Tuesday, October 19, 2004
EKATERINBURG OR YEKATERINBURG OR SVERDLOVSK (take your pick!)
See photos related to this posting at the Yahoo Photo Album. (NB: Will open in a new browser window)
From Irkutsk to Ekaterinburg is a 48-hour rail trip through endless coniferous forests interspersed with windows full of birches. Small towns and sparse settlements went by at regular intervals, with short stops for delivering items and picking up others. Most stops were only a few minutes long. We inadvertently became involved in a minor intrigue. By coyly raising our eyebrows knowingly we assured the provodnitsa that we would say nothing about the several boxes she had placed in the upper storage of our compartment -- a place usually filled with blankets and pillows. We noted that several rice cookers were delivered to one of the short stops we had. And of course, our overhead compartment was empty after that. We travelled on Train #9 (The Baikal) which was sheer luxury: air conditioned and decorated in blue throughout. Our compartment had blue curtains, blue bed covers and cheery blue flower print sheets and pillowcases. The dining room was decked out in blue curtains, covered banquettes, carpeting and frosted blue glass dividers. We enjoyed the upgrade from the train which took us to Irkutsk. And we were pleased to be reunited with many of our fellow travellers, especially Darryl and Tania, our teacher friends from Australia, presently teaching in HK. We celebrated by drinking dreadful red wine from Georgia (in Russia, that is), which Darryl had purchased because he liked the shape of the bottles -- never a good criterion to use when choosing a wine! We enjoyed the cheese and bread we’d bought in Irkutsk -- with the addition of excellent dry sausage bought on the platform, this was a good simulation of a French picnic.
In the late afternoon of the second day of our current train trip, we once again left the train to spend two days in Ekaterinburg (population one and a half million), along with Darryl and Tania. This city is named for Peter the Great’s new wife Catherine ... not for the Empress, as is often assumed. As always, we were met at the station and this time, taken to the travel agency, where we met city guides whose job it was to give us a quick tour of Ekaterinburg’s downtown area. The agency was situated in a building which also housed a mining museum, full of odd shaped and coloured specimens of the many minerals found in the Urals. We would later return to the sales desk of this museum to purchase several stunning pieces of jewellery made from the many semi precious stones of the Urals.
As we walked with Vladimir, a very tall university student improving his English by taking foreigners on downtown tours, we skipped around the puddles left by the rain just past. The sky remained gray and we wondered if the rain was indeed over. The downtown was bustling with pedestrians and streetcars, the roads filled with cars of all descriptions, most rather elderly European and American models in need of some repairs. Vladimir told us about the city’s importance as the biggest city in the Urals, a hub for transportation and the area’s largest industrial centre, known for its mining and refining of minerals and ores, its heavy engineering, and chemical production. The city has only been open to tourists since 1991, because of the presence of much of the former Soviet Union’s defence industry in this region.
The River Iset flows through the downtown, providing a picturesque setting for the many museums, theatres and university campuses along the river’s lake- like bulge created by a dam further downstream. The most spectacular site was the brand new Church of the Blood, situated across the street from the house in which the Romanovs were murdered in 1918. The Church is an immense stone structure, faced in polished marble and topped with several gilded domes. Judy was particularly annoyed when she entered this building because she was stopped and given both a skirt and a headscarf, which she had to wear on her visit. Ken wasn’t required to don any additional clothing. The church is dedicated to all the slain Romanovs, a strange reversal of thought in the nearly one hundred years since their murders! It seemed to us that the church and state were once again on the same side in Russia, catering largely to the tourist trade. Certainly not many Russians are regular churchgoers, after the long state ban on churches and church attendance during the Communist era.
Back at the tourist office, we were loaded into an ancient sedan with very squishy springs and taken to our homestay in the suburbs, a dingy looking concrete apartment building with badly lit entrance and stair well. The fact that the rain had started again did nothing to improve our first impression. However, once inside Alexandra and Alexander’s apartment, we were warmly welcomed by husband and wife, father, dog and small kitten. We quickly settled in to our bedroom, a large room with a fold out bed and a single bed which became our suitcase stand. The apartment consisted of a kitchen, living room and two bedrooms, and a bathroom and toilet room. Our most difficult task was finding the light switches for the two part toilet facilities -- the switches were in the nearby linen cupboard, and in the middle of the night, with the kitten lurking and the dog growling, it was a treacherous journey indeed!
We ate in the kitchen, where our meals were set out for us, and our host left while we ate. This was a common pattern at each homestay we had. Alexandra was a large, jolly lady who cooked delicious meals of cabbage rolls, potatoes and sour cream; salmon in sour cream with rice. For breakfast, we had hot cereal, eggs, yogurt and lots of bread. The herb of choice was dill, which was liberally sprinkled on fresh vegetables and sour cream. It was delicious.
We were collected the next morning in a large van, where we were pleased to discover our Australian friends already settled in for the adventure. Our guide Victoria spoke excellent English, and told us we were going beyond the city to a monastery, the Asia/Europe border and a special cemetery. We were game! The Monastery was part of a large complex which housed seven churches, all newly built from logs, with shining green metal roofs, bell towers and resplendent porches and stairs. In the light rain which fell all day, the grass and buildings glistened with freshness, amid the white trunks of the many birch trees. Again, Victoria, Tania and I had to wear the skirts and headscarves provided, a mark of respect for the sacredness of this place. We were not pleased to be set apart in a way which is so totally foreign to western practice. There were few visitors this day, even though it was obvious that this brand new place was intended to be a pilgrimage site, most likely with tourists in mind. The churches here were also dedicated to the Romanovs, who had been canonized by Russian Orthodox Patriarch Alexi 2 on August 20, 2000.
Ekaterinburg was in the process of turning the blood chilling murder of members of the Romanov family into a story of religious adoration. The ruling Russian family had been imprisoned in the house of a rich Ekaterinburg merchant in May 1918. In July the Bolshevik government decided that the Tsar was too great a threat, and ordered his murder. Nicholas, Alexandria, their four daughters and their hemophiliac son Alexis were taken to the basement where they were shot and bayoneted to death. Legend has it that bullets failed to kill the 4 girls, because precious stones had been sewn into their clothing. They were bayoneted instead. Then the bodies were removed to a mineshaft about 40 km away, where they were dismembered, doused with gasoline and burned. This mineshaft was part of the monastery site we visited.
By the way, the man who was responsible for leading the massacre of the Romanovs was Yacob Sverdlov. He was honoured by having the city of Ekaterinburg renamed Sverdlovsk. This name was used from 1924 to 1992, and still appeared on the rail schedule on the Trans Siberian.
Free of our skirts and kerchiefs, we piled into the van for a high speed drive through heavy rain, noting the monument to the Gulag prison system and on to the monument which marks the line between Asia and Europe, decided in 1829 by two German scientists. We all had our pictures taken, legs apart, with one foot in each continent. This is a required stance for all tourists. The marker reminded us once again of how vast is the expanse which is Russia. The rain continued to pelt down, but we had a tasty picnic in the van, complete with delicious shortbread cookies rolled in icing sugar and flavoured with peppermint.
We had read that there was a thriving mafia presence in Ekaterinburg, partly the result of the city’s geographical location as a major transit point on the drug route between Asia and Europe. Our visit to the impressive gravesites of several mafia bosses and their families certainly confirmed this. In the gloom of a rainy afternoon, with the rain dripping from the surrounding trees, we admired the row of black, polished marble monuments, each with its bust of the deceased in the centre, marble stools and table, balustrades and flower urns, all placed on a raised marble deck.
Once back in the city centre, the four of us set off to shop. To the west of the Iset River on Prospekt Glavny, we found an open-air market set up in the boulevard which separates the traffic. Here we admired many earrings, bracelets and pendants, as well as small boxes fashioned from malachite and serpentine. At a small art gallery a few blocks away, we found more exquisite pieces at the gift shop, as well as small painted wooden boxes of jewel-like quality. We appreciated the unique nature of the pieces offered for sale ... such fine craftsmanship.
The following morning we said goodbye to our gracious hosts who watched from the upstairs window as we loaded our luggage in the van, en route once again for our next segment on the Trans Siberian, our final 24 hour trip to Moscow.
See photos related to this posting at the Yahoo Photo Album. (NB: Will open in a new browser window)
From Irkutsk to Ekaterinburg is a 48-hour rail trip through endless coniferous forests interspersed with windows full of birches. Small towns and sparse settlements went by at regular intervals, with short stops for delivering items and picking up others. Most stops were only a few minutes long. We inadvertently became involved in a minor intrigue. By coyly raising our eyebrows knowingly we assured the provodnitsa that we would say nothing about the several boxes she had placed in the upper storage of our compartment -- a place usually filled with blankets and pillows. We noted that several rice cookers were delivered to one of the short stops we had. And of course, our overhead compartment was empty after that. We travelled on Train #9 (The Baikal) which was sheer luxury: air conditioned and decorated in blue throughout. Our compartment had blue curtains, blue bed covers and cheery blue flower print sheets and pillowcases. The dining room was decked out in blue curtains, covered banquettes, carpeting and frosted blue glass dividers. We enjoyed the upgrade from the train which took us to Irkutsk. And we were pleased to be reunited with many of our fellow travellers, especially Darryl and Tania, our teacher friends from Australia, presently teaching in HK. We celebrated by drinking dreadful red wine from Georgia (in Russia, that is), which Darryl had purchased because he liked the shape of the bottles -- never a good criterion to use when choosing a wine! We enjoyed the cheese and bread we’d bought in Irkutsk -- with the addition of excellent dry sausage bought on the platform, this was a good simulation of a French picnic.
In the late afternoon of the second day of our current train trip, we once again left the train to spend two days in Ekaterinburg (population one and a half million), along with Darryl and Tania. This city is named for Peter the Great’s new wife Catherine ... not for the Empress, as is often assumed. As always, we were met at the station and this time, taken to the travel agency, where we met city guides whose job it was to give us a quick tour of Ekaterinburg’s downtown area. The agency was situated in a building which also housed a mining museum, full of odd shaped and coloured specimens of the many minerals found in the Urals. We would later return to the sales desk of this museum to purchase several stunning pieces of jewellery made from the many semi precious stones of the Urals.
As we walked with Vladimir, a very tall university student improving his English by taking foreigners on downtown tours, we skipped around the puddles left by the rain just past. The sky remained gray and we wondered if the rain was indeed over. The downtown was bustling with pedestrians and streetcars, the roads filled with cars of all descriptions, most rather elderly European and American models in need of some repairs. Vladimir told us about the city’s importance as the biggest city in the Urals, a hub for transportation and the area’s largest industrial centre, known for its mining and refining of minerals and ores, its heavy engineering, and chemical production. The city has only been open to tourists since 1991, because of the presence of much of the former Soviet Union’s defence industry in this region.
The River Iset flows through the downtown, providing a picturesque setting for the many museums, theatres and university campuses along the river’s lake- like bulge created by a dam further downstream. The most spectacular site was the brand new Church of the Blood, situated across the street from the house in which the Romanovs were murdered in 1918. The Church is an immense stone structure, faced in polished marble and topped with several gilded domes. Judy was particularly annoyed when she entered this building because she was stopped and given both a skirt and a headscarf, which she had to wear on her visit. Ken wasn’t required to don any additional clothing. The church is dedicated to all the slain Romanovs, a strange reversal of thought in the nearly one hundred years since their murders! It seemed to us that the church and state were once again on the same side in Russia, catering largely to the tourist trade. Certainly not many Russians are regular churchgoers, after the long state ban on churches and church attendance during the Communist era.
Back at the tourist office, we were loaded into an ancient sedan with very squishy springs and taken to our homestay in the suburbs, a dingy looking concrete apartment building with badly lit entrance and stair well. The fact that the rain had started again did nothing to improve our first impression. However, once inside Alexandra and Alexander’s apartment, we were warmly welcomed by husband and wife, father, dog and small kitten. We quickly settled in to our bedroom, a large room with a fold out bed and a single bed which became our suitcase stand. The apartment consisted of a kitchen, living room and two bedrooms, and a bathroom and toilet room. Our most difficult task was finding the light switches for the two part toilet facilities -- the switches were in the nearby linen cupboard, and in the middle of the night, with the kitten lurking and the dog growling, it was a treacherous journey indeed!
We ate in the kitchen, where our meals were set out for us, and our host left while we ate. This was a common pattern at each homestay we had. Alexandra was a large, jolly lady who cooked delicious meals of cabbage rolls, potatoes and sour cream; salmon in sour cream with rice. For breakfast, we had hot cereal, eggs, yogurt and lots of bread. The herb of choice was dill, which was liberally sprinkled on fresh vegetables and sour cream. It was delicious.
We were collected the next morning in a large van, where we were pleased to discover our Australian friends already settled in for the adventure. Our guide Victoria spoke excellent English, and told us we were going beyond the city to a monastery, the Asia/Europe border and a special cemetery. We were game! The Monastery was part of a large complex which housed seven churches, all newly built from logs, with shining green metal roofs, bell towers and resplendent porches and stairs. In the light rain which fell all day, the grass and buildings glistened with freshness, amid the white trunks of the many birch trees. Again, Victoria, Tania and I had to wear the skirts and headscarves provided, a mark of respect for the sacredness of this place. We were not pleased to be set apart in a way which is so totally foreign to western practice. There were few visitors this day, even though it was obvious that this brand new place was intended to be a pilgrimage site, most likely with tourists in mind. The churches here were also dedicated to the Romanovs, who had been canonized by Russian Orthodox Patriarch Alexi 2 on August 20, 2000.
Ekaterinburg was in the process of turning the blood chilling murder of members of the Romanov family into a story of religious adoration. The ruling Russian family had been imprisoned in the house of a rich Ekaterinburg merchant in May 1918. In July the Bolshevik government decided that the Tsar was too great a threat, and ordered his murder. Nicholas, Alexandria, their four daughters and their hemophiliac son Alexis were taken to the basement where they were shot and bayoneted to death. Legend has it that bullets failed to kill the 4 girls, because precious stones had been sewn into their clothing. They were bayoneted instead. Then the bodies were removed to a mineshaft about 40 km away, where they were dismembered, doused with gasoline and burned. This mineshaft was part of the monastery site we visited.
By the way, the man who was responsible for leading the massacre of the Romanovs was Yacob Sverdlov. He was honoured by having the city of Ekaterinburg renamed Sverdlovsk. This name was used from 1924 to 1992, and still appeared on the rail schedule on the Trans Siberian.
Free of our skirts and kerchiefs, we piled into the van for a high speed drive through heavy rain, noting the monument to the Gulag prison system and on to the monument which marks the line between Asia and Europe, decided in 1829 by two German scientists. We all had our pictures taken, legs apart, with one foot in each continent. This is a required stance for all tourists. The marker reminded us once again of how vast is the expanse which is Russia. The rain continued to pelt down, but we had a tasty picnic in the van, complete with delicious shortbread cookies rolled in icing sugar and flavoured with peppermint.
We had read that there was a thriving mafia presence in Ekaterinburg, partly the result of the city’s geographical location as a major transit point on the drug route between Asia and Europe. Our visit to the impressive gravesites of several mafia bosses and their families certainly confirmed this. In the gloom of a rainy afternoon, with the rain dripping from the surrounding trees, we admired the row of black, polished marble monuments, each with its bust of the deceased in the centre, marble stools and table, balustrades and flower urns, all placed on a raised marble deck.
Once back in the city centre, the four of us set off to shop. To the west of the Iset River on Prospekt Glavny, we found an open-air market set up in the boulevard which separates the traffic. Here we admired many earrings, bracelets and pendants, as well as small boxes fashioned from malachite and serpentine. At a small art gallery a few blocks away, we found more exquisite pieces at the gift shop, as well as small painted wooden boxes of jewel-like quality. We appreciated the unique nature of the pieces offered for sale ... such fine craftsmanship.
The following morning we said goodbye to our gracious hosts who watched from the upstairs window as we loaded our luggage in the van, en route once again for our next segment on the Trans Siberian, our final 24 hour trip to Moscow.
All text and photography © copyright Harkaway, 2003 - 2004
