We decided to stay awake because just an hour after leaving Irkutsk, having climbed through the same hills that a day before we driven over, we were treated to stunning views of Lake Baikal. As the train descended the lake came into view, initially through gaps in the rocks, soon stretching into wide panoramas. Eventually the tracks ran within yards of the shoreline.
I can confidently say this has to be the best part of the route, not only did the lake glimmer in the Morning sunlight, but the track was also fascinating. Twisting and turning, climbing and falling. It made for a thoroughly enjoyable morning. Simon Calder, the travel writer, suggests that it is possible to run from one station to the lake, shredding clothes as one goes, before returning (at a fast pace) uphill just in time for the trains departure. I can't confirm this, because the lack of sleep caused me to nod off. Will I ever have another chance to streak in Siberia?
All the beds on our train were full. Opposite me a lady called Lina kept fussing over the folds in the tablecloth. I kept untidying it when she left the room, I call it enrichment, and I like to think that she has had a more satisfying journey because of it. Opposite Gamma sat an unidentified Russia male. He wasn't terribly forthcoming, preferring to watch several hours of Spartacus, a program that seemed to be on repeat on the cabins tv. He left the bunk once in the first 24 hours, to stock up on hot water for his dried noodles and buy a snickers, the program was that good!
We ate in the restaurant car, our first sight was the chef having a smoke in the kitchen. Further on, the car was a slightly comical attempt at recreating the glamour of the Orient Express. I have never travelled on the old Venice-Simplon, but I have never heard of it having a Karaoke machine inside! The waitresses amused themselves by ignoring the customers, preferring to sing (I use the term loosely) like a deranged walrus. It was the perfect backdrop to a simple Russian beefsteak with fried potatoes (smothered in dill, of course). Gemma ordered from the vegetarian menu, A tomato and cucumber salad. All I'll say is that it's a good job she likes tomato and cucumber, because she didn't get anything else!
We returned to the cabin and fell asleep to the sounds of gladiators fighting (and making love), and by the time we woke up the landscape had completely changed. We were just above Mongolia, but the rolling hills, trees and grasses remind me more of a wild west movie. I could just as easily imagine a weathered old gold prospector or an outlaw riding down towards the train as I could an indigenous tribesman.
That is, until you see the people. In fact only about 30% of the people living here are indigenous. The rest are of Russian stock, and almost to a man covered from head to toe in tracksuit or similarly shiny synthetic material. The 80's craze for shell suits has just reached Siberia. Everywhere you go you will find an Adidas store, and the prices are even higher than back in England. Branded sportswear is definitely en vouge. In fact my adidas hoodie is probably the reason I keep being asked directions by Russians.
After my daily wash (not easy, the sink is the size of my fist and the water but a drip) I was surprised to discover Gemma engaged in a conversation with Lina in Russian. "We've been here for 2 weeks" I thought " and she hasn't once told me that she could speak Russian!" Gemma glanced up at me as I stood, open jawed, I the doorway. From the look on her face it was evident that she didn't understand a word!
Lina was talking quickly and excitedly with many hand gestures. The guy in the bunk above leant over the side of his bed and chipped in a few words. Realising that we didn't understand, Lina unpacked her camera. Photographs of a dog, then a tiger, followed by a chimpanzee. At this point the two Russians began talking to each other and as Lina pointed at the chimpanzee the guy said the word 'family'. We really didn't know what to make of that, but from the following hand gestures we were given to understand that Lina's relative would take food from her hand while scratching his arse! There's always one in every family eh!
Besides swapping amusing family anecdotes, the days passed in much the same way as all the previous days on board. In truth we both became a little restless, tired of eating dried food, eager for fresh air and the chance to stretch our legs. It was with great relief when we eventually arrived in Vladivostok. Neither of us had slept well,the carriage attendant having woken us up at 3am because they had not checked our tickets correctly. By 7am we were making our way out of the station, climbing one of Vladivostok's many hills. We were both feeling quite rough, still getting over colds that we had picked up en route.
When we eventually found the hotel Equator, they wouldn't let us check in so we left our bags and wandered back in to town with four hours to kill. Desperately tired, hungry and unwell, we discovered a little cafe called Studio Coffee. We both ordered a latte and as we sipped our drinks we watched enviously as another customer received his fried egg breakfast. The menu was in Cyrillic script so we reached for Gemma's picture book and pointed at the eggs. The waitress nodded in accordance and took our order to the kitchen. She returned with two plates of eggs, bacon, beans, tomatoes and toast. I was so happy that I nearly cried, a bleak morning had been transformed.
During the day we wandered through the streets of the city. It is quite a European city in many ways, not entirely Russian. There are winding, hilly streets, pedestrianised areas and small boutique shops. When we returned to the hotel, via a walk along a deserted beach front, we both had a well deserved sleep. The hotel itself was ugly, mouldy and generally run down, so I won't dwell on it.
In town that afternoon we found an old Soviet submarine, mounted beside the harbour, with a museum onboard. We climbed inside, and although we couldn't read the displays (containing medals, photographs, uniforms and weapons), some parts of the submarine had been left intact, including the captains bedroom, the periscope and the torpedo tubes.
The following day, after a very dubious breakfast in the hotel, we returned to the harbour and prepared for our voyage to Korea. We checked in at the given time but we told we had to wait another 2 hours before boarding, so we sat outside the terminal in the sun.
Here we met a ragtag band of fellow travellers. First Pierre and Clement, two young Frenchmen who are missing their homelands cheese supply. Then Curran, an Irishman travelling alone, and Eric, a German making his way to Japan to study. None of us could quite work out the curious boarding procedure, but we all eventually met up on deck and enjoyed the wonderful views of the huge bay in which Vladivostok is situated as the ferry made its way out of the port.
Even after leaving the port and the bay, the waves hardly made an impact on the boat. The sea was as calm as a millpond. After a brief sleep in our cabin (futon style beds in a four person room) and watching the glorious sunset, we found our fellow travellers and decided to go to the boats nightclub. A bizarre evenings entertainment was laid on for us, awful dancing, dodgy singing followed by a Korean DJ in a bow tie playing (excessively loud) techno style music - to which a number of middle aged Koreans began raving. It was too surreal for us so we returned to our futons hastily.
Tomorrow we reach Korea, and we are both very excited by the prospect. Onboard there are little tasters of what it will be like, such as the dried roasted soft squid in the Supermarket (like a fishy jerky, not nice at all) and the kitsch designs of the soft drinks in the fridge. Earlier I nodded my head towards a Korean staff member. They bowed to me in reply. It seems like it will be a friendly society and somewhere we'll both enjoy.
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