We arrived in Irkutsk at 10.35am, and were met by our driver. We decided to hire a private one as offered by our accomodation, 30euro each. The drive to Olkhon Island was supposed to be anywhere from 4-6 hours, so we figured after a 56 hour train ride we didn't want to be stuck on a stuffy bus for that long. In hindsight it actually delayed us, but added to the experience! He was a lunatic driver, drove erratically, constantly speeding, over-taking on the crest of hills, at some point or another we each had our head in our hands at disbelief at this guys driving, a complete cowboy! He hadn't a word of English. Despite this Dave tried to talk to him to keep him awake as he seemed to be fairly tired! Took 4 hours to get to the ferry port, and when we did we skipped a mile long queue, sweet we thought! However we ended up waiting for 5 hours to get the ferry , so there we sat at the front of the queue for 5 hours and we did what we could only do at that point we sat in the sun and had a few beers. By the end of the 5 hours I saw our driver with one too, afraid to think how many he had! Everytime the ferry came there was revving of engines, shouting , gesticulating wildly, the four of us jumped into the car optimistic that "this is the one!" we did that about ten times.
The view at the ferry dock area was beautiful, lovely cliff edges curved down to the ferry point, on climbing them there was beautiful views over Lake Baikal. After 2 beers I abstained as it meant venturing more times to the public loo, which undoubtedly deserves a mention here, it was the worst loo I have ever experienced, on par with the one in trainspotting for those of you who know it! Except there was no physical loo, a mere hole over which to squat! And not a tree in sight and loads of people around, so we had to brave it! Ugh!
By the time we crossed I'd fallen asleep, only to wake at Nikitas Homestead and see an empty bottle of Stolichnaya on the back seat and three giggly boys. Apparently I missed the hairiest part of the journey, bumpy dirt roads, and excessive speeding drove the lads to drink. How I slept who knows!
Nikitas Homestead was a really cool spot, all wooden log cabins, the whole island is like that but more ornate in Nikitas. 1500 people live on the island, they only got electricity in 2005!!! So the standard of living is fairly basic, it looked very like the villages we passed on the trains. Wooden houses, outhouses, little plumbing. No paved roads. But absolutely amazing scenery. Food was great in Nikitas which made a change. Banyas (sauna/washhouse) are big in Russia, so included in our accomodation costs was 20 minutes free daily in a banya. This was the only way to wash too. After 3 days without a shower I was disappointed to say the least, to find there was no showers in Nikitas!! However Dave and Fitz were staying in a type of homestay, it's where surplus guests of Nikitas stay, and they had a shower, cold mind you but I didn't care after 4 days!!!
We did a bit of a trek one day along the beach, and climbed into the woods, and up towards a viewpoint which was breath-taking. We did plenty of lazing on the beach, not much swimming though. The water in Baikal is particularly cold. I mean being reared on summer holidays to the Atlantic I was sure I'd find it no bother, but the Atlantic isn't a patch on this lake! It's icy cold! 'They' say if you can get you're whole body in and submerged it adds 25 years to your life! So one of the days when we cycled 13km and had worked up a sweat we jumped in, but it was still freezing, a few front strokes and we were running out screaming! The longest amount of time a professional swimmer has spent in it is 30 minutes, and that was part of a relay team swimming from shore to shore. So by no means professional swimmers we got in and flailed around for a bit and made a quick exit. The cycle we did was 26km round trip, exercise much needed all round, but tough terrain on crappy bikes meant it was hard enough. Worth it though, great way to explore the island.
Met some really nice people during our few days. Had a good session one of the nights, guitar came out, 'Russian Girls' got its first public debut, very funny, wasn't sure it was the best spot to be singing it but by the end of it everyone was joining in. Very cosy outdoor bar, all wooden benches and tables. A flame thrower came by one evening when James was playing and performed along to his music, very cool, as it was pitch black at that point. Another night we joined up with a few people we had befriended and made a campfire down on the beach, sat singing, drinking and watching lightning flashes far off in the distance sky. We could hear the thunder way off but waited it out till we felt the first raindrop and then legged it home.
One of the mornings we got up for a yoga class at 8am (yes lads included) pack of amateurs but it was beginner stuff, and our instructor brought us up to a cliff top to do it. I thought it was fantastic, beautiful views over the lake, sun coming up over the mountains on the opposite side, very peaceful and quiet. It was also entertaining watching the lads trying to do some of the stretches, priceless stuff! As Fitz said "first time and probably the last time". Enough said!
It has been the longest we've stayed anywhere so far on the trip and it was worth the journey to and from Irkutsk. Olkhon is an amazing unique spot. I highly recommend it.
We stayed in Irkutsk on the way back, thankfully for just one night. From the moment we arrived none of liked the vibe of the city, people seemed harder, an altogether dodgier spot. It is the AIDS capital of Russia, with a population of 600,000, something like 80,000 of the inner city population have HIV. Drug use being a major cause of this because historically it was a major trade hub in Siberia. Luckily we were all wrecked and just wanted food and to hit the hay. Having found our hostel which had signs up to say "Don't venture out after midnight, it is dangerous" we took their word for it and hit the Subway across the road and back to the hostel to shower and sleep. This involved interrupting the beauty routine of the Chinese women in our hostel who were preening themselves for bed, and were highly offended by us wearing our shoes indoors. The funny thing was as the night went on we were all woken by the snoring from these dainty,petite ladies, their hairy legs hanging over the edges of the bed, it was hilarious, the lads were like meek, little lambs beside them!ha!
However we were also woken by gunshots at one point too. We were very glad to be outta there the next morning.
Wednesday, 30 July 2008
56 hours on a train!!
Departing Yekatering meant setting off on our longest train journey of the trip, a whole 56 hours. The train unfortunately wasn't the nicest rain we've had, not really any AC so it was pretty stuffy, we rotated going to the restaurant car, for air and a break from our cabin, as you can't lock the cabin it means someone needs to man the bags. WE had bought plenty of supplies for the journey, but by the second day we were well and truly sick of noodles, bread and cheese. So we dined in the restaurant car on the second eveing, food wasn't worth the effort. On the first night we stayed up pretty late and recorded our Russian song, called "Russian girls" (not exactly my choice of topic but I'm well and truly outnumbered!) Vodka fuelled, our Moscow guitar in tow, on the Trans-Mongolian train and armed with Dave's video camera seemed like the perfect time to do it!! The finished product to be put up on U-Tube purely for your entertainment!!heehee!
The first morning involved us being awoken by an attendant banging on our door saying yum, yum: Jim's acute sense of the Russian language meant he heard breakfast and swiflty ordered 4 Stroganov's!ugh! The rest of us were panned out with exhaustion and heat and all I remember from the first morning is the smell of 4 stroganov's wafting into our cabin when I first woke. Needless to say I abstained while james munched on his.
The same the second morning, I tried as best I could to order just three, but she wasn't happy with that, and brought me four anyway!
The carraige attendants or provodnitsa as they are called, is a job these people take fierce pride in, and the manner and sense of humour of the carraige attendant varies hugely and so your service. We have met very few Westerners on these trains, mainly Russians, who give us curious looks. But it's great to feel fully immersed in their culture, and not constantly meeting tourists. It means alot of the time not being fully sure of what's going on if there is a commotion of any sort, but we've gotten used to it. It's a bit funny really.
The days pass with reading, snoozing, maybe a beer, writing, listening to music, talking, singing. We passed through diferent time zones yet the clock on the train is on Moscow time, even though we were somewhere between 3 and 5 hours ahead of it at different points along the way, so we ate when hungry and slept when it was dark.
It was 3 nights on the train so by the third night cabin fever was setting in. However even though we were dying to get off by the end, it was a very cool experience to be racing through the Siberian landscape, looking out the window at small villages, jumping off at occasional stations to stretch the legs and breathe fresh air. I really enjoyed it. The landscape was mainly forrests covering flat plains and mountains, largely uninhabited. Sunsets prolonged because we were constantly going east, some beatuiful scenery. The villages we did pass consisted of wooden shacks with galvanied roofs, and no paved roads, just dirt tracks. Some houses having small plots of land with enough vegetables growing for subsistence farming we reckon.
It's insane the difference between the cities and then a few km outside them, particularly in the case of Moscow. The wealth there compared to elsewhere in Russia is ridiculous. I mean basic stuff like plumbing, roads, electricity. Huge pacts of land un-utilised, they import a large % of agricultural produtcs, when they have the potential to supply themselves it seems. Moscow is certainly a sub-economy, while the rest of the country is in catch-up: slowly.
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The first morning involved us being awoken by an attendant banging on our door saying yum, yum: Jim's acute sense of the Russian language meant he heard breakfast and swiflty ordered 4 Stroganov's!ugh! The rest of us were panned out with exhaustion and heat and all I remember from the first morning is the smell of 4 stroganov's wafting into our cabin when I first woke. Needless to say I abstained while james munched on his.
The same the second morning, I tried as best I could to order just three, but she wasn't happy with that, and brought me four anyway!
The carraige attendants or provodnitsa as they are called, is a job these people take fierce pride in, and the manner and sense of humour of the carraige attendant varies hugely and so your service. We have met very few Westerners on these trains, mainly Russians, who give us curious looks. But it's great to feel fully immersed in their culture, and not constantly meeting tourists. It means alot of the time not being fully sure of what's going on if there is a commotion of any sort, but we've gotten used to it. It's a bit funny really.
The days pass with reading, snoozing, maybe a beer, writing, listening to music, talking, singing. We passed through diferent time zones yet the clock on the train is on Moscow time, even though we were somewhere between 3 and 5 hours ahead of it at different points along the way, so we ate when hungry and slept when it was dark.
It was 3 nights on the train so by the third night cabin fever was setting in. However even though we were dying to get off by the end, it was a very cool experience to be racing through the Siberian landscape, looking out the window at small villages, jumping off at occasional stations to stretch the legs and breathe fresh air. I really enjoyed it. The landscape was mainly forrests covering flat plains and mountains, largely uninhabited. Sunsets prolonged because we were constantly going east, some beatuiful scenery. The villages we did pass consisted of wooden shacks with galvanied roofs, and no paved roads, just dirt tracks. Some houses having small plots of land with enough vegetables growing for subsistence farming we reckon.
It's insane the difference between the cities and then a few km outside them, particularly in the case of Moscow. The wealth there compared to elsewhere in Russia is ridiculous. I mean basic stuff like plumbing, roads, electricity. Huge pacts of land un-utilised, they import a large % of agricultural produtcs, when they have the potential to supply themselves it seems. Moscow is certainly a sub-economy, while the rest of the country is in catch-up: slowly.
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Friday, 25 July 2008
Yekaterinburg
Arrived into town quite late, so set off to find the hostel which we eventually came across in a beautifully fitted Stalinist tower block not too far from the city centre. Ballymun got nothin on this joint let me tell you.
However, our host Alexi was a lovely guy who was very helpful and pointed us out towards a bar called the Yellow Submarine along with Sam, an arts student from London, and a Swiss fella called Nico whom we met in the hostel.
Turns out it was the only live venue in the city. The local muso's got themselves excited upon sight of these 'American friends' and launched into a medly of 60's classics and the odd Beatles tune to keep the owners happy. A bassist and then a drummer appeared, dragging a snare and hats out from a side room. Jimbo, only too willing to oblige, got up and played a few songs. 'Frank Flanagan' and 'Diet Coke' got blasted out later on in the evening by Fitz and Dave, marking an Asian debut for those two Groake/Fitzpatrick classics! More vodka, more vodka and even more vodka later, Lord we had to drag poor oul Fitz out of the clutches of the Babuska owner of the place who took an awful shine to him!
Needless to say a less than early rise upon the Tuesday. The day was spent wandering around the city, and ended up in an English bar called Rosy Janes for a few pints.
Yekaterinburg is famous for a number of reasons. The most prominant of these is that it was the scene of the murder of the Romanov's, the last of the Tsars, in 1918. This was seen to be the turning point in Lenin's revolution - a signal of the 'Red Terror' that was to be unleashed on the populace in the years to come. In fact the history attached to this city is again indicative of the absolute paradox that is Russia. When the family were murdered (shot and bayoneted to death in a basement - husband wife and 4 children), the royalist sympathisers were understandably outraged. In an attempt to quell the backlash against the Bolsheviks, a number of top officials were scape-goated and executed.
However a couple of years later, when a party offical named Sverdlovsk died and his personal papers found, it was discovered that he was the true architect of the murder. So the powers that be decided that it was time to celebrate this 'great act of patriotism' by naming the town in his honour. Our train tickets still tell us we are leaving Sverdlovsk, despite the fact that the place was renamed in 1991.
We were interested in going to the Military Museum which has some remnants of the U2 spyplane that Gary Powers crashed near here in the early 60's sparking the Cold War. However it was closed when we got there so we wandered around the corner to the Afghan War memorial. Out in front of the huge statue of a beaten and exhasted soldier, a real life veteran lay shouting and screaming on the pavement. He had no legs, and was rolling around in the dirt, another forgotten sacrifice. A group of youg lads wathced idly, sipping on a few beers and listening to a stereo. I had to leave.
Back to this glorious paradox I mentioned - next we arrived at the 'Cathedral on the Blood' and realised that we had stumbled upon the 90th anniversary of the basement killings I mentioned above. The Orthodox Church has since martyred the Romanovs, and a memorial to them is situated at the front of the Cathedral. A full service was underway inside, which was transmitted to all outdoors by a few p.a. speakers dotted around the perimeter. A couple of hundred mourners/pilgrims paid their respects and kissed relics of the Romanovs and other Saints outside in the sunshine before shuffling into the church. Young and old, priest, monk and layman got on their knees outside, some crying openly. I couldn't help but get the sense that it was so much more than this family that they were mourning, but in fact the generations thereafter who were destroyed by the Soviet State in so many ways.
About 15 minutes walk from this very scene, a giant statue of Lenin still stands on the main square, Ploschad 1905, pointing out along the highway that was once such a vital link along the road into Siberia. History is indeed a funny thing.
Before we got onto the train to Irkutsk, we had a few hours to kill and decided to get a taxi out to the Europe-Asia border. After what seemed like an age, ourtaxi driver finally decided that he was lost. We demanded he bring us back to Yekaterinburg, since departure time was getting closer and we couldnt afford to miss our train. He swung back but managed to find the obelisk that marks the spot after a few minutes. We hopped out and took a few photos and video footage, got back to the hostel and set off for the station.
However, our host Alexi was a lovely guy who was very helpful and pointed us out towards a bar called the Yellow Submarine along with Sam, an arts student from London, and a Swiss fella called Nico whom we met in the hostel.
Turns out it was the only live venue in the city. The local muso's got themselves excited upon sight of these 'American friends' and launched into a medly of 60's classics and the odd Beatles tune to keep the owners happy. A bassist and then a drummer appeared, dragging a snare and hats out from a side room. Jimbo, only too willing to oblige, got up and played a few songs. 'Frank Flanagan' and 'Diet Coke' got blasted out later on in the evening by Fitz and Dave, marking an Asian debut for those two Groake/Fitzpatrick classics! More vodka, more vodka and even more vodka later, Lord we had to drag poor oul Fitz out of the clutches of the Babuska owner of the place who took an awful shine to him!
Needless to say a less than early rise upon the Tuesday. The day was spent wandering around the city, and ended up in an English bar called Rosy Janes for a few pints.
Yekaterinburg is famous for a number of reasons. The most prominant of these is that it was the scene of the murder of the Romanov's, the last of the Tsars, in 1918. This was seen to be the turning point in Lenin's revolution - a signal of the 'Red Terror' that was to be unleashed on the populace in the years to come. In fact the history attached to this city is again indicative of the absolute paradox that is Russia. When the family were murdered (shot and bayoneted to death in a basement - husband wife and 4 children), the royalist sympathisers were understandably outraged. In an attempt to quell the backlash against the Bolsheviks, a number of top officials were scape-goated and executed.
However a couple of years later, when a party offical named Sverdlovsk died and his personal papers found, it was discovered that he was the true architect of the murder. So the powers that be decided that it was time to celebrate this 'great act of patriotism' by naming the town in his honour. Our train tickets still tell us we are leaving Sverdlovsk, despite the fact that the place was renamed in 1991.
We were interested in going to the Military Museum which has some remnants of the U2 spyplane that Gary Powers crashed near here in the early 60's sparking the Cold War. However it was closed when we got there so we wandered around the corner to the Afghan War memorial. Out in front of the huge statue of a beaten and exhasted soldier, a real life veteran lay shouting and screaming on the pavement. He had no legs, and was rolling around in the dirt, another forgotten sacrifice. A group of youg lads wathced idly, sipping on a few beers and listening to a stereo. I had to leave.
Back to this glorious paradox I mentioned - next we arrived at the 'Cathedral on the Blood' and realised that we had stumbled upon the 90th anniversary of the basement killings I mentioned above. The Orthodox Church has since martyred the Romanovs, and a memorial to them is situated at the front of the Cathedral. A full service was underway inside, which was transmitted to all outdoors by a few p.a. speakers dotted around the perimeter. A couple of hundred mourners/pilgrims paid their respects and kissed relics of the Romanovs and other Saints outside in the sunshine before shuffling into the church. Young and old, priest, monk and layman got on their knees outside, some crying openly. I couldn't help but get the sense that it was so much more than this family that they were mourning, but in fact the generations thereafter who were destroyed by the Soviet State in so many ways.
About 15 minutes walk from this very scene, a giant statue of Lenin still stands on the main square, Ploschad 1905, pointing out along the highway that was once such a vital link along the road into Siberia. History is indeed a funny thing.
Before we got onto the train to Irkutsk, we had a few hours to kill and decided to get a taxi out to the Europe-Asia border. After what seemed like an age, ourtaxi driver finally decided that he was lost. We demanded he bring us back to Yekaterinburg, since departure time was getting closer and we couldnt afford to miss our train. He swung back but managed to find the obelisk that marks the spot after a few minutes. We hopped out and took a few photos and video footage, got back to the hostel and set off for the station.
Tuesday, 15 July 2008
Nihzny Novgorod
Nihzny Novgorod was a restricted town till 1991, so even Russians needed visas to enter. It was used back in Soviet times to internally exile people. So you can imagine we were fairly off the beaten track. No hostels , hotels overpriced so we had arranged to sleep over the offices of team Gorky, after the taxi got us there and we met Vladmir and some other guy, all our anxieties were instantly allayed, bar one split second when Vladmir opened his boot for us to put our bags in, our eyes fell on a saw and axe in the boot. Being the outdoor type it made sense, but for us standing in a strange city, on a street of dodgy run down buildings, at midnight, about to hop into a car with a guy with an axe in his boot it screamed insanity. We all looked at each other and burst out laughing, Vladmir for a split second didn't understand and he had minimal English, but when he copped on he started laughing too. It was a ridiculous moment, one I won't forget. So we drove up the street a couple of hundred meters, and he brought us into a 'hotel', down an alley way, not a hostel not a hotel by our standards. It was eery, an old Soviet style hotel we think. It was empty bar us, the restaurant was set but yet they served no food, a large snooker table was covered on the first floor, the corridors were long and dark. The decor so dated, ceilings looked like they would collapse. Our room consisted of two twin rooms, with shared toilet and shower, in the toliet was a picture of Arnold Schwarnegger! on the wall beside the loo! Bizaare. We reckon it probaly housed soliders at one point and now in disuse bar us! Definitely the strangest place I've stayed in. I pondered as to why they took us up to the first floor, and all the way down the corridor to the last room? Dave informed me it was so no one would hear when they killed us!!! It was perfect setting to do our Blair Witch sketch! The type of place that horror movies are filmed in!ha!
Wednesday we spent in the city, again Vlad dropped us into town , showed us the bus stop to catch our bus, told us what number, how much, wrote down our stop to show to the bus driver. Again his generosity was phenomenal. He had very little English and possibly slightly bemused that we were going on this rafting weekend with no Russian! Should be interesting!
Not much to Nihzny Novgorod, we wandered the main street, took in the view of the Volga, spent ages finding somewhere to eat. Jesus the food here is atrocious, it's been very hit and miss. Generally stodgy, greasy, meaty. they don't do veg or fruit, any we found has tasted crap. I'd love an M&S Jazz apple!!! Jaysus!
We found somewhere eventually and had a few beers. Braved the bus journey back, really old style buses, and they drive the crap out of them.
Back to our Soviet abode, and Arnie - sweet dreams.
Friday morning - we arrived down at team Gorky offices, shortly before 10am. Lots of families and young couples standing around the buses. Wasn't long before we realised our guides didn't speak English, nobody seemed to, anyone who did wasn't coming on the weekend trip - perfect! We got on the bus same as the public ones and away we went giggling to ourselves. It was two and a half hour journey to the river and the last half hour was insane, we were driving through forest terrain, we thought the bus was gonna topple several times. If it was Ireland health and safety would be all over it. Parents with young kids , no seat belts! The bus driver smoking away , on the phone playing load music, madness! We pulled up at the river front and were instantly bombarded with mosquitoes! Once we were covered with insect repellant and suncream we had some lunch, packed up our stuff into dry bags, and boarded our raft. So they are essentially bib 8man inflatable life boats. The river was so calm, so we did a lot of paddling over the weekend. Mica was our team Gorky guide, he a little english. Sergei was our leader, he had some English too, this was all very reassuring.
The general agenda of the weekend was raft (35km in total over 3 days), stop off at beaches on the river front as you wish, take a refreshing dip. Back on the boat raft again, and wherever sergei decided to stop for food, all the rafts pulled in, and the guides all unloaded the cargo raft and prepared lunch/ dinner. The food was great; lots of salads, fresh fruit salads, soup, pasta, tea coffee, desserts, all included in the price. Sergei as it turned out was an absolute legend, this guy could cook, raft, chop wood, start fires, play guitar, sing and speak English - ha! A bit of a rarity as we are learning. Oh and he can erect a tent in two minutes. Everything is provided - tents, sleeping bags, ground mats the lot. It was a great few days. The weather was smashing. It seems everyone comes with friends or family or work colleagues, floats along having picnics on their rafts, drinking vodka. When people realised we weren't Russian, they were intrigued, would grab hold of our raft and share vodka and food with us. We were completely unprepared had no booze with us!! So we were at the mercy of their generosity!
At night Sergei sang Russian songs at the campfire. Apparently he played Soviet Marches in a blues style, so there was lots of laughing going on, and as time went by more Russians who spoke English emerged, and filled in the gaps for us. The first night we camped in a forest and the second night we camped on the beach. The river was so clean you could drink the water, and the beaches beautiful. It was idyllic. We got eaten by the mosys though. It was real camping, and the river was full of people doing it.
It was super to be so immersed in Russian culture, and language. They were intrigued as to why we were there at all. it was great to meet Russian people and properly experience what they do, and how they socialise.
Sunday night - got the night train to Yekaterinburg. Took 20 hours. Plenty of sleep, vodka drinking (to make up for our dry weekend) and chilling out meant the time flew by. Very comfortable way to travel.
Wednesday we spent in the city, again Vlad dropped us into town , showed us the bus stop to catch our bus, told us what number, how much, wrote down our stop to show to the bus driver. Again his generosity was phenomenal. He had very little English and possibly slightly bemused that we were going on this rafting weekend with no Russian! Should be interesting!
Not much to Nihzny Novgorod, we wandered the main street, took in the view of the Volga, spent ages finding somewhere to eat. Jesus the food here is atrocious, it's been very hit and miss. Generally stodgy, greasy, meaty. they don't do veg or fruit, any we found has tasted crap. I'd love an M&S Jazz apple!!! Jaysus!
We found somewhere eventually and had a few beers. Braved the bus journey back, really old style buses, and they drive the crap out of them.
Back to our Soviet abode, and Arnie - sweet dreams.
Friday morning - we arrived down at team Gorky offices, shortly before 10am. Lots of families and young couples standing around the buses. Wasn't long before we realised our guides didn't speak English, nobody seemed to, anyone who did wasn't coming on the weekend trip - perfect! We got on the bus same as the public ones and away we went giggling to ourselves. It was two and a half hour journey to the river and the last half hour was insane, we were driving through forest terrain, we thought the bus was gonna topple several times. If it was Ireland health and safety would be all over it. Parents with young kids , no seat belts! The bus driver smoking away , on the phone playing load music, madness! We pulled up at the river front and were instantly bombarded with mosquitoes! Once we were covered with insect repellant and suncream we had some lunch, packed up our stuff into dry bags, and boarded our raft. So they are essentially bib 8man inflatable life boats. The river was so calm, so we did a lot of paddling over the weekend. Mica was our team Gorky guide, he a little english. Sergei was our leader, he had some English too, this was all very reassuring.
The general agenda of the weekend was raft (35km in total over 3 days), stop off at beaches on the river front as you wish, take a refreshing dip. Back on the boat raft again, and wherever sergei decided to stop for food, all the rafts pulled in, and the guides all unloaded the cargo raft and prepared lunch/ dinner. The food was great; lots of salads, fresh fruit salads, soup, pasta, tea coffee, desserts, all included in the price. Sergei as it turned out was an absolute legend, this guy could cook, raft, chop wood, start fires, play guitar, sing and speak English - ha! A bit of a rarity as we are learning. Oh and he can erect a tent in two minutes. Everything is provided - tents, sleeping bags, ground mats the lot. It was a great few days. The weather was smashing. It seems everyone comes with friends or family or work colleagues, floats along having picnics on their rafts, drinking vodka. When people realised we weren't Russian, they were intrigued, would grab hold of our raft and share vodka and food with us. We were completely unprepared had no booze with us!! So we were at the mercy of their generosity!
At night Sergei sang Russian songs at the campfire. Apparently he played Soviet Marches in a blues style, so there was lots of laughing going on, and as time went by more Russians who spoke English emerged, and filled in the gaps for us. The first night we camped in a forest and the second night we camped on the beach. The river was so clean you could drink the water, and the beaches beautiful. It was idyllic. We got eaten by the mosys though. It was real camping, and the river was full of people doing it.
It was super to be so immersed in Russian culture, and language. They were intrigued as to why we were there at all. it was great to meet Russian people and properly experience what they do, and how they socialise.
Sunday night - got the night train to Yekaterinburg. Took 20 hours. Plenty of sleep, vodka drinking (to make up for our dry weekend) and chilling out meant the time flew by. Very comfortable way to travel.
St P - Moscow - Nizhny Novgorod
Where do I begin..its been a fairly eventful few days!
St. Petersburg is a beautiful spot, well worth a visit. They call it the Northern Venice because of its winding canal structure (built by Peter the Great for purely aesthetic purposes). Its the architectural and cultural hub of Russia, and having since seen a few serious kips of cities on the way down to Ekaterinburg you can see why they make such a big deal about it.
We took in the Peter Hoff (Peter and Pauls Fortress), and saw newlyweds go through their various post nuptial traditions along the banks of the Neva. A scratch brass band warbled through the Wedding March every time a new procession passed, champagne was popped amid much cheering and dancing, and an oul fella in a navy uniform fired off little weighted parachutes out over the river from a cannon. We watched all this from a cafe over a few beers.
At midnight we took a boat tour of the city that brough us through the canals and out onto the Neva which was bustling with activity. The bridges rise every night for a few hours to allow the commercial traffic through - pretty impressive sight! The lads went out to some place called Mod and had a great night with some friendly Russian ladies. nuff said (; Myself and Sarah decided to have an 'early' one and crwled into the leaba's at about 3am.
On Sunday we managed to get a few hours in the Hermitage, which has a ridiculously big collection of fine art. The Winter Palace in which this collection is housed was built for this sole purpose by Catherine the Great - the place is just enormous. Full of pressies to the royal family - ridiculous. We had arranged tickets for Swan Lake at the Mariinsky so we headed down there for about 7pm. Its an amazing theatre and while it was pretty stuffy (and 3 1/2 hours long!) we all enjoyed the performance. A couple of swift voddies at the interval certainly helped!
Afterwards we had a few pints in the Shamrock, (our first Irish bar of the trip so far). We got chatting to a fella who was fairly obviously a dancer (he was bounding around the bar doing plie's and ballerina twirls like no mans business). Anyway, it turns out that he was playing one of the main roles in the performance that night - and he is one of the most renowned dancers in the world. http://www.mariinsky.ru/en/company/ballet/first_soloists/dancers2/kuznetsov/.
So we toasted the night away with Ilya, and casually slagged him about his choice of profession until he insisted that we all feel his muscles. By Jaysus, lets just say he'd probably beat me in a press-up competition! Add to the mix a German journalist and a flautist - Nicolai (who again, apparently is world class and was deleriously excited about the fact that we knew who James 'Jimmy' Galway is because he made an album with him). At one stage he told me that he had spent two years in Venice just learning a particular breathing technique!
So we had by now made best friends with the lads, who were really keen to show us that particular variety of St Petersburg night life that their inflated budgets allow. A fleet of Lada's was summoned and we tore off to Nicolai's 'private club', which was a glorified brothel, and drank and ate cheeseboards to our hearts content under the watchful eye of a few bored strippers. Fair play to Nicolai though, he really knows how to host a party, and we were delighted to have met him and shared his company for a few hours.
So the four of us said our goodbyes to Ruairi last Monday night and hopped on the night train back to Moscow. As he said himself, it just won't be the same without him! Moscow again, in the blistering heat. Queued for about half an hour to see Lenin's waxy corpse which is housed in a mausoleum outside the walls of the Kremlin. It's a fairly eerie experience - when your eyes eventually adjust to the light the grim faced guards come into view. These fellas enforce a strict code of no talking, no camera's, no bags, and definitely no Paddy Bolshevik jokes. After lunch we bought a guitar in a music shop behind the Bolshoi and walked back to the hostel for some well deserved kip.
So on Wednesday we were scheduled to leave eastwards by rail. I was glad to be leaving the major cities at this stage. While they are both impressive in their own rights, I wanted to see what life was like outside the bug hubs. As the train trundled out of Moskva towards Nizhny Novgorod we all commented that this was the real start of the Trans-Mongolian. It was a great feeling to start such a huge journey, and really have feck all idea of what lay ahead for us. We arrived in Nizhny at about 7pm, and Sarah haggled (as only she can) a taxi driver to bring us to the Team Gorky offices. We had arranged a weekend rafting expedition with this crowd, who organise excursions into the wild all over the world from Nizhny. After a fairly hairy trip (the roads are shocking over here and a common pass time seems to be speeding up into pot-holed corners and throwing the car through the oncoming obstacle course for the laugh) we found the offices, and Vladimir showed us to our digs for the night.
St. Petersburg is a beautiful spot, well worth a visit. They call it the Northern Venice because of its winding canal structure (built by Peter the Great for purely aesthetic purposes). Its the architectural and cultural hub of Russia, and having since seen a few serious kips of cities on the way down to Ekaterinburg you can see why they make such a big deal about it.
We took in the Peter Hoff (Peter and Pauls Fortress), and saw newlyweds go through their various post nuptial traditions along the banks of the Neva. A scratch brass band warbled through the Wedding March every time a new procession passed, champagne was popped amid much cheering and dancing, and an oul fella in a navy uniform fired off little weighted parachutes out over the river from a cannon. We watched all this from a cafe over a few beers.
At midnight we took a boat tour of the city that brough us through the canals and out onto the Neva which was bustling with activity. The bridges rise every night for a few hours to allow the commercial traffic through - pretty impressive sight! The lads went out to some place called Mod and had a great night with some friendly Russian ladies. nuff said (; Myself and Sarah decided to have an 'early' one and crwled into the leaba's at about 3am.
On Sunday we managed to get a few hours in the Hermitage, which has a ridiculously big collection of fine art. The Winter Palace in which this collection is housed was built for this sole purpose by Catherine the Great - the place is just enormous. Full of pressies to the royal family - ridiculous. We had arranged tickets for Swan Lake at the Mariinsky so we headed down there for about 7pm. Its an amazing theatre and while it was pretty stuffy (and 3 1/2 hours long!) we all enjoyed the performance. A couple of swift voddies at the interval certainly helped!
Afterwards we had a few pints in the Shamrock, (our first Irish bar of the trip so far). We got chatting to a fella who was fairly obviously a dancer (he was bounding around the bar doing plie's and ballerina twirls like no mans business). Anyway, it turns out that he was playing one of the main roles in the performance that night - and he is one of the most renowned dancers in the world. http://www.mariinsky.ru/en/company/ballet/first_soloists/dancers2/kuznetsov/.
So we toasted the night away with Ilya, and casually slagged him about his choice of profession until he insisted that we all feel his muscles. By Jaysus, lets just say he'd probably beat me in a press-up competition! Add to the mix a German journalist and a flautist - Nicolai (who again, apparently is world class and was deleriously excited about the fact that we knew who James 'Jimmy' Galway is because he made an album with him). At one stage he told me that he had spent two years in Venice just learning a particular breathing technique!
So we had by now made best friends with the lads, who were really keen to show us that particular variety of St Petersburg night life that their inflated budgets allow. A fleet of Lada's was summoned and we tore off to Nicolai's 'private club', which was a glorified brothel, and drank and ate cheeseboards to our hearts content under the watchful eye of a few bored strippers. Fair play to Nicolai though, he really knows how to host a party, and we were delighted to have met him and shared his company for a few hours.
So the four of us said our goodbyes to Ruairi last Monday night and hopped on the night train back to Moscow. As he said himself, it just won't be the same without him! Moscow again, in the blistering heat. Queued for about half an hour to see Lenin's waxy corpse which is housed in a mausoleum outside the walls of the Kremlin. It's a fairly eerie experience - when your eyes eventually adjust to the light the grim faced guards come into view. These fellas enforce a strict code of no talking, no camera's, no bags, and definitely no Paddy Bolshevik jokes. After lunch we bought a guitar in a music shop behind the Bolshoi and walked back to the hostel for some well deserved kip.
So on Wednesday we were scheduled to leave eastwards by rail. I was glad to be leaving the major cities at this stage. While they are both impressive in their own rights, I wanted to see what life was like outside the bug hubs. As the train trundled out of Moskva towards Nizhny Novgorod we all commented that this was the real start of the Trans-Mongolian. It was a great feeling to start such a huge journey, and really have feck all idea of what lay ahead for us. We arrived in Nizhny at about 7pm, and Sarah haggled (as only she can) a taxi driver to bring us to the Team Gorky offices. We had arranged a weekend rafting expedition with this crowd, who organise excursions into the wild all over the world from Nizhny. After a fairly hairy trip (the roads are shocking over here and a common pass time seems to be speeding up into pot-holed corners and throwing the car through the oncoming obstacle course for the laugh) we found the offices, and Vladimir showed us to our digs for the night.
Friday, 4 July 2008
dublin - moscow -st. petersburg
Hi All,
Well this is just a short note to get this thing up and running, myslef and Sarah will try to keep it up to date on our travels. We're in a hostel in St Petersburg, having arrived this morning on the night train from Moscow. The train journey was very comfortable, carriages really ornate. Fairly hot in ours in the station in Moscow until we got moving - its going to be an oven across Siberia at this time of the year but sure we'll deal with it! Had a few screwdrivers en route to take the edge off, and salmon caviar to boot - pretty tasty!
Moscow was a great laugh. We weren't sure what to expect of the place having heard a few scare stories. In fact we had more hassle from drunken Latvians in Dublin airport on Sunday night than we've had anywhere else - the Moscovites we came across were very friendly and willing to help us find where we needed to go. One lady even wanted to come with us and walk us through the metro system. A lot of it has to do with practising their English. We met George, a Freddy Mercury lookalike from St Petersburg who is a resident in Napoleon hostel and an English teacher. He invited us to partake in an 'English Club' he has set up as part of his contract work with big multinationals in Moscow, which we did on Wednesday night. Had a great chat over a few beers with his students , who ranged from two young engineers who work for Samsung to a middle aged woman from central Siberia who had great English already and described herself as an executive political advisor to 'the party'. Savage craic!
Good bunch in the hostel. Spanish couple making a documentary about the Gulags, a mad Argentinian who we called 'call me Al' coz he's the image of Al Pacino circa 'Scarface' -- ''say cchello to mai liddle frend'' Brilliant.
Thats only the half of it but sure if I spent all day writing it down I've no time to actually go out and do it.
Nostrovia!
Well this is just a short note to get this thing up and running, myslef and Sarah will try to keep it up to date on our travels. We're in a hostel in St Petersburg, having arrived this morning on the night train from Moscow. The train journey was very comfortable, carriages really ornate. Fairly hot in ours in the station in Moscow until we got moving - its going to be an oven across Siberia at this time of the year but sure we'll deal with it! Had a few screwdrivers en route to take the edge off, and salmon caviar to boot - pretty tasty!
Moscow was a great laugh. We weren't sure what to expect of the place having heard a few scare stories. In fact we had more hassle from drunken Latvians in Dublin airport on Sunday night than we've had anywhere else - the Moscovites we came across were very friendly and willing to help us find where we needed to go. One lady even wanted to come with us and walk us through the metro system. A lot of it has to do with practising their English. We met George, a Freddy Mercury lookalike from St Petersburg who is a resident in Napoleon hostel and an English teacher. He invited us to partake in an 'English Club' he has set up as part of his contract work with big multinationals in Moscow, which we did on Wednesday night. Had a great chat over a few beers with his students , who ranged from two young engineers who work for Samsung to a middle aged woman from central Siberia who had great English already and described herself as an executive political advisor to 'the party'. Savage craic!
Good bunch in the hostel. Spanish couple making a documentary about the Gulags, a mad Argentinian who we called 'call me Al' coz he's the image of Al Pacino circa 'Scarface' -- ''say cchello to mai liddle frend'' Brilliant.
Thats only the half of it but sure if I spent all day writing it down I've no time to actually go out and do it.
Nostrovia!
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