Author Archives: planetlars

Perm, Russian Federation

I’ve only just started to notice but it’s been happening all the the time: people biting on sunflower seeds, cracking them open, spitting out the husks, black on the outside and white on the inside and eating the seed. All around the little groups of people, in parks or on rivers’ edges, drinking or chatting, you will find accumulated at their feet the growing organic detritus of this the national habit. The pigeons come in and clean up the rest.

Perm, Russian Federation

Like the Volga in NN, the banks of the Kama River here in Perm are also hemmed in by concrete embankments. Slightly less in width than the Volga at NN and appearing less turbid a sullen sky hangs over its surface. Some kind of inland gull dips in for food and I see the little fish occasionally jumping. Over the traffic noise above me in the city I can over hear three people on water’s edge laughing uproariously over matters unknown. The main story teller is laughing so much that he can’t continue the with his humorous tale. And soon all three are slapping thighs and rolling around. From my vantage point above the concrete slopes I can see up river to smoke stacks and a riverside industrial site. Seemingly not far from these stacks are burgeoning high rise estates. To the north over the river are smaller private riverside plots with quaint cottages on them. And in the distance I see a rise and all the way up to it is green with the characteristic canopy outline of broad and pointy tree tops: pines, firs and beeches. Behind me in the park land four young women are racing their ponies and horses at full gallop down the centre of the park. They look so intense as they speed past, horse hair and girl manes flowing and tossing in the wind and motion behind them. And just now a single fighter jet roars overhead heading southwest. Soon it’s beyond earshot and I again hear families talking, while I play my game of picking out words and phrases from their conversations that I fail to understand.

Perm, Russian Federation

The Russian rail network, in fact the public transport network as a whole, is something to behold. It seems the imperatives of socialism towards ensuring basic needs for all has meant that the public transport system, while at times a little ‘tied up with wire’, caters well for all able-bodied persons, almost door to door. Now it’s not like I haven’t experienced public transport systems that cover all needs before. In Latin America where I’ve spent a great deal of time, it was always only just a matter of standing on the road and you could pick from a number of passing options. The difference in Russia is that the forms are varied and in relation to the train network, the single biggest national terrestrial transport system in the world in terms of geographic coverage – I dare say China may lead in terms of volume of passengers moved – they appear to be well scheduled and always on time. The LP reports that an incentive commission paid to train managers and drivers for being on time means that they are so. In terms of their varied forms I’ve seen metro lines emerge from long long escalators (70m down) to link directly with tram lines or monorail lines or electric trolley buses or normal combustion engine buses (official) and the informal marshrutkas. Then there would be water-buses (in SPb) and chauffeured pedal powered passenger bikes as well. Last night wandering about Perm I took the rickety old tram that came in on a special tram turning circle right in front of Perm II station. At 12 roubles a ride anywhere it seems inexpensive. All short distance transport seems quite cheap and straight forward, whether it’s 25 roubles to ride anywhere in the metro system of SPb or Moscow or half that for of the regional city buses, trams and electric buses to ride any distance on the line in question. Another notable difference to Australia is the prevalence of public transport staff throughout the system. Whether it be the metro guards and attendants scattered throughout the laberintine tunnel systems of the SPb and Moscow metros to the ever present conductors on all short distance buses, trams and metros to the hardest working provodnitsas on the long-distance dormitory trains. I’ve stared down many a bottom-of-escalator guard siting in their lonely glass covered cabin as you spend the better part of three minutes descending the long incline in the company of many. I say ‘lonely’ because despite being surrounded by an endless parade of ever changing people they don’t interact with anyone. I suppose they’re there for security in the advent that the escalators break down and mass panic sets in. As a I recall a friend in Perth saying once, “a good city public transport system is one where you never need to consult timetables, you just rock up and wait for the next one, which ideally shouldn’t be more than a few minutes away”. Well this is the Russia I’ve experienced so far for sure. In the SPb and Moscow metros I don’t think I ever waited more than 45 seconds for a train heading in my direction. And usually it was less than 20 seconds. And I changed lines a number of times over a number of days. Anyway, maybe these are the musings of a man told to head west but chose east instead.

Perm, Russian Federation

24 June 2012, Perm Free city festival zone She was selling cats in cages and when I caught her eye, cats eyes fixed my stare right back as I moved on a time warp between the bustling Perm crowd. She was selling photos with a mischievous monkey near the corner of the street where the crowds milled waiting for the pedestrian traffic lights to turn green. She talks with her monkey, chastising it. Despite the thick crowds she and ‘he’ had a special relationship.

Perm, Russian Federation

Zdrastvuytye! Greetings from Perm (population 1 million). A thoroughly restful and socially engaging 14 hour trip from Nizhny Novgorod (NN), which is on the famous River Volga. After standing on its silt-laden edge, looking across its broad and swift flowing expanse, and also crossing high above it on the new trans-Volga cable car (which links NN – itself perched high on a rampart of an embankment – with the growing satellite town of Bor on the flat forested landscapes on the northern side) I have some serious river envy! But I suppose this is something all Australians will suffer from in these boreal zones of fluvial affluence. Health wise, apart from tired feet and shoulders from walking and backpack carrying, I’ve just a little bit of traveller’s tummy to report but nothing to worry about. I’m loving the strong local garlic! After a full day in NN (see separate blog – if I get to it) I caught the 23:00 service heading east to Siberia. A lovely Siberian couple with their 10 year old son shared my four-bunk section of the dormitory carriage to Perm. They fed me sweet stewed apple-filled buns and gave me tea bags to use with the samovar (hot water service at carriage’s end). I’m getting the hang of things now in this quintessential trans-Russian public transport. It seems I’m slowly building up to the truly mammoth journey times required to make head way across Russia. And it may appear I’m progressing in a vaguely logarithmic fashion. From SPb to Novgorod it was three hours in the electric train. From there to Moscow it was 8 hours. From Moscow to Nizhny Novgorod (NN) a little step back with six hours journey time. From NN to Perm was 14 hours. And tomorrow, on a train trip to one of the most northerly points on the Siberian rail network near the Ob Gulf just shy of the Arctic Circle. (Note: they’re building a rail link further north still, to the west of the Ob Gulf, half way up the Yamal Peninsula, Western Siberia). Tomorrow’s trip will be 40 hours! The place on my ticket just below the Arctic circle says – in Cyrillic- Новый Уренг&#10 86;й. I think it may go further than this out to the Ob Gulf. I’ll find out I s’pose. I’ve no idea what’s there. The Lonely Planet is silent in the matter. I’ll have to come back south on the same line to continue my journey east on the main west-east lines. In short I meet kind people everywhere. But no English speakers since I left St Petersburg (SPb) and Moscow. Mile after mile of green forests of pine, spruce, fir, beech and oak. I can see Russia has most of the world’s supply. Huge expanses. And the look of the people is slowly changing as I approach the border between Europe and Asia. It’s been flat mostly from SPb, Moscow and out to here in Perm. But as my logarithmic journey times continue I expect things will change. They always do.

Nizhny Novgorod, Russia

I was wanted to take a ride across the Volga River on a massive new cable car. It must travel at least a kilometre and the two river bank pylons must be 80 metres high. I didn’t have a purpose to get to the satellite town of Bor on the northern bank opposite Nizhny Novgorod. I was just going for the views.

I had been walking from the ancient kremlin and was now down on the River Volga’s edge. I followed its concrete trained banks downriver until the concrete walls gave way to natural banks. A Saturday arvo, people were strolling and fishing. I’ve been amazed at the number of young women I’ve seen all taking posed photos of each other. Maybe I never noticed this in Australia but it really seems to be much more prevalent here. The quintessential pose involves photographee prepping their hair and make up. The photographer then giving tips on location and pose. Then without fail the photographee strikes the pose: slight sideways stance or sitting, legs slightly crossed, one hand on hip, head turned toward the camera, and flick of the head to get the long curls to fall just right. It all starts again when the photographee and photographer change roles.

Further down the banks I saw a sign for banya and then I came upon the huge sandy sections back from the waters edge where families played beach volley ball. Near here a section had been dredged out forming a long canal back-filled by river water. A makeshift motor and a cable system was being used to tow skiers. It was a bit noisy as the dat dat dat old motor kept stopping and starting as the skier was always falling off.

I kept heading toward the cable car and soon realised that the terminal was actually back up the hill on the southern embankment. I was looking for a track up. I asked a young guy walking down for a track that I though went back up that way. He ended up walking back up with me on a narrow bush track. It was clear he wanted to practice his English. I was happy to oblige despite only needing his directions for a shorter time.

The queue was a 15 minute wait to get the 50 rouble (AUD$1.20) one way ticket. I wasn’t sure if it was one way or not at the time.

After some great views over the river I alighted on the other side and immediately went to ticket office to buy my return. I was a little anxious as it was 21:00 and my overnight train to Perm was departing at 23:00 and I still had to walk back from the cable car station to my room at the linguistic university student college.

When I approached the end of the return boarding queue the cable car just filled had a few empty seats. In front of me were a family wishing to wait for the next car so as to travel together. So I raced around them and jumped in the car to join a young crew of cool types. One had an out of tune guitar but this didn’t stop them all singing some great songs on the 10 minutes ride back over the Volga. I actually really enjoyed it. They were quite oblivious of me. But I did offer my applause, to which they smiled politely. I didn’t understand the lyrics of course in Russian but they sang them well and with so much passion. Rock ballads I would classify them as. I managed to grab a video on my camera and sound recording on the phone.

I thanked them again as we arrived back at the terminal. And after walking 20 minutes I found the college. I bought some supplies for the train. Instant noodles seemed popular given hot water was readily available in the wagons. Vera, with whom I’d left my luggage this morning was there ready to call me the taxi at the cheaper rate. I grabbed my washing off the narrow balcony while she called the car. But it didn’t come straight away and I was starting to panic. She was telling me it was a 40 minute ride to the station. I found that hard to believe as it didn’t seem that long when we’d arrived the night before with Yuri and that was after we’d walked for 20 minutes looking for hotels. Anyway in broken Russian I tried to explain that I was just going to go and hail one on the street. She rang a third time to check. Got the car number. And I took the stairs all the way down. I didn’t see it immediately but the guy was there just having a smoke away from his car. He raced me in 15 minutes to the station and all was good.

The train arrived and I waited until there was space for me to manoeuvre down the narrow dormitory aisles. I walked too far and the provodnitsa came and guided me back. Just doing an about face with my front and back packs was difficult in the narrow aisles. A young couple, Aleks and Ina (Inga) with their ten year old son were sitting in our four bunk section. The provodnitsa on inspecting my ticket discovered that I hash paid the linen surcharge. I paid her the 100 doubles without questioning. It seemed reasonable. After making my bed I fetched hot water from the samovar for my noodles and sat down to eat.

I asked Aleks to take a photo of me once I was wedged into my top bank and settled in for a rather early night, not long after midnight.

I woke at around five and it was very light outside. I think hunger pangs were what brought me to life. I waddled down the aisle past the varied crowd of babushkas, families, young single men and Japanese girls for my morning ablutions at the end of the carriage. The place was a riot of white tossed linen and staring faces. It momentarily reminded me of some kind of prison scene.

Back at my partition my compartment companions were up and I was prompted to sit on Ina’s white sheet bed. Outside the green festival of trees continued. And they helped me name them in Russian: beroza (birch), sozna (pine), queyedra (cedar), el (spruce/fir), taparl (poplar), eva ( willow) and doob (oak) (my attempt at phonetics).

We spoke for a few hours swapping the most basic of information only as we didn’t speak each other’s language. Ina gave me a recipe for her homemade Russian version of baileys. Occasionally they would ask their son for a word but he was quite shy.

I’d been sitting all this time opposite Aleks (a factory worker) and Ina (home maker) in my underwear but such is the dormitory space that the outside world’s rules just don’t apply – well so it seemed.

After eating my dry bread supplemented kindly by Ina’s apple-filled sweet breads I felt tired and went back up into the bank to sleep. and sleep I did. The new provodnitsa woke me shaking my feet, which protruded quite pronouncedly into the aisle. It was 30 minutes to arrival in Perm.

Boots back on and things stowed. Phone charged in the communal power outlet. I was ready to alight. We swapped emails and Ina promised to send that recipe to me. Aleks kindly helped me done my pack and suddenly I was on the non-elevated platform of Perm II.

I walked in to the station terminal and spied a large rail network map of Russia. I saw the most northerly point on the network and bought a ticket for the following day. An unplanned and impromptu act on impulse. Not sure what I’ve got myself in for.

Nizhny Novgorod, Russia

The stuff of geography for me in the early 80s. The Volga River. And I’m here in Nizhny Novgorod (population 1.25 million) on the high banks of where the Oka meets the Volga through the kindness of others.

Six hours east of Moscow on the slow train. I met a guitar teacher in the last 4 hours of the trip and he noticed my little guitar. I played a few songs in the dormitory carriage. And had a few beautiful pieces returned to me. He was a very happy young chap and while his English was limited he was keen to try. The young woman who’d been so fastidious with cleaning her sparkling white designer sand shoes turned out to be an excellent English speaker and a mother of a young boy who was being looked after by her parents in Perm. She lived and worked an studied in Moscow with her husband and preferred her son to be brought up in the relative cleaner air of Perm. She had been laughing at the neighbouring partition’s occupants’ questions of me. The older man Victor had been asking me through the young guitar teacher what my salary was, how much my trip cost and if I was married with kids. When I saw he understood I asked and we then started talking. She was a little apologetic for the standard Russian questions aimed at foreigners.

On alighting at Nizhny Novgorod kind Yuri (who’d taken the seat of my previous opposite when he had alighted earlier) took me under his wing. Two hours later with a couple of ‘no room at the inn’ scenarios he found me a cheap but clean and friendly establishment in the linguistic students college (albeit after a lot of laughs and my broken Russian). I’m really feeling my lack of language now that I’ve left my English speaking friends in SPb and Moscow).

I said goodbye to Yuri. Such an unassuming and helpful man. I’ll probably never see him again.

My Russian is being suddenly exposed for what it is: rudimentary at the extreme. The lovely room attendant and gate keeper just smiles. At least she knows I’m trying.

I went looking for my late night supplies and a happy student bought me the country’s favourite beer (AUD$1 for 470mL). I then went to out to the street high above the valley to watch the sunset alone over River Volga! Such an awesome river. And to think of the mega landscape and catchments it drains!

Walking this boulevard I realised that this must be the midnight parking spot as suddenly scores of cars were parked along the street with youths and young people all clamouring for each others attention. The street drinking culture is huge. I like it. But there were plenty of I’ll effects to be seen.

After hitting the ATM and taking a punt at what the non-English options were saying I successfully withdrew some cash enough to pay the room attendant. And needing to be back before Cinderella hour of midnight I hurried past a 24hr family corner stored and got some snacks. The security lady recognised me and I passed into the student college.

Playing some toons on the guitar, aided by the exceptionally strong ales (8.1%). The guitar is small, probably a child’s and inherently a little out if tune but good for my needs. Accord (Аккор&#1 076;) is the brand. And I expect big things from it!

Moscow, Russia

1330: A rush to the station but I still had 20 minutes to spare before departure.

I spent the morning at the Kremlin with Andrei who came to meet me. I’d erroneously lined up at the huge Kremlin gates queue only to be told as we were entering that I needed to get my ticket back over at the ticket office beforehand. Andrei had just arrived and so we had fo force our way back out of the queue. I’d also need to leave my backpack and guitar at the bag office down in Alexander Gardens. By this time the queue had moved on quickly and we were able to enter by 1030am.

There was some kind of government meeting so much of the area was closed off. A huge building inside the Kremlin was undergoing renovations and so a huge photo-realistic canvas facade was covering the entire work site. It was hard to tell if it was real or not.

Guards would pipe loud on their whistles if anyone strayed off the footpaths. And I got my fare share of whistle warnings. The crowds were enormous and while Andrei gave me good commentary we moved fairly quickly through the various cathedrals within the walls of the Kremlin. During the Soviet era Stalin took the Kremlin off the World Heritage list so that he could construct new soviet style buildings within its walls, which still stand today in stark contrast to the other historic buildings. Before the Soviet era the Kremlin was always open to the public and the Tsars’ and Emperors’ proclamations were read out in Cathedral Square here. During the Soviet era the kremlin was closed off. In the early 90s the Kremlin returned to the World Heritage list.

The Tsar’s absolutely enormous period canon was impressive with its one tonne canon balls stacked up by the side, as was the 200 tonne bell on show. An 11 tonne piece had cracked off and was propped up against the bell at the base.

After biding farewell to Andrei I headed back to Smolenskaya Metro station to the Hotel Bulgarov to grab my bags and brave the world’s smallest toilet (I was just leaving the door open now and hoping for the best – see previous post). With all my gear on my back and chest (and the guitar neck right in my face sticking out the top of the dayback) I headed back down the long steep slow escalators to Smolenskaya Metro to get to Yaroslavski Train station. The metro station (Komsomolskaya) was in fact the same one that I used when I arrived into Leningradsky train station last Tuesday morning. They call this metro the place of three railways stations as Leningradski, Yaroslavski terminal and another national train terminal are in close proximity to the one metro.

I was in the dormitory wagons. My provodnitsa was much younger but sterner than my last. I was in a sleeping car with a series of open compartments and fold down beds. Like the dog box I’d come into Moscow on but all open. A full train that left on the dot on time as usual was a clean and ordered affair. People looked prepared and changed clothes for bed and made their beds early. I was on the opposite side where the beds folded down parallel to the long axis of the train.

I hadn’t bought additional provisions but had enough to munch on: some spiky Russian cucumbers, some warm pliable mozzarella-like cheese, some hazelnuts and a couple of oranges. I then bought a cup of tea from the provodnitsa. And there was some confusion when she said it cost 13 roubles (about AUD$0.25). My ability to understand Russian numbers is getting better and so I thought I’d heard right. But I didn’t think it could be so cheap so I questioned her again and in the end gave her way too much. She returned with the change.

Out the window the flatness and green forest continued. I am yet to see a mountain or any significant topographic relief at all. The barn-shaped rooves (with their two staged roof slopes) of the cottages on their little plots growing their own veggies typified the outer limits of Moscow. Outside people walked about in shorts and skirts. And some of the men bare chested. Today is the longest day of the year. And interspersed with the green green forests of birch and oak and the occasional pine plantations, the villages continue unabated.

The sun pours in on my side of the train. I’m not sure if I should set up the bed. Something I’ll have to negotiate with my opposite I suppose, a young man who reads and listens to his iPod.

We’re two hours into the trip with another four to go to my stop of Nizhny Novgorod. This train continues to Perm, which is where I’ll go soon.

Moscow, Russia

By the time I’d navigated three metro lines from ВДНХ to Park Kulturi (Gorky Park) I had just about finished drinking the local summer brew of honey beer (medavukha). There was another massive Euro 2012 fan zone on the edge of the Park on the banks of the Moscow River, with lots of doof doof music. I went instead cruising Gorky Park along with 100,000 other muscovites on foot, bike, skates, you name it. Some eating, some sleeping. Some arguing, some loving. Some playing table tennis on the public tables.

It was after midnight and the crowds were still huge. I was enjoying the stroll and taking night photos with my tripod (using the old mini one as the telescopic one I got from Leedervillle is useless). The huge bronze statue of Peter The Great stands taller than the Statue of Liberty at the head of a small island on Moscow River. It’s a bit controversial as Peter the Great didn’t like Moscow. It was he who moved the capital to St Petersburg. By the time I walked back to a different metro it was nearly 1am. Back at the hotel I was quick to remove my big Scarpa boots. All this city based walking was taking its toll. No blisters. Just tired feet.

It had been another busy day. But one spent on my own for the first time. I’d by chance bought a cheap small Russian guitar at the massive soviet era exhibition park – ВДНХ – now sadly a shopping zone for the el cheapo. But the soviet era monumental style is awesome. And the 1964 100m high monument to soviet space endeavour, topped by a rocket is simply soviet!! (see previous post).

It’s a go city Mockba (Muskva). Leave for Nizhny Novgorod tomorrow (Friday) on train. Then from there to Perm on Saturday night train.

Moscow, Russia

I’d smelt the honey beer in SPb and so I wanted to try some. I was at the ВДНХ (the soviet national exhibition built first in the 1930s) and was simply blown away by the carnival atmosphere. There was something for everyone. I walked into the monumental entrance to the old Soviet Assembly, replete with a massive crescent staircase rising to a giant colonnade of Corinthian columns. When I entered it was a run down market hall full of tacky shops selling everything from Russian dolls and electronics to automatic rifles and handcuffs. I stumbled upon a guitar shop and ended up buying the only small sized guitar in the shop. A Russian made one. A bit rough round the edges. No case. But the body fits nicely in my day pack. With a spare set of strings and a pick thrown in I headed on on into the sun and crowds. Past soviet emblems, statues and giant pavilions, each one different to he next. On the outskirts of Moscow this ВДНХ complex covers 200 hectares and the promenade runs two kilometres. Having sampled the Квас (the malted non-alcoholic liquor brewed from bread) I was still on the look out for honey beer. I suddenly spied ‘Medovukha’ (Myodavukha) and went to investigate. Ended up buying two litres. Lovely stuff! Gave the hot afternoon a fuzzy glow.

On the way into ВДНХ you can’t miss the Cosmological Museum and the 100m high titanium-clad monument to Soviet prowess in space. Built in 1964 to commemorate the Soviet-first wih Sputnik, it’s the first thing you see when you emerge from the ВДНХ metro station.

As I was leaving ВДНХ, happy on Мед Meade, guitar in the backpack. I walked past the entrance to the temporary Euro 2012 fan zone complex. Out the front young women in prerequisite tight-fitting Russian football outfits were trying to get the crowds to enter. Enthusiasm had waned since Russia was ejected after losing to Greece. I went over to ask them to take a photo of me in front of the fan zone just for a laugh. They then insisted that a few of them jump in the photo with me. I wasn’t objecting!

The carnival atmosphere was palpable. I came upon a small muscle man with a makeshift chin up bar erected and a huge crowd gathered. After finally finding someone who spoke English and who knew what the game was all about, I learnt that the man was challenging people to hang from the bars with whatever grip they preferred for longer than 1 minute nineteen seconds. The bar was fairly thick and was like a barrel in that it rotated. I didn’t give it a go but apparently you paid a small amount in the hope of bearing his record. He had a little portable PA on his belt and he stood spruiking quite proudly in his gym suit. Every now and then he’d stand up on the chair under the bar and demonstrate the favoured under arm grip in which he kept his arms bent and the top of his wrists beat over the top of the bar. All that was missing was the snake oil.