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...

Long awaited update

Ahoy- as it happens, wi-fi is remarkably hard to come by in certain places. I'm also now in Malaysia, but I'll get to that! For now, I'll return to Russia and continue from where I left off.
Having found the train, I was relatively surprised at how nice our berth was: a comfy 4 bed compartment, admittedly not the most spacious but still better than expected! This journey, between St Petersburg and Moscow, was only scheduled to take about 9 hours overnight- so there wasn't much of an opportunity to get to know the Russian who shared our berth. This was a great shame- even though he spoke stilted English at best, we still got on well and he recommended places to visit in Moscow! A pleasant journey was improved yet further by the train attendant (generally there are one of these per carriage, to distribute linen, keep order and help passengers) who brought free hot drinks to us- coffee before bed didn't turn out to be the most intelligent of choices but I suppose we live and learn!
My first impression of Moscow was dominated by the metro station- spectacular murals eveywhere, it really does live up to its billing. There was a lot of snow as expected on the walk to the hostel, making the journey rather more difficult than I would have liked- but a pleasant surprise greeted me at the hostel: a dorm room pretty much to ourselves, free coffee and decent wi-fi. Ideal!
Taking a lengthy orietation walk, the main difference between here and St Petersburg seems to be the number of onion domes (there are a LOT more here). It's a really beautiful city, and my camera responded to this in appropriate fashion by running out of battery promptly on arrival in Red Square. Sod's law.
Another incident followed which shows my incredible aptitude for bad luck: having found a coin (part of an elaborately superstitious ritual which is meant to bring good luck), I promptly slipped on some beautiful marble detailling on the floor and hurt my leg.
On the other hand, my mood was considerably improved when we (the anglo-ozzie duo, of course) found out we had bagged tickets to ice hockey the following night. Also, we had dinner at a phenomenal georgian place we were recommended after getting awfully, horrifically lost on the way. Luckily (very luckily) a friendly architect not only pointed us in the right direction, but actually walked with us for about twenty minutes. Though I'd imagine it is almost impossible she would ever read this, I am eternally grateful to her!
Bye for now!

A touch of opera, trotsky and the first train

Okay- I'm going to try to get a lot in here...
Another day in St Petersburg had a rather irksome start. Having got up (very) early to find somewhere for breakfast, my new Australian companion and I stumbled only upon a relatively expensive coffee shop. It wasn't bad at all, but on our return we discovered that our hostel provided breakfast free. Superb. Before we left the hostel, it also became apparent our visa information had to be sent to the company sortin our train tickets... just a touch of a kerfuffle.

Anyway, once all of this had been sorted, accompanied by honcho, we headed to the St Peter and Paul fortress. Another rather splendid structure, within which many other buildings are located, this was home to a rather famous prison from the days of yore - wandered past the actual cell in which Trotsky was incarcerated! More interesting bits and pieces followed, including vast amounts of history (all in russian) and a very nice chapel.

Food for the day was varied; I had some very strange hazelnut couscous sort of concoction. It sounds bizarre, and it was bizarre, though not unpleasant especially combined with a kiev! We also ventured to an establishment called 'Stollen', which had some delicious pies.

To top off the day which had already improved immeasurably, opera was on the menu- 'the enchanted wanderer', at the Mariinsky theatre. Cheap, exciting, very odd. All together, definitely an experience to remember!

Alas, the following day started in much the same way as the previous: visiting the printing museum turned out to be a bad move as it was closed. Damn the kooky Russian holidays. However, my honcho used his background to our advantage and we snuck into the Capella music hall to catch a full orchestral rehearsal!

Next on the agenda was souvenir hunting. Whilst generally this was abysmally unsuccessful, I found a russian doll (I can't remember the authentic term, heartfelt apologies) with the faces of Russian presidents and a Yuri Gagarin fridge magnet, which I deemed excellent purchases. It's also definitely worth mentioning my rabbit burger, topped with an egg. Phenomenal stuff, seriously!

All of this seemed a fitting if rushed end to my stay in St Petersburg- and indeed opening to the grand journey which is only just beginning! A suave audi ferried us from our hostel to the train station, adventure beckoning...

A russian monkey and an ak-47 full of vodka

So I'm a little bit behind- wi-fi is proving a bit difficult and there's just a vast amount happening!
Thinking back to my last post and following on directly from that, I still had plenty of time to enjoy St Petersburg- however, my dad had less than a day left, so we decided to indulge in a bit of souvenir-hunting. Very nice indeed. Though we didn't actually find any cheap russian watches or obscure soviet-era music, I now know exactly where to find multitudes of russian dolls, cheap cigarettes and vodka in a bottle shaped like a gun. The brand was kalashnikov, so it wasn't totally bizarre. Amazing is probably the more apt term, and distinctively Russian!
Following said hunting, I took the metro to see my dad back to the airport, and was most disturbed on the way as I was accosted by a man holding what appeared to be a baby. Several Russian words tumbled out of his mouth before I realised this was in fact a monkey in a fur coat. Because, you know, russian logic. We fled just as the monkey's jailor realised we didn't speak the lingo. Probably for the best!
My next action was to hunt for my new hostel. It turns out that when you don't understand Russian alphabet, it's somewhat difficult to navigate on foot. Got there eventually, although it had started snowing really rather heavily. Finally, the weather was starting to resemble what I had expected!
At the hostel, (actually very nice!) I met my first 'honcho': a Russian fellow and an Australian who I'll be taking the trans-siberian with. If you're feeling a touch confused, I should first mention that I booked my train trip through a company because I have no idea whether I'd manage individually. So, at each city I'm in 'til Beijing, I'll have a local 'honcho' who'll help with a bit of orientation and local perspective. This first gentleman took us to a contemporary art museum- while it's not really my thing, I did actually enjoy it- completely unexpectedly. I should expect that by now (paradoxical, no?)
I'll end on the note that it was actually russian orthodox new year that very evening! But apparently religion and vodka don't go together quite as well as Russia and vodka generally, so there was a distinct lack of celebration on my part. Soon, hopefully!
Ciao for now,
Sascha

Odd

I'm currently being kept awake by a snowplough. This is 1am. They do know how to tackle harsh weather here, must be said!

Russian fast food, blue plastic bags and alcoholic translation sorrows

Firstly, apologies- such excitement over the previous few days has led to neglected blogging. I shall recount the weekend in this post, and catch up over a couple of posts.

Saturday saw a staggeringly early start by my standards as my dad and I attempted to flag down a mythical tour bus which navigated the city. Despite the lack of a discernible stop or station, we hit the right place at the right time. Suddenly, and surprisingly, I should mention that Russia appears to have become rather cold - hence, we completely ignored all of the stops and stayed on the bus because of the excellent heating (but mainly the audio guide, obviously). During said ramble, another excellently surreal Russia moment passed us by as a bloke wearing a full tracksuit rode past on a horse. This is in the centre of a major city, on a bridge. Normal rules just don't really apply here.

Anyway, having been on the bus for a fair while, we hopped off at the Aurora. GCSE history nerds will get a touch excited at this point. If you're not one of them, have a little web browse- it's probably the most famous Russian ship of all time and still somehow is yet to be officially decommissioned, meaning the 110 year old ship is still a legitimate member of Russia's navy. Of course. Again, much of the information inside was in Russian but was interesting all the same!

This was followed by a trip to the Russian museum of political history. I like museums, you see. Here, we had to wear blue plastic bags on our feet and the museum café served lemonade which was a radioactive colour and had a label which looked suspiciously like it said 'ammonia'. Whilst drinking this, I was treated to disco music, deeply relevant to the surroundings.

One more highlight of the day- a café which mooed as we walked past proved simply too tempting. A beef stroganoff ensued, which was immensely satisfying. However, this was to be rivalled by an incredible hamburger from an establishment known only as 'killfish', the following afternoon. I don't know either. Russia's answer to burger king was very tasty, to be fair.

Sunday was a bit lazy, in truth. As well as eating, there was some more eating and drinking at kriek, the Belgium sourced beer house, and more than some drinking at a dubious piratical outlet with the excellently-translated name 'aboard attack'. With no Russian menu to hand, I pointed naively at a picture of some beer on a cardboard advertisement. Little was I to know that this advertisement was along the lines of 'buy three large beers, get a bottle free'. I only realised the error of my choice as the waitress brought out a plethora of alcoholic beverages, and so I resolved that there was but one sensible option.

As a truly polite English gentleman, I refused to complain, and drank it all. 7.5% stuff goes to your head quickly, it seems...

Grandeur

Spent most of the day at 'the hermitage' and still barely saw a quarter of what it had to offer by my reckoning. If there's anywhere in the world you could call a shrine to excess, it's this building. Consider the room in which there's a clock made of a golden peacock, cockerel and owl which plays musical harmonies, and isn't even nearly the centrepiece of the building and you might begin to get the idea. You need to experience it, if there's one thing I could recommend from the entire city (Although on a minor point, the owl component of the clock is a bit rubbish, seemed like the designer just got a bit bored). There's also a bit of monet, van gogh, cezanne, and some other arty stuff.

Like I said, the scale is mind boggling.

I'll stop harping on about it now because I have to mention the belgian place we stopped at for dinner. Over 100 varieties of beer, good food and service and HALF-DECENT MUSIC. The significance of this cannot be understated. I had some wonderful beer brewed by monks and some less impressive beer purely because it had pink elephants on the advertisement. Rookie error.

A couple of parting notes: it's starting to get rather cold. Should have seen that one coming. Also, I love the fact no one or vey few people here speak English. It's strangely liberating not to have people instantly flick to your wavelength, even if it does make certain scenarios a little bit more difficult (purchasing toilet paper proves a struggle).

Until next time, dasvidaniya! (I can't do Cyrillic alphabet, a multitude of apologies)

Walking, culture and alcohol

I was a bit tired, so I slept in. During this period, my dad ventured forth to hunt down a supermarket. This he eventually found, amidst heavy rain and skeptical locals... his return was accompanied by another discovery of the odd local traditions. Apparently, all supermarket milk is off (despite being in date). This was confirmed the following day, and henceforth black tea and coffee is the only option.

Anyway, dairy aside, we decided to explore the church of spilled blood. In the absence of immediate photos, google it. Amazing stuff, both outside and in, but a bit of a monument to Russian excess. There's quite a lot of this about, you can almost see why there was a bit of a revolution here a while back...

Happily, this is right next to where we're staying, meaning the national museum is close enough too - our next destination. Another surreal moment presented itself in the museum café, wherein yet more unsuitable western music was playing. Otherwise, relatively little to report from this visit.

However, our trip to a nearby local market was entertaining, despite the lack of vendors braving the heavy rain (seriously? It's Russia!). Apparently, the umpteenth bloke who attempted to sell us russian dolls had been in the army when the American landed a plane in the Red Square during the cold war... His lack of language skills was no barrier to his clear enthusiasm as he regaled his story. While interesting, we didn't buy any dolls, fake medals or neon Russian hats. Poor guy.

Next came a shopping centre visit,  as my dad showed me the fruits of his earlier labour- pre groceries, we stopped in a place I only remember as 'orange'. While the colour was pretty much ubiquitous, it wasn't as bad as you'd expect from a Russian restaurant bearing an English colour for a name in a shopping centre.  Really! Having navigated the language barrier, I had some local wheat beer and venison. Relatively cheap and tasty! The only weird aspect was Jamie Oliver on all of the televisions with Russian dubbing throughout. But ya know, it'd be disappointing without something a touch odd about the evening.

Champansky, or insanely cheap yet decent russian champagne equivalent was then bought as we then made our way back to our accommodation from the flat. It's really rather good!

Final thought- there's some sort of ability Russians possess not just to withstand cold, but shifts from cold to hot and back again.  Genuinely, these people wear enormous winter cloaks on the metro and I'm sat there having stripped to 2 layers (this is an effort), sweating my own body weight! Maybe I'll build up this ability over time...

Russian television

The comedy is terrible and everything else is hilarious. It's opposites-land! There's a show which has the sole premise that fit russian women strip/are stripped apparently by accident just to see what nearby blokes do.  Not that I've been watching it..?
Ha.

St Petersburg: the first step

A mad panic with the night before packing/printing info/sorting music meant that I got less than two hours sleep. I'm sure I'll discover things that I've forgotten in due course, and feel rather silly.

The result of this was me sleeping through my alarm, and almost missing my coach. I spent this ride half-comatose, which did nothing but make me feel more tired. Of course the end result of this was arrival at the airport with plenty of time to spare but an urge to curl up on the nearest baggage trolley. Having met my dad and boarded without major incident, I got a decent amount of sleep and was also presented with what was meant to be a roast dinner. Edible and questionable are two words which probably sum it up the best - but I suppose plane food has never really been haute-cuisine...

Our flight arrived and the first thing I noted was that it appeared we were an hour and a half early- this was to be the first of many Russian mysteries, of which I'm sure there are more to come. Secondly, and almost a bit disappointingly, the city was subject to a heavy drizzle and was only a little bit nippy. Not living up to expectations so far!

One aspect of Russia did not fail to deliver. Having made the decision to attempt to get to our accommodation by public transport, we boarded a mysterious bus. On the surprisingly swift journey, the driver (we assumed from the tone) swore, overtook, undertook, swerved and screeched around like a mad man. This was much more like the Russia I'd heard about!

On the metro, having deciphered Cyrillic alphabet to plan our route (this is going to be a struggle), another thing stood out rather emphatically... everyone here wears shellsuit-style puffer jackets. Yes, it's Russia and winter but it's almost like a uniform! Arsene Wenger would have a field day with his knee-length seasonal attire.

Our accommodation for the next few days is phenomenal, right next to the church of spilled blood. Incredibly central and very spacious, we decided to make use of the fridge space and hunt for a supermarket. In hindsight, we should have used the internet in advance. Hours later, we only had 2 bottles of water and a hunger we decided to sate at 'Meathead', a nearby restaurant. On hearing that name, what would your first thought be? If you thought bizarre, congratulations. The most surreal meal I've ever experienced IN MY LIFE.

Sitting in what appeared to be a converted wine cellar next to a bust of a ram's head surrounded by green baubles, we listened to live and utterly eclectic music selections performed by a russian supermodel-type and a bloke in a suit. Given there were roughly 6 people in the place, this level of effort seemed rather intense. Add to this the ancient black and white slapstick comedy playing on tvs around the restaurant and the extravagant (I had elk ravioli) menu, and you begin to get the picture. Oh, and Norwegian water which cost 7 pounds. Ergh.

So yes, one word sums up my Russian experience thus far: insanity.

P.S. Apologies for the picture shortage. I'll only be able to upload them once in a while due to an sd card compatibility thing. It's not very exciting.

Finally, greetings!

I don't think I can accurately pinpoint when the travel 'bug' infected me- when I was much younger,  my parents would often take me on holidays abroad and I would completely snub the promise of adventure for a good book or video game. I was a bit of a nerd, you see. Undoubtedly part of the old me still remains. But I've learned to appreciate travel a lot more.

The result of this is widening and increasingly ambitious travel plans: since the age of 18, I have travelled extensively in Europe and visited South America for a month. These are merely the beginning, as you find me starting the most spectacular of my voyages yet.

The plan is (not so) simple: beginning at London Heathrow on January 8th, I fly to St Petersburg, Russia- I stay in the city with my dad for a few days, and a short while after his departure I board a train to Moscow, disembarking and taking in the city. Another not so short train ride takes me a fair distance across frozen wastelands to Irkutsk. This is apparently one of the coldest places on earth. Sounds peachy, right?

Back on the train and the first land border looms: Mongolia. Unfortunately, I'm not going to be in the capital city (the superbly named Ulaanbaatar) for long.

Instead, my next train journey takes me across the Chinese border to Beijing. I think I'll need a bit of time in one place at this point, so I've given myself a bit of a cooldown period before I join a gadventures tour first to Xi'an (terracotta army!) then on to Shanghai. Details aside for the moment, here the tour ends and I plan to meet my friend Jim who is teaching in the area for a year. A 'local' to show me round? Stupendous.

From Shanghai, I will be catching a plane to Kathmandu, Nepal. There, I will be volunteering for three weeks, hopefully indulge in a bit of trekking before I get on my flight to Bangkok, in Thailand.

From here on in things get slightly more open ended. I am meeting more friends, and travelling around Laos, Vietnam and Cambodia. I shall let you know more as I go on this part of the trip.

June is my return, and I'll be flying back via Oman, of course(?).

So there we have it,  a very rough outline of my plans. I'll fill in dates and details soon. Also, I may struggle for regular picture updates.  Blogging on the move isn't going quite as smoothly as anticipated!

Oh dear.

Excellent.

It would appear that my saved drafts are not saved at all. This will undoubtedly mean that there will be a delay with getting everything on track. Apologies!