To the Dogs or Whoever

DSC00893, originally uploaded by Louise and Luke.

Lake Baikal is not, apparently, the biggest lake in the world but it is certainly the biggest lake I’ve ever seen. This is not surprising as the lake is three times the length of Wales.

Surrounded by forest and snowed toped hills, the whole area is incredibly beautiful and scenic. The lake water is amazingly clear, and unusually clean for Russian water. A sign in the village informed us this is because the Russian government limits how much pollution is allowed to be pumped into the lake. Although, considering the lake water supplies all of the tap water in the area, unfiltered, and holds 20% of the worlds fresh water I would personally have preferred that they just didn’t pollute it at all…

We stayed just up the road from the village of Litvyanka in Krestovka valley, a tiny hamlet made up of traditional Siberian wooden houses, right on the lake. Being afraid of stray dogs, Luke was delighted to discover upon arrival that Krestovka is some kind of dog haven. Being the region’s centre for dog sledding every house seemed to have at least one dog and every road and path had at least one stray dog wandering about. At night all you could hear for miles around was the sound of barking and howling. I was just glad that I would never have to doorknock this area.

Aside from the dogs Lake Baikal was very peaceful. The guide book warned us that there wasn’t much in Litvyanka, and it was true to its word. Besides the port the highlight was a post office which didn’t sell stamps, but did – intriguingly - sell three types of tinned spam. However, far from being disappointing, our Siberian retreat was the perfect place to finish our Russian experience.

And one experience you can’t leave Russia without is a Russian banya. Similar to a Swedish sauna, except that after sitting in the sauna for 10 minutes or so you thrash each other with birch sticks and jump in an ice cold pool. We had a traditional banya in a wooden log cabin, at the lovely Terama just opposite where we were staying. It was here that we also had delicious Omul, the famous Baikal fish, which only exists in Lake Baikal.

Despite the glorious sunny weather it was still around -10C in Listvyanka, so we didn’t swim in the lake, which is supposed to bring you good health. We did however spend many hours enjoying the scenery which was unbelievably stunning. The hour trek up to the viewing point, above the Baikal Hotel and the view was worth every second. Our amateur photography does not do it justice, but feel free to take a look on Flickr anyway. Next stop Irkutsk - again.

Louise and Luke

xx

(Posted by Louise)

Remember you're a Womble

As well (possibly most famously) being one of these, Tomsk is also a quietly splendid Siberian university town, and proved to be a rather splendid place to while away a few days as we snaked our way across Russia on our great Trans-Mongolian train adventure. After the European feel of St. Petersburg, and the madness that was Moscow, Tomsk gave us a great chance to relax a little, while also providing a peek at what Russian life is like in a town away from main tourist-train drag.

Possibly the most memorable moment of our entire stay in Tomsk occurred a few hours after we arrived. We were sat in the living room of the flat we'd rented in a Soviet-style apartment block, taking in the full weirdness of what would be our home for the next week, when Nadia (whose flat it was) burst in from an adjoining room and loudly asked me, apropos of nothing, "Hey! Do you like sex?" I was - most unusually - utterly lost for words, as was Louise who simply stared at me dumbfounded. There had been no mention of this on the website. We were saved from what might well have been the most bizarre menage a trois ever when Nadia asked me again, this time with helpful hand signals, if I liked "sax... you know, Kenny G?" In ordinary circumstances, I like the curly-permed king of cod jazz as much as rampant toothache, but at the moment in time, I was his biggest fan, and never more delighted to hear his flaccid riffs.

While we never quite reached these dizzying heights of excitement for the rest of week there, we had a fab time nonetheless. The architecture really was amazing, the people welcoming and warm, the parks and public gardens a wonderful place to stroll, chat and soak up Russia, and their obligatory Lenin statue was a real corker. We spent whole days just meandering through the backstreets of wooden houses, across rivers and up wooden viewing towers, all the while feeling very, very Russian. It was in Tomsk that we started living on our ten quid a day budget, finding ever moire creative meals to cook with tomatoes, Russian bread, eggs and noodles. We also grew very fond of some Russian biscuits, until we (thought we) realised that they were made with liver, but that's another story.

And all too soon, our week in Tomsk (which we thought might have been too long a stop to begin with) was nearly over. We celebrated by going out for a slap-up meal, complete with dirt cheap Russian Champagne (that really is what it said on the label). Lou looked gorgeous, and the night was made perfect when the piss-poor 'artiste' who had been singing to us in Russian all night delivered a truly hilarious version of "I Just Called to Say I Love You" in English. As we walked home, snow began to fall around us in a picture-postcard fashion, dusting the benches and lampposts in a way that you normally only see in movies.

And that was it. The next morning, the lovely Nadia walked us - again in the snow - back to the bus station, telling us along the way of her fascinating life as a lecturer and economic adviser to Russia's national bank, before hugging us goodbye. Another great stop in Russia, another fantastic Russian host. We had, against the odds, started to feel at home in this vast place.

Stay Warm,

Luke and Louise

(Posted by Luke)

Back in the USSR

Well, I had to use it at some point, am just surprised it took so long.

Apologies for relative silence - we've been wonderfully web-free for a week!

We have less than a day to go in Russia, as we depart for Mongolia early tomorrow morning. When we've arrived at the hotel, having avoided the bag slashers and pickpockets at the train station, we'll both let you know how Tomsk was (in great detail, Matt), why Olga is so lovely, how spectacular Lake Baikal is, how seedy - or otherwise - Irkutsk might be, and why Russians prefer their dogs running free.

'Til then, stay warm,

Luke and Louise

(Posted by Luke)

Across the Great Divide

One of our best mates from home, Sue Macmillan, is Queen of the Interweb for the lovely Labour Party. She commented in a recent email - in a way that only Sue could - that posts on this blog could, just maybe, be a little long. I'm sure that you will be as shocked as I was at the very suggestion that I could ever be long winded, talk too much, or use one five words when one would do. However, after some thought, I reckon she might have a point. So here goes - leaner, meaner and... er... shorter.

After the crazy, sometimes scary, but never boring fun and games in Moscow, we headed on the first leg of our Trans Mongolian trip from the capital to Novosibirsk, our jumping off point for Tomsk. We shared our four-berth sleeper with a lovely Russian man and woman (work friends, they were keen to stress, not partners, though Lou and I agreed they were clearly soft on each other), who were kind to us in every way. The journey itself was everything I had hoped it would be, and then some. The bunks - me on top, Lou below - were comfortable, and the carriages warm and cosy. The fabled 'samovar' kept us all in coffee, noodles and instant mashed potato, while the hawkers that roamed every platform stop sold everythingfrom smoked fish to giant cuddly toys. We played the occasional game of cards and chess, and read from time to time, but the gentle rock of the train really does lull you into a gentle peace somewhere in between sleep and waking, as Siberian forests roll by, morphing into farmland then back again. Wonderful.

When we arrived in Novosibirsk, the stop from which we were to travel on to Tomsk, we had no accommodation booked and it was 1.30am. Our very sweet Russian friend got dressed and led us from the train to the station hotel (another example of unexpected kindness), but as he walked away back to the train, it became apparent that we would not be spending the night there, as all the rooms were full. So, overcome with strange bravery - and desire not to look like a big wimp in front of Lou - we cwtched together in the grand Soviet waiting room, next to a group of Mongolian Labourers and a man who had taken off both his false legs to sleep. Really.

Five hours later, we found our way to a rickety minibus and set of on a very bumpy three hour ride to Tomsk, the fantastic, relaxed and very beautiful University town where we would spend the next six days, in a very weird and very Soviet apartment. More of which next time, which could be a while, as we set off for Irkutsk - and Lake Baikal - at 10.30pm tomorrow, and I have no idea when I'll be able to blog next. Which should please Sue no end...

Stay warm,

Luke and Louise

(Posted by Luke)

The post about Moscow (that doesn't use a song title just to annoy Luke)

DSC00520, originally uploaded by Louise and Luke.

We had been warned by several people that whilst St Petersburg is a very European city, Moscow would be a big culture shock. It is known for being a very big, very impressive, very busy and very unfriendly city. On most levels, it didn't disappoint.

We took the overnight train from St Petersburg and arrived into Leninskaya station in Moscow at 7:30am, the start of rush hour. As we walked out of the station in the rain, past what Luke would no doubt describe as 'vagrants and criminals' asking us for money, and into a heaving underground station full of unfriendly commuters (approximately 10 million people go through the metro in Moscow before 10am everyday), far from feeling the culture shock I was reminded of London. It was at this point I realised that to go on the underground in London in rush hour carrying half your own weight in a rucksack whilst not being able to speak any English or read a tube map or have any idea where your going would be a very stupid thing to do.

We did manage to get out of the metro station (having taken only three or four wrong trains) and get to our youth hostel - Napolean Hostel - with surprising ease. Luke however seemed panicked by the whole experience, looking around I realised that most of the roads in Moscow have more lanes than the M4 (for anyone not from Wales that is the largest road in Wales), all the buildings are massive and there are police on every corner. I tried to comfort Luke by taking him for breakfast in what ended up being our favourite cafe in Moscow, Moo Moo (or My My in Russian), where we vowed to learn a few more words in Russian after breakfasting on sweet pancakes with chicken. The coffee was great, though.

After breakfast we walked down to Red Square in the centre of Moscow, which is as colourful and vast as you would imagine, and being there made all the hassle of the metro worth it. At one end stands the renowned and fantastically colourful St Basil's Cathedral. To the left of the cathedral running all the way along the west side is the red wall of the Kremlin. About half way down is the heavily guarded, soviet style Lenin's Mausoleum. Running along the opposite side of the square is a very elaborate shopping centre, GUM. Twenty years ago this was the state department store, but has now been transformed under the market economy to hold well over 1000 expensive and flashy shops (I'm sure Lenin would be delighted).

At the far end of the square next to the impressive building holding the State Museum stands 17th Century Resurrection Gate and the small 17th Century Kazan Cathedral, which was the first building we went into. Despite its historic feel, we discovered were actually rebuilt (as exact replicas) in the 1990s having been knocked down in the 1930s because they got in the way of the Communist Workers' parades.

We queued up first thing on Thursday (well, after breakfast in Moo Moos) to visit the must see attraction that is Lenin himself. Russia as a slightly different way of keeping an orderly than in Britain. There was no barriers or fence stopping you from skipping the queue, the left baggage and metal detectors and walking straight into the tomb. There were, however, several armed police standing outside the building and by the queue - needless to say no one tried to push in!

I'm not really sure how to describe the slightly odd Lenin experience, other than to say he looked waxy, although pretty good to say he's been there 80 years. Its a definite must see experience. As you leave the tomb, you walk past the guarded burial places of all the communist leaders and big wigs, including Stalin.

Perhaps understandably, Moscow has the feel of a city not entirely at ease with its history. Incongruously, ten minutes down the road from Red Square, towards our hostel, on Lubyanska Square there is a Memorial to the Victims of Totalitarianism. Also on the square stands the foreboding and overpowering Lubyanka Prison, the old KGB building, which is now used by the FSB. Stranger still was our visit to the sculpture park in the South of the city. This was the place where a lot of the unwanted Soviet statues were dumped after 1991, and is now an attraction of its own with lots of contemporary art as been added to the old sculptures.

We completed our stay in Moscow on the Friday with the all important visit to the Kremlin. A lot of the state buildings you can't go into, including the palace where Stalin lived, but Cathedral Square is beautiful, and we visited all four of the cathedrals, each of which was very ornate and impressive. Bell lovers will also be pleased to hear that we saw the biggest bell in the world.

Eating and drinking highlights of our time in Moscow included Propaganda. supposedly the oldest club in Russia it opened just after the fall of communism and has a very chilled atmosphere and surprisingly well priced beer.

Our favourite bar in Moscow, however, as to be Kruzhka, a bar we happened upon on our first night and went back to twice more in threes days and we were clearly a bit of a novelty - on our first visit the waiter disappeared for ages returning looking triumphant with a copy of the menu (clearly unused) printed in English. On our first couple of visits we thought it was a quiet small bar, but it turned out, when we went for a quiet drink on the Friday night that it was in fact a huge club, staffed by four members staff.

The staff were very helpful and friendly, and the three course lunch special for only 169R (about four pounds) was fantastic. Highlights also included watching a drunken policeman handcuff a waiter to the bar and pretend to spank him with his truncheon, and being terrified on the Friday night that we realised that two large security men were stopping people from leaving. When finally got the courage to leave we found out that they were asking for some sort of proof that we had paid. Fortunately, being the only group of non Russians in the vast bar the waiter remembered us and explained that we had paid and we were allowed out!

I said at the start that Russia was known for being a very big, very impressive, very busy and very unfriendly city. It was certainly the first three things, but unfriendly? Not so much. After a difficult start, three dyas in, I felt strangely sad to be leaving the city. But leave we had to...

Luke will pick up with the tale with the first leg of our Trans Mongolian train journey soon, as well as our time in Tomsk!

Love

Louise and Luke

xx

(Posted by Louise)

Stranger in Moscow

Two posts in, and already the "using a song lyric for every post" plan starts to fall apart as we are reduced to post-Thriller Michael Jackson. Still, such is life. Louise will be posting the Moscow experience in full, along with the gory details of the first leg of our Trans Siberian train trip, when we arrive in Tomsk, something that will no doubt please Matt Greenough Esquire no end. Suffice to say, it's been a blast, albeit one that began at 7am at a train station festooned with aggressive beggars and pissed taxi drivers.

We'll "be doing the Kremlin" tomorrow (isn't that a phrase to make anyone that utters it sound like an utter tool?), before catching the 11.30pm train to Novosibirsk. We arrive at 1am two days later with nowhere to stay. With that in mind, let me say now that it's been a pleasure knowing you all, and I'd like Mr Tambourine Man played at the funeral. Having said that, our fellow travellers have reliably (i.e. after a few too many Russian beers) informed us that it's "not as bad as the guide books make out", so one of us might live to tell the tale. [Note to Mum - this is a joke.]

Anyway, to bed. As the amount of comma-related punctuation in this post suggests, I am slightly tired, and possibly half cut. Pics should be on Flickr soon, so get yourselves an account and start browsing.

Stay warm,

Luke and Louise

xxx

(Posted by Luke)

I stuck around St Petersburg...

...when I thought it was time for a change. And what a change it was. Massive, beautiful, vibrant and a little bit scary all at the same time, St Petersburg is simply breathtaking, and has proved to be a pretty good place to kick off our year-long jaunt round the world.

We arrived last Tuesday into a drizzly St Petersburg, and no sooner had we landed on Russian soil that I spotted the first celeb of the trip. Somewhat depressingly, the celeb in question was Lawrence Llewellyn-Bowen, flouncing the wrong way through immigration. On the plus side, we didn't see him again as we ground our way through the visa check, so perhaps the FSB have him in a cage somewhere as I type, torturing him to shit and back for a lifetime spent annoying BBC viewers and ruining the front rooms of chavs across the UK. But enough of which.

We scored our first small victory on Russian soil by bravely eschewing a pricey taxi into town, instead locating and boarding a deliciously rusty minibus that took us to our destination for next to sod all. Throughout the journey, I hid behind our rucksacks as Lou took on the role of conductor, passing wads of roubles from passengers to the driver. Rock and roll. We arrived at Sasha and Andrey's homestay - our home for the next week - an hour early, but were let in by a kindly, if confused, elderly Canadian couple. Due to a power cut that had brought the city centre to a halt, Lou and I sat in darkness in a strange room for an hour before - out of nowhere - power was restored, jazz suddenly filled the room and lights flickered into action. When Andrey arrived, full of apologies for his late arrival, he looked at once like the perfect Russian host. "Please have a vodka" he announced, before adding proudly "It was once simply vodka, but I added ginger... now it is ginger vodka". With his swept back hair and artist's shirt, he explained that there was "a problem that was not really a problem" - there was no room for us in the apartment, but for us not to worry as they had another, better apartment for us to stay in. And so it proved, as a few moments later, Sasha burst in, replete with bleached hair, and delightfully clipped accent and no more than 5ft2 in height to her name. She loaded us all into their car (Andre, Lou, me and her mother), before depositing us all in apartment number two, even more fantastic than the first, all tiled floors, open fires, battered leather couches and homely chaos. And so while Sasha made up our beds, Andre marked out places to eat, drink and learn on a map lit by a wobbly candelabra. We availed ourselves to our first - and only - meal out that night at the trendy Crocodile, where we were served the best stroganoff I have eaten since a weekend break in Bewdley (a story in itself.) As my dad's pal Phil Tufnell would no doubt say, happy days.

Wednesday brought with it our first full day here, and an obligatory bout of the "what in the name of shit am I doing in Russia?" wobbles from me. Duly calmed by Lou, we set out on a walk around most of the historic heart of the city, and were duly blown away by the sheer scale and beauty of the place. We lunched on the best pies in town at the superb Stolle, then walked ourselves silly taking in from afar the many sites we planned to visit later during our stay. Almost every park, bridge, palace and building shared a common feature - beauty on a truly massive scale. The city really is so vast and so uniformly dazzling, you need to pinch yourself regularly to stop yourself becoming blinded to their many charms. After noodles for tea (a phrase I fear I'll type, write and say far too often over the next year), we crossed over to Vasilevsky Island and watched a late-night water display set to music. A walk back past the Hermitage at night, then to bed.

Thursday brought with it more sun, but also a return of the sodding cold that had lingered before we left the UK. Suitably drugged-up, we walked through the summer gardens, which (somewhat bizarrely) seemed to be at their best in Autumn. Brides had pictures taken while children played in mounds of leaves, while the traffic that clogs the roads around the park seemed to simply disappear. Next was the Blockade Museum, the only narrative (as opposed to memorial) reminder that we could find of the 900 day siege that so scarred what was then Leningrad during the Great Patriotic War. Stalin, on one of his many whims, had closed the original Blockade Museum, which opened months after the siege ended, in the early 1950s. While today's version may be a humbler affair, it is still incredibly moving, even though none of the exhibits have English explanations. Two things stayed with me. One, the solitary sliver of sawdust bread that Petersburgers had to eat each each day throughout the siege. Two, the small group of babushkas who staff the place, almost every one of whom must have lived through the siege. Their bravery in reliving the horrors of sixty years ago so others might learn - and remember - is truly something.

From the ridiculous to the sublime, we headed over to the St Peter and St Paul fortress on foot, stopping en route for some delightful cabbage bread (really.) As we walked, we spotted two Russians hiring out three monkeys dressed as children for snaps with smiling families. No sooner had I cursed the monkeys and their owners, than one of the three chimps started a fight with a stray dog that had attached himself to us. Truly bizarre. All this took place within spitting distance of the city zoo. It would seem that people travel to the zoo from far around to abuse whatever animal they can lay their hands on, be it monkey, dog, horse. More worryingly, a glimpse through the gates suggested that conditions inside were not much better...

Spent almost all of Friday in the Hermitage, which is beautiful, wonderful and vast in such a way that it could only really be housed in this place. It makes the Ufizi look like the Welsh Woolen Museum (which is, for those who haven't visited, massively subsidised and utterly shite.) My highlight? Reading an info board the explained how there were only Michaelangelo canvasses in existence, then realising Lou and I were stood in between two of them. That night, we took a boat cruise on the cities canals and river, all bathed in a sunset that would have graced any room in the Hermitage and held its own. We got home, and spent the night drinking with our flatmate for two nights Martin, a (as it turns out, very well regarded) photographer. A German by birth, he now lives in the United Arab Emirates with his Russian wife. We touched on football, politics, travel, the monarchy (Lou tried the whole "Luke loves the Queen" shtick) and 101 ways to get robbed in Moscow. I recommend anyone with a taste for top-notch photography and / or Russia to check out his book "Roll over, Lenin" - it's ace.

Yesterday was spent, for the largest part, in the Railway Museum. Possibly not on every visitors To Do list when they rock up in Russia's window to the West, it was nevertheless a fascinatingly quirky gem. Lou and I spent a very happy hour or so looking through the replicas and info boards and were just about to leave when one of the (Russian speaking) female staff insisted we join a tour group being led (in Russian) by a mad professor style tutor. When we tried to explain that we only spoke English, he explained - with his arms - that we would be able to see things move if we followed. He was as good as his word, and as we followed the group round, he flicked hidden switches and brought every exhibit to life. He even beckoned me over at one point to explain, again without words, how one exhibit worked after seeing my puzzled expression. Little things, maybe, but strangely moving all the same. Later, we took our first journey on the metro and through a few of the cities historic train stations. They are larger, grander, deeper and simply cooler than anything I have ever travelled on - or waited in - before. And not a single sodding Upper Crust in site. Magic. We ended the day watching the nightly raising of the bridges, drinking brandy coffee and feeling rather Russian.

For our last day here, we caught the Metro out to the Defenders of Leningrad memorial on the edge of the city. Like the surrounding area, it is far more Soviet in style than the rest of the city, but the memorial itself is as gigantic as it is haunting, as overpowering as it is moving. Flames burn in the centre while a huge obelisk towers above, while haunting music draws you underground where simple exhibits tell a story to the soundtrack of a metronome. It was, in many ways, a fitting end to our time here. And, as I have 14 minutes left to finish this thing up, I'll sign off. We catch an overnight train for Moscow tonight, where I think our Russian adventure will really start with a bang. Top tip for St Pete? If you come, take your time, and stay with Sasha and Andrey!

We'll try and post some pics on Flickr soon, so you can actually see what we're doing. Which will be more informative, and less tiresome, than reading this.

Stay warm

Luke and Louise
xx

(Posted by Luke)