Irkutsk/Lake Baikal to Ulan Bator
Arrived, very skankily, after 60+ hours on the train to our small hostel in Irkutsk. A hot shower never felt so good! Explored the town a bit, known as Paris of Siberia, ate omul, the fish from nearby Lake Baikal, in a friendly, funky restaurant. Met lots of peeps from the hostel, including Richard, from our first train ride. Touristally (this can't possibly be a word, my first bush-ism), drank beers at a German beer haus, odd to see Russian girls dressed in dirndls in the middle of Siberia. After a nearly sleepless night coughing up my lungs and likely keeping up half the hostel where I earned the nickname of coughing vampire due to my inability to sleep before say 2 am or so, about the time my coughing fits commenced, a hike to the deepest fresh water lake was in order.
Lake Baikal is said to be able to supply the world with it's water for 40 years if there were no other source. Michael, a very well traveled Canadian, joined us, well more like I was joining them, the banter was quite, how should I put this, boy-ey. I slept through most of the apparently windy and icy drive to the trail head, which was nothing more than some railroad tracks and we were told to meet her in the second village, her white car would be waiting, it would only take us 2 hours. 4 1/2 hours later, 12 km walked, we arrived but I digress.
The first part of the hike to the lake was though forest and some shoddily made bridges, reminiscent of the Blair Witch project. (Pictures will explain this correlation). An hour or so we approach a "town" of 6 buildings and were unsure which way to follow the train tracks, our only directions from our driver. This was our first glimpse of Lake Baikal and she is a beaut! Luckily, Jake, from Baikaler hostel, where we were staying, spoke enough English to point us in the right direction but not before he offered us the use of his canoe, as long as we could name the colors of the Jamaican flag, very cool dude. He was also running a hostel here for only 200 rubles per night ($7 US dollars/per night!, even more amazing as Russia is not cheap) so close to the lake and what a chillaxed feel it had. If it weren't so damn cold, I would've wanted to stay here for longer but we were lucky enough in having a clear day so alas, another time I'll be back to kick it with a bottle of vodka and hear some random stories from fishermen.
After our cold canoe ride, we were off for the portion of the trail on the railroad tracks and through some tunnels, the old railroad. Stopped for a picnic lunch and more bantering with our new Canadian friend then off again to walk the never ending trek back to the white car. Normally this would have been easy but my knee had different ideas, just 3+ months post ACL surgery, I was limping towards the end but was so glad I survived!
Back at the hostel front, we joined a group who was leaving that night on the same train as us to Ulan Ude, the last stop in Russia. We ate at an I restaurant having grown tired of the Russian fare, meanwhile exchanging traveling stories and suggestions.
On the train again, this compartment was older than the last, it seems the further we were from Moscow, the older they were. We shared it with 2 Russian girls who giggled for most of the trip, making me sorely miss my girlfriends. :( 6 am (or was it 1am Moscow time? Still so confused.) we arrive and we must gather all our belongings and change carriages, on the same train although. And the carriage was the oldest/worst yet although we had 2 very cool Dutch guys who we entertained and vice versa. One guy worked for the government as a lawyer in The Hague, the other a more melancholy freelance writer. This company was most welcome as this was by far the most frustrating portion of the trip, crossing into the Mongolian border. 4 1/2 hours still for just one carriage!!! And then more waiting once in Mongolia proper. Have you any idea how difficult this is for two 7 personalities on the enneagram scale? It's quite one thing when you're moving to be on a train for 24 hours, another to be stopped for half of that during daylight hours when the Siberian scenery was just getting interesting. Even more frustrating was learning the bus just took 12 hours and was cheaper. But I rant. This is when we started drinking vodka and warm beer and turning our train into a disco!
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Trans-Siberian shenanigans
1st jaunt on the trans-siberian railroad from Moscow to Perm was 20 hours and we were spoiled compared to the train we're currently on which unfortunately is triple the time although much more authentic but I digress. Finding the platform for the train was interesting, we had electronic tickets and were told that's all we needed, hmmmm, I tried to go through without a ticket and was quickly stopped by the scary Russian men in uniform. Backing up with my huge pack was not an easy feat, good thing they caught me as I was heading to the subway, that would have been a much less scenic 20 hour trip.
Compartments in second class consisted of four bunk beds: 2 up, 2 down, we had the upper accommodations which was cool as we always had our private space but did at times mean we were impeding on the downers' space, where the only common area to talk or eat was. Our carriage was shared with a young Russian couple, Dmitry, 23, and Oksana, 19, newly married couple and pregnant. Very nice Russian couple, engaging and interested in speaking to us in English. Aside from Richard, a friendly American traveling from Moscow to Irkutsk and eventually all the way across the Trans-Sib to Vladivostok, we were the only tourists. We all debated the virtues of American collegiate sports, politics, traveling, and life in general, over many a beers, well the boys outdrank me at least 3 to 1. Good fun!
Our first stop was Perm, a city built only due to its' strategic position along the Trans-Sib and made famous by Dr. Zhivago. It had a lot of Soviet charm and by this, I mean white, white, and more white with the random green alien selling computer gadgets on top of a white, white and more white shopping center. Stayed at the Hotel Ural, as we were on the western edge of the Ural Mountains, although the scenery was very flat and stayed this way for most of the trip. Perm did not leave much of an impression, was mostly just a stop off point to take a hot shower and watch clothes as the trains don't have showers and the next jaunt would be 60 hours, whoa! What I did notice was a lot of straight hair in Perm.
On the longest train journey I've had to date: 60 hours. Dreaded this knowing the train wouldn't be as nice and from the moment we spotted it, we were sure this would be a much more authentic experience as we were far and away the only tourists on board. Our time schedules never quite adjusted to the locals. All trains run on Moscow time and there are 9 time zones across Russia so going to bed at 2 am after reading, watching movies and what not in the dining car, we were really going to bed at say, 5 am and waking up mid-day Moscow time which was really 3 pm local time. We were never sure when to eat and one night, missed dinner entirely, were told only vodka and beer was available but managed to phenangle instant noodle soup, prawn crackers and peanuts out of the staff. I'm pretty sure today is Saturday, we got on board Thursday mid-day Moscow time which was two hours ahead in local Perm time. We arrive in Irkutsk Sunday morning 4 am Moscow time which probably means local time maybe 8 am? We will sleep 3 nights on the train, this is longer than we spent in Moscow. And somehow time does fly by, the daily routines of sleeping, waking, eating breakfast, reading, changing clothes and trying to converse with others and mostly just talking to each other seems to eat up the day.
I was quite sick when arriving on the train and felt badly at bedtime knowing I was waking the others with my cough. The lady from Vladivostok is a Doctor and gave me nasal decongestant and a throat spray and proceeded to show me how to use and wash the device, taking me to the bathroom in order to be sure I knew to wash it in between uses. Awwww, so sweet. She was a chatty woman, spoke no English, the only way we know where she was from was Andrew, the first man from Moscow who spoke some English. His replacement, Sergei, came in the middle of the night, this just when two Russian men took an interest in me with Igor kissing my hand repeatedly and giving me a thumbs-up, all this transpired when spoon man took advantage of the long train stop to get in a run. We were then invited into their room for some beers, I only knew the invite as he flicked his chin in an okay symbol, thanks for the tip, Amie! Found out he's in the military, doing what we have no idea as when we tried to leave, he proceeded to lock us in his room. Alrighty then. Most embarrassing moment so far was when we needed a private moment and both our bunkmates were gone so we locked the door but Natasha needed something in our room so spoon man let her in, she came and left quickly, closed the door and said "bye-bye" and proceeded to leave us alone the rest of the day. :-)
Food can only be described as passable at best. Fish, fish bones, and more fish bones, beans and mashed potatoes for breakfast, and instant Nescafe coffee, yeah, definitely not in Seattle anymore. The translations on the dining car menu are quite amusing: caesar salad is mayonnaise, peas, corn and cucumbers, not the worst meal I had although. That would have to be the bloated sausage and Eastern fairy tail steak. Lovely. I say all this and yet it was all a part of the experience, and one we did not share with the other Russians as they would never consider eating on the dining car according to the guide book. That explains the emptiness in the dining car and the reliance of the food cart and meals eaten in the compartments. I would go nuts spending as much time in the compartments as the locals do, each stop I wanted to get out and MOVE! I had train fever, got testily antsy only once and this was quickly solved with some fresh air, a walk outside at one of the many stops. And here I will only make one mention of the bathrooms: GROSS.
As a thank you to Natasha, we tried to give her a bottle of wine which then turned into a chocolate and wine fest for all with our bunkmates and Viktor, who spoke some English. Topics discussed included petrol costs, education, what we thought of Putin, why we were traveling, how we met, and where we've lived and traveled.
So far from St. Petersburg to Irkutsk we have traveled 3,742 km or 2,296 miles!
Compartments in second class consisted of four bunk beds: 2 up, 2 down, we had the upper accommodations which was cool as we always had our private space but did at times mean we were impeding on the downers' space, where the only common area to talk or eat was. Our carriage was shared with a young Russian couple, Dmitry, 23, and Oksana, 19, newly married couple and pregnant. Very nice Russian couple, engaging and interested in speaking to us in English. Aside from Richard, a friendly American traveling from Moscow to Irkutsk and eventually all the way across the Trans-Sib to Vladivostok, we were the only tourists. We all debated the virtues of American collegiate sports, politics, traveling, and life in general, over many a beers, well the boys outdrank me at least 3 to 1. Good fun!
Our first stop was Perm, a city built only due to its' strategic position along the Trans-Sib and made famous by Dr. Zhivago. It had a lot of Soviet charm and by this, I mean white, white, and more white with the random green alien selling computer gadgets on top of a white, white and more white shopping center. Stayed at the Hotel Ural, as we were on the western edge of the Ural Mountains, although the scenery was very flat and stayed this way for most of the trip. Perm did not leave much of an impression, was mostly just a stop off point to take a hot shower and watch clothes as the trains don't have showers and the next jaunt would be 60 hours, whoa! What I did notice was a lot of straight hair in Perm.
On the longest train journey I've had to date: 60 hours. Dreaded this knowing the train wouldn't be as nice and from the moment we spotted it, we were sure this would be a much more authentic experience as we were far and away the only tourists on board. Our time schedules never quite adjusted to the locals. All trains run on Moscow time and there are 9 time zones across Russia so going to bed at 2 am after reading, watching movies and what not in the dining car, we were really going to bed at say, 5 am and waking up mid-day Moscow time which was really 3 pm local time. We were never sure when to eat and one night, missed dinner entirely, were told only vodka and beer was available but managed to phenangle instant noodle soup, prawn crackers and peanuts out of the staff. I'm pretty sure today is Saturday, we got on board Thursday mid-day Moscow time which was two hours ahead in local Perm time. We arrive in Irkutsk Sunday morning 4 am Moscow time which probably means local time maybe 8 am? We will sleep 3 nights on the train, this is longer than we spent in Moscow. And somehow time does fly by, the daily routines of sleeping, waking, eating breakfast, reading, changing clothes and trying to converse with others and mostly just talking to each other seems to eat up the day.
I was quite sick when arriving on the train and felt badly at bedtime knowing I was waking the others with my cough. The lady from Vladivostok is a Doctor and gave me nasal decongestant and a throat spray and proceeded to show me how to use and wash the device, taking me to the bathroom in order to be sure I knew to wash it in between uses. Awwww, so sweet. She was a chatty woman, spoke no English, the only way we know where she was from was Andrew, the first man from Moscow who spoke some English. His replacement, Sergei, came in the middle of the night, this just when two Russian men took an interest in me with Igor kissing my hand repeatedly and giving me a thumbs-up, all this transpired when spoon man took advantage of the long train stop to get in a run. We were then invited into their room for some beers, I only knew the invite as he flicked his chin in an okay symbol, thanks for the tip, Amie! Found out he's in the military, doing what we have no idea as when we tried to leave, he proceeded to lock us in his room. Alrighty then. Most embarrassing moment so far was when we needed a private moment and both our bunkmates were gone so we locked the door but Natasha needed something in our room so spoon man let her in, she came and left quickly, closed the door and said "bye-bye" and proceeded to leave us alone the rest of the day. :-)
Food can only be described as passable at best. Fish, fish bones, and more fish bones, beans and mashed potatoes for breakfast, and instant Nescafe coffee, yeah, definitely not in Seattle anymore. The translations on the dining car menu are quite amusing: caesar salad is mayonnaise, peas, corn and cucumbers, not the worst meal I had although. That would have to be the bloated sausage and Eastern fairy tail steak. Lovely. I say all this and yet it was all a part of the experience, and one we did not share with the other Russians as they would never consider eating on the dining car according to the guide book. That explains the emptiness in the dining car and the reliance of the food cart and meals eaten in the compartments. I would go nuts spending as much time in the compartments as the locals do, each stop I wanted to get out and MOVE! I had train fever, got testily antsy only once and this was quickly solved with some fresh air, a walk outside at one of the many stops. And here I will only make one mention of the bathrooms: GROSS.
As a thank you to Natasha, we tried to give her a bottle of wine which then turned into a chocolate and wine fest for all with our bunkmates and Viktor, who spoke some English. Topics discussed included petrol costs, education, what we thought of Putin, why we were traveling, how we met, and where we've lived and traveled.
So far from St. Petersburg to Irkutsk we have traveled 3,742 km or 2,296 miles!
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Moscow: cold and conformist
Cold and conformist Moscow, at least that was my first impression. 4 1/2 hours by train from St Petersburg and it feels like a different universe entirely. Gone are the brides everywhere, here men in uniforms reign. And they really are everywhere. Have I traded in kitschy beauty and hope for the future for post-Soviet blah? Thankfully, this was not to be the case, Moscow grew on me, a mere 48 hours allowed just enough time to get a feel for the city. And I'd go back. But only in summer.
Arriving into the city, architecture is stunning but wow, what a big city, the largest in Europe. Having a bit of a cold and it being so cold, the first night was just a foray into the subway system, where I quickly learned it was acceptable for two people to use one ticket or jump over the turnstile entirely to avoid paying, all this within plain sight of scarily clad men in uniform. I participated in this as well, except for the time the turnstile caught me in the leg as I went through the wrong stile, oops. In my defense, those men in uniform freaked me out. The subway stops themselves are worth visiting for their art. Oh and this is where it's apparent we are no longer in Kansas, Dorothy, there is no English anywhere. Had to match letters of the alphabet to where we were going. Also much less smiles going on. On one occasion, we boarded an extremely packed train, you know the kind reminiscent of sardines, where an otherwise crabby old lady was complaining of getting pushed. Well, our friendly little pinata pressed into her and what do you think happened? Yes, Pin E brought a smile to her face; and many strange looks from others.
First tourist destination: the Red Square. Mother Nature decided to make our visit extra special with a hailstorm. St Basil's was colorful as expected and the one place we visited inside. Lenin's mausoleum was closed but the blingy shopping center, the GUM, was a warm respite and likely where the Oligarchs shop if nothing else. McDonald's by the Kremlin in the Cyrillic alphabet was hyper capitalism at it's finest along with the usual tacky souvenirs. Who wouldn't love a girly pink ushanka with the soviet symbol anyway?
We searched for an Azerbeijini and Armenian restaurant without luck. What we did find was a Ukrainian restaurant with Texas sized portions complete with a Ukranian babushka tending animals in the middle of the restaurant. I kind of wish I were kidding. Basically, everything was either meat or came with a side of meat. The usual borsch, or beet root soup, even had meat in it. I think the beer might have too. Another restaurant experience worth mentioning did not have an English menu so our waitress asked us if we wanted pork, beef or fish and brought out the corresponding meat meal, now that's service.
Other observations: there seem to be a lot of young, pretty women with older, larger men, money talks in this city. And this is where I'm being American, smoking is everywhere, I miss the clean air of Seattle. And contrary to what we were told about Moscow nightlife always going off, we did not go out as only Friday nights are happening. Too bad as the clubs are in factories, we saw one especially with massive bling on the outside.
Our last day in Moscow was spent visiting the site of the 1980 Olympics, the ones banned by Western countries due to the Afghan war. Spoon man lured me there under false pretenses to hit some golf balls at the range, I was under the impression we were going to the Novodevichy Cemetery. Boys and their balls. Eventually, we got there after a round of spoon tossing as witnessed by the most famous Olympic symbol, Misha, the mouse looking thing. The cemetery itself was beautiful, actually. The tombstones were mostly of military men who died serving their country (most of which looked angry) although there were some surprisingly abstract tombstones as well as Boris Yeltsin, Mikhail Gorbachev's wife, and I'm kicking myself I didn't know this at the time, Nikolai Gogol. Just neighboring the cemetery, is the beautiful convent grounds, again, home to some pretty amazing church architecture.
On a random side note, the problem I have with locking myself in bathrooms reared its' ugly head. I did it not once, not twice, but three times in 48 hours in Moscow. The first was in the hostel but here's a tip, it's a rather amusing way to make friends. From there on out, I didn't want to lock the door and once I finally did, yes, I locked myself in yet again. And the last was in a crepe cafe, by this time I can't stop laughing at myself. My most favorite bathroom I've ever locked myself in all time is a Paris port-a-potty. Just a random side note about bathrooms.
Onwards to the first leg of the Trans-Siberain railroad journey. First up: a 20 hour overnighter to Perm, a city that would not exist had it not been for the railroad, which Dr. Zhivago also calls home.
Arriving into the city, architecture is stunning but wow, what a big city, the largest in Europe. Having a bit of a cold and it being so cold, the first night was just a foray into the subway system, where I quickly learned it was acceptable for two people to use one ticket or jump over the turnstile entirely to avoid paying, all this within plain sight of scarily clad men in uniform. I participated in this as well, except for the time the turnstile caught me in the leg as I went through the wrong stile, oops. In my defense, those men in uniform freaked me out. The subway stops themselves are worth visiting for their art. Oh and this is where it's apparent we are no longer in Kansas, Dorothy, there is no English anywhere. Had to match letters of the alphabet to where we were going. Also much less smiles going on. On one occasion, we boarded an extremely packed train, you know the kind reminiscent of sardines, where an otherwise crabby old lady was complaining of getting pushed. Well, our friendly little pinata pressed into her and what do you think happened? Yes, Pin E brought a smile to her face; and many strange looks from others.
First tourist destination: the Red Square. Mother Nature decided to make our visit extra special with a hailstorm. St Basil's was colorful as expected and the one place we visited inside. Lenin's mausoleum was closed but the blingy shopping center, the GUM, was a warm respite and likely where the Oligarchs shop if nothing else. McDonald's by the Kremlin in the Cyrillic alphabet was hyper capitalism at it's finest along with the usual tacky souvenirs. Who wouldn't love a girly pink ushanka with the soviet symbol anyway?
We searched for an Azerbeijini and Armenian restaurant without luck. What we did find was a Ukrainian restaurant with Texas sized portions complete with a Ukranian babushka tending animals in the middle of the restaurant. I kind of wish I were kidding. Basically, everything was either meat or came with a side of meat. The usual borsch, or beet root soup, even had meat in it. I think the beer might have too. Another restaurant experience worth mentioning did not have an English menu so our waitress asked us if we wanted pork, beef or fish and brought out the corresponding meat meal, now that's service.
Other observations: there seem to be a lot of young, pretty women with older, larger men, money talks in this city. And this is where I'm being American, smoking is everywhere, I miss the clean air of Seattle. And contrary to what we were told about Moscow nightlife always going off, we did not go out as only Friday nights are happening. Too bad as the clubs are in factories, we saw one especially with massive bling on the outside.
Our last day in Moscow was spent visiting the site of the 1980 Olympics, the ones banned by Western countries due to the Afghan war. Spoon man lured me there under false pretenses to hit some golf balls at the range, I was under the impression we were going to the Novodevichy Cemetery. Boys and their balls. Eventually, we got there after a round of spoon tossing as witnessed by the most famous Olympic symbol, Misha, the mouse looking thing. The cemetery itself was beautiful, actually. The tombstones were mostly of military men who died serving their country (most of which looked angry) although there were some surprisingly abstract tombstones as well as Boris Yeltsin, Mikhail Gorbachev's wife, and I'm kicking myself I didn't know this at the time, Nikolai Gogol. Just neighboring the cemetery, is the beautiful convent grounds, again, home to some pretty amazing church architecture.
On a random side note, the problem I have with locking myself in bathrooms reared its' ugly head. I did it not once, not twice, but three times in 48 hours in Moscow. The first was in the hostel but here's a tip, it's a rather amusing way to make friends. From there on out, I didn't want to lock the door and once I finally did, yes, I locked myself in yet again. And the last was in a crepe cafe, by this time I can't stop laughing at myself. My most favorite bathroom I've ever locked myself in all time is a Paris port-a-potty. Just a random side note about bathrooms.
Onwards to the first leg of the Trans-Siberain railroad journey. First up: a 20 hour overnighter to Perm, a city that would not exist had it not been for the railroad, which Dr. Zhivago also calls home.
Monday, October 11, 2010
St. Petersburg -- land of canals, palaces, and vodka!
Peter Pan and Tinkerbell's 6 month journey has begun in style, first stop: St. Petersburg, Russia! The most northern stop on our journey. And it was cold, could've used an ushanka, even in October. The travel bug is alive and well, loving to be in a foreign land where the only words I know are yes, no, and thank you. Somehow we've managed to get by with charades, pointing, and smiles....so far. However, a crash course in the alphabet may be in order for the Trans-Sib portion.
If it weren't for the russian language and cyrillic alphabet, St Petersburg could be confused with a European city. Between the ornate palaces, churches, and canals, Peter the Great built a stunning city from swampland. Our only encounter with the Russian mafia so far had to be the taxi fleecing, cars just pull up to you, unknown if they are taxis or not where negotiation is king. We thought we could avoid this with an official looking taxi, you know the kind with a taxi sign on top and a meter, but no, he was the biggest fleece of all, a mere double the price from the airport to our hotel which took 45 minutes, this trip was just 10 minutes and consisted of driving around the block. Dinner was just over half of the cost of this taxi ride. Karma did return its favor, one Tjikstani driver walked us to our Georgian restaurant. And many others probably only fleeced us a little.
St Pete had surprisingly friendly people offering up smiles. Well aside from the security ladies manning the Hermitage Museum, that is. Or maybe that was the result of the company I was keeping, hence forward he will be called spoon man. (Apparently, it is frowned upon to carry orange spoons and make noise with it.) Very impressive art collection, impressive state rooms and wow, the chandeliers. This museum claims to house the world's most impressive and finest art collection. Yes, indeed, although I will likely remember the views and the rooms itself as well as the history during the siege of WWII, where 2,000 staff members and families were provided shelter below the museum.
History aside, our first night was very aptly begun with a trip to the vodka tasting room. Beluga!!!! Also tried fish preserved in aspic, interesting, just a weird gelatinous texture seemingly preserving the fish. And of course, the usual suspects of chicken Kiev, beef stroganoff, and borsch soup. Now is probably the most relevant time to mention my obsession with food while traveling: I talk about it, take pictures of it, write about it and can't wait to try the next food of the region. It is what I do best when traveling. Must. Try. New. Food. Every. Day. And meet new people, of course! Made our first friends at the tasting room courtesy of some lipstick lesbians kissing out front, an immediate connection was made between fellow Aussies. We joined this group of international university recruiters, some of which were Russian, clubbing. Ypa!! Nightlife is great here, multiple clubs, a cabaret and out all night on 2 of the nights, would've been more if jet lag were not an issue. If I could now make a recommendation, avoid Club Deny at all costs. The first night we tried to get in with the group of international peeps with only half of us successful, the next night my imaginary boyfriend and I tried, they took one look at his shoes and DENY. Ok, starting to get a complex here and then the last night of course, tried it. So did it with style: wearing my beanie and tennis shoes. Oh yeah. DENIED.
And a word about the girls here. It must be said. They could use some help in the beauty and fashion department. Their killer looks and hot outfits on skinny bodies are wasted on the typical Russian man, these are lucky men, my friends.
Other activities included a canal cruise which we both promptly fell asleep on; walking up to the Mariinsky theatre, famous for Tchaikovsky's works, and asking for 2 tickets to Mozart's The Wedding of Figaro, in tennis shoes; the Peter and Paul fortress with a picnic dinner of gourmet hamburgers and pizza. The most memorable parts were just wandering around and checking out the hoods, the random monastery we found after taking the water taxi purposely going the wrong direction, taking pictures of all the shoes and FMBs surreptitiously and buying cans of pre-mixed gin and tonic from a corner market, cute coffee shops, riding the Metro and last but not least, liquor lane, where any type of beer or alcohol is sold and then promptly consumed on the street.
And now on our first of many train rides across Russia. Next stop: Moscow!
If it weren't for the russian language and cyrillic alphabet, St Petersburg could be confused with a European city. Between the ornate palaces, churches, and canals, Peter the Great built a stunning city from swampland. Our only encounter with the Russian mafia so far had to be the taxi fleecing, cars just pull up to you, unknown if they are taxis or not where negotiation is king. We thought we could avoid this with an official looking taxi, you know the kind with a taxi sign on top and a meter, but no, he was the biggest fleece of all, a mere double the price from the airport to our hotel which took 45 minutes, this trip was just 10 minutes and consisted of driving around the block. Dinner was just over half of the cost of this taxi ride. Karma did return its favor, one Tjikstani driver walked us to our Georgian restaurant. And many others probably only fleeced us a little.
St Pete had surprisingly friendly people offering up smiles. Well aside from the security ladies manning the Hermitage Museum, that is. Or maybe that was the result of the company I was keeping, hence forward he will be called spoon man. (Apparently, it is frowned upon to carry orange spoons and make noise with it.) Very impressive art collection, impressive state rooms and wow, the chandeliers. This museum claims to house the world's most impressive and finest art collection. Yes, indeed, although I will likely remember the views and the rooms itself as well as the history during the siege of WWII, where 2,000 staff members and families were provided shelter below the museum.
History aside, our first night was very aptly begun with a trip to the vodka tasting room. Beluga!!!! Also tried fish preserved in aspic, interesting, just a weird gelatinous texture seemingly preserving the fish. And of course, the usual suspects of chicken Kiev, beef stroganoff, and borsch soup. Now is probably the most relevant time to mention my obsession with food while traveling: I talk about it, take pictures of it, write about it and can't wait to try the next food of the region. It is what I do best when traveling. Must. Try. New. Food. Every. Day. And meet new people, of course! Made our first friends at the tasting room courtesy of some lipstick lesbians kissing out front, an immediate connection was made between fellow Aussies. We joined this group of international university recruiters, some of which were Russian, clubbing. Ypa!! Nightlife is great here, multiple clubs, a cabaret and out all night on 2 of the nights, would've been more if jet lag were not an issue. If I could now make a recommendation, avoid Club Deny at all costs. The first night we tried to get in with the group of international peeps with only half of us successful, the next night my imaginary boyfriend and I tried, they took one look at his shoes and DENY. Ok, starting to get a complex here and then the last night of course, tried it. So did it with style: wearing my beanie and tennis shoes. Oh yeah. DENIED.
And a word about the girls here. It must be said. They could use some help in the beauty and fashion department. Their killer looks and hot outfits on skinny bodies are wasted on the typical Russian man, these are lucky men, my friends.
Other activities included a canal cruise which we both promptly fell asleep on; walking up to the Mariinsky theatre, famous for Tchaikovsky's works, and asking for 2 tickets to Mozart's The Wedding of Figaro, in tennis shoes; the Peter and Paul fortress with a picnic dinner of gourmet hamburgers and pizza. The most memorable parts were just wandering around and checking out the hoods, the random monastery we found after taking the water taxi purposely going the wrong direction, taking pictures of all the shoes and FMBs surreptitiously and buying cans of pre-mixed gin and tonic from a corner market, cute coffee shops, riding the Metro and last but not least, liquor lane, where any type of beer or alcohol is sold and then promptly consumed on the street.
And now on our first of many train rides across Russia. Next stop: Moscow!
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