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! 

                              

It’s All About the Buuz

Yup, it’s as simple as that: the buuz. Like many cultures, a staple of Mongolian cuisine is the dumpling, which they call buuz. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Buuz) Some dumplings, like the Ukrainian varenyky and the Russian pelmeni are small and should be eaten with a fork. But the Mongolian buuz is much bigger and is meant to be eaten with your hands. When you get your plate of buuz, they come with a little hole in the top to release some of the steam. But don’t be too hasty with your eating lest you burn your mouth. If you bite into the buuz too quickly (like I did), then the little pool of (tasty) broth will burn your mouth. What you need to do is bite a small hole at the bottom, let the steam come out, and then slurp the broth. Only then should you eat the rest of this delicious creation. If you so desire, you can add hot or soy sauce. I thought I’d get tired of eating these things but three days were not enough! Bring on the buuz! 

The Grand Entrance to the Ethno Museum

Rock Formation/Burial Mound 

Besides eating, I used my last day and a half in Ulan-Ude to great effect. Leaving my semi-crappy hotel early the next morning, I made my way to the Ethnographic Museum of the People of Transbaikalian Culture, etc., etc. (http://www.ethnomuseum03.ru/events/istoriya-muzeya/) Like any good museum in the former Soviet Union, it is located far outside of town and is in partial disrepair. This means that you go only if you are a local and you know about the place or you’re a tourist with a masochistic streak. Guess which one I am? Actually, it means if you decide to go, you must do a bit or planning but when you arrive it is well worth the time. In this case, I took a marshrutka far, far to the limits of town. I passed lots of small towns like the ones I had seen the day before on the way to

Father Nature

the datsan. But instead of a valley, I went further up into the wooded hills. It was quite beautiful, peaceful. Here is where I found the Ethnographic Museum which, in effect, was a series of small villages plus a zoo (of abused animals) situated in the middle of the woods. All I had to do was pay a minimal entrance fee and I could explore at my leisure. And explore I did. The museum had everything from rock formations of early settlers to an Old Believers village to an early 20^th century pre-Soviet Siberian settlement. It was all quite informative with some of the information in English! I think I just lucked out and went on a perfectly sunny day. The only part I did not enjoy was the small zoo which was attached. These poor animals, from tigers to bears, were in these tiny cages. I made a quick retreat as I could not stand to see these poor animals suffer. If a guy with a heart of stone can be affected I only wonder how other visitors must feel. 

Siberian House, 19th Century 

Although I was a bit tired and the day was getting late, I decided to see one more datsan. Unlike the one in Buryatia, this Buddhist compound was located on a hill at the top of the city. Therefore, I only needed to take a brief ten minute marshrutka ride up…and up…and up to the top of the hill. And boy, what a great idea this was! Not only was this datsan brand spanking new, it had the most amazing view. From this vantage point visitors can see all the way across the valley where the city of Ulan-Ute is located. You can also see the mountains and the great river flowing along the plains. No matter how many photos I took of the view, none of them can do it justice. This datsan is very well planned out, with a circular path winding around the temples and gardens. There

Temple at datsan

was a huge bell that you could ring as well as signs in Russian with Buddhist sayings. Finally, around back, there were thousands upon thousands of prayer flags arranged above another spectacular view. I can understand why someone would want to devote his/her life to prayer if s/he lived here. It was incredibly peaceful and visitors treated the grounds with respect.

There was not much more I could do after that point. I felt like I had a complete day of ethnological studies capped off by a sunset of reflection and peaceful thoughts. The only thing left to do was head back to town and eat. I should have gone to a restaurant that specialized in Buryatian cuisine but I was not feeling that daring at the moment. I knew I needed to try the local dish of raw horse meat, but the platters were just too big

Prayer Flags with a View

for someone who just wanted a taste. So, I settled for a faux English pub and chowed down on curry washed down by beer. I then retreated to my hotel to sleep and prepare for my forty-one-hour trip to Belogorsk the next day. I spent almost three days in Ulan-Ute and I barely got started. It was well worth the stop!

Buddha Says, "No Feeding the Monks"

Datsan with a View