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...