Latvia was a great experience. We spent five nights in Riga, the stag party capital of Europe. Ryanair flies direct to Riga from London, ferrying fat middle-aged men to the party capital of the Baltics to drink themselves silly before one of them gets married. Young Dutch boys made up the rest of the clientele at our hostel, Friendly Fun Franks, complete with guided pub tours and 24-hour bar. Here we met the first Australian since Mongolia; Phill was stoked to talk about the footy. The pub tour took us to four authentically un-Latvian bars, including the Kiwi Bar (owned by the elusive Friendly Fun Frank), a Belgian beer bar, and, obviously, an Irish bar. The night ended with Phill hiding in bed begging not to go on the club tour - that night anyway.
In Riga we partook in a popular walking tour with Zane, a student. She showed us interesting sights and told us when to look up for the things we would otherwise have missed. The streets of Riga old town are cobbled and thin. Turn any corner and you will find a church, and don't forget to look up for maximum effect. The intricate art nouveau facades gave us sore necks and exhausted the 'cool buildings' quota on our camera (and, no doubt, Facebook as well). Our tour ended with amazing Latvian food at Lido - a chain of restaurants with traditional Latvian food for locals and tourists alike. Boy can those Latvians do potatoes.
After five nights and lots of beers at the hostel, we jumped on the bus for four hours to Kolka, the most North-western part of Latvia, where the Gulf of Riga meets the Baltic Sea. The bus took us through the seaside resorts where Latvians chill out, and small fishing villages with their fair share of old people, Kolka included. Having not booked accommodation, we wandered the street (non-plural) looking for Usi farm, the only address we could find on the Internet (the address - Usi, Kolka, Latvia). A huge campground, an old farmhouse and one room for rent - luckily it was available.
Kolka is part of Slitere national park and has a whole network of hiking, cycling and bird-watching routes. We chose the cycling, on bikes with no gears and back pedal breaks. So much for extreme mountain biking. We rode for about 7kms along the beach, sand flat-packed with the rain and constant drizzle. We saw no-one on the beach, just a few old tractors waiting for boats to come in. When we came to a small creek flowing into the Baltic we headed inland, got lost, got a little bit scared, but eventually found a track to follow. The ground was spongy with moss and intermittent ponds and lakes from all the melted snow. The track took us through centuries old fishing villages and past old soviet army barracks and through ridiculous amounts of deserted forest. Eventually we came back to the beach, had a picnic, Phill got naked, and rode the 20kms back to Kolka along the road, stopping every 3kms for a Snickers.
Back to Riga for one night, then off again to Sigulda, about one hour west of Riga and in the Gauja river valley and national park. We couch surfed for the second time, with a French girl, German girl, and Spanish guy, all European volunteers in the park and at schools. Like in Kolka, there were great walking tracks and maps for the national park. The first day, we followed the river south through the forest. There was a luge park and a bungy jump thing and a Tarzan adventure park...but we stuck to the walking. Had a lovely picnic on a sandy bank and basked in the warm weather. Walked back through fields and meadows of tulips...awwww...
That night we went for drinks with our couch surfing hosts. The boys made a triumphant return at 5am, when the sun is already high in the sky. The next day we trecked along the river to the Turaida castle, 800 years old, and managed to sneak into the massive castle manor complex by taking the hard road uphill. Nothing like a free manor. We splurged on the cable car to cross the river and admired the old woman with the massive nose whose job it was to open the door, take some money, close the door, and enjoy the ride over the valley.
Back to Riga for another Saturday night, another group of stag parties at Frank's and another pub crawl. Latvia made a good impression.
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Friday, May 7, 2010
St. Petersburg
St Petersburg is one of those cities where you can walk about for ages and be impressed at every street corner. And this is what we did. Our hostel, Nevsky Hostel, was one of the best we've stayed in. It was super clean, had a washing machine to use for free, a big kitchen, bunk beds that didn't squeak and was almost within spitting distance of the Hermitage (if all those buildings weren't in the way. We knew some guys staying there that we met in a ger in Mongolia so it was good to catch up with them and swap stories about our Trans-Siberian journey.
Of course, such a rendezvous also meant a night on the piss. We sampled local beers and dodgy vodka at our hostel before going to a club...I think it was called Cuba, with Tyler (Canadian), Theago (Brazilian) and two Russian girls those guys had met. The bar was tiny and absolutely packed (lucky I wore my hiking boots; my feet got trampled) but was good fun to rub shoulders (literally) with St Petersburg's youth. Needless to say, it was a big night and we paid for it the next day; in bed until 4pm.
Once we ventured outside, we turned a corner, and, voila, another awesome church - The Cathedral of the Spilled Blood, built on the sight where Tsar Alexander was murdered. It was modelled on Saint Basil's Cathedral in Moscow, but just a little bit cooler for the canals and parks around it. We also visited Kazan Cathedral, a working cathedral where people lined up to touch and kiss icons and pray with Orthodox priests. It's pillars are impressive and arc out to envelop the people of St Petersburg. Riiiiigggghhhtttt... Beggars stood out the front hoping people felt generous after being absolved. We didn't.
On Sunday we crossed the Neva River (on a bridge) to Vasilevsky Ostrov, an island with a mad
fort, churches and museums. We bypassed the gym on a ship and walked the exterior of the fort. Sand lined the banks of the river - swimming was not allowed - and old Russian men and women leant against the walls of the fortress in speedos, mankinis, bras and undies, catching some sunrays and possibly coughs and colds as the wind was still biting. Gold church spires shone against the approaching storm, which would hopefully hit the sunbathers before us.
We walked through some gardens with green grass and trees almost blossoming.
Of course, such a rendezvous also meant a night on the piss. We sampled local beers and dodgy vodka at our hostel before going to a club...I think it was called Cuba, with Tyler (Canadian), Theago (Brazilian) and two Russian girls those guys had met. The bar was tiny and absolutely packed (lucky I wore my hiking boots; my feet got trampled) but was good fun to rub shoulders (literally) with St Petersburg's youth. Needless to say, it was a big night and we paid for it the next day; in bed until 4pm.
Once we ventured outside, we turned a corner, and, voila, another awesome church - The Cathedral of the Spilled Blood, built on the sight where Tsar Alexander was murdered. It was modelled on Saint Basil's Cathedral in Moscow, but just a little bit cooler for the canals and parks around it. We also visited Kazan Cathedral, a working cathedral where people lined up to touch and kiss icons and pray with Orthodox priests. It's pillars are impressive and arc out to envelop the people of St Petersburg. Riiiiigggghhhtttt... Beggars stood out the front hoping people felt generous after being absolved. We didn't.
On Sunday we crossed the Neva River (on a bridge) to Vasilevsky Ostrov, an island with a mad
fort, churches and museums. We bypassed the gym on a ship and walked the exterior of the fort. Sand lined the banks of the river - swimming was not allowed - and old Russian men and women leant against the walls of the fortress in speedos, mankinis, bras and undies, catching some sunrays and possibly coughs and colds as the wind was still biting. Gold church spires shone against the approaching storm, which would hopefully hit the sunbathers before us.
We walked through some gardens with green grass and trees almost blossoming.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Moscow
Weather-wise, Moscow gave us a warm welcome. It was about 15 degrees and sunny when we got off the train, the warmest weather we had had since Malaysia, six weeks earlier. We found our hostel, 'Home from Home Hostel' and were told our double room had been flooded, and were given two dodgy beds in a dodgy dorm room. The Lonely Planet had recommended this place, but our Bible had let us down. They had spent lots of money on decorating the place with tactile wallpaper and original artworks. But that doesn't help when you're worried about death from electrocution from the dodgy power points, or that the chubby little Russian on the top bunk will fall through, or that the shower won't drain and the toilet won't flush, or you will die from suffocation when you do a number two in the tiniest space-ship toilet cubicle. And when the staff don't know how to use the credit card machine, and look like they might keel over from malnutrition at any moment (EAT SOME BEEF YOU SKINNY UNHAPPY LITTLE WOMAN!), it's not the most relaxing environment.
Luckily we had recovered from our devil colds on the 56-hour train trip (Phill credits the vodka), and were able and willing to walk around all day. Better still, the lovely weather meant we were able to crack out the thongs for a dinner time stroll.
We explored Red Square and the Kremlin. St. Basil's Cathedral is amazing, like an architect just went 'hang it, I'm going to go a bit crazy with this one'. There's multi-coloured onion domes with gold trimming and pointy bits like those spoundgey balls you used to play soccer with in primary school (before graduating to an actual soccer ball). The cathedral was closed so we couldn't go inside. Red Square was a hive of activity. Men were setting up stages and banners and seating for Victory Day, May 9. Lenin's mausoleum was closed (getting him all pretty for V-day no doubt) so we ventured into the Kremlin, expired student cards doing us proud again. They had their trophies from wars with Napoleon - 800 canons - surrounding the bit we weren't allowed in...which we found out when we got whistled at (and not in a good way) when trying to cross the road. There's a whole bunch of churches within the Kremlin walls and all have a very extensive history... Google it while I have a break from blogging...
Luckily we had recovered from our devil colds on the 56-hour train trip (Phill credits the vodka), and were able and willing to walk around all day. Better still, the lovely weather meant we were able to crack out the thongs for a dinner time stroll.
We explored Red Square and the Kremlin. St. Basil's Cathedral is amazing, like an architect just went 'hang it, I'm going to go a bit crazy with this one'. There's multi-coloured onion domes with gold trimming and pointy bits like those spoundgey balls you used to play soccer with in primary school (before graduating to an actual soccer ball). The cathedral was closed so we couldn't go inside. Red Square was a hive of activity. Men were setting up stages and banners and seating for Victory Day, May 9. Lenin's mausoleum was closed (getting him all pretty for V-day no doubt) so we ventured into the Kremlin, expired student cards doing us proud again. They had their trophies from wars with Napoleon - 800 canons - surrounding the bit we weren't allowed in...which we found out when we got whistled at (and not in a good way) when trying to cross the road. There's a whole bunch of churches within the Kremlin walls and all have a very extensive history... Google it while I have a break from blogging...
56 hours on a train
Russia is a stupidly big country. It's 17,075,400 square kilometres. That's 11.5 % of the earth's total surface. Australia is 7,692,024 square kilometres...and Australia's big. Obviously you can fly from one side to another, but what's the fun in that. The final leg of our Trans-Siberian journey was the longest, from Tomsk to Moscow. It was 2, 878 kms long, and took 56 hours. On a train.
So far in the journey we had only taken second class, because that's all that was available. Third class, platskart, is the way to go though. It is an open carriage, with four bunks on one side, and two on another. It cost about $120 each for two nights on the train. It was a brand new carriage, spick and span with lovely sheets...
For the first night, our train seemed to be full of old babushkas hiding under their blankets snoring. There was a young guy opposite us, and an older lady who kept fidgeting. It got annoying after eight or so hours. There was an awful lot of looking out the window, a fair amount of reading, and some serious rummy playing for good measure. I won my first (and only) game of cards at about 29 hours.
On our second night, a whole bunch of Russian guys got on. They were brothers, brothers in law...all sorts of complicated relationships even more complicated because they couldn't speak English and we had only our Russian phrasebook. As the only foreigners in the carriage, we got their attention, and especially when we brought out our bottle of vodka. We were given some smoked pig's lard to snack on - surprisingly delicious after a shot of vodka. With our phrasebook, we concluded that we were all friends, Siberia is extreme, Alexi's mother is German and his wife is Victor's sister, and Australian vodka is no good. Victor's younger brother Sasha was either drunk or had a hearing impediment as he would yell in our faces, very loud Russian, and we would just have to nod away. The men would pack into the space between carriages to smoke while I would...wait...Phill succeeded in out drinking the Russians before having a decent train spew and passing out (on the lower bunk). The brothers got off in the morning, and we had the day to while away our hangovers.
We arrived in Moscow about 4.30pm and negotiated the metro system during peak hour. 9.5 million people ride the metro each day, but we were those annoying two people with the backpacks, cramming into the crowded carriages and leaning over everyone to see the tube map. After the luxury of a sleeping berth in a brand new carriage with everyone just relaxing to the motions of the choo-chooing, the metro was a chaotic welcome to Europe.
So far in the journey we had only taken second class, because that's all that was available. Third class, platskart, is the way to go though. It is an open carriage, with four bunks on one side, and two on another. It cost about $120 each for two nights on the train. It was a brand new carriage, spick and span with lovely sheets...
For the first night, our train seemed to be full of old babushkas hiding under their blankets snoring. There was a young guy opposite us, and an older lady who kept fidgeting. It got annoying after eight or so hours. There was an awful lot of looking out the window, a fair amount of reading, and some serious rummy playing for good measure. I won my first (and only) game of cards at about 29 hours.
On our second night, a whole bunch of Russian guys got on. They were brothers, brothers in law...all sorts of complicated relationships even more complicated because they couldn't speak English and we had only our Russian phrasebook. As the only foreigners in the carriage, we got their attention, and especially when we brought out our bottle of vodka. We were given some smoked pig's lard to snack on - surprisingly delicious after a shot of vodka. With our phrasebook, we concluded that we were all friends, Siberia is extreme, Alexi's mother is German and his wife is Victor's sister, and Australian vodka is no good. Victor's younger brother Sasha was either drunk or had a hearing impediment as he would yell in our faces, very loud Russian, and we would just have to nod away. The men would pack into the space between carriages to smoke while I would...wait...Phill succeeded in out drinking the Russians before having a decent train spew and passing out (on the lower bunk). The brothers got off in the morning, and we had the day to while away our hangovers.
We arrived in Moscow about 4.30pm and negotiated the metro system during peak hour. 9.5 million people ride the metro each day, but we were those annoying two people with the backpacks, cramming into the crowded carriages and leaning over everyone to see the tube map. After the luxury of a sleeping berth in a brand new carriage with everyone just relaxing to the motions of the choo-chooing, the metro was a chaotic welcome to Europe.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Couch Surfing in Tomsk!
The train trip from Irkutsk to Tomsk was uneventful. We shared a four-berth with an old lady (who reminded me of Mrs a, my year five teacher) and her granddaugher who very kindly let us use bottom bunk during the day - we had he two upper bunks. Luckily we slept alot, and didn't have a midnight border crossing for once! We passed farms and villages with wooden houses falling down and sinking in the marshy fields, and a village surely for midgets - the huts must have only been one room. We had an hour stop, an hour before Tomsk but were too intimidated by the Russian security men to get off and explore the station.
We arrived in Tomsk about 2.30 pm and were met by Tatiana, the mother of the family we are couch surfing with. She had a sign with our names, and a notebook with the essential phrases - she doesn't speak English very well. She helped us buy our ticket to Moscow, a bargain, about $120 for 3rd class sleeper, a 56-hour trip! Then Tatiana brought us to their home, an apartment in a pretty nice block, no as decrepit and dirty as some Soviet monstrosities we've seen. It's a two-bedroom aparment; the two daughters share a room, and Tatiana and Yuri have given us their room, which is what they said on their couch surfing profile, but we still feel very bad.
Tatiana fed us and we showed her online photos of Australia before Galina, the fluent English speaker, came home from university where she studies linguistics. Galina took us for a walk around the neighbourhood, where there's still many old wooden houses with intricate wooden lace carvings.
"See that - fake. It's plastic, but it looks just like wrought iron".
Tomsk is famous for its architecture, and Galina knows all about it for some reason. Some of the houses were beautifully restored, others just waiting to fall down, or 'accidently' burn down, so new apartment blocks could be built. Tatiana is in a society to save the wooded buildings. The roads were puddles of mud from all the snow melting; takes a bit of the romantacism away.
On Thursday, after over the phone translating between Tatiana and her sister Natasha (Galina was at uni), we left armed with instructions for the bus to Lenin Square, the centre of own. A kind English speaking man told us when to get off. We walked around the theatre, along the river Tom for a bit and up the main street before heading home. After lunch we went with Tatiana to her physio appointment...a little weird...but her sister met us and took us for a walk while we waited. Then, after some very complicated tram changes, we were in the 'burbs, and an artists studio. Leonty Usov (which took ages to Google) is famous for his wooden carvings of famous people. He had jut returned from a tour of Australia and were were invited to the exhibition opening in Sydney in a year. We hadn't the heart to tell him or Olga, his 'director' that we would not be home by then. The whole situation was quite amusing - there were two translators, his manger, his other art friends, all seemingly there to show the Aussie tourists Tomsk's favourite sculptor. His works were pretty cool, abstract but still distinctive. Many were 'famous Russian playwrights/poets/philosophers' that we had never heard of. Shakespeare, we knew.
After that bizarre meeting, we met with Galina and went to Tomsk's museum if political oppression. Galina and Natasha very professionally translated the signs and told us the stories of the ridiculous amount of people accused of going against the government in the 20's and 30's - intellectuals, priests, people with glasses....'so just take the glasses off...' It was Lenin's birthday and they had a whole room of ridiculous Lenin paraphenalia. After, Galina took us home, fed us, and we watched Coraline on DVD before it stopped on us.
On Friday April 24th we were sent on the bust to Lagerny Gardens, memorial gardens for the servicement. The weather was lovely, the view of the Tom river was amazing and the paths weren't completely covered in slushy snow. We saw a few weddings - Friday weddings are popular! - and sat in the sunshine amongst the birch grove. We came home for lunch - this couch surfing business has turned into full board and accommodation - and waited for Galina to finish at uni - she has lessons six days a week! For five years!
We had a bit of a relax, then went to the University and walked around, tried to get into the Botanic Gardens, but they were closed. We saw many buildings of historical significance to Tomsk, some gardens, the Tomsk football stadium, and lots of slushy streets. Galina has an art lesson every Friday, so we tag teamed with her mother at the art museum. Tatiana is ver involded with the art scene in Tomsk so she knew everyone at the museum and recruited English speakers from a passing uni excursion to translate the curator's descriptions of the artworks. It was another odd situation - perhaps we are the only foreigners in town, but everyone's willing to help. The translator' friends all stood around giggling while she spoke to us in perfect English.
After the museum we promenaded, along with half of Tomsk, in the sunshine by the river, which is still frozen but expected to crack soon.
That nigh we broke the ice (segue!) with Yuri, the father, whose English extends to grunts. Vodka - you could crack Lake Baikal with it. We had a few shots, the men drinking more, because they're men. I was sniffing and coughing real bad like, and Tatiana made me a steam bath for me to breathe. We feel terrible being ill in someone's home, especially since Tatiana ha started coughing as well. We have both had bad coughing fits at night and hope we haven't been waking everyone up. The air is very dry and there's a cat. Tatiana has given me tea and medicine, just like mum would. But we feel like we have made their home a sick bay.
Our first couch surfing experience has certainly been memorable. It is not what we expected. The Vesnina family haven' hosted since September, perhaps because it's too exhausting for them. They have organised activities and schedules for us every day, fed us every meal and given us medicine. But this means that our independence is no more. Obviously we don't get keys to their family house so we aren't free to come and go. The whole situation reminds me of foreign students mum and dad would host for a week - not a word of the hosts' language, activities planned every day and very difficult to help out around the house.
But the awkwardness that comes with staying in a family's home is a small price to pay for this unique experience. We have seen Tomsk's sights with Galina as a personal tour guide. She has translated for her mother, and museum's curators, at the oppression museum and the museum of wooden architecture. Tatiana's contacts around the city have made us feel like visiting royalty, with personal tours and explanations.
We arrived in Tomsk about 2.30 pm and were met by Tatiana, the mother of the family we are couch surfing with. She had a sign with our names, and a notebook with the essential phrases - she doesn't speak English very well. She helped us buy our ticket to Moscow, a bargain, about $120 for 3rd class sleeper, a 56-hour trip! Then Tatiana brought us to their home, an apartment in a pretty nice block, no as decrepit and dirty as some Soviet monstrosities we've seen. It's a two-bedroom aparment; the two daughters share a room, and Tatiana and Yuri have given us their room, which is what they said on their couch surfing profile, but we still feel very bad.
Tatiana fed us and we showed her online photos of Australia before Galina, the fluent English speaker, came home from university where she studies linguistics. Galina took us for a walk around the neighbourhood, where there's still many old wooden houses with intricate wooden lace carvings.
"See that - fake. It's plastic, but it looks just like wrought iron".
Tomsk is famous for its architecture, and Galina knows all about it for some reason. Some of the houses were beautifully restored, others just waiting to fall down, or 'accidently' burn down, so new apartment blocks could be built. Tatiana is in a society to save the wooded buildings. The roads were puddles of mud from all the snow melting; takes a bit of the romantacism away.
On Thursday, after over the phone translating between Tatiana and her sister Natasha (Galina was at uni), we left armed with instructions for the bus to Lenin Square, the centre of own. A kind English speaking man told us when to get off. We walked around the theatre, along the river Tom for a bit and up the main street before heading home. After lunch we went with Tatiana to her physio appointment...a little weird...but her sister met us and took us for a walk while we waited. Then, after some very complicated tram changes, we were in the 'burbs, and an artists studio. Leonty Usov (which took ages to Google) is famous for his wooden carvings of famous people. He had jut returned from a tour of Australia and were were invited to the exhibition opening in Sydney in a year. We hadn't the heart to tell him or Olga, his 'director' that we would not be home by then. The whole situation was quite amusing - there were two translators, his manger, his other art friends, all seemingly there to show the Aussie tourists Tomsk's favourite sculptor. His works were pretty cool, abstract but still distinctive. Many were 'famous Russian playwrights/poets/philosophers' that we had never heard of. Shakespeare, we knew.
After that bizarre meeting, we met with Galina and went to Tomsk's museum if political oppression. Galina and Natasha very professionally translated the signs and told us the stories of the ridiculous amount of people accused of going against the government in the 20's and 30's - intellectuals, priests, people with glasses....'so just take the glasses off...' It was Lenin's birthday and they had a whole room of ridiculous Lenin paraphenalia. After, Galina took us home, fed us, and we watched Coraline on DVD before it stopped on us.
On Friday April 24th we were sent on the bust to Lagerny Gardens, memorial gardens for the servicement. The weather was lovely, the view of the Tom river was amazing and the paths weren't completely covered in slushy snow. We saw a few weddings - Friday weddings are popular! - and sat in the sunshine amongst the birch grove. We came home for lunch - this couch surfing business has turned into full board and accommodation - and waited for Galina to finish at uni - she has lessons six days a week! For five years!
We had a bit of a relax, then went to the University and walked around, tried to get into the Botanic Gardens, but they were closed. We saw many buildings of historical significance to Tomsk, some gardens, the Tomsk football stadium, and lots of slushy streets. Galina has an art lesson every Friday, so we tag teamed with her mother at the art museum. Tatiana is ver involded with the art scene in Tomsk so she knew everyone at the museum and recruited English speakers from a passing uni excursion to translate the curator's descriptions of the artworks. It was another odd situation - perhaps we are the only foreigners in town, but everyone's willing to help. The translator' friends all stood around giggling while she spoke to us in perfect English.
After the museum we promenaded, along with half of Tomsk, in the sunshine by the river, which is still frozen but expected to crack soon.
That nigh we broke the ice (segue!) with Yuri, the father, whose English extends to grunts. Vodka - you could crack Lake Baikal with it. We had a few shots, the men drinking more, because they're men. I was sniffing and coughing real bad like, and Tatiana made me a steam bath for me to breathe. We feel terrible being ill in someone's home, especially since Tatiana ha started coughing as well. We have both had bad coughing fits at night and hope we haven't been waking everyone up. The air is very dry and there's a cat. Tatiana has given me tea and medicine, just like mum would. But we feel like we have made their home a sick bay.
Our first couch surfing experience has certainly been memorable. It is not what we expected. The Vesnina family haven' hosted since September, perhaps because it's too exhausting for them. They have organised activities and schedules for us every day, fed us every meal and given us medicine. But this means that our independence is no more. Obviously we don't get keys to their family house so we aren't free to come and go. The whole situation reminds me of foreign students mum and dad would host for a week - not a word of the hosts' language, activities planned every day and very difficult to help out around the house.
But the awkwardness that comes with staying in a family's home is a small price to pay for this unique experience. We have seen Tomsk's sights with Galina as a personal tour guide. She has translated for her mother, and museum's curators, at the oppression museum and the museum of wooden architecture. Tatiana's contacts around the city have made us feel like visiting royalty, with personal tours and explanations.
Irkutsk and Lake Baikal, April 14-20
We arrived in Irkutsk at about 3pm, after and were promptly singled out as tourists, by a big burly Russian man wearing a vest that said Immigration Control. He asked for our passports and we tried to give him our photocopies, because that's what the Lonely Planet says to do! But he wanted the real thing. Once he looked at them and our visas, he asked, in a very unhelpful voice, 'Can I help you?' So we showed him our map and hostel address and pointed us in the right direction.
Again, we were the only ones in our hostel, besides the lady who lived there and her young son. Apparently Siberia isn't that popular for backpackers in a slushy Spring.
The next two days we did pretty much nothing, just sleeping and trying to get rid of wicked colds we picked up in UB.
On Saturday April 18 we went with Neil, the epitome of an obvious tourist that we try to avoid, a Chinese bloke we met at the Admiral hostel. He kept checking his map at every corner, and taking photos at intersections 'in case we get lost'. We caught a mini-van packed with Russian sardines to Listvyanka, about an hour from Irkutsk on the banks of Lake Baikal. We walked aroun th village for a while with Neil and a Scottish girl, probably the only foreigners in town. The village stretches along the bacnks of the lake, with streets going up valleys (now turned into rivers thanks to the melting snow), lined with old wooden houses and new brick and plastic-cladded guesthouses.
We found our guesthouse, Baikal Dream, recommended by some Frenchies we met. After much dodgy Russian, dodgy English and dodgy hand gestures, we procured a double room for two nights, for about $50 a night. Our room was amazing - timber floors (and ceiling ?!?), three single beds (two deftly pushed together), big windows with lake glimpses, leopard print covers and a space cubicle bathroom with a heated floor! We promptly began some serious relaxing, no feeling so lazy as we had an excellent view of the birch trees lining the hills, and the street that saw very little action. We made some pasta for a late dinner, our hot Nikolai appalled that we would have plain pasta (we thought we had bough pasta sauce, but it was borscht...), so he gave us a tin of tuna from his own pantry, bless him. All this without a word of English, except 'chef...no good'...give me a proper kitchen and some proper ingredients, Nikolai, and I'll show you!
On Sunday we didn't venture outside until 2pm, much to the dismay of Nikolai. We spent the morning following the sun on our bedroom floor, listening to The Twelfth Man, and coughing up our lungs...Phill claims it was the worst flu in ten years. I think it was a chest infection.
We spent the afternoon on the lake - literally. So much ice, so much white! WE walked and slid on the ice, finding cool patters - cracks and bubbles in the ridiculously thick ice, under abou 20cm of snow. Hovercrafts sped along the ice and did spins to thrill their passengers, and Phill. Skidoos zipped along, we even saw a horse and cart on the ice!
The slushy shores were loaded with Russians partaking in the traditional Russian festival that is 'Sunday Sesh'. Some would stand by their cars, vodka and fish on the go, and people watch in the sun. Kids would play on the ice, their parents oblivious to the fact IT COULD BREAK AT ANY MOMENT!!! There were little huts on the shores with families picnicking, and a few hotted up cars blaring loud music wih dancing girls drinking canned cocktails. It really was a nice way to while away a Spring afternoon.
On Monday we made our way back to Irkutsk and unintentionally explored the city by taking the long way home. Young girls laughed at my purple thermals, shorts, and long socks, and we saw an awesome beard. We stocked up on staple train supplies and had an early night.
Again, we were the only ones in our hostel, besides the lady who lived there and her young son. Apparently Siberia isn't that popular for backpackers in a slushy Spring.
The next two days we did pretty much nothing, just sleeping and trying to get rid of wicked colds we picked up in UB.
On Saturday April 18 we went with Neil, the epitome of an obvious tourist that we try to avoid, a Chinese bloke we met at the Admiral hostel. He kept checking his map at every corner, and taking photos at intersections 'in case we get lost'. We caught a mini-van packed with Russian sardines to Listvyanka, about an hour from Irkutsk on the banks of Lake Baikal. We walked aroun th village for a while with Neil and a Scottish girl, probably the only foreigners in town. The village stretches along the bacnks of the lake, with streets going up valleys (now turned into rivers thanks to the melting snow), lined with old wooden houses and new brick and plastic-cladded guesthouses.
We found our guesthouse, Baikal Dream, recommended by some Frenchies we met. After much dodgy Russian, dodgy English and dodgy hand gestures, we procured a double room for two nights, for about $50 a night. Our room was amazing - timber floors (and ceiling ?!?), three single beds (two deftly pushed together), big windows with lake glimpses, leopard print covers and a space cubicle bathroom with a heated floor! We promptly began some serious relaxing, no feeling so lazy as we had an excellent view of the birch trees lining the hills, and the street that saw very little action. We made some pasta for a late dinner, our hot Nikolai appalled that we would have plain pasta (we thought we had bough pasta sauce, but it was borscht...), so he gave us a tin of tuna from his own pantry, bless him. All this without a word of English, except 'chef...no good'...give me a proper kitchen and some proper ingredients, Nikolai, and I'll show you!
On Sunday we didn't venture outside until 2pm, much to the dismay of Nikolai. We spent the morning following the sun on our bedroom floor, listening to The Twelfth Man, and coughing up our lungs...Phill claims it was the worst flu in ten years. I think it was a chest infection.
We spent the afternoon on the lake - literally. So much ice, so much white! WE walked and slid on the ice, finding cool patters - cracks and bubbles in the ridiculously thick ice, under abou 20cm of snow. Hovercrafts sped along the ice and did spins to thrill their passengers, and Phill. Skidoos zipped along, we even saw a horse and cart on the ice!
The slushy shores were loaded with Russians partaking in the traditional Russian festival that is 'Sunday Sesh'. Some would stand by their cars, vodka and fish on the go, and people watch in the sun. Kids would play on the ice, their parents oblivious to the fact IT COULD BREAK AT ANY MOMENT!!! There were little huts on the shores with families picnicking, and a few hotted up cars blaring loud music wih dancing girls drinking canned cocktails. It really was a nice way to while away a Spring afternoon.
On Monday we made our way back to Irkutsk and unintentionally explored the city by taking the long way home. Young girls laughed at my purple thermals, shorts, and long socks, and we saw an awesome beard. We stocked up on staple train supplies and had an early night.
Hangin' out in UB town
Our last week in Mongolia was just like hanging around home, waiting. With a week to wait before we could enter Russia (the visa situation isn't very welcoming...), we made ourselves at home at the Golden Gobi Hostel. We went to the Black Market, the movies and out for drinks with fellow travellers who came to call the Golden Gobi home, and were mostly waiting for Russian visas as well. We saw some characters come and go - Matt, a loose as 32-year-old Canadian heading home to study philosophy after three years teaching in Korea; Daniel, an equally loose German chap, who refused to pay exorbitant amounts for a tour of Mongolia and so bought a mountain bike from the Black Market and headed for China. He came back three days later, his bike was stolen while he was sleeping in his tent on the side of the road. There was Arnold, an inspiration - 80 years old and spends 10 months a year travelling on his own. He could well start every sentence with 'When I was there, in 1972...' and we would listen because he was a mad dude. "Last time I rode a camel was in Egypt in '64." What a trooper. Then there were the owners, Bob and his sister Enushka, gigglers and tale tellers but a wealth of knowledge and thirsting for more; Mama, the best tea maker ever (probably the three spoons of sugar she would put in), and always telling us to stay warm (we should have listened); and thre two Mongolian housekeepers/caretakers/washing ladies/cooks/cleaners (the carpet...with a toothbrush...)/ and door bitches, one of whom Phill woke up at 5am with a drunk Mongolian on his back, trying to find poor Odka a bed...
It was a cool place to hang out for a week, but we had itchy feed by the end. On our last day we hit the slopes - Mongolia's own two-lift, three-run ski resort. For about $20 we got a shuttlebus, ski and snowboard hire, clothes, lift ticker, and lunch! The snow was bearable, a little icy, but remained well-groom all day - we were the only ones there to carve it up. We took crazy German Daniel along and Phill taught him how to snowboard. Phill and I entered another stage of our relationship by discovering we are compatible even though he snowboards and I ski - I just beat him in races, but he's ok with that.
Our last night in town, we had curry with Andrew and took our the hostel common room for 'farewell' drinks. We had a very dusty walk to the trains station on Tuesday, accompanied by Daniel and Arnold. Pirman (a German) and Stephen (a Canadian) were in our carriage as well so it was like a moving extension of the Golden Gobi.
We had sleeping berths in second class, sharing with 'Andy', a Russian, about 24 years old, who had lived in UB for eight years but was heading home to Krasnoyarsk for an operation on hi leg, broken when snowboarding! He was very quiet bu gradually began telling us about Russia, his job in UB and how his boss dodges Mongolian taxes, and places he's travelle o learn English.
At the Mongolian border town, lots of traders got on the train and began unpacking their wares around the carriage. Andy told us that they're only allowed one bag, so they hide their plastic-wrapped shirts and tracksuits, bottles of whiskey and packets of toilet paper (?) in other people's luggage, if they let them, and on all the common shelves and tables. Dodgy business. We were glad to have Andy to explain all this, and translate at the border for us. There were no problems for us, but the guards were hardly convinced that this Mongolian trader had just one bag, and was getting off at the border train - not much to see there! Once all the immigration business was done, the provodnik (carriage attendant) bought 't-shirts, four, extra large' from the trader. He's in on the action as well.
It was a cool place to hang out for a week, but we had itchy feed by the end. On our last day we hit the slopes - Mongolia's own two-lift, three-run ski resort. For about $20 we got a shuttlebus, ski and snowboard hire, clothes, lift ticker, and lunch! The snow was bearable, a little icy, but remained well-groom all day - we were the only ones there to carve it up. We took crazy German Daniel along and Phill taught him how to snowboard. Phill and I entered another stage of our relationship by discovering we are compatible even though he snowboards and I ski - I just beat him in races, but he's ok with that.
Our last night in town, we had curry with Andrew and took our the hostel common room for 'farewell' drinks. We had a very dusty walk to the trains station on Tuesday, accompanied by Daniel and Arnold. Pirman (a German) and Stephen (a Canadian) were in our carriage as well so it was like a moving extension of the Golden Gobi.
We had sleeping berths in second class, sharing with 'Andy', a Russian, about 24 years old, who had lived in UB for eight years but was heading home to Krasnoyarsk for an operation on hi leg, broken when snowboarding! He was very quiet bu gradually began telling us about Russia, his job in UB and how his boss dodges Mongolian taxes, and places he's travelle o learn English.
At the Mongolian border town, lots of traders got on the train and began unpacking their wares around the carriage. Andy told us that they're only allowed one bag, so they hide their plastic-wrapped shirts and tracksuits, bottles of whiskey and packets of toilet paper (?) in other people's luggage, if they let them, and on all the common shelves and tables. Dodgy business. We were glad to have Andy to explain all this, and translate at the border for us. There were no problems for us, but the guards were hardly convinced that this Mongolian trader had just one bag, and was getting off at the border train - not much to see there! Once all the immigration business was done, the provodnik (carriage attendant) bought 't-shirts, four, extra large' from the trader. He's in on the action as well.
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