Boss!

October 24, 1999 • Blog

World » Belgium » Brussels » Boulevard de Diksmuide

In October 1999, four people went out to buy some clothes and all they came back with was a broken down Fiat.

The clothes were picked up at the Hugo Boss outlet near Stuttgart. In the process, we also visited Luxembourg and Heidelberg.

The broken down Fiat was a replacement car for Joost’s vehicle with which, according to the mechanic which looked at it, was completely unfit to go back on the road with. The Fiat Palio, although practically new, was a ramshackle device, nearly falling apart under my hands. My hands, indeed, because it turned out I was the only one who had brought my driver’s license…

Note (May 2008): The original travelogue of this trip came online in December 1999 and was the first travelogue I put online myself, earlier even than my travelogue of my trip to Russia, which I did in the summer of 1999. In a way, you could say, this was the travelogue which started it all.

Unfortunately, with the many hard disk crashes over the years, the photos from this particular trip are amongst the very few which completely disappeared from my archives, so I threw together the low res, high compression photos from the website into a small collage.

The end of a journey

August 06, 1999 • Blog

World » Netherlands » Amsterdam » Schiphol airport

Originally, my plan was to visit the ‘Russian market’ (a local nickname for a huge black market, where you can buy anything from CDs to Antitank guns (yes, really). But in the morning, the aftermath of the vast amount of alcohol I had consumed the evening before easily helping me, I decided I would go straight to the airport. There I had to wait for a couple of hours before my flight finally came up.

When going through customs, they spotted my Bachuga (how couldn’t they, the thing is some 40cm long). I had to wait until someone had been called down, to pack the thing real tightly before taking it away. It was to be handed over to the airplane crew and I would get it back after landing. Soon after, I boarded and the flight was an easy, and short, one. Pretty soon, we were already over Dutch territory.

As the plane was flying lower and lower I started to distinguish between individual houses on the ground. Small cars going to and fro, little houses littering the landscape and I imagined tiny people moving busily around. My mind went back to the past six weeks I had been on my own, traveling for some 33000km in a country I had never visited before. I thought of the cities I most probably would never return to, the people I would never see again. I thought of the beautiful landscapes, the poverty and the diversity as I felt the plane going in for landing. I remembered everyone who had invited me for a bite to eat, some vodka to drink or some ideas to share and recalled the numerous people I had encountered on my way. I went over all the foreigners that I met who were also traveling through Russia or over the world and wondered where they where now. I wondered what would happen with a country that big, a government system so corrupt and people, as a whole, so confused as to what the future would bring for each and everyone of them. I wondered.
I wondered on what time would tell, what the Russian future would bring. If the country would survive as a whole or whether small semi-states would evolve with fairly independent economies. Whether the East, under the influence of Japan and China, would fair better than the West. Whether the tension buildup in the South would lead to another war. Whether all the riches available all over Russia would ever come to the benefit of the people themselves, in stead of the few opportunities seekers and the hordes of foreigners. I wondered… and looked up. We had already landed and the plane was already empty.

Then, leaving these past weeks behind, I stood up, said good-bye to the steward and stewardesses and left the plane. I was home again.

Epilogue

I didn’t have a hard time adjusting to normal life again, although my then-girlfriend Julia helped me a lot with doing so. It was just as easy deciding I needed to go back. Which I rapidly did, visiting St. Petersburg again and touring the Baltic states. Which I did in January 2000.

My trip to Russia made me understand so much more about the Russian spirit that I now have an easy time in understanding the West its problems with Russia. It really is a pity to see so much misunderstanding in the world.

Would I like to go back? Of course, I already went and I would love to go back even again. See more and learn more. Because Russia not only is a mysterious country, its also a country of unsurpassed beauty.

In Warsaw

August 05, 1999 • Blog

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World » Poland » Warsaw » Old town

The train arrived in Warsaw at the ungodly hour of 6:40am. Earliest at 8am could I get in the LOT office for changing my plane ticket to leave the same or next day, so nothing to do but wait. Luckily, the weather was much better the it was when I was in Warsaw the previous time, so it wasn't too bad.

I wanted to try to meet up with a friend of mine, someone who I knew from working for Procter & Gamble so my first choice was flying out the next day. I could and went in search for a hostel. I found one (the only one that still had room left) quite far away from the city center, that also had a curfew at 11am. Pretty bad, but at least a place to sleep. In addition, it wasn't possible to enter your room between 10am and 5pm. So, when I arrived at 10:15, I was told I couldn't even get a shower anymore (and I hadn't showered for some three days!). Some persuasion actually got me a shower, although halfway only cold water started coming down. Another boy who came after me to take a shower had to shower with cold water only.

I also succeeded in meeting up with Robert, my P&G buddy. We had a great evening, although I had to leave early. We drank a lot in an Irish pub, where a young woman gave me her address so that I could call her next time I was in Warsaw, for a tour of the city…

During the day, I toured most of the city and I was surprised at the many young international people that were visiting the city. I got the idea that for these young people, Warsaw was now an acceptable destination within the Interrail package that, so obviously, most of them were using. Strangely, though, many of the foreigners were Italian. Maybe because Italy – Poland is about the farthest trip they can make with Interrail.

Buying a gun?

August 04, 1999 • Blog

World » Belorus » Minsk » Downtown

Most of the time I spent in Minsk I needed to get away again. Just before I arrived, Alexander, one of the two people whom with I shared my train compartment, had offered to go for a beer in the evening. I said that I could if I would and that I would call. I already assumed I would not and indeed, in the end, there turned out to be no time to do anything but get out of Minsk.

We arrived in the morning, so you would figure there being plenty of time to get out. Wrong. First, I went to the same place that sold me the train tickets the first time I came to Minsk. There, they told me they couldn’t sell me any same-day tickets. They forwarded me to the International train ticket office. On the other side of town. They couldn’t give me an address, since they weren’t sure, but they knew it was close to the ‘Sputnik’ hotel. Since their English was as good as my Russian, I understood that it was in the Sputnik, so I traveled to the other side of town to try and convince the receptionist at the Sputnik. She just waved me away.

I tried my luck with a young fellow working in a bar inside of the Sputnik, and he forwarded me to a black man who also worked in the bar. He spoke perfect English. Mainly because he wasn’t black but from India. He didn’t know where I should go to, but asked the first guy again, and he pointed me to a place across the street.

There, indeed, was an international train ticket office, but strangely enough, on all the time tables that hung in the office, there was no mention of Warsaw at all. Still, I stood in line and waited. For about 90 minutes. Then, the ticket-girl told me I had to go somewhere else. To another place, not to far away, where they sold tickets to Warsaw and beyond. Some walking and some pointing later, I finally found the right place. The ground floor of an ugly Soviet style concrete block, totally redone, with white tiles on the floor, modern desks and even air conditioning. Within minutes, I left with my ticket. Still, by then it was already time for dinner.

The ticket for leaving Belarus is paid in two parts. You pay for the part in Belarus and you pay seperately, in Dollars, for the part in Poland. Before getting a ticket, I had changed Dollars to pay for my ticket, leaving me with 16 million(!) Belarussian Rubles. Because I had to pay part of the ticket with Dollars, after I got the ticket, I still had 12 million Rubles. Great.

With the money I still had, I bought a number of presents for the folks back home. Several Faberge eggs, a rather strange and very big club for killing people (apparantly called a Bachuga) and some lacquared boxes. The man from which I bought the club also asked me if I was interested in buying a gun.I declined friendly.

The official rate for changing dollars is some 25% less as the street-rate. Belarussians, officially, are only allowed to exchange a very limited amount of money to dollars every year. Therefore, changing on the street is safe and hassle free. They need the dollars because of the high inflation.

ll in all, on the way back, we were checked a whole five times. Passport, declaration, baggage, passport and passport again. Since you have to wait some three hours at the border to change wheels anyway, there wasn’t really a problem with still getting on time anyway, but it did make me a bit nervous. I mean, I had some 40 CDs with me, a big club, some illegal videos and loads of photo films. In addition, my visa hadn’t been correctly stamped as it should have been. Still, everything went fairly smooth. A Belorussian woman who worked for national television helped me in filling out the (all-Russian) deceleration form after we had talked about Dostoevsky and politics, so even the hardest part went pretty smooth.

Back to Minsk

August 03, 1999 • Blog

World » Belorus » Minsk » Downtown

In the train back to Minsk, for the first time the feeling hit me that my trip was almost over. I was looking at the scenery floating by when I actually realized that I was now about to leave Russia, after six weeks of hopping from one place to the next. My trip was almost over and I was on my way back. I felt sad, knowing that all things do come to an end.

On the way back, something almost surreal happened. Just before the Belorussian border, when the train was moving very slowly, maybe at some 10km/hour, we passed a small village. Just outside of the village, reasonably close to the train tracks, a big overhanging tree was standing with behind it nothing but rolling hills with the greenest fields imaginable. Under the tree, a couple was enjoying summer, it being some 25 degrees in the shade. Remarkably, the couple wasn’t a young couple. Judging from they’re looks they were 60, maybe 70 years old and they were smiling and enjoying summer. The woman used the tree to sit against and the man sat a little bit to the side, supporting himself with his left hand and resting his right hand on the woman’s knee.

When the train passed, they both looked up. I was looking out of the window and I could easily imagine that they were looking at me, smiling, watching me as I was leaving their country. Then, both man and woman held up their hands and started waving, saying goodbye to the visitor that I had been over these past weeks. Still smiling, I started to smile too and waved back, hoping for them to see me and me knowing that my trip to Russia had been worth my time.

I shared my compartment with two Belarussian colleagues who worked for an insurance-agency. Both were married, but not with each other, although invariably they made me think otherwise. Still, they both spoke good enough English and we managed to talk about Russia, politics, bananas and vodka (what else?).

Facing the music

August 02, 1999 • Blog

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World » Russia » St. Petersburg » Nevsky prospekt

I started to like the city so much, I figured I was going to come back in Winter, doing a tour of the Baltic states (which I did), and possibly rounding the Gulf of Finland and then coming back to the Netherlands via Helsinki and Denmark (which I didn't).

The next morning at breakfast (which was included in the price of the hostel), an older man (maybe about 70) was also having breakfast. American, he was also staying in the hostel. He constantly reminded me of Dennis Hopper, talking exactly the same as Hopper in Easy Rider and Apocalypse now. I wandered if he was on a constant high. Still, I was quite impressed by the guy being here, him being not so young anymore and even having some trouble walking 'normally'.

During the day, I visited the Alexander Nevsky monastery. A popular place with locals and tourists. Two graveyards (for which you have to pay, separately, to enter) house the graves of a whole bunch of well-known Russians. The church houses regular and very impressive services. When I made some audio recordings there, trying to conceal my recorder as much as I reasonably could, quite fast, a monk came up to me, ordering me to stop the recorder immediately.

What intrigued me most, though, was the dot matrix clock on one of the church walls.

The trick

Almost every book on the market about traveling in Russia warns you for not changing money on the streets. Up to here, I had always closely monitored my money and changed at kiosks where possible. The only exception being Novosibirsk, where I ended up with wads of 50Ruble bills (but the correct amount).

Prior to getting my train ticket, I needed to change cash. I was waiting at an exchange desk inside the train station when a man came up to me asking if I wanted to change money. I thought about it, remembered the warnings and thought 'what the hell'. I lost $40.

Afterwards, it was obvious to see what happened and that the whole trip had tired me way too much to be alert enough to understand what he was doing. First we agreed on an exchange rate, then I showed him the dollars, then he showed me the Rubles and counted them out. He gave them to me, but right after giving them, he said he had made a mistake and needed them back, to recount. That's where I made the mistake and where I should have quit. And I knew it, but I was just too slow.

Anyway, right after taking the money back recounting it and handing it back to me, the 'police' came, the asshole ran off and I was reprimanded by the 'police' for exchanging money on the streets. Of course, I was some 1000Rubles short, the exchange person taking it out just before handing the money back and the 'police' coming over. Thing was, the first guy was skinny and small, the 'police' two heads taller then me and much, much stronger. Making a fuss wouldn't have helped at all.

Oh well, I guess you could call it 'tuition fee'.

End

I had to choose between a train ticket to Warsaw or Minsk. Warsaw was some $55, where Minsk was only $20. The choice was obvious, although it also meant having to get another ticket in Minsk for getting to Warsaw again. I was going to take my chances.

Its hard to visit a stage play in summer. Most theaters have their summer breaks, not showing anything. Generally, the only shows that are open during summer, are the shows especially for tourists. Of course, they are also much more expensive then the regular shows. I was lucky however, and visited a ballet showing of the 'Nutcracker suite' for about $4. Regular tickets were already sold out (then again, I did try to buy them on the same day as the showing) and the only tickets left were the very exclusive ones at $12 a piece and up. I figured I would try my luck some minutes for the showing, to see if anyone was willing to sell regular tickets (at higher prices of course). There was, although only one person, an older lady trying to get rid of two regular tickets. I only needed one, so it took some haggling to convince her of selling me one, instead of two tickets, but I succeeded. And hey, I only paid about three times the regular fee (of $1.20).

Back in the hostel, I talked to the Australian couple whom I now shared a room with. They had been traveling for a year and were not even close to finishing. It surprised me how many people apparantly are traveling all over the world, and are taking so much time to do so. In the hostel I also talked to Gorge, a Mexican guy, who had now been traveling for 7 monhts, and had only covered a part of Asia, Budapest and now St. Petersburg. Definitely he kept my prejudice against Mexicans alive, by taking alot of time in going from one place to the next. He was already staying in St. Petersburg for two weeks, doing, at most, one 'thing' a day. Still, I found it very interesting to talk to all these travelers. There's so much to see and do in the world.

St. Petersburg is the nicest city on earth

August 01, 1999 • Blog

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World » Russia » St. Petersburg » Holiday hostel

The train arrived later than planned, but delay was only about an hour. Surprisingly, although Murmansk is way, I mean WAY, up north, the train arrived at the Moscow train station. First thing I did was grab a shoarma. Then I went for the nearby HI St. Petersburg hostel. Not surprisingly, it was fully booked (and Charles, the guy I had met in Khabarovsk hadn't checked in either). They advised me to go to the Holiday Hostel, a hostel close to the Finland station. Having no choice, I headed there.

The weather being very nice helped a lot in easily convincing me of St. Petersburg being the most beautiful city in Russia, and possibly the most beautiful city in Europe. The waterways, the buildings, the wide streets, the restaurants, the parks, the people, St. Petersburg really is a wonderful city.

Most of the time I spent here, I didn't do much at all. My original plan had been to visit St. Petersburg another time, when I would have much more time on my hands for, for example, visiting the Hermitage. Although I had ended up here after all, I decided I wouldn't visit the Hermitage this time round, but that I would come back some other time, to enjoy the museum of museums. I did go to a theater show and visited the Gulf of Finland but mostly I had had it with all the site seeing. I just relaxed.

The hostel was OK. Not great. Staff was invariably friendly and not friendly, mostly, I guessed, because of the Soviet not-so-much-customer-oriented approach to guests. The hostel did have -a quite expensive- laundry service, but for me, convenience won it over price. Still, the beds, at 140Rubles (some $6) a piece were very affordable. The first night I had a four bedded room to myself, but the last two nights I was joined by an Australian couple who had been traveling the world for several months now. At least, the room had a beautiful view on the Neva river and to top it off, the previous occupants had left a Wired.

Apparently, St. Petersburg is a popular place for world travelers. The elder couple I talked to in Moscow also were going to St. Petersburg, and I also met another American couple in St. Petersburg, John and Loni, who had been touring for several months and were planning altogether to keep on traveling for about a year.

In the evening,Loni, John and me drank a couple of beers in a bistro that was pointed out to me by Alexandra, one of the girls working at the hostel. We talked for so long a time, mainly them telling of their journeys, Loni and John came close to missing the last Metro back.

The train from Murmansk to St. Petersburg

July 31, 1999 • Blog

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World » Russia » Murmansk » Train station

My train left early, taking about 24hours to cover the 1550km from Murmansk to St. Petersburg. The trip was fairly uneventful, although very beautiful scenery floated by constantly and in the compartment next to me someone had actually taken with him a cat! I shared my compartment with a mom and daughter who constantly whispered to another, probably unaware that I wasn't able to understand them anyway. The girl looked like one of the Kelly Family. Two remarkable stations that we passed were '45km' and '5km'.

Drugged in Murmansk

July 30, 1999 • Blog

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World » Russia » Murmansk » Alyosha

For getting a hotel room, it is advisable to not show up in the middle of the night. I did. Although my plane landed around 11 in the evening, it took some time for the luggage to be hauled from the airplane. I wanted to get to town fast and although there supposedly was a bus service going, I opted for a cab and paid way too much. I thought I was going to be the only guy in the cab, but it turned out I was sharing the cab with a Russian couple. Probably they paid something, and I paid twice that, earning the driver a neat profit.

Back in the plane, a girl that sat next to me, whom I had a conversation with, thought that I was a sailor, returning to my ship. Okay, I hadn't shaved in a week or so, but a sailor? I mean, she couldn't even see any of my tattoos!

I arrived at the Meridian hotel (across from the very luxurious Arktika hotel) way after 12am but was happy to find the place still open. I could get a room without any problem and even had TV, and a private bath and toilet. What bugged me though, from the moment the plane landed, was, that the skies where quite bright, although clouded, making for a normal (albeit gloomy) day. At 12 o'clock at night, that's pretty remarkable. In the town center, children were still walking around and people were working on their houses, painting and such.

Murmansk very much resembles any other Scandinavian city. Not only are most signs in Russian and Finnish (or only in Finnish for, for example, the buses), the people also look Finnish and the center of town could be any other Scandinavian city, with its pastel colored, four story houses. The difference being that the pastel colors where in drab shape and that around the city center, the familiar Soviet style gray, concrete apartment blocks rose up as a cancer around the old town. As in Finland, people do speak a little bit of either German or English, which makes for easier communication, although in the evening, speaking English with a couple of locals almost got me.

On my floor in the hotel, there was a bar. Just before dinner, I went up and ordered a beer there. Minutes after me entering, a gorgeous girl came in, eying the people in the bar, me. She sat down behind me but soon came up to me, asking for a light. I had one but when she noticed I was foreign, she asked if she could sit down. Figuring she was just after a couple of free drinks, I figured it being okay.

Soon, however, a girlfriend of hers came in, who also sat down with us. Two girls, Lena and Ina, wanting free drinks. Hmmm. We started talking, partly in English, partly in Russian, and it turned out that the first girl had been married to a man twice her age and was now divorced. The second girl was still married, but her man was now in jail, serving a four year sentence, after committing a crime she didn't want to disclose. She did say, various times, how stupid he was. At first I figured I would have a chance at getting a shot at them. After these stories, I didn't even wanted to try. Then they drugged me.

I had gotten something to drink for the second girl and had come back to the table again. I didn't immediately notice that my beer had gone 'dead', and happily drunk it away. It soon hit me. Almost immediately falling asleep, I really had a hard time staying awake, and even a harder time trying to talk. After waving my head hence and forth a couple of times, the first girl mentioned that it was okay if I would go to my room. I said I was fine and would go in a couple of minutes or so.

It became clear to her that I wouldn't go to my room with them present and they soon backed off. Saying goodbye and leaving me at the table. Only then did I stumble back, enter my room, fell on the floor and slept for two hours. In my conversation with the girls, they mentioned that they were going to visit this big disco, the 69th parallel, just out of town and would hopefully talk to some foreigners there. No doubt, they had the same plans for him as they had for me. Maybe they were testing how much they needed for drugging someone.

One thing that did surprise me when talking to the two girls was about the city's 24hours of daylight in summer. I, for one, would love to live in such a place (taking as a burden the 24hour night in winter). The two girls, remarkably, weren't happy at all with the long days and long nights. They would much sooner live someplace where day and night would obey much more 'normal' patterns. Evidently, these remarkable day lengths aren't too good for your state of mind (witness the high suicide rates in northern Europe).

Heroes

During the day I went to see Alyosha. A concrete soldier, looking out over the bay of Murmansk. The soldier was erected in the eighties, when Murmansk joined the string of Soviet Hero Cities from the Great Patriotic War. The thing is REALLY huge, but what was more interesting, was the 360 view from the top of the hill on which Alyosha is standing. When I was there, the weather wasn't great. In fact, it was terrible. Every 10 minutes or so, the weather changed from raining and wind to sunshine or vice versa.

From the top of the hill, you could actually see the storms floating into the bay from the sea up north. Several kilometers apart, you could see the storms drifting in. So, on top of the hill, going from the complete south to the north, you could see some 5 areas of sunshine with another 5 storms in between. That was pretty cool!

Close to the statue, a bit down from me, I suddenly noticed a remarkably Dutch looking guy, with a video camera, taping a gorgeous girl, looking very Russian (black fur collar, black and very short skirt, black stockings, black high heels and blond dyed hair). Coming closer, I noticed they were talking English. I started a conversation and found out that they lived together, although not married, that she was from Murmansk and that her name was Natasha, and that he was called Hans, from Holland and that he had driven all the way from the Netherlands up to Murmansk with a TV in the back of his car. Friendly people, they gave me a ride back in to town.

Around town

I also got myself a train ticket to St. Petersburg. I figured that, since this being something of a remarkable version of Scandinavia, everything would be a tad better organized than in the other parts of Russia. Unfortunately, it wasn't. At first, I was sent via three ticket booths in the train station to the long distance ticket office, just outside of the train station. After waiting for several 'technical breaks' I finally was able to secure my ticket. To find out that the only real option for leaving again was going on the first train in the morning, leaving at about 7am, arriving in St. Petersburg the next morning. In the train station, some signs actually were also in English. The exit to the city was labeled 'Exit in a city'.

Besides Alyosha, another thing worth visiting in Murmansk is St. Nicolas Church. With a lively history, the church is currently being rebuilt and when I visited, not only where some 12 beggars (11 women and one man in a wheelchair) waiting in line at the gates, all union-shaped domes where lying on the ground, ready to be replaced.

In the church, two men where, what seemed, being baptized. With holy water, their temples, wrists and ankles were cleansed by the bishop, under heavy chanting by a choir of two. The bishop also cut away four pieces of hair from both men before leading them away to the back of the church, disappearing behind heavily decorated doors.

From Volgograd to Murmansk

July 29, 1999 • Blog

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World » Russia » Flying to Murmansk

After being called three times during the night, asking if I was interested in receiving a ‘lady’ once more, the taxi quickly transported me through the empty streets to the Volgograd airport. Soon after, I was on my way to Moscow.

My stopover in Moscow was something of a bad trip. First of all, we had to board the airplane, a YAK42, from the back, right under the tail wing, really at the back. Then, I had to spent some twelve hours between my plane arriving and my next plane leaving. The two planes stopped at two airports, so far apart, it being impossible to have two other locations being further apart and still in Moscow. Then, it was continuously raining with an outside temperature of some 15 degrees. When I left Volgogradat 6am it was already 25 degrees! Then again, we where treated to sweets during the flight (but of course no food).

I had to drag my own bags through the city and about the only good thing was, that there was a bus service going to a central airport bus station (really), from where another bus service went to the other airport I had to go to. The baggage claim area at the first airport actually was inside a TENT, right on the tarmac! When leaving the airport, about a thousand cab drivers asked me if I needed a cab and only when I started to wave dangerously with my umbrella (a leftover from Irkutsk) did they back off.

At the second airport, very ugly, small, but mainly catering for foreigners, I talked for some time with an older American couple from Seattle. Recently married, they where traveling around the world as a second honeymoon. Their next stop was going to be St. Petersburg. The man told me a story of how he had sent his kids on a trip around the world when they were 13 and 14 years old. ‘Thomas Cook and Sons took care of them’, leaving me with a fortune cookie wisdom: ‘We get old too soon and too late smart’.

I felt relieved when the call for my airplane finally came. I was looking forward to the high north. The temperature sure couldn’t be much lower as it was in Moscow, although the days would certainly be much longer.

Breakfast of champions

July 28, 1999 • Blog

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World » Russia » Volgograd » On the banks of the Volga

Breakfast was pretty good and luxurious, having it served in probably the city’s nicest restaurant. I had decided to stay two nights but since I had already seen mother Russia, there wasn’t much left for me to see in Volgograd. The satellite of the previous evening gave me the idea of visiting the planetarium, where I was treated on a light show on a very large semi-sphere, some 50 meters in diameter, hanging overhead.

After a relaxing day, I went back to the hotel pretty early and asked if there was a solution for me getting breakfast the next morning, even though I would have to leave at 4.30am. Since staff had been very helpful throughout my stay, I wasn’t really surprised that they had a solution. I could collect my breakfast before 11pm in the evening, so that I could take it with me the next day. Simply wonderful.

Volgograd is the home of mother Russia

July 27, 1999 • Blog

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World » Russia » Volgograd » Mother Russia

During the night, two men joined us in our compartment. The provodnik pounded on the door, VERY loudly and I had no choice but to open up. In the morning, one of the men turned out to be a reasonably fat and reasonably friendly policeman who wanted to know where I came from, convinced of me being Armenian. I wondered what would be the right story to tell, and I mentioned I was born in Iran but was now Dutch (the truth!). He seemed to be very interested, but since he only spoke Russian, all communication went through Jolla. Which was a shame. Since Jolla and me had talked extensively the previous night, she knew quite a lot about me and was able to answer a lot of questions from the policeman without consulting me. Not bad in a way, but it totally deprived me of talking to Jolla herself.

Volgograd is a very nice city. Very wide streets, relaxed people, buildings that are very well kept, and many people speak either English or German. What's sad about Volgograd is that during the Great Patriotic War, millions of people, both Russians and Germans died to either defend or capture this city, once called Stalingrad.

Even now, regularly, German tourists and veterans return to commemorate what happened in and around this city. Its almost impossible to convey what happened here during the war and only few books come close, although you might want to try Antony Beevor's Stalingrad. A masterpiece that makes you want to read the book as fast as possible from cover to cover and very accurately analyses the situations on both sides of the frontline in this part of the second world war that, too often, is conveniently forgotten by the outside world.

Finding a hotel wasn't too difficult since, when leaving the train station, you basically have no choice but to bump into the Intourist. According to the Planet (although I started to wonder why I still tended to believe what it said) this hotel, although not too cheap, by far was the best option in the city. I expected high prices, but managed to get a very clean and nice room for some 14 dollars. And although I had a toilet and a washing basin, I did have to share a shower. I didn't mind. Staff was very friendly, spoke several languages (including languages that I spoke myself) and there also was a tourist office inside the hotel where I could even get a plane ticket leaving the city again. Some minutes after I got to my room, my floorlady came in, dragging a very large fan to keep me cool with the high temperatures raging outside.

The single most important thing to go to when close to Volgograd, is visiting the war memorial dominated by the huge statue of mother Russia. The thing is bigger than the Statue of Liberty and although its a little bit kitsch, its impossible to not get impressed by the sheer size of the whole memorial site. In the city itself, there's a war museum, depicting the final battle in a 360degree panorama, where you are virtually on top of the 'Mamai mound', where the statue is located. This, too, is a must see, since it will start to give you an idea of what happened here in Stalingrad. Probably the saddest thing being that, if Stalin would not have ordered literally millions to die in the 'hell of Stalingrad', probably Hitler would have won the war and Stalin would have bean the Hitler of our past, since, although few people actually are aware of the fact, Stalin had more people killed during his reign than the whole of the Third Reich put together.

When you walk up to mother Russia, you're passing two brick walls, with a 3D rendering of parts of the battle of Stalingrad. In the background, music is playing and a commentator is reciting.

Relaxing city

Here too, just like in Rostov and Sochi, it was evident that the south of Russia clearly thrives significantly better than other parts of the country. In the evenings, people where not only strolling along the bank of the river, they were also actually eating, drinking and enjoying themselves on the numerous terraces everywhere and the only beggars in sight were gypsy children. Without a doubt, Volgograd is a great city to relax in.

In the hotel, I easily managed to get a ticket onwards. I contemplated my possibilities and finally decided I would fly to Murmansk, and from there take a train to St. Petersburg. The little drawback being that I had to be at the airport at 5.30 in the morning, was to have a stopover in Moscow for 12 hours and there I would have to travel from the south east to the north west (to an other airport) to get my connecting flight. In the tourist office, I got my first glimpse of Mother Russia on Mamai mound. In the picture they had hung up in the office, the statue was so big that it took me quite some time to actually see that the picture wasn't a trick photo. That statue was that huge. The specks at the bottom actually where people.

Phone calls where remarkably cheap; phoning the Netherlands was only 20Rubles, some $0.80, half that in the evenings. I did have to request my call at reception, but when I entered my room after signing in, the phone was already ringing, offering the requested call. In the evening, when I came back from a day's trip on the town, the phone was ringing again when I entered the room. It was about 1am and this time I hadn't requested a call. I remembered the two babes that had been waiting in the lobby and remembered Roma's advice from Irkutsk and started to have an idea why I got a call in the middle of the night. I was right, a woman was offered, although the girl on the other side of the line had a hard time communicating what she was offering. I considered trying to ask for both women at the same time, but decided against it. I wandered why I actually did that when I turned on the TV and flicked through the German, Italian and French channels available.

When walking back to the hotel, I passed a small chubby guy looking through a telescope. Beside him, some five people where looking up, talking frantically. Several times, the word 'Soyuz' fell, so I was inclined to look up as well, remembering that joke, where one guy stares up in to the sky (seeing nothing) where eventually a whole crowd gathers to look up, trying to find what the first guy is actually looking at. Here, however, there was something to look at. Following the pointing fingers, I noticed something the size of a low flying airplane moving across the sky, dimming its lights and lighting them over and over again. What it was? I don't know. It seemed impressive though! I involuntarily remembered the Russian project where a satellite was going to try, in orbit, to divert the rays of the sun to light a small area on earth, at night. The 'thing' resembled a satellite, since its wings where far too long and wide in relation to its length to be an airplane. That, or either I was looking at the latest American spy airplane.

A celebration and moving on to Volgograd

July 26, 1999 • Blog

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World » Russia » Rostov-na-Donu » Train station

Rostov celebrated its 250th birthday and in the evening a lot was happening in the city’s parks. Jazz bands where playing, there was an open air theater and, as in every other Russian city I had visited so far, the whole town seemed to be out on the streets. When I came back to my hotel, my floor lady had disappeared and, after trying to find her for some time, I bumped into the old woman on the stairs. She was puffing badly, waving a handkerchief in her own face to cool off and after slowly walking to her room and handing me my key, she secured me she was going to take a cold shower immediately. I shuddered at the image that involuntary cropped up in my head. This big bad floor lady, puffing and moaning under an ice cold shower.

I had ended the evening in the ‘Bar Kino’. Resembling your average expat bar (but without expats), the bar was very expensive and filled with young Russian men carrying mobile phones and young Russian women trying to seduce them. In one of the corners, a TV was showing Sean Connery and Michelle Pfeiffer in ‘the Russia House’.

In the morning, after grabbing a coffee with some pastries in a nearby (and very good) coffee shop I spent most of they day relaxing, reading, generally not doing very much, basically waiting for the time to arrive to walk to the train station.

The suburban train station was much more of a chaos than the long distance train stations are. No one speaking anything but Russian, I was actually checked by a very old policeman before getting on the first platform. He wanted to know whether my backpack was allowed, being at most 36kg. I said that of course it was and that settled it.

When I entered my compartment, it was empty. Not minding at all, I soon minded less at the fact that a gorgeous blond entered the compartment. Almost immediately followed by a very angry looking young man and a little fellow of about four. I left the compartment for them to pack.

After coming back, seconds before the train left, the man left (but the boy stayed) and the girl seemed to become seriously more happy at the man having left. We soon started talking, helped by the fact that she was an English teacher (although I would have expected more knowledge of English from an English teacher). Jolla, only 24 years old, was married to the guy she left behind, had one son (Tsenia (sp?)) and was going to live with her parents in a small village close to Derbent, a two day train trip from Rostov. It seemed she was leaving her husband since when
I asked when she would return to him, she said ‘in five months, maybe two years’.

Jolla was a really lovely girl. Her kid was a bit of a bore, since he couldn’t stand that his mom was constantly talking to this foreigner that he could not understand at all. He constantly was trying to get the attention
of his mum. Running through the compartment, the wagon and screaming at his mother. We really hit it off and after the boy had fallen asleep on the upper bunk, I considered seducing her and bedding her right there. Her being married and having a little boy, me having no protection and a very nice girlfriend at home kept me from doing so.

Police, women, but no boat in Rostov-na-Donu

July 25, 1999 • Blog

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World » Russia » Rostov-na-Donu » Downtown

Just outside the train station, against a lamp post, an older guy, maybe 60 years old, was sleeping, bare chested, with his coat as a pillow. Already, at 8am lots of people were walking to and fro, but nobody seemed to take notice, so I decided to not take notice either.

Since, when in Moscow, I had had a hard time in getting on a boat on the Volga and since the only cruise I had done was a short one from Nizhny Novgorod to Kazan, my plan was to get on a boat from Rostov upstream, in the direction of Volgograd. I didn't have high hopes of succeeding since the primary reason why I hadn't succeeded earlier was the general lack of service. Only few boats were now sailing on Russia's waterways.

So I wasn't very surprised when I found that, indeed, only one service was still in operation and left Rostov about once every month. Once every two weeks in high season. I strolled back from the river, where the terminal was, and checked into a hotel, the Moskovskaya. Clean very roomy rooms, with a view on Rostov's main street, at a bargain of $3 a night. Unfortunately, the shower's only had cold water, but with an outside temperature of more then 30 degrees Centigrade, that wasn't the biggest problem.

At the boat terminal, I had a hard time finding the actual office where they were selling the tickets or where they could supply me with some information on boat trips in general. Mainly since half the terminal seemed to be closed for repairs. When outside, l noticed a young man and a girl sitting on a bench, at the river side, talking. The man had red hair, a red beard, sun glasses and a t-shirt with the text 'I love New York'. Judging them to be foreigners, I dug up a cigarette and went over to ask for a light. Foreigners they weren't and it took some time for them to understand that I was very interested in finding out where I could get tickets or information. Strangely enough, the guy did speak very good English (albeit with a slight accent) but they couldn't tell me where to go.

The Planet, for a change (ahem), was completely inaccurate on Rostov. Not only is its map of Rostov lacking many streets and is the layout very inconsistent, many streets have also changed names and even more stores and restaurants that the Planet mentioned have disappeared completely.

I had almost ran out of books to read, so one of my objectives here, would be to find a new collection. Finding bookstores wasn't that hard. Finding ones that also sold non-Russian literature was a bit harder and I eventually decided to try my luck at the local Intourist hotel. There, the receptionist directed me to the seventh floor, where all I found was a lot of standard hotel rooms and two (not so pretty) maids cleaning them. I tried my luck elsewhere. Which eventually worked, since I ended up with finding a Dutch book in one of the city's bookstores. And even more surprising, this store not only had Dutch and English books, but also French, German, Polish and Scandinavian literature!

Police

Just before entering the train station to secure a ticket some time later, for going to Volgograd, police stopped me to check my papers. A brief look at my passport and visa and I could continue going in. Seconds later, inside, I was checked again. Now more thoroughly. In seconds, three policemen where busy checking everything I had. One was looking at my passport, a second was scrutinizing my visa and a third was going through all my stuff. I had to put everything I had in my pockets on a table and everything was thoroughly looked at, several times.

Apparently, after some time, the two going through my papers found something more interesting. With my papers still in their hands, they started talking to two very nice looking girls, discussing what their plans where for the night. Meanwhile, I had to wait. Sometime later again, I was instructed to pack everything up again and I figured they where done with me, I could continue. Wrong. Instead of handing over my papers to me, they where given to a plainclothesman, flanked by two very sinister looking men. The first guy showed me his badge and I had to come with him. He mumbled some words vaguely resembling 'inspection' and 'detective' and I was carted of, first walking through the whole train station, then outside the other end, entering a small door at the side of the station, walking up several stairs and then entering a very small office.

The three went through my papers again and again I had to take out all my stuff. Repeatedly I was asked where I came from, if the dollars I had where fake, why Rostov wasn't listed in my visa and why I hadn't had a stamp from my hotel. When they finally believed I really was Dutch, they repeatedly asked if I had any drugs with me. Since I wasn't stupid, I hadn't, but only when I hinted that the cigarettes I had with me could be considered drugs as well, did the tension ease. I offered all three of the men several cigarettes and we started talking a little bit about Russia, Europe, tourism and, of course, Russian women. Minutes later, we happily shook hands, I could pack up my stuff and was allowed to go. I took the same trip back into the train station and got myself a ticket to Volgograd for the next day. For the first time, I would have to take a train not from the long distance train station, but from the suburban train station.

Women

Back in the city, I couldn't help noticing, again, how well Russian girls seem to package themselves. They really look good in their dresses, hot pants, deep decollete, thin waists, high heels and long hair. But I, maybe for the first time, also noticed that, although their bodies are heavenly, in general their faces are less nice. Not terrible or bad, but just not up to par as compared with their bodies.
That would easily explain why older Russian women are terrible to look at. Sure, they're older and fatter. Fatter because they haven't learned to look after themselves the way the youngsters do. But what's more in line is that, as to their faces, these older women are nothing but older versions of the young goddesses littering the Russian streets. I always wandered how Russian women seemed to turn sour after 35, but it seems that they don't, not really. They just continue along the paths that their bodies have laid out for them. You just notice it now, because the older ones tend to dress worse and haven't looked after themselves as the younger generation does. Unfortunately, this only can mean one thing. If these younger babes get older, they might still be slender and very well packaged, their faces will age just like they have aged for the older generation. I shuddered when I considered this.

Speeding through Omsk to get to Sochi

July 24, 1999 • Blog

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World » Russia » Sochi » Beach

As he had promised earlier, Roma did drop me off at the airport. Quite a feat, considering I had to be there at 7am! We said goodbye, promising we'd write, which of course didn't happen, and this time I had a much easier time finding the right terminal, having to use the same one as the previous time I had a stopover in Irkutsk.

There were only two others waiting in the room, a very drab looking older man and a lovely (but very tall) girl. Figuring they both had to be foreign (this wasthe foreigners' terminal) I started talking to the girl. Surprise; she was Russian. Still, she also was going to Sochi, so all I had to do was stay close to her in order to arrive at my destination. Why she was waiting in the foreigners' terminal, she couldn't tell,
though. Later, I figured she was flying first class, just like the drab older guy. However, the difference between first and second class, getting the same food on the same chairs, was more difficult to understand.

The chairs were put closer together than in a crowded Eurolines bus but we did have a choice of meat and fish. Hurray for Baikal Airlines!

Omsk airport resembled an abandoned train station. Many empty stalls, some still selling newspapers and beer. Only a few people here and there and in general, a very drab place.

I bought Svetlana, the girl I was tagging along with, a drink and I learned that she was going to visit her husband in Sochi. She herself was staying with her parents near Irkutsk but now it was time for her to go back again. Although she admitted to not feeling much like going back. I really wondered why, since I expected Sochi to be among the better places to live, in Russia, although I must say I didn't know her husband. Not only a better place to live because of the better climate, but more because of the better economy, masses of tourists spending heaps of money just to get a tan.

Lucky for me, having Svetlana around got me at the right time at the right gate and we took off only some 90 minutes after arriving in Omsk. Not that I felt bad for leaving the place. Not only did the airport fail to impress me, just before landing, we could see Soviet-style apartment blocks stretch from horizon to horizon. And then, when going through customs, the police felt it necessary to question me and go through my luggage for more then 30 minutes. And to top it off, on the plane, I sat next to two transvestites. To be honest, they where very good looking women.

Fair damsels

Indeed, Sochi seemed a little bit more 'Western' than many of the towns I had visited so far. Not only were the buildings in better shape, hotels where lining almost the whole way from the airport to the city center. The town being so close to the Caucasus also left its mark. Even before entering the airport terminal after leaving the plane, already twice where my papers checked by militia keeping an eye on all passengers. Apparently, to them I looked more like a terrorist then a tourist.

I expected it to be easy to get a place to stay for one or two nights. I hadn't yet made reservations anywhere since I had started my trip. At the entrance of the terminal, fair damsels where holding up signs, shouting to get the attention of the wary travelers, trying to sell rooms in upper-class hotels. Deciding that wasn't for me, I waited for my luggage to appear. I figured it wouldn't hurt to ask for prices.

Some discussion with a very nice looking lady got me a bottom price for a room. One night, wait for it, 250 dollars. Yes, two hundred and fifty dollars. Bargaining, after a while, got it down to 160. I figured I was going to try in town. After all, the Planet mentioned a booking office at the main train station.

There, I wasn't even worth looking at. After pressing on for quite a while, a youth volunteered to translate for me, talking mainly to me and occasionally to the lady at the counter, her almost covering herself in papers. The only thing I could get was a cottage for 10 days, at $35 a day and regular hotels where booked until as late as October! I gave up, stood in line for over an hour to get a train ticket, leaving Sochi the same day for Rostov which would make it possible for me to sleep on the train, and went for a stroll around town.

What's so strange about getting a train ticket in Russia is that, although your time at the counter is limited to one to five minutes, even with as little as 5 people waiting in front of you, you could still have to wait for up to an hour. Just what are these people doing that makes the wait so long?

Sochi isn't any different from your average beach resort. Accept for the bunkers, on the beach, being half covered by the water. Busy beaches, tanned and beautiful girls, closed beaches, reserved for hotel guests and expensive, expensive drinks and snacks.

The temperature was good though, some 30 degrees Centigrade in the shade. The whole climate is reflected in the way people live and work in this part of the country. Much more like Mediterranean people, life is more relaxed and people are more passionate. Strangely enough, the city was also very clean, and well kept.

Back

Trains leaving Sochi either go north or south. Since they generally don't leave Russia here, they go no further south then Adler, some 25 kilometers away. Likewise, all trains leaving Sochi and going north, almost always start in Adler. Nevertheless, my train managed to be 35 minutes late. I got in and immediately was almost killed by the heat hanging inside the wagons. After entering my compartment, I immediately took of my shirt and opened the window, welcoming the breeze after leaving the station.

The train station was so very much filled with people when I bought my ticket, for a while I was mildly afraid it would be impossible to get a ticket, leaving Sochi on the same day, me having to wait days and days to finally leave this Sunspot. Strangely, the train was almost empty, although I did share my compartment with a very old bald guy, no teeth, open shirt, and the biggest belly I had ever seen. Apparently a heavy smoker, he had a very difficult time breathing, coughing almost constantly. Naturally, he only spoke Russian.

Another indication that these parts of Russia are better off then the rest, was the fact that on none of the train stations between Sochi and Rostov where people selling everything for next to nothing. Apparently they already had all they wanted and didn't have to lower themselves to having to sell all they could for all they could get.

Finally, lake Baikal

July 23, 1999 • Blog

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World » Russia » Listvyanka » Promenade

The whole process of getting to lake Baikal was quite an interesting one. The ferry terminal for boats leaving for Baikal is quite a bit out of town, so the first step was to take a (very slow) bus service to the edge of the city. Arriving just in time for the first boat leaving, it turned out that, because of heavy fog, all services where cancelled until further notice.

The number of people waiting was steadily growing and after I learned that tickets where only sold on the ferries themselves, I started to hang around in the vicinity of the pier, trying to already secure a place on the first ferry leaving Irkutsk, by being among the first group being able to get on a boat (whenever that would turn out to be).

Some 90 minutes after its scheduled take off, the first boat was allowed to leave. The bad news was that it wasn't going to Listvyanka, the little town just on the shores of Baikal, close to Irkutsk, where I had planned to go. Some questioning made it clear that that town actually was a stopover and the good news was that in stead of a slow, regular, ferry, the trip would be done by a much faster ship, saving time to get there. During the trip, regularly big banks of fog enshrouded the boat. Pretty scary, considering the river was littered with small boats with fishermen, trying to make a living.

Then, since so many ferries where cancelled, and so many people had been waiting, the ferry I was on was filled to the max and more. You either had a seat or you didn't and not having a seat meant not being able to move because of so many people having to stand. Being among the early ones to enter the boat, I was able to secure a place on deck, having one of the best places to watch the scenery go by. It didn't seem to be possible, though, to buy a ticket anywhere, so I happily obliged to that. That is, until I noticed a very petite and lovely girl crawling through the crowd, checking for tickets and telling the ones that didn't have one, where on the boat to buy one. I had to wrestle to get below deck and got myself a ticket.

Listvyanka was a really nice place to visit. Very quiet but in a way also very touristy. Although solely focused on Russian tourists, in stead of international ones. By chance I joined a marriage service in the town's small church, but spent most of the day doing 'nothing'. In the evening, totally relaxed, after enjoying a HUGE smoked salmon for less then a buck, I took the boat back to Irkutsk.

Back at the hotel I bumped into Kiril and Dima, two friends of Roma, and they asked me if I could try to get Roma to invite us all to his Dacha for the evening. I called Roma some minutes later and indeed tried. However, Roma had a better idea. We visited two girlfriends of his (Olya and Julia with two more cats thrown in for good measure) who had made all sorts of snacks (including Pelmeni) and we had quite a good time…

Serbian in Irkutsk

July 22, 1999 • Blog

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World » Russia » Irkutsk » Angara hotel

I had been a little bit downcast about the relatively high price of the room, when I made the reservation the day before. However, for a change, breakfast was included in the price and it wasn’t the one bread roll with jam and either tea or coffee. In fact, I could choose whatever I wanted from a large table, filled to the brim with goodies and a multitude of dishes. Sure, it wasn’t a Sheraton, but I guess you could call it a Sheraton in Russia. This made more than up for the moths and the cockroaches.

I decided to ‘chill’ for the day and go to Baikal the next day. Saw a couple of things I missed the previous day, had my hair cut (for $3) and bought Star Wars, the Phantom Menace for $1.35.

I had agreed to meet Roma again in the evening. We ate at a Serbian restaurant, drinking Czech beer and afterwards went to the ‘Island of youth’, drinking more beer. To my big surprise, when at the island, we actually bumped in to the group of Belgians I had already come across in Ulan Ude! Imagine, the chances of that happening!

The Angara

July 21, 1999 • Blog

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World » Russia » Irkutsk » Angara hotel

Just a couple of kilometers before entering Irkutsk, a huge picture of Lenin has been laid on one of the hills that the train passes. Cheery, he greets all trains coming by.

Finding a hotel in Irkutsk wasn't all that easy. All the hotels the Planet suggested where gone, yes gone. Except one, the Angara. A very communist looking hotel and expensive, filled with Chinese and Koreans. The first room they offered me was about 35 dollars and only after pressing on for quite some time did they give me one for less, some 15 dollars. It did come with complimentary slippers and a good tub. But also 3 moths, who where happily flying around the room when I entered.

The bathroom also had two complimentary toothbrushes -with- toothpaste. The toothpaste however was completely dried up and wouldn't come out of the tube. Meanwhile, I noticed a cockroach escaping from my backpack.

My primary objective here in Irkutsk was to go and see lake Baikal. Before leaving on my trip I set two goals for myself. The first would be reaching Baikal, the second to go as far as Vladivostok. Vladivostok I had already 'done', so I had only one important objective left. After visiting Baikal, I would try St. Petersburg, although originally I had decided to go there some other time and then staying much longer.

The Aeroflot office in the hotel almost immediately ended the feasibility of my plans by disclosing that it was next to impossible to fly to either St. Petersburg or Moscow and I didn't want to go by train all the way. By now, I had seen enough of trains and the whole ride would simply take too long.

Another option was to visit the Black Sea area. Also something I wanted to do, as it would give me an opportunity to visit Volgograd, what used to be Stalingrad, the city completely sacked by the German and Russian armies when Hitler tried to secure the oilfields in the Caucasus in the 'Great Patriotic War'. I had an opportunity to fly to Sochi, that novo-Russki's holiday resort of holiday resorts, and I took it.

Walking back through the lobby of the hotel, a small boy, of about 10, tried to sell pictures his father was supposed to have made. After taking a look up close, I concluded the pictures where printed with a computer printer and some seemed like they had been adjusted with the help of a tool like Repligator. I decided not to buy, although the boy, speaking perfect English, was quite intriguing.

I spent most of the day strolling around town, taking in what the city had to offer. Irkutsk is a very nice place, filled with tree-lined boulevards, an impressive river, loads of terraces and hordes of young people with especially the girls dressed as lovely as possible and somehow all looking like young Sophia Lorens.

Buryatian customs

After seeing most of the city, I ended up in the city's main square. For a change not in the middle of town, but right on one of the shores of the river, the Angara. The place was filled with young people, standing in groups, many drinking beer. In the crowd, artists were showing off, vendors were selling ice cream, soda and snacks and that all-Russian type of food, shashlik could be had at several places around the square.

I had just found a place to read through my Lonely Planet, deciding on what I still needed to see in Irkutsk, when a very tall fellow asked me (with a heavy American accent) 'are you studying your Russian?'. Roma, as he was called, introduced me to a couple of his friends and told me he had spent some time in the States, studying law (and apparently having a great time, mentioning his time there in about every third sentence) and was now working for a US company in Irkutsk.

We got off pretty well and Roma invited me and his group of friends over to his place, where we spent the rest of the evening drinking vodka and beer and munching on a collection of Russian dishes. Being indoors was very convenient since it, quite suddenly, had started to rain badly. In short, it was a very good evening. What I found remarkable was, that Roma and all his friends (well, the ones I met) spoke very good English. Anyway, I had a very good time. I did take some time to convince the remainder of the group (Roma, two other guys and two girls) to not go swimming at 1am. In the rain.

From Katya, one of Roma's friends, I learned that it is a Buryatian custom to throw a bottle of vodka on the road just before going on a long journey (by road). Ulan Ude is the capital of Buryatia and Katya actually came from there, her mother coming to Irkutsk that very day (a seven hour drive). I wander what started that tradition, very bad vodka or drunk drivers.

Dima, another of Roma's friends who was also at his place told me the one joke that Russians know, featuring the Netherlands, or more precisely Amsterdam: Three men, one Russian, one American and one British are talking to another, telling each other how great their countries actually are. 'Our air force is so big', the American says, 'that if all our plains would be off the ground, they would block the sun completely'. 'Well', the Brit replies, 'if all our ships would be in the water, all the oceans of the world would be covered'. So the Russian guy listens and then starts to say, probably knowing its difficult to meet these extraordinary claims 'I have a friend from Amsterdam, he's got a dick that's 50cm long!' The other two, taken a little back by the Russian statement conclude that they can't beat a story like that. 'Well', the American says, 'actually, if all our planes would be in the air, you would still be able to see a little bit of the sun.' Then the Brit continues 'and some sees wouldn't actually completely be covered, if all our ships would be out there'. The Russian, knowing that he has overdone it a bit, feels he has to be a little bit more truthful as well towards his two friends. 'My friend doesn't actually live in Amsterdam', he says, 'but in some small town twenty minutes from Amsterdam'.

At the end of the evening, Roma walked me back from his apartment to a main road nearby. His place was pretty far from the center and he was going to help me get a car back to town. I actually ended up with an Armenian cab driver who just couldn't stop talking. Of course, he was convinced that I was Armenian too. Not knowing what would be the best truth to tell him, I just settled for being Armenian as well. The guy was delighted. I wanted to give him a tip when at the hotel, but he wouldn't accept it, just rambling on, saying that Armenians should help each other as often as possible.

When walking towards the main road, Roma warned me of getting calls in the night from people offering me girls. If that happened I should refuse, not accepting anything they would offer me. I only half believed the story, for one I hadn't been approached yet, and I started to enquire what a reasonable price would be for ordering a girl to your room. 'Well', Roma said gravely, 'it depends, but they sometimes start as low as 100 Rubles, you know.' I decided it had to be an 'urban legend', since 100 Rubles was only 4 dollars.

At the hotel, I was happy to finally be able to take a nap. A moth was flying around in the bathroom and just after lying down, the phone rang. Something in Russian and me saying I didn't speak any. Then, 'would you like a girl?' I didn't believe my ears. 'Would you like a girl', again. 'Ehm, no thanks', I said, remembering Roma's advice. 'Okay, good night' the friendly female voice said at the other side of the line. I started wondering and fell asleep.

Monk-ey business

July 20, 1999 • Blog

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World » Russia » Ulan Ude » Downtown

Ulan Ude might radiate a laid back feeling, the Datsan and its environs do that even more. The monastery is some 30km out, literally in the middle of nowhere. You can see for miles around, where there's next to nothing. Just green, mountains in the distance, and the Datsan. Really enjoyable. Even the Datsan was quiet, almost no-one seeming to be on the premises.

At around twelve (we where there really early) a service started in the 'church'. A small group of people had flocked from somewhere and we had the opportunity to enjoy a very nice show. Afterwards, we where even luckier, where we were able to join a Russian couple whom were given a guided tour of the grounds.

When waiting for the bus to take us back, it became clear no buses where going anymore, although we were not the only ones waiting. a taxi that stopped (from where did it come?) was full by the time we decided we wanted to take it. So we started walking back and wanted to catch a bus/car on the way back to town. Only after minutes of walking did a regular bus service pick us up. On the way back, the bus lost a wheel…

Two surprises

In the evening, Charles and I were enjoying a lukewarm beer again on one of the city's terraces. This time, a group of people sat down close to us, clearly tourists. I couldn't make out what language they where exactly talking to another, until one of them moved to the counter and started ordering drinks, counting the number of beers he had to order in Dutch and ordering in perfect Russian! Listening a bit closer, I still couldn't make out the exact language, but it seemed to be a Dutch dialect. Charles and I started talking to them. They turned out to be Belgian, all living close to Brussels. The guy who ordered the drinks was a Russian professor, teaching at one of Brussels' universities. This guy lived only two blocks away from where I lived in Brussels!

However, that wasn't the only surprise I had that evening. Back in Moscow, when enjoying the sun, drinking a Pepsi next to the Kremlin, I was approached by two elder men. They claimed to be working in the Pushkin museum as restorers. After a long, remarkable conversation, they wanted to have money in return for some postcards they had given me. Charles had had the exact same thing happen to him! Same guys, same cards, same place same questions.

We had decided to travel together, towards Irkutskas well. I would get off the train there, Charles, since he had already been there, would travel on to Novosibirsk, in the direction of Moscow. We wanted to travel by day, to enjoy the view from the train. The stretch between Ulan Ude and Irkutsk, since it glides past lake Baikal, sometimes only centimeters away, is said to be the most beautiful part on the Trans-Siberian railway. However, on almost the whole trip, we had the worst weather imaginable, that almost continuously blocking our view.

A head in Ulan Ude

July 19, 1999 • Blog

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World » Russia » Ulan Ude » Downtown

I stayed in the hotel Geser. Reasonably new, affordable and very Western. Even with loads of friendly staff! And the room even came with a very nice breakfast and a recommendable restaurant. I was totally taken aback by so much western-style luxuriousness, in the middle of Asia.

There are two things that set Ulan Ude apart from many other cities in Russia. One is its closeness to the Mongolian border; you can easily recognize the different race that prevails here. Two is the very much oversized Lenin head on Ulan Ude's main square. It's really big.

Just like in Khabarovsk, there's nothing much to do in Ulan Ude. Besides the main street, which is not even a major shopping street, all other streets are filled with wooden houses, in stead of brick. However, somehow, the city has an airy, relaxed feeling to it, instead of the boredom that prevails in Khabarovsk. The slowly flowing Ude river, with hordes of swimmers and fisherman certainly helps to create this feeling.

In One of churches I visited, while I was strolling around town, three people, seemingly only visitors, where 'merrily' singing away.

In the evening, enjoying lukewarm beer on one of the city's terraces, a blond fellow walked past my table. Surprise, Charles had taken a train earlier as expected and had already arrived in Ulan Ude. We agreed to travel to the Datsan (a Buddhist monastery) that was close to Ulan Ude, the next day, together.

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