Let them eat cake...(posting from the road)

Well things worked out for the green blouse women - we were distracted from plotting our revenge as an opportunity came to disembark from the train itself. We were given 3 hours to explore (and use a washroom) the Siberian border town of Naushki before we had to return for the mandatory passport and Russian customs inspection. The opportunity to stretch our legs was too good to pass, so Tricia and I wandered up and down EVERY single street.

Naushki, like all other towns that we had seen in this part of Russia was a prime example of the Timber Architecture style. Every home had an ornate wooden design and decorative shutters, with the prime decorating colours being green and blue. We ran into a few locals...most with a little too much vodka on board, but overall it was a warm reception. There was a small moment of homesickness for us when we discovered a park in the center of town that had a familiar statue...the moose. It was eerily similar to the Dryden moose (except this one was spray-painted silver and had a headless camel next to him) - we briefly thought of you all back home...

But our day was clearly dragging on...with no end in sight as we hadn't even started the Russian customs yet and then we still had to go through Mongolia long process as well...everyone seemed a little down. What cheers people up more than anything in the world??? A birthday party!
The fact that it wasn't anyone’s actual birthday is irrelevant. Tricia and I found the store in town which had an impressive collection of alcohol and fully decorated cakes. This town is literally 4 streets of ramshackle wooden homes in the middle of nowhere and they have an entire display case of fully decorated cakes. Clearly a party was in order.

So we selected a cake with delicious looking frosting flowers, plus some jumbo beers to wash it down with, and headed back to the platform. Smiles abound as we sang happy birthday (to Pete, he is the youngest and needs to age more than the rest of us) and stuffed ourselves with confectionary goodness in the Siberian sun. It was an odd but pleasant moment.

In our absence, our car was detached from all others – it just sat there all sad and pathetic looking. We reluctantly boarded in plenty of time for the Russian inspectors, customs agents and German Shepards to do their thing through our compartment - and just like that we were off.

Departing Russia we chatted about the lavish palaces we explored in St. Petersburg, the ever-present communist feel of Moscow, the stunning Lake Baikal and the Siberian forests that dotted the landscape as our train slid past. Goodbye dill sprinkled on all foods...goodbye mandatory passport registration fees...goodbye bizarre fashion styles...goodbye inebriated Russians approaching us to be friends...oddly enough we will miss you all.

Lake Baikal...my nemesis for many years...(posting from the road)

I was expecting Siberia to be much different...we had a midnight stop in Novosibersk, Siberia's largest city, that afforded us a late night walk around the station but not much time to explore the city proper. Our first real "city" exposure was in Irkutsk - the largest city near Lake Baikal. I always pictured Siberia to be barren and covered with snow and blowing winds...I didn't envision a sort of Rodeo Drive feel. But there it was...high end stores and women in fashionable dress and heels prancing down it...very odd.

We, after already experiencing this city culture in Moscow and St. Petersburg, headed out to the country surrounding Lake Baikal. Disclaimer upfront - I have always HATED Lake Baikal. It seems odd to hold a grudge against a lake but I do. You see, I grew up on the shores of Lake Superior - the LARGEST fresh water lake in the world. When I was a kid, I remember learning in school that there was a lake in Siberia that also claimed to be the largest in the world...my competitve nature came out and I have always denounced the lake. (For clarification sake, Lake Baikal holds the most fresh water of any lake in the world and is certainly the deepest but by surface area...Lake Superior beats it by a long shot).

I will give them this...they have seals. Fresh water seals that I am very jealous of...unfortunately they live at the other end of the lake. One afternoon I split from our group and took a tour of the natural museum (aquarium) that sits on the shores. Somehow I ended up with a private tour of the place with a guide named Tatiana who took pity on my inability to read the Russian signage. This was fantastic...I learnt all about the endemic species of the area...and how to dispose of a body in a hurry...ahh the Russians. Tatiana explained that, if I needed to, any body dumped in the lake would be down to just bones in under three days thanks to these hungry little crustations that make the lake home...and the bones...they would get washed down deep...no one would find them. Bit of an unnerving converstaion in hindsight, but I did get to spend some extra time with the seals so who am I to complain.

No visit to the area would be complete with out a traditional Russian Banya (sauna). I have sauna'd my whole life, and this was an extreme version of it. The first part is three stages of sitting in the sauna as they increase the temperature each time (Costa, our guide says that he commonly has it at 120C - we maxed around a 100C, which is actually the boiling point of water...your body is mainly water...you do the math). Mittens and hats are provided to wear in the sauna to protect your appendages from steam burns and you need them. In between each stage of the sauna, a local tea is served. After the third stage comes the beating with sticks.

Using an evergreen branch and some branches from a birch tree, the participant recieves a sort of massage where hot water is splattered over your before you are repeatedly smacked hard with branches. I am just trying to figure out how on earth this practice ever started...seriously...who thought beating their buddy with twigs would be a good thing? Either way, for a stick beating - it's much more relaxing then you would think.

The food here is a welcome change after 4.5 days of train noodles. The only element that we have not been able to escape by coming East is dill. Russians put dill on absolutely everything, similar as to North America's usage of salt and pepper. It's not a bad taste, but an odd taste with your omlette, spagetti, rice, yourgurt, salad etc. Generally the pastries are spared, which are small thin pancakes served as either breakfast or dessert with jam or some sort of sweet syrup drizzled over.

So after a few days at the picturesque Lake Baikal I am willing to concede that it's not that bad. It is crystal clear with a glass-like appearance and there are picturesque mountains in the background. All really quite attractive - so it's a fine lake...as long as it remembers it's place as the DEEPEST freshwater lake in the world.

(apologies for the poor sauna photos...hard to shoot in steam). Dasvedanya for reading!

It just takes a few days for drunk russians, noodles and creepy kids to be a way of life (posting from the road)

Train life was actually more routine then I realized it would be. The mornings consist of...getting up...instant oatmeal (brought from home)...wash dishes and then try and clean yourself. This is the tricky part. We have found, through trial and error, that the most effective way accomplish this is to completely disrobe in the teeny toilet room...wash yourself with a towel and the cold tap water, supplementing the cleaning process with baby wipes. Doesn't sound so bad...now remember you are on a train that is rocking back and forth while stradelling a hole that is in the center of the floor - this hole leads straight down to the ground and as Tricia has accidentally discovered is the occsaional source of a mysterious baby gyser. It can be an sort of surprise bidet. You must keep your concentration over the constant door knocks and loud Russian calls.

The train stops every 3 -4 hours for approximately 20 min. This is absolutely must know information because you will plan your entire day around it. This is a chance to get off the train, stretch, walk and shop. Cute Babuska women show up with loads of homemade piroshkyies, chicken, cabbage, beets, tomatoes, eggs, bread and smoked fish. But if processed food is what your after...look no further then the platform...oodles of noodles, instant potatoes, beer and pringles are available for consumption. A late morning train stop gives you a chance to purchase lunch. Noodles (the most popular are the Mr. Noodle kind) are definately the most consumed in our group.

Russia would be a nightmare for a Health and Safety worker to travel in...they would be handing out violations like crazy. One place that definatley needs it is the hot water dispenser on the train. At the end of each carriage is a samovar, that dispenses hot water with the turn of a spigot. This is not just hot water...this is scaulding, boiling water that is heated by a fire burning in the base of it. You are expected to get this water into your cup/bowl while the train shakes down the tracks. I am amazed that I escaped withour burns. One other chap was not so lucky.

Will and Sara had a compartment across from the hot water dispenser and when they weren't drinking with us they would often watch people attempt to fill their noodle bowls (I am envious of their prime viewing locale). Will told me a tale about one man whose noodle bowl and all of it's burning hot contents went flying when the train switched tracks. Noodles coated the samovar, the walls and the man. Will dashed out with a cold cloth to try and help the obviously injured man whose primary concern was cleaning up the noodle mess before the Provodnitsa found the mess. I really don't blame him...they can be very scary attendents.

The later afternoons are spent drinking with locals who want to learn English. As a group we tend to spend most of our time with Maxime, a tank Captain from Chita, Russia and his family (Nadia and Katerina) drinking in the dining car. This nice family is returning from a holiday on the west coast - it will take them EIGHT days/nights by train to reach home. In exchange for our time, they supply us with beer and food constantly - despite our protests. They hop off the train at stops to by us piroshky and smoked fish - again despite our STRONG protests. But they are very nice people and I learnt more Russian from Maxime in 30 min then I did with a month of studying previously. Maxime has also given us his contact info in case we have any problems in Russia, he insists that we call him immediately. I don't envision this as being necessary but an army Captain is a good guy to know. (The oddest gift they gave us was a decorative plate that has the different Russian Empires on it...I feel bad as I sure that was intended to be a gift for someone in Chita.)

The rest of the train has quickly replaced us with just spending time with the Lonely Planet phrase book...usually we just loan out the book to the Russians, but sometimes we send young Pete with it. This then leads to Pete returning to the cabin in the middle of the night, completely hammered and wondering where his shirt is.

In their defense it is an amusing book with helpful phrases such as "your hands are too short" and "touch me here".

And there is DaVinci. DaVinci is a Russian boy, maybe eight years of age that just stairs at us...constantly. Sometimes because of the heat we have to sleep with the door open, sure enough, it you wake up early...Davinci will be there...staring at you. He stares at us in the hall, sitting in our cabins, our the window when we are on the platform...when we disappear to the dining car, I think he worries. It's to the point now where I don't know if I'll be able to sleep in the future without some creepy kid staring at me. Now Davicni is photo shy...so I have only been able to catch a quick shot of him...(we call him Davinci because like the artists great masterpieces his eyes follow you whereever you are...)
So that is my entry for now...as rambling as the train itself...looking forward to solid ground in Siberia!

Most valuable Russian phrase you can learn..."air-conditioning"

Well we survived the first night on our Trans-Mongolian Train bound for Irkutsk, Siberia. The journey should take approximately 89 hours and will cross 5 time zones. We arrived at the train station with all our luggage and groceries unsure of shopping opportunites - especially beer access, turns out no need to worry), a huge Western contingent garnering much attention as we struggled to load our cabins with absurd amounts of possessions.

We are travelling second class which means four of us to a cabin with 4 bunks and one small table. (Will and Sara - the British couple - were lucky enough to score a tiny 2 bunk cabin, that will describes as quite a bit more cozy than his loo at home). The furnishings are fairly comfortable, for a train. Currently we are approximately 20 hours into the journey and I am extremely proud of our accomplishment.

Like I so often do...I overplan my time for journeys such as this...I envisioned reading 2 books, composings several blog entries, learning Russian fluently, maybe even penning a novel of my own...so far we managed to get our Russian Provodnitiza (carriage attendant) to turn on the air conditioning. I cannot stress what a HUGE accomplishment this is - anyone planning on doing this trip (I'm talking to you Stephen), learn the Russian words for "air conditioning". I also drank a lot. Don't judge me, drinking helps take your mind off the fact that you are being actively baked on a moving train. (prior to this the only real reprieve were platform stops for ice cream)

Well less than a day into our journey and we have managed to make ourselves as conspicious as possible (I blame the drunk British folks I am travelling with). As some of the only English speakers on the train our time is highly sought after by a few of the Russians who are wishing to learn English. Our cabins are constanly visited with invitations for meals in their cabins or to meet for a drink in the dining car. As none of us actually knows Russian (Pete knows the most with about 20 phrases), we spend a lot of time with charades and flipping through the English to Russian Lonely Planet phrase book.

Other moments are spent gazing out the window...watching Russia fly by...quite a different feel than the big cities we have been exposed to.
I will give this one fantastic piece of advice to anyone travelling this route - get your hands on a "British gas key". It's a plastic key that happens to fit into the locks that Russian Rail uses. This valuable tool gives you freedom, you can secure your own belongings without having to wait for a less than hospitable Provodnitsa (train attendant) to do it for you. Warning...all operations around the using the gas key must be covert in nature...don't want to be discovered with this contraband.

I can tell my next few days are going to be in a sort of Rosetta Stone - beer induced haze as our train rumbles along to Siberia...will write a bit later, going to climb up to my bunk for a nap.

Dasvedanya

Lenin - still got it...even after 70 years...(posting from the road)

If you ever need to bond nations...I have the secret...it's pizza and beer. Exhausted with the dining options Russian dumplings and Borsch, we decided to "stay in" one night and attempt to order Russian take out. Fantastic delivery options exist here...pizza and beer can be delivered right to your hostel! So we recruited our city honcho, a Russian, and three Americans that we had be-friended back in St. Petersburg and sat down with a delicious dinner and a classic film - the Hangover. Four nations that night laughed at the antics of a drunken Vegas night gone wrong.

The 10 of us re-grouped in the morning for a trip to see the well preserved corpse of the popular leader, Lenin. The 6 of us were departing later in the day for the next lag of our Trans-Siberian train journey but the 3 Americans elected to join us merely to see the reaction of Pete. You see we told them about a discussion that occured on our previous train trip. Pete, our youngest by more than a decade, has been studying Russian history and has been quite excited to see it up close. When we asked him 3 days ago if he was intending on visiting the mausoleum and he replied "I will probably orgasm when I see Lenin".

Needless to say, a young boys potential...strong reaction to a waxy corpse would draw most people's attention. So after we part with all our possessions to ensure no photos or funny business near their hero, we all file into the cool mausoleum, the eyes of our group focused on Pete...not the waxy corpse in the center (okay - I took one peak). But Pete was able to demonstrate more control then the average 18 year old boy and we left without an awkward international incident.

It was time to bid farwell to our three American friends; Michael (Misha), Karen (Katya) and Blake...all three are students at GW in D.C. They are off on a huge adventure and I am insanely jealous. We are hoping to meet up with them down the road as there are a few times where we overlap cities. (They all have fantastic blogs...I will be posting the address to all at the bottom of my blog page) The best place to say good-bye to Americans...Starbucks. (Okay - it was my idea...needed a mug for the collection.)

Starbucks also gave us some more material to tease Pete with for the upcoming days. You see Pete bears a strong resemblence to a member of the British Boyband, JLS. This means that he is an international sensation amoungst teenage girls, the Moscow Starbucks being no exception to this...Pete could have easily left that day with some young 16 y.o. girls had him morals and elders allowed.

Off again...boarding a train shortly for a long 89 hours...will write when I can! Spajalesta for reading!

The Easter Bunny has been ripping me off for years...(posting from the road)

The Kremlin is huge, and only a small portion of it is open to the public. The main attraction on the grounds is the Armoury museum and touring the Armouy Museum reminded me of my mother. My mother will keep every gift that was ever given to her or anything that she ever purchased and display them all in an attractive way in the living room.The Russians too have kept every gift from a foreign dignitary or element of everyday life and they now display them in the Armoury museum. Jewels, clothing, suits of armour, carriages and massive collections of silver and gold fill the 9 rooms open to the public. Mom - maybe you could charge admission? (side note - my Mom does not have as impressive of an alarm system...I simply leaned in slightly to get a look at one of the carriages...next thing I know there is a wail of an alarm and a voice from above tells me, in several languages to "step back from the artifact". Gave me a bit of a fright, but I am impressed that I did panic and either run away or try and jump in the carriage...I simply stepped back and blended in with the crowd)

There were a few churches open for a tour, and they too were impressive, but the highlight is when one lady tried to get in without a ticket and was denied, she then turned to the tickettaker, wagged her finger and started yelling "I'm going to file a complaint agaist you". I thought about this for a bit...would she file a complaint with the Orthadox Church or the Kremlin? She then left yelling "stupid, I hope they know what stupid means in Russian!" I felt bad for her husband...poor man, his whole day was going to know be comsumed with his wife's plans to write an angry damming letter to the leaders of Moscow after being legitimately denised entry into what was, in all honestly, a rather mediocre church. I spotted them a few other times that day...he looked miserable.

I did enjoy a special exhibition tour of creations of the Fabrege company - with the Easter eggs obviously being the highlight. I think we used to get candy inside of our eggs - this is what hs lead me to believe that the Easter Bunny must like Russians better. Their eggs held intircate music boxes, a working replica of a miniature Trans-Siberian train, gold flowers etc. and the outside of our eggs were plastic, or maybe, if your were lucky, chocolate. Now obviously chocolate is a delicious treat but I think even as a child I would have realized the value of getting an egg encrusted with diamonds. I wish I could show you a photo of some of these brilliant creations but there was a clear no photo policy and place...when I ultimately do go to prision I would like it to be for a more noble cause then photographing an Easter Egg.

We spent the rest of our "Kremlin time" wandering the impressive gardens that are on site and watching the guards whistle at tourists. Dear tourist, I am assuming that if you can afford to travel to Russia and stay in Moscow, one of the most expensive cities in the world, then you probably have some degree of common sense that allows you to earn an income to support this venture. Why is is then as soon as you travel all common sense is gone? I ask this after watching several tourists walk off the clearly marked sidewalks and attempt to enter gardens, buildings and walkways that have only obvious military people present. The initial warning came in the form of a whistle blow. When this was enivitably ignored, it progressed on to wild arm gesticulating followed by an approach. I am sad to say that I never had a chance to see what the next step in the Russian Line of defense against tourists at the Kremlin was...I imagine shooting their kneecap wasn't too much further down the line.

So to sum up...I made it out of the Kremlin without being detained, despite one near miss with that alarm violation...toured impressive buildings and churches...had a chance to see idiot tourists from around the globe in action...and learnt that the Easter Bunny has been ripping me off for years...

p.s. sorry there are no actual photos of anything I really wrote about...President Medvedev has not relaxed that 'no photos or priceless artifacts rule' yet - sorry. I did steal that photo of the train egg from a random website. The top photo are my travel mates - minus young Pete, who you will hear about later, but that is (from the left) Sarah, Will, Fiona and Tricia)

The smelliest Russians had nothing on us today...

Sleep was hard to come by last night on our first official overnight train trip of this cross continential journey. Excitement and giddiness translated into hours of chatting and laughing but no meaningful rest. This is why the first day in Moscow was so hard.

I don't think I smell, at least not on an average day, but I try and be contientious and practice good hygeine. After a day and night in my clothes consisting of a long sleeve shirt and thick yoga pants I was excited to check in to the hostel and freshen up before tackling the Moscow Metropolitian area. The plans crumbled when our room was not ready and our city guide 'honcho' decided to use this opportunity to take us on an absolutely random tour of the city that went on...and on...

Hour 1 - Breakfast at a some sort of cafeteria-like establishment where our options were Borsch (both hot and cold) chicken, pork, broccoli and rice.

Hour 2 - Wandering through various parks to admire statues of Russian rockstars and famous clowns. Then we spent 20 min trying to cross a variety of streets to peer through the window of a car dealershop at our guides favourite type of car.
Hour 3 - Hike through the streets to Red Square. It was amazing to see this infamous square up close but by this point, after walking in the hot sun, we all smelled horrific...so we all stood there, in the square, several feet from each other, each jockying foth the prime 'downwind' location to avoid being offensive

Hour 4 - Tour St. Basil's Cathedral. Easily one of Russia's most iconic buildings, up close it looks like a gingerbread house. The inside is actually nine small churches in various stages of restoration...some thought it was beautiful but I was underwhelmed.

Hour 5 - Walked through the streets some more. I should explain something here...I am 5'5. Our guide, Ivan, is at least 6'2 and one memeber of our group, Will, is 6'4. This means that while Ivan and Will meander, I have to slow jog to keep pace. I can see Ivan, far in the distance, point to some sort of point of interest and explain it to those close to hime, but overall I no idea where we are, or more importantly when I might be returning to my clothes and a shower. We did convince Ivan to let us take a much needed break in a cafe, so we could at least visit a washroom.


Hour 6 - Board a boat. I know, I was thinking the same thing - why when you smell like absolute ass are you boarding a boat!?! If I had met anyone other then a drunk Russian women on the boat I certainly would have set back diplomatic relations a few decades. I will say this, you can certainly see how random Moscow is from the water. First we would sail by the imposing but impressive Kremlin walls...then by a large statue that was so unattractive the USA refused it as a gift...then a masssive gold-topped cathedral on one bank with an amusement park on the other side...a bit further on there was a Russian Spcaeship sitting on the riverbank...ummm I guess you could call it eclectic.

Hour 7 - With the sun continuing to blare down upon us we disembarked from the boat to board a chairlift. Yes, there is a chairlift in the center of Moscow and we rode it to the top for a view of the city. Which was impressive, but by this point I was disgusting myself and getting ridiculously anxious to bathe. The sun had also managed to fry my scalp a nice crisp red colour with it's powerful rays which also served to raise the temperature several degrees higher than the St. Pertersburg level we had been accustomed, and dressed for.

Hour 8 - Moscow is known for it's impressive underground tube stations, but at this point I was more relived that with so many people squished together that it would be hard to differentiate who was smelling.

Hour 9 - We finally arrive back at our hostel, where clean clothes and lukewarm bathing water are available. The 6 of us are all in the same room again, along with a Canadian couple (Toronto) and a random Australian. It will be an early night tonight after some beers and borsch - planning to pay a visit to the Kremlin tomorrow - don't worry fellow Canadians - I have no intent of giving a poor/smelly impression, I'll be freshly showered!

I guess I can die now...

I set a goal a few years ago to see 100 of the 1000 Places to See Before You Die (based on the book) - I honestly never thought I would make that goal...and now here it is...goal achieved on Wednesday May 18, 2011 @ the Hermitage in St. Petersburg Russia.

The day started out with a torrenchial down pour that Tricia accurately described as "worthy of an ark". Not wanting to spend the day huddled in our hostel bed, we set out to brace the city streets and made it as far as a coffee shop before realizing that there was a flaw in our plan. Drenched, despite rain gear, we decided to add an umbrella to the ensemble.

Well - St. Petersburg is a stupidly expensive place to shop on a good day...a day with torrential rains and a lady with an umbrella stand and three drenched tourists...let's just say - she did all right that day, may even retire early.

It will be of no surprise to any of you that the second we stepped out of the shops we were greeted by a dry sky that progessively evloved into a clear, blue, cloudless sky. I have decided to use the umbrella as a parasol.

Corrie, an Australian girl I met previously asked me an interesting question - "is there anything on the list that shouldn't be there"...and I have to tell you there several - but the Hermitage is not of them. The Hermitage is housed in the former winter home for the ruling Russian Monarchs, aptly named the Winter Palace. We wandered through room after room , there are 1500 of them, each one causing us to gasp as we entered...fantastic chandaliers, gold walls, elaborately carved columns and most impressive to me, original wood floors.

I think there should be an entire tour based on the floors. Hardwoods that have been cut out to form complex and intricate patterns have stood the test of time, and continue to do so, as thousands of tourists traipse across them. Of course on that
note their could also be individual tours based on the ceilings, chairs and clocks.

I was exposed to the Monarchial system while growing up...and like a good citizen, I respect the ruling family and their Palaces...but it's fairly easy to see why the people ultimately revolted against the ruling Monarchs when they needed to build not one, but two exentensions onto the Palace to handle their overflowing art. Today it remains one of the top collections in the world with artifacts from ancient Egypt to comissioned pieces from Picasso - even 2 original DaVinci works. I good go on and on, and on and on about the Hermitage/WinterPalce, but as my sister FREQUENTLY reminds me, less is more...so I'll sum it up by saying that it was the perfect "thing" to end my quest with.

I'm off to celebrate my personal victory with a pint or two of a beer I stand no chance of pronouncing correctly.

Mission Possible - where is Tom Cruise when you need him? (posting from the road)

"Is he still behind us?" was the breathless question from Sara as we bolted around a corner and cowered in an alley. The four of us had finally managed to evade our persurer. The night started out as a meet and greet and ended with a covert operation.

My five travel mates and I met up with a representative from our travel company...Olga was available to answer our questions about St. Petersburg and the next few weeks of our journey. (Unlike other 'tours' I have done, this one has no real guides...the occasional "city experts" available to us when the train stops...the 6 of us will just muddle through the remainder of the time. No room for error there I reckon - if it's one thing the Russians and Chinese are known for...it's patience and understanding.)

So like a good pre-departure meeting we settled down to a meal...this one was at a Georgian Restaurant (southern State in Russia). First off, I do not suspect Georgian cuisine will be catching on the way Chinese or Mexican has back home...just a hunch. Secondly I have always disliked when there are people singing while you are trying to eat and talk - it's loud and it bothers me. Turns out I had no idea...our meeting meal where we were planning on getting some much needed trip details was drowned out by frequent sets of 4 Georgian Pop songs being sung by a young stud who fancied his own voice. Dreadful does not begin to describe it.

This is where our adversary was first introduced to us. Mikael, a man who appeared deceptively sweet, was dining in the corner alone. When the music started up he would ask a random woman to dance...at first I thought he too was annoyed by the music and was trying to make the best of it. I was wrong - He was stalking his prey. After 3.5 hours, we simply gave up on meeting and choose to just leave...then Mikael had joined our table. When we attempted to pay our bill, we discovered that, in an attempt to impress Olga, Mikael had picked up the entire 5000 ruble tab. Thankful, but suspicious, we heeded to Russian custom and participated in a drink to show thanks...but Mikael wanted more. He wanted Olga.

He desperately tried find further activites for us to do...really stressing the importance of going on a night boat ride through the canals. I know that sounds like a kind offer but there are really very many problems with this plan...1) It's 1130 pm. 2) It's raining. 3) It's cold. 4) He is very drunk. 5) He has no boat. You can see where I found a few holes in this idea.

We tried to thank him and leave, but he decided to tag along for the walk back to our hostel. This is where the covert operation to lose Mikael started. Unfortuanately I have a hip that occassionaly functions poorly after surgery many years ago. It is rarely is ever a problem, so of course the only time it would flare up would be when I need it to escape a crazy man in Russia. Will - the tallest by far of our group had returned early to the hostel, leaving us 4 girls, poor young jet lagged Pete who had just arrived and the ultimate prize, Olga.

Attempts to politely dissuade him were to no avail. The closer we got to the hostel, the more dire the situation to ditch Mikael became. (Honestly I wanted to bring him back to the hostel and have the Babushka take care of him). Splitting up eventually became the only option...the fact that Mikael spoke only Russian allowed us to somewhat plan the escape.

When Mikael tried to once again flag down a cab in vain (we were neve going to get in a vehicle with this increasingly insistent man), we took off running to the underground tunnels. I was like a gimp horse - every step was excrutiating - in fact if I were a real horse I imagine I would have been shot. But as a human, Tricia and Pete had some pity and stayed behind with me...leaving Fiona, Olga and Sara to make a get away out of the tunnels and hide.

We emerged shortly behind them with a rather depleted Mikael behind us, clutching his chest. Now he is quite upset with us - he is experiencing some chest pain and is demanding to know the location of Olga. We know that they are hiding near by and call out for them to return to the hostel down a different road and we will lure Mikael away. Sara returns to support the three of us and we set off with the agitated, inhiberiated Russian in tow.

We had the home court advantage this time and when Mikael stopped to buy us all coffees, we ran as fast as could, through massive puddles of dirty street water and ducked into an alley. Slowly, under the cover of the darkness that had finally set in (damn the 60th parallel in late May), we made our way back to the hostel to find Fiona and Olga safe and sound. Operation a success...ready for our next mission...

Why is this Babuska blowing in my face?

I stood in the kitchen of my hostel this morning, jetlagged and exhausted with an older Russian women gesticulating wildly and blowing in my face and wondering - what on earth am I doing here?

This is morning one of a 3.5 week trip across Russia, Mongolia and ending in China...so far all I have managed to accomplish is somehow upset this Babuska. After an extended period of charades - which ended with her escorting me back to my room, rummaging through my suitcase and selecting what she deemed to be more appropriate clothing for the weather (the blowing in my face was simulating the wind).

I will say that so far Russia has not disappointed - I have found my churches with amazing domes and walked the streets amoungst the fashion elite, soldiers and hunched over old women. The cyrillic signage, and complete lack of any English, give the place a definate mysterious foreign feel that is somewhat erased by the KFC restaurant on the corner.

One of the more iconic sights has to be the Church on Spilled Blood. I have seen many churches around ths world and this is truly one of the more memorable and impressive. The outside has 6 dinstinctive domes, all with some amount of gold that absoutely sparkle in the sun. The inside is full of millions of a little tiles that create a massive mosaic that covers all walls and the ceiling (course there are many sparkling gold tiles as well). The church is nicknamed for the location where Tsar Alexander the II was assinated - the exact location is commemerated to this day with a wooden gazebo and a pile of rocks...inside the church. Quite bazaar overall.

St. Petersburg also became the 5th canalled city that I have visited in the world - so one must take to the water and tour the place by boat. Our tour boat zigzagged it's way though the 42 islands that make up the city center of St. Petersburg while the guide told us endless facts about the numerous palaces that we passed. Numerous does not begin to describe it - every second building is a Palace dedicated to someone or famous for some death that occured there. My favourite palace was actually belonging to the Strogonoff Family (yes the delicious noodles and beef dish that I actually thought was a creation by the fine folks at Hamberger Helper).

So I am here...in Russia...somewhere I never thought I would make it to...in a hostel...and we see how that whole bit develops as there are 14 beds in my room alone and only 2 washrooms for the entire facility!

The women in the Green Blouse must be punished...notes from Hell Train (posting from the road)

Apprehension rose in us all as we approached our first border-crossing train...the carriage assigned to us looked vastly different then those around it. our decripte, sad looking car was the only car set to cross the Mongolian Border - sadly that was not the only difference. I never dreamed that I would describe the Russian train attendents at friendly but in comparison to their Mongolian counterparts...they seem like a Carol Brady mother-figure.

We now longer had the luxury of 6 beds on 2 private cabins for our group, this means that two of us would be sharing with the locals. I am sure some of you are saying...that sounds like fun, part of the expereince. Just wait. I am fortunate that the decision was made to isolate the girls in one cabin leaving Pete and Will to share with, what turned out to be, Mongolia's top opthamologist and his son. Our cabin was still quite cozy however as we had to fit all of our luggage, some overfill of the boy's bags and crates of bananas in our cabin. We tried to remove the bananas from our cabin but the train attendenant angrily charaded that they belonged to her and they should remain right where they were.

Border-crossing trains seem to be like an import/export business with all of our train mates stocking up. People boarded the trains with microwaves, bicycles, pastries, eggs and crates of assorted items. The opthamoligist was no exception...Will and Pete had very little space to store any of their luggage with the overflowing amounts of items crammed into their space. To actually make thier cabing a little more uncomfortabe was the stentch of cooked chicken and Siberian spring onions were left on the to contintue to bake on the hot train. Needless to say, they spent quite a bit of time in our carriage, attempting to breath fresher air.

I cannot recall if I mentioned this before but the trains are all equipped with 2 washrooms, one at either end, and then the ability to walk between carriages in front and behind you. Not our car. We were locked in the train car with only access to one washroom, the attendents locked the other one and used it for personal use. To make it even worse, there were times the would lock the other washroom (which they need to do at stops) and then not unlock it when were were moving again. Of course we can't even try another car as we were trapped on our own carriage. This lead to a necessary covert Bristish Gas Key operation.

Nature calling, we needed to access the washroom. Pleading with train overloard, we were continuely denied - matters had to be taken into our own hands...we snuck down to the washroom...and one person standing guard, pretending to take photos, one by the door and one in the facility that we unlocked with the contraband British Gas Key. Operation Washoorm Access worked like a charm, for me...I was in and out in record time. Things then fell apart - we didn't plan for a snitch.

All passengeres should have rallied together, regardless of nationality for access to toilet facilities. But no, there was a women with a green blouse one...and she was against us...upon seeing something fishy going on, she marched down, found the attendent and told on us! Well that Mongolian Train Dictator marched down that aisle, pushing Sarah and I aside on no time and flung open the door on poor Tricia who was unable to hear our warning cries over the grind of the tracks. She really didn't do much at the discovery of a squatter (no pun intended) in the facilities...she just stormed away, bewildered as to how we accessed the room at all.

So, to sum up our journey this far...only one washroom for up to 36 people (I won't even begin to discuss the cleanliness of it), no access to other cars (including the food car), the hot water is not available (I forgot to mention that!! you try eating dried Ramen pot noodles), contraband bananas loading up ar cabin as we prepare to cross a border, 6 of us trying to cram in to one cabin to avoid the putrid smell of the othamologists chicken and onion buffett - now we have slightly relieved bladders but a totally pissed train attendent and arch nemisis in the green-blouse women.
We have no idea if we will be permitted to leave the train over the next 8+ hours...only time will tell...but I will say this, extra time for us will not work out well for the green blouse women...extra time for us means...revenge will be sweet.

p.s. the top photo was taken after we awoke one morning to discover all other cars behind us gone... hopefully on purpose...