A Mongolian Odyssey - part 3

As expected, the new day brought with it an enormous breakfast, though thankfully we were spared the impossible task of another three course, carb-heavy feast. Immediately after this I took the opportunity to sate my inner child, assuming traditional Mongolian costumes and using said costumes to pose (with the bow and arrow, naturally) for a bit of a photo op. This was great fun, and followed by a lengthy respite from the freezing weather, reading about the country I was already falling in love with.
'What next?', I hear you cry! Lunch, of course. A chicken curry(ish) sort of affair left me feeling ready to burst, more than adequate to keep me going through the afternoon's trip to the Chinggis Khan statue complex. In honour of the great man, a huge steel statue has been built out in the middle of nowhere, logic that I'm sure the warlord would approve of. Nevertheless, it was a spectacular sight. Devoid of any other visitors, we had a bit more fun with more nomadic costumes, enjoyed the views from the top (you can climb up to his chest, and emerge onto a small viewing platform), and I bought a small chess set as a souvenir. The icing on the cake came on the return journey, on which we spotted a solitary yak. I love yaks (and have absolutely no discernible reason for this unconditional adoration). So, I was absolutely over the moon. As I tried to get some pictures, said yak promptly ambled off into the distance. Majestic doesn't quite fit as a description, but I'm sure you get the picture.
More food was next on the agenda, laden with yet more carbs. Afterwards, beers, Russian champagne and a bit of gambling saw the night out in a more than enjoyable style.

After the cursory stuffing at breakfast, I was sad to leave the ger camp behind, which had probably been the highlight of my fledgling voyage thus far. My mind was soon preoccupied with the stunning scenery of the return journey, however, and upon re entering Ulaanbaatar we tucked in to a Chinese-style hot pot, cooking our entire meal ourselves in a rich, spicy soup. Horse proved to be tasty, though unsurprisingly not too different from beef! Also, we investigated the National Museum, which I was both pleased and faintly surprised to find wasn't simply another homage to the great unifier, who has his visage plastered across almost everything the country produces. By happy coincidence, we also stumbled upon the Dutch contingent in the museum. Meeting up later on for food and drinks at the Grand Khaan pub a second time was a great laugh, even if the unhealthily loud live band made it nigh impossible to hold a normal conversation. Overall, an extremely satisfying end to a wonderful few days in Mongolia - but, another train trip beckoned!

A Mongolian Odyssey - part two

Another decent hotel breakfast paved the way for a lengthy car trip east of Ulaanbaatar to a nomadic ger camp. I'm fairly sure there are a fair few of these set up for tourism purposes, but as it was low season, we were the only guests! The ger itself  (a round, fur-lined tent sort of contraption) was surprisingly comfortable, clean, and the iron wood-burner stove heated the interior well enough to stave off the chill from the outside. Lunch came early, and it was enormous! A salad, soup and full meal of goulash filled me and filled me with confidence for the rest of my stay out in the steppes. To burn off this super-meal, I did a bit of archery with our guide. I'm sure my incompetence might have played some role, but I'd prefer to blame my failures on how spectacular the surrounding landscape was, and the bitter chill which caused me to lose all sensation in my fingers within minutes of leaving the ger.

Shortly afterwards, we had a chance to try riding Mongolian horses- hardy but small beasts, which seemed to completely ignore all of my commands and only respond to the voice of the nomadic gentleman who brought the horses out to us. Helpfully, he spoke no English. Not a word. This was made all the better by the bit of paper I signed waiving all liability, before I realised my helmet didn't fit. I'm still alive, though!

Late afternoon gave us a chance to go and see a nearby abandoned monastery, another legacy of Soviet occupation. En-route, we stopped at a rocky formation with a small opening where we learned that 100 monks from said monastery hid during the communist revolution, for a whole week. It's difficult to imagine quite how bad conditions would have been. After this prelude, the monastery itself, populated only by wild dogs and aging rock-paintings, was an eerie experience. I was considerably lightened up by a stop at a nomad's ger on our return journey, however. He invited us in though we had turned up unannounced, offering us Mongolian donuts (tasty), milk curds (not tasty), home-brewed alcohol and tea and fermented horse milk. It was just as delicious as you'd imagine (I did actually enjoy it). We then saw a camel in the livestock pen outside the ger, rounding off the experience rather well indeed!

That evening, another three course extravaganza involving steamed dumplings was closely followed by beer and games involving sheep knucklebones and cards (Mongolian poker, or 'star' appears to be my game).

Side note: it might sound incredibly pretentious, but the night sky is amazingly clear when you're away from civilisation. I had a bit of a 'wow, I'm really doing this' moment. Gap yah etc.

A Mongolian Odyssey - part one

First impressions of Mongolia were a little bit disheartening. Waiting in the train station for our transport to clear customs, I was witness to a heavily inebriated man being tasered and escorted outside, amidst much apathy from onlookers. Upon trying to withdraw money from an ATM, I was then accosted by two more drunken men, though thankfully less prone to violence. Having assured them I wouldn't use that particular ATM (for this was apparently their wish), I then tried every other machine in walking distance to little effect, before returning to successfully withdraw some of the local currency from the original machine. This promised to be an exciting few days.

Hopping lightly back aboard, and puzzling through the on-board timetable (this is more difficult than it sounds- local times and Moscow time are used!), we discovered we had to awake at 4am... predictably enough, our response to this was to head straight to sleep.

Rising still proved quite the struggle, but we were met from the carriage in Ulaanbaatar by our local guide, who joined us for the entirety of our Mongolian escapades. Heading speedily to a decent hotel, I made up for lost time and fell asleep in the double bed I had to myself. Even the most uncomfortable of single mattresses would have been plush compared to train sleeping, so I dropped off almost immediately- only to wake up moments later for a day of activity, the blow only slightly cushioned by a marvellous bacon and eggs combination. It wasn't actually that good, but I would have been ecstatic with muesli at this point.

A short walk to the Buddhist monastery of the city followed this most needed of breakfasts. Aesthetically less impressive than many of the religious buildings which adorn Russia's bigger cities, I soon learnt that this was in part due to the Russians themselves (Soviets, if we're being pc). During their occupation of Mongolia, of which I admit I previously knew little, they slaughtered hundreds of the monks who had populated and worshipped in Buddhist monasteries around the country. As a consequence of the crushing force of the Soviet military's power, although Buddhism is still the most popular religion in Mongolia, far more people follow no faith at all- and even more surprisingly, locals here appear to harbour little if any resentment for these actions. It's baffling. To get back on topic, one aspect of the monastery took me aback: a 26 metre high Buddha statue. Rather daunting, if I say so myself.

Wandering around the monastery soon proved rather too much for fingers and toes all around, -15 degree temperatures forcing us to evacuate to the 'State Department Store'. Highly recommended for almost anything one could desire, including books, swords, costumes, electronics and giant pictures of Chinggis Khan*, I bought a bit of topical reading and some postcards, before making for the city centre. This was incredibly modern and flash, and it was whilst taking a picture of the rather large main legislative building that I spotted someone who got a little too awestruck (or slipped on some ice, but that's less exciting) and spectacularly plummeted down the main steps.

Lunch followed: a first real Mongolian meal, and meaty was the word to describe it. Greasy would also be fairly apt, as I demolished several dumplings, a hefty salad, some local beer and salty (?) tea. Hmm.
Refuelled, we flagged down a car (there aren't really taxis in Ulaanbaatar, regular car drivers occasionally stop if you wave them down) and hitched a ride to the city's viewpoint, adorned with a memorial to fallen soldiers in a surreal cartoonish mosaic style. While odd, the detail was impressive, and the views of the city added to the moment.

The rest of the day can be swiftly summed up: having found the 'Grand Khaan Irish Pub' we settled down for a tower of 3 litres of Chinggis beer. Predictably enough, following this we were not at our most productive, and I just ended up watching football in the hotel's flash, yet completely deserted bar (despite numerous staff). It's quite difficult to understand the country, but that doesn't prevent me from liking it.

*This is apparently Genghis Khan's real name. Who knew!?

Farewell to the motherland

After a wonderful if cold couple of days at the lake's edge, another frantic transfer ensued, with the destination: Kirov Square, in Irkutsk. Having been lulled into a false sense of security by the sheer speed at which or car had been driving for the entire trip, I was rudely reminded of the treacherous ice which could have (and probably should have) already ended my trip as we passed several nasty-looking traffic accidents in the city. Spending the rest of the day in Irkutsk, and once again meeting up with the trusty Dutch duo, we (including the ozzie, who I feel I've neglected to mention to much- sorry!) investigated ice sculptures and some more superb examples of  Russian orthodox churches. Towards sunset, we also witnessed an unusual sight: steam rising from the frozen river and obscuring much of the landscape in a mystical (yes, it really was quite eerie) way. This was followed by a taste of home, as we had a farewell dinner and drinks at the 'London Pub'. Unfortunately, I didn't have any nice beer as the cheapest 'decent' import they had was Newcastle Brown for about £7. So close, yet so far. Another train beckoned, and almost immediately upon boarding that evening, I passed out, dead to the world...

However, my blissful sleep was interrupted at a most unseemly hour. Sharing a compartment with two portly gentlemen (one Mongolian, one Russian) meant that space was hardly at a premium. This wasn't the issue- it was the fact they took an hour to get up, making every conceivable noise you could imagine, knocking against my bed and generally just being a bit inconsiderate, considering it was 5 am in the morning. Both my Australian companion and I breathed a sigh of relief as they finally disembarked at Ulan-Ude (largish town near the border), but our relief was short-lived as we discovered they had abandoned what appeared to be a bag of raw meat on the train, just in time for the border crossing. I'm sure this would have gone down extremely well with the Russian customs officials had they discovered it. After Ulan-Ude, the previously packed-to-the-rafters train seemed eerily empty, a feeling exacerbated when we were ejected from the carriage on both sides of the border for several hours (Naushki and Sukhbatar). Biting cold, lack of toilets and a scarcity of any sort of immigration officers to ask questions made this rather an exciting experience. But, if this trip has taught me anything so far, it's to approach everything with toilet paper and a smile on your face. Not at the same time, though.

It would probably make it difficult to make friends if you did.

Being whipped by a Russian

Immediately from the train, I met our local guide, a lovely bloke. Saying goodbye to our new Dutch, Schwarzenegger-loving friends amidst promises to meet over the next couple of days, this new terrible trio (Brit, Oz and Ruski) promptly boarded another form of transport. Our stay in Irkutsk was not a long one, and as we hurtled towards our next destination in treacherous conditions, I spotted the first speed limit sign since my arrival in Russia- sometimes you just have to smile! Inevitably, said marker was completely ignored, and shortly afterwards as our vehicle crested a snow covered hill, Lake Baikal flooded the horizon. This was a moment which the word breathtaking cannot do justice. Even in January, the lake (which is the deepest in the world and contains 20% of the world's unfrozen fresh water) fails to freeze. Apparently, this only happens a few weeks later- and this winter was especially mild (Though -20 didn't seem especially mild at the time). Skirting the lake closely, we soon reached our final destination of the day: Listvyanka, immediately on the shore. Immediate thoughts (after incredulity at our survival from the trip unscathed) were mainly to related to dogs. There were lots of dogs. They all bark. Lots. Yes, the lake itself was utterly spectacular, in majestic contrast to the crumbling soviet buildings littering its circumference. But the dogs were not. Did I mention the dogs?

Having spent some time wandering the lake's edge, we saw the day out over dinner in a big group- for some reason, the majority of the restaurants seemed to be closed (strange even for off-season). Nevertheless, we located a friendly and more importantly open establishment, wherein I tried fish exclusive to Baikal: 'omul'. Delicious, and stuffed with mushrooms, sweet peppers and all sorts of herbs. Probably one of the best meals of the trip so far! Also took the opportunity to indulge myself a little bit, and went ultra-russian with 'dessert'. I'm not sure it's possible to have more local food than pancakes with caviar! Again, very tasty indeed!

The following day, I had a hefty breakfast laid on by the woman running our hostel- ideal preparation for a day with many activities planned. I'll take this opportunity to post a picture of the view from my window, as I managed to take a picture on my tablet rather than camera for a change! Post-food, took a brief trip to the fish/souvenir market, a few minutes walk from our accommodation. I've started to collect bracelets from each place I've been to. This as you'd imagine can get quite out of hand quite quickly if you're travelling long term... but more on that soon!

Next, I tried dog-sledding. The noise as one approaches the lodge is already deafening, and words really can't do it justice- this is in complete contrast to the sled ride itself- the dogs, once free to run, fell completely silent and this effect was only magnified by the surly, completely averse to conversation-russian man who sat in the front of the sled as I held the reins. Also, I don't think my hands have ever felt as cold as they did during this ride. Bone-chilling never really struck me as an accurate phrase until this day! More Dutch people emerged as we rode- they do get around, the Dutch! 

By this point, you may be wondering about the relevance of the title of this post- I saved the best until last, of course. Banya (banja) is the name of a typical Russian sauna experience, whereby you enter and leave a sauna at regular intervals, drinking tea, jumping in a huge mound of snow outside (in scant clothing!) and being whipped with soaked birch tree branches. It's an exhilarating, bizarre and totally unique experience and I absolutely loved it. No, not in that way. This is in spite of my general and apparently strange dislike for all things hot- jacuzzis, steam rooms and over-hot showers. 

The remainder of my time in Listvyanka pales somewhat in comparison. However, it would be an incredibly poor judgment to neglect mentioning the view from a nearby observation point. While I'm perfectly aware I go to town on the superlatives, another one applies to this experience. Marvellous. Yes, marvellous. I'm living the dream.

A rather long train journey

First impressions of the train weren't phenomenal- however, there was a fair amount of space, lockable berths, hot water and a restaurant carriage. On learning that the conductress was also very pleasant, it seemed that these earlier worries based on the exterior of the train were short of the mark. The situation improved further when we learned that there was noone else in our compartment for the night- we utilised this fact to full effect and invited our neighbours, a certain Dutch couple, over for drinks later that evening. A beer, vodka and instant-noodle-induced haze soon followed...

If falling asleep had proven easier than expected (potentially due to mild intoxication), waking up the following morning* more than rectified this surprise. Having already passed over one time zone of two hours difference, my body clock was struggling to keep up- crossing another time zone ensured this wasn't short term, either! The remainder of my second day aboard consisted of either looking out of the window (snow, snow and more snow), reading Russian literature, or eating. As I soon found out, one can supplement the long-distance train staple of noodles with very sweet bread, processed cheese, instant mash potatoes and pringles. These are almost as tasty as they sound, I assure you.

Another night passed, and another morning brought with it the monumental struggle to rise from bed. At a city named Ekaterinberg (I believe), several of us took advantage of the fact the train had stopped for a little bit longer than usual and hunted down a supermarket- pressed for time, I only managed to pick up the bare essentials: bread, noodles and mashed potato of the instant variety, mountain dew and beer. Priorities are subjective things, you see.
At this point it should be mentioned that while the train is infinitely more spacious than I would have hoped to imagine, personal hygiene is limited to using a sink and wet wipes. All of this is just part of the fun, though! To pass the afternoon I retreated once more to my book, lost to the world until a momentary glance up revealed a teenage girl in the aisle walking a cat on a lead. This country never disappoints in terms of surreal moments, it must be said. Losing track of time completely, my transcontinental companions and I played a few rounds of cards. Exhibiting a great aptitude for crossing time zones once more, I drifted to sleep at around seven a.m. local time.

The following day can be summarised in three components: Firstly, a lengthy trip to the restaurant cart, where I ordered a cheese sandwich. Alas, this complex request proved too much for the beleaguered attendant (who was watching films and occasionally drifting into a light sleep). After quite a wait, I was presented with a single slice of cheese on a single slice of bread. Never order a sandwich in Russia.
Secondly, an awful lot of card games were played, including the epic '10-phase'. If you ever have several hours free, I would recommend it!
Finally, some friendly Russian lawyers, who spoke very little English, invited us in for a drink. Despite great communication difficulties we all had a superb time, courtesy of whiskey, rum and a selection of pictures of our two new friends, the younger of whom appeared to be quite the ladies' man (much to the amusement of his elder companion). These events saw the last night arrive and pass swiftly, and the following morning brought with it arrival in Irkutsk, Siberia. Still running on Moscow time, bleary eyes and mildly hungover, we disembarked.

Trans-siberian stats
Days spent aboard train: 4
Days spent without a shower: 4
Instant noodles/mash potato consumed: 11 packets
Dutch befriended: 2
Books read: 2
Alcohol consumed: unknown
Time zones crossed: 4 (5 hours difference)

*afternoon

More Russian excess, a bit of hockey and Lenin

Obviously, having been struck by the curse of low battery at the most inopportune moment, a return to Red Square was inevitable the following day. This time, however, we went a few steps further and ventured into the Kremlin itself. Within this enormous walled area are numerous chapels at various stages of restoration, as well as the 'armoury', a museum which simply reinforced my impression that Tsars really did have far far too much money and time on their hands. Classic, original suits of armour were impressive enough, but the ceremonial sets and arms were of such flamboyance that if anyone had actually worn them for a battle, they would have been targeted and killed immediately by anyone with even an iota of sense. In summary, this level of opulence is just silly.
Back down to earth with a bang, we dined in a food court (though a lovely shopping centre's food court). Soup was prominent as with many Russian eateries, and thisnwas accomoanied by a chicken kiev and a bizarre starchy couscous hazelnut mixture. Again, all very lovely, but this did little to assuage the irritation I felt when I realised that Lenin's mausoleum was closed for the day. Hence, the following day seemed destined to be rushed! Instead of the planned mausoleum visit, a sobering visit to a gulag museum ensued. No jokes here, just a recommendation that at least once in a lifetime, one needs to experience something along the lines of such a museum.
The evening brought more lighthearted activities as we ventured to a CSKA Moscow ice hockey match. For those who don't know me well, I have a deep-seated love for all things hockey which was instilled in me during my time living in Toronto, Canada. Needless to say, this opportunity got me very excited indeed. The advertising blimp, costume changing cheerleaders and stereotypical hockey food almost had me in a frenzy, especially as the home team waltzed through the opposition. All together, an excellent evening- and I've started a collection of wristbands/bracelets... more on this later!

Determination to see the late great spark of the Bolshevik revolution brought us to Red Square one final time the following day, before the train's departure for the frozen lands of Siberia. To be honest, after all of the hype around Lenin,  I was a bit disappointed. He looked like a waxwork- or indeed, *very* well preserved considering the decades he's been entombed in very public view. Whilst still wondering about this, we didn't actually achieve much wandering- and consequently, a mad dash to and fro to collect bags and get to the train station followed.
Loaded up with supplies for a 4+days journey to Irkutsk, we, the intrepid oz-brit combo, boarded the train with no idea of what to expect...