We arrived in Tomsk after a dreary train ride due to the overcast skies above. We had barely taken 10 steps along the platform when a cheerful young man came up to us and asked : "Which is Kin Yan?" with a grin on his face. We had met Nikita, our host in Tomsk. Nikita is a 22+ year old IT worker who is emgaged to Marina, an avid cook who has managed to fatten up all those she has cooked for. Nikita is a rather funny guy whose English isn't very good, and mumbles in Russian while giving us an apologetic look when he can't say something in english.
Tomsk had been hit by a hurricane the night before we arrived. Large sections of the city had no water or elecricity, including Nikita's house. Nikita's house was a old-looking two story house and looked rather run down. However, after evading the dog, we found that appearances were decieving. We were welcomed into a comfortable, warm home (which would later become even more comfortable when the electricity and water supply were reconnected.) Nikita fed us a little breakfast and we took a rest. Soon, Nikita's fiance, Marina and Elena, a HospitalityClub member who is an English teacher, arrived at Nikita's place and we had a nice chat over second breakfast. (I believe that Marina said we eat like hobbits. Elevenses, anyone? =D)
Washing up was quickly accomplished and Nikita took us out to meet a group of students who were studying under Elena. Most of them were cultural studies students and had good English, thus they were rounded up by Elena and Nikita to guide us around the city. We started off on a hill overlooking the city, where Tomsk was founded. There was a wooden tower there built atop the hill. We all ascended and enjoyed the breeze as we beheld the city in the late morning sunshine. Our guides pointed out several points throughout the city. One of our new friends even showed us her hometown just on the horizon, midden by mountains but landmarked by four massive cooling towers rising from a nuclear power plant. Her friends joked that the plant was the reason why she was so tall. =)
Our party strolled through the city while chatting about student life in Tomsk. Tomsk is known as Russia's university city, with half a dozen excellent academic centers located in this historical city. The preservation of Tomsk was in part due to a decision by city officials not to have the main line of the Trans-Siberian railway pass through. As a result, Tomsk is only accessible by a railway branch from Novosibirsk and is bypassed by the commercial artery of Siberia.
In addition to its universities, Tomsk is also famous for its wooden architecture. As we walked around the city, we saw many examples of beautiful wooden structures and intricate carvings and decorations that were remarkably well preserved. Tall modern buildings are neighboured by two story wooden houses, with carvings on the awnings and down the wood panels of the walls. We walked down the main streets of the city, visited a little agricultural pond (on which floated a little house for the resident duck, which was nowhere to be seen), and even a children's carnival. We were also proudly introduced to Tomsk's claim to fame : the several universities that populate the city. I always feel a tinge of electricity in myself whenever I walk in halls of learning.
Later, we went to a war monument that was situated on the top of a hill, overlooking the Tom river. The river curved around the hill and the city, and from that spot we watched the shadow of clouds glide across the countryside below us.
Back at Nikita's place that evening, we were treated to a very enjoyable home cooked meal by Marina. It was a sort of mixed rice with assorted ingredients inside, served with a very yummy mayonnaise salad. It had been quite a while since we last enjoyed a good homecooked meal (that wasn't cooked by us) and we relished every bite. After dinner, we headed up to the roof of Nikita's house and watched the sunset being overtaken by black storm clouds. Soon, the clouds got uncomfortably near and we retired for the night.
The next day, we were hoping to have a relaxing time but Nikita had more plans for us. He had arranged for us to meet another HospitalityClub member for more city touring. So, we dragged ourselves out of bed early. Marina brought us to see a rather amusing wolf statue that would growl and sing a song if you pressed a button on its tummy with a coin. Unfortunately, it was broken and only managed some odd gurgles. Hmm. We waited for our new contacts at a cafe and soon met up with another group of students. This time, we walked on the back streets and quiet roads of Tomsk, admiring the wooden architecture and the quiet side of the city. Our guide that day enjoyed photography too, so we had some fun taking unusual photos. Finally we headed up to another roof, this this of an apartment building. We had a little photography session against the backdrop of the city and the hills. A strong breeze provided more photo amusement, but also ushered in another bank of rainclouds. We ducked back into the apartment and waited until Nikita came to drive us back.
We were welcomed by Marina, who was just getting started with yet another homecooked meal. We washed up and packed and when we were done, another delicious meal (pasta!) had been prepared for us. Despite Marina's attempt to make more food, we still managed to eat everything (hobbits!). Some gift exchanging later, we were on our way to the train station. Nikita, Marina, and several of our Tomsk guides were there to see us off and perform the traditional farewell at the train station.
Nikita and Marina were just awesome hosts and even managed to feed us overly tall hobbits very successfully. They mentioned that it was their first time hosting international travellers. They certainly pulled out all the stops to make our stay in Tomsk a very welcome and enjoyable one. Thank you so much Nikita and Marina and all those who took us around Tomsk!
Next Stop : Olkhorn Island, Lake Baikal!
-ky
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Children Playing
Children play in Ulan-ude. They play together in just about the same way I've seen children play throughout the world.
A group of four kids are playing on one of those playground rotating wheels. Everyone seems to instictively know when it is their turn to push the others. They run around each other, spinning wildly as the colours of the bars blur together.
Suddenly they jump up and jump on their bicycles and speed off to cries of "Arbat! Arbat!", apparently their destination. The wheel spins lazily, empty.
A grandchild hops aboard and her grandmother gently nudges the wheel back into motion. The child's face is filled with joy as her mouth gapes with pleasure, her face alternating between sunlight and shadow. I can't recall
such innocent, simple happiness.
Another boy and girl hop on ; they want to go faster! The poor grandchild quickly gets upset, and the two people seperated by a generation hold hands and leave. The new occupants spin languidly around, seated on the bars while enjoying their ice cream. They soon get tired and waltz off to their next conquest.
Red, blue, green and yellow bars blur together again, with no children to guide them. The primary colours, depending on which theory of colour you prefer. What an odd thought. Hmm.
-ky
A group of four kids are playing on one of those playground rotating wheels. Everyone seems to instictively know when it is their turn to push the others. They run around each other, spinning wildly as the colours of the bars blur together.
Suddenly they jump up and jump on their bicycles and speed off to cries of "Arbat! Arbat!", apparently their destination. The wheel spins lazily, empty.
A grandchild hops aboard and her grandmother gently nudges the wheel back into motion. The child's face is filled with joy as her mouth gapes with pleasure, her face alternating between sunlight and shadow. I can't recall
such innocent, simple happiness.
Another boy and girl hop on ; they want to go faster! The poor grandchild quickly gets upset, and the two people seperated by a generation hold hands and leave. The new occupants spin languidly around, seated on the bars while enjoying their ice cream. They soon get tired and waltz off to their next conquest.
Red, blue, green and yellow bars blur together again, with no children to guide them. The primary colours, depending on which theory of colour you prefer. What an odd thought. Hmm.
-ky
I to UU
I sit next to the window of the train bound for ulan ude, and watch the trees, streams, hills and valleys pass.
it is an enriching experience to hear the train rumble along the tracks and to feel the heartbeat of the train as we run along.
it's been 5 days since we last took the train. oddly, the whole train experience feels somewhat distant. however, the constant thoughts come running through and I feel that I am in a somewhat familiar place again.
I guess i'm getting old.
-l
it is an enriching experience to hear the train rumble along the tracks and to feel the heartbeat of the train as we run along.
it's been 5 days since we last took the train. oddly, the whole train experience feels somewhat distant. however, the constant thoughts come running through and I feel that I am in a somewhat familiar place again.
I guess i'm getting old.
-l
olkhorn island
today we went to take a ride across the island. boy was it a ride.
isaac tan chi ming, if you are reading this, you should come and bike in olkhorn island, irkutsk, russia.
first, how we got to olkhorn island.
before I stepped off the train, I talked to a guy who turned out to be from the czech republic and had spent a semester in tomsk studying civil engineering. good thing he knew some english and could speak russian, so we took a taxi together to the bus station.
a minibus guy, looking all shifty and sneaky, got us a minibus to olkhorn island for 390 roubles (15+ usd). a 5 hr ride and a 1.5 hr wait for the ferry (where we had some splendid shots) and we were in khuzhir village.
the bad thing about lonely planet's guidebook (or lying planet), is that it generates so much publicity that prices get jacked up. it so happened for nikita's, where we are staying for 3 nights. price was 700 (28 usd) per person per night, including 3 meals. and we were being housed in a place off the main kingdom of nikita's. LP said it was 530 for everything, and the receptionist replied that the LATEST edition was 2 yrs old. that was the most confident load of bull i've heard for the past 1 yr.
so I put on the poor meek face and ask if there was a student price, and luckily we got 600. i'm not really complaining, since the food portions are generous and it isn't all that bad. but the receptionists are quite a cocky lot.
did I mention the little kingdom here? nikita's a former table tennis champion and has built quite a self sufficient little estate for himself. it's situated close to the cliffs, has a fenced up village with cabins, dining hall, banyas ( russian saunas), toliets, bike shop. and I think he has a son (about 30 yrs old?) with plaited hair ( both on the scalp and on the chin). I guess the son could be called Petunia. and I really did smell burning marijuana while reggae was playing (Jah rasafari!!). we were talking about this kingdom here, and it seems like it's a kind of reverse Smurf village. all we saw were girls and nikita (papa smurf) and petunia. I really do sound a little bitter, but that's cause I really hate it when
1) there is a some unreasonable pricing due to monopoly and
2) there are cocky staff due to the monopolistic company.
but the food makes up for it. there's 3 courses for every meal, unlimited tea and free sugar and water too. note: they charge for sugar, here in russia.
anyhow, we got our bikes with jeff (an american who's travelling to beijing and then india nepal and tibet) and kah (who's finishing up his year long round-the-world trip) and headed off to moscow tomorroe. our gears weren't working too well, and we were not too conditioned as compared to the other 2 who were in mongolia trekking for 2 weeks, thus they went ahead.
quoting a, this place is like the cheap swiss alps. we cycled UP the steppes (bukit timah hill but stretch the distance) and after zooming through the wondrously lit and pine scented forests, emerged onto a great clearing. it's flanked by the hills, the field has blue pink white yellow flowers poking their heads up, and the sky is an amazing blue, swathed in carpaccio-like sheets of white.
and the place is quiet. no sounds of Man, just flies buzzing and eating the salt from our skin, the wind and the crickets. nothing else. amazing. it's just like the clearing near dairy farm towards the end of the mountain bike route in BTH, isaac.
we head further and reached the other side of the island. the locals say that dipping yourself in the very chilly waters grant you a few more decades of longevity. I did it twice, so i'm not sure if I get the life extension X2 or the life extension squared.
cramps soon came once we started back on the bikes (the return was mostly uphill), so I had to stop and ask for salt from some campers. they were giving me weird looks when I asked them.we reached the so-called lake on the map, but it looked more like a muddy pond, where we rested our cramped legs, shared chocolate, and tried to enjoy the view of the muddy pond.
we hit more uphill slopes, walking most of the time, and eventually reached the downhill portion of the steppe.
isaac, you should have been on this ride. it was more than pretty fast (and i'm using those 3.0 off-road tires). a bird took off 10 m ahead of me and I nearly caught up with it in 4 seconds before it took a sharp corner to the left. it was really really fast. shiok man. imagine, almost 1.5 km of downhill, with a few slopes of gradient similar to the starting slope of BTH to give you sonic the hedgehog-like speed boosts. and not much cow/horse/large mammal pats to mar your speed.
WAH LAU.
of course, all things must come to an end, and we soon hit the flat dirt road with deceiving sand patches. we took a road to the beach, where I spent a sorry 5 mins trying to enjoy the amazing view because I was so dehydrated. you see, I stupidly did not bring my water, since I thought 2 litres of water among 3 of us, with 30 km of biking would be more than sufficient. so I drank no more than 300 ml of water throughout the whole 5+hr ride. we got back to the village of the smurfs ( I can still imagine them singing 'it's a small world after all' while holding hands in a circle. and swaying their heads too.) at 4 +pm. this has become my 2nd most exhausting experience i've had. and my first, due to dehydration. all the other times i've been exhausted, I'm still considerably hydrated. not this time though. I had pretty little saliva left and my breath was extremely stale.
I plopped my bike wearily (very), made my way to the dining hall, and greedily ate whatever was there (buckwheat pancakes made from this morning's leftover buckwheat porridge) and drank copious amounts of hot sweet black tea.
a&k soon joined me. I put on the sorriest face I could and asked the girl if there was still lunch. Thank God there was. there was fish soup with potatoes and cream, fried fish and russian sauerkraut and a beetroot salad with raisins and nuts. and tea of course. I wolfed it all down, rehydrated and made my way to my sweet precious bed. I missed it and I knew it missed me.
a 3 hr nap later, we had dinner, washed up and headed to the russian cliff to watch the russian sun set over the russian landscape, while we emptied our russian beer bottles.
now, i've just spent an hr or so typing, and I will lie on my russian bed to sleep. not before crossing the russian field to get to the russian hole(toilet) though... shucks.
joel and joshua lee, I still remember fraser's hill, pahang, malaysia in late nov 2003. here at olkhorn island, it's like fraser's hill, but with mongolian steppes, a giant lake and drier weather but with no afternoon tea and prata and teh halia.
we're spending the day walking around and just eating the meals provided. probably will read and we'll get up early to watch the sun rise over lake baikal tomorrow, before we leave for irkutsk to ride the circumbaikal railway. will have smoked omul ( a type of fish found only in lake baikal) and will definitely have lots of tea. with sugar of course.
-l
isaac tan chi ming, if you are reading this, you should come and bike in olkhorn island, irkutsk, russia.
first, how we got to olkhorn island.
before I stepped off the train, I talked to a guy who turned out to be from the czech republic and had spent a semester in tomsk studying civil engineering. good thing he knew some english and could speak russian, so we took a taxi together to the bus station.
a minibus guy, looking all shifty and sneaky, got us a minibus to olkhorn island for 390 roubles (15+ usd). a 5 hr ride and a 1.5 hr wait for the ferry (where we had some splendid shots) and we were in khuzhir village.
the bad thing about lonely planet's guidebook (or lying planet), is that it generates so much publicity that prices get jacked up. it so happened for nikita's, where we are staying for 3 nights. price was 700 (28 usd) per person per night, including 3 meals. and we were being housed in a place off the main kingdom of nikita's. LP said it was 530 for everything, and the receptionist replied that the LATEST edition was 2 yrs old. that was the most confident load of bull i've heard for the past 1 yr.
so I put on the poor meek face and ask if there was a student price, and luckily we got 600. i'm not really complaining, since the food portions are generous and it isn't all that bad. but the receptionists are quite a cocky lot.
did I mention the little kingdom here? nikita's a former table tennis champion and has built quite a self sufficient little estate for himself. it's situated close to the cliffs, has a fenced up village with cabins, dining hall, banyas ( russian saunas), toliets, bike shop. and I think he has a son (about 30 yrs old?) with plaited hair ( both on the scalp and on the chin). I guess the son could be called Petunia. and I really did smell burning marijuana while reggae was playing (Jah rasafari!!). we were talking about this kingdom here, and it seems like it's a kind of reverse Smurf village. all we saw were girls and nikita (papa smurf) and petunia. I really do sound a little bitter, but that's cause I really hate it when
1) there is a some unreasonable pricing due to monopoly and
2) there are cocky staff due to the monopolistic company.
but the food makes up for it. there's 3 courses for every meal, unlimited tea and free sugar and water too. note: they charge for sugar, here in russia.
anyhow, we got our bikes with jeff (an american who's travelling to beijing and then india nepal and tibet) and kah (who's finishing up his year long round-the-world trip) and headed off to moscow tomorroe. our gears weren't working too well, and we were not too conditioned as compared to the other 2 who were in mongolia trekking for 2 weeks, thus they went ahead.
quoting a, this place is like the cheap swiss alps. we cycled UP the steppes (bukit timah hill but stretch the distance) and after zooming through the wondrously lit and pine scented forests, emerged onto a great clearing. it's flanked by the hills, the field has blue pink white yellow flowers poking their heads up, and the sky is an amazing blue, swathed in carpaccio-like sheets of white.
and the place is quiet. no sounds of Man, just flies buzzing and eating the salt from our skin, the wind and the crickets. nothing else. amazing. it's just like the clearing near dairy farm towards the end of the mountain bike route in BTH, isaac.
we head further and reached the other side of the island. the locals say that dipping yourself in the very chilly waters grant you a few more decades of longevity. I did it twice, so i'm not sure if I get the life extension X2 or the life extension squared.
cramps soon came once we started back on the bikes (the return was mostly uphill), so I had to stop and ask for salt from some campers. they were giving me weird looks when I asked them.we reached the so-called lake on the map, but it looked more like a muddy pond, where we rested our cramped legs, shared chocolate, and tried to enjoy the view of the muddy pond.
we hit more uphill slopes, walking most of the time, and eventually reached the downhill portion of the steppe.
isaac, you should have been on this ride. it was more than pretty fast (and i'm using those 3.0 off-road tires). a bird took off 10 m ahead of me and I nearly caught up with it in 4 seconds before it took a sharp corner to the left. it was really really fast. shiok man. imagine, almost 1.5 km of downhill, with a few slopes of gradient similar to the starting slope of BTH to give you sonic the hedgehog-like speed boosts. and not much cow/horse/large mammal pats to mar your speed.
WAH LAU.
of course, all things must come to an end, and we soon hit the flat dirt road with deceiving sand patches. we took a road to the beach, where I spent a sorry 5 mins trying to enjoy the amazing view because I was so dehydrated. you see, I stupidly did not bring my water, since I thought 2 litres of water among 3 of us, with 30 km of biking would be more than sufficient. so I drank no more than 300 ml of water throughout the whole 5+hr ride. we got back to the village of the smurfs ( I can still imagine them singing 'it's a small world after all' while holding hands in a circle. and swaying their heads too.) at 4 +pm. this has become my 2nd most exhausting experience i've had. and my first, due to dehydration. all the other times i've been exhausted, I'm still considerably hydrated. not this time though. I had pretty little saliva left and my breath was extremely stale.
I plopped my bike wearily (very), made my way to the dining hall, and greedily ate whatever was there (buckwheat pancakes made from this morning's leftover buckwheat porridge) and drank copious amounts of hot sweet black tea.
a&k soon joined me. I put on the sorriest face I could and asked the girl if there was still lunch. Thank God there was. there was fish soup with potatoes and cream, fried fish and russian sauerkraut and a beetroot salad with raisins and nuts. and tea of course. I wolfed it all down, rehydrated and made my way to my sweet precious bed. I missed it and I knew it missed me.
a 3 hr nap later, we had dinner, washed up and headed to the russian cliff to watch the russian sun set over the russian landscape, while we emptied our russian beer bottles.
now, i've just spent an hr or so typing, and I will lie on my russian bed to sleep. not before crossing the russian field to get to the russian hole(toilet) though... shucks.
joel and joshua lee, I still remember fraser's hill, pahang, malaysia in late nov 2003. here at olkhorn island, it's like fraser's hill, but with mongolian steppes, a giant lake and drier weather but with no afternoon tea and prata and teh halia.
we're spending the day walking around and just eating the meals provided. probably will read and we'll get up early to watch the sun rise over lake baikal tomorrow, before we leave for irkutsk to ride the circumbaikal railway. will have smoked omul ( a type of fish found only in lake baikal) and will definitely have lots of tea. with sugar of course.
-l
k to i
rolling along the tracks, somewhere around krasnoyarsk, in siberia, we cross a large gaping river, which seems to come from the distant mountains (hills?), veiled in mist. hills seem to erupt like sinosoidal sound waves. they crest and fall, sometimes in tandem to the rhythm of the train, at times to the silent beat in my head.
and along these slopes are certain inhabitants. some are wooden houses, built in respect to the aspect (onomatopoeia!), some are little pieces of grass, washed fresh from the previous shower, while others are trees of the taiga kind. they are tall and shrouded generously with a cloak of velvet green, but with awkward stark white naked trunks, punctuated with browish grey stripes.
come closer, they say. and the train obediently follows the hypnotic tired grey rails. as we edge closer to these 'flashers*', the marvellous feeling in me melts away. no longer do they look that interesting. their opulence and mystery seem to get wiped clean and all they look like are tired old guards of the hill.
pretty from far, far from pretty.
* because they're like dirty old men with green trenchcoats only.
-l
meet ewan(iwan?), dalgert and eriksia. do forgive me for my poor attempt at russian name spelling.
ewan is 32, eriksia is about the same age and dalgert is 25. ew and er are both mechanics.
er specialises in train carriages and I am guessing his specialisation is in the joints that link the carriages. I write that I guess, for I guessed from his hand signals and mine, while he was smoking. he was so excited and animated that he burnt himself and dropped the lighted cigarette. and he quickly picked it up, relighted and continued on his gesticulation. it seems the 3 second rule applies. however, I have witnessed an impressive 5 min rule, but that person was ravenous and it is a story for another time.
ew is also a mechanic and I guess he specialises in metals of some sort. again, I write that I guess, for he gesticulated to the 45 degs angled pipe that supports the upper bunk in the platskart (3rd class and cheapest) cabin. da (yes in paruski) da da I say, in a bright cloudy haze of sun, excitment and vodka.
dalgert is a mechanical engineer, on his way to ulan ude. UU is our next city after a week in irkutsk. he seeks work there and asked us to stay with him. a & k say it is awkward while I disagree, but we still politely decline and say that we have a hostel to stay in. he also listens to russian reggae, as do daria (from nizhny novgorod) and asya's husband (from kazan).
also, meet irina, aged 57, still with a good head of blond hair. she was on her way to krasnoyarsk for a 5 day retreat from being a book keeper. as well as a silver grandmother and her sister. and narcita, from chita. she looks 14, maybe 15, dresses like an 18 yr old and has a look that I cannot place my finger upon. she looks like she's half asian, half european, has strong cheekbones and slightly protruding eyes.
you might be wondering how we got to converse. I have in my possesion, a small thickish tome. it had a plasticky feel to it, now it has been made oily due to the various hands that have handled it. so it starts with someone introducing himself, me, in my conversation with irina, ew in his conversation with a. soon, the magic tome is used, and with some supplement from gesticulating hands and exaggerated facial expressions, the conversation proceeds.
I nearly forgot to introduce an old friend to you, didn't I? I last saw him in st petersburg, when he popped up with some strangers, who then became acquaintances, in a bar. it was such a surprise to see him again today!! he popped up again, without any warning in the same carriage that we were in. you see, this old friend of ours just mixes with anything, and is a very warm character. plus, he's so good at adapting to any situation and is excellent in introducing strangers to each other. did I mention that he turned all of us pink (some became red like a stop sign), because of his innate ability?
meet vodka, a colourless, near odourless spirit. russians drink it neat and chase it down with juice (cok, pronounced as sok).
dalgert insisted we drink, and so did ewan. once my eyelids became a little heavier and turned a healthy pink, dalgert insisted that we eat. so hello bread and salami. hence the oily phrasebook cover.
it is quite good, seriously. none of that throat burn that happens when you imbibe absolut or red smirnoff. grey goose exudes a strong alcoholic heat, but the ones i've had while in russia are surprisingly good!!
they slip down like tofu, and when I breathe out after it's gone down, I don't have any dragon breath. you don't really need a chaser for it. I can't taste any berries or notes of flowers or herbs. and I don't intend to try to. i'll just stick to trying to get my taste notes on wine right.
-l
the landscape here is amazingly. as we traverse the siberian region, the trees seem to change character. at times they look dowdy, old and tired, at times they look like tenacious survivors, at times they look triumphant.
the view is amazing. we've travelled along rides, rode up slopes and cornered, well, corners. and all the time, the amazing view is there.
it.just.takes.your.breath.away. the field stretches as far as the eye can see, right to the horizon, almost touching the clouds. it undulates. orange and yellow flowers gather riotously and trees grow close to each other. there are the few that stand nervously alone.
I can't put it into words, but the view is simply fantastic. if only you could see it for yourself.
-l
i'll try to write this without ambling merrily along.
i've been waiting for this ride, for more than a year. this train ride that I am on, 6 weeks from home, 3 weeks from aunty swee kat's place in london, a day from tomsk, 8 more hours to Irkutsk.
i'm happy, i'm glad, i'm not yet satisfied, I feel fulfilled partially, I think I might cry.
so this trip was decided for in about jan 2006, when a backpacking trip around europe didn't happen with a good friend, and my supervisor at work suggested taking a train from china into mongolia. he also couldn't make it due to leave complications, so I started to plan this trip.
come march, and I went to siem reap for 5 days. after that trip, I really felt that I had to travel, for there was so much to see. it isn't the sights that excite me the most, it's the getting away from things too familiar, it's the new experience fraught with nervousness, it's the fulfillment, it's trying to see things from a different point of view, it's an eye opening experience that will wither part of my myopia away.
so this train ride was imagined while kings of convenience played on in the main concert hall of esplanade, singapore, on the 17 of march 2006. I was seated with alan and isaac. now, the exact thing is happening, with 'know how' from KOC playing, while I sit at the window, watching the land run past me.
it's about introspection for me I guess? to think on the ride. i've had quite enough of churches and monasteries.
writing this hasn't emptied all feeling from me. perhaps it is a good thing? something that I keep and can return to again, when the land runs past me as I trundle along.
-l
and along these slopes are certain inhabitants. some are wooden houses, built in respect to the aspect (onomatopoeia!), some are little pieces of grass, washed fresh from the previous shower, while others are trees of the taiga kind. they are tall and shrouded generously with a cloak of velvet green, but with awkward stark white naked trunks, punctuated with browish grey stripes.
come closer, they say. and the train obediently follows the hypnotic tired grey rails. as we edge closer to these 'flashers*', the marvellous feeling in me melts away. no longer do they look that interesting. their opulence and mystery seem to get wiped clean and all they look like are tired old guards of the hill.
pretty from far, far from pretty.
* because they're like dirty old men with green trenchcoats only.
-l
meet ewan(iwan?), dalgert and eriksia. do forgive me for my poor attempt at russian name spelling.
ewan is 32, eriksia is about the same age and dalgert is 25. ew and er are both mechanics.
er specialises in train carriages and I am guessing his specialisation is in the joints that link the carriages. I write that I guess, for I guessed from his hand signals and mine, while he was smoking. he was so excited and animated that he burnt himself and dropped the lighted cigarette. and he quickly picked it up, relighted and continued on his gesticulation. it seems the 3 second rule applies. however, I have witnessed an impressive 5 min rule, but that person was ravenous and it is a story for another time.
ew is also a mechanic and I guess he specialises in metals of some sort. again, I write that I guess, for he gesticulated to the 45 degs angled pipe that supports the upper bunk in the platskart (3rd class and cheapest) cabin. da (yes in paruski) da da I say, in a bright cloudy haze of sun, excitment and vodka.
dalgert is a mechanical engineer, on his way to ulan ude. UU is our next city after a week in irkutsk. he seeks work there and asked us to stay with him. a & k say it is awkward while I disagree, but we still politely decline and say that we have a hostel to stay in. he also listens to russian reggae, as do daria (from nizhny novgorod) and asya's husband (from kazan).
also, meet irina, aged 57, still with a good head of blond hair. she was on her way to krasnoyarsk for a 5 day retreat from being a book keeper. as well as a silver grandmother and her sister. and narcita, from chita. she looks 14, maybe 15, dresses like an 18 yr old and has a look that I cannot place my finger upon. she looks like she's half asian, half european, has strong cheekbones and slightly protruding eyes.
you might be wondering how we got to converse. I have in my possesion, a small thickish tome. it had a plasticky feel to it, now it has been made oily due to the various hands that have handled it. so it starts with someone introducing himself, me, in my conversation with irina, ew in his conversation with a. soon, the magic tome is used, and with some supplement from gesticulating hands and exaggerated facial expressions, the conversation proceeds.
I nearly forgot to introduce an old friend to you, didn't I? I last saw him in st petersburg, when he popped up with some strangers, who then became acquaintances, in a bar. it was such a surprise to see him again today!! he popped up again, without any warning in the same carriage that we were in. you see, this old friend of ours just mixes with anything, and is a very warm character. plus, he's so good at adapting to any situation and is excellent in introducing strangers to each other. did I mention that he turned all of us pink (some became red like a stop sign), because of his innate ability?
meet vodka, a colourless, near odourless spirit. russians drink it neat and chase it down with juice (cok, pronounced as sok).
dalgert insisted we drink, and so did ewan. once my eyelids became a little heavier and turned a healthy pink, dalgert insisted that we eat. so hello bread and salami. hence the oily phrasebook cover.
it is quite good, seriously. none of that throat burn that happens when you imbibe absolut or red smirnoff. grey goose exudes a strong alcoholic heat, but the ones i've had while in russia are surprisingly good!!
they slip down like tofu, and when I breathe out after it's gone down, I don't have any dragon breath. you don't really need a chaser for it. I can't taste any berries or notes of flowers or herbs. and I don't intend to try to. i'll just stick to trying to get my taste notes on wine right.
-l
the landscape here is amazingly. as we traverse the siberian region, the trees seem to change character. at times they look dowdy, old and tired, at times they look like tenacious survivors, at times they look triumphant.
the view is amazing. we've travelled along rides, rode up slopes and cornered, well, corners. and all the time, the amazing view is there.
it.just.takes.your.breath.away. the field stretches as far as the eye can see, right to the horizon, almost touching the clouds. it undulates. orange and yellow flowers gather riotously and trees grow close to each other. there are the few that stand nervously alone.
I can't put it into words, but the view is simply fantastic. if only you could see it for yourself.
-l
i'll try to write this without ambling merrily along.
i've been waiting for this ride, for more than a year. this train ride that I am on, 6 weeks from home, 3 weeks from aunty swee kat's place in london, a day from tomsk, 8 more hours to Irkutsk.
i'm happy, i'm glad, i'm not yet satisfied, I feel fulfilled partially, I think I might cry.
so this trip was decided for in about jan 2006, when a backpacking trip around europe didn't happen with a good friend, and my supervisor at work suggested taking a train from china into mongolia. he also couldn't make it due to leave complications, so I started to plan this trip.
come march, and I went to siem reap for 5 days. after that trip, I really felt that I had to travel, for there was so much to see. it isn't the sights that excite me the most, it's the getting away from things too familiar, it's the new experience fraught with nervousness, it's the fulfillment, it's trying to see things from a different point of view, it's an eye opening experience that will wither part of my myopia away.
so this train ride was imagined while kings of convenience played on in the main concert hall of esplanade, singapore, on the 17 of march 2006. I was seated with alan and isaac. now, the exact thing is happening, with 'know how' from KOC playing, while I sit at the window, watching the land run past me.
it's about introspection for me I guess? to think on the ride. i've had quite enough of churches and monasteries.
writing this hasn't emptied all feeling from me. perhaps it is a good thing? something that I keep and can return to again, when the land runs past me as I trundle along.
-l
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Train encounters
B/W OMSK and TOMSK (17 June)
Another 14 hours stuck in crammed conditions in a top bunk where there isn't even room to sit up straight. Our little 2 hour breather in Omsk involved a visit to the local fried chicked joint and the supermarket. This train is worse than the last as there is neither ventilation nor air-condition, only the stifling stuffy air of the upper regions of the carriage.
I decide to walk around the carriage, hoping to find some empty place at a lower bunk so I can actually sit up straight for a while. Soon I find one at the head of the carriage. I sit down and continue to read my book. In between tales of deforestation and environmental disaster, a man comes in reeking of alcohol and smoke and sits across me from the table. My eyes remain fixed on the page. Soon he buys a Baltika 5 and opens the can a few inches from my book. The smell of beer wafts into my nose as he takes a slurp.
"You don't speak Russian?" He breaks the silence, pointing at my book. I shake my head at the youngish looking man with short-cropped blond hair and blue eyes.
"I learnt English in school," he says with much difficulty, his eyes scanning as though he were looking for the words in some crevice inside his mind. "I going home, 20 mins to home, home, home, home...." he sings, breaking out into laughter.
"My name is Anton he says," offering his hand. I offer my hand and name in return. Anton offers me his beer. I stare at the cold can momentarily and politely refuse.
"I like Batika. 3, 5 and 7," he says. I tell him my favorites.
"How about vodka?" I ask.
"Of course, I am Russian." I laugh with him.
"Where is your motherland?" He asks in the most matter-of-fact manner. "Singapore," I say and he nods with a little puzzled expression on his face. I stare out of the window wondering where this conversation was going and try to return to my book.
I hear his eyes scanning again for the words. "What language you speak?"
"I speak English, China and Ispania," I reply, vaguely recalling wrongly the Russian word for Spanish.
"I Russian and English choot choot. My English teacher, good," he grins and gives a thumbs up, "very good woman." I nod and smile in return.
"Do you smoke?" He asks me.
For a while a little internal conflict rages on in my conscience as I weigh my resolution to stop my infrequent affairs wih cigarettes and sharing one with a Russian.
"Sometimes," I say weakly.
"If I smoke, will you smoke with me?"
I agree.
We head over to the smoking section between carriages and he offers me a cigarette before dropiing his one on the floor. He laughs and I pick it up for him, fearing he might fall over in his state if he tried to do it himself. We light up and take a drag, sharing the silence for a moment.
The train stops.
A train attendant barges in through the door, shooting off in Russian at him. He obviously forgot his stop. He stubs his cigarettes our and looks me in the eye, offering his hand, "good luck, Andrew." I shake his hand and smile.
And then I am left alone in the smoke-filled room with a cigarette not even half-finished between my fingers. I take a final drag and stub it out, a little disappointed at the brevity.
-Andrew
(Disclaimer for mum: don't worry, I haven't strayed that far)
Another 14 hours stuck in crammed conditions in a top bunk where there isn't even room to sit up straight. Our little 2 hour breather in Omsk involved a visit to the local fried chicked joint and the supermarket. This train is worse than the last as there is neither ventilation nor air-condition, only the stifling stuffy air of the upper regions of the carriage.
I decide to walk around the carriage, hoping to find some empty place at a lower bunk so I can actually sit up straight for a while. Soon I find one at the head of the carriage. I sit down and continue to read my book. In between tales of deforestation and environmental disaster, a man comes in reeking of alcohol and smoke and sits across me from the table. My eyes remain fixed on the page. Soon he buys a Baltika 5 and opens the can a few inches from my book. The smell of beer wafts into my nose as he takes a slurp.
"You don't speak Russian?" He breaks the silence, pointing at my book. I shake my head at the youngish looking man with short-cropped blond hair and blue eyes.
"I learnt English in school," he says with much difficulty, his eyes scanning as though he were looking for the words in some crevice inside his mind. "I going home, 20 mins to home, home, home, home...." he sings, breaking out into laughter.
"My name is Anton he says," offering his hand. I offer my hand and name in return. Anton offers me his beer. I stare at the cold can momentarily and politely refuse.
"I like Batika. 3, 5 and 7," he says. I tell him my favorites.
"How about vodka?" I ask.
"Of course, I am Russian." I laugh with him.
"Where is your motherland?" He asks in the most matter-of-fact manner. "Singapore," I say and he nods with a little puzzled expression on his face. I stare out of the window wondering where this conversation was going and try to return to my book.
I hear his eyes scanning again for the words. "What language you speak?"
"I speak English, China and Ispania," I reply, vaguely recalling wrongly the Russian word for Spanish.
"I Russian and English choot choot. My English teacher, good," he grins and gives a thumbs up, "very good woman." I nod and smile in return.
"Do you smoke?" He asks me.
For a while a little internal conflict rages on in my conscience as I weigh my resolution to stop my infrequent affairs wih cigarettes and sharing one with a Russian.
"Sometimes," I say weakly.
"If I smoke, will you smoke with me?"
I agree.
We head over to the smoking section between carriages and he offers me a cigarette before dropiing his one on the floor. He laughs and I pick it up for him, fearing he might fall over in his state if he tried to do it himself. We light up and take a drag, sharing the silence for a moment.
The train stops.
A train attendant barges in through the door, shooting off in Russian at him. He obviously forgot his stop. He stubs his cigarettes our and looks me in the eye, offering his hand, "good luck, Andrew." I shake his hand and smile.
And then I am left alone in the smoke-filled room with a cigarette not even half-finished between my fingers. I take a final drag and stub it out, a little disappointed at the brevity.
-Andrew
(Disclaimer for mum: don't worry, I haven't strayed that far)
Save water, bathe with others
I stood there naked and self-consicous about it. There were long leather seats with naked men sprawled all over, their well-endowed bodies illuminated by the 19th century lighting. We were at a Russian Banya, one of the oldest and most luxurious Banyas still functioning in St. Petersburg. And so I grabbed my towel, wrapped it around my waist and headed to the door where lobster red fat men were emerging from, a little aprehensive. I entered a huge bathroom with numerous showers, marble slabs where naked men where scrubbing other naked men down. 3 skinny Asian boys standing there - boy we sure stuck out like yellow sore thumbs. Plucking up a little courage I decided to go nude too, since we were the only idiots covered up, Luke and Kinyan were a little more conservative about this aspect in the begining and decided to keep their towels on.
The huge bathroom connected to a smaller darker room where a furnace stood to one side while stairs leading up to an elevated wooden platform stood next to it. This was where the men went to become lobsters. The heat at first was bearable and we started monkeying the naked regulars, whipping ourselves with birch branches. Then they threw water into the furnace at the heat just hit the air out of me. I quickly stood up a little giddy, not quite sure if I could make it to the door. Once I was out, I immediately plunged myself into a cold pool of water, letting the heat drain out. This process took place a couple of times before I figured my heart could take not more.
After the whole Banya affair, I felt very clean for some strange reason, though I think the amount of bacteria lurking about in that unhygienic environment was enough to kill a horse.
- Andrew
PS: I haven't been posting because I'm too lazy. And internet, just like everything else in Russia is bloody expensive.
The huge bathroom connected to a smaller darker room where a furnace stood to one side while stairs leading up to an elevated wooden platform stood next to it. This was where the men went to become lobsters. The heat at first was bearable and we started monkeying the naked regulars, whipping ourselves with birch branches. Then they threw water into the furnace at the heat just hit the air out of me. I quickly stood up a little giddy, not quite sure if I could make it to the door. Once I was out, I immediately plunged myself into a cold pool of water, letting the heat drain out. This process took place a couple of times before I figured my heart could take not more.
After the whole Banya affair, I felt very clean for some strange reason, though I think the amount of bacteria lurking about in that unhygienic environment was enough to kill a horse.
- Andrew
PS: I haven't been posting because I'm too lazy. And internet, just like everything else in Russia is bloody expensive.
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