Feet, Kielbasa, and Sweat

I entered Russia on 19 August and began my trip eastward on 25 August. From Moscow I stopped in Vladimir, Nizhny Novgorod, Yekaterinburg, Novosibirsk, Irkutsk, Ulan-Ude, and Belogorsk. Finally,

Schedule of Stops

after eighteen days moving across mountains, rivers, taiga, and forest, I arrived in Vladivostok. Here’s (nearly) the end of my tale. 

When I left Ulan-Ude on 8 September, my next stop would be almost two days later in the tiny city of Belogorsk, a stones-throw away from the Chinese border. There was no real reason why I chose to stop here other than that I didn’t want to be on the train for seventy-two hours straight. I think the most difficult leg of the Transsiberian for most passengers is the home stretch from Ulan-Ude to Vladivostok. Between these two points there are not many interesting stops, save for Khabarovsk which is the second largest city in the Russian Far East after Vladivostok. I believe

Lenin Welcomes All at Belogorsk

most riders choose to do the whole final leg uninterrupted and just get to the finish line. I was glad I took a day in Belogorsk, as I was starting to get jumpy by my second day on the train. While there was not much to see (besides a Lenin Statue or two), I was able to get my legs on solid ground and sleep on a non-moving bed. It was also a beautiful day, so I took the time to walk and take in life on a border city in the middle of nowhere. But, alas, all things must end and by the next morning Belogorsk was just another train station fast disappearing in the rearview mirror.

Not Far from the Chinese Border...A Summary of My Trip

I was excited about my final train ride as I was riding on the 1/2 train, the Rossiya. Other than the Golden Eagle, this is the best train on the Transsiberian railroad. As a point of fact, all trains are not created equal along the route. There is no single “Transsiberian” train as passengers can take any

A Lonely Factory

number of trains to reach their final destination. It happens that theRossiya is supposed to be the best train; cleaner, newer, with the best service. I thought I would be riding my last twenty-four hours on a golden chariot, into Russia on the Pacific. I was half-right. My train was, indeed, newer and cleaner than the rest I had ridden on since I departed from Moscow. The beds were more comfortable, the food car had better meals, and there were places to plug in people’s myriad of devices. But the luxury ended there. As I entered the train at 0730, I noticed the smell. By the time the train had reached Belogorsk, it had been on the road at least six days; that meant that many of the passengers had been on the train for six days. Although there are bathrooms (fairly clean), there are no showers. Many passengers will clean themselves up every morning with a sponge bath; many passengers will not. I happened to be in the “will not” car that morning. The accumulated smell of men, women, and children in an enclosed train car was quite overwhelming. Try as I might NOT to do so, I began to identify the smells as I walked towards my coupe. I think the ones that stood out most of all were feet and sweat (or, just sweaty feet). I could, of course, smell a bit of toilet thrown in for good measure. But I think

A Beer and a Snack

the odor that made my stomach turn just a bit was the addition of kielbasa. Someone in that car had been eating a very pungent pepperoni-type sausage. This in itself is a smell I do love. On any other occasion, I would go in search of this aroma. But, when mixed in with sweat, feet, and toilet, it was far from appetizing. These were the smells that predominated the last day of my travels. I would get used to it, then step out to go to the dining car, only to be hit full on upon my return. One big reason for the smells is the lack of ventilation. Much like Ukrainians, Russians are deeply afraid of breezes. They believe air, especially cooler air, will immediately give you a cold or make your joints stiff. Therefore, even when there are windows available to open or a ventilation system primed for use, Russians will opt to sit in a closed space. This modern train had these ‘open’ options but no one, even the conductor in the car, wanted to use them. For a non-Russian, this logic is maddening. As the heat began to rise both inside and outside the car, I finally had enough and cracked the window in my coupe. Fortunately, my roommates did not argue and I was able to breathe for the remainder of the trip.

A Patriotic Statue in the Night

Khabarovsk Train Station

                                        

The last twenty-four hours of my journey across Russia slipped by without incident. The train continued to skirt the Chinese border which was why we traveled at night. Looking out the window was useless as there were very few lights and not much to see. Earlier in the day, the train had passed through small mountains and along some beautiful rivers. Now that we were off the taiga, the landscape was a bit more populated with “stuff”. I saw peaceful little villages far off the beaten track. The sun was warm but, despite the heat, the trees were well in the midst of changing colors. It definitely had a “New England in autumn” feel. I as imagining how beautiful (and how cold) it would be during the winter. I spent much of the time in the dining car, reading a book and developing pictures. The day eventually faded as we passed the last significant cities before Vladivostok: the capital of the Jewish Autonomous Republic, Birobidzhan (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Birobidzhan. Thanks, Stalin!) and Khabarovsk. During the night a stiff rain drummed against the roof of the train, providing for a suitable sleep. But how could I sleep when I would soon be in Vladivostok? And, sure enough, the provodnitsya came to wake us up at

0530 to prepare for arrival. After rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I stripped the bed and had a cup of coffee. Then, we pulled into the station. There, to greet me, was an old locomotive from days gone by and a monument showing that I had come 9,288 km (5771.3 miles). It seems to have gone by in a flash, yet I had seen so much. And there was more to come, so stay tuned.  

Loco for this Locomotive

End of the Line! 

                              

Holy Cow!

0530, Ulan-Ude

After the relatively Soviet feel of both Novosibirsk and Irkutsk, I was unsure of what to expect in Ulan-Ude. At this point I would be more than half way through my trip, going deeper into Asia. So far the Asian effect was slight; I noticed more Asiatic features in many of the inhabitants of the cities I visited as well as with many of the passengers. But overall, I still felt like I was in Russia, albeit a very rustic part. Ulan-Ude was the real deal. Less than twelve hours from the Mongolian capital of Ulan-Bator, Ulan-Ude was Asiatic to the core. From the natives to the food to the religion, I felt like I could have been in Mongolia instead of Russia

By now I was used to the train trips. I get to the station, find my coupe, meet my bunkmates, and settle in for a long trip; in this case a relatively brief eight-hour overnight trip. I was happy with the

Still Early!

quick arrival but I was disappointed that the train skirted the shores of Lake Baikal after dark. I also had a traveling companion. I randomly met another Transsiberian traveler, Cuba from Poland (!), while sitting in a coffee shop in Irkutsk. He was going to spend the day in Ulan-Ude while waiting for his connection to Krasnoyarsk. So, as the train pulled into the station at 0530, we decided to hike it into the downtown, see the enormous statue of Lenin’s head, and then find breakfast. Finding the monument proved easy…after an extremely long walk, encumbered by backpacks. It was just as it was advertised – a gigantic Lenin head in the central square. I admit, I was pretty impressed! I thought it would be along the lines of that giant ball of twine and some of those other novelties that you find on Route 66 or the like. But I could not stop looking at this mammoth cranium. If this is the one thing that gets tourists to visit Ulan-Ude, then the city has a great start. What they need to do is build things around it to keep visitors satisfied. I say, hook them with the head, then wow them with

The Head!

operas, parades, museums, sports, etc. Currently, it’s more or less the head. I was also wondering if there are other ginormous pieces of Lenin in other parts of the country. For example, maybe his left knee is on a pedestal up in the far north in Murmansk. I have it on good authority that you can go to the National Medical Museum in Moscow and see his penis displayed. But it’s so tiny you have to use an electron microscope. Clearly, he was overcompensating with the head.

After fifteen thousand photographs of Lenin and the clock hitting a late 0700, Cuba and I decided we needed food. So we started walking…and walking…and walking some more. Every single shop and restaurant was closed. Of course this was not a huge surprise (hey, we’re in the midst of Siberia at the crack of dawn!) but still hugely disappointing when you are exhausted and hungry (hexhausted?, Exungry?). We used my guidebook to no avail. We didn’t use my guidebook, to no avail. We ended up walking around the main part of the city (it’s not that big) at least three times before we came upon a Subway. Yup, Subway is even in Ulan-Ude! We trudged and took a look at the food and decided to just have coffee. Apparently, they do not have corporate quality control experts coming out very often to that part of the world if the state of the food was any indication. But the coffee did hit the spot. We sat down, BS-ed, and made plans for the day while waiting for 0800 and the opening of some real coffee houses.

Subway the Hard Way

After getting food in our systems and getting lost again, we finally hopped the bus which was heading to the outskirts of town in Buryatia. Cuba and I both wanted to see the Ivolginsky Datsan located about forty minutes and two marshrutkas from city center. The datsan was, believe it or not, was built with the blessing of Stalin in 1945; evidently as he was trying to curry favor with the locals. Since that time, Ivolginsky has remained the spiritual center of Russian Buddhism. It is so important that the Dali Lama made a pilgrimage to the site many moons ago. This is where I began to see the real Asian Russia. After conking out on the first marshrutka, I woke up to find us driving along a valley filled with sprawling villages composed of wooden houses. The only Soviet-style apartment buildings to be seen were located in the small urban centers. The rest of the time it was dusty plains with scrub bushes, houses, and mountains in the background. It was quite a change from everything else I had seen on my trip so far. We then had to hop out and get in a smaller marshrutka that had no number, just a picture of the datsan on the window to identify its final destination. As we rolled down the road, we could immediately see the datsan in its compound. It looked like it was really close but looks were deceiving. The land was so flat and the distances so far, it took over ten minutes to reach the property. Fortunately we had lots to look at – cows! Yes, lining the road with apparently no one to watch over them were dozens of cows. They were just sitting on both sides of the road, surrounded by clouds of dust and flies. I’m guessing they didn’t fear ending up on someone’s dinner plate. Or perhaps they were just stupid (yet delicious) cows. 

Beware a Shitting Cow

The datsan was well worth the trip. First, it was free. We asked at the gate if we needed to pay and the MOD (Monk On Duty) just waved us in. Once inside you are asked to follow the path in a (somewhat) circular pattern around the compound. There were no explanations about the various buildings as this is a working religious community, not a museum. As we walked around the circle, turned the multitudinous prayer wheels and took lots of pictures. Although it was perfectly acceptable to take photos, we realized that we were the only ones doing so. Something felt slightly sacrilegious about treating a religious compound like a tourist destination. But, that’s exactly what it is to many people like me. So my Polish friend and I just kept snapping away.  The only places we were not allowed to photograph were the insides of the temples. I wish I could have taken a pic or two as the temples were filled

Wheel o'Prayer

with Buddha and other religious icons, burning incense, and food offerings. They monks were also selling various trinkets so it was a bit of a business as well. We didn’t see any ceremonies or events but there were plenty of cows just loitering around; eating and shitting. What a life!

That was pretty much my first day in Ulan-Ute. I met some locals who showed me around and that was quite helpful. But by six o’clock I was pretty wiped out. I still was unsure how I felt about my new surroundings but I had two more days to see what else was on offer.

Hello, Dali! 

Spin the Wheel, Say a Prayer!