Moscow, Baikal Express
As the train leaves Moscow Yaroslavsky Vogzal the thought hits my mind: "if I take one more step I'll be the furthest away from home I have ever been." (Lord of the Rings). This is the greatest journey I've ever embarked on. - traversing Russia kilometer by kilometer on the train. One of the Danish guys in my compartment, Michael, jokes: "set your clocks, it's only going to be three more days [to Irkutsk]". Only it's no joke - this little compartment, shared with Michael, his friend Mes and one Russian man named Mikhail, will be my home for the next 75 hours. Mikhail actually already looks like he's is worried about a long boring trip - he doesn't speak anything but Russian. It strikes me that this shouldn't happen to him in his own country. Technically we're the ones who can't communicate but, hey, I guess that's life - Geschichten, die das Leben so schreibt, like Christian said. Maybe this is my chance to learn a bit. Mikhail is going to Olkhon Island in Lake Baikal, so he'll be with us all the way. In a sense, there we have the old spirit of travelling. This train takes in all our fates and stories and intertwines them for the next few days before letting us go. Like the great loom of the Norns. For good or ill, where it'll take us we don't know. That's what makes it exciting. Now I feel the excitement again. This is finally it. Outside, the landscape begins flying by in the growing dusk as the train speeds us toward our destiny.
Tuesday, 31 July 2007
Encounters in the Park
Moscow, Russia
I was in for an interesting encounter when I went to Orekhovo station to see the nearby reconstructed palace. Built originally by Catherine the Great, later destroyed or abandoned (never really caught that bit) and never finished it was meant to be a second Versailles. Now it is being restored and finished according to its original designs. At the moment it is still pretty much a construction site - one of many here. Some of the buildings around the huge park are being finished. The main work now seems to be the sculpting of the park itself. A mammoth task of putting in plumbing for fountains, building stairs and paths, planting the right vegetation at the right place and the like. Then all the tracks from the heavy vehicles have to be cleaned up. And then the tracks of the cleanup crews. Situated on a hill, within vast forrested grounds I think it will be a grand place once it's done.
Here, on the way from the Metro, I met Ludmilla (or Ludy, she said). A very grandmother-like, kind old lady who I just asked for the way to the palace. She spoke no English but understood what I wanted and, I think, told me that she was also going there. What followed was her giving me a two-and-a-half-hour tour of the grounds, eagerly explaining things in Russian. She seemed to know the history and background very well. When I didn't understand she would repeat things over and over and then look very embarassed when she realised she couldn't get the message across. "Dvarich," she would say, "bolshoy dvarich." That I later understood to mean "big palace". "Dom" I learnt to mean house. And a few other things. There was the main palace, houses for lower aristocrats, an opera house even. Sometimes she'd remember words in German which helped, so we somehow managed to communicate. Now I have an idea what the first ambassador or traveller must have felt like, learning a language from zero with noone to teach you. Unperturbed, she'd go on talking and repeating and trying again and again. Her patience was impressive.
I understood she was upset about the damage the construction was doing to the park. The used to be wild flowers, she showed me, but they were cut to make way for lawn. She clearly preferred it the way it was. But a palace attracts tourists and tourists bring money. So, civilisation eats into the wild and imprints itself. I guess that's the way it goes.
Thanks, Ludmilla, bless you.
I was in for an interesting encounter when I went to Orekhovo station to see the nearby reconstructed palace. Built originally by Catherine the Great, later destroyed or abandoned (never really caught that bit) and never finished it was meant to be a second Versailles. Now it is being restored and finished according to its original designs. At the moment it is still pretty much a construction site - one of many here. Some of the buildings around the huge park are being finished. The main work now seems to be the sculpting of the park itself. A mammoth task of putting in plumbing for fountains, building stairs and paths, planting the right vegetation at the right place and the like. Then all the tracks from the heavy vehicles have to be cleaned up. And then the tracks of the cleanup crews. Situated on a hill, within vast forrested grounds I think it will be a grand place once it's done.
Here, on the way from the Metro, I met Ludmilla (or Ludy, she said). A very grandmother-like, kind old lady who I just asked for the way to the palace. She spoke no English but understood what I wanted and, I think, told me that she was also going there. What followed was her giving me a two-and-a-half-hour tour of the grounds, eagerly explaining things in Russian. She seemed to know the history and background very well. When I didn't understand she would repeat things over and over and then look very embarassed when she realised she couldn't get the message across. "Dvarich," she would say, "bolshoy dvarich." That I later understood to mean "big palace". "Dom" I learnt to mean house. And a few other things. There was the main palace, houses for lower aristocrats, an opera house even. Sometimes she'd remember words in German which helped, so we somehow managed to communicate. Now I have an idea what the first ambassador or traveller must have felt like, learning a language from zero with noone to teach you. Unperturbed, she'd go on talking and repeating and trying again and again. Her patience was impressive.
I understood she was upset about the damage the construction was doing to the park. The used to be wild flowers, she showed me, but they were cut to make way for lawn. She clearly preferred it the way it was. But a palace attracts tourists and tourists bring money. So, civilisation eats into the wild and imprints itself. I guess that's the way it goes.
Thanks, Ludmilla, bless you.
We're not in Kansas anymore
Moscow, Russia
Internet connection at the hostel is down today. All day. And last night, too. May yet be for days. In UK or Germany this would be cause for public rioting. Here, our host just shrugs. Maybe he could choose a new provider. If it goes on. Until then, sit tight. Things are different here.
Internet connection at the hostel is down today. All day. And last night, too. May yet be for days. In UK or Germany this would be cause for public rioting. Here, our host just shrugs. Maybe he could choose a new provider. If it goes on. Until then, sit tight. Things are different here.
Something old, something new, something borrowed, something true
Moscow, Russia
It's the old song again: "girls, girls, girls". I can sing it quite well now. It goes round and round my head. This is a special verse, though. The girl that handed me the tickets for my onward trip from Moscow at Real Russia's Moscow office to be precise. Long dark hair, tall, slender - she'll know who she is. Sadly, I didn't even catch her name. Nonetheless, she gets my official crown for being the most beautiful girl in all of Moscow. None smiles sweeter than she does!
The new Transformers film really kicks ass! I know this should be about Moscow but I watched it here and it's just too awesome. Decepticons attack, Autobots roll out, "one shall stand and one shall fall" and all that jazz. Or rather metal - heavy metal. It was enough to bring tears to an old fan's eyes.
The German book series "WAS IST WAS" - popular science for young readers - also exists in Russia. I grew up on those books and now I saw shiny new editions displayed in a shop window here. What a nice surprise. Good ideas spread.
If you throw something away there will always be someone to pick it up - be it a pidgeon pecking at bread crumbs or a beggar gathering the coins that tourists throw at a plaque in the ground off the Red Square. Some (fellow Russians I believe) even throw coins at him - in contempt as it seems. He takes it and just stoops and gathers up the money. Sad but true.
It's the old song again: "girls, girls, girls". I can sing it quite well now. It goes round and round my head. This is a special verse, though. The girl that handed me the tickets for my onward trip from Moscow at Real Russia's Moscow office to be precise. Long dark hair, tall, slender - she'll know who she is. Sadly, I didn't even catch her name. Nonetheless, she gets my official crown for being the most beautiful girl in all of Moscow. None smiles sweeter than she does!
The new Transformers film really kicks ass! I know this should be about Moscow but I watched it here and it's just too awesome. Decepticons attack, Autobots roll out, "one shall stand and one shall fall" and all that jazz. Or rather metal - heavy metal. It was enough to bring tears to an old fan's eyes.
The German book series "WAS IST WAS" - popular science for young readers - also exists in Russia. I grew up on those books and now I saw shiny new editions displayed in a shop window here. What a nice surprise. Good ideas spread.
If you throw something away there will always be someone to pick it up - be it a pidgeon pecking at bread crumbs or a beggar gathering the coins that tourists throw at a plaque in the ground off the Red Square. Some (fellow Russians I believe) even throw coins at him - in contempt as it seems. He takes it and just stoops and gathers up the money. Sad but true.
Metro!
The Metro in both St. Petersburg and Moscow is really something to write home about - as positively as possible. Especially in comparison with London's Tube. It's highly efficient for starters: even in a busy city like Moscow with its extensive Metro network I don't think I've ever waited for longer than two (2) minutes and something for a train. I know because there's a clock that resets every time a train comes. Three minutes is minimum wait in London, I think. I haven't seen any signals fail. Trains haven't been standing on the tracks for no apparent reason. All trains are old but, hell, they work well.
On top of all that, there are the stations themselves. Meny are monumental - literally - with mosaics or iron sculptures or reliefs and domed ceilings. They are sights in themselves, actually. It makes using the metro a real experience.
Finally, it's even quite cheap. 17 rubles even in Moscow with a discount for carnet tickets.
Sorry, but eat your heart out TfL.
On top of all that, there are the stations themselves. Meny are monumental - literally - with mosaics or iron sculptures or reliefs and domed ceilings. They are sights in themselves, actually. It makes using the metro a real experience.
Finally, it's even quite cheap. 17 rubles even in Moscow with a discount for carnet tickets.
Sorry, but eat your heart out TfL.
Monday, 30 July 2007
Moskau!
Diese Stadt ist eine Dirne,
Hat rote Flecken auf der Stirn,
Ihre Zähne sind aus Gold,
Sie ist fett und doch so hold;
Ihr Mund fährt mir zutale,
Wenn ich sie dafür bezahle,
Sie zieht sich aus, doch nur für Geld,
Die Stadt, die mich in Atem hält:
Moskau - Раз, два, три (one, two, three) ...
The first thing that came to my mind when the train entered the city were these lyrics to the song by Rammstein (I miss my music!).
The second was, of course, the descriptions of Sergey Lukianenko. We actually passed Ostankino TV Tower when we pulled in. For some reason that got me really excited. I had read about it, seen it on TV and now I'm here. For real. It was - more even then the Red Square itself - the signal that I was actually in Moscow. A sharp needle, more than 500 meters tall, piercing the clear morning sky. I still can't get enough of it.
The Red Square was, of course, another highlight. I remembered it most from the film Red Heat (80's action with Arnold Schwarzenegger), so it was exciting to see it with my own eyes. There's something about it. The red Kremlyn walls on one side, the grand department store ГУМ - GUM - on the other, limited at either end by the historical museum and St. Basil's. It's a place where you can feel history. Lenin's Tomb reminds of recent past while the fortress has evolved out of the historic city centre over hundreds of years. The whole layout reminds me of Tian An Men in Beijing. The politics, the tombs, the grand gates, the wide open space.
In Moscow, I managed to hook up with a Russian girl who lives here. I had written to her via a website called couchsurfing.com. She replied, so we met on my first afternoon here. Her name is Julia. I wasn't sure what to expect. Johani had used the website a lot saying that the girls he had met seemed to see the meetings more like dates. Not that I'd be opposed to that (who would?) but it could easily eat a nasty hole into my budget (on top of sight seeing prices). Plus, it would be stupid to invest time, emotion and money into something that already has an end date.
However, it turned out to be none of this. Julia was a very sweet girl very eager to show me around and curious about me. She showed me to some places not so frequented by tourists. In the end, I'm almost tempted to say that she took her "duties" as a guide a bit too seriously. She was almost professional about it. What I mean is that I enjoyed talking tp her and exchanging thoughts and views. Sometimes she would then interrupt and say "here, this is typically Russian" or "here, have you tried this". It's not an easy balance, I guess, because if you're showing someone around you want to make sure they get the most of their stay. Still, for me the absolute highlight was that she and her friend Olya found a cinema that showed films in English, so I could finally watch Transformers. Thanks a million times, girls! For that (if nothing else) I love you. I hope to return the favour one day.
So, do I now understand the lyrics from the beginning better? Maybe a bit. Everything in Msocow seems to have its price. Still more than St. Petersburg. Double ouch from my wallet!
Gold teeth. People do have them here a lot, that's true. Every smile gleams and sparkles. A guy on the train here said that Moscow was dirty and run-down. I guess, to a certain extent he's right. It's also not as grand a place as St. Petersburg. Still, a lot of restoration and improvement work is being done. Like old decay being covered with gold.
The city feels young and vibrant where Piter felt merely historic. There are young people everywhere, in parks and squares in the evening practicing scate-boarding, roller-blading, drumming or the artistic use of little balls on a string (god knows what it's called) or just chatting. And you see the new gold everywhere in the form of posh shops and expensive (read: phat) cars. Very happening place, Moscow.
So, in front of the Bolshoy Teatr, old Karl Marx looks down at me propagating his "proletarians of all countries, unite" while a very capitalist advert screen flashes colourful messages across my back. I wonder what he'd say to that...?
Hat rote Flecken auf der Stirn,
Ihre Zähne sind aus Gold,
Sie ist fett und doch so hold;
Ihr Mund fährt mir zutale,
Wenn ich sie dafür bezahle,
Sie zieht sich aus, doch nur für Geld,
Die Stadt, die mich in Atem hält:
Moskau - Раз, два, три (one, two, three) ...
The first thing that came to my mind when the train entered the city were these lyrics to the song by Rammstein (I miss my music!).
The second was, of course, the descriptions of Sergey Lukianenko. We actually passed Ostankino TV Tower when we pulled in. For some reason that got me really excited. I had read about it, seen it on TV and now I'm here. For real. It was - more even then the Red Square itself - the signal that I was actually in Moscow. A sharp needle, more than 500 meters tall, piercing the clear morning sky. I still can't get enough of it.
The Red Square was, of course, another highlight. I remembered it most from the film Red Heat (80's action with Arnold Schwarzenegger), so it was exciting to see it with my own eyes. There's something about it. The red Kremlyn walls on one side, the grand department store ГУМ - GUM - on the other, limited at either end by the historical museum and St. Basil's. It's a place where you can feel history. Lenin's Tomb reminds of recent past while the fortress has evolved out of the historic city centre over hundreds of years. The whole layout reminds me of Tian An Men in Beijing. The politics, the tombs, the grand gates, the wide open space.
In Moscow, I managed to hook up with a Russian girl who lives here. I had written to her via a website called couchsurfing.com. She replied, so we met on my first afternoon here. Her name is Julia. I wasn't sure what to expect. Johani had used the website a lot saying that the girls he had met seemed to see the meetings more like dates. Not that I'd be opposed to that (who would?) but it could easily eat a nasty hole into my budget (on top of sight seeing prices). Plus, it would be stupid to invest time, emotion and money into something that already has an end date.
However, it turned out to be none of this. Julia was a very sweet girl very eager to show me around and curious about me. She showed me to some places not so frequented by tourists. In the end, I'm almost tempted to say that she took her "duties" as a guide a bit too seriously. She was almost professional about it. What I mean is that I enjoyed talking tp her and exchanging thoughts and views. Sometimes she would then interrupt and say "here, this is typically Russian" or "here, have you tried this". It's not an easy balance, I guess, because if you're showing someone around you want to make sure they get the most of their stay. Still, for me the absolute highlight was that she and her friend Olya found a cinema that showed films in English, so I could finally watch Transformers. Thanks a million times, girls! For that (if nothing else) I love you. I hope to return the favour one day.
So, do I now understand the lyrics from the beginning better? Maybe a bit. Everything in Msocow seems to have its price. Still more than St. Petersburg. Double ouch from my wallet!
Gold teeth. People do have them here a lot, that's true. Every smile gleams and sparkles. A guy on the train here said that Moscow was dirty and run-down. I guess, to a certain extent he's right. It's also not as grand a place as St. Petersburg. Still, a lot of restoration and improvement work is being done. Like old decay being covered with gold.
The city feels young and vibrant where Piter felt merely historic. There are young people everywhere, in parks and squares in the evening practicing scate-boarding, roller-blading, drumming or the artistic use of little balls on a string (god knows what it's called) or just chatting. And you see the new gold everywhere in the form of posh shops and expensive (read: phat) cars. Very happening place, Moscow.
So, in front of the Bolshoy Teatr, old Karl Marx looks down at me propagating his "proletarians of all countries, unite" while a very capitalist advert screen flashes colourful messages across my back. I wonder what he'd say to that...?
Thursday, 26 July 2007
I love Piter
St. Petersburg, Russia
St. Petersburg, or Piter as locals lovingly call it, is an exciting place to start a tour of Russia. There's a huge amount of impressions to gather and sometimes one pushes the other out.
The city itself is grand. Even far out of the centre streets are lined with imposing structures with turrets and pillars and iron sculptures. Sadly, a lot of the non-famous ones have started decaying. There are so many palaces that today many are just blocks of flats or offices with dark stair wells and gaping tunnels leading to shady backyards. I think if one day all this was renovated St. Petersburg would be a city of such grandeur that it would easily eclipse cities like Paris or Venice.
For reasons I detailed in this previous post I tried to be a bit selective about which attractions to enter. The Hermitage is well worth it. The Red and Gold Rooms are magnificent and the art collection from ancient Greece and Rome to 19th century is huge and comprehensive. Disappointingly, the Russian masters are found in a different museum and they closed before I could find the German section.
Peterpavlovsky Fortress I liked a lot - not so much the structure itself as the island in the Neva river from where it dominates the river. You get a great view of the opposite waterfront with the Admirality and the Hermitage. One evening they were performing choral singing here, so I stayed to listen. It spread a very sombre mood over the wind swept, darkening beach and reflected off the massive walls. I ended up sitting there long after the singing had stopped admiring the sunset. I took a photo for a very giddy young couple. I wonder why they were so happy.
The most interesting encounter by far was at the Ethnographic Museum. I wanted to learn a bit about Russian culture and ended up learning a lot more. In the Ukraine section I encountered a group of girls, art students painting the colourful national costumes. From the first time I dodged past their view one of them kept looking at me. They quietly giggled. When I tried to comment that I liked their work they didn't understand but a matron-like museum "guard" came over and started translating in broken English. She introduced me - interestingly she only ever introduced to me the girl that had been looking over, her name was Anya. She spoke neither English nor German but was very cute about it. Another girl, I was told, spoke some German but was too shy to try it. Then the matron asked if I had been to the Russian hall. Had I? Err ... Then she picked Anya and obviously told her to give me a tour. This produced a lot more giggling and the cutest of blushes. Off we went. For the next half hour or so we went through the Russian collection, talked at more than to each other communicating mainly through gestures and common words like "yes" and "no". She was from Rostov, art student of two years, here on a ten day practical trip. Had she painted this costume? No, but this and this one. She was proud to show me. I didn't want to keep her for too long since she was here to work and I said so. This is where the confusion started. She asked another matron to translate. This lady seemed even more eager to pair us up. What did I want from Anya, she urged. Did I want to go out with her? Did I want her phone number? Well .... That put me off a bit. Yes, the girl was very cute but I didn't want to seem like this was my only intention. I didn't want anything. Nothing, she translated (I think). That seemed to produce the wrong reaction. Gah! Wrong bloody emphasis! After a lot of other misunderstandings I let Anya return to her work. At least that was the right thing to do. The first matron appeared again and made her write down her phone number for me. More giggling, more blushing. The matron reminded me that Anya would have to work until 4 pm. Then I said goodbye. I found the situation so awkward that I didn't dare to go back until it was too late. "Girl bye-bye", the matron told me with an air of genuine disappointment. They really seemed to think I should have asked Anya out - on the most difficult date of our lives. I never did call her in the end. It would have been awkward with a translator on the phone. To this moment I wonder what was going on. Was she interested in meeting me or did she just go because the matron told her. Were the matrons trying to pair us up? Did they know something I didn't because of the language barrier? Should I have asked her out? Chestnuts, preciousss, chestnuts!
Update: Much later I was asked if I had ever had to rely on body language alone to communicate. Would have been interesting to try with Anya. Oh, well.
"Geschichten, die das Leben so schreibt", said Christian, a German guy I had met at the hostel warning me it was merely a phrase. He was in St. Petersburg for a language course. Very nice, generous chap. "Als Deutscher bist du hier der Chef", he also told me referring to meeting girls. As a German you're the boss here. He claims they really love German guys. I never managed to put it to the test.
I shared a room with him and a Finnish guy called Johani, who was also there for a language course. He had started a bold project. He wrote endless name cards in Russian with the intent to hand them to pretty girls on the metro. We dared him to try it saying it would never work. This method had never occurred to me. In the end, I think, the idea is so crazy and unusual that it might just work. When I finally got on the train to Moscow Johani saw me off. He hadn't handed out any cards yet but said he had to start immediately. He could possibly leave St. Petersburg without trying at least once. Best of luck, Johani. If it works I might give it a try next time. But watch out for their boyfriends.
So, as I leave for Moscow I take along a lot of fond memories of my first major stop and hope there will be many more to come.
St. Petersburg, or Piter as locals lovingly call it, is an exciting place to start a tour of Russia. There's a huge amount of impressions to gather and sometimes one pushes the other out.
The city itself is grand. Even far out of the centre streets are lined with imposing structures with turrets and pillars and iron sculptures. Sadly, a lot of the non-famous ones have started decaying. There are so many palaces that today many are just blocks of flats or offices with dark stair wells and gaping tunnels leading to shady backyards. I think if one day all this was renovated St. Petersburg would be a city of such grandeur that it would easily eclipse cities like Paris or Venice.
For reasons I detailed in this previous post I tried to be a bit selective about which attractions to enter. The Hermitage is well worth it. The Red and Gold Rooms are magnificent and the art collection from ancient Greece and Rome to 19th century is huge and comprehensive. Disappointingly, the Russian masters are found in a different museum and they closed before I could find the German section.
Peterpavlovsky Fortress I liked a lot - not so much the structure itself as the island in the Neva river from where it dominates the river. You get a great view of the opposite waterfront with the Admirality and the Hermitage. One evening they were performing choral singing here, so I stayed to listen. It spread a very sombre mood over the wind swept, darkening beach and reflected off the massive walls. I ended up sitting there long after the singing had stopped admiring the sunset. I took a photo for a very giddy young couple. I wonder why they were so happy.
The most interesting encounter by far was at the Ethnographic Museum. I wanted to learn a bit about Russian culture and ended up learning a lot more. In the Ukraine section I encountered a group of girls, art students painting the colourful national costumes. From the first time I dodged past their view one of them kept looking at me. They quietly giggled. When I tried to comment that I liked their work they didn't understand but a matron-like museum "guard" came over and started translating in broken English. She introduced me - interestingly she only ever introduced to me the girl that had been looking over, her name was Anya. She spoke neither English nor German but was very cute about it. Another girl, I was told, spoke some German but was too shy to try it. Then the matron asked if I had been to the Russian hall. Had I? Err ... Then she picked Anya and obviously told her to give me a tour. This produced a lot more giggling and the cutest of blushes. Off we went. For the next half hour or so we went through the Russian collection, talked at more than to each other communicating mainly through gestures and common words like "yes" and "no". She was from Rostov, art student of two years, here on a ten day practical trip. Had she painted this costume? No, but this and this one. She was proud to show me. I didn't want to keep her for too long since she was here to work and I said so. This is where the confusion started. She asked another matron to translate. This lady seemed even more eager to pair us up. What did I want from Anya, she urged. Did I want to go out with her? Did I want her phone number? Well .... That put me off a bit. Yes, the girl was very cute but I didn't want to seem like this was my only intention. I didn't want anything. Nothing, she translated (I think). That seemed to produce the wrong reaction. Gah! Wrong bloody emphasis! After a lot of other misunderstandings I let Anya return to her work. At least that was the right thing to do. The first matron appeared again and made her write down her phone number for me. More giggling, more blushing. The matron reminded me that Anya would have to work until 4 pm. Then I said goodbye. I found the situation so awkward that I didn't dare to go back until it was too late. "Girl bye-bye", the matron told me with an air of genuine disappointment. They really seemed to think I should have asked Anya out - on the most difficult date of our lives. I never did call her in the end. It would have been awkward with a translator on the phone. To this moment I wonder what was going on. Was she interested in meeting me or did she just go because the matron told her. Were the matrons trying to pair us up? Did they know something I didn't because of the language barrier? Should I have asked her out? Chestnuts, preciousss, chestnuts!
Update: Much later I was asked if I had ever had to rely on body language alone to communicate. Would have been interesting to try with Anya. Oh, well.
"Geschichten, die das Leben so schreibt", said Christian, a German guy I had met at the hostel warning me it was merely a phrase. He was in St. Petersburg for a language course. Very nice, generous chap. "Als Deutscher bist du hier der Chef", he also told me referring to meeting girls. As a German you're the boss here. He claims they really love German guys. I never managed to put it to the test.
I shared a room with him and a Finnish guy called Johani, who was also there for a language course. He had started a bold project. He wrote endless name cards in Russian with the intent to hand them to pretty girls on the metro. We dared him to try it saying it would never work. This method had never occurred to me. In the end, I think, the idea is so crazy and unusual that it might just work. When I finally got on the train to Moscow Johani saw me off. He hadn't handed out any cards yet but said he had to start immediately. He could possibly leave St. Petersburg without trying at least once. Best of luck, Johani. If it works I might give it a try next time. But watch out for their boyfriends.
So, as I leave for Moscow I take along a lot of fond memories of my first major stop and hope there will be many more to come.
Wednesday, 25 July 2007
Cha-ching, Baby
St. Petersburg, Russia
One thing about Russia that occasionally even spoils the fun of being here are the prices. I clearly underestimated the cost of the country. While not quite as expensive as UK or Germany it still eats a nasty hole into my travel budget.
Food is quite pricy while portions are disappointingly small. To give people a fair warning they write the exact weight of every dish on the menu. To get your 300g average portion you can easily spend Western European prices in even simple Кофе's. I've started buying bread and toppings now to save some money on breakfast at least. Hot meals are pancakes (called Блин) and jacket potatoes (called Картошка) - available from small kiosks, cheap and actually quite nice.
Then there are the sights. They really hurt. There are seperate prices for Russians and foreigners - quite officially even. There are two signs stating entry prices. The Russian sign normally features an additional block with low prices that doesn't figure on the English language one. Typically the Russian prices are about one third of the foreigner prices. I hear they are not even allowed to sell Russian tickets to foreigners even if they wanted to. Do foreigners see more or get a service Russians don't get? On the contrary: Many labels and explanations are only in Russian.
Photography also costs extra - sometimes almost as much as the original entry price. Fortunately, it's not always inforced. So, I make it a matter of honour to take pictures where I can to get the most out of my ticket. Ha!
I've actually tried cheating asking for one ticket in Russian. But then they ask something in Russian - probably a filter question - and blow my cover. Nuts! So, the normal price to pay is some 300 rubles, almost 10 Euros! Ouch!
So I'm trying to minimise my entries to the really unmissable ones - one per day. But even taking a piss at a public toilet - a damn port-a-potty - costs 10 rubles! At least they don't charge according to the type of your business ... yet.
One thing about Russia that occasionally even spoils the fun of being here are the prices. I clearly underestimated the cost of the country. While not quite as expensive as UK or Germany it still eats a nasty hole into my travel budget.
Food is quite pricy while portions are disappointingly small. To give people a fair warning they write the exact weight of every dish on the menu. To get your 300g average portion you can easily spend Western European prices in even simple Кофе's. I've started buying bread and toppings now to save some money on breakfast at least. Hot meals are pancakes (called Блин) and jacket potatoes (called Картошка) - available from small kiosks, cheap and actually quite nice.
Then there are the sights. They really hurt. There are seperate prices for Russians and foreigners - quite officially even. There are two signs stating entry prices. The Russian sign normally features an additional block with low prices that doesn't figure on the English language one. Typically the Russian prices are about one third of the foreigner prices. I hear they are not even allowed to sell Russian tickets to foreigners even if they wanted to. Do foreigners see more or get a service Russians don't get? On the contrary: Many labels and explanations are only in Russian.
Photography also costs extra - sometimes almost as much as the original entry price. Fortunately, it's not always inforced. So, I make it a matter of honour to take pictures where I can to get the most out of my ticket. Ha!
I've actually tried cheating asking for one ticket in Russian. But then they ask something in Russian - probably a filter question - and blow my cover. Nuts! So, the normal price to pay is some 300 rubles, almost 10 Euros! Ouch!
So I'm trying to minimise my entries to the really unmissable ones - one per day. But even taking a piss at a public toilet - a damn port-a-potty - costs 10 rubles! At least they don't charge according to the type of your business ... yet.
Tuesday, 24 July 2007
Girls, girls, girls
Russian women, now that is a chapter of its own. Really something to write home about.
They seem very spirited, very confident, they have an air, an attitude maybe.
The ones I see here don't walk but almost stride. They seem tough, like they know what they want and how to get it. Yet there is also a vulnerable side to them which comes out when they deal with guys that they are close to.
It strikes me that young women, even young girls, here pay great attention to their appearance. And a great many are stunningly beautiful. Not head-turners but the neck-breaking type! Very fit, slim, lean, with - as it seems - unending, slender legs and big, bright eyes. They just don't come in "fat", it seems. Some, especially older women, may get a bit plump or chubby but you rarely see any fat people.
What's more, they seem to love to dress in the tightest clothes they can get their hands on. It doesn't leave much to imagination sometimes but they have the killer figure to back it up. They don't only dress to impress, they dress to tease! Actually, I had the impression that when they catch you looking they even put a little more sway in their hips or bounce in their step. And that bounce is so hypnotic. It's hard to find somewhere else to look. Especially, when so many beauties choose the parks I visit for sight-seeing to sunbathe in the tiniest bikinis or even topless. I may have come here for the culture and sights but I end up looking completely the other way. I admit it - I am weak. So, sue me! I understand better now why some guys fantasise so much much about Russian women.
I heard they dress up like that, work on their appearance that much because there's a lot of competition. Good jobs can depend a great deal more on appearance here, my source tells me.
The final amazing thing is that they manage to wear the shortest skirts I've ever seen, squeeze themselves into some of the tightest outfits available without looking cheap. Some people may beg to differ but I'll maintain they have a style. Maybe it's in the way the carry themselves, the way they wear the stuff - it's sexy, very sexy, it catches the eye and arrests the attention (let alone the weak heart!) but it's not cheap. It's not the clothes that make them look good (a technique they tried vainly in UK), it's them that make the outfits look hot!
On the other hand, Russian men have to work hard for such partners. Every evening I see endless couples going for a stroll, she holding his hand and in the other hand a flower - or an entire bunch of them. Again, I am told this has tradition: a man has to buy his girlfriend flower, maybe every evening. There does seem to be a great regularity here. Makes me wonder where they take the money from. Yeah, where do we take the money from to afford girlfriends?! I guess, they know it'll be worth it.
They seem very spirited, very confident, they have an air, an attitude maybe.
The ones I see here don't walk but almost stride. They seem tough, like they know what they want and how to get it. Yet there is also a vulnerable side to them which comes out when they deal with guys that they are close to.
It strikes me that young women, even young girls, here pay great attention to their appearance. And a great many are stunningly beautiful. Not head-turners but the neck-breaking type! Very fit, slim, lean, with - as it seems - unending, slender legs and big, bright eyes. They just don't come in "fat", it seems. Some, especially older women, may get a bit plump or chubby but you rarely see any fat people.
What's more, they seem to love to dress in the tightest clothes they can get their hands on. It doesn't leave much to imagination sometimes but they have the killer figure to back it up. They don't only dress to impress, they dress to tease! Actually, I had the impression that when they catch you looking they even put a little more sway in their hips or bounce in their step. And that bounce is so hypnotic. It's hard to find somewhere else to look. Especially, when so many beauties choose the parks I visit for sight-seeing to sunbathe in the tiniest bikinis or even topless. I may have come here for the culture and sights but I end up looking completely the other way. I admit it - I am weak. So, sue me! I understand better now why some guys fantasise so much much about Russian women.
I heard they dress up like that, work on their appearance that much because there's a lot of competition. Good jobs can depend a great deal more on appearance here, my source tells me.
The final amazing thing is that they manage to wear the shortest skirts I've ever seen, squeeze themselves into some of the tightest outfits available without looking cheap. Some people may beg to differ but I'll maintain they have a style. Maybe it's in the way the carry themselves, the way they wear the stuff - it's sexy, very sexy, it catches the eye and arrests the attention (let alone the weak heart!) but it's not cheap. It's not the clothes that make them look good (a technique they tried vainly in UK), it's them that make the outfits look hot!
On the other hand, Russian men have to work hard for such partners. Every evening I see endless couples going for a stroll, she holding his hand and in the other hand a flower - or an entire bunch of them. Again, I am told this has tradition: a man has to buy his girlfriend flower, maybe every evening. There does seem to be a great regularity here. Makes me wonder where they take the money from. Yeah, where do we take the money from to afford girlfriends?! I guess, they know it'll be worth it.
Russians
St. Petersburg, Russia
A few observations about Russians.
Things I heard initially were things like "suspicious", "cold", "unfriendly". Fortunately, as it has turned out it's not at all that bad. People have surely not been as approachable here as in other countries I've visited. Some people seem a bit glum or dull just staring at you. Some don't smile easily, some seem rough or crude. The tone here is surely rougher. That may be a matter of language - I think if you don't understand it Russian can sound a bit unfriendly even if it's not at all meant in such a way. Also, generally, it doesn't appear common to bother with pleasantries as much as in UK for example - "hello", "good-bye" and "thank you" are optional.
However, my general experience has been quite positive. Obviously, I'm a bit helpless as a foreigner not knowing the language. But I've had a number of people even go out of their way to help me understand. Like the travel agent here who made sure that I found the correct place to collect my onward train tickets. Or the waitress/owner of the cafe that even fetched raw ingredients from the kitchen to clarify the menu for me. Without that I would not have had lunch that day.
Another thing here is that young Russians seem to hang out in threes. Plus most of the time it's a mixed group. Couples are an exception, of course, but even they often seem to have exactly one mutual friend along. I hear it's because a guy and a girl hanging out together is seen much more serious here than in western Europe. A friendly get-together between a boy and a girl are out of the question, especially if one of them is already taken. So, they need what the Chinese call a big bulb - a third person to ensure both behave appropriately.
Now, in summer, you see lots of these trios and also larger groups meet in the many parks bringing drinks to relax. I like the atmosphere; old and young, couples and friends chatting, laughing as if every evening was a weekend. I guess it happens in Germany, too, but here it seems different. It reminds me of France - just that the red wine is replaced with vodka. It's a nice way to spend the evening. So, I join people on Admirality Square to write these lines.
A few observations about Russians.
Things I heard initially were things like "suspicious", "cold", "unfriendly". Fortunately, as it has turned out it's not at all that bad. People have surely not been as approachable here as in other countries I've visited. Some people seem a bit glum or dull just staring at you. Some don't smile easily, some seem rough or crude. The tone here is surely rougher. That may be a matter of language - I think if you don't understand it Russian can sound a bit unfriendly even if it's not at all meant in such a way. Also, generally, it doesn't appear common to bother with pleasantries as much as in UK for example - "hello", "good-bye" and "thank you" are optional.
However, my general experience has been quite positive. Obviously, I'm a bit helpless as a foreigner not knowing the language. But I've had a number of people even go out of their way to help me understand. Like the travel agent here who made sure that I found the correct place to collect my onward train tickets. Or the waitress/owner of the cafe that even fetched raw ingredients from the kitchen to clarify the menu for me. Without that I would not have had lunch that day.
Another thing here is that young Russians seem to hang out in threes. Plus most of the time it's a mixed group. Couples are an exception, of course, but even they often seem to have exactly one mutual friend along. I hear it's because a guy and a girl hanging out together is seen much more serious here than in western Europe. A friendly get-together between a boy and a girl are out of the question, especially if one of them is already taken. So, they need what the Chinese call a big bulb - a third person to ensure both behave appropriately.
Now, in summer, you see lots of these trios and also larger groups meet in the many parks bringing drinks to relax. I like the atmosphere; old and young, couples and friends chatting, laughing as if every evening was a weekend. I guess it happens in Germany, too, but here it seems different. It reminds me of France - just that the red wine is replaced with vodka. It's a nice way to spend the evening. So, I join people on Admirality Square to write these lines.
Sunday, 22 July 2007
First Impressions of Mother Russia
St. Petersburg, Russia
Occasionally, I ask myself the question that I'll probably ask myself many more times. Was I mad? I don't speak Russian. I don't read Russian. I can't even order from a menu properly. What in the blazes am I doing in Russia?!
Pretty much every step at the moment is an adventure. Then again, that's what I set off for, right? An adventure. And people did call me mad. And never underestimate how far a few pointing gestures and a big smile get you. Not many people here speak English - not out of my sample, at least (only one so far, hostel staff).
Sadly, this led to the missed opportunity to photograph two cute girls who (as it turned out) actually asked me for it.
On the other hand, I'm slowly getting the hang of capital letters. Some are similar to Greek and Roman letters with the same sound. Some look the same but sound different. Others can be deduced. It's like a puzzle game but things are beginning to make sense:
КОФЕ=cafe, РЕСТОРАН=restaurant.
Something to be proud of (a little bit). (back pat)
At least here, as a foreigner, you appreciate every Anglicism in the language.
The area around the hostel is nice. ПАРК ПОБЕДЫ - Park Pobedy - is beautiful. Frequented by locals and very few tourists (since it's a bit out of the way) on this warm, sunny Sunday. They walk, row a boat across the little lakes or just sunbathe.
Then there's buildings. All built for size, all built to impress. Columns, tall windows. Sadly, especially in side streets, many are in a state of disrepair. It gives neighbourhoods a certain melancholic character. Old memories of grandness slowing eaten up by decay. One thing is for sure. Russians went all the way with their architecture and city planning. Everything is on a grand scale. From metro stations featuring domed ceilings and cast iron sculptures to main streets - prospects - with three plus lanes each way plus tram tracks in the middle.
I am impressed.
Occasionally, I ask myself the question that I'll probably ask myself many more times. Was I mad? I don't speak Russian. I don't read Russian. I can't even order from a menu properly. What in the blazes am I doing in Russia?!
Pretty much every step at the moment is an adventure. Then again, that's what I set off for, right? An adventure. And people did call me mad. And never underestimate how far a few pointing gestures and a big smile get you. Not many people here speak English - not out of my sample, at least (only one so far, hostel staff).
Sadly, this led to the missed opportunity to photograph two cute girls who (as it turned out) actually asked me for it.
On the other hand, I'm slowly getting the hang of capital letters. Some are similar to Greek and Roman letters with the same sound. Some look the same but sound different. Others can be deduced. It's like a puzzle game but things are beginning to make sense:
КОФЕ=cafe, РЕСТОРАН=restaurant.
Something to be proud of (a little bit). (back pat)
At least here, as a foreigner, you appreciate every Anglicism in the language.
The area around the hostel is nice. ПАРК ПОБЕДЫ - Park Pobedy - is beautiful. Frequented by locals and very few tourists (since it's a bit out of the way) on this warm, sunny Sunday. They walk, row a boat across the little lakes or just sunbathe.
Then there's buildings. All built for size, all built to impress. Columns, tall windows. Sadly, especially in side streets, many are in a state of disrepair. It gives neighbourhoods a certain melancholic character. Old memories of grandness slowing eaten up by decay. One thing is for sure. Russians went all the way with their architecture and city planning. Everything is on a grand scale. From metro stations featuring domed ceilings and cast iron sculptures to main streets - prospects - with three plus lanes each way plus tram tracks in the middle.
I am impressed.
You are now leaving the American sector.
Vainikkala, Finland
Crossing the border to Russia at Vainikkala. Not sure what to expect. This will be interesting.
They put me in a car full of damn American pensioners on what I think is their first trip to Russia - maybe even abroad! I can't believe how long it took them to fill in the migration card and how often the same people asked the same questions. Yes, the visa no. is the visa ID, for crying out loud! And they all sound like Dubya. Without my music - a bit of Jay Chou with Xandria trimming I'd go nuts. Funny thing is they really look like small-town folk look like in the movies.
The first half of the border crossing was disappointing. A very blonde officer hardly looked at my passport. Took me a while to realise they must be the Finns doing their exit check. I'm leaving EU! "You are now leaving the American sector."
Well, right now, I'm rather smack in the middle of it, it seems.
I hope I'll still get a stamp in my passport!
[...]
Ok, now for the Russian border check. They start by taking away everyone's passports and carrying them in bunches to the back of the train. They look more serious than the Finns did. Their colours seem more faded, closer to black and white. In the same way the countryside changes to look a bit more faded, maybe I even dare say rundown. The colourful Finnish farmhouses have disappeared and have been replaced with concrete and corrugated iron buildings. I hadn't expected the change would be so abrupt. It's clear that Russia has a very different character from Finland (and Europe).
[...]
Hooray, got my first stamp (and my actual passport back). The Russian officer calling my name pronounced it better than most other foreigners so far. It seems that we've been waiting this side of the border to give officers time to check every passport. Let's get on then. I want to see more of Russia. I want lunch.
Saturday, 21 July 2007
Finnish gulls know the game
Helsinki, Finland
When I tried to fool a seagull pretending to throw it food it hardly moved and then seemed to wink at me knowingly. As if to say "Spassvogel" (German for "very funny"). Finnish gulls know the game.
Helsinki is a nice place. Before I left someone told me it was an ugly, grey little town. Quite the opposite actually! It's very colourful with beautiful turn-of-the-century architecture. Of course, no older than that - Finland, Suomi, is a young country, only founded in 1915 when Russia lost its power over it (probably due to the revolution).
I like Helsinki. It seems so diverse and metropolitan despite its small size (only a cinema I haven't found yet). Finnish food is also nice. A hearty breakfast with fried potatoes, sausage and omelette (served by an incredibly cute Asian girl - should have asked her out!). For dinner I had an expensive but tasty reindeer stew.
The only downside is that things are quite pricy. 7 Euros for a breakfast!
And Finnish girls are so beautiful! Practically all really are blonde (naturally or otherwise). Really bright blonde, nicely curvy, mostly on the slim side and many have bright blue eyes. It's like looking into a fragment of the blue Finnish sky.
Despite high prices for beer and generally alcohol the Finns seem to drink a lot - that was a bit sad. A group of Finnish truck drivers spent practically the whole trip on the ferry drinking. At least they stayed civilised and didn't bother other people. But on a Sunday morning you can see the traces of massive beer consumption in Helsinki's streets. Signs I know too well from UK.
Still, it's a very clean city and feels safe.
People may be shy but friendly.
And even what I saw on a short boat tour around Helsinki convinces me that the countryside must be dazzlingly beautiful. Little houses by the lakes, private saunas by the water side for immediate access. Blue lakes and bays, lush green forest. Hendrik has the right idea - next time I'll come back with a bike and camping gear.
When I tried to fool a seagull pretending to throw it food it hardly moved and then seemed to wink at me knowingly. As if to say "Spassvogel" (German for "very funny"). Finnish gulls know the game.
Helsinki is a nice place. Before I left someone told me it was an ugly, grey little town. Quite the opposite actually! It's very colourful with beautiful turn-of-the-century architecture. Of course, no older than that - Finland, Suomi, is a young country, only founded in 1915 when Russia lost its power over it (probably due to the revolution).
I like Helsinki. It seems so diverse and metropolitan despite its small size (only a cinema I haven't found yet). Finnish food is also nice. A hearty breakfast with fried potatoes, sausage and omelette (served by an incredibly cute Asian girl - should have asked her out!). For dinner I had an expensive but tasty reindeer stew.
The only downside is that things are quite pricy. 7 Euros for a breakfast!
And Finnish girls are so beautiful! Practically all really are blonde (naturally or otherwise). Really bright blonde, nicely curvy, mostly on the slim side and many have bright blue eyes. It's like looking into a fragment of the blue Finnish sky.
Despite high prices for beer and generally alcohol the Finns seem to drink a lot - that was a bit sad. A group of Finnish truck drivers spent practically the whole trip on the ferry drinking. At least they stayed civilised and didn't bother other people. But on a Sunday morning you can see the traces of massive beer consumption in Helsinki's streets. Signs I know too well from UK.
Still, it's a very clean city and feels safe.
People may be shy but friendly.
And even what I saw on a short boat tour around Helsinki convinces me that the countryside must be dazzlingly beautiful. Little houses by the lakes, private saunas by the water side for immediate access. Blue lakes and bays, lush green forest. Hendrik has the right idea - next time I'll come back with a bike and camping gear.
In the Land of the Midnight Sun
Baltic Sea near Gotland, Sweden
I've missed voyages. Haven't been at sea for so long. Every time I realise how much I love the sea and being on a ship, at sea. It's one of the oldest ways to travel but hasn't lost this romantic charm. Today, because it's slower than trains or airplanes it makes you slow down with it. Normally, on a trip I want to be active, see things but here there was nothing to do (that wasn't horrendously expensive). So, I ended up spending almost all day on deck watching the endless blue sea meet the endless blue sky as the vessel plowed on towards the horizon. People said the Baltic Sea has rarely been this calm. The ship is our great, patient, untiring beast of burden.
It really allows you time to relax and switch off. I can't understand what people need mobile phones or all the on-board entertainment for. Why spend so much time in the lounge when you can sit outside and listen to the wind and the sea and the occasional gull?
Besides, I met a nice guy that I talked to a lot. A German arts teacher called Hendrik. Been Talking everything from the weather to the school syllabus to, of course, travelling. He taught me a bit about photography. And now, as the golden sun sinks into the Baltic Sea it'll soon be time to make use of some of that knowledge...
A magnificent day draws to a close. The sun sinks to its fiery death among shreds of clouds hinting at distant land. It blazes up one last time and darkness falls - or so I expect. But the twilight lingers. Even at one in the morning the glow in the west doesn't subside. It follows the course of the sun behind the horizon until it reappears again in the east. I've forgotten how far north I've already gone. I'm approaching the land of the Midnattsul - the Midnight Sun. And here's my first taste of it.
The sun that doesn't set. People speak a strange language that I can't place nor make sense of and girls come only in blonde - whether natural or not. Only 1000 km from home it seems that the world has changed completely.
I also learnt a few other things:
From Hendrik I learnt that teachers can be nice, normal people. One day his example will inspire me to cycle around Finland and Scandinavia, that I've decided.
From Marko I learnt how to swear in Finnish (which I won't repeat here). He's a programmer, if a rugged one, at Nokia/Siemens. He also told me how important it is for him to find his limits and that riding (balancing) a motorbike requires balance of the mind.
Finally, from Pekka, Marko's brother, I learnt that his name derives from an ancient Germanic word for god, Pekko. Might signify "made in god's image"...? And that to believe your god doesn't need a name if you believe in your heart. And I learnt that a man can be drunk all day.
It's been an eventful day. And admiring that hint of Midnattsul I feel privileged to be here.
Friday, 20 July 2007
The Good, The Bad and Deutsche Bahn
Rostock, Tallink Ferry
As if it had been a bad omen my train from Bonn was late. Only a bit. So, no worries.
Then, after a while I noticed a strange droning and vibrating coming from beneath our floor at high speeds. Apparently, I hadn't been the only one to notice because somewhere, I think Duisburg, they started checking the wheels making grave faces. Then they announced they had to reduce speed. Not good news on a train that was late 8 minutes at the time and me having a 30-minute window to conntect in Hamburg. We fell further behind. So, I asked. In Bremen we were whooping 65 minutes late. They advised me to change to the train to Hamburg an hour later - it had by now caught up with us. And, guess what, it was also late! And now I had a mere 8-minute window to connect in Hamburg. In short, we only made it because the conntecting train waited for us. Phew!
I arrived in Rostock one and a half hours late. And it really wasn't my fault! The shuttle bus to the ferry terminal had long gone. Only option now was a taxi.
To save Deutsche Bahn's honour at least a bit: they did pay for the taxi in the end.
I've got to say, considering that Germany is supposedly the country with the best infrastructure of the ones I'll visit, this is a poor performance. Even the cab driver said so. On the other hand, if this is any indication and it can only get worse I'm seriously worried. I can visualise myself having to get off the train in the middle of Siberia - to push!
On the upside: I did have my first pleasant travel encounter - a girl called Susanne. She was going to Bremen. A very nice, charming girl, training peadagogue for disabled children by profession. Very sunny mind set, laughs and smiles a lot. I told her about my trip and listened to her talk about her studies in Oldenburg, the recent death of her grandmother (here the conversation almost turned philosophical) and her boyfriend who went climbing in Nepal (who she worries about a lot). She said, I wasn't the only crazy guy around. "Let me give you a hug, backpacking globetrotter", she said as we parted on the platform in Bremen.
And then there was the old lady we shared the compartment with for a while. A regular in New York City where her son is married. His wife can't be arsed to learn German (why am I not surprised?). I did enjoy talking to her about New York and what a cool place it is.
So, despite difficulties I think this is a good start.
As if it had been a bad omen my train from Bonn was late. Only a bit. So, no worries.
Then, after a while I noticed a strange droning and vibrating coming from beneath our floor at high speeds. Apparently, I hadn't been the only one to notice because somewhere, I think Duisburg, they started checking the wheels making grave faces. Then they announced they had to reduce speed. Not good news on a train that was late 8 minutes at the time and me having a 30-minute window to conntect in Hamburg. We fell further behind. So, I asked. In Bremen we were whooping 65 minutes late. They advised me to change to the train to Hamburg an hour later - it had by now caught up with us. And, guess what, it was also late! And now I had a mere 8-minute window to connect in Hamburg. In short, we only made it because the conntecting train waited for us. Phew!
I arrived in Rostock one and a half hours late. And it really wasn't my fault! The shuttle bus to the ferry terminal had long gone. Only option now was a taxi.
To save Deutsche Bahn's honour at least a bit: they did pay for the taxi in the end.
I've got to say, considering that Germany is supposedly the country with the best infrastructure of the ones I'll visit, this is a poor performance. Even the cab driver said so. On the other hand, if this is any indication and it can only get worse I'm seriously worried. I can visualise myself having to get off the train in the middle of Siberia - to push!
On the upside: I did have my first pleasant travel encounter - a girl called Susanne. She was going to Bremen. A very nice, charming girl, training peadagogue for disabled children by profession. Very sunny mind set, laughs and smiles a lot. I told her about my trip and listened to her talk about her studies in Oldenburg, the recent death of her grandmother (here the conversation almost turned philosophical) and her boyfriend who went climbing in Nepal (who she worries about a lot). She said, I wasn't the only crazy guy around. "Let me give you a hug, backpacking globetrotter", she said as we parted on the platform in Bremen.
And then there was the old lady we shared the compartment with for a while. A regular in New York City where her son is married. His wife can't be arsed to learn German (why am I not surprised?). I did enjoy talking to her about New York and what a cool place it is.
So, despite difficulties I think this is a good start.
Thursday, 19 July 2007
D-Day
D for Departure Day. The big day I've been waiting and preparing for.
It's exciting. It almost feels surreal - I've been thinking about this, talking about this for so long it almost became a myth but now it is indeed happening. It hit home last night that I'll actually be leaving. Funny thing is that I'm leaving now that I'd almost got used to being t\at home. "Don't get stuck", a friend told me once. "Don't stay anywhere for too long." Here's to you, Hikaru!
Now, of course, sitting on the train to Rostock I have my doubts. Have I made the right decision? Will I regret doing this? Probably natural to think like this. What drives me on are the bunch of booked tickets and the thought that I'll regret it more if I don't do it now. As my Taekwon-Do teacher said to me: "Do it now while you're still young. Give yourp plans - whatever they are - 100%. If it still doesn't work out there's nothing to regret." On the whole, I've never received so many good wishes. And encouragement. And good advice. Thanks for all that! I really appreciate it.
I also go with a certain melancholy and a hint of sadness. I have to leave a lot behind. That's the price of travelling I suppose. You gain a lot of excitement and new experience but you always have to lose something else, leave something behind instead. Give and take. Can't have everything.
So, I bid a fond farewell to family, friends and home and I look forward to embracing the world.
A few quotes that come to mind:
Tolkien wrote a lot about travelling in his own way. His characters were globe trotters of a special sort. But the one that really hits the nerve for me is not he. It's actually Captain Jack Sparrow, the popular character from Pirates of the Caribbean. I'd like to make that the motto of this trip.
"Give me that horizon."
It's exciting. It almost feels surreal - I've been thinking about this, talking about this for so long it almost became a myth but now it is indeed happening. It hit home last night that I'll actually be leaving. Funny thing is that I'm leaving now that I'd almost got used to being t\at home. "Don't get stuck", a friend told me once. "Don't stay anywhere for too long." Here's to you, Hikaru!
Now, of course, sitting on the train to Rostock I have my doubts. Have I made the right decision? Will I regret doing this? Probably natural to think like this. What drives me on are the bunch of booked tickets and the thought that I'll regret it more if I don't do it now. As my Taekwon-Do teacher said to me: "Do it now while you're still young. Give yourp plans - whatever they are - 100%. If it still doesn't work out there's nothing to regret." On the whole, I've never received so many good wishes. And encouragement. And good advice. Thanks for all that! I really appreciate it.
I also go with a certain melancholy and a hint of sadness. I have to leave a lot behind. That's the price of travelling I suppose. You gain a lot of excitement and new experience but you always have to lose something else, leave something behind instead. Give and take. Can't have everything.
So, I bid a fond farewell to family, friends and home and I look forward to embracing the world.
A few quotes that come to mind:
- "It's a dangerous world, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road and if you don't keep your feet there's no knowing where it will lead you." - Bilbo Baggings in JRR Tolkien's Lord of the Rings
- "The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.
" - Hobbit walking song, JRR Tolkien
Tolkien wrote a lot about travelling in his own way. His characters were globe trotters of a special sort. But the one that really hits the nerve for me is not he. It's actually Captain Jack Sparrow, the popular character from Pirates of the Caribbean. I'd like to make that the motto of this trip.
"Give me that horizon."
Monday, 16 July 2007
A Word on Visas
In one word: painful. Sadly, they're still a necessity for many countries I will pass through. I think only now I fully appreciate the trouble my Chinese friends have to go through every time they want to travel abroad - especially to Europe or the US. But let fairness be served: Europeans can face the same sort of trouble. You just have to pick the right countries.
Russia is such a one. It has always been complicated - that, so I've read, is a hangover from Soviet times. Thus, normal processing times were long, fees high and there were (and still are) some extra loops to jump through. To apply for a Russian tourist visa you need to present an invitation. This consists of an confirmation of the official invitation issued by a company licensed in Russia and a voucher covering your pre-booked accommodation in the country. There are countless websites that can explain this better than I can; here is one of them. Then, the traveller also needs evidence of a travel health insurance policy with a local insurance company recognised by the Russian embassy. They publish a list and nothing other than those on the list will be accepted.
All this has now become more complicated after Russia recently changed its immigration policies. This was apparently done to simplify entry for certain groups of people, e.g. students on an educational trip now don't require a visa. The net result was, however, that things became a hell of a lot more complicated for everyone else. There is no more express processing. The application takes a minimum of 10 up to 30 days and cannot be made earlier than 30 days in advance. If you require other visas afterwards the general attitude was described as "tough shit". Yaay!
Now Mongolia is expensive but at least simple while China was described as the only country that really adheres to the processing times they advertise.
To make things more interesting you can't just apply for a visa anywhere. The Russian visa can only be applied for at the regional consulate which, fortunately, is Bonn. The nearest Chinese consulate is in Frankfurt - already a bit further afield. The Mongolian visa can only be applied for at the embassy in Berlin.
So much for doing the visas myself. The only options would be to travel to the respective offices (the expensive option) or doing a postal application (insecure). So, I decided to employ a visa agency which handles everything for you - for an additional fee of course. Looks like the convenient, no-hassle option? So I hoped but see what happened to me:
The one I chose was called Visum Zentrale, based in Bonn. It was even recommended to me. So I went there, filled out all the forms and told them I needed the three countries by 19th July. Then I watched one of their staff generously calculating the time it would take on the calendar. "No problem", he said, "there's plenty of time. You'll have it back by around 13th of July." So, I happily left matters in their hands.
The Russian embassy was first and only took a day or so longer than expected. Still lots of time left. Then, almost a week later I got a call from their office in Frankfurt and a high pitched female voice asked me for details about my Chinese visa. That was a bit unsettling - what had they been doing for a week? Well, ok, still got more than two weeks. A week later I had what I think is the same high pitched voice on the phone. It was highly urgent, everything was finished and could they get the passport back to me as fast as possible. A bit confused but vaguely happy I agreed to an over-night courier. When I opened my passport the next day I couldn't find any trace of a Mongolian visa. A phone call brought clarity: the operator had overlooked it but there was still time. They would send another courier on the same day and make an express application - at no additional cost for me. Now I was getting worried and angry; there was only one week left! But off went the passport on the same day, accompanied by more than one prayer.
Today, I called them to check up on the process. The passport was only submitted today because the embassy was closed. They will try to get it back by tomorrow but cannot guarantee it. Did they know my departure day was Thursday? Yes, but still they can't guarantee it. Well, then I won't be able to guarantee payment. By now I've spoken with the Mongolian embassy directly, people were very friendly and patient and confirmed to me the visa was done and ready. It seems it's now only a matter of sending a courier. You'd think the agency won't manage to screw that up. I'll never hear the end of it.
So, now it seems that the very day of my departure is in jeopardy real good old Hollywood style. Cliffhangers and all.
At least, one thing I'll take away from this and I'd like to pass it on to you:
If you need visas done in Germany avoid Visum Zentrale! And don't believe their talk of "no problem"!
And in German:
Falls Ihr Visa benötigt und nach einer verlässlichen Agentur sucht, die die Anträge kompetent in die Hand nimmt, sucht woanders. Vermeidet die Visum Zentrale. Das Gerede von wegen "kein Problem" war für mich nur Rauch.
Russia is such a one. It has always been complicated - that, so I've read, is a hangover from Soviet times. Thus, normal processing times were long, fees high and there were (and still are) some extra loops to jump through. To apply for a Russian tourist visa you need to present an invitation. This consists of an confirmation of the official invitation issued by a company licensed in Russia and a voucher covering your pre-booked accommodation in the country. There are countless websites that can explain this better than I can; here is one of them. Then, the traveller also needs evidence of a travel health insurance policy with a local insurance company recognised by the Russian embassy. They publish a list and nothing other than those on the list will be accepted.
All this has now become more complicated after Russia recently changed its immigration policies. This was apparently done to simplify entry for certain groups of people, e.g. students on an educational trip now don't require a visa. The net result was, however, that things became a hell of a lot more complicated for everyone else. There is no more express processing. The application takes a minimum of 10 up to 30 days and cannot be made earlier than 30 days in advance. If you require other visas afterwards the general attitude was described as "tough shit". Yaay!
Now Mongolia is expensive but at least simple while China was described as the only country that really adheres to the processing times they advertise.
To make things more interesting you can't just apply for a visa anywhere. The Russian visa can only be applied for at the regional consulate which, fortunately, is Bonn. The nearest Chinese consulate is in Frankfurt - already a bit further afield. The Mongolian visa can only be applied for at the embassy in Berlin.
So much for doing the visas myself. The only options would be to travel to the respective offices (the expensive option) or doing a postal application (insecure). So, I decided to employ a visa agency which handles everything for you - for an additional fee of course. Looks like the convenient, no-hassle option? So I hoped but see what happened to me:
The one I chose was called Visum Zentrale, based in Bonn. It was even recommended to me. So I went there, filled out all the forms and told them I needed the three countries by 19th July. Then I watched one of their staff generously calculating the time it would take on the calendar. "No problem", he said, "there's plenty of time. You'll have it back by around 13th of July." So, I happily left matters in their hands.
The Russian embassy was first and only took a day or so longer than expected. Still lots of time left. Then, almost a week later I got a call from their office in Frankfurt and a high pitched female voice asked me for details about my Chinese visa. That was a bit unsettling - what had they been doing for a week? Well, ok, still got more than two weeks. A week later I had what I think is the same high pitched voice on the phone. It was highly urgent, everything was finished and could they get the passport back to me as fast as possible. A bit confused but vaguely happy I agreed to an over-night courier. When I opened my passport the next day I couldn't find any trace of a Mongolian visa. A phone call brought clarity: the operator had overlooked it but there was still time. They would send another courier on the same day and make an express application - at no additional cost for me. Now I was getting worried and angry; there was only one week left! But off went the passport on the same day, accompanied by more than one prayer.
Today, I called them to check up on the process. The passport was only submitted today because the embassy was closed. They will try to get it back by tomorrow but cannot guarantee it. Did they know my departure day was Thursday? Yes, but still they can't guarantee it. Well, then I won't be able to guarantee payment. By now I've spoken with the Mongolian embassy directly, people were very friendly and patient and confirmed to me the visa was done and ready. It seems it's now only a matter of sending a courier. You'd think the agency won't manage to screw that up. I'll never hear the end of it.
So, now it seems that the very day of my departure is in jeopardy real good old Hollywood style. Cliffhangers and all.
At least, one thing I'll take away from this and I'd like to pass it on to you:
If you need visas done in Germany avoid Visum Zentrale! And don't believe their talk of "no problem"!
And in German:
Falls Ihr Visa benötigt und nach einer verlässlichen Agentur sucht, die die Anträge kompetent in die Hand nimmt, sucht woanders. Vermeidet die Visum Zentrale. Das Gerede von wegen "kein Problem" war für mich nur Rauch.
Background
(Repost of an entry to my other blog Wisearses and Worriers which I've updated a bit and include here for completeness)
Only three and a half days to go until my plans are finally set into motion. And now I'm beginning to feel the weight, the impact of what I'm about to do.
Technically my whole trip started almost two months ago in the small town of Woking in Surrey, United Kingdom, where I was working at the time. I quit my job, that was the first step. I left UK and I'm now back in my home country of Germany to make the necessary preparations.
I've been wanting to leave Britain for a while now, anyway. So, I decided to do something with the money I've earned other than settle down and have a family (something that, scarily, some folks my age have already done - good on them). I decided to stop working for a while and do what's gone into popular culture as a gap year. Or as I prefer to think of it: "gap time". Committing to a year one way or the other seems silly. The money might run out before or it might last a month longer.
But what to do with all that time? Here's how the dream evolved.
Obviously, like most people that do this kind of thing, I wanted to travel. I've been wanting to do that ever since, after finishing university, I wasn't sure what to do with my life. A common question, I hear. Then, my girlfriend said to me "why don't you do a gap year?". At the time I didn't know what exactly that was but she explained patiently and I listened. And almost immediately ideas started popping into my head of seeing far-away places, leading a free life of some adventure, not knowing where I might wind up next week. There was only one big disadvantage to the plan: it would cost money. A whole lot of money! A considerable amount of money. Well, you get the idea. And after being a student, kindly sponsored by my parents, the amount I could scrape together from savings was just about enough for the trip back home from campus and a pizza for dinner. Thus, the choice between a gap year and work was an easy one. Work.
But the idea was sowed and it grew on me. Sometimes it wasn't easy being patient - like in the song by AC/DC: "it ain't no fun waiting round to be a millionaire". A couple of times I announced my plans to my friends but somehow I couldn't let go, didn't have enough money and just stayed. Several times I got frustrated with my work and was tempted to throw things away and just go and see how far I got. Still, somehow under all that ranting and pipe-dreaming the idea managed to keep me focused and determined enough to hang on. In the end, of course, people stopped believing me saying I'd never actually do it. Sometimes I myself thought I wouldn't, that I'd got too attached to my life in UK despite my strong dislike for the place.
And so several (how many? Three?) years went by but some time around my last birthday this January something audibly went "click". I realised I had said it would be this year like I had said it would be last autumn and last spring. I had never really made the move to do anything about it. Now was the time. Either leave now or admit I was stuck in UK. So, the decision was made. Now was the time.
Which brought me back to the original question: what to do with all that time?
After being to China and Malaysia I wanted to see more of East Asia. China and Southeast Asia are natural choices for backpackers because of rich culture and low prices. Of course, I dream of finishing off Asia with a visit to Japan or Korea. So, get a Round-the-world plane ticket? Well, after my trip to China last year I had told myself the next time I went there it would be by train. Not because I hate flying that much but rather because I love going by train, travelling old-school-like. I used to do it a lot as a child, loved watching the scenery go by. And on my trip to China I discovered that you can meet some interesting people on the train, as well. The Trans Siberian railway then. I had even met two Swedes who had done it and loved the experience. That was it then. And I wanted to see a good friend in Beijing for the May holiday.
So, it was that I almost rushed off in a great hurry in March. Fortunately, I came to my senses in time to realise that what I had planned there - to leave UK and be off to China within little more than a month - was impossible. Rushing though countries like Russia and Mongolia, just seeing them fly by the train windows would be very foolish, too. So, I delayed and rethought things again. I also wanted to improve my Chinese when I returned to China to be able to communicate in the country I wanted to spend most time in. I had also had the fantasy of actually *living* in Beijing for a while and seeing the local perspective of the place. How better to fulfill these requirements (and in a useful way) than to study there, to learn Chinese. Universities and language schools offer short-term courses, say one semester. Bingo! That was it.
Thus hatched the final draft, the design that is now about to be set into motion. It would be stupid to rush through a country as big and culturally rich as Russia so I will spend three weeks there. Make the most of your visa I say. This is followed by some two weeks in Mongolia. That country has lots of natural sights which are difficult (and expensive) to get to when you're alone. After that I start my studies in Beijing, which will take until end of January next year. After that things become a bit more fuzzy. I want to spend a few months travelling in China, north to south and east to west. Then cross the border to Vietnam, going on to Cambodia, Thailand and Malaysia spending about two to four weeks in each country. Finishing line is in Singapore where I'd then like to look for a job.
My favourite part is that I will do this trip without setting foot on a plane, travelling half-way around the world the old style, by train and by coach. I'm also doing a slightly different kind of gap year to many people who only *start* in China. The way is the goal.
This goal is to see and absorb as much as I can of people, countries, details and at the same time find a clearer idea of what I want, find myself in all of it. Sounds like a cliche? Probably is. Better not read too much into it yet. For now I'm just beginning to look forward to one hell of a ride.
Only three and a half days to go until my plans are finally set into motion. And now I'm beginning to feel the weight, the impact of what I'm about to do.
Technically my whole trip started almost two months ago in the small town of Woking in Surrey, United Kingdom, where I was working at the time. I quit my job, that was the first step. I left UK and I'm now back in my home country of Germany to make the necessary preparations.
I've been wanting to leave Britain for a while now, anyway. So, I decided to do something with the money I've earned other than settle down and have a family (something that, scarily, some folks my age have already done - good on them). I decided to stop working for a while and do what's gone into popular culture as a gap year. Or as I prefer to think of it: "gap time". Committing to a year one way or the other seems silly. The money might run out before or it might last a month longer.
But what to do with all that time? Here's how the dream evolved.
Obviously, like most people that do this kind of thing, I wanted to travel. I've been wanting to do that ever since, after finishing university, I wasn't sure what to do with my life. A common question, I hear. Then, my girlfriend said to me "why don't you do a gap year?". At the time I didn't know what exactly that was but she explained patiently and I listened. And almost immediately ideas started popping into my head of seeing far-away places, leading a free life of some adventure, not knowing where I might wind up next week. There was only one big disadvantage to the plan: it would cost money. A whole lot of money! A considerable amount of money. Well, you get the idea. And after being a student, kindly sponsored by my parents, the amount I could scrape together from savings was just about enough for the trip back home from campus and a pizza for dinner. Thus, the choice between a gap year and work was an easy one. Work.
But the idea was sowed and it grew on me. Sometimes it wasn't easy being patient - like in the song by AC/DC: "it ain't no fun waiting round to be a millionaire". A couple of times I announced my plans to my friends but somehow I couldn't let go, didn't have enough money and just stayed. Several times I got frustrated with my work and was tempted to throw things away and just go and see how far I got. Still, somehow under all that ranting and pipe-dreaming the idea managed to keep me focused and determined enough to hang on. In the end, of course, people stopped believing me saying I'd never actually do it. Sometimes I myself thought I wouldn't, that I'd got too attached to my life in UK despite my strong dislike for the place.
And so several (how many? Three?) years went by but some time around my last birthday this January something audibly went "click". I realised I had said it would be this year like I had said it would be last autumn and last spring. I had never really made the move to do anything about it. Now was the time. Either leave now or admit I was stuck in UK. So, the decision was made. Now was the time.
Which brought me back to the original question: what to do with all that time?
After being to China and Malaysia I wanted to see more of East Asia. China and Southeast Asia are natural choices for backpackers because of rich culture and low prices. Of course, I dream of finishing off Asia with a visit to Japan or Korea. So, get a Round-the-world plane ticket? Well, after my trip to China last year I had told myself the next time I went there it would be by train. Not because I hate flying that much but rather because I love going by train, travelling old-school-like. I used to do it a lot as a child, loved watching the scenery go by. And on my trip to China I discovered that you can meet some interesting people on the train, as well. The Trans Siberian railway then. I had even met two Swedes who had done it and loved the experience. That was it then. And I wanted to see a good friend in Beijing for the May holiday.
So, it was that I almost rushed off in a great hurry in March. Fortunately, I came to my senses in time to realise that what I had planned there - to leave UK and be off to China within little more than a month - was impossible. Rushing though countries like Russia and Mongolia, just seeing them fly by the train windows would be very foolish, too. So, I delayed and rethought things again. I also wanted to improve my Chinese when I returned to China to be able to communicate in the country I wanted to spend most time in. I had also had the fantasy of actually *living* in Beijing for a while and seeing the local perspective of the place. How better to fulfill these requirements (and in a useful way) than to study there, to learn Chinese. Universities and language schools offer short-term courses, say one semester. Bingo! That was it.
Thus hatched the final draft, the design that is now about to be set into motion. It would be stupid to rush through a country as big and culturally rich as Russia so I will spend three weeks there. Make the most of your visa I say. This is followed by some two weeks in Mongolia. That country has lots of natural sights which are difficult (and expensive) to get to when you're alone. After that I start my studies in Beijing, which will take until end of January next year. After that things become a bit more fuzzy. I want to spend a few months travelling in China, north to south and east to west. Then cross the border to Vietnam, going on to Cambodia, Thailand and Malaysia spending about two to four weeks in each country. Finishing line is in Singapore where I'd then like to look for a job.
My favourite part is that I will do this trip without setting foot on a plane, travelling half-way around the world the old style, by train and by coach. I'm also doing a slightly different kind of gap year to many people who only *start* in China. The way is the goal.
This goal is to see and absorb as much as I can of people, countries, details and at the same time find a clearer idea of what I want, find myself in all of it. Sounds like a cliche? Probably is. Better not read too much into it yet. For now I'm just beginning to look forward to one hell of a ride.
Prologue
Hello and welcome. Willkommen. Bien venue. Huanying. Selamat datang.
Welcome to what I hope will become a log book and journal of a trip which will take me some 10,000 miles halfway around the world. Traveling from Bonn, post-war capital of Germany on the river Rhine, to the ancient trade port and modern financial hub city of Singapore.
The only rule in this is simple: No aerial shortcuts allowed. I'm going every kilometer of the way the old-fashioned way, by coach, train or boat. I want to see and feel the distance I'm traveling.
Once I set off I don't know how regularly I can post here but I'll do my best.
So, stay with me and watch this space.
Welcome to what I hope will become a log book and journal of a trip which will take me some 10,000 miles halfway around the world. Traveling from Bonn, post-war capital of Germany on the river Rhine, to the ancient trade port and modern financial hub city of Singapore.
The only rule in this is simple: No aerial shortcuts allowed. I'm going every kilometer of the way the old-fashioned way, by coach, train or boat. I want to see and feel the distance I'm traveling.
Once I set off I don't know how regularly I can post here but I'll do my best.
So, stay with me and watch this space.
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