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.