Dear All,

hm, getting very confused. I think I haven't sent this e-mail yet, but then last time I checked for the draft of it I'd written, hotmail had lost it. So if you've read all of this before, apologies. If not, enjoy.

I made it to Russia! It strangely feels like going home, even though I am still oodles of miles away. Perhaps it is because it's got one leg in Europe? Who knows.

But more on that later, the last bits of Mongolia first, my four days of bottom-pummeling. Yes, four days only, read ahead what happened to the other two days! The group consisted of eight people in all. Simon and Emma, married, and Sue, a good friend of theirs. And myself. And then four mongolians; two to take care of the horses, a cook and a guide. And 10 horses in total. All of the above were very nice (including the horses), although the Mongolians, save the guide, spoke no English at all. We also found out that the two horsey-mongolians were crap at packing the packhorses, we had to have regular repacking stops as our packs were falling off! And yes, we had a cook. So although we were roughing it (sleeping in tents in different places every night, peeing in the wild, washing very occasionally in icy-cold streams) we did have good meals: often even three courses! I don't even do that at home! The park we rode through, Terelj, to the north-east of Ulaanbaatar, was very lush and green. It even had trees! It took a day or two to re-learn how to use them for loo-breaks though, after a few days seeing wild, one forgets. It was hilly, too, leading to some very nice views over green valleys with rivers in them. And lots of wildlife. Not only horses, cows, goats and sheep, but also yaks, a few camels (the two-humped variety) and lots of birds-of-prey, I think hawks (? not sure at all). The many fields of blooming (not bloomin'!) flowers, varying in colour from white to a dark bluish-purple passing bright orange, further complimented the whole scene. The odd ger (white round felt tent) was the cherry on the ice cream. Very very impressive - and it left a taste for more in my mouth.

The horses were in so-so shape - mine collapsed four times from under me. Although this is a great way of getting off a horse, as you just step over it when it's on the ground, it is not generally recommended. And no, it has nothing to do with my spare tyre, before anybody quips. Not only am I loosing (some) weight, other people's horses had similar trouble. Probably a lack of proper care (of the horses, not us) caused it. The riding on the whole (and apart from the collapses) was fine. Initially the horses didn't want to go, so with all of us choo-ing (the command to make them go was "choo") we sounded like an old computer game! But it got better during the trip. None of you will be as pleased as I was when you hear that I sat down the entire train trip to Russia after the riding, and my thighs and calves are in good shape too. I do have two bald patches on my calves. I rode someone else's horse for an afternoon as it was a strenuous and optional part of the trip, and the stirrups were too short. Still, much better than I could have hoped for! That was one of the more enjoyable parts of the trip for me, as it was off a path, so through rivers and bushes and woods and things - feels like you're charting unknown territory for the first time. The best day was our fourth day of riding, because of it being the worst day. It was really sunny and hot. We were riding through boggy marshy ground so the horses would sink up to their knees into the stuff. And the guides would get lost, or at least we needed to detour every so often as we ran into a river or so. Plus there were lots of flies and horseflies we had to fight off, some horses appeared to be bleeding quite badly even! So it was tricky to get the horses to behave the way we wanted, they were quite nervous and fidgety. On top of that, to the tune of all our choo-ing, the horses were farting! Loudly! And lots! We all laughed our heads off... which seemed to be the best way to deal with it.

The riding was cut short to four days as on the night of that day, Simon had an epileptic fit, the first he had in a very long time. Luckily nothing bad happened and so he emerged unscathed, if feeling somewhat "off" the next day. That day one of the horsey-guides rode out to someone with a mobile phone (a three-hour stint galloping) and then in the afternoon a van picked us up. As we lost a day of our trip that way, the company who organised it did give us a tour of Ulaanbaatar (well, of the selected sites we wanted to see) the next day, and I got a lift to the station when I left for Russia. Oh and yes, Simon was alright after that.

No mistranslations in Mongolia as I saw in China, at least not that I saw, but I can give you these. An old man's hat read "morlc dup" which I think was meant to read... "world cup". And a cocktail in a bar was named "gin pizz". Cheers...!

The train to Russia, 26 hours for 20 dollars, not a bad deal at all! There were three other people in my compartment, one Ukrainian and two Mongolians. The youngest was about 9, the others 40-ish. They were very friendly indeed, sharing all the food they had and insisting I take some of it. At some point in Russia the Ukrainian woman got off the train at a stop and bought some smoked fish, which she insisted I tried. It was apparently called "omul", and was actually very nice, though a challenge to eat with your hands: it was a whole fish, head and all... I offered the only thing I could easily share in return, some chocolate biscuits, but the offer was greeted with utter disgust. The expression on their faces was one of absolute shock and horror, as though I'd just thrown a small child off the train! Sheesh. I guess as a guest, which I guess is how they viewed me, I was not supposed to offer things to my hosts.
The border transition, as perhaps expected, was entertaining. It took absolutely forever - in all we were stood for 12 hours! We arrived about 4am but nothing happened until some 5 hours later. The Mongolians were not in a rush. When they were done and we were allowed off the train we found that of the 12 carriages, only 2 were left. And no locomotive either?! Eventually we got to the Russian side, where the proceedings started again. More checks - this time I got told off as I didn't have an arrival and departure card in my passport as part of the visa. Apparently a simple "hello I'm here" and "goodbye I'm leaving" isn't enough. I had visions of spending a lot longer in Siberia than anticipated, but they took my passport and returned it a while later with all the others, no further questions asked. I also had to fill out two copies of a customs form declaring all foreign currencies. I got one copy back, other foreigners didn't. It all seems a bit... random really. And then we had to wait again, for another locomotive and another piece of train. With a British couple we decided the best way to understand it all is by having the Monty Python theme-tune running through your heads continuously. And to expect a big foot from the sky any moment. But at least we'd made it to Russia. First impressions were that the borderguards were no longer pre-pubescent pushover karate kids. These guys could grow beards, carried big guns and looked dangerous.

Eventually, still on time (!!) we made it to Ulan-Ude. Yes on time, something to do with the trains running on Moscow time. A clever trick, that, Steven Byers (or whoever it is now for whatever company) could learn from it. Ulan-Ude is a small town, but is very nice. It's main attractino is a big Lenin-head on the main square. It feels, as the Good Book (Trailblazer Trans-Sib guide), like being Dorothy and talking to the Wiz of Oz. I missed out the buddhist monastery near the town (having seen many of them in Mongolia/Beijing), but did visit two churches in the town, Russian orthodox of course. As it was Sunday, there was a mass going on. The churches were very different: beggars in front of the entrance dispensed blessings for cash; inside there were no benches or pews, just... fresh grass?! People were continuously walking in and out, buying candles and other paraphernalia, and lighting the candles in front of the many icons in the church. The population consisted mainly of older women, but was reasonably representative of the whole population, I'd have thought. Especially bizarre, in both churches, were the priests. They'd give a sermon or lead a service, but people would walk in, listen for a bit, leave... Odd. The other distraction was that the priests looked like Rasputin's uglier brother. The hair, the beard... ugh!

The town itself is, somehow, very Russian. Cars (Lada, Skoda, Volga, very few western) are old, as are the buses, and trams. And no, a Lada is not pretty, not even when you drape a buxom peroxide blonde over them, as they did for a television quiz show. People - many European-like people, but still many Asians (Ulan-Ude is the capital of the Republic of Buryatia, a part of Russia populated by the Buryats, descendents of the Mongolians). The dress-sense is quite simply awful. The older generation never made it beyond the last World War, which might explain the large number of war films on the television. The younger generation, well, someone should tell them that tracksuits are really not a fashion statement! Blokes on the whole wear old-fashioned looking shirts and polo-shirts. Women dress tight and/or revealing, but in garish colours and/or flowery patterns. And then the peroxide blonde... The words "80's pop-video hell" probably describe this the best.
The buildings in the town are part really Soviet - huge, old, with peeling salmon-pink paint, hinting at a once glorious past. Which would explain slogans like "Glory to the Soviet People", still found on some buildings. Perhaps more impressive are the old-style wooden buildings, with often decorated window-sills. They are too big to be called cabins as they often consist of more than one floor, and are constructed of sometimes complete tree trunks. Very different from anything else I've seen and very nice indeed.

For visa reasons I was staying at a good (read: overpriced) hotel. It had a business centre, bank, sauna, gym, beauty salon and even a stomatologist (no I don't know what it is either but we had one anyway). But only Monday to Friday, 9-5 (bloody useful if you arrive Saturday evening) But the room was clean, the bathroom reasonable. And I had a television, with all of six Russian channels. So I could see on the news there was huge flooding somewhere, but I don't know where (Dagestan, I eventually found out). I even had a phone in the room, and after it was fixed, I received the apparently obligatory phone call: I picked up and only two words were uttered (no, not heavily breathed) - "sex services". For science sake I should have been more inquisitive to ask them what this entailed, but I didn't. I said no and they hung up.

The weather here has been very hot and muggy in the morning, with thunderstorms in the later afternoon. One of these cut the electricity to a part of the town, including the cyber cafe I had hoped to use. As I stood there waiting for it to be restored (which didn't happen), I got talking to a Russian who spoke German - he studies it at University. Interesting chat, and I realised I could do with more practise too. Plus - speaking German, to a Russian, in the middle of Siberia?!?!
My next stop was Irkutsk but first I needed a train ticket. I went to the station and there was a huge queue for the ticket office. I foresaw scenes involving clubs and broken bottles and blood when it was finally my turn and I took forever not speaking Russian. I took a deep breath, a step forward - and then noticed there was a desk for foreigners. Where they spoke no English (well, I am in Russia), but at least no-one else was there. And with hands and feet, and a phrasebook, we managed it. Hurrah!
Irkutsk was a seven hour trainride away, along Lake Baikal. So there I was, comfortable on my berth in the train, watching the lake pass by. A very surreal experience. The lake is huge and deep (it could give the entire world population drinking water for 40 years, apparently). The views of the lake from the train, over small villages consisting of wooden houses and cabbage patches, were idyllic. Although I'd dred to think what it'd be like in winter!

In Irkutsk I met up with Nicole, the mad English teacher from Ulaanbaatar; we spent a few days together here but at the end we go our separate ways again. Irkutsk is a bigger version of Ulan-Ude in some respects, although some of its streets do really deserve the nickname of "The Paris of Siberia" as they are lined with stately old buildings. Intriguingly it seems more modern too, with more modern and western cars, more modern shops (United Colours of Benetton, even!) and a more modern sense of dress (he breathes a big sigh of relief). Also went back to Lake Baikal for a day, sadly it was cloudy most of the time I was there. Drank the water, as it's pure enough, and was rewarded with a distinct lack of gastric problems (phew!). I had hoped to go for a swim, as this is supposed to prolong your life for 25 years, but it was too cold for it. I could manage standing in it up to my knees (seven years at best, I guess), but even then after no more than 30 seconds, I could look at my feet and easily think they were someone else's.

The main problem with this city is that all the shops are hidden. That is you see the windows but there are no names. Finding restaurants is nigh impossible, let alone hotels! Took a while to find the one I'm in now. They are really good at hiding things. Even when you do find a restaurant, the menu is a challenge. They are obviously inspired by Dostoyevsky or Tolstoy, as each is at least 700 pages long and comes in various chapters with very curious titles indeed. Appetizers, starters, first courses, salads, soups, garments, first main course, second main course, desserts, fruit, hot drinks, cold drinks, cocktails, beer, wine, vodka (of course!), spirits. But then all in Russian. And they specify the weight of each of the ingredients involved, and the price. Ordering takes forever, and you need to order everything. Just a main course means just some meat or fish. Potatoes? Separately. Veggies? Separately. And if you order bread, it goes by the slice. So when I asked for one bread (I thought a portion), I got one slice. Remember the Monty Python theme-tune? But the food is good, the people are patient for me to decipher the menu, etc.

Finally, the language. As before, most people do honestly try to be helpful as I fumble with my phrasebook. Sadly, this sometimes really doesn't work. When I asked a cyber-cafe about their opening hours, having found that in a phrase-book, I got an answer that was longer than the proceedings of the G8. All I wanted was two numbers on a piece of paper. Being able to read the cyrillic is a great help, and with a mix of other languages, the phrasebook/dictionary and the few words I know in Czech (from several trips there) I can figure things out. Talking is out of the question, but as I said before, most people do try to help and that is what matters. In all, Russia has been very pleasant so far.
As I write this I am about to leave Irkutsk, tomorrow afternoon actually, to move on to that most siberian of places - Novosibirsk. After that it's Yekaterinburg, then Volgograd. From either of those I'll report in again.
Until then, da sveedanya!

MAPK (as my name reads in Russian)

P.S. Mistranslations - none yet, but in one restaurant a kebab was described as "animal on small swords"...!

P.P.S. Another monster e-mail. Sorry. Must remember: it's not a thesis. 

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Mark Krebs, England, 2002