We follow Lake Baikal as the sun rose, reflecting colors of pink and purple. We gather out belongings to get off at Irkutsk. Coming out of the train onto the platform, dragging our suitcases behind us, I came to the realization that we had to go down at least 30 steps and under the track. My suitcase weighs about 45 pounds and I think just for this trip down the stairs, it added another 100 pounds, or at least it felt like that. Much to my dismay we had to walk up just as many stairs to get to the main level. I was ready to throw everything away and wear jeans and my parka for the rest of the trip. I dread the reverse trip on the 11^th. I asked myself how many 72 year olds are dragging suitcases up stairs? I should be proud instead of being very grumpy.

Our guide Kristina apologizes for the inconvenience and rushes us off to a waiting car. Our driver Andre does not speak English but manages to find us a “Subway” open Sunday morning for a cup of coffee. Who would have thought our only option for coffee was “Subway.”

We are facing a 6-hour trip to Olkhon Island, the largest island on Lake Baikal. It is relatively uninhabited and is 70 kilometers long. It rises out of the lake and is known as the home of the Siberian Shamans. The landscape goes from barren prairie or steeps to forest. Kristina is a walking history and geography encyclopedia with excellent English. She loves this island and it is apparent in her enthusiasm for the landscape. She had just returned that day from the island in order to pick us up and was just as happy to be back.

Our accommodations’ at Nikita’s Guesthouse was a welcome change after the train. A comfortable bed, an ability to wash clothes, and bodies. Hot water would have been a treat but the bathroom was warm.

We toured around the beach to Shaman Rock , looking down on it from a bluff. The lake is still frozen in areas and if you are very still you can hear the ice shifting. Magpies flutter from tree to ground and the local dogs adopted us along the way. Shaman Rock is sacred to the Boryat people who were a fierce tribe of people who even fought off Ghanghis Kahn. The Buddhist also feel the rock has special powers.

The town could be a movie set for a western. Dirt streets, wooden houses, and wooden fences, some with elaborate windows but generally the village looks abandoned at this time of the year. Although it was a holiday on May 9^th (Victory Day), there were only a few tourists spending the weekend. Electricity did not come to the island until 2005 and we were mighty happy that it did, so we could recharge all of our devices. There was still no wifi available.

I feel so lucky that I read about this island and made arrangements to come here. Most people get off in Irkutsk and visit the lake on a day trip and never get to see this area. Shap and I have not stopped exclaiming at the beauty that enfolds us at every turn.

Scenery that cannot be described, with valleys stretching for miles, tiny purple flowers blooming in rocky soil, old stone walls built by ancient tribes, and sacrificial stones believed to sacrifice animals; all with a backdrop of Lake Baikal’s deep blue color. Lake Baikal was created by a riff in the earth and is said to widen 1 meter every year.

Our next day proved to be one of the most interesting drives through countryside that we have ever experienced. An off road vehicle arrived and we climbed into it with no expectation of what was to come. We were unable to go into the forest as it was dry and the local authorities were worried about forest fires, so we went south over the steepes. Immediately we turned off the main road, this was hardly a road having been built recently, not only was it not paved, but it was not smoothed either. Driving on old pathways we bounced from side to side and up and down over terrain that looked to be part dirt and mostly rock. Our local driver was full of folklore, which Kristina translated for us. In most cases it was a dreadful horse turned to stone, or lovers turned to stone – it seemed every story someone was turned to stone. We followed pathways up small mountains covered with dirt, rock, cow dung, and sometimes-small spring flowers. We watched the movement of the ice on the lake, and experienced the winds, snow, and sun.

Shap trying out for a job as a guide since he has the same hat as they are wearing. 

Two lovers turned to stone after they were told not to be together. They were allowed to be together but could not face each other so they now face away from each other on the stone.

Shap and Kristina on top of one of the Trident rocks

With no houses, or villages anywhere around we were surprised to pull over at a beach and watch our driver pull out from the back of the jeep (?) a table, camp stools, and cooking pot. We walked along the beach and up to a look out, then we came back to find a pot full of fish staring up at us.

I could feel Shap’s reaction without even looking at him. He does not like fish unless it comes fileted to him on his plate. Eyes, tail, and bones were all floating around ready for our consumption. Tin bowls were filled with steaming potatoes, rice, onions; and thank God the body of the fish and not the head. It was delicious, but how to attack the chunks of fish was the question. Finally I stabbed it with a spoon and got off a chunk and picked up the rest to extract the skeleton. What was that black tube in the middle of the skeleton? Oh no don’t look or think about it, just put it aside on the napkin and ignore it. It was a great lunch and so much better than any restaurant we could have stopped at, if there were any!

Six hours of the most amazing sights, something we are so happy to experienced.

Tomorrow back to Irkstuk.

 

 

 

 

 

“Sit quiet, don’t say a word, and pretend we do not know that our visa into Russia does not start until tomorrow.” I whispered to Shap as a Russian border guard appeared at out door and demanded our passport and visa.

“You have broken the law, you cannot come into Russia until tomorrow, why you break the law? “ commanded the border guard as he leafed through our passport pointing to the date on our visa. We did not have much luck convincing him that it was a mistake. He kept repeating the same sentence, then on the telephone, then on the radio, while other border guards peered in on us.

“What should we do, can we buy a day visa?” I figured that this must have happened to others. “Nyet, you have broken the law, you go back to Mongolia.” Having been warned by the Mongolian border guard we were to be prepared to be kicked off the train, we had packed up our bags. Our new Australian friends are peeking out from their cabin wondering if we will be in never-never land unable to get back into Mongolia without a visa. They did not know a visa was not required for U.S. citizens. The guard keeps vigil outside our cabin, there is more communication in Russian to an unknown entity. Shap and I sit looking at each other, waiting. I keep rolling over questions in my mind such as: if there is a place to stay, if there is a train back to Mongolia today or will we sleep in the train station until tomorrow. We are ready for an adventure no matter which way it goes we are remaining calm and figuring there is nothing we can do.

Finally our guard states that we can pay a fine, 2000 roubles apiece. We offer to pay and he says no, bank. Where are we even near a bank? He leaves, then another guard tells us to move out of the cabin and he checks every corner of it. He leaves; next a woman comes in and wants to go through our luggage,that seems to be ok. Another guard tells us that we have to go outside with our entire luggage, so we start to get it together.

We had managed to break the ice with our original guard by mentioning we could not call Trump to get us a visa because we did not vote for him. But now he was gone and sense of security was lost.  A woman came,she spoke better English and told us to leave our luggage but to get off the train because we had to fill out paperwork.. Relief ! Paperwork was like a word from heaven, never in my life have I been so happy to do paperwork.

In the station sits “our friend” the border guard, I exclaim “Our friend” and everyone laughs. The woman has us write a statement that we do not speak Russian, we made a mistake and came too early to Russia on the train, and we do not need a lawyer. There is fingerprinting and mountains of paper work and questions. It takes so long that the female guard has seen pictures of my family, of Stowe, of the ski area, and our male friend types away. After it is all over, I say “thank you from the stupid Americans”, and they laugh. We have become friends.

We must go to a bank within 60 days and pay the fine and then send the receipt to an address printed in Russian. No one wanted to be paid. I was worried that we were holding up the train, but as we come out our train sits on the track by itself, no engine, no other cars, and this is where we stay for 5 more hours waiting for an engine. No wonder it takes two nights to get to Irkutsk.

Miles of desert dotted with sheep, horses, goats and yak go by our window. A sleepless night and endless miles of desert do not deter the excitement of what is ahead. The pace of the train is perfect now; it slows down time and allows you to digest your travel and relax. When you give yourself over to the rhythm of the train, you become quiet and observant to the world around you.

Mongolia, I never thought of going to Mongolia. I knew that Ghangis Kahn had lived here and the scenery was spectacular, that people lived in Gers (yurts) and it was rich in minerals. The countryside was where we wanted to go, as cities do not interest us as much. Our guide, a young male Mongolian, met us with a smile and hurried us off to our jeep. Soon we left the city behind, driving across desert with a hint of green. Horses everywhere, we are told they are not wild but belong to the nomad families. It is a nomadic culture that is recently moving into the city. Ulaan Baatar has a population of 1.5 million people, Mongolia has 3 million people.

The land is free for people to build on, the apartments in the city are not. There are gers just outside the city, some with houses and a ger in the same enclosure. We are told people move to the ger in the winter because it is warmer and live in the house in the summer.

In Terelj National park we stop to visit a nomadic woman in her ger and choke down a sip of fermented mare’s milk, eat some pieces of cheese curd and ask her questions through our guide. She moved to the city to take over her parents’ property and animals. She has eight children that live in the city. Her ger is decorated with beautifully painted beds; a TV and refrigerator add a modern touch. She tends the sheep and goats and her horses roam free. I still cannot understand how they get their horses to come to them since they roam for miles around. They appear wild to me.

The ger camp sits under huge rocks that have been sculpted by the winds and the sand. Some rocks teeter precariously ready to topple over. Turtle rock is a famous rock that defies gravity.

Shap and I wake in the middle of the night and take our cameras outside to photograph the scenery and the moon. We disturb the horses and yaks that are grazing by our ger, they wonder who these strangers are ruining their late night snacking.

After the communist left Mongolia in the 1990’s, many of the Buddhist temples were rebuilt where the communist had destroyed during their tenure.. In the park a temple was erected in the same location as the original, among the amazing rock formation. I learned from the caretaker who spoke one English word “elephant” that the 108 stairs to the temple was like an elephants trunk, and the temple wings were its ears. He then took me by the arm and we walked together up the 108 stairs counting 1-10 in Mongolian.

On the way back to Ulaan Baatar, we were treated to the most amazing feat of engineering and sculpture I could ever imagine, a 40 meter high statue of Ghangis Kahn in stainless steel. Conceived by a wealthy businessman it took 500 engineers from all over to put this together. Words cannot begin to describe the grandeur of this sculpture sitting on his horse looking out to the countryside. Is it over the top? Yes! But whatever you think of it, the concept and execution of it is mind-boggling.

A look at the city center where the local ladies are gossiping on the bench in front of the government center, a stop at the huge mall for train food and then on to Lake Bikail and our next adventure.

(Train through Mongolia)

At the moment we are one lonely train car waiting to be connected to the Russian train on the border of Mongolia and Russia.

 

We have been on and off the train since May 3^rd with no wifi or cell service. We left Beijing on May 3^rd and arrived in Ulaan Baatar May 4^th. Last night (May 5^th) getting back on the train for two nights I have time to reflect and write about our trip knowing that I will be unable to send this out possibly for another four days. These blogs may be long but to get the flavor of the trip I have to be a bit descriptive.

Overnight train travel is so unique from other means of transportation, We have a two person berth, but many people find themselves co-habituating with two or three strangers, all speaking different languages. The space is tight, the luggage is stowed under the seats and privacy is limited or not at all. Everyone gets on the train with bags of food, water, and luggage, looking refugee-like. The boiling samovar at the end of the car is coal fired and provides an endless stream of hot water, which has proved necessary for everyone to prepare meals. Out of everyones bags come varieties of international dried food to be reconstituted into meals; freeze dried chili for us, pasta primavera for dinner or lunch today, even freeze dried raspberries, I am regretting forgetting the oatmeal.

(interruption from a rather severe looking Russian female border control, they seem to be all business and somewhat intimidating.)

What is unique by traveling this way, is the instant friendships you strike up. For a moment in time you connect with someone and share history, stories, and the excitement of the trip. You stand in the corridor swaying back and forth conversing in sign language or many people speak English. We met a couple who traveled all over Canada and the U.S. who lived in Beijing. At our stop in Ulaan Baatar we hugged and exchanged cards like old friends, hoping our paths will cross in Moscow. Last night we met some women from Australia, that remembered us from the Beijing train.

The first night on the train we knew that we were going to have a three hour wait at the border of China and Mongolia because, believe it or not, the train has to change wheels because China’s track is different from Mongolia and Russia. At midnight, we were jolted out of sleep by clanging and banging. Next came the Chinese border guards collecting passports, then the porter distributing exit cards to be filled out. Back to sleep, close the door, Shap is in the upper bunk so I am the one that gets up, fills out the cards and he peeks his head out for the guards to verify that the man in the bed is indeed the picture on the passport. They do this by turning on the bright overhead light to blind you out of darkness. They leave with the door open and the lights on.

 

Then more jolting and banging and the train moves. We are now about an hour of interrupted sleep every 10 minutes or so, just enough time to fall back to sleep. Back come the border guards with the passports. Then back to sleep. Next come the border guards to collect the paperwork. Shap is back to sleep, me, I am out in the corridor talking to our new found friends. Back in bed, did I mention that the “mattress” is one half inch thick, and there is no heat because all the doors are open at each end of the car for the constant flow of traffic. I am digging for my long underwear,Beijing was 80 degrees and now it is about 40.

After what seemed like eternity our train moves forward, I have no idea how many cars we have attached to us but I know there are several. I look out to see another sleeper car on the opposite track high up in the air being held up by hydraulic jacks. Somehow and I have no idea how, new wheels are being attached to the train. I don’t know how they got the old ones off the track and the new ones on. I wave to the people looking out the window on the other train and take pictures of the process.

Soon we are being jacked up and they are taking pictures of our process while being lowered down on the wheels. I give up and go back to sleep, now that I have seen this rather complicated process. Charlotte, my new found Chinese friend, talks about how ridiculous this is in our day and age.

 

Shap has been lounging in his upper bunk watching the process. I am convinced we are on our way and go back to sleep. Ten minutes later or so, the Mongolian border guards arrive at our car. Lights on, I have now decided to sleep in public and not close the door. We produce our passports and off they go. Shap had insisted that I did not have to fill out the cards but I of course did not listen to him. They do not want the cards. Back to sleep, the guards are back to get the cards. Ok, I get the Kindle out and read, I have given up on any sleep. Ten minutes later, we get the passports back. It is now 3 AM and the train begins to move again. I am awake and reading, then ,finally close the door, turn out the lights and close my eyes, awakening at 7 to stumble down to the samovar to make instant Starbucks coffee.

We go to find breakfast, walk into the dining car to find it has been transformed into a beautiful hand carved ceiling and walled Mongolian themed dining car. It turns out with each country you get a new dining car and a new menu. Lunch was ok but I think we will be sticking to freeze dried food as I understand that the Russian food is terrible on the train.

We get off at 2:30 pm in Ulaan Baatar.

 

 

Off to the Trans-Siberian Railroad. In today’s paper there seems to be a problem in the public toilets. People are stealing whole rolls of toilet paper! To prevent this problem, the government has put in each toilet a face recognition camera to ensure that you do not use too much paper. One women was arrested after the camera showed she had been in the toilet twice in too short a period of time. See article below.

 

Cragged Rock where the Silk Road came through the village of Cuandixia

The village entrance

 

 

Driving through Beijing, it is evident that China has changed greatly in twenty years. There is new construction everywhere, with high-rise apartments on the outskirts of the city housing thousands of people. On the plus side, there are many more trees that have been planted, so the city is not as stark as it was. Along the highway there are rows of trees and climbing roses, however no birds to be seen in residence.

 

Our hotel, the Red Garden Inn, is in the Hutong area and is delightful. You drive along a very narrow street to a small gate that opens to what one would imagine a home before the revolution might have looked like. Courtyard, beautiful handcrafted beans, painted in traditional Chinese designs, fountains made from clay pots bubbling in corners, and art everywhere. Even the room numbers have artistic touches with paintbrushes or a teapot under the number.

 

Our destination was the village of Cuandixia, two hours outside Beijing. It was reported to be a charming preserved village created 500 years ago where the Han family lived during the Ming Dynasty. Pictures and descriptions brought to mind a thriving village set into the mountainside with beautiful trees and flowering bushes. Driving there we passed gigantic electrical towers intertwining and snaking down a valley that resembled a dry riverbed. Touring on either sides of the road were cragged mountains that posed a threat of tumbling rocks blocking our pathway. Once again, Shap and I found ourselves riding on winding roads with 1,000 of feet drop-offs and no guard rails. We seem to have the uncanny ability of finding in every country their steepest, most challenging roadway.

 

Cuandixia appears to be in a National Park due to the fact that we had to pay to get into the area. There is no indication of this other than a checkpoint. Of course, if we read Chinese it might all be clear. Arriving there, you could look upward on the mountain to see rows of stone homes and cement tiled roof tiles. It might have been more authentic if the roof tiles had been clay, but restoration has taken place and now cement seems to have replaced the old clay and stone building methods. However, the village was laid out exactly as it had been with the wealthy living high on the hill and the poorer people at the bottom. At one time there was a river flowing by but it is a dry riverbed now.

 

We climbed up on uneven stairs, through courtyards of homes shuttered closed. The doors with rice paper coverings were torn, and the entire village had the look of abandonment. The popularity of the village has waned. A shrine sat above the village with a winding pathway leading to it. Spectacular views of the mountainside and the rooflines of the village were worth the trip alone. We ended the climb walking through a fragrant pathway of flowering bushes.

 

Out guide suggested a “short” walk along the old silk road (now a two lane highway) to an area where the rock walls squeeze the road into a zig -zag of rock walls with long cervices snaking through the rock threatening to disengage at any moment to block the roadway. The short walk in the hot sun turned into over a mile of uphill and an apology from our guide that forgot the distance. All was worth it once you happened upon these rocks. An abandoned primary school was carved into the rock with a wooden doorway, carved openings for windows which was the only indication of an entrance. Dark, damp and cave-like, it would not be an encouraging place to study.

 

Tomorrow the first leg of our Trans-Siberian adventure.

 

It is 6 pm in Seoul and the airport is busy. Happy Birhday to Shap, my wonderful husband and travel companion. It has  the feel of any other airport in the world, even a Dunkin Donuts is here. I would recommend Korean  Air to anyone; clean, polite and business class was a god send. Found an amazing discount and it was worth the extra money. Not that much more. Sleeping prone actually does help your outlook. 

Now that I am far away from home my anxiety of being torn between Vermont and the world has lessened. Watching people here in the airport you realize how homogenous we have become. I can pick out clothes and bags from all over but many of the products are American. We are all in this together and no matter what Trump says, I do not see how we can untangle and move backward to a world without international trade.