TranS Siberian Train

+ a bit of Eastern Europe on the side

Oct/Nov 2018
My trips start when I leave the front door of my house. That’s the moment I
leave my house and enter ‘the zone’. That happy place where the
anticipatation mixes with adrenline to create a barrowful of energy and
excitement. I love my journeys, and this one is going to be a wopper.

A few days in Beijing, before commencing the trans-mongoloan/trans-

sibberian train trip through to Moscow, with a side serving of Eastern Europe
just to gt my country count up a bit.

I closed the front door on Wednesday morning (10/10/18) at 6:15am with my

loaded tramping backpack and a daypack (that weighs about the same) and
head by foot to the Waikanae commuter train. I assimilate into the great
squadron of commuters, though I can’t help but think that my trip home will
be quite unlike anyone elses today!

I have a day’s work to put in, before catching a flight in the early afternoon to
Auckland where I catch up with Helen, Chris and Rebekah, Kesiah and Kiarah
at the New Life conference.

The conference is awesome, great speakers, great music (Helen is awesome),

but that could be the subject of a separate diary.

A day’s work and conference are sub-plots to the main storyline, which for me
gathers pace once again when Andrew Weakley picks me up at 3:30am from
my Auckland hotel. It’s a huge day (+) of travel. From Auckland to Brisbane
(Virgin Airlines). Brisbane to Singapore (Singapore Airlines). Then Singapore
to Beijing (Singapore Airlines). Thanks, Webjet. Great price, $550 per person,
one way but 2 stopovers makes for a wasting trip.

There were nervous times during the flight to Singapore as we’d been
delayed over hour at Brisbane, and we only had a 1 hour 20 min in Singapore
before our Beijing flight, but the pilot must’ve put the after-burners on or
there was a massive tailwind or something because we easily made our
connecting flight.

I like the flights where you suddenly realise that you are the minority. The
flight to Beijing was definitely like that. The babble becomes
incomprehensible and there is a touch more chaos which always makes me
snigger a bit. Us whiteys are a little more ordered and structured, but I like
observing the slightly higher level of chaos that comes with a planeload of
Asians.

We hit the immigration queue in Beijing. It looks like our planeload from
Singapore has arrived at the same time as an Emirates planeload from the
Indian subcontinent somewhere. It’s like the United Nations of cultures all
lined up together to try and convince the Beijing customs officials of their
worthiness to enter into the Chinese promised land.
There is the collection of fingerprints (for what purpose China
I have no idea). The scanners/screens that collect the
fingerprints are incredibly dirty and smudged and I
question whether they will accurately record anyone’s
fingerprints correctly, or whether they will just be an
amalgam of everyone’s print into one.

I try to post something to Facebook while standing in

the queue on the free airport WIFI, but true to form, it
doesn’t go through. China have somehow blocked Population: 1.4 billion
most forms of Western social media. China is 40 times larger
than NZ.
We withdraw cash from an ATM and we catch a taxi There are 292 languages
(it’s 1am in the morning) to our hotel which is very spoken in China, though
close to the Beijing Railway station. Our taxi driver Mandarin is spoken by 70%
does not know English and despite having the hotel of the population
name/address in Chinese, he gets exacerbated, when
we get to the general area of the hotel, but we can’t immediately find the
hotel. However, weirdly just as the driver is embarking on another round of
exacerbation, we look up to find ourselves right outside the door.

By my reckoning we have been travelling for about 26 hours non-stop from

the Auckland hotel to the Beijing hotel, and apart from a little bit of head-
banging, with very little sleep. There was only 2 hours of sleep the night
before in Auckland given the last night of conference/early start.

So, I am shattered.
Beijing - Sunday 14th
October.

Despite a total lack of quality

sleep in the last few days, I am awake about
6 am and start my diary for the day before.
Andrew disappears down to the hotel
reception to see if he can sort out the Wi-Fi.

We head out about 8:30 am-ish. The hotel is really

conveniently located just next to the Beijing Railway
station which means it is 5 minutes to the hustle and
bustle of a reasonably vibrant community of shops and
banks and traffic and street sweepers and people
wandering about their daily business.

Speaking of banks, it was Andrew’s turn to get some

cash out. Unfortunately, the machine gobbled up his card. His
only card. Oh…dear. Surprisingly, given it is a Sunday, a security
guard pointed to a sign saying the bank opened at 9am, so we
only had a few minutes to wait before talking to a very helpful
‘Lobby Manager’ who advised that we could come back on
Tuesday (we are going to the Great Wall on Monday)
to pick up the card. They should be able to retrieve it
by then. Dang. Not a great start to the day!

Nervously, I tried my card at the same ATM, with no

issues.

We head off to the metro station where we purchase a

metro ticket each with a reasonably healthy balance on
it, so I doubt we will need to top it up, and we head
off to Tiananmen Square and the Forbidden City. We are actually
only about 4 stations away from the Square, although we do have
to change lines once. It’s all fairly easy to be honest.

We emerge from the bowels of the metro onto a footpath next to

the square and join the long queue of people going through a
security check/X-ray machine scan of bags just to get to the Square
proper. This is the first queue of many through
the day. In fact, if there are 1 billion people in
China, I think I will have seen at least half those
heads from behind by the end of the day. We are
also required to show our passports at least 3-4
times throughout the day. It’s a reminder that this
is a ‘big brother’ culture, but no-one seems to
outwardly object. I sense a certain amount of
conditioning going on.
The Square itself is enormous. It is the
largest public square in the world,
although the size is greatly reduced by
security fencing and restricted places you
cannot go. There are a couple of
significant things that are immediately
noticeable. Firstly, there is a gigantic pot
of artificial flowers on display in the
middle of the square. The pot is marked,
‘1948 – 2018’ to celebrate
the 70th anniversary of the
birth of the Communist
state. There are displays
of flowers and floral
arrangements at regular
spots all over the Square.
The other thing to notice, rather sadly, is the size of
the queue to see Chairman Mao who is on display in a
Mausoleum at one end of the Square.
That queue is the Mother of all queues. It disappears
down one end of the square (seriously as far as the
eye can see in the smog, before winding its way back
and across to the actual building where it is located.
The queue is not 1 person wide either. I would
estimate there is 1-2 kms of people queueing 4-5
people wide. The Mausoleum is only open between 8
– 12 and I had been quite curious to see the person
that clearly had such a huge mark on World history,
but I don’t like my chance of getting in if I join the
queue at 10 (ish) if it closes at 12 noon… so sorry Mao, not this time.

The Square is packed with tour groups and school groups and tour leaders
shouting out their facts and figures in a variety of tongues. Most tour groups
wear a common hat. Most tour leaders are holding an aerial with a flag
fluttering in the gentle breeze.

I find it strange that there are also a lot of Norwegian flags sharing flagpole
space with the Chinese flag. Perhaps there is a Norwegian delegation in
town?

We had expected it to be a little warmer, the forecast had said it would be

around 20C, but it was certainly more around the 10C mark (it is Autumn),
though it does heat up later in the day when some of the cloud dissipates.

The smog creates a level of greyness to all the scenes. I know through the
miracles of technology I will be able to compensate for the air pollution, and
everything will look clear and crisp in the photos, but seriously the smog is
quite thick and causes some irritation on the back of my throat. I’m also
reasonably snotty. As you walk, you occasionally note gollops of spit on the
pathways, in fact at one point a lady hoicked a massive phlegm ball right in
front of me… just what you do I guess… when in China, do as the Chinese,
etc…

We head across the road to the Forbidden City where we join the throng of
tourists that pass underneath Chairman Mao’s portrait, through the front
gate/tunnel and out into the first courtyard.
It is the first courtyard of
many. The Forbidden City is
quite amazing. The colours
are mostly vibrant red (with a
smog-tinged grey dampening
the vivid red down a bit),
awesome blues and yellows
adding the detail of a million
craftsmen. Andrew is
impressed by the symmetry
with buildings on either side

of a theoretical middle line reflecting the

other side.

We struggle to find a place to buy

tickets. Most people are able to
purchase online via a QR reader, but neither
Andrew or I have internet connectivity yet. In
one corner of a Square we find a very little
non-descript building where very officious
guards are trying to dissuade people from
joining a smallish queue (by Beijing standards)
to buy tickets. Clearly, they are directing
people to purchase on their phones, and most
people are complying… I note most people in
the smallish queue are foreigners by the look
of it. The 60 Yuan (approx. $NZ 13) fee is paid
and the ticket is a virtual ticket which is loaded against your passport number.
Then back to the main queues of people where the lady types in your
passport number to see that you have actually paid your entrance fee. Most
visitors just have their identity cards scanned which confirms the fee has been
paid. This is the same identity card that the locals had to swipe at the
Tiananmen Square security check. There must be huge databases linked to
the local Identification cards.
I noted the sign over the window next to the windows where we got served
read “Comprehensive Service Window”. I’m not sure what they do at that
window, but I was happy with the service I received and couldn’t really think
of how it could be any more comprehensive other than to think they could
serve some Coca Cola with maybe sausage rolls? I think that would be a bit
more comprehensive.

I am mostly interested in people-watching to be honest. I’ve been here

before with Harry, 10 years ago (?), and it is certainly impressive, but I find
the huge number of people just flowing through the enormous complex the
most interesting thing of all. I take a few time lapse videos which I think
make swarms of people look like armies of ants.

I’m not sure what else to say about the

Forbidden City. It is very impressive. The front
part is where the affairs of business were
conducted and the back half where the
Emperors’ affairs were
conducted. He had an army of
concubines by the sound of it.

Andrew made comment on the

health and safety aspects (good
and bad) of the paving crew
that were re-paving a section of
one of the courtyards. It must
be a mammoth job maintaining
the City… but with a gazillion
people paying 60 Yuan ($NZ
12) in entrance fees every day,
the City must be generating a
HUGE amount of revenue.

After an hour or 2 we
were at the end of our
tour. We didn’t get
either a guide or an
audio guide… We
meandered, we read
the signs that we
wanted to read, and
that was that.

It is certainly a must-do when in Beijing, but you know when you are done
with the crowds and the same/same (as magnificent as it is) and time to
move on.
We turned right in the direction of the Wangfujing Street which I remember
to be where the main Western-style shopping area was located, in particular,
given it was lunchtime, there would be great food options.

We walked past a lady tout for a restaurant who beckoned us in, probably a
bit flash-er than I would’ve chosen myself, but hey… I was ready to EAT.

We had Peking duck and some pork ball things, - delish!

Hitting the street once more we found the Wangfujing Street area and came
across what sounded to my ear to be a Mongolian music group. We listened
to a few tunes. The music was great, the female singing, bearable.

We found Snack street located off to

the side that includes an endless array
of weird food options. Scorpions,
squid, grubs, and other animal options
I’m not sure I recognised. Given we
had already eaten we agreed to come
back for dinner.

I found a shop to connect my phone,

and then we agreed to head back to
the hotel for a rest before returning at
night.
We head back on the metro 3 stops (1
connection) to Snack Street. It is now heaving
with people. A mix of hungry adventurers and
curious onlookers (put me down for both) scan
the offerings on either side of this alleyway.
The place is packed with tourists, I doubt
there are many locals here.

Andrew starts with a spring roll. Actually, it’s

more like a spring log, it’s huge. We eat
various other items, nothing too weird, before
heading off for Gourmet Street, which is like
an underground food court a hundred metres
away from Snack Street that I discovered on
my last trip to China. This offers more
realistic meal options, let’s face it, nobody
actually has scorpions for dinner.

We are on the hunt for a dessert, but the

offerings are slim. Andrew settles for an ice
cream in a cone. But at the same stall, there
are some plasticised desserts on display that
look like mountains of multicoloured vomit.
Being a curious kind of guy, I thought I’d get
me one. Google translate helped me
determine what some of them are, - e.g.
Pineapple, Blueberry, one translated as “two
lovers”, so I thought I’d skip that one! There
was one that did not translate… so that’s the
one I got.

It quickly became apparent that I made a

wrong choice. The mountain of shaved ice
was covered in sauces and powder which
turned out to be strawberry flavour but then
out came the beans. Now beans are ok in the
right context, but on top of a strawberry
shaved ice mountain, I’m not so sure… but
dang it, given I’d paid 12 Yuan (slightly over
$NZ2), I’m going to eat it. So, I did. I’ll
probably pay for it
in the morning.
We head back to
the hotel, 4
stops/1
connection and I
enter a blissful
sleep.
25,000 steps today.
Beijing, Monday, 15th October 2018

Big day today, something that in my head I know will be a highlight, - the
Great Wall of China.

I’d been to the wall twice before, the first time was amazing, Harry and I had
walked from Jinshaling to Simitai, and we’d hardly seen a soul on the day we
did it. Ten years ago, I had been in awe of “I am actually walking on the
Great Wall of China”. The sense of grandeur has stuck in my memory ever
since. I was determined to come back one day, but at a different time of
year. Ten years ago, I visited in the March month, this is now autumn. Back
then the scenery was brown and barren (still very impressive though). I
could tell that the trees were soon to bud, and things would then explode in
colour, but I never got to see it. This time around I expect trees to be orange
and red/autumn colours.

The Jinshanling track has been closed halfway, so for this morning I have
arranged a ‘self-guided’ 10km hike from Jiankou to Mutianyu. We get picked
up from our hotel at 7:30am and will be returned back sometime between
4:30 and 6:30 pm.

Bring it on.

Excited.

The car ride was interesting. It

took a while to get out of Beijing, it
seems to sprawl forever, but the
distance from the centre of Beijing
was correlated with an increase of
speed on the motorway. Our driver
did not speak English. He also
drove with only 1 hand and would
drift within his lane and
occasionally outside his lane as
well.
Speaking of lanes, they seem to be flexible. Not India flexible, there is some
indicating, and courtesy shown to other drivers, but not rigid like a Western
country. Cars weave in and out and undertake, but the trip generally ‘feels’
safe. There is a healthy variety of car makes and models, European,
American, Chinese, it is certainly the UN of cars.

We hit the countryside and then nice resort-looking towns and villages, all the
time going up and up and up. The mountains would look spectacular but for
the grey clouds that eventually turn to drizzle. It’s like the grey clouds are
just perpetuating the same visibility conditions that you get in smoggy
Beijing; however, the air is definitely cleaner.

After about 2 hours we pull into a town where our driver parks and we are
off.

The first part of the climb up to the Wall was steep. Andrew surprises me
with a cracking speed. I do my usual slow and steady. The drizzle has
largely stopped but the cloud is lingering. The trees, which are nice autumnal
yellows, greens and kind of reds are fresh
from the downpour. The rocks on the track
are slippery.
There are many groups on the track,
different nationalities, different languages
and different speeds.

After an approximate hour climb we get to

the Wall where our driver says goodbye.
The main structure of this part of the Wall
seems strong, but the condition of the Wall
is far from good, which gives it a cool sense
of OLD. This part of the Wall dates back to
the 1400s, though it had an upgrade in the
1600s (apparently). It is well overdue the
next upgrade me thinks.

However, there is this strange dichotomy,

upgrade, and it would seem to lose its
authenticity as an ancient relic. Don’t
upgrade it and it will disappear quite quickly
with the thousands of visitors clambering all
over it.

Me for one, I am happy with the non-

upgrade nature of the Wall before me.

We head off on the well-worn path that

weaves through the vegetation that has
grown up on the top of the Wall.

It is a health and safety nightmare, and I’m

cool with that.

This track includes a very tight uphill/downhill inverted

“U” shape up 2 opposing ridgelines. I think I read
about this being called the ‘coiled dragon’. We nibble
some lunch near the top of the inverted “U” before
starting the descent.

At some point we reach the Mutianya people. These

are the people that will start and end at Mutianya.
There are hundreds of them. To their credit they are
walking up some VERY steep steps, we are simply
descending.

The track around here has been upgraded. There are

rubbish bins, security cameras, lightning rods, and silly
signs all over the place.
By this stage, Andrews initial uphill burst of speed has reduced somewhat to a
more measured speed as the pounding of the descent on his knees and feet
starts to take its toll.
We eventually get to the point where we need to make a decision about
descending back to the carpark by cable car, toboggan (though someone tells
me that is closed) or walking. The cable car seems the most sensible option
given the circumstances, so we join the queue in the rain… everyone by this
stage is very keen to get off the mountain. After probably half an hour in the
queue we get to the front only to find that we should’ve bought the ticket in
the window BEFORE getting into the queue. We push back against the queue
to the window next to the front of the queue, buy our ticket and then force
our way back into the queue. I know there were some people thinking that
we had just pushed in, but I know the truth!

We connect with our driver at the designated point (‘Subway’ restaurant) and
we hurriedly return to Beijing. I say hurriedly because our driver is
messaging a lot on WeChat, so I think he has a social engagement to get to.
We arrive back at our hotel by 5pm. Which is
great because we are due to meet my friend
from work Jessie and her husband, who just
happen to be in Beijing at the same time as
we are, for dinner. Given Jessie and Stephen
are locals, they have arranged to meet us at
a great Peking Duck Restaurant.

We eat a LOT. There are too many dishes to

remember, but there is Duck blood, Wasabi-
something, Duck liver, potato in the shape of
a rabbit sitting on a tiger and Rice that is set alight. I am
in foodie heaven.

It’s great to talk to Jessie and Stephen about Beijing and

China in general and get some insight into what it is to be
Chinese in NZ, reasons for leaving China and raising their
son Edison in NZ, why Stephen travels on a NZ passport
but Jessie does not etc…
After a fantastic night with a fantastic couple,
Andrew and I return via the metro to our hotel
and we are in bed and asleep by 10:30pm.

Over 21,000 steps for the day. Today was about

being on the AWESOME Wall and enjoying
AWESOME food. It really has been a great day.

Good night.
Beijing, Tuesday, 16th October 2018

Last full day in China.

I get up early to go see the dawn flag-raising ceremony in Tiananmen

Square.

I’m using the subway like a boss now and get there in what I think is plenty
of time. I emerge from the underground to see running squadrons of tour
groups. I’m thinking it’s on like donkey kong, so I pick up my pace and fall in
line with the hordes moving in one direction.

After 5 minutes though, I’m thinking, why can’t I see the Square? Solution to
this conundrum comes like a revelation from heaven – I am heading in the
wrong direction. Not sure where everyone is going in such a rush, but I
battle against the tide and head back in the direction of the Square.

Lesson – don’t follow the crowd even if there are a plethora of tour group
leaders yelling into their microphones to urge their charges forward at great
haste.

I’m finally back at Tiananmen Square. I navigate the security checks, the
security fencing which directs you in a particular way, cross the road, avoid
getting trampled by the trillions of excited Chinese, but my heart sinks to see
the red flags fluttering in the breeze. I have missed it.

I have a theory. I know dawn is at 6:40 am. Mr Google told me so before I

left NZ. I was there in time. My theory is that they don’t actually know when
dawn is. Firstly, it is not like the sun actually breaks through the smog at any
point of the day, so “dawn” is just a theoretical construct to them. Secondly,
the Chinese government have banned Google, so it’s not like anyone can
check when the scientific time for “dawn”
actually is. Therefore, they just randomly march
out to the Square and raise the flag at any ole
time. (just a theory).
Slightly disappointed, but still
amazed at the sights I see around
me. There are a million people (no
exaggeration, I counted them all)
in the Square most of whom are
arranged in tour groups. The tour
groups are generally defined by a
hat. There are groups of red hats,
yellow hats, blue and white hats.
There are caps and sloppy hats. It
is truly a magnificent sight to be
seen. And they don’t mind
queueing and standing in orderly
lines. There is clearly a lot of excitement in the air… and I see a LOT of
activity building around the queue area for the Mao Mausoleum. It opens at
8am. It is about 6:45 am, and the queue is already equivalent to the
population of Kapiti.

I take photos. I take photos of people taking photos. But I admit defeat.
Objective, - watching the flag raising ceremony – has not been achieved. I
head back to my hotel picking up some Coke Zero along the way for
breakfast.

We slowly emerge from the hotel,

Andrew has a batch of washing hung
out to dry. We head for the bank, -
Andrew had a text message to say he
can pick up his credit card, and after
an hour wait, he is reunited with it.

While he is waiting I go across the

street to check on things at the
railway station, where to go tomorrow
etc… There are half a million people
(I counted) in the plaza immediately
in front of the railway station, milling around, yelling, laughing, smoking,
walking, jostling, getting in each other’s way, dragging suitcases and
packages, looking confused, taking photos, taking selfies and just generally
enjoying being in the plaza.

I note I cannot actually enter the railway station because you have to show
your ticket to get into the station. I watch and observe and wonder who on
earth I can ask to check if this is the right place when I spy a man with a
bright red sash and a megaphone. [Chinese officials and tour guides love
megaphones. The rest of the world have forgotten the beauty of a
megaphone blaring across a hundred eardrums, but the art of megaphone
yelling is alive and well in China!].

I decide if anyone can confirm that I am in the right place (just a day early),
it will be him. I show him my ticket and gesture to the queue, there,
tomorrow. He seems to understand, yes, here, tomorrow he repeats after
looking at my ticket.
I shall trust the man with the red sash and a megaphone.

Andrew has completed the credit card collection ceremony and we are off.

My brother Peter recommended the Fragrant Hills Nature Park given it is

autumn. Apparently, the trees are a magnificent red colour at this time of
year. We shall see.

We are taking a little bit of a gamble, because Fragrant Hills is not on the
tourist map that we have, although it is written in the border to the map, as if
it is just a centimetre or two away from being on the map. I have given
myself instructions to catch the “Western Suburbs Line” from an earlier
Google search, and that line does not exist on the subway map that we have?
So, with all the uncertainty of Christopher Columbus sailing to the edge of the
world, we head off to the edge of the tourist map.

The furthest we had travelled via metro was only a few stations, this time we
stay on for over an hour. It is literally the other side of Beijing (actually our
hotel is in central Beijing, so I mean its half of Beijing away!).

The ‘Western Suburbs Line’ does exist but it’s called something different
starting with an “X”, and you actually have to leave the station and re-enter
another station. This line starts taking you through a more rural type setting,
this line has the Botanic Gardens and a stop at the Western Gate of the
Summer Palace. Fragrant Hills is at the very end of the Line, and in-front of
some very tall hills (Andrew reckons they should be named the Himalayas.)

The signage is not particularly awesome for people that don’t know squiggle
language, but we follow the steady flow of people upwards, grabbing a
sausage for lunch along the way.

Fragrant Hills is a really nice place, and the sun peaks through in our honour.
It seems to be where Beijing-ers come out to relax. We play spot the white
face, which I win, only near the end of our time in the park. So, a family of 4
white faces out of, say, 1 million Chinese people at the Hills, and it’s a
Tuesday. No idea how many people there would be on a weekend or public
holiday.

Anyway, the autumn/red leave thing is, I would estimate, about 2 weeks
away. There were some trees who had early adopted their red robes, but
most were yet to turn. But the Beijing-ers were hugely impressed by the
early-adoptees. Pose, pose go the Beijing-ers and click, click go the cameras.
In NZ there is a smartphone epidemic, people glued to their small screen.
Selfie-taking is an addiction rooted in a social media obsessed society, in NZ.
But in Beijing, it is at different level. These guys make NZers look like smart
phone beginners. You can be in a packed carriage where EVERYONE is on
their phone. It is amazing how widely and deeply the addiction is in China.
The highlight of the trip to Fragrant Hills is a trip up the mountain in a Cable
Car. At 100 Yuan ($NZ22) each way, it’s kind of expensive, BUT, the view,
especially given the sun is now out, is spectacular. Although Beijing is under
a thick veil of smog, and visibility is grey-ified. You get a grasp of how truly
enormous Beijing actually is. It seems to sit 180 degrees before us, as far as
the eye can see to the left and as far as the eye can see to the right. There
are pockets of large residential complexes nestled close to the mountain on
which we stand, but I assume further growth close to
the mountain is unlikely, given the undeveloped
patches must contain the Botanic Gardens, Summer
Palace, Old Summer Palace etc…
There is a Buddhist temple in the Hills but there is an entrance fee and…nah…
can’t be bothered.

We agree to check out the Summer Palace given it had a gate on the same
line as the Fragrant Hills.

The Western gate is the other side of the Palace grounds from where most of
the Palace buildings are located.
However before long we come
across a tout for a water taxi
company that shoots us across one
lake, with a short 10-20 metre
walk to another lake where we are
taken to one end of the main
Palace building area. There are
another million people here (I
counted them). But here there are
a good proportion of white faces among the crowds. Clearly whiteys don’t
know about Fragrant Hills, but they do know about the Summer Palace.
It is a long but pleasant walk from one end of the
main building part of the Palace grounds to the
other, but it’s very relaxed, in the trees, in the sun,
the sun casually setting in the west. The organised
tour groups are back with their team hats and
exuberant tour guides.

We stay for the sun set before jumping back onto

the Subway to head home via Wanfujing Street first
for dinner. We go to Gourmet street where I go for
a pork wonton soup for a starter followed by a duck
and noodle stir-fry in a tomato-base sauce type dish.
Delish. I eat like a Chinese emperor.

We spend almost all out last Chinese money…

Andrew buying a necklace, myself buying 3 bottles
of Coke zero for tomorrows trip before heading back
to the hotel to pack. I shall leave Beijing with 2
Yuan in my pocket, - about $NZ0.40.

Over 30,000 steps today.

‘Best T-shirt in Beijing’ award goes to “First Beagle

on the Moon”, spotted on a shop attendant.

‘Worst attempt at doing your job in Beijing’ award,

every attendant scanning people filing through the
subway security checkpoints. They just wave their
scanning wand from a distance of a metre and a
very poor attempt to pad you down for weapons etc.
Their effort is appallingly pitiful, and yet they go
through the motion with every person filing through
their security checkpoint. They must do the same
action a million times every day, yet they wouldn’t
spot a suicide bomber even if he were naked except
for the bomb with a flashing neon light over his head
with a marching band going before him playing the
Afghani national anthem. They look that bored,
doing their job totally on autopilot!
First day Trans-Siberian Railway, Beijing to Ulaan Bator, -
Wednesday, 17th October 2018

Very bad nights’ sleep.

Mosquitos buzzing. We figure they came in on Andrew’s washing that had

been hanging outside all day and we only pulled it in when we got home at
night.

I got one, he left a rather large blood stain on my nice white bedsheet. My
blood. Dang it. Andrew got 2. There were others.

The alarm went off at 5:30am as we’d agreed to hit the road by 6am, to give
ourselves plenty of time for the 7:27am departure. Our hotel was only 10 -15
minutes’ walk away from the Beijing Railway Station.

We passed through security

checks and found the
waiting area relatively easily.
We pondered if having $0.40
to our collective names was
a wise decision, we pondered
whether the restaurant cart would
take credit card or not, we
pondered until the queue formed in
front of the gate and then it all
happened rather quickly and nicely.

I quickly walked around the station to find a money

machine/bank, and did find one, proudly stating “24hr bank”
in big letters. It was closed.

The train attendants were lined up by their door, we found

carriage 9 and were shown to our cabin 3 (even though it
has Roman numerals “II” on it. Roman numerals “III” had
already been occupied by a scary looking Russian dude so I
think the Chinese attendant just ushered us into “II”. I
don’t want to spark a diplomat flashpoint.

With Chinese efficiency, the train starts its

forward movement at exactly 7:27 am.

We are on our way.

We are travelling first class for this
section. That means we get a little cabin
with a seat and 2 bunk beds, the higher
one can drop down or can be pushed up,
out of the way. There appears
to be a shared shower facility,
and the toilet is a shared one
at the end of the cabin. I think
the attendant is in “I”. He has
a radio playing most of the
trip.

We spot the hotel and room

that we stayed in during our
time in Beijing as we slowly
ease out of the station.

This is the proverbial ‘dream

come true’ for me. I’ve been
thinking of the Trans-Siberian Railway
ever since I heard about it as a kid….
And I’m here, doing it.

Beijing is enormous, and the sprawl

goes on forever. Other high-speed
trains come and go… this is not one
of them. This gently rocks you in a
rhythmically pleasing sway. Andrew
estimates we’re hitting 70km per hour
on the outskirts of Beijing.

Not too far away from Beijing we hit the

mountains and the tunnels. On the other side
of the mountains things get very brown and
dry. Andrew has a theory that the Mongols
probably wanted to invade the green and lush
Beijing side of the mountains for food purposes,
because their side tended to be twin-tone, -
blue sky and brown ground.

The thing that strikes me, is how sparse things become out in the
countryside. When you think China, you think 1 billion+ people, but you
forget that geographically, China is enormous.
Given so much of the population is
concentrated in the cities, that leaves
large expanses of not a lot going on.

The train passes through occasional

towns, the housing in those towns
varies a bit, some have nice flash
Highrise apartments, some crumbling
hutong-style rows of housing (with a
slight ‘Coronation Street’ feel to them).

The occasional town and the occasional

grouping of houses that we pass by
indicates humans, but we see
surprisingly few humans. Andrew
suggests they are probably all inside
their homes playing Play Station or
watching tv.

The mountains give way to brown plains

that stretch into the distance, and being
a very nice blue-sky day, you can
actually see into the distance.

There are occasional farmers in their

paddocks. Occasional sheep herders, a
herd of cows or 2, but not a lot of animal
farming going on. Lots and lots of
sweetcorn remains, clearly harvest has
been and gone. In one field I saw a
man with an ass and plow furrowing the
field while in a field literally next door to
him, was a man on a nice red tractor
doing the same job. In fact, in that
same general area, I saw 4 other nice
shiny red tractors also furrowing fields.
Clearly the local tractor shop has just had
a good deal on shiny red tractors
recently.

The fellow passengers are an interesting

mob. I have a good chat with an Aussie
lady from Perth who complained that
they have better Asian food back home
than she had in her travels in Asia to
date. She and her husband were travelling around the world for a year.
Another dude we sat at lunch with was Peruvian but had been living in the US
for 40 years. He takes a significant 6-month
holiday, now he’s retired, every year. He’s
full of stories. There is a couple of young
guys from Singapore that are not getting off
the train, travelling non-stop from Beijing
direct to Moscow (7 days).

Just when we thought we were going to

survive on NZ muesli bars and the dried
squid and packaged duck wing Andrew had
bought from a shop for the Great Wall trip
(but never actually eaten), the attendant
drops off a Lunch voucher and a Dinner
voucher. I’d forgotten about the free food!

We are allotted a half hour time for lunch

and dinner, you miss your time you miss the
meal. With high expectations we head for
lunch. We get delivered a small plate of
cauliflower heads, a bowl of rice and some
capsicum chopped up. Five-star Michelin it
ain’t…. but it’s free, so I can’t complain.

We head back to our cabin and eat some

dried squid and muesli bars.

Through the morning it’s a little coolish on the

train, but once the sun starts cranking through the
window, things warm up very nicely. Not sure what
it will be like tonight though… cold me suspects.

We stop in the very large looking city of Jiningnan,

precisely on schedule, where they swap out the
engine. Not sure why. We stroll the platform,
making sure we are back onboard in time for the
train to head off, again, precisely on schedule.
The border between China and Mongolia
approaches around 8pm. All good, passports out, a
grumpy Chinese guard drops by each carriage,
checks passports and documentation. Asks me to
remove my glasses because my passport photo
doesn’t have glasses on. After this initial check we
are free to wander the platform for about 15
minutes before being ushered back onto the train.

Erlian (the border town on the Chinese side) at

8pm is cold, but I’m prepared with all my
Kathmandu gears. The station is lit up with flashy
neon and there is soothing music playing over the
station sound system. Clearly, they want to leave
you with a good impression of their country.

But this stop is for 4 hours plus. The railway gauge

in Mongolia is wider than the railway gauge in
China, so they haul the carriages into a shed, jack
up each carriage one by one, remove the Chinese
undercarriage and install the Mongolian
undercarriage, all while the passengers are (mostly)
blissfully unaware. Andrew is fascinated, and I
shall claim a moderate level of interest myself.

I am most curious about our status during this

process. We have left China, but not yet entered
Mongolia. And on this point, we go to sleep.

There is a lot of commotion in the corridors.

Sounds like the Mongolian army have invaded.
Knock, knock on each of the cabin doors, clearly,
they started at the other end of our carriage.
Eventually it’s our turn. I’m still half asleep. They
do the necessary documentation check… it must be
a pain for them to wake everyone up… it’s 1 o’clock
in the morning for goodness sake. Who set the timetable for this trip?

Back to sleep fairly easily, knowing that I am now in Mongolia.

Second day Trans-Siberian Railway, Beijing to Mongolia
Ulaanbaatar, -Thursday, 18th October 2018

We wake in time for the sunrise, after an eventful

night. Mozzies, the night before, Chinese and
Mongolian officials last night… One hopes tonight will
be a little more uneventful.
Population: 3 million
Mongolia is 6.5 times larger
I make my way to the end carriage and take what I
than NZ
think to be awesome photos out the back window of
Currency: Togrog (MNT)
nothingness, but a rail track. I note as I move between
Mongolia is known as the
carriages it’s CHILLY! But in the carriages the
"Land of the Eternal Blue
temperature is rather nice, due to the coal fired heating
Sky" or "Country of Blue
system that provides hot water for noodles and
Sky"
perhaps some type of radiator system throughout the
carriages. I’ve also noticed the restaurant cart has
been swapped (probably at Erlian) to a Mongolian cart with fancy wood
carvings etc…
The landscape very rarely changes from brown speckled grass, a wire fence
that goes forever and blue sky. There is the occasional evidence of human
habitation, occasionally herds of horses, cows, camels and goats… but VERY
occasional.

At each station that we pass through, the station master comes out as the
train passes and holds up what looks like a yellow baton. It doesn’t seem to
have any purpose, perhaps symbolic? In China I noted that the station
masters came out with red flags, most of them had a Perspex box to hide
behind as the train whooshed passed. The world is a funny place.

We arrive into Ulaanbaatar at 2:30pm. It’s been fun. One of our 4 trips on
the Trans-Siberian is now complete.

The primary objective when we disembark is to find an ATM and get some
local currency in our pockets. We find a busy bank with people converting
money, ATMs aplenty and a throng of people doing business, some of whom
are keen to secure us as their taxi fares.

Andrew tries his card with a lot of trepidation given his Beijing experience.
The machine kind of does this weird freeze thing… he immediately gets his
card back. I try mine… weird freeze thing happens on my card as well…
getting nervous… I’m thinking through possibilities when Mr security guard
notices our anguish and takes me over to counter lady. Counter lady comes
out from behind the counter and we try my card again. This time at the
screen where it freezes, she pushes the “Accept” button on the machine,
rather than the “Accept” button on the screen… it works.

Lesson – You just need to know, which button to push, and which button
does nothing!

So, with a pocket full of cash… 500,000 Togrog, which was the maximum we
could get out in one go, we hit the street. We have decided to walk to our
hotel (Toto Hotel) given we have been scrunched up in a small cabin for the
last 36 hours.

The pavements are in a bad state and there clearly isn’t the same level of
care and attention given to the aesthetics here as there is in Beijing.

We navigate our way through the streets in the general direction of our hotel,
knowing it’s on “Peace Avenue” and just as we were about to head left onto
Peace Ave, we notice the hotel sign on our right…
Booking.com list Toto Hotel as 2 stars.

[From the roadside that seems generous. BUT, I

am proved wrong when we are actually shown to
our rooms. Spacious, comfy bed, clean, functional
bathroom, - two thumbs up from Ian.]

Reception guy has reasonably good English. He

signs us in, old school, not a computer in sight.
We present our Booking.com printouts but he
doesn’t seem to have a record of it anywhere.
Anyway, we show him the agreed price and I
think we get a great deal… 2 rooms for 2 nights
for about $NZ 130 in a pretty good hotel with free
breakfast.

We ask him about going out to the Genghis Kahn

statue tomorrow, about 60 kms out from
Ulaanbaatar, and says his brother has a car…
great, another deal done!

We check out our rooms, briefly re-acquaint

ourselves with the internet before heading out
once more to pick up our tickets for the next leg of
the train trip. My instructions are to pick them up
from a travel agency marked
on a map I printed out, not far
from our hotel. We head off,
again thankful for the
opportunity to walk again.

Finding the travel agency

proves difficult. Signage is
bad. We are heading down residential roads, that
don’t look commercial, starting to get a bit peeved,
when we almost accidently come across a sign for a
different travel agency, which ends up being the
same one… People, does it really need to be this
difficult?

With money, accommodation and train tickets now

all sorted, - it’s time for food!

Retracing our steps, we come across some food

places that are enterable by descending some stairs
below footpath level. We choose one. For the
equivalent of $NZ 6.60 we have a fantastic meal
each with a soda. I’m gonna LOVE this place.
Andrew’s was a pancake filled with meat, and mine
was large dumplings. Both had additional side bits
and pieces, delish.

We head back to the hotel for an hour or so, to

more properly re-connect with the world, before
heading out for a good walk up Peace Avenue, which
is clearly Ulaanbaatar’s main street.

There are a large number of pubs and places

offering Karaoke. I remember 10 years ago Beijing
had a HUGE number of Karaoke bars, yet this time
around I don’t think I noticed a single one. I
wonder if I come back to UB in 10 years’ time
whether they’d be gone from here too.

The signwriting in shopwindows is Cyrillic and

listening on the footpath to snippets of
conversations of people passing by I note the
Mongolian language sounds to me a bit more
Russian than Chinese. Someone later on confirms to
me that Mongolia is more of a friend to Russia than
China… interesting, given the Mongolians look a lot
like Chinese to me.

There are also a sizeable number of Korean

restaurants and Korean shops, one of which we stop
at to increase our food supplies for the next train leg.

We walk a long way to Sukhbaatar Square, the main square in UB. It has a
similar feel to Beijing’s Tiananmen Square with soviet style buildings around
it’s flanks.
By now it was dark,
but we noted the
traffic was still very
busy and showed no sign of abating.

At one end is an illuminated statue of

Chinggis (Genghis) Kahn and some of his
buddies. In the middle of the square is
Sukhbaatar on his horse. Sukhbaatar is
the man how led the revolution against
China in the 1920’s. According to
Wikipedia. “The current statue of
Sükhbaatar upon his horse was created in
1946…. and is located on the spot where
his horse allegedly urinated during a rally
on July 8, 1921, shortly after the victory of
the 1921 revolution. Sükhbaatar's horse
urinating was seen as a good omen and a
marker was buried on the spot by a man
called "Bonehead" Gavaa.
Marshal Khorloogiin Choibalsan (who
participated as a simple worker during the
cementing process of 1946…..) had the
marker dug out and chose the spot as the
place of Sukhbaatar's
statue.

We started to head back,

but, feeling a bit peckish, I
convinced Andrew of
having a second dinner, although the earlier meal could be described as a late
lunch. I’d seen a good-looking spot to eat when we were walking to the
Square and sure enough the food was spectacular. I choose the national
dish, Khorkhog, which is very tenderly
cooked mutton. It was served with
which seemed like a sheet of pasta and
various vegetables. Absolutely fantastic
and filling.

We head back to our hotel very

satisfied.
Ulaanbaatar, -Friday, 19th October 2018

We start the day with our breakfast that is included

as part of the price we paid for the hotel, cheap as it
was. We get bacon eggs, bread, banana, apple…
way more than I ever eat for breakfast.

Back to the room to tidy up a bit before meeting up

at 8:30 with reception guy, reception guy’s brother
and reception guy’s brother’s girlfriend. (I try to
memorise their names as Baggy, Oscar (with some
really weird pronunciation in there somewhere) and
Ninda).

We head off. Traffic is bad. It takes forever to get onto a main road out of
UB, but once we do the countryside becomes very picturesque. The road
hugs the Tuul river for a while. The Tuul river feeds into (eventually) Lake
Baikal in Russia.

I am pleased to see some snow in shaded patches by the roadside.

Apparently, it snowed a couple of weeks earlier and those patches of snow
had lingered for the last 2 weeks, an indication that temperatures never really
hit more than 0-10 degrees.

The drive to the Chinggis Kahn statue is

interesting, the road is concrete but the
joins in the concrete are in very poor
condition. Andrew, being a roading
engineering, believes this is a result of the
harsh weather conditions and the poor
concrete joints continually
expanding/contracting in the
cold/warmth.

The housing we pass by is a mix of Ger

(Yurts) and western-style houses. Some
properties have both. Most properties
have a little building located in a far
corner, I presume this is the toilet facility.
The Mongolians also seem to love fences.
In fact, the further out into the
countryside you go, fences just seem to
mark off random/empty plots of land in
the middle of nowhere.

The statue eventually comes into sight

looking like a bright shiny silver toy
horseman on the horizon. You only truly
get an understanding of its size when
you pull into the carpark. (which by the
way is mostly empty)

Chinggis Kahn is sculpted in stainless

steel, weighs 250 ton, is 30 metres tall
and sits onto a 10m tall building which
also includes some really interesting info
on early Mongol culture and ger (yurts).
The statue is in the Guinness Book of
Records as being the world’s largest
equine statue.

Added bonus, - inside

the building is the
world’s largest boot!
At 9m tall it has also
been recognised by
the Guinness Book of
Records. A helpful
attendant gives as
the facts and figures
in broken English.

We take a tour of a
museum in the basement of the complex. It has
a lot of the history of the Khans and quite good
wax figures of Chinggis and his sons.
The real highlight of this visit is getting to climb up the stairs between
Chinggis’ legs and emerge atop the horse. Fantastic view! Blue sky and
brown terrain in every direction.

There is another statue visible from the top a few hundred metres away.
That one is apparently Chinggis’ mother but is not yet complete or open to
the public.

I walk the perimeter of the statue on a pathway which is poorly

maintained. Given this statue is only 10 years old, and clearly the
result of some significant investment, they don’t seem to care
about the presentation on the outside. I had noticed the main set
of steps up to the building entranceway was in VERY poor
condition. Andrew points out our hotel is the same, - very nice on
the inside, but very ugly and unappealing on the outside.
Mongolia just don’t seem to care about outward appearances.
Hmmmm….

Baggy has been talking about visiting some horses

after our visit to the statute, so we oblige. Baggy
actually grew up in rural Mongolia and lived the
nomadic life in yurts as a kid, and apparently helps
out at a ‘camp’.

So, we drive a little further on to a small collection

of yurts that seem to be managed by an old man all
by himself. Baggy is keen to show us the way leather straps are stretched
and hardened and the various bridles and things that are made from that
leather. A couple of times herds of horses go by on the way to the river for a
drink.

We also attempt archery and I climb a nearby hill which gives fantastic 360-
degree views, - blue sky/brown terrain in every direction. But there is a wind
whipping through, so I head back down.
We jump in the car and head off to a ‘National Park’,
a picturesque area with the river gently flowing
through the brown terrain against a backdrop of blue
skies. There are amazing rock formations embedded
into the side of the mountains, some gigantic rocks
just seem to be sitting on top of other cliffs waiting
for someone to kick them over. IF/when that
comes, the consequences would be devasting for
any people caught in their path.

We take an unsealed side road that is clearly a well-

worn tourist road, with yurt camping grounds on
either side of the road with hotels scattered around
the place, and some hotels being built. This is where
the tourist dollars are supposed to come, I guess?

We stop at a big rock

shaped like a tortoise.
Baggy and I climb. There is
a small hole in the rock that
a fat boy like me can only
just squeeze through. For a
moment there I wonder if I
will get stuck there forever.

On the other side of the hole

is a great vantage point to
look out across the valley.
We descend via the hole
which Baggy gleefully videos
for me. The Bible verse,
“through the eye of a
needle” comes to mind.

We re-join the others and head further up the valley

to a Buddhist temple.

As a Christian I get a bit oojy-boojy about visiting

other religion’s temples, but after a few “protect me
Jesus” prayers I’m off.

We climb past many signs that teach the philosophies

of Buddhism, many of which are indeed wise sayings.
But half of them are not understandable or closely connected to the religious
aspect of Buddhism which twists in my gut.

About half way up is a spinning wheel which you can spin that gives you a
number between 1 and 150. The number you get then corresponds to a
personalised message that you can read on the signs in the
next part of the climb. I read some of them and they seem
either dubious or general or weird… A variant on fortune
telling by spinning wheel.

We reach the temple, which is halfway up the mountain

and I am pleased to see there are no monks blessing
people with wet hyssop or chanting mantras or whatever.

The prayer wheels for people to spin their prayers to

heaven are on either side of the building. We go in for a
look. It is a colourful interior and there are paintings on
the wall of the heroes of the Buddhist faith.
 The view from the temple is
impressive, but it is time to
go down (via the communal
toilet facilities) … yuck…

We head back in the car to

the city where Baggy leaves
us as he is heading back to
work.

On the way they stop and

let me get out to photograph some yaks that are grazing in a field nearby.
These animals have a ferocious looking set of horns and they look mean, so
I’m not sure how close I should be getting to them. I don’t want to die from a
yak attack! I snap some photos (wish I had taken my long lens from the car)
and head back to the car.

Oscar and Ninda agree to take us to the Bogda Kahn Museum (Bogda means
king, the last one seems to finish up in the 1900’s.) and the Naran Tuul
Market for 20,000 Togrit. ($NZ 12).

The Bogda Kahn Museum is in a poorly maintained state… and (sorry to say
Mongolia) is a poor reflection of Ulaanbaatar in general. Mongolians clearly
are great at conquering the world but are less great at maintaining their
world. Footpaths, stairways, buildings are generally in a state of decay, and
the Bogda Kahn palace is one of those things that could look as super-flash as
the Forbidden City, but instead looks like it hasn’t seen any maintenance in
the last 50 years. Given weather conditions are so intense here, I can
imagine without maintenance these buildings,
which are only over 100 years will not be here in
another 10.

The museum part is full of oddball items include

the Bodga’s stuffed animal collection (which is now
over 100 years old and is looking rather depressed.
Among the collection are a stuffed Kea and Pukeko,
and I think a Weka. Bet they never thought they’d
end up in Mongolia!

I don’t have any photos because it was an extra

2,500 MNT to take my camera around with me, so
I left it in the car.

The traffic between the Museum and the market is

diabolical. Oscar eventually gets us there and finds
a park in a parking area that is super-tight. He
actually hits the kerb with his car, I don’t think
there is a scratch, but I sense his tension levels are
high.

The market is huge and the small part we walked

around had carpets, clothes, shoes and hats of
every description and label. Even Oscar warned us
“these were fakes”. He was also concerned with
how I was carrying my camera and cell phone
given this market is notorious for pickpockets.
 Of particular note were
the boots made from dog
fur.

We had arrived at about

5:30 and the market
closes at 6pm so many of
the stall-holders were
packing up. I would have

loved to browse at a less pressured

pace, and with the knowledge that I
didn’t have a lot of room in my baggage
for a lot of stuff.

We head back to the car and suggest

heading out for dinner, which Oscar and
Ninda are keen to do. We didn’t have
lunch and hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
So, we head off in the car again.

This time, as appalling as the traffic was last time, this time it is 10 times
worse. I reckon we travel 2 kms in 20 minutes.

As we drove, they played Mongolian rap music… it was pretty cool actually.
Normally when you listen to rap music in English its full of profanities, but
with this rap, I can’t tell, so it was cool. They also had some
Russian rap which sounded a bit Eminem-esque.

Oscar and Ninia point us in the direction of the main town

and I think to myself “funny if they take us back to the same
restaurant that Andrew and I went to last night”. Sure
enough, of the thousands of restaurant/food options in
Ulaanbaatar, they take us to the exact same one!

Andrew and I agree to not mention to them the

coincidence, but when we sit down and look at the
menus, Nanda points to the exact same item I had last
night and recommends that to me! I try to politely
decline, and Andrew and I order a soup each and a
shared plate of assorted Mongolian delicacies. Oscar
and Ninda also order something, but when the shared
plate turns up Oscar is nibbling away at it. This spurs
me on to finish my soup faster, and dang it is hot, and
dang I burn my tongue!
It has been an absolutely fantastic day, and as an

unofficial guide, Baggy and his brother/girlfriend have

been really good to us and taken us places we would never have been to on
an official tour. When it came time to pay, there was no pressure applied for
more, there was no bitterness like occurs in other parts of the globe. We had
a deal, they honoured that deal, and we paid for that deal. Actually, Oscar
and Ninda got a quite expensive meal out of it as well, and we did give Baggy
a tip when we next saw him.

It was a great day… I feel like I have seen everything I want to see… happy
to leave for Irkutsk tomorrow.

Hotel Wi-Fi not working/getting frustrated with that/chill Ian, you had a great
day/OK, that’s true Ian/Goodnight.

As the sun literally and figuratively sets on our time in Mongolia, I reflect on
how awesome it has been to get a little taste of Mongolia. The people, in
particular, have really impressed me. They seem happier, more trustworthy,
and friendlier than many others I have meet. True English is not a
strongpoint in these parts, they probably get more Russians around here than
English-speaking people, but overall, I’d give it an 8 out of 10. If they could
just do something about the dust (unfortunately it does get rather dry in
these parts) and get stuck into some maintenance around the place, then I’d
give them a higher mark. (as if my opinion counts).

Au revoir Mongolia. It’s been a lot of fun.

(No idea why I used French there…)

Ulaanbaatar/Transiberrian Train, -Saturday,
20th October 2018

Wi-Fi works, - cool.

We’d agreed to meet for breakfast at 8:30 am so I

head out 7:15-ish for a morning walk down to
Sukhbaatar Square again, this time in daylight
hours.

It’s quite a long way from our hotel. I take

another gazillion photos of Chinggis and
Sukhbaatar before heading back. I’m about 15
minutes late for breakfast, - this time an omelette
and other breakfasty things.
I pack my stuff up (no easy feat) and
meet up again with Andrew to store the
luggage and head out again. This time
in search of “Beatles Square”. This is a
weird little tribute to the Beatles, even
though they never got to play here, their
fan club paid to put together a tribute
which was apparently threatened with
demolition some time back but kept due
to public pressure.

While we were there,

a film crew was
filming a video for a
Mongolian rap song.
I’ll make sure to look
out for it.

There is also a statue

to some ‘benevolent
Minister’ from the 1920s. Sounded like a good bloke.

We decide to go into the “State Department Store”, which

sounds rather ominous. Andrew confesses that he expected
to see sacks of corn, but reality couldn’t be further from the truth. It was
super-flash in the style of a flash-as Farmers. You walk through the makeup
section (I personally hate that) before being confronted by many floors of
capitalism connected by layers of
escalators. Hanging from the ceiling is
a microlight airplane pimped up with
light rope.

We eventually find ourselves on the

top floor where we buy some
Mongolian t-shirts.

We come back down with my

Kathmandu jacket setting off the store
security system not once but twice!
(why does it always do that?)

We head for lunch, yum, yum… this time I

have a spicy little number! – Tagturitan. A
tomato-based chicken piece soupy thing,
served with a number of bits and pieces,
mini-omelettes, cubed cucumber, pickle
etc… Nice!

Andrew wants to check out an English

bookshop which we do, - he buys a book
for the train – before heading back to
the hotel, picking up our luggage, saying
goodbye to Baggy once more, hiking
back the 1-2 kms back to the train
station where we wait about an hour,
before we are off.

The Ulaanbaatar train station itself is a

rather grand affair, with a rather ornate
chandelier dangling in the main
entrance.
This train crew is definitely Russian, and once more we have
made a mistake. Thinking that we will not make the same
mistake we made from Beijing, we have cash, Mongolian
cash. Problem is, this lot only take Russian Roubles. We
effectively have no money again. However, this time we
have a truckload more food than we did last time, and when
the Russian attendant comes around with snacks and then
later with souvenirs, she mentions we can pay by credit
card. Andrew buys a train coffee mug for about $NZ 7.

The scenery of blue sky/brown

grass continues. Little hamlets
exist close to Ulaanbaatar with
human population decreasing as
distance increases from the capital.

The compartments on this Russian

train are bigger, because we don’t
have the silly “shower” room
wedged between 2 cabins,
therefore you don’t need a bunk,
there are 2 opposing beds that you
can sit on. We nibble on our South
Korean snacks and drink our Coke Zero.

We get to the Mongolian side of the

border around 8ish/9ish. They come
through and check our documentation,
they are fairly relaxed. They look smart in
their uniform, but they aren’t threatening.

Around midnight though we hit the

Russian customs/immigration people.
These guys are far more serious (like the train attendant people). We get
asked twice by 2 different people whether we have Tramadol… not drugs,
ammunitions, etc… Tramadol?

There is a man with a German Sheppard (why isn’t there a Russian Sheppard
– it’d probably be even scarier) that marches through the carriage at least
twice.

One customs agent gets me to empty out my bag looking for Tramadol
presumably. Another climbs all over the cabin looking for (presumably)
Tramadol. This Tramadol must be a very dangerous drug. [ I’m sure I’ve had
it prescribed in the past.]
The guy checking the passports has a portable scanning Russia
machine thingey, that has infrared lights and little
microscopic analyser thingey. He seems to spend ages
on my passport before stamping it. He looks about 18,
but I have no doubt that he could call down fire and
brimstone on me if he so desired.

All the Russian immigration/customs officials are

Population: 144.5 million
European. All the Mongolian ones were Asian. Although
President: Vladimir Putin
the official European and Asian demarcation line is still
Soviet Union created 30
thousands of kilometres away, we have crossed over the
December 1922
demographic demarcation line between Europe and Asia.
Russian Federation
created 25 December
I remember a discussion I had with the Russian embassy
1991
people in Wellington about the actual date we enter into
Russia is 64 times the size
Russia. He said it was VERY important that we get the
of NZ.
date right. At the time I had ummmed and ahhhhed
Record high temperature:
about what date to put, because the train schedule was a
45.4 C
little vague about what date we would cross the border.
Record low temperature:
According to the online train schedule we were at the
– 71.2 C
Mongolian border on the night of the 20th, and were in
Russia on the morning of the 21st… but what date should
I put for the Visa application?

I remembered this conversation when the young Russian guy stamped my

passport (which I take to mean ‘welcome to Russia’). I kid you not, - exactly
midnight, - not 1 minute before or 1 minute after, - exactly midnight!

Eventually, after what seems like an eternity, the Russian attendant lady, in
her very harsh tone advises we are through immigration.

I wonder if she has ever laughed?

I wonder if any Russian has ever laughed?

We later hypothesise that the Russian default position to anything is “No”.

When I was walking through the carriages to get to the last one to take some
photos all the various attendants at each carriage would look at me
disapprovingly, climaxing in the final carriage where the rather large women
yelled something in Russian
at me. I just looked dumb
and made the international
gesture of ‘I’m a tourist just
wanting to take a photo’
which seemed to placate
her somewhat… but my
point is, they are very “no”
people.
Trans Siberian Train/Irkutsk, -Sunday, 21st October 2018

After an interrupted night (clearing immigration) we wake at about 6am.

Andrew immediately notes that the click, click rhythm every 20metres on the
track has stopped. He says this is because the rails have been wielded
together, meaning unlike Mongolia or China. We do note later in the morning
the click, clicks start up again.

The countryside is a lot more varied here. Mostly brown with patches of
green, lots of rivers and lots of trees. They look like silver birches with a
scattering of pines. The birches have lost their leaves, but the pines are
evergreen.

The train tracks take us north until we hit Lake

Baikal when we start travelling in a south west
direction along the banks of the Lake. It is an
enormous lake, - I’d read it is the largest (by
water volume) and deepest lake in the world.
[Wikipedia tells me t is 1,600 metres deep in
parts!]

We track the bottom tip of the lake for hours.

On the map, the lake looks long and narrow,
but we are looking across the narrow part and
to start with the other shore is only just
discernible, - i.e. it is MASSIVE.

There are more hamlets and houses and

evidence of human habitation here than on the
Mongolian side.

Also, the “eternal blue sky” of Mongolia has

given way to clouds on the Russian side. I
suspect the soil is much more arable over here
than in Mongolia too, most house have decent
vege patches and a good stack of firewood
(remembering we are heading into a Russian
winter!)

We eat vacuum-packed Korean squid on our

Siberian train and wonder which ocean of the
world the Korean’s dragged the poor squid up from. could be anywhere. We
eat Korean noodles, made with the help of the carriage cassovar (hot water
cylinder).

I have a bleeding nose… I blame the smog of Beijing and the dust of
Ulaanbaatar. I’m hoping the air quality in Irkutsk is better.
We arrive at the Irkutsk train station mid-afternoon, navigate ourselves to the
train station ATM machine where we withdraw copious amounts of Russian
Roubles. We decline the offer of taxis and head off in search of our hotel,
using a photo of a map I took before leaving NZ as our guide.
It would’ve been good to have Google maps, but that will be
tomorrow’s job, getting a sim card for our phones given we are
in Russia for over ten days.

It is fair to say we got lost a couple of times and had

to ask for directions from people that don't know
English and we certainly don’t know Russian.
Thankfully the Booking.com app provides the name
and address of the hotel in Russian.

We ourselves found a road signpost that matched the

Cyrillic words on the Booking.com app (quite
proud of that) so we knew we were in the right
place, just to find the hotel? All the buildings
looked like residential apartment blocks, and not
exactly flash ones either! There seemed to be
very few businesses in the area with few signs
indicating any form of commercial activity at all.

I then noticed a 10/2 sign on a building right in

front of us, that matched the Booking.com app
address. It just does not look like a hotel at all…

Rather nervously we open the door, and sure enough it is

a small hotel lobby. Crazy. This hotel gets the award for
the worst hotel signage ever.

The lady behind the counter knows as much English as I know Russian, BUT,
she smiles and seems happy… cool. First smiling Russian I’ve met/seen.

This is the Mini-Panda hotel which is weird, given then Pandas live in
Southern China about a zillion miles away - but that suits me fine. There are
paintings of Pandas on the wall and the bedspreads in my room are fake
leopard skins. Decor is slightly eclectic, but hey, who cares.

We have again booked separate rooms just, so we get a little space… the
transiberrian train compartments are pretty compact.

We meet up after around 4:30 and head out in the direction of the town. It’s
certainly cool. I’ve got my Kathmandu stuff on but regret not bringing my
gloves and woollen hat. Walking across the bridge in particular is chilly with
the wind ripping through… het welcome to Siberia.
Irkutsk is on the Angara river which is
an outflow from Lake Baikal and
eventually flows into other rivers that
flow into the Arctic ocean. It is 580
metres wide, so the bridge is a fairly
impressive piece of Russian engineering.
Irkutsk has a population of just under
600,000, but interestingly (according to
Wikipedia) the population has been
falling since 1989.

I first heard the name Irkutsk by playing

the ‘Risk’ board game many
years ago… and now I’m here!
Something cool about that.

We are principally looking for

place for dinner, but
most places look shut
(being a Sunday
night). We wander
not really sure which
direction the centre of
town is, eventually
seeing a place with
delicious looking
photos of food on
display. Done.

Delish.

Very Western styling,

young people serving.
Obviously a very hip
and funky place to eat.
And cheap given the
high quality of food we
get served. Probably half or a third of what the equivalent in NZ would cost.

We head back but get diverted when we spot a supermarket. It’s interesting
wandering through a foreign supermarket, looking at all the different stuff,
although to be honest there is mostly just same/same stuff. We buy some
more food for the next train trip which is for 2 days, - our biggest yet.

We hit the street once more thinking we know roughly the right direction to
head in, but not completely sure, so it’s a sense of relief when we see our
bridge again. After a few hairy sprints across busy roads, we find ourselves
back at our crazy hotel. Good night.
Irkutsk, -Monday, 22nd October 2018

Today we are off to Lake Baikal, the largest and deepest lake in the world. At
over 1,600 deep, 636km long, up to 79 kms wide, it’s HUGE. It contains 22-
23% of the world’s fresh surface water (i.e. does not include water in the
atmosphere, underground or in the ice caps.)

We are off to Listvyanka, about 70 kms away on the shore of Lake Baikal
where the Angara river drains the Lake. Apparently, there are over 270 rivers
flowing into the lake, but only 1 that drains the lake. This river flows north to
the Arctic Ocean.

Our smiley, helpful reception lady orders us a taxi to take us to the bus
station where we can catch a bus to the Lake.

After battling Irkutsk traffic for about 20 minutes our driver delivers us. It
costs 171 Roubles according to his meter. I make a rookie mistake and
almost hand over 2 x 1,000 Rouble notes, but the taxi driver is an honest
bloke, and reacts in a way to indicate I clearly have got it wrong. We do the
maths, - 171 Roubles is a touch over $NZ 4. We are staggered at how cheap
a taxi ride costs, - I estimate the same thing in NZ would cost $NZ 50?

The buses are basically 18-seater minivans, and the driver is the largest,
roundest bloke I’ve ever seen. When he gets in and out of the rather
substantial van, it violently rocks from side to side.

We’re off after another stop and people get on and off over the next hour.

The road conditions are poor. We later

read that the road to the Lake was built
in 1960 for a visit from US President
Eisenhower, that never eventually
because of some crisis or other. If it
was built in 1960, I doubt if any
maintenance has been done since on
the road. The severe weather
conditions and the age of the road have
left it potholed and cracking, but the
driver gets a good speed up.

It costs us about $NZ3 each.

We arrive at Listvyanka, which is obviously set-up for tourists, though I think

99.9% of those tourists are Russian-speaking, very little effort has been made
for English-speaking tourists. Signs, information centre people and just the
general populations’ grasp of English is surprising to me in a tourist town.
The best English that we found was a lady in the market that sold us a
Russian doll each, and probably her being able
to speak a bit of English was probably a big
part of why we decided to buy from her.

We wander through the fish market which also

has souvenirs. I am very interested in the
Vladimir Putin Russian doll, but it is too large
(of course). We end up going into a warm food
place for smoked fish, and a plate of lamb for
me and chicken for Andrew. They certainly
have a high protein diet in these parts!

We walk north up the lake where we find a

secluded spot. If I’m going for a swim, this is
where it’s going to be…

It’s something I’ve talked myself into, going for a swim in Siberia. I’m
prepared with my togs already on under my pants, though I forgot my towel.
I can make do with a spare t-shirt I bought. I set up the camera for
documentary purposes, strip off, run in, scream like a girl, go under and run
back.

It’s cold, but I expected colder to be honest.

Still, I now have bragging rights. Anytime this lake comes on tv, I can truly
say, - I swam in that.
Did I mention this lake freezes over for
significant parts of the year in some places 2
metres thick?

We buy another BBQ plate of meat, this time

with some bread as well from a roadside
vendor. We sit in a little hut, and then
someone comes over and collects the 100
Rouble ($NZ 2.50) fee.

We head up the hill behind the lake. There is a

definite path and it’s a good climb, mostly pine
trees but further up, more birch trees become
apparent.

Along the way we see some wood-peckers.

They make a heck of a noise, like someone
with a hammer. Very curious creatures! Don’t
they get headaches?

The tracks seem to branch out and head

deeper and deeper into the forest. If we had
more time it would be interesting to follow
one, but there are seals native to this lake that
would be good to see. Apparently, they are
the only freshwater seals in the world. There
are pictures and souvenirs all over the place of
these fuzzy cute white seals, but I assume
they are the seal pups.
We head done to the wharf area and
sign up for a “glass-bottom” cruise,
basically a boat with some panels
replaced by thick Perspex.

The cruise travels across the mouth of

the river where the depth of the
lake/river is such that you can see the
bottom of the lake/river through the
“glass-bottom”. It’s actually not that
exciting, and the guide is only talking
Russian which makes it a little less
interesting. Still it’s nice to say that
we went for a cruise on the largest
lake in the world!

We decide at this point that we’ll

shoot back to Irkutsk, so we catch the
next bus back, we have the same
driver again. There is conflicting
information about whether it is
possible to catch a ferry back or not,
given this is outside normal tourist
season. Someone says no, someone else says yes, but at 6:30pm. We don’t
want to wait 2 ½ hours to find out, and it would be good to get some SIM
cards for our time in Russia, and there doesn’t look like anywhere around
here.

The whole time we are driving through Irkutsk we are looking for cell phone
company shops or signs… nothing. In NZ, Spark and Vodaphone are some of
the biggest advertisers in the market… here we have no idea what company
to look for. The bus stops at a big market area so we get out. We find what
looks like one, but in limited English they point us down the road and I get
“MTC” as the name of a telecommunications company.

We head down in the general direction, aware of the very large market on
our left but looking for an “MTC” shop. We eventually find it but talk about
looking for a needle in the haystack.

In the shop, we have to provide a passport, and I have to sign a gazillion

forms (all in Russian and I have no idea what they say), but we walk out after
half an hour with functioning cell phones and access to Google maps!
Somehow life seems easier… we now know where we are.

A new SIM with unlimited data is less than $NZ 10.

We head back to the market, but once again it seems things are closing up. I
see similar stuff to the market in Ulaanbaatar. It would be good to come
back here!

We find a spot for dinner, though I doubt it is authentic Russian… I think it’s
some type of Mongolian/Russian fusion with an emphasis on Mongolian, but
still very tasty.

With Google maps as our guide we head back to our hotel, again
via the same supermarket that we discovered the previous night.
Even more food for the train. The next train trip is the big one
at 55+ hours.

Footnote: The shower at the Panda hotel is the BEST shower I

have ever had. There is so much water shooting out this thing it
is amazing. Andrew tells me later his was the same. When you
think about it, Irkutsk has the world’s largest water reservoir in
the world (Lake Baikal), it’s kind of makes sense.
Irkutsk/Trans-Siberian, -
Tuesday, 23rd October 2018

Late start today. We don’t need

to be at the train until 4pm, so
we’ve agreed to meet up at 9am
before heading out to explore
Irkutsk.

Given we got lost walking from

the train station to our hotel, we
thought we’d start by walking
back to the train station as a trial
run for when we are fully loaded
with our gear. This time, we
walk about a third of the
distance.

We catch a taxi from the train

station to our first stop, the
Kazan, church of the Amazingly
awesome Mother of God, or
something along those lines. The
taxi driver was like a mad-man,
zipping in between buses and
narrowly missing parked cars at
speed as if he were trying to flee
from a zombie apocalypse. He
charged us 1,000 Roubles ($NZ
25) and considering this was only a little further than our
taxi driver yesterday (who charged 171 Roubles), we
knew we were being ripped off.

The church is truly is an awesome sight, not enormous,

by French or Italian standards, but very petite and
packed with onion domes and vibrant colours. The
inside was totally decked out with fancy bits and pieces,
paintings and gold bits, it truly was something that
tickled the visual senses.

While we were
there I could hear
what I thought
was recorded
singing, and I was
thinking, ‘that’s
nice of them to
create some
ambience for the
visitors’, but just
around a corner
was a service, and
the singing, - very
nicely done was a few real women and the acoustics in the building just did
the rest… really good. The priest had a magical deep voice ideal for the
liturgy, all rather well done. I bet God was impressed, or Mary, maybe even
both.

The women wore shawls and we were sure to remove our hats, all very prim
and proper.

They had no problem with us wandering around and taking photos although
obviously we respected the service that was underway.

We headed back outside, and Andrew got his coffee fix from a coffee shop
directly across the road. He muttered ‘that was the worst cup of coffee I’ve
ever had’ as we exited the building.

We head into town, through a fairly average area, back to the central market
that we had seen the day before. This time we had time on our side. I
haggled a bit to get a UFC hat for Jordan for about $NZ 7.

We find the food market part, and eat some stuff from a bakery stall, and
then also a Mongolian food stall lady who was doing a roaring trade. Mostly
oily/greasy stuff, probably really bad for you, but yum, yum, yum.

We head out and walk past a couple of different Lenin statues and also an
Alexander III statue. I find it strange that they celebrate the tsars, and the
communists. I guess its all just history now.

In fact, they have LOTS of statues in every park, on the sides of roads, there
are just lots of blokes and bloke-esses that have been immortalised on then
own pedestal.

We hit the river, and walk back up to our bridge, then back to our hotel.

We sit in the hotel lobby for a while, before heading to the train station,
knowing that we are going to be a couple of hours early for our train.

The station is busy. There are commuter trains and distance trains scheduled
for the afternoon. Ours leaves at 4:14pm
and there are many platforms. The
platform is only announced 5 minutes
before it arrives, and at that point there is
a mass exodus from the waiting area to
the platform 3.

There are lots of young Russian lads

staring at us. I strike up a conversation
with a couple we saw in the supermarket
the other night (but never spoke to), that
were buying gloves for their girls. They
pointed out that we had actually met them
in Ulaanbaatar, they were leaving as we were arriving, and I’d commented on
the guy’s NZ t-shirt (even though he’s an Aussie). Travelling
with 2 young kids, good luck with that!

Anyway, turns out half the Russian army are on our train. They
are mostly early 20’s and we strike up a conversation with a few
of them. They are going through to Yekaterinburg as we are,
and then on to Orenburg, their home town.

They are travelling 3rd class. The first time we

walk through from our cabin (first class)
through a few of the third-class cabins to get to
the restaurant cart, we find it hard not to laugh.
There are legs and bodies and young Russian
soldiers everywhere. Very occasionally there
are people in third class that aren’t Russian
soldiers and I can tell they are HATING it. I
hope they aren’t on here for the next 2 days, -
they will find it tough!

The boys we ended up talking to (via Google translate) were

great kids, clearly very eager to talk to someone other than
their army buddies. One said he was a driver and a sniper.

Dinner was again confusing. The

Russian attendant on our cabin said
something about 1,300, which was
what we assumed we would have to
pay. This would put it as more
expensive than the really nice
restaurant that we went to on our first
night in Irkutsk, where we got Master Chef quality food.
When we got to the cart and had our cold meat appetizer and
beef stroganoff, we felt totally underwhelmed, but when we
went to pay, we were told it was part of the ticket price, we
were completely over-whelmed.

…but why then did we buy so much food for our trip???

We navigated our way back to our cabin through the

Russian army still quite perplexed about what the
1,300 was all about.

The sight out the window (before it got dark), was the
brown/pine/birch combination we’d seen so much of
since leaving Mongolia. The blue skies of Mongolia are
long gone now though, it is grey dreary cloud.
Trans Siberian, -Wednesday, 24th October 2018

Today is our only full day on the train, every other trip starts in an afternoon
and finishes the following afternoon, but today is a day where we are totally
onboard from midnight to midnight.

Also, last night was the first night on the train where we were not interrupted
by border guards, immigration people, customs agents with dogs and people
checking passports. I slept ok. The beds is a bit narrow, and the
blanket/duvet kept falling off.

It seemed to be quite late before the sun rises in these parts. But
somewhere around 9am, Andrew pointed out there was snow outside.
Yippppeeee…. Seeing the snow in Siberia, was the whole point in booking the
train at this time of year. The snow gets thicker outside the window the
further we travel, and I take a gazillion photos and video on my phone and
camera, but it’s hard to get a good one from a moving train out smudgy
windows.

We pass by little hamlets and occasionally you see people just going about
their business, - snow, what snow?

I bet this is a fraction of what they’ll get in the height of winter in

January/February.
The rest of the day is fairly
slow.

There is a stop where we

can get out at Marlinsk for
30 minutes. They swap
locomotives. It’s cold, but it
is great to be outside in the
snow even if it is just at a
railway station.
The toilets at the end of the cabin use a suction flush like in an aeroplane.
They are horrendously loud, not only when you are in the toilet, but from our
cabin 5-6 cabins away. The only way of describing it, is like a dying orca that
is suffering tremendous pain. Inside the
toilet, your brains almost get sucked out
at the same time, it’s incredibly
powerful.

Come dinner time we are confused

(again). Do we get food for free like we
did last night, do we not get food for
free? Andrew eventually asks our
attendant, who advises that we missed
dinner. Dinner was at 6pm. We are
confused about time zones. Our
Samsung phones have 2 different times
showing on the same screen and had done
most of the day. Mrs happy attendant
comes back later and advises we can go to
the restaurant cart now if we like.
(confused again, one moment we can’t, the
next we can…).

In the process of Andrew and I going to

the toilet we become separated. I head off
up the carriages thinking he’s ahead of me.
But I get to the cabin with my Russian army comrades and ask if they have
seen my buddy and they say no, so I think he’s behind me. I decide to wait
with my army buddies for Andrew to catch-up. They show me card tricks and
we talk via Google translate. They are a great bunch of kids, and the other
non-army people that have been trapped inside this human cage for well over
a day now with them, show no signs of deadly intent.

They are obviously on a high, clearly on holiday. There is a young Korean

who is also travelling in the same carriage that has obviously become good
friends with them. He speaks English. He has also just finished his
compulsory army training for the South Korean army. He tells me he got
$400 per month during his time in the army (presumably $US). He says the
Russians get $35 per month.

Before long we arrive at the Novosibirsk railway station, where a lot of people
are departing the Army carriage. Presumably the train will start emptying out
it’s army recruits, the further we get away from Irkutsk.

Wikipedia tells me that Novosibirsk is the third largest city in Russia after
Moscow and St Petersburg. We don’t get to see a lot of it in the dark, but
there do seem to be some large skyscrapers and apartment blocks.
While on the platform, I see Andrew, he had actually
been ahead of me, and had had a Chicken Schnitzel
and beer by himself. Oh well… I did my bit with
improving international relations while he ate chicken.

Night falls reasonably early around here and the sun

very slowly arises in the morning, at 8am it’s still very
murky. It makes for a long night. I wake up
multiple times during the night. Internet
connectivity comes and comes. I have
conversations with Kiarah in India and Helen in
NZ. It’s an incredible world we live in.

The scenery out the window is back to brown

grass/birch tree. The snow is gone (sniff).

Only 2,247 steps today.

Trans-Siberian/Yekaterinburg, -Thursday, 25th October 2018

Today is another slow day. We arrive at 1:36pm this afternoon so just

counting down the hours… tick, tick, tick….

The snow is no longer.

We don’t get a breakfast or a lunch on the

train. We probably could wander down to the
restaurant car, but it’s just not really worth the
effort.

I work on my first ever video diary. I’m

contemplating my own You-tube channel, so I
start with my Beijing Day 1/2 videos photos.
Comes together alright, - it needs an audio
track that I’ll need to record elsewhere… but
could be alright.

We cross rivers and little towns on a regular

basis.

This train seems much faster than the Chinese and Mongolian ones. We are
travelling on the Vostok train which has been in operation since 2001. It has
a power point in our cabin, and a tv, though unfortunately it only has Russian
movies and no ability to play from a USB stick. Like the other trains we’d
been on it had a hot water cassovar at one end and a toilet at the other
(actually 2 on our train). The other thing was that our cabin was lockable
with a swipe card access… very flash.

We arrived in Yekaterinburg about 2pm. We decided to walk to our hotel

once more. With Google maps, life is much easier, we don’t get lost this
time, we’ll kind of don’t get lost.

We get to where the Vosenensky Hotel should be but there is a 4-star other
hotel nearby and no Vosenensky hotel in sight. Turns out Vosenensky in
Russian is spelt with a really weird Cyrillic
combination of letters, that look nothing like
Vosenensky.

The hotel is quite flash. From memory we decided

to book a good hotel because we knew we’d be
quite tired after a 2+ day on the train.

I have a shower and change clothes (first time in 2

days), - feels good.

We head out about 4pm-ish, the Church of the Ascension

is literally just behind the hotel. This is the oldest church
in Yekaterinburg, built in the 1700’s and is a nice blue-ish
colour. The man behind the desk tells me it is fine to take
photos, though I am very respectful as it is a functioning
church and worshippers come and go. Being a typical
Russian Orthodox Church, it seems every wall and ceiling space is covered in
beautiful paintings illustrating some event from the Bible, or some well-known
saint from the Orthodox religion. Many paintings have candle stands in front
of them.

Across the road from that is the Church of

the Blood, which is built on the very site
where the Romanov Tsar’s family (Nicholas
III and co) were murdered in 1918 by the
Bolsheviks. Apparently, the house where
they were murdered in, was demolished in
the 1970’s so that Royalists would not use it
as a rallying point for a return to the days of the monarchy. The church was
built in the earlier 2000’s.

Another interesting fun fact is that Boris Yeltsin,

Russia’s first president was born near
Yekaterinburg.

We continue our wander, and to be honest, - I really like the place. It’s got a
lot of quirky buildings and churches, and a very large pond, which has been
artificially created and controlled by some flood gates on a river that flows
through the city.
Andrew feels a bit woozy, so we enter what looks
like a reasonably austere building that is housing
a rather large/flash shopping mall. We head for
the top floor where there is a food court to see if
coffee will help Andrew’s wooziness. Burger King
seems like an easy option as well.

We head back outside to head back to the hotel

and we are hit by the way the outside has
suddenly been lit up in vibrant colours and flashy
lights. This is a city that seems to come alive
after sunset, although to me, that is a surprise
because the temperature seems to have
plummeted a number of degrees in the 1 hour
we’d been in the mall.

Another thing that makes me chuckle, is that

there is a very prominent statue of Lenin in a
great “follow me lads, I know the way” pose. It
is facing the great shopping mall of capitalist
Yekaterinburg. I noticed the statue before the
sun set, before we entered the mall, but now,
with the sun gone, and the lights of the shopping
precinct and other government buildings fully lit,
old Lenin stands in the dark. I wonder if that is
deliberate? He is literally the only thing in the
area not lit up like a disco.

We wander back to the hotel and

call it a night. Almost 15,000 steps.
Yekaterinburg, -Friday, 26th October 2018

We decided to meet up at 7:30am for breakfast at the hotel. Good decision,

for $NZ 9 there is a wide array of food on offer. I eat so much I don’t need
to eat again until dinner.

We’ve arranged a taxi to take us to 2 different monuments on the Asia –

Europe “border”, given the official definition starts and ends for both in the
Ural Mountains.

The Ural Mountains are not really mountains around here… there seems to be
a break between the northern Urals and the Southern Urals, so establishing
the “border” between Europe and Asia around here I think is a bit arbitrary.
However, there are 2 monuments close to Yekaterinburg, - the first 17kms
away which takes the shape of an “A” entwined with an “E”. Nice and
symbolic. The second is 40kms away and is an obelisk, that at first glance
looks impressive, but on closer inspection (by Andrew) looks like it is showing
significant signs of decay.

Anyway, to number 1. This is on the side of a very busy motorway, and I

have seen many You-tube clips by tourists on this one. It is also apparently
very popular with people getting married, and around here weddings happen
on either Fridays or Saturdays. (It’s a Friday today, but at 8:30 (ish), there
are no weddings to be seen here yet).
Apparently, the thing to do here is have a drink in
Asia, a drink in Europe, tie a ribbon to a tree and
stash the bottle in a growing line of empty bottles.

I know these things are just symbolic, and in this instance, particularly
arbitrary, BUT, I appreciate the symbolism, and I personally enjoy jumping
from Asia to Europe. Perhaps it’s because I come from an Island nation with
no land borders that I find land borders a mix of curiously important and
funnily simplistic. To think that entire cultures can be
defined by a line in the dirt is kind of strange, but yet
also kind of understandable given the history.

We jump back in the taxi and go to the second

monument that is a bit further away. This one, is
apparently where Alexander II stopped on a trip to
Siberia in 1837 and had a drink of wine. That started
this whole tradition of a glass of wine in Asia and one in
Europe. There isn’t the same personality that the other
one had with the ribbons and the glass bottles, this is more
austere, more soviet in feel.

Andrew points out the lack of forethought in the selection of

materials used in the construction of the stairs to the
monument and the monument itself. It shows sign of
warping and decay presumably from the intense winter
snows that must play havoc with the joins between the fairly
thin building products they actually used.

We jump back into the taxi and head back to Yekaterinburg

and get dropped off near the shopping mall/Lenin
statue area that we discovered last night. There are a
few red/green/blue lines painted on the footpaths that
take tourists on various routes past various places of
interest. We wander one for a while. We enter a
significant church that is being renovated, inside and
out. We visit an old church that was established for the
peasants (much less grand). We feed squirrels
(well Andrew does). We see a couple of wedding
parties. We basically see the sights of
Yekaterinburg.
We decide to head to the Boris Yeltsin
Museum which is dedicated to the
home-town hero who navigated Russia
through the 1990s from a communist
state through to a reformed free market
economy. It is actually an excellent
museum and I thoroughly enjoyed it. It
set the context from early Russian Czars
(Ivan the terrible, Peter the Great,
Catherine the Great etc…) through to
the Communist and post-communism
period. It then explained how the
Gorbachev years played out, how Yeltsin got
fed up with the slow progress being made on
reform and how he was elected Russia’s first
President. Although only 10% of the signs
were in English, I got the gist and some of the
interactive displays and videos were very
clever.

After walking around half of

Yekaterinburg, we are hungry.
We end up at a food court on the
top floor of a mall that is
opposite the mall we discovered
yesterday. The food court
doesn’t have many great options,
so we chose what looks like a very decent restaurant.
We select food which is largely Russian national food.
They even make borsch for us even though it is not on their menu. Really
great food, but we do pay for it… almost NZ prices even… (well not quite).

We finished dinner around 6pm. We console ourselves, that in Irkutsk, it was

actually 8pm, that’s why we got hungry early. We continue walking up an
interesting looking street, under a couple of
subways under roads and end up in another
mall, - but this one is GIGANTIC. It is
ENORMOUS. It just goes forever, I got to be
honest though there is very little that appeals
to me here. It’s just staggering how big it is.
[as Andrew put it, how many handbag shops
do you need?]

After an afternoon where we had a history

lesson on communism and the hard road to
economic reform, it is just mind-blowing how
capitalist they have collectively come in such a
short time. Old Lenin must be turning in his
grave at how things have turned out for
Russia. I snigger to myself how he is the only
thing not lit up on the main street, -
everything and everyone else seems to be
having a party except for the Lenin
statue lurking in the darkness.

We head back to our hotel and have

an early night.

Almost 22,000 steps today.

Yekaterinburg/Trans-Siberian Saturday, 27th October 2018

We grab the hotel breakfast. I decide to adopt

the camel principal again, and eat as much as
possible, because we do not know how much
food will be available on the train which we are
catching this afternoon, - this time destination
Moscow.

The train is around 2pm, so we decide to stroll

the streets of Yekaterinburg once more, key
targets being the Romanov museum, dedicated
to the killing of the Romanov Royal family in
1918 (exactly 100 years ago) and a quirky little
salute to the Qwerty keyboard (why they
celebrate that when they don’t even use the
Latin alphabet, I’ll never know).
The Romanov Royal family were executed by the Bolsheviks as the White
army were approaching the city to retake it (which they did) during the civil
war. The bodies were dumped down an abandoned mine shaft some way
away. The building in which they were murdered was still there right up to
the 1970s. Today there is a fantastic new Church on the site and in the
basement is a Museum to the family. They appear to have been sanctified (if
that is the right word). Icons/paintings have them looking angelic. All the
signage is in Russian, so not a lot of information gleaned from the museum,
but somehow sobering all the same.

There was a church service in the

basement at the same time we were
there. Very reverent and ritualistic.
The priest had an awesome deep
voice and would almost sing his
liturgy which was also a duet with a
group of female harmonisers
interjecting backwards and forwards
with the priest. The acoustics were
awesome, - it really is quite special.
The congregation was 60-70 I
supposed with a healthy range in
ages.

We headed off to find the salute to

the Qwerty keyboard, passing the
Beatles tribute along the way. (does
every Russian city have a Beatles
tribute lurking somewhere?).

We come across the keyboard, bit of

a disappointment really. Not sure
what I was expecting, but this was
fairly average. BUT, on the positive
side, - it was on the side of the river
bank that was super picturesque.

We walked around some more,

returning to the restaurant last night
where I had accidently left my neck
warmer… yippee they had it and I
was joyously re-united with it. [I tell
you it is super useful in these parts…
its COLD].
It’s nearing 12pm, and so we shoot back to the hotel, pick
up our stuff, and walk to the train station. We could grab a
taxi, but I think it’s a good idea to use up all the energy we
can before these train trips, because it’ll be another 24
hours before we can get any more proper exercise.

We get to the train station with slightly over an hour to kill,

so we head for McDonalds for lunch. I know, McDs is not
exactly atypical Russian, but it’s fast and convenient, and
we most certainly do not want to miss the train.

At the duly appointed time we find our second-class cabin and meet our
roommates for the next 24 hours.

This was a decision that we made when we were booking our tickets… we
would travel first class for the first 3 legs, which means you get a 2 bed cabin
which is cramped for 2 people, but for the last leg we would go second class
which means you take the cramped cabin for 2, and add 2 more people into
it. We figured at the time it would be a great way to meet people.

So… we find our cabin, - its locked. The attendant has to leave her spot at
the door and come and unlock it, and at the same time fellow roommate
“Alexander” turns up.
First thing I notice about the cabin, is that it is
already full of stuff, and the small table is
already full of biscuits and drinks lined up in
front of the window. The second thing I notice
is the smell. It’s fairly rank.

The first thing I notice about Alexander, is he’s a

fairly impressive barrel-chested kind of guy, - he
ain’t little. We say hello, he shakes our hands,
we’ll get on just fine I can tell, - some people
you immediately know, they are good people, -
that’s Alexander.

Shortly thereafter, roommate number 2 turns up.

His name is also Alexander, so easy to
remember. This guy is much older, and, thanks
to Google translate, we establish they are not
related or travelling together, - although they
have been since somewhere between
Vladivostok and Irkutsk. I.e. they have been on
the train for 5 days, and we are the 4th set of
people to get on/off during their 5 solid days on
the train.

We’ll that explains the smell.

Older Alexander pulls out a pepperoni stick and

some cheese for lunch.

Ok, - that also explains the smell.

The thing that I really struggle with, even more

so than the smell (being a kiwi that loves his
personal space), is how little personal space
there is in a small cabin with 4 big guys with
their luggage… I am reasonably easy-going
about a lot of things, but I can tell I’m going to
find this really hard.

Anyway, there is nothing to do about it, and they

certainly have no problem with the arrangement,
so suck it up Ian, - get over it.
Alexander the younger (who is actually
2 years older than me), is a really nice
guy on his way to Moscow for eye
surgery. He works on the railways and
has 2 daughters, the older of which, he
is particularly proud of. She is a very
talented singer, he shows me video on
his phone, and she is, legitimately, very
good. He is not just a parochial father
smitten with his own daughters’ talent,
but she is actually very good. It gives
us a common topic to “talk” bout (via
Google translate). He really wants to
somehow get her to study music
overseas, and I sense he is excited
about linking up with a “tourist”,
because he gets out his phone and talks
to his daughter all the way on the other
side of the planet and I hear the word
“tourist” a couple of times. We connect
via facebook, but I do stress how
expensive it would be to travel/study in
NZ. We are enjoying the benefit of a
healthy $NZ to Russian Rouble exchange rate, but he would be going in
reverse.

Anyway, - it will probably end up in nought, however as soon as we are

facebook buddies, he pours over my family photos, asking me questions etc.
Nice guy, and I wish him well.

The older Alexander is harder to read. He doesn’t do cell phones like the
other Alexander other than to talk on the phone which I hear him once or
twice do. But he was very quick to jump onto our side of the cabin and get
Alexander the younger to talk a photo of him and Andrew (who he called
Andre) and I (who he started calling me Ivan, but he eventually got it right).

Nice old man with a powerful bass voice like so many Russian men have.

One of the memorable stops on this leg is at Perm. I get out and take a
photo and wonder how I can get a meme out of this, - “I had a Perm and
now I’m in Perm”? – was the best I could think of. Andrew says Perm is the
most northerly we will get on this train trip, but I’ll have to check it out later
to confirm.

The trip to Moscow started same/same. Birch trees, occasional settlements,

occasional roads, occasional trains coming in the opposite directions… a little
bit ho hum to be honest.
But 9am the next morning Andrew says to me, - “did you know there is snow
outside”. Now 9am is still fairly murky, the sun doesn’t rise much until about
then, and the grey overcast skies, just make it look fairly dark and imposing,
but by jingo, he’s right. There is a really good blanketing of snow which gets
us very excited all of a sudden. Unfortunately, we (1) don’t stop in the
countryside to enjoy it, and (2) the windows are streaked with water trails so
it’s difficult to get great shots of the snow, (3) all the windows must have
some type of anti-UV tinting on them, because all my photos make things
look blue, - but it is really cool to see the snow again.

We stop for a bit at Novgorod, which is a historically significant city on the

Volga river. We eat a weird wrap from a vendor inside the station, with
mashed potato and a hotdog thingy in it… kind of worked but… hmmm…
don’t think it will catch on.

This leg does seem to drag a little bit. Maybe it’s the lack of space that is
wishing me to get this over and done with (I’m disappointed with myself if
that’s the case) or is it just a desire to get to Moscow, an iconic city, as
quickly as possible. I find myself watching the clock count down, which I
never did on any of the other legs.

We pull into Moscow bang on time.

We bid adieu to the Alexanders.

We bid adieu to the train for the last

time.

We have a plan to get to our hotel.

Take a metro (1 connection required)
to the station that is mentioned in the
Booking.com app, then use Google maps to take us the rest of the way.
Sounds easy.

We get stuck at step 1. We spend 15-20 minutes trying to understand the

ticket machine dispenser at what we thought was the metro. Only once I
asked one of the gazillion people that was walking past did it become
apparent that the ticket dispenser we were at was for the regional train
service not the metro. Once we had that figured out (and it clarified it for the
South Korean girl who was also confused by the machines), we headed in the
direction of the proper metro underground.

We descended a mighty long way to the platform, where we were greeted by

enormous chandeliers hanging from the vibrantly painted ceilings. It was like
some kind of cross between Soviet and neo-classical French stying. It was
oddly beautiful or beautifully odd.
We were horribly confused about which train
to catch and in which direction. We couldn’t
reconcile any of this with the stations we saw
on our map (downloaded from Wikipedia),
but we took a punt and jumped on a train,
once we had consulted with a local lad. The
reason why we couldn’t reconcile it was
because we were on the brown line not the
red line. Luckily, the brown intersected with
the green, just at a different place from the
red, but we could still get to the green
station needed. [hope that makes sense].

We eventually emerged back on street level

to the sound of a sax-playing busker. The
road to our hotel reminds me of some
Parisienne walkway. Tall and stylish
apartments line both sides of the sides with
shops lining the ground floors of those
apartment blocks, predominately eating
establishments, - very nice. We are quite
central here, only about a 15-minute walk
from the Kremlin if I’ve done my homework
properly.

The hotel we
have booked
(N-Hotel), is
another
example of a
hotel
operating out
of what looks
like a
residential
apartment
complex. It is
not well
signposted
and the security man on the ground floor who doesn’t speak English, motions
us to put our bags in the lift but for us to walk up the 5 flights of stairs to the
hotel.

The lobby area is small and compact. I’d hate to be the receptionist sitting in
this tiny cubicle all day long. But the room is quite large, and it’ll be great for
3 nights for me, only 2 for Andrew.

We both have showers to wash away the smell of the train before heading
out to see the Kremlin/Red Square.

I am right, we are very close.

The sun is just going down (5pm ish) and there is a great sunset, with a
zillion people taking selfies on the bridge by the Kremlin, very picturesque.
We continue onto the Square, past the iconic St
Basil’s church on our right, the Kremlin and
Lenin’s Mausoleum on our left. The GUM
department store is lit up like a Christmas tree.
I’ve read about all this, and now I am finally
here. I get goosebumps on my goosebumps.
This truly is one of the great cities of the world
and added to the fact that is was behind an iron
curtain shrouded in mystery during my formative
years, - there is a huge buzz down in my soul at
walking this cobbled square.

The square is flooded with people, tourists

snapping photos and selfies and groups of people
yelling at each other to ensure no one gets lost.
This is reminiscent of Beijing, though not quite as
chaotic.

There is one curious spot in the Square where

there clearly used to be a statue. People were
taking photos… obviously a significant site… the
plinth of some long-gone statue. Latter I find it
was the site of the statute of the man who
established the long feared NGKD (pre-cursor to
the KGB). Apparently, his was one of the first
targeted by the ‘people’ after the Communists fall
from grace in the 1990s.

We wander around a corner which has lights

strung across the street as if it has a ceiling of
light. Again, hundreds of people. We walk
through the GUM department store. It is flash,
shop fronts are immaculate. Why is everyone
buying an ice cream? It’s about zero degrees
outside. Admittedly it’s probably 20 degrees
inside, but EVERYONE, and I mean EVERYONE
(well maybe 75% anyway) is buying an ice cream.
It must be “The thing to do”.

We head back outside. The crowds show no sign

of abating, but we are on a mission to find some
dinner.

We head back to the street we walked up to our

hotel. There are a good number of eating options
here, we eventually choose a Greek place, run by
a couple of Russian speaking Koreans (?) that
don’t know that a Souvlaki is a Souvlaki (and not
the shush kebab that was delivered to me).

We eat to our hearts content anyway and end

up back at the hotel (after buying some “All
black” beer from the “Seafood market” (that was
disgusting).

I catch up on a couple of days of my diary, then

go to bed about 8:30pm.

It seems like a long day.

17,800 steps on the 27th- 12,500 steps on the

28th.
Moscow, Monday, 29th October 2018

We start the day surfing the internet for options, for things to do, and places
to eat breakfast. We settle on getting breakfast first. Andrew has found
something on the internet about English breakfast, all you can eat, bacon
something or other and cheap… we’re in.

Andrew takes point on this one. We know it’s around the other side of the
Kremlin, so we head off, only to find they have it blocked off. We’re not sure
if this is a regular thing, Russians do seem to start quite late in the morning
(it’s 9am), or whether there is some kind of special event being planned for
which deserves restricting those troublesome tourists from traipsing through
the beloved Red Square, whatever, we walk
around the Kremlin which is not easy to be honest.

The beautiful thing about Google maps in Russia is

that it can get you to the vague area of the thing
you are looking for, but it still requires quite a lot
of investigative skills in Russia, because they really
are not very good at signage. We are looking for
Talk and Eat and it takes us 15 minutes to find it
even though we are standing right where Mr
Google says it is.

It is a very cool hip place. But alias, what Andrew

had read on the internet was a lie. There was 24-
hour English Breakfast, but not a buffet/all-you-
can-eat option, and bacon was only on pizzas and
stuff like that.

Andrew goes for eggs on toast, I choose Borsht

and Focaccia bread. Delish. I decide I am going
to become the Borsht king of Kapiti. I really really
like it. If it’s good enough for Russian peasants, its good
enough for me.

The other thing of note about this restaurant (and I only note
it AFTER we sit down), is the very large artwork on the walls
of a very fat man in the nuddy. The artwork is repeated
almost all around the room. This guy makes a Suomi wrestler
look malnourished… he is FAT! I ask the waitress, and I think
she is a bit embarrassed, but she explains he is a well-known
model for a brand of sweetener.
We decide to visit the Kremlin given we are in
the area. Ordering tickets proves to be
difficult. Knowing what to do once we had the
tickets also proved difficult. Knowing what we
were allowed to do once we were in the
Kremlin was also difficult. Why, why, why?

Anyway, after a BIG Russian guy who checking

out tickets at one entranceway sternly
responded “nyet” gesturing us to the other
entranceway a million miles away, we
eventually passed through the security/X-ray
(why do I always carry so much in my pocket…
and where did ALL those coins come from?)
and into…. The Kremlin.

Now, I remember the 1970s and the 1980s

when the Kremlin was the centre of the evil
empire. It was portrayed on tv as the place
where world domination was schemed and
planned, and communism was a poison that
would spread its nasty tentacles out from this
place to the very ends of the earth. What I
didn’t know was that there were 5-6 churches
inside the Kremlin! Why did the Soviets not
destroy them? I don’t understand how they
survived 70 years of acute atheism. Lenin,
Stalin and co, all would have easily had the
opportunity to drive a bulldozer through them.
In fact, I read somewhere one of Stalin’s
cronies suggested bulldozing St Basil’s church
in the Red square (which is outside the
Kremlin) to make
way for a bigger military parade, but it never
quite happened (thankfully). But inside the
Kremlin, they let the churches remain?

Very thankful they did.

The ticket we paid for allowed us to go in all of

the churches and wander around a reasonable
amount of the Kremlin grounds. The churches
were in very good condition, the icons/frescos
were fading but considering some of their ages,
that was not a surprise.

The first church we went into, the church of the

blessed blah blah, was where the old royal family
dynasty was buried, some crypts were back to
the 1300s. In that first church I heard a kiwi
accent, so I introduced myself. They came from
Whitby.

There was another one called the church of the

disposition of the virgin mothers robe (or
something like that). I noted one exhibit that
dated back to the 1600s was purported to be
carved from the very coffin of St Peter.

Another Church of the something or other, had

the throne of Ivan the terrible.

It was all very interesting, and the kind of place I

could spend hours wandering through. Inside
the churches, - lovely and warm. Outside the
churches, the temperatures were sub-zero. (my
phone said zero but “feels like -6” because of
wind chill factor). The annoying thing was,
though, we were not allowed to take photos.

I now know why most Russians choose short hair.

They are forever taking their hats off, putting
them on, taking them off, putting them off (repeat
a bazillion times). I have really bad hat hair after
the second or third time.

Anyway.

There is an enormous cannon that shot cannon

balls the size of large beach balls, and an
enormous broken bell which I recall reading on the internet (so it must be
true) is the largest bell in the world. Or would be but
for the fact it’s broken and has a whooping great
chunk that has separated from the bell.

By around 12 we are getting cold and a bit bored. I

hadn’t seen Vladimir Putin, so I was a bit
disappointed. We decided to head out of the
Kremlin, visit St Basil’s and then head back to our
hotel to get more clothing on, then lunch then do
something else in the afternoon (either river cruise or
Gorky park).

So, - St Basils.

Andrew called this a church that has a hint of

Disneyland about it. And he’s right. The nine onion-
domes atop the spires are brightly and intricately
painted vibrant and exciting colours. We wonder how
this went down with the austere Communist
architects and artists of the day. Most of the Soviet
architecture and art is not fun, not even close to
invoking a mild snicker. Soviet architecture is
functional and meant to inspire hard work and
discipline. To find a church in the very centre of the
Soviet landscape that looks more like a Disneyland
fairground attraction, is quite surreal.

The good thing about St Basils, is that you can take

photos.

What a place.

There are 9 distinct churches within the St Basils’

Church. Each has its own personality and its own
glorious name. Among the hundreds of people
wandering through the church is a group of Russian
schoolkids. They look bored and clearly don’t want to
be there. They make me laugh. Playing up and
grudgingly traipsing after their teacher as if it was the
worst school outing in the word, whereas there are
tourists that have flocked here from every corner of
the globe.
The layout of the churches seems very haphazard, I presume the layout
evolved over time, little bits added here and there, until it all seems a lit bit
overwhelming…. And then you find the stairs to the second floor! OMG.

There is a Russian male voice choir that sings some traditional Russian songs,
and the acoustics are amazing. They are trying to sell their CDs, but I note
once they stop singing and start advertising their CDs the crowd quickly
dissipates. I guess it’s one thing to hear a traditional Russian church song in
St Basils but I’m not sure I’d want to hear it in the comfort of my own home.

We head back to our hotel, happy that we have ticked

off the Kremlin AND St Basils, - nice morning’s work! But
the cold is biting. We add more layers before heading
back to the “Seafood market” that we discovered last
night for lunch. The actual amount of seafood on offer is
pitiful, - they really should stop using that as the
descriptor. However, the place we find for lunch, which
is well-frequented by the locals – was great. I had
Borscht (again) and those traditional Russian dumpling
thingy’s and Andrew had Borsht and a rice/meat
combination, and we shared a big bread bun, all for 600
Roubles ($NZ15). It was a feast for $7.50 each.

We decide to go do the river cruise this afternoon. It

means navigating the metro, there is a connection that we manage
reasonably well, but the trouble starts when we get to the station that we
need to get to. You would think finding the exit from a Metro station would
be reasonably straight forward? Think again. We went around and round
and up and down escalators trying to find the way out. It was not obvious.
Again, I get back to Russian signage. There is a real lack of direction coming
through from the powers that be, and I wonder if that is a reaction to too
much direction being issued from the Soviet masters of 30 years ago? Maybe
I’m looking at it too deeply.

We eventually find the surface once more where once again I put on my neck
warmer, hat and gloves and zip up my jacket. It hasn’t really poked above
zero all day, - I’ve been watching the temperature on my phone, which I
know isn’t accurate, but it tells the story. The “feels like” on the phone has
been hovering around -5 degrees. I can believe it.

We head off for the River cruise company, pay over the money and almost
die laughing when we board the boat.

It is flash! There are waitresses pandering to our every need and everything
is just divinely appointed. I feel like a Czar.
The cruise is 2 ½ hours long. The river is
quite wiggly through Moscow, and there are
many interesting sights on both banks of
the River. We board at 3:30pm, so given
sunset is 5:30, the last part is in that
dusk/starting to get dark part of the day.
The Russians LOVE to light stuff up at night.

Gorky park and other parks with walkways

along the side of the river are well lit. They
actually have lights that change colour
which must be quit cool walking along in the
park when the whole park/walkway turns
from green to red to yellow etc… Kind of
disco park walking.

I note the caviar on the menu is a

reasonable 490 roubles…. A smidgeon over
$NZ 12. When am I ever going to have the
chance to have caviar again in Russia for
such a low price? I yield to the temptation
and have me some. I go for the Red Salmon Caviar, there are other options,
the most expensive been the equivalent of around $NZ 120. I am happy to
report my caviar is the best I have ever tasted.

The cruise is awesome. And it is warm.

It is approaching 6pm when we get back to the pier and we have already
sorted our next mini-adventure. A trip to a market in search of a new bag for
Andrew. He heads home tomorrow, and if we get him another bag, he will be
able to take home some of my stuff as well.

This trip to the market will involve a couple of transfers and a trip into the
suburbs of Moscow.

We take a couple of bum turns… going the wrong way on a line… but they
are easily remedied by swapping trains at the next station to go the right
way.

We know this market is at the Sevastopol Hotel. Apparently, it started when

Indian and Chinese stallholders started renting out rooms at the hotel to
market their wares. This market organically grew until almost the whole
building is now taken over by the market.

The internet sites advise people to start on the 16th floor and work your way
down, which is exactly what we do.

The 16th floor is entirely beads (necklaces).

A significant part of the 15th floor is beads.

In fact, more than half of all the stalls in the building would be beads and a
high proportion of the other half would be bongs shops. Beads and bongs,
beads and bongs… We know this because we walked past every stall in the
entire building, ALL 16 floors! Why?

Somewhere about the 8th floor we found a

luggage/bag shop and Andrew bought a bag
for 1500 Roubles, down from the original shop
keeper’s offer of 2,000. I think the shop
keeper was well pleased.

We came out of the building quite stunned that

there would be so many people trying to sell
beads and bongs. It was incredible. How do
they survive. And their stock levels were just
HUGE. The person making the real money here
was the wholesaler that sold the product to the
stall holder in the first place.

We head back to our station, and, after a stop

off at the supermarket, end up back in our
hotel.

Steps for the day – over 26,000. (probably

half of that would’ve been in that incredible
market!).
Moscow, Tuesday, 30th October 2018

Last full day for me in Moscow, Andrew leaves at

11:50pm tonight.

We are very casual in the morning, until I suddenly

realise that it snowed overnight, and then it was
all go.

We were out the door and into the cold of a -2

degree Moscow morning.

Muscovites are not anywhere near as excited about

snow as I am. This is, I understand, the ‘first
snow’ of the season. I would’ve thought they
would’ve been way more excited. I love it.

We head back to Red Square stopping for

numerous photo opportunities along the way. We
deviate to the right this time and find a great little
nature park, - plus a huge cantilevered walkway
that extends out across the Moscow river. It’s a
nice new development and yet merges with the old
environs very well. There are the obligatory onion
domes of a few impressive old churches and they
sparkle in the sunlight. This is awesome, snow
(though not too much) and blue sky. My favourite
combination.

We wander for a while but are inextricably drawn

back towards the general Red Square area for
breakfast. We note few breakfast options, so end
up in the GUM department store. This is a very
famous market, though the GUM store of the
Soviet area would be worlds apart from the ultra-
chic store that it is today. Every plush western
brand is represented here. Completely out of my
price bracket. We walk the length of it before
spotting what looks like a café on the top floor that
looks like it would have an amazing view down one
of the 3 “lanes”. We head up and grab breakfast.
The café is set up so that you grab a
tray and move along a servery area
where helpful attendants serve you
your selections from behind the
counter. I ask for scrambled eggs,
mushrooms and bacon which the lady
duly serves by weighing the servings
before putting on my plate. I think
the quoted prices are per 100 grams.
Crazy. Anyway, the lady behind the
counter collecting the money was one
of the happiest customer-focused
people that I’d met in Russia, and the
cost was again very reasonable given
this is breakfast in the most exclusive
and famous shopping centre in
Moscow.

We decide to head to Gorky Park,

again one of those iconic spots, I
think it is the scene of an eighties
movie with plot involving murder and
espionage (?) - I can’t remember. I
must investigate it when I get back to
NZ.

Anyhow, the metro involves a

connection and a few stops, and we
are deposited close by.

I would say the metro here is ok from

a useability perspective, but in
comparison to Paris, Beijing or other
great city undergrounds, it is a bit
stoic, clunky and very loud. When the
train approaches the platform there is
a deafening screeching noise that
most Muscovites don’t seem to notice.
There are also times inside the
carriages when conversations with your neighbour become very challenging.

I’d say a little bit of investment is required to bring the trains up to the 21st
century.

Gorky Park. Not overly impressed. I think they are in the middle of
constructing the ice rink for winter (?), so it’s a bit of a construction site at
the moment. There is a lot of stuff packed into the park, which seems to me
to be squeezing out the ‘nature’ bits.
We come across a rather unusual bridge that was difficult to miss from our
river cruise because it was so ugly. It is enclosed in glass, with yellow
framing. From the boat we wondered if it was a walkway, and yep, - it is.

We crossed over giving us some more great views of the river and bits of
Moscow.

It’s mid-afternoon and Andrew (and I) have packing to do, so we head back
to the hotel for a casual rest of the afternoon.

Around 4pm, I head out one

last time to Red Square.

It is cold.

I have not bought my gloves. Bad mistake. Working the camera becomes a
chore. I am afraid of frostbite. [perhaps an exaggeration, but you get the
picture].

It becomes obvious something is happening in the Square. I join a squad of

kids marching across the bridge in an army green colour. That squad is
followed by a squad of kids in a blue uniform.
The Square has been marked off by a combined police and army presence,
but the kids in uniform all file in to join the ranks of a trillion other kids
already there. There are marching drills and all the various groups find their
own spots to stand at attention.

The tourists are kept at bay behind barricades.

The cold eventually beats me, and I start walking back to the hotel. On the
way I stop and take some time-lapse video. As I’m doing that, 2 helicopters
land in the Kremlin. Putin perhaps? …come to join the parade?

By this point my hands are nearing zero Kelvin, and so I return to home base.

Andrew’s bag is packed. He is taking home some stuff for me, which I am
very grateful for. I think I made the mistake of travelling with too much
stuff…

We head out for dinner one last time, to the “Seafood market”, where we
again have Borsht, the Russian dumpling thingy’s, a bread bun and a mashed
potato/meat dish, all for about $NZ 7 each. We eat like pigs once again.

We decide, as a special treat, to find a nice post-dinner dessert, and found

one in a café on the main
road. We each had a
cheesecake, coffee for
Andrew and an apple juice
for me, and that came to
significantly more than
what we’d paid for our
main meal… just shows
you the price you pay for
ambience, sophistication
and class.

The time has come.

Andrew is heading off.

I accompany him to the metro station that connects with the train that will
take him to his airport. Moscow has 3 international airports and I will be
going to Finland via a different one tomorrow morning. I think he is missing
home. We take one last selfie and then bid adieu.

About 10 seconds after saying goodbye to Andrew, I spot a Putin calendar in

a little stall in the train station. This is significant, because I’d been looking
for more Putin calendars since buying my first one back in Irkutsk, and no
one seemed to stock them. I had orders to fill for people back home, and I
was beginning to doubt my ability to deliver to those orders.
I headed back to my metro station but mistakenly
emerged from the wrong exit. I tried to find my usual
“neighbourhood” without refereeing to Google maps,
but my internal radar was completely off. In the end
I surrendered to Google maps and wandered back to
familiar territory.

Actually, during the stroll I thought, why not go and

check out the Red Square one last time. (again)

I crossed the bridge and joined the throng of people

milling around in the square. It is bitterly cold, but
still a good opportunity to get some great photos,
even though I don’t have my Canon camera with me.

I think I’m done.

I head back to the hotel and ponder my day

tomorrow.

An early morning ride to the airport, and hello

Helsinki.

Over 32,000 steps today.