I've been in Mongolia for a day now. It's a great country - fascinating!
Mongolian people and culture are this intriguing hybrid between the East and West, ancient and modern. Every five minutes you think you're in Hanoi, St. Petersburg, the 1200s, or the Twenty-first Century. As the buildings are in dire need of a paint job, they stand contrasted against the shiny and expensive cars that seem to aim for pedestrians as they cross the street. The people are much friendlier than in Russia, except for the extremely high rate of pickpockets that riddle the streets of Ulan Bator (the capital). The weather here is bizarre... one second you're freezing, the next burning, the next feeling rather pleasant. Lonely Planet accurately described Mongolia as potentially going through every season in twenty-four hours.
We haven't taken any pictures yet, for fear of the enormous pickpocket ring. Today, we intend to go out and take landscapes, while tomorrow will be portraits (this way, we won't have our sidebags with us in order to switch lenses). But I promise that Karen (www.thesqueakyrobot.wordpress.com), Michael (www.thetasketernal.wordpress.com), and I will certainly capture and post some great shots - as they're everywhere, calling to us.
Yesterday was a very relaxed day. We spent some time in our hostel, meeting amazing people (Israeli, Argentinian, Austrian, Australian, etc - the Israelis being our favorite here so far), and then we did some souvenir/gift shopping so we can send stuff home from UB, as opposed to carrying a ton of trinkets for another few months. UB's State Department Store has, perhaps, the most reasonably priced souvenirs of any shop I've been in. In the evening, we went to a delicious restaurant right near our hostel, Golden Gobi. The food was spectacular and the three of us couldn't even finish our plates for under 3 USD per person, despite our taste buds yearning for more.
I'm excited to be back in Asia, where you cross streets with nothing but the prayers of making it to the other side, where you order food that you've never heard of before in expectation that it's probably delicious (and it normally is), where that unknown food you ordered looks like nothing else you've ever seen but you try it anyway, figuring that someone eats it and they don't die; where you never have any idea what faux pas you're dishing out, where you laugh at the plethora of "wtf" moments as you walk down the street, and the list goes on and on.
Today will undoubtedly provide a wide array of stories - good, bad, ugly, hilarious, etc - and I can't wait.
I'm further excited for the next few weeks, after booking tours into the country. On 2 June, we will be going to the East of UB for a few days, staying in a national park, living with nomadic, hunting, and Kazakh families; we'll go horse and camel riding, etc etc. We had to switch things around and make some sacrifices, for which I'm incredibly grateful to my understanding companions, so that I can be in UB (and have phone/internet service) on 6 June - my best friend's birthday. On 7 June,we will be embarking for the Gobi Desert in a seven day jaunt into a sandy dreamscape. We'll return on the 13th and leave UB on the same day - arriving at the Chinese border town of Erilian on the 14th, at which point we'll take a sleeper bus to Beijing and arrive at 7AM on the 15th. During those periods of time, I will only have access to the outside world in UB (or if you have a skilled owl, pigeon, or eagle or mastered the art of telepathy).
Ok, time to explore!!!
PS - ...whatever...
Monday, May 30, 2011
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Where in the World is Captain America: Lake Baikal
Captain America soaking up the sun on a rock by Lake Baikal in Russia.
And So The Second Leg Begins...
We departed from the Baikaler Hostel in the dead of night to the train station for a 5AM-er, and so began our sad goodbye to the Russia we grew to know and love.
The three of us squeezed into a tight compartment designed for four people (how four people with luggage could fit in that room is perhaps an Asian mystery), but we were lucky to be able to leave the fourth bed open to Elijah and no one else (Passover joke, anyone?). The decor of our train compartment was described perfectly by Karen as a "Sultan's sex room"... I'll leave that up to your imagination. As we attempted to board the train, loud Mongolians rushed through the halls carrying the oddest assortment of things. We watched as a seemingly endless supply of bursting trash bags and boxes were loaded into their rooms and the hallways. We laughed as the torsos and bottom-halves of mannequins made their way past our door - and we wondered if they had to buy the plastic people tickets (and if they didn't, does Joan Rivers need a ticket?)
If it wasn't for a cold and a stomach bug, I would have enjoyed the first part of the train ride more, but after a great night's sleep, I felt loads better. The train ride was great and sights were awe-inspiring.
During the six and a half hours spent at customs between both the Russian and Mongolian sides, we compared the two neighboring countries. It was apparent that the two sides could easily be contrasted in the wonderful juxtaposition of the K-9 units used by each. Russia used German Shepards, beautiful dogs, aggressive on the outside and when necessary, cute and cuddly on the inside. German Shepards are like Russia(ns) in so many ways. Once over to the Mongolian side, the use of Cocker Spaniels was laughable, yet exceedingly representative of Mongolia. Cute, non-aggressive, and certainly not intimidating. We wanted to play with both dogs - with the German Shepards, we were afraid of being violently mauled; with the Spaniels, we were afraid of being violently licked.
Upon our arrival in Ulan Bator, we were welcomed by staff at our hostel, Golden Gobi. We hadn't informed them at what time we would be arriving, but they somehow figured it out and were incredibly kind enough to get us and bring us to the centrally located hostel. The place is great - super cozy, warm staff, and uber inviting. We were greeted by delicious bread with butter and some fresh jam, and some extremely delightful tea with milk. Things are off to a good start and I'm excited for what Mongolia has to offer!
PS - And everything between
The three of us squeezed into a tight compartment designed for four people (how four people with luggage could fit in that room is perhaps an Asian mystery), but we were lucky to be able to leave the fourth bed open to Elijah and no one else (Passover joke, anyone?). The decor of our train compartment was described perfectly by Karen as a "Sultan's sex room"... I'll leave that up to your imagination. As we attempted to board the train, loud Mongolians rushed through the halls carrying the oddest assortment of things. We watched as a seemingly endless supply of bursting trash bags and boxes were loaded into their rooms and the hallways. We laughed as the torsos and bottom-halves of mannequins made their way past our door - and we wondered if they had to buy the plastic people tickets (and if they didn't, does Joan Rivers need a ticket?)
If it wasn't for a cold and a stomach bug, I would have enjoyed the first part of the train ride more, but after a great night's sleep, I felt loads better. The train ride was great and sights were awe-inspiring.
During the six and a half hours spent at customs between both the Russian and Mongolian sides, we compared the two neighboring countries. It was apparent that the two sides could easily be contrasted in the wonderful juxtaposition of the K-9 units used by each. Russia used German Shepards, beautiful dogs, aggressive on the outside and when necessary, cute and cuddly on the inside. German Shepards are like Russia(ns) in so many ways. Once over to the Mongolian side, the use of Cocker Spaniels was laughable, yet exceedingly representative of Mongolia. Cute, non-aggressive, and certainly not intimidating. We wanted to play with both dogs - with the German Shepards, we were afraid of being violently mauled; with the Spaniels, we were afraid of being violently licked.
Upon our arrival in Ulan Bator, we were welcomed by staff at our hostel, Golden Gobi. We hadn't informed them at what time we would be arriving, but they somehow figured it out and were incredibly kind enough to get us and bring us to the centrally located hostel. The place is great - super cozy, warm staff, and uber inviting. We were greeted by delicious bread with butter and some fresh jam, and some extremely delightful tea with milk. Things are off to a good start and I'm excited for what Mongolia has to offer!
PS - And everything between
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Lake Baikal
Baikal's beauty left me speechless... but since a picture's worth a thousand words, these will just have to do:
PS - “We are each of us angels with only one wing, and we can only fly by embracing one another.” - Lucretius
PS - “We are each of us angels with only one wing, and we can only fly by embracing one another.” - Lucretius
Friday, May 27, 2011
Irkutsk and Baikal
Can't figure out yesterday's highlight: seeing the glorious Lake Baikal, eating fish from a random market, trespassing to get to a crazy steep foot path up a mountain with a girl from Raleigh (Faith), a guy from Switzerland (David), and a British (self-proclaimed) ex-criminal (Jez); watching a teenager dry hump his girlfriend on the canon of a tank while making out in broad daylight, walking into our room to find two people sleeping in my bed (Miles and Minda) because the hostel sold my bed not realizing I was still occupying that area, or going to dinner with a huge and diverse group of ten for dinner and beer. The group, consisiting of Americans, Canadians, the French, and a Swiss man, chatted for hours over everything from travel to faux astronauts to American politics to Mormons (and the list goes on). Faith, David, Miles, Minda, Stefan, Stefanie, Greg, and the three of us - a melange of personalities.
Yesterday was one of the best days yet, mostly because of the awesome people we met! My pictures of Faith didn't come out (sorry guys!!), but here is David, Stephane, Miles, and Minda:
Yesterday was one of the best days yet, mostly because of the awesome people we met! My pictures of Faith didn't come out (sorry guys!!), but here is David, Stephane, Miles, and Minda:
PS - Hang in there
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Is This Real Life? (Day 4 on the TSR)
Brace yourself. Today was long and jam-packed. It was just as exhausting living as it will be to read this...
Remember that well tempered baby? ...I had spoken too soon. The baby seemed to protest our attempt at sleeping, several times. Luckily for us, the baby was gone by morning, perhaps whisked away by the KGB?
Aksana's neice, Dasha, drove us nuts all morning, having woken Karen up to play cards. Karen didn't take too kindly to this and rolled back over.
As we got off at a platform for some air, an Uzbek guy, aged twenty years, gave us chestnuts. His name was Misha and he was travelling with his bizarre pack of brothers and friends, none of whom had ever met an American and one of whom proposed to Karen. They were all very friendly and we spent plenty of time chatting. They gave us dried milk curds - which tasted quite like compacted parmesan cheese mixed with an entire shaker full of salt. They also gave us Uzbek money, in exchange for some dollars.
The milk curds are called Tvorag, and I wouldn't suggest them to anyone without an affinity for masochism. Unfortunately for me, I do not enjoy self torture, and thus I did not enjoy these nasty Uzbek treats.
Before we pulled into a station entitled "3-A-0-3-E-P-H-A-backwards R," I grabbed a beer with Karen and tried another bite of Tvorag, it's supposed to be eaten with beer (probably because you'd have to be drunk to eat it). After the bite, a dead ant, partially encased in dried milk curd, stared me in the face - the universe's way of saying, "really dude, just put it down, don't even bother, and finish that damn beer."
A boy from Tajikstan joined us, around seven or eight years old, he is one of the most talented photographers - especially for one who never picked up a DSLR. He quickly learned how to focus the lens - although imperfectly, he did a really damn good job. His name was Roma. And I want to adopt him. I gave him a dollar and he returned with a Tajik bill. We have been entertaining Roma and Dasha, and taking photos of them and showing them how to use our cameras. Dasha is horrendously annoying, as most nine year olds are... She quickly drove Michael up a wall (or into his bed in an effort to escape). A few hours later and I'm wishing that defenstration would leave her unharmed but far, far away from me. Fourth graders around the world apparently ignore "no" (or 'nyet') and "stop" (or 'stoy'). Despite being tired of having hands all over my face, I'm happy that we could bring these two children together. Perhaps they never would have talked if Americans hadn't been such a rarity on the TSR and attracted attention from the Tajiks and Uzbeks. If we hadn't been open to playing with the kids, they probably wouldn't have overcome their shyness and become friends. An accomplishment!
A man nearby suggested we buy Siberian green onions at the next stop, a delicious and healthy treat eaten with salt, dark bread, and kelbasa.
The sweet, salty, spicy, and savory combination was both surprising and a welcome treat. We haven't been able to acquire too many fruits or veggies on the train, so the green was a refreshing sight for my palate.
My feet are dirtier than any given episode of South Park, my sleep schedule more whacked out than the potential love child of Charlie Sheen and Lindsay Lohan, and my nostrils are filled with a stench so wretched that only 'Essence of Satan's Tuchas' could be an appropriately descriptive title for the future fragrance. This aside, I'm enjoying the TSR more than ever - but my time here is nearing an end. After seventy-six hours on a moving block of steel ripping through the pages of the book "Russia," am sad to leave. We just started to have fun! While the TSR turned out to be a lot less of a party train than we expected, the memories and connections made were worth every second. From Glinda the Magical Cupcake to Roma the Photography Boy-Wonder, the vomiting drunk to the marriage proposal between Karen and an Uzbek, this has been a crazy ride. I will miss the shifting landscapes and random bumps that jolt us in the might, and I'll miss Aksana laughing at my horrendous Russian - oorah!
-----------------------
At hour 90, we're more than ready to get the hell off of this moving stable cart. Our lungs are chock full of dust and blanket fuzzies - look into the sunlight pouring through the window and countless dust particles can be seen conniving and rushing towards your already fragile airways. If Dasha bites or pinches me one more time, I might find a way to lock her in the bathroom. If the Uzbeks hit on Karen one more time, they'll all be squinting at Russia past shiners the size of the country itself. If the drunk Russia men at the end of the cart look at our stuff one more time with an unmistakeable expression that says, "that will be mine when you fall asleep," I'll... yea, I can't take ten Russian men in their prime no matter how hard I try, but I will yell at them very angrily!
------------------------
Our last night on the train saw approximately three hours of sleep - too afraid of what might happen to our stuff or Karen if we slept too long or deeply. Now off, we're happy to be up and walking. More to come from Irkutsk and Lake Baikal in the coming days!
Photos:
1) Dasha, balancing an apple on her eye while holding a chestnut in her mouth
2) Misha, the Uzbek
3) An Uzbek
4) Roma, the boy I'd like to adopt
5) Roma taking pictures like a boss
6) A dirty hand passing off change and Siberian green onions on a train platform
7) Aksana, hiding her blemishes with Siberian green onions
PS - You've Got a Friend in Me
Remember that well tempered baby? ...I had spoken too soon. The baby seemed to protest our attempt at sleeping, several times. Luckily for us, the baby was gone by morning, perhaps whisked away by the KGB?
Aksana's neice, Dasha, drove us nuts all morning, having woken Karen up to play cards. Karen didn't take too kindly to this and rolled back over.
The milk curds are called Tvorag, and I wouldn't suggest them to anyone without an affinity for masochism. Unfortunately for me, I do not enjoy self torture, and thus I did not enjoy these nasty Uzbek treats.
Before we pulled into a station entitled "3-A-0-3-E-P-H-A-backwards R," I grabbed a beer with Karen and tried another bite of Tvorag, it's supposed to be eaten with beer (probably because you'd have to be drunk to eat it). After the bite, a dead ant, partially encased in dried milk curd, stared me in the face - the universe's way of saying, "really dude, just put it down, don't even bother, and finish that damn beer."
A boy from Tajikstan joined us, around seven or eight years old, he is one of the most talented photographers - especially for one who never picked up a DSLR. He quickly learned how to focus the lens - although imperfectly, he did a really damn good job. His name was Roma. And I want to adopt him. I gave him a dollar and he returned with a Tajik bill. We have been entertaining Roma and Dasha, and taking photos of them and showing them how to use our cameras. Dasha is horrendously annoying, as most nine year olds are... She quickly drove Michael up a wall (or into his bed in an effort to escape). A few hours later and I'm wishing that defenstration would leave her unharmed but far, far away from me. Fourth graders around the world apparently ignore "no" (or 'nyet') and "stop" (or 'stoy'). Despite being tired of having hands all over my face, I'm happy that we could bring these two children together. Perhaps they never would have talked if Americans hadn't been such a rarity on the TSR and attracted attention from the Tajiks and Uzbeks. If we hadn't been open to playing with the kids, they probably wouldn't have overcome their shyness and become friends. An accomplishment!
Roma and Dasha were intrigued by our cameras, iPods, books, my flipcam, and Captain America. It was exciting to see people on the other side of the world play with these things with a greater sense of appreciation than American youth.
A man nearby suggested we buy Siberian green onions at the next stop, a delicious and healthy treat eaten with salt, dark bread, and kelbasa.
The sweet, salty, spicy, and savory combination was both surprising and a welcome treat. We haven't been able to acquire too many fruits or veggies on the train, so the green was a refreshing sight for my palate.
My feet are dirtier than any given episode of South Park, my sleep schedule more whacked out than the potential love child of Charlie Sheen and Lindsay Lohan, and my nostrils are filled with a stench so wretched that only 'Essence of Satan's Tuchas' could be an appropriately descriptive title for the future fragrance. This aside, I'm enjoying the TSR more than ever - but my time here is nearing an end. After seventy-six hours on a moving block of steel ripping through the pages of the book "Russia," am sad to leave. We just started to have fun! While the TSR turned out to be a lot less of a party train than we expected, the memories and connections made were worth every second. From Glinda the Magical Cupcake to Roma the Photography Boy-Wonder, the vomiting drunk to the marriage proposal between Karen and an Uzbek, this has been a crazy ride. I will miss the shifting landscapes and random bumps that jolt us in the might, and I'll miss Aksana laughing at my horrendous Russian - oorah!
-----------------------
At hour 90, we're more than ready to get the hell off of this moving stable cart. Our lungs are chock full of dust and blanket fuzzies - look into the sunlight pouring through the window and countless dust particles can be seen conniving and rushing towards your already fragile airways. If Dasha bites or pinches me one more time, I might find a way to lock her in the bathroom. If the Uzbeks hit on Karen one more time, they'll all be squinting at Russia past shiners the size of the country itself. If the drunk Russia men at the end of the cart look at our stuff one more time with an unmistakeable expression that says, "that will be mine when you fall asleep," I'll... yea, I can't take ten Russian men in their prime no matter how hard I try, but I will yell at them very angrily!
------------------------
Our last night on the train saw approximately three hours of sleep - too afraid of what might happen to our stuff or Karen if we slept too long or deeply. Now off, we're happy to be up and walking. More to come from Irkutsk and Lake Baikal in the coming days!
Photos:
1) Dasha, balancing an apple on her eye while holding a chestnut in her mouth
2) Misha, the Uzbek
3) An Uzbek
4) Roma, the boy I'd like to adopt
5) Roma taking pictures like a boss
6) A dirty hand passing off change and Siberian green onions on a train platform
7) Aksana, hiding her blemishes with Siberian green onions
PS - You've Got a Friend in Me
Where in the World is Captain America: The Steps of the Trans-Siberian Railway
Captain America bringing American awesomeness to the furthest reaches of Siberia.
Where in the World is Captain America: Who the Heck Knows, Siberia, Russia
Captain America removing the dill from a plate of bread and demanding at gun point a juicy burger. Not here, my friend, not here!
I Can See Russia From My Train Car (Day 3 on the TSR)
Last night, a man, sick from too much vodka, ran to the bathroom to vomit... he didn't quite make it in time. Luckily, his spit up vodka found a landing place away from our cabin. We shared a laugh with the jiggling woman as the provodnitsa forced him to clean it up. He was too drunk to stand and clean, so a friend helped him keep his balance. The drunkard then stripped to his skivvies and got in bed - snoring the night away.
We celebrated our first week of the trip and first full day on the train with a shot of the strongest vodka ever - quite literally smelled and tasted like rubbing alcohol.
Shortly thereafter, we were joined by a very rude elderly Russian lady, who was gone by morning.
Today we woke up to the most delicious meat and onion filled pastries that 35 rubles (a little over a dollar) could buy. An hour later, the after taste has left me yearning for more.
The sights passing our window are the most stunning to date. We've zoomed through hills, valleys, plains, birch forests, and marshes. The wide array and vastness of the landscapes make me feel miniscule - dust in the wind of life.
Moving through this geographic giant, I understand why so many people are intrigued by the Trans-Siberian Railway, and Russia in general. I could easily see why Russians have such a strong sense of national pride. The train ride has instilled in me an even greater desire to backpack through the US - something I hope to do next summer. There is a world of culture, but I often overlook my backyard. Thanks to Damian for reminding me of this.
Two Tajik men heading to Baikal struck up a conversation with Karen, and I joined. Apparently I look like a guy from Prison Break, Celine Dion is popular among Central Asian men, and an apartment in the centre of the capital of Tajikstan is $100/month.
I managed to get my phone working very briefly, after trying for the last several of days. I tried Damian, thinking he might still be up at 2:45 AM back home, and didn't bother to phone the 'rents - they were probably long asleep. After one quick voicemail message, my phone's service bid me adieu, only to say hi just long enough on occassion to tease me.
In Omsk, a woman named Aksana and her neice Dasha joined us. They're very sweet. They are going further than us (to Chita) and have about three days on the train.
After forty-eight hours and two minutes on this train, I'm surprisingly not bored to tears. Talking, writing, thinking, music, eating, watching the world pass by, Polish gin rummi, and more thinking have kept me busy. We're a little more than half way through though, hurrah!
-----------------------------
It turns out that Aksana is awesome. She's hilarious and super nice. Across from us is another sweet woman, with a surprisingly well behaved baby (knock on wood). Aksana's neice took a special interest to the "sex" page of our Russian phrasebook and read the phrases aloud for the train......awwwwwwkkkkkkwwwward!
All we've done today is sit and eat. Pirog s myasam, those 35 ruble doughy-meaty-oniony balls of pure goodness, managed to make their rounds once more (this would not be the last of our new favorite Russian food).
After lots of gin rummi, talking to Aksana, and chowing down, it's time for bed. A beer did just the trick to get me sleepy and I'm ready for my upper level compact compartment and lumpy pillow. While I'm by no means a heavy drinker, I'm going to miss being able to have a drink here and there back home. Twenty-one is a ridiculous age requirement, but I only have six more months.
----------------------
As it turns out, that sleepy slumbery mood I was in turned into a contemplative evening...
PS - Next summer: you, me, and America.
We celebrated our first week of the trip and first full day on the train with a shot of the strongest vodka ever - quite literally smelled and tasted like rubbing alcohol.
Shortly thereafter, we were joined by a very rude elderly Russian lady, who was gone by morning.
Today we woke up to the most delicious meat and onion filled pastries that 35 rubles (a little over a dollar) could buy. An hour later, the after taste has left me yearning for more.
The sights passing our window are the most stunning to date. We've zoomed through hills, valleys, plains, birch forests, and marshes. The wide array and vastness of the landscapes make me feel miniscule - dust in the wind of life.
Moving through this geographic giant, I understand why so many people are intrigued by the Trans-Siberian Railway, and Russia in general. I could easily see why Russians have such a strong sense of national pride. The train ride has instilled in me an even greater desire to backpack through the US - something I hope to do next summer. There is a world of culture, but I often overlook my backyard. Thanks to Damian for reminding me of this.
Two Tajik men heading to Baikal struck up a conversation with Karen, and I joined. Apparently I look like a guy from Prison Break, Celine Dion is popular among Central Asian men, and an apartment in the centre of the capital of Tajikstan is $100/month.
I managed to get my phone working very briefly, after trying for the last several of days. I tried Damian, thinking he might still be up at 2:45 AM back home, and didn't bother to phone the 'rents - they were probably long asleep. After one quick voicemail message, my phone's service bid me adieu, only to say hi just long enough on occassion to tease me.
In Omsk, a woman named Aksana and her neice Dasha joined us. They're very sweet. They are going further than us (to Chita) and have about three days on the train.
After forty-eight hours and two minutes on this train, I'm surprisingly not bored to tears. Talking, writing, thinking, music, eating, watching the world pass by, Polish gin rummi, and more thinking have kept me busy. We're a little more than half way through though, hurrah!
-----------------------------
It turns out that Aksana is awesome. She's hilarious and super nice. Across from us is another sweet woman, with a surprisingly well behaved baby (knock on wood). Aksana's neice took a special interest to the "sex" page of our Russian phrasebook and read the phrases aloud for the train......awwwwwwkkkkkkwwwward!
All we've done today is sit and eat. Pirog s myasam, those 35 ruble doughy-meaty-oniony balls of pure goodness, managed to make their rounds once more (this would not be the last of our new favorite Russian food).
After lots of gin rummi, talking to Aksana, and chowing down, it's time for bed. A beer did just the trick to get me sleepy and I'm ready for my upper level compact compartment and lumpy pillow. While I'm by no means a heavy drinker, I'm going to miss being able to have a drink here and there back home. Twenty-one is a ridiculous age requirement, but I only have six more months.
----------------------
As it turns out, that sleepy slumbery mood I was in turned into a contemplative evening...
PS - Next summer: you, me, and America.
The Anti-Semitic Cupcake (Day 2 on the TSR)
People in carts outside our window try to sell us all sorts of goods. Not sure where we are, I have taken up my pen.
I like Galina. She's Russian Orthodox with a mix of various other religions, whichever she found beautiful and applicable. She has an affinity for angels and cutting her ice cream come with a knife. An odd woman indeed, her kind ways, creepy smile, and flowerly tea cup will be missed in a few hours. How will we know where we are without our anti-Semitic cupcake? Watching her read a boo about a guy who died twice and came back to life both times, I've decided that she looks like the female gremlin in the aptly named film "Gremlins." The resemblence is uncanny (either that or reading 'Me Talk Pretty One Day' by David Sedaris has warped my mind). But past her gremlin features and hatred of two-thirds of our group, lies a gentle woman - a beauty in her own right.
--------------------------
Galina is gone now, before leaving she gave us random laminations. Karen has one of a random mountain in Canada, Michael has one of Michael the Archangel, and I have one of chakras over a picture of the Statue of David. I'm sure you're left thinking exactly what I was thinking - "WTF?"
I helped her off the train, took a picture of her, and we kissed goodbye. Our church lady gremlin cupcake is gone. Now we're pigging out on cream cheese, cheese, and kilbasa on rye.
Where are we? What time is it? What day is it? Ahh, the Trans-Siberian.
PS - Higher State
I like Galina. She's Russian Orthodox with a mix of various other religions, whichever she found beautiful and applicable. She has an affinity for angels and cutting her ice cream come with a knife. An odd woman indeed, her kind ways, creepy smile, and flowerly tea cup will be missed in a few hours. How will we know where we are without our anti-Semitic cupcake? Watching her read a boo about a guy who died twice and came back to life both times, I've decided that she looks like the female gremlin in the aptly named film "Gremlins." The resemblence is uncanny (either that or reading 'Me Talk Pretty One Day' by David Sedaris has warped my mind). But past her gremlin features and hatred of two-thirds of our group, lies a gentle woman - a beauty in her own right.
--------------------------
Galina is gone now, before leaving she gave us random laminations. Karen has one of a random mountain in Canada, Michael has one of Michael the Archangel, and I have one of chakras over a picture of the Statue of David. I'm sure you're left thinking exactly what I was thinking - "WTF?"
I helped her off the train, took a picture of her, and we kissed goodbye. Our church lady gremlin cupcake is gone. Now we're pigging out on cream cheese, cheese, and kilbasa on rye.
Where are we? What time is it? What day is it? Ahh, the Trans-Siberian.
PS - Higher State
In Soviet Russia, Train Ride You (Day 1 on the TSR)
Beep. Beep. Beep. Time to wake up, pack for the Trans-Siberian Railway, load up on groceries, and say das vedanya to Moscow.
The great taxi versus metro debate was in full swing as we tried to figure out how to get to the train station. Metro won and we set out. Karen reminded us that "tourists take taxis, travellers take the metro!" As we navigated the underground with our backpacks, sidebags, two bags of food, and three jugs of water, we certainly failed to blend in.
We settled into our third class compartments a little before the train took off. The three of us were joined by Galina, or Glinda the Magical Cupcake, as I like to call her (cupcake is our code name for Soviet). Galina, despite being an anti-Semitic Pole-hater, is very sweet - as sweet as a cupcake can be! ...Does Georgetown Cupcakes deliver??? Across from us, a jiggling woman spends her time either staring at us, or laying sprawled out on her tiny bed sleeping the day away.
The great taxi versus metro debate was in full swing as we tried to figure out how to get to the train station. Metro won and we set out. Karen reminded us that "tourists take taxis, travellers take the metro!" As we navigated the underground with our backpacks, sidebags, two bags of food, and three jugs of water, we certainly failed to blend in.
We settled into our third class compartments a little before the train took off. The three of us were joined by Galina, or Glinda the Magical Cupcake, as I like to call her (cupcake is our code name for Soviet). Galina, despite being an anti-Semitic Pole-hater, is very sweet - as sweet as a cupcake can be! ...Does Georgetown Cupcakes deliver??? Across from us, a jiggling woman spends her time either staring at us, or laying sprawled out on her tiny bed sleeping the day away.
It seems as though the three of us are the only ones here to appreciate the epic glory of this trip. The smell of wood burning stoves (my favorite) fill the carriage as we click-clack past wooden cottages and rural villages. The sight of the sunset over rolling hills and countrless white birch trees. The sound of the train as it roars into Russia's depths - clanking, rumbling, comforting to the ear. The taste of Paprika Pringles, kelbasa, and smooth vodka warm one's soul. The feel of rough sheets and crisp air. These are the things that make this journey great. In only six hours, I have begun to contemplate the beauty of little things. In fact, this has been one of my favorite lessons of this trip so far. The way sun reflects perfectly on puddles after the rain, the taste of bread, a smile, an empty bottle. As I sit here reflecting on this pinnacle teaching of Buddhism, Karen puts an earbud in my ear. A fun song with a '90s feel. One lyric hit me with impeccable timing: "learn to appreciate these simple little things." I have found the theme for my philosophical quest, and only hope I can carry it with me.
...the taste of bread...
Giggles and speedily spoken Russian come from down the hall and sweat is beginning to form again without air conditioning to ward it off. A lengthy whisper turns my head. A Muslim man, ethnically Russian, is on his knees, finger tips to his temples, mat sprawled out, bowing towards Mecca. This train ride has really just begun, but is utterly magnificent.
I fall asleep missing my best friend, Damian.
I fall asleep missing my best friend, Damian.
PS - Alive Again
Where in the World is Captain America: St. Basil's Cathedral
Captain America protecting America in front of the lollipop domes of St. Basil's Cathedral in Moscow.
Where in the World is Captain America: Red Square
Captain America battling the Soviets in Moscow's Red Square.
Where in the World is Captain America: The Wall Surrounding Moscow's Kremlin
Captain America climbing the wall protecting Moscow's Kremlin - will he make it in undetected?
Moscow in Photos
Cathedral of Christ Our Savior
One of Moscow's Insanely Talented Metro Performers
St. Basil's Cathedral in Red Square
St. Basil's Cathedral in Red Square
The Best Damn Dumplings in Moscow
Some Random Beautiful Church
A Flower by the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier
A Cathedral in the Kremlin Compound
Lenin's Tomb in Red Square
The Doorway of a Cathedral in the Kremlin Compound
PS - Rome
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Moscow
The craziness of Moscow began on the train, with countless faux pas, cramped top bunks, boiling heat, and being separated (Karen and Michael in one cart and me in another). The ride got better as the train descended closer and closer upon the capital city of Russia. We were greeted by an extraordinarily intoxicated young lad, who took an interest in our group as we huddled off to the side looking at a map; in an effort to evade him, we went back into the train station and up to the platform. Seemingly in the safe, the man appeared on the platform, although not to bother us directly. This time around, he had taken a liking to throwing glass bottles of beer against the concrete floor - sending innocent bystanders running away and security guards running towards him. We decided it was best to leave the train station area and hail a cab, so we headed out to the closest main street where seven seperate middle aged men took it upon themselves to offer us a ride as a taxi - we declined.
The taxi that we did manage to grab took us to our hostel, Godzilla Hostel, the largest in Moscow. With three floors, loads of kitchens and bathrooms, a lounge area, and a comfortable interior design, Godzilla is definitely worth the ~ $30 a night - not to mention that the same people from our last hostel are here and there are several other great folks. We met two interesting Australians who brought us to their favorite street vendor for beer, which we drank as we watched American Beauty in the hostel lounge.
Our first full day was a whirlwind. My eyes soaked up Red Square, St. Basil's Cathedral, GUM, the Cathedral of Our Savior, and countless carefully crafted breathtaking buildings. My mouth basked in the glory of caviar flavored potato chips, kvhas (a delicious drink that tastes like a mix between beer and apple cider), and dumplings dipped in sour cream. One particularly enjoyable experience that aroused all of my senses was the process of enjoying ice cream in the shade of the Kremlin and Red Square. After a very full day, we headed back to our hostel; while doing so, we walked about a mile or so too far. Perhaps it was the intrigue of Moscow that distracted us from making the correct turn? When we finally got back, we watched the Hangover with the Canadians and Brits (whom I have affectionately nicknamed the Commonwealthers). What a great day indeed!
The second day in Moscow started early and brought us back to Red Square with the Commonwealthers. While we stood in line at Lenin's Mausoleum, a handful of our group went to McDonald's to grab breakfast and bring it back to eat in line (I withstood as I'm still maintaining a moratorium on McDonald's, Wendy's, and Burger King). As I stood there watching them eat from the pinnacle of capitalism, I couldn't help by laugh at he irony: here they were, in Red Square, eating McDonald's and waiting in line to see the embalmed body of the first Chairman of the Soviet Union: Vladimir Lenin. Once we got past the metal detectors, we walked along the Kremlin's outer wall and saw the plaques that informed us of the important Russians who were buried there (Joseph Stalin, Yuri Gagarin, etc). Inside the Mausoleum, it was dead quiet as we gawked at the perfectly preserved body of a madman (I think we weren't allowed to talk out of fear of waking him). When we were finished there, one of the Canadians, Amy Leah, wanted to go to Starbucks to buy a mug (she's been collecting Starbucks mugs from around the world as she raps up her lifelong dream of seeing 100 of the 1000 places to see before you die) - again I laughed at the irony (yay capitalism!) We all grabbed a bite to eat and some drinks before we bid them goodbye. Hopefully we'll reconnect in either Irkutsk or Ulan Bator, but I'm not sure. It was sad to see them go, but so is the life of a traveler. The post-Commonwealthers era of our trip started with a return to Red Square and the drinking of some more delicious kvhas. It seemed to be the most beautiful day we could have asked for until it began thunderstorming. Luckily we had just gotten into the ticket office and bought our tickets to the armory (or so we thought), and then we jumped into a store to pass the time. The rain subsided quickly and we set out to St. Basil's again because the lighting was beautiful. We then headed to the line for the Kremlin and enjoyed the beautiful smell of fresh rain, flowers, and Moscow in the spring (this beautiful smell was marred only be the wretched smell of the underground bathrooms that literally had us on the verge of vomiting... word to the wise: if you're at the Red Square and have to use the restroom... hold it in). Once we got into the Kremlin walls, we stood in line to the armory, only to realize that we hadn't been given tickets to the armory and were instead given tickets to the Kremlin Cathedrals. This turned out to be a great thing, as I didn't care to see the armory and the cathedrals were stunning, as all Russian churches are. After this, we headed to a market, which was overpriced. These people could spot tourists from a mile away, and Karen's great Russian didn't fool them (perhaps me and Michael stood out like a sore thumb). I bought some gifts, we had some delicious dinner, and then headed home for a nice relaxing evening of pizza and movies.
We are getting ready to leave for the Trans Siberian Railway now, so y'all won't here from me again for a few days. See you all in Irkutsk! Poka! (Pictures of Moscow to come when I arrive in Irkutsk.)
The taxi that we did manage to grab took us to our hostel, Godzilla Hostel, the largest in Moscow. With three floors, loads of kitchens and bathrooms, a lounge area, and a comfortable interior design, Godzilla is definitely worth the ~ $30 a night - not to mention that the same people from our last hostel are here and there are several other great folks. We met two interesting Australians who brought us to their favorite street vendor for beer, which we drank as we watched American Beauty in the hostel lounge.
Our first full day was a whirlwind. My eyes soaked up Red Square, St. Basil's Cathedral, GUM, the Cathedral of Our Savior, and countless carefully crafted breathtaking buildings. My mouth basked in the glory of caviar flavored potato chips, kvhas (a delicious drink that tastes like a mix between beer and apple cider), and dumplings dipped in sour cream. One particularly enjoyable experience that aroused all of my senses was the process of enjoying ice cream in the shade of the Kremlin and Red Square. After a very full day, we headed back to our hostel; while doing so, we walked about a mile or so too far. Perhaps it was the intrigue of Moscow that distracted us from making the correct turn? When we finally got back, we watched the Hangover with the Canadians and Brits (whom I have affectionately nicknamed the Commonwealthers). What a great day indeed!
The second day in Moscow started early and brought us back to Red Square with the Commonwealthers. While we stood in line at Lenin's Mausoleum, a handful of our group went to McDonald's to grab breakfast and bring it back to eat in line (I withstood as I'm still maintaining a moratorium on McDonald's, Wendy's, and Burger King). As I stood there watching them eat from the pinnacle of capitalism, I couldn't help by laugh at he irony: here they were, in Red Square, eating McDonald's and waiting in line to see the embalmed body of the first Chairman of the Soviet Union: Vladimir Lenin. Once we got past the metal detectors, we walked along the Kremlin's outer wall and saw the plaques that informed us of the important Russians who were buried there (Joseph Stalin, Yuri Gagarin, etc). Inside the Mausoleum, it was dead quiet as we gawked at the perfectly preserved body of a madman (I think we weren't allowed to talk out of fear of waking him). When we were finished there, one of the Canadians, Amy Leah, wanted to go to Starbucks to buy a mug (she's been collecting Starbucks mugs from around the world as she raps up her lifelong dream of seeing 100 of the 1000 places to see before you die) - again I laughed at the irony (yay capitalism!) We all grabbed a bite to eat and some drinks before we bid them goodbye. Hopefully we'll reconnect in either Irkutsk or Ulan Bator, but I'm not sure. It was sad to see them go, but so is the life of a traveler. The post-Commonwealthers era of our trip started with a return to Red Square and the drinking of some more delicious kvhas. It seemed to be the most beautiful day we could have asked for until it began thunderstorming. Luckily we had just gotten into the ticket office and bought our tickets to the armory (or so we thought), and then we jumped into a store to pass the time. The rain subsided quickly and we set out to St. Basil's again because the lighting was beautiful. We then headed to the line for the Kremlin and enjoyed the beautiful smell of fresh rain, flowers, and Moscow in the spring (this beautiful smell was marred only be the wretched smell of the underground bathrooms that literally had us on the verge of vomiting... word to the wise: if you're at the Red Square and have to use the restroom... hold it in). Once we got into the Kremlin walls, we stood in line to the armory, only to realize that we hadn't been given tickets to the armory and were instead given tickets to the Kremlin Cathedrals. This turned out to be a great thing, as I didn't care to see the armory and the cathedrals were stunning, as all Russian churches are. After this, we headed to a market, which was overpriced. These people could spot tourists from a mile away, and Karen's great Russian didn't fool them (perhaps me and Michael stood out like a sore thumb). I bought some gifts, we had some delicious dinner, and then headed home for a nice relaxing evening of pizza and movies.
We are getting ready to leave for the Trans Siberian Railway now, so y'all won't here from me again for a few days. See you all in Irkutsk! Poka! (Pictures of Moscow to come when I arrive in Irkutsk.)
Friday, May 20, 2011
St. Petersburg
Flying into this city, one can see the remnants of Soviet-era housing laid out around St. Petersburg. Walking around this city, one can see the remnants of Soviet-era culture painted on the faces of the residents. An interesting mix of classic Cold War buildings and capitalist classics such as McDonald's and Subway line the main Nyevski Prospekt. An odd place indeed, St. Petersburg seems like it hasn't been updated since the 1980s (which could explain all of the scaffolding and construction at present).
Russia has an intriguing feel, and Russians have a strong persona. The people are harsh, battered by failed economics and politics, cold weather, and a grueling history, but the friendly ones stand out like a sore thumb. We quickly realized that rudneness is just a front for strangers, and as soon as a good conversation is kicked off, Russians' attitudes change quickly. The most friendly people we have encountered are the owners and operators of Apple Hostel on Italyanskya in the Historic District. They are incredibly helpful and go above and beyond the call of duty to make their guests feel comfortable. The oldest of the owners, the matriarch perhaps, offered Karen and I some of the most delicious bread and cheese treat called pirog csiram. The only smiling Russians I've encountered work here. I would absolutely recommend this place to anyone stopping by St. Petersburg; it's clean, cozy, and close to nearly every site you'd want to see.
The architecture of this city is truly stunning - especially the churches. Russians pay attention to every detail and it shows. While there, we experienced "White Nights," which is when the sun rises before 6am and sets around 11pm. Perfect for exploring and photography, this unusual sun schedule added to our bodies' confusion over time changes, but it's worth it for sure.
While I'm enjoying Russia and have taken a new interest in European culture, I still very much prefer Asia. I miss it, I feel more at home there than I do here. I'm repeatedly entertained when people come up to us and talk feverishly in Russian - but I get embarrassed when I can't respond in their native tongue. I suppose this isn't a problem in Asia when people just take one look at me and assume there's no way in hell that a white guy would know what they're trying to tell me and we just resort to the universal language of hand symbols and drawings. Luckily we have Karen to communicate through while here!
Just a quick itinerary update: on our second day, we saw the Russian Museum and Hermitage - both spectacular on the inside, the Hermitage with an equally spectacular facade.
Sorry for the rambling, there's a lot on my mind and it's tough to translate them into words. More to come!
Here are some pictures of St. Petersburg:
Russia has an intriguing feel, and Russians have a strong persona. The people are harsh, battered by failed economics and politics, cold weather, and a grueling history, but the friendly ones stand out like a sore thumb. We quickly realized that rudneness is just a front for strangers, and as soon as a good conversation is kicked off, Russians' attitudes change quickly. The most friendly people we have encountered are the owners and operators of Apple Hostel on Italyanskya in the Historic District. They are incredibly helpful and go above and beyond the call of duty to make their guests feel comfortable. The oldest of the owners, the matriarch perhaps, offered Karen and I some of the most delicious bread and cheese treat called pirog csiram. The only smiling Russians I've encountered work here. I would absolutely recommend this place to anyone stopping by St. Petersburg; it's clean, cozy, and close to nearly every site you'd want to see.
The architecture of this city is truly stunning - especially the churches. Russians pay attention to every detail and it shows. While there, we experienced "White Nights," which is when the sun rises before 6am and sets around 11pm. Perfect for exploring and photography, this unusual sun schedule added to our bodies' confusion over time changes, but it's worth it for sure.
While I'm enjoying Russia and have taken a new interest in European culture, I still very much prefer Asia. I miss it, I feel more at home there than I do here. I'm repeatedly entertained when people come up to us and talk feverishly in Russian - but I get embarrassed when I can't respond in their native tongue. I suppose this isn't a problem in Asia when people just take one look at me and assume there's no way in hell that a white guy would know what they're trying to tell me and we just resort to the universal language of hand symbols and drawings. Luckily we have Karen to communicate through while here!
Just a quick itinerary update: on our second day, we saw the Russian Museum and Hermitage - both spectacular on the inside, the Hermitage with an equally spectacular facade.
Sorry for the rambling, there's a lot on my mind and it's tough to translate them into words. More to come!
Here are some pictures of St. Petersburg:
PS - Adele's Lovesong
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