english 'go?', and i replied with a shrug, and he smiled and so our communication progressed. The wind had picked up and was blowing the rain sideways into my bags, so i decided to pause a moment to cover up my important articles. At that moment, Yuri turned to the first person he saw and asked if they spoke english. It was a girl named Alya, and just our luck, she did and very well indeed! Infact she was heading home from work to birdsk! So we decided to take the taxi together. After an hour in traffic caused by a fallen tree, and some nice conversation with Alya, we arrived in birdsk, Yuri payed for the taxi (no arguing with siberians!) and invited us to have dinner in a nearby restaurant (his treat again, i as his guest, Alya as his translator).
After dinner, Alya went home, but agreed to meet with us the next day, again to serve as Yuri's translator. Yuri brought me to a hotel, which I paid 22 Euro for a deluxe sweet, complete with bedroom, lounge and private bath. The only catch was that it had to be done in Yuri's name, because the hotel (like many in the area i later found out) refuses to book foreigners who don't use a booking agent. Thank goodness for Yuri!
The next morning Yuri showed up at my room at 8.30, beer in hand...a pattern set for the next 4 hours(for him only, water was my drink of choice), and we began a walking tour of his town. Alya, having to work, couldn't make it, but promised to meet me later in the afternoon in Novosibirsk. Yuri showed me the town center, some old wooden houses typical of siberia, the new orthodox cathedral, an interesting ww2 memorial and the beach (actually on a man made lake that covered the old town of birdsk, the current town was built by the soviets in the 20's). By the end of the morning, our communication had improved, i had learned a bit of russian, and he had remembered, possibly with the help of the beer, the little english that he had learned at school. At noon, he explained that his wife (yes he was married, and even had a newborn baby) needed him at home, and he sent me off on a train back to Novosibirsk.
Upon arrival, i bought my next train ticket, leaving that night at 11pm for a 31 hour ride to Irkutsk, stored my bags, and although it was drizzling in the city and since i had not much else to do, i set off, umbrella in hand, to see the sights. Unfortunately, in Novosibirsk, apart from a beautiful opera house(bigger and more impressive than the bolshoy in Moscow), and a giant statue of Lenin, there are no sights. So I sat down for a cup of tea, and waited for news from Alya.
Finally around 6pm she was free from work and we met for dinner at a nice sushi restaurant. Alya is a really friendly, intelligent and interesting girl. Very easy to communicate with, as we spent hours in frank conversation. After dinner, glad that the rain had subsided, we took a stroll through the city center. We stopped briefly for coffee and desert, her treat. (amazing how generous these siberians are) We took the subway together until out lines split, and said our goodbyes, hoping to keep in touch. I was sorry to have spent such little time with Alya, as i really would have liked more time to get to know her. We exchanged messages for a week or so after, but i haven´t heard from her since...so Alya, if your reading this, make yourself heard!

new poll.

so, i didn´t take your advice on the last poll, and have stayed 26 mostly wonderful days in mongolia (which i'll be blogging about soon enough, if google isn't blocked in china), tomorrow i'm leaving for china (if my visa application is accepted, i´ll find out tomorrow)..so i expect to stay one month in china, visiting beijing, shanghai, xian(terracotta soldiers), and chongqing(where guy's cousin lives) and one other place...what should it be?

38 hours on the trans-siberian

2.30 am, july 20th....Ravil, being ever helpful, accompanied me all the way to the train platform. My destination would be Novosibirsk, a 38 hour ride past Ekaterinaburg, through the Ural mountains and into the Asian continent. I 'checked in' with the carraige matron, carried my bags on board, then joined ravil outside for a final chat and goodbye. The train was coming from Moscow, and the stop in Kazan was for about 45 minutes, so many of the weary travellers came out onto the platform for their various reasons; to have a smoke, to get some fresh air, to pick up some fresh food or just to stretch their legs. Two of these, upon hearing my english, approached me with a friendly greeting. Their names were Eugene and Alex. They were from eastern Ukraine, and on their way to Siberia with two other friends (sleeping inside the train), to do some extreme hiking. Alex spoke very good english, and Eugene's was sufficient to carry a good conversation. Their beds were in the same carriage as mine, a few compartments down. As the train prepared to leave they invited me to join them for a chat and and a drink, not being very sleepy, I accepted. At around 4am, i headed to my bed assignment and bid them goodnight, agreeing to meet them again for breakfast.
I had had some mental images of the train-siberian railroad, i expected to see alot of old russian men, half drunk on vodka, painstakingly making a 5000 mile journey across a depressing landscape for god knows what reason. What I found, though, could not have been more different. First of all, all beds are assigned, and all passengers ticketed by name and passport numbers. This made it impossible for non ticketed people to board our carriage, as every person was allowed entry only after a screening by the matron. The matron is the (usually) woman who takes care of an individual carriage. She gives the sheets, opens and closes the bathrooms, gives tea mugs, snacks or whatever a passenger needs. She also protects the carriage from intruders (with the help of onboard police, if the situation warrants) and scolds ignorant foreigners when they don't understand what to do. They are often mean looking, and meaner sounding (but as i don´t speak much russian, how would i know what they are saying), unless you`re lucky enough to find a young one. All this makes for an extremely safe, somewhat comfortable setting.
I was travelling 3rd class, which meant each compartment was open (no door-no privacy) and contained 6 beds during the night, room for 6 seats during the day. But the train had a wonderful communal feeiling to it, and was filled mostly with families, older women, and young backpackers. Even the ones who knew no english, attempted to reach out to you, showing at least some interest in your life story, where you came from, and how you ended up sitting next to them. Being from New York helped, as it is a place everyone knows and seems to have great admiration and respect for.
My sleep was comfortable, and i woke up around 11am the next morning. I washed my face in the bathroom sink and went down to find the Ukrainians just preparing breakfast. There i met the others travelling with Eugene and Alex. There was Tatiana, who spoke no english, and Olga, who pretended not to, but i could tell she could understand almost everything i said. The other two people in their compartment were sisters Olga and Olona on their way home from Moscow to Omsk. They didn´t speak english either, but through Eugene I expressed how upset I was that Jaromir Jagr had left the NY Rangers to play hockey in Omsk, and they told me how he had become almost a god there. They shared with me a cucumber and tomato salad, some ukrainian meats and cheeses, and I offered some tatar cookies and fruit. Sharing seems to be an important theme when travelling the trans-siberian.
For the next 12 hours or so we ate, drank, chatted, listened to music (i had my ipod with small speakers to enjoy in the compartment) and they taught me a Russian card game called 'Durak' that helped pass the time. The train would stop at each major city along the way, alowing us to go down to the platform, where old russian ladies were selling fresh homemade delights, such as vereniki, pelmeni, meat cutlets, smoked fish, fruits veggies and drinks.
One of the the stops was Ekaterinaburg, the first big city after the Urals, which marked my arrival in Asia!! You can see a photo of me on the platform in my pics link.
That evening we dined together and passed around the cliche bottle of vodka, toasting things such as Russian cuisine, railroad travel, rain clouds and human beings. Around midnight I settled in to my second night´s sleep.
Early the next morning, we bid goodbye to Olga and Olona at Omsk, and greeted the new compartment mate, Yuri, of whom I will write in the next blog.
The train then passed through the endless green forest that is Siberia, until we stopped at a small siberian town called Barabinsk, where (ukrainian) Olga's grandmother lives. They had a short yet joyous reunion, and Olga was given a huge bag of homemade russian delicacies. We had a hearty lunch of meatballs and bliny (cheese filled crepes).
We played some more cards, shared some more stories, and shortly after 7 pm we arrived in Novosibirsk. We bid eachother goodbye, and because they had to keep the weight of their packs down, Olga packed me a large bag of her grandma's home cooking...lucky me!