Thursday, October 07, 2004
ULAAN BAATOR TO IRKUTSK
See photos related to this posting at the Yahoo Photo Album. (NB: Will open in a new browser window)
The first 24 hours of this leg of our trip were a trial, passing through both the Mongolian border and the Russian border. We covered few kms, had many waits, during each of which the train toilets were locked -- this meant we developed very good timing over the day! We awoke around 6:00 am to find that we were parked on a siding, and the rumour was that we had to wait for the Mongolian officials to begin their working day several hours later. Around noon we moved to the Russian side, and went through several more hours of waiting before we finally got underway after dinner. But now we were truly on the Trans Siberian railway, which of course, crosses Siberia from Vladivostock to Moscow. Up until this time, we had officially been travelling on the Mongolian rail link to the Trans Siberian.
The vast eastern lands of Russia, from the Urals to the Pacific, known as Siberia, conjure up for most of us unspeakable hardship and suffering caused by the Russian exile system. Criminals and political prisoners alike were banished there from the civilized “European” Russian cities of Moscow and St. Petersburg. Until the building of the railway, these exiles traveled for months on foot, or if lucky, in troika drawn carriages in summer and sledges in winter. Depending on the season, they endured swarms of insects, wild animal attacks, crashes, ruts and thin ice. Needless to say, many died along the way -- perhaps a blessing, since they didn’t have to endure the hard labour of mining coal, gold and silver. But it was only when the Chinese threatened to cut off the eastern Russian port of Vladivostok in the late nineteenth century, that Tsar Alexander III approved plans to build rail links through Siberia. Between 1891 and 1901, several separate sections of the rail line were constructed simultaneously, and by a combination of rail and boat, it was possible to cross this vast expanse, from west to east, in a relatively comfortable manner. Work continued until 1916, when the Trans Siberian was completed. Along with intrepid rail travellers from Europe, who went in luxurious style, some 250,000 emigrants per year flooded into Siberia from western Russia on this new rail line. Just as in Canada, the new railway opened up a vast land.
Now, it’s a very modern system, all electrified, a far cry from the grit and smoke we’d experienced on the first day of our trip out of BJ. The carriages are air-conditioned, the dining car is tastefully decorated and the food varied. As we’d experienced so far, each car has two attendants who look after all the needs of that carriage’s passengers. In China, they are known as fuwuyuans [foo woo yuar]; in Russia as provodnitzas. These women dusted, vacuumed, straightened the hallway rugs, kept the samovar full, cleaned the bathrooms, and locked our compartment doors when we got off at stations along the way. Then they watched to make sure we all were safely aboard before the train pulled out. If asked, they would bring meals from the dining car, make tea or coffee, or provide extra towels or pillows. Because there was no dining car on this train, we spent a lot of time getting to know our fellow travellers, seeing what every one else was eating, and swapping foods with each other, just to have some variety. Two Dove chocolate bars got us some Chinese noodles which we reconstituted from the samovar at one end of our carriage, a life saving feature of all Chinese/Mongolian/Russian trains. There’s something very comforting about free hot water.
As evening approached, the day’s overcast skies turned into rain, steady and quite heavy. Our last stop before bedtime was at Ulan Ude, a large industrial city on the east side of Lake Baikal. One of our young travellers, who had the detailed guide for the Trans Siberian (Trans-Siberian Handbook by Bryn Thomas) which comments on every interesting kilometer for the entire trip – had read that there was a massive head of Lenin in the town square. He was keen to see it, and soon had a crowd of others who wanted to go with him. As the train lurched to a stop, they jumped to the platform, off at a run to the square in the 20-minute stop allotted for Ulan Ude. [There are no warning whistles when the train is ready to leave -- it just eases out of the station silently, like a snake on the prowl.] We watched the group disappear into the dark, rain soaked city. Our provodnitza began to get anxious 15 minutes later, when no one had returned. We also began watching, and soon the group arrived, panting, soaked to the skin, but victorious, with pictures on their digital cameras to show us. But Nigel was missing. Where was he? His friends started yelling from the train stairs, and “Nigel!” echoed off the stuccoed buildings of the station. Just as the train began to move, Nigel appeared, quite unperturbed at the commotion he was causing.
Our fellow travellers have been an interesting lot. Almost all of us have been teaching English in China, Korea or Japan. Apart from us, the other “older” travellers include Barbara from Wisconsin, finishing a 6 month teaching post in Shandong province; Darryl and Tanya, from Tasmania and Melbourne, who are presently teaching in HK. The youngsters included 4 Australians headed for Eastern Europe, Nigel among them; Sean, a photographer, who plans to walk across Europe once he arrives in Moscow; Nathan from Florida, teaching at an international school in China, who carried a one-man tent and camping gear, ready for any adventure; Thomas from Ireland, heading home after a year’s teaching in central China; Matthew, from Sussex, returning to his university studies in physics. Most surprising was Ernie, from Scarborough, Toronto, who was returning from adventures in China, where he had gone to improve his Mandarin. Without a dining car on this train, we had begun to explore the carriages around us, quickly finding many of the travellers we’d met when we boarded in BJ. We were all enjoying speaking English at a normal pace, drawing on our normal vocabularies for emphasis, making easy reference to English ways and customs.
IRKUTSK AND LAKE BAIKAL
Along with a few others, we left the train at Irkutsk, (pop. 650 thousand) slopping through huge puddles under a leaden sky, with mist rising all around us as the city awakened. For our 2-day stop over, we had our own guide, a delightful and very fit young woman, Tatiana, and a car and driver for our trip to and from Lake Baikal.
Once the suitcases were loaded into the back of the van, we headed for our homestay at Bolshoi Glasnoe, a small village on the western shore of Lake Baikal. The skies began to clear as we drove, mist rising out of the valleys of mountains all around us; roads full of pot holes and water from the rain of the night before. Tatiana told us that the storm had been quite intense at Irkutsk, and many broken branches and uprooted trees attested to its strength. We bounced along as the driver negotiated the road hazards, speeding up whenever he had the chance. Birches and pines, wild flowers at the roadside, reminded us strongly of home. Most of all, we enjoyed the coolness, a sensation almost foreign to us after so many months of heat and humidity in China.
We arrived in the small village of Bolshoe Goloustnoe an hour before lunch, and had time to meet our host Olga, and settle in to our homestay -- a square log house, separate from the main house, with a heavy wooden door edged with fur -- winters are cold on the shores of Lake Baikal. The family’s compound consisted of several outbuildings, including a workshop for Olga’s husband, a banya (sauna) which the family uses daily, and small barns for the hens and rooster, 4 sheep and 2 cows. Two dogs slept at the end of the yard, and a ginger cat lounged on the house porch. The WC lurked in the farthest corner of the barnyard, a primitive drop toilet with no lighting and no directions for its use. (Only later, when we used a similar toilet which had feet drawn on the floor, did we realize we’d been standing in the wrong direction!) Nighttime visits to the WC were a trial -- we tried to hold off until it was light outside. The rooster insisted on staring at us through the open door. He muttered something in Russian which we could not catch.
Olga had several vegetable gardens and a greenhouse, so that she could start seeds before the regular planting time. Cabbages, eggplants, carrots, onions, lettuces, cucumbers, potatoes, tomatoes and lots of dill and parsley meant that we not only had fresh milk, cream, and eggs, but also fresh vegetables straight from the garden. Our meals were delicious - blinys with sour cream and homemade preserves, dumplings, salads, and freshly caught fish. Each morning, Olga’s husband and son went fishing, loading their boat onto a trailer and heading for the nets they’d put in the water the day before. Fish in batter for breakfast was a real treat, as well as a special fish pie for dinner one night. And at every meal there was a small bowl of sweets: chocolates, Turkish delight, chocolate covered raisins. Such temptation!
We learned quickly that Olga also spoke French, which meant that we often had three way conversations: Russian, French and English. She’s a retired schoolteacher, and has two children, a son and daughter, who attended the village school for primary education, going then to the high school in Irkutsk. Her husband works in the village at the navigational building close to the lake. With their assortment of livestock and crops, they are very self-sufficient, as is everyone in this village of 400 families. It was a classic “Fiddler On The Roof” Russian village. All the houses are made of wood, and many have “wooden lace” decoration at eaves and around windows and doors. Some of the door frames and shutters are painted in bright colours, but for the most part, the wooden buildings have aged naturally to a dark brown.
On our first day, we walked around the village, along straight-asphalted roads, past gates and high fences which marked each home compound. The primary school teacher lives beside the primary school; a couple of variety stores supply extras between shopping trips to Irkutsk. The village is situated on the flat plain between the shore of the lake and the mountains which rise gently behind the houses. We looked up to see a herd of sheep, small in the distance, grazing their way through the day. A herd of cows grazed on the flat, and when evening came, each cow returned to its owner’s compound, waiting patiently outside to be let in for milking.
At one end of the village stood a small wooden Greek Orthodox church with a bright blue dome and white walls. Very picturesque beside the crystal blue waters of the lake. On our visit to the church, we learned that only a few families worshipped here, and that a full time priest and assistant lived in the house beside it. Because Russians were not allowed to worship openly for some 70 years, when aetheism was the official policy, there is little interest in religion now that the state sanctions it.
On our second day at the lake, we went on a 16 km hike along the lake shore -- 8 kms to a small fishing camp, where we had lunch, and then 8 kms back to our homestay. We started out briskly enough around 10:00 am, savouring the steady breeze off the water and the cool temperature, gazing upwards at a cloudless blue sky. Along the way, we passed a children’s summer camp where the kids played baseball, and later came in single file down to the shore for a quick dip. Further along was a row of brightly coloured cabins, rented out to families here for a summer holiday. Later we passed small tents set up in clearings, where the more rugged campers could feel more attuned with nature. Gradually the relentless pebble beach began to wear us down. It was as difficult to walk on as sand. We began to flag, and had several stops while Tatiana told us about Lake Baikal: in length the distance between Moscow and St. Petersburg, 700 kms; in width, between 30 and 60 kms; in depth 1637 kms - which doesn’t count the depth of the silt lying on the bottom. It’s the world’s deepest lake, situated on a tectonic fault which is slowly widening, making the lake deeper still. The lake contains 20% of the world’s freshwater supply. It’s also incredibly cold, as we discovered as we took off our shoes and socks to dabble our toes in the water. It was impossible to keep our feet in the water for more than a few seconds. But the water felt so good on our sore and tired feet. Tatiana of course had to tell us that that if Baikal were emptied on Australia it would cover that country to the depth of three metres. We decided to test this with our new Australian friends. With all the statistics jangling in our brains, we returned to our homestay later that afternoon. We couldn’t believe we’d walked 16 kms! Not bad for a couple of old guys. We immediately went to Olga’s banya, which had been prepared for us. The water was steaming hot, the room warm and cozy.
We relaxed on the wooden bench, frequently splashing each other with cool water. What a wonderful way to relax all those old, aching muscles. We resolved to put a banya on our list of “things to add” to our property in Canada.
The next morning we were on our way back to Irkutsk, once again hurtling along pot holed country roads. Back in the city, Tatiana took us first to a small grocery store, where we stocked up on bread, cheese and milk, supplies for the train. Then we had a fast tour of the main sights in the city. We learned that the Decembrists had been exiled here after their attempted coup in St. Petersburg in 1825, bringing their wives and children with them. Once they’d finished their prison terms, they moved in to Irkutsk and became the intellectual and social centre of the community. Also, during the nineteenth century, gold was discovered in the area, creating a gold rush similar to California’s, making wealthy men and paupers by turn. Now Irutsk is the economic and administrative capital of Siberia, its main street filled with historic classical buildings, colourful facades and impressive churches. Several of the traditional wooden houses of earlier times have been made into museums which chronicle the lifestyle of bygone days. The decorated eaves and shutters echoed those we’d already seen on the shores of Lake Baikal. After viewing a new monument to Czar Nicholas, builder of the Trans Siberian Railway, at the foot of Ulitsa Karla Marxa, we were whisked across the Angara River to the train station for the next leg of our journey westward.
See photos related to this posting at the Yahoo Photo Album. (NB: Will open in a new browser window)
The first 24 hours of this leg of our trip were a trial, passing through both the Mongolian border and the Russian border. We covered few kms, had many waits, during each of which the train toilets were locked -- this meant we developed very good timing over the day! We awoke around 6:00 am to find that we were parked on a siding, and the rumour was that we had to wait for the Mongolian officials to begin their working day several hours later. Around noon we moved to the Russian side, and went through several more hours of waiting before we finally got underway after dinner. But now we were truly on the Trans Siberian railway, which of course, crosses Siberia from Vladivostock to Moscow. Up until this time, we had officially been travelling on the Mongolian rail link to the Trans Siberian.
The vast eastern lands of Russia, from the Urals to the Pacific, known as Siberia, conjure up for most of us unspeakable hardship and suffering caused by the Russian exile system. Criminals and political prisoners alike were banished there from the civilized “European” Russian cities of Moscow and St. Petersburg. Until the building of the railway, these exiles traveled for months on foot, or if lucky, in troika drawn carriages in summer and sledges in winter. Depending on the season, they endured swarms of insects, wild animal attacks, crashes, ruts and thin ice. Needless to say, many died along the way -- perhaps a blessing, since they didn’t have to endure the hard labour of mining coal, gold and silver. But it was only when the Chinese threatened to cut off the eastern Russian port of Vladivostok in the late nineteenth century, that Tsar Alexander III approved plans to build rail links through Siberia. Between 1891 and 1901, several separate sections of the rail line were constructed simultaneously, and by a combination of rail and boat, it was possible to cross this vast expanse, from west to east, in a relatively comfortable manner. Work continued until 1916, when the Trans Siberian was completed. Along with intrepid rail travellers from Europe, who went in luxurious style, some 250,000 emigrants per year flooded into Siberia from western Russia on this new rail line. Just as in Canada, the new railway opened up a vast land.
Now, it’s a very modern system, all electrified, a far cry from the grit and smoke we’d experienced on the first day of our trip out of BJ. The carriages are air-conditioned, the dining car is tastefully decorated and the food varied. As we’d experienced so far, each car has two attendants who look after all the needs of that carriage’s passengers. In China, they are known as fuwuyuans [foo woo yuar]; in Russia as provodnitzas. These women dusted, vacuumed, straightened the hallway rugs, kept the samovar full, cleaned the bathrooms, and locked our compartment doors when we got off at stations along the way. Then they watched to make sure we all were safely aboard before the train pulled out. If asked, they would bring meals from the dining car, make tea or coffee, or provide extra towels or pillows. Because there was no dining car on this train, we spent a lot of time getting to know our fellow travellers, seeing what every one else was eating, and swapping foods with each other, just to have some variety. Two Dove chocolate bars got us some Chinese noodles which we reconstituted from the samovar at one end of our carriage, a life saving feature of all Chinese/Mongolian/Russian trains. There’s something very comforting about free hot water.
As evening approached, the day’s overcast skies turned into rain, steady and quite heavy. Our last stop before bedtime was at Ulan Ude, a large industrial city on the east side of Lake Baikal. One of our young travellers, who had the detailed guide for the Trans Siberian (Trans-Siberian Handbook by Bryn Thomas) which comments on every interesting kilometer for the entire trip – had read that there was a massive head of Lenin in the town square. He was keen to see it, and soon had a crowd of others who wanted to go with him. As the train lurched to a stop, they jumped to the platform, off at a run to the square in the 20-minute stop allotted for Ulan Ude. [There are no warning whistles when the train is ready to leave -- it just eases out of the station silently, like a snake on the prowl.] We watched the group disappear into the dark, rain soaked city. Our provodnitza began to get anxious 15 minutes later, when no one had returned. We also began watching, and soon the group arrived, panting, soaked to the skin, but victorious, with pictures on their digital cameras to show us. But Nigel was missing. Where was he? His friends started yelling from the train stairs, and “Nigel!” echoed off the stuccoed buildings of the station. Just as the train began to move, Nigel appeared, quite unperturbed at the commotion he was causing.
Our fellow travellers have been an interesting lot. Almost all of us have been teaching English in China, Korea or Japan. Apart from us, the other “older” travellers include Barbara from Wisconsin, finishing a 6 month teaching post in Shandong province; Darryl and Tanya, from Tasmania and Melbourne, who are presently teaching in HK. The youngsters included 4 Australians headed for Eastern Europe, Nigel among them; Sean, a photographer, who plans to walk across Europe once he arrives in Moscow; Nathan from Florida, teaching at an international school in China, who carried a one-man tent and camping gear, ready for any adventure; Thomas from Ireland, heading home after a year’s teaching in central China; Matthew, from Sussex, returning to his university studies in physics. Most surprising was Ernie, from Scarborough, Toronto, who was returning from adventures in China, where he had gone to improve his Mandarin. Without a dining car on this train, we had begun to explore the carriages around us, quickly finding many of the travellers we’d met when we boarded in BJ. We were all enjoying speaking English at a normal pace, drawing on our normal vocabularies for emphasis, making easy reference to English ways and customs.
IRKUTSK AND LAKE BAIKAL
Along with a few others, we left the train at Irkutsk, (pop. 650 thousand) slopping through huge puddles under a leaden sky, with mist rising all around us as the city awakened. For our 2-day stop over, we had our own guide, a delightful and very fit young woman, Tatiana, and a car and driver for our trip to and from Lake Baikal.
Once the suitcases were loaded into the back of the van, we headed for our homestay at Bolshoi Glasnoe, a small village on the western shore of Lake Baikal. The skies began to clear as we drove, mist rising out of the valleys of mountains all around us; roads full of pot holes and water from the rain of the night before. Tatiana told us that the storm had been quite intense at Irkutsk, and many broken branches and uprooted trees attested to its strength. We bounced along as the driver negotiated the road hazards, speeding up whenever he had the chance. Birches and pines, wild flowers at the roadside, reminded us strongly of home. Most of all, we enjoyed the coolness, a sensation almost foreign to us after so many months of heat and humidity in China.
We arrived in the small village of Bolshoe Goloustnoe an hour before lunch, and had time to meet our host Olga, and settle in to our homestay -- a square log house, separate from the main house, with a heavy wooden door edged with fur -- winters are cold on the shores of Lake Baikal. The family’s compound consisted of several outbuildings, including a workshop for Olga’s husband, a banya (sauna) which the family uses daily, and small barns for the hens and rooster, 4 sheep and 2 cows. Two dogs slept at the end of the yard, and a ginger cat lounged on the house porch. The WC lurked in the farthest corner of the barnyard, a primitive drop toilet with no lighting and no directions for its use. (Only later, when we used a similar toilet which had feet drawn on the floor, did we realize we’d been standing in the wrong direction!) Nighttime visits to the WC were a trial -- we tried to hold off until it was light outside. The rooster insisted on staring at us through the open door. He muttered something in Russian which we could not catch.
Olga had several vegetable gardens and a greenhouse, so that she could start seeds before the regular planting time. Cabbages, eggplants, carrots, onions, lettuces, cucumbers, potatoes, tomatoes and lots of dill and parsley meant that we not only had fresh milk, cream, and eggs, but also fresh vegetables straight from the garden. Our meals were delicious - blinys with sour cream and homemade preserves, dumplings, salads, and freshly caught fish. Each morning, Olga’s husband and son went fishing, loading their boat onto a trailer and heading for the nets they’d put in the water the day before. Fish in batter for breakfast was a real treat, as well as a special fish pie for dinner one night. And at every meal there was a small bowl of sweets: chocolates, Turkish delight, chocolate covered raisins. Such temptation!
We learned quickly that Olga also spoke French, which meant that we often had three way conversations: Russian, French and English. She’s a retired schoolteacher, and has two children, a son and daughter, who attended the village school for primary education, going then to the high school in Irkutsk. Her husband works in the village at the navigational building close to the lake. With their assortment of livestock and crops, they are very self-sufficient, as is everyone in this village of 400 families. It was a classic “Fiddler On The Roof” Russian village. All the houses are made of wood, and many have “wooden lace” decoration at eaves and around windows and doors. Some of the door frames and shutters are painted in bright colours, but for the most part, the wooden buildings have aged naturally to a dark brown.
On our first day, we walked around the village, along straight-asphalted roads, past gates and high fences which marked each home compound. The primary school teacher lives beside the primary school; a couple of variety stores supply extras between shopping trips to Irkutsk. The village is situated on the flat plain between the shore of the lake and the mountains which rise gently behind the houses. We looked up to see a herd of sheep, small in the distance, grazing their way through the day. A herd of cows grazed on the flat, and when evening came, each cow returned to its owner’s compound, waiting patiently outside to be let in for milking.
At one end of the village stood a small wooden Greek Orthodox church with a bright blue dome and white walls. Very picturesque beside the crystal blue waters of the lake. On our visit to the church, we learned that only a few families worshipped here, and that a full time priest and assistant lived in the house beside it. Because Russians were not allowed to worship openly for some 70 years, when aetheism was the official policy, there is little interest in religion now that the state sanctions it.
On our second day at the lake, we went on a 16 km hike along the lake shore -- 8 kms to a small fishing camp, where we had lunch, and then 8 kms back to our homestay. We started out briskly enough around 10:00 am, savouring the steady breeze off the water and the cool temperature, gazing upwards at a cloudless blue sky. Along the way, we passed a children’s summer camp where the kids played baseball, and later came in single file down to the shore for a quick dip. Further along was a row of brightly coloured cabins, rented out to families here for a summer holiday. Later we passed small tents set up in clearings, where the more rugged campers could feel more attuned with nature. Gradually the relentless pebble beach began to wear us down. It was as difficult to walk on as sand. We began to flag, and had several stops while Tatiana told us about Lake Baikal: in length the distance between Moscow and St. Petersburg, 700 kms; in width, between 30 and 60 kms; in depth 1637 kms - which doesn’t count the depth of the silt lying on the bottom. It’s the world’s deepest lake, situated on a tectonic fault which is slowly widening, making the lake deeper still. The lake contains 20% of the world’s freshwater supply. It’s also incredibly cold, as we discovered as we took off our shoes and socks to dabble our toes in the water. It was impossible to keep our feet in the water for more than a few seconds. But the water felt so good on our sore and tired feet. Tatiana of course had to tell us that that if Baikal were emptied on Australia it would cover that country to the depth of three metres. We decided to test this with our new Australian friends. With all the statistics jangling in our brains, we returned to our homestay later that afternoon. We couldn’t believe we’d walked 16 kms! Not bad for a couple of old guys. We immediately went to Olga’s banya, which had been prepared for us. The water was steaming hot, the room warm and cozy.
We relaxed on the wooden bench, frequently splashing each other with cool water. What a wonderful way to relax all those old, aching muscles. We resolved to put a banya on our list of “things to add” to our property in Canada.
The next morning we were on our way back to Irkutsk, once again hurtling along pot holed country roads. Back in the city, Tatiana took us first to a small grocery store, where we stocked up on bread, cheese and milk, supplies for the train. Then we had a fast tour of the main sights in the city. We learned that the Decembrists had been exiled here after their attempted coup in St. Petersburg in 1825, bringing their wives and children with them. Once they’d finished their prison terms, they moved in to Irkutsk and became the intellectual and social centre of the community. Also, during the nineteenth century, gold was discovered in the area, creating a gold rush similar to California’s, making wealthy men and paupers by turn. Now Irutsk is the economic and administrative capital of Siberia, its main street filled with historic classical buildings, colourful facades and impressive churches. Several of the traditional wooden houses of earlier times have been made into museums which chronicle the lifestyle of bygone days. The decorated eaves and shutters echoed those we’d already seen on the shores of Lake Baikal. After viewing a new monument to Czar Nicholas, builder of the Trans Siberian Railway, at the foot of Ulitsa Karla Marxa, we were whisked across the Angara River to the train station for the next leg of our journey westward.
All text and photography © copyright Harkaway, 2003 - 2004
