Thursday 26 July 2012

Vladivostok

Current location: Tokyo, Japan


The final 4 days of my Trans-Siberian experience brought me to rainy Vladivostok.
Equipped with a piece of paper carrying a name, an address and a number of a bus I set out to find my host, Roman. After wandering about in the soaked hills of Vladivostok for a few hours I finally located his apartment, and he was really surprised to see me, as I had not confirmed my arrival.

My first order of business was to secure a ticket out of the country, as my visa was about to expire, and I didn't want to get in trouble with the Russian authorities due to overstay. I've done that before in Indonesia, and the matter was solved by paying the fine right there at the border, but for some reason I figured it wouldn't go down so easily in Russia.
As my research in Irkutsk had revealed the ferry I wanted to take only operated on Wednesdays, and the next boat having been booked full, my only option was to fly. So much for my plan not to fly on this trip.
So I bought a 200 euro ticket straight from Vladivostok to Haneda, Tokyo.

With the ticket safely under my belt I set out to explore the city that is home to the longest cable-stayed bridge in the world.
The next day the rain was gone and replaced by scorching sunshine, which of course meant that I soon acquired that oh so typical reddish glow on my face, neck and arms.
People say Vladivostok is only interesting for a couple of days, but I think I could've spent a week or two there without getting too bored. As usual I wandered around town without much sense of where I was actually going, but managed to find a couple of interesting places.

The city offers much to the concerned photographer, but when I point my Cannon at something the result is more like what you would expect to get if you handed a camera to a macaque overdozing on caffeine.
I've actually named my style of photography. I call it "suppressive fire". To those of you not familiar with military jargon, it basically means I point my camera somewhere and pull the trigger for a while and hope I get a good picture or two.

I visited Russky Island, which sports numerous old forts, artillery stations, underground passages and garrisons, to check out some of the artillery units which, while still perfectly operational, now serve as tourist attractions and got a tour at one of them by the old commander of the unit, a lieutenant-colonel turned tour guide.

On the morning of my flight Roman and I had breakfast on a hill overlooking Vladivostok. On the way down we passed a junkyard guarded by dogs the size of little horses, and having seen similar earlier in Afghanistan I wasn't too worried. Only this time I wasn't wearing body armour and carrying a rifle. And sure enough, one of them charged me from just outside my field of vision. Had Roman not called it out the damn thing would surely have caught my forearm in it's jaws and ripped me to pieces, but I just managed to pull my arm to safety, and the beast only caught the hem of my shirt a bit. That was the beginning of a day that would turn from bad to worse.

I had checked how to get to the airport in time for my flight and left early to enable at least an hour of getting lost or otherwise finding the right bus etc. I got downtown easily enough, and then found the place where the bus to the airport was supposed to leave from every half an hour. I waited almost an hour for the damn thing. When I got to the bus I was a little worried, but as the ride was supposed to take two hours or so, and I had at least two and a half left, I felt I could still make it. I got on the bus and fell asleep. I later heard from fellow passengers that there had been roadworks and a broken down truck on the way to slow us down, and once I woke up at the airport I only had 5 minutes to go. So I ran to my gate, only to hear that check-in had closed a couple of minutes earlier. FML.
Okay, I just need to change my ticket, right? No can do. In fact, the only flight to Tokyo before Monday was on the same day, and would fly via Seoul. I'll take that, how much? 600 fucking euros. You can get a flight from Finland to Thailand and back with that!
Oh what the hell! It's only money, right? So after maxing my credit card, still coming up short and having to change some dollars I was lucky to have on me to buy the ticket I had to run to the gate just to be the last person to check-in before the gate closed.

People, don't travel like I do. Do your research in time. Know what you're doing. Know where you're going. Seriously, it'll save you money and while excitement is good, that gripping sensation in your gut will get old pretty fast...
 
NOT The longest cable-stayed bridge in the world.

THE Longest cable-stayed bridge in the world.
Brought on site from a dismanteled warship, this unit
will shrug off a direct hit from a 1000 kilo shell.

This bad boy will pour 500 kilos of hate and disregard on your enemies
at a rate of 3 shots every minute, to a distance of 35 km.
If your neighbour has one of these, you'd better return that lawnmower in time...

Above mentioned hate and disregard in the form of high explosive shells.

Where the magic happens.


On a less violent side of things, here's a ferris wheel and some yachts.
Back to business. A WWII sub turned museum.
Not a place for the claustrophobic.
Fuck breakfast at bed. I want my cup of joe on top of a friggin' mountain.


Oh, sorry for the long post. Here's a potato. (A pot-AY-to, mind you.)

Friday 20 July 2012

Irkutsk & Lake Baikal

Current location: Tokyo, Japan


Seems like it's about time to start bringing this blog up to speed. So here goes.

 
I spent a week in Irkutsk, walking around and admiring the old buildings, which for some reason brought to mind Vientiane and Phnom Phen. For a while this seemed odd to me, but then I learned that when the city burned down they brought architects from Europe to rebuild it, and as it happens, when the French were laying down the law in South East Asia, they liked to build the cities in the way of the Old Country.
I think they even call Irkutsk the Paris of the East, but having never been to Paris, I can't say if there is any resemblance. (Though my host Phillip ventured that the people who coined the name had probably never been to Paris either.)
Not that the town is all European. Large parts were spared by the fire, and these parts are still mostly original wooden houses, which seem to grow out of the ground.

After a week in Irkutsk I made a trip to Listvyanka, and went scuba diving in Lake Baikal.
The lake being pretty damn deep, and my license only allowing me to dive to 18 meters, I mostly just hovered by this seemingly never ending slope.

I also made a two-day trip to the island of Olkhon, where I rode a mountain bike in the woods, checked out one of the holiest buddhist stupas in the world, and drank from a revered spring.


A graveyard in Irkutsk.

Apparently in Russia the graveyards are not maintained,
and they just let nature take over. Which I think is nice.


These old-ass wooden houses just grow from the pavement.



The Shaman rock in Huzir, Olkhon.


Lakeside in Listvyanka.
A loooong sandy beach on Olkhon.

The Tabljetka, a trusted Siberian beast of burden.

Thursday 12 July 2012

The Trans-Siberian Railway

Current location: Tokyo, Japan

The longest railway in the world connects Moscow, and with it, all of Europe, to the Russian Far East and East Asia. While commonly called the "Trans-Siberian", it's actually a network of railroads starting from Moscow and twisting and turning its way east, terminating at Vladivostok, Pyongyang and Beijing. The trip from Moscow to Vladivostok takes about 6 days, should you want to make it in one go. And if you really like trains, and don't get bored easily, you can actually ride a train from Europe all the way down to Singapore. Granted, you need to change trains a few times, but it's still possible.

Like most people, I divided my Trans-Sib trip into two parts. First, Moscow to Irkutsk, where I spent just under two weeks in and around Irkutsk and Lake Baikal, then Irkutsk to Vladivostok.
Both legs took about 4 days, which I think was ideal, not enough to get you really bored, but long enough to make you happy to finally get off.
The train itself provides little entertainment (except maybe some of the not-so-well-maintained toilets), so between the many stops and being yelled at by the provodnitsa, reading and sleeping became my main activities and during those 8 days I finished 4 books and slept 15 hours a day.

People restocking on water, beer, instant noodles and cigarettes
during a stop at, uh, somewhere...

Sunset at Omsk. (At least I think it was Omsk...)

3rd class is the only way to travel on the train.

Day setup.

The samovar provides hot water for your tea and instant noodles.

Friday 6 July 2012

The art of Getting Lost

Current location: Vladivostok, Russia

I'm a lousy tourist. I rarely have a schedule, sometimes I know nothing about a location upon arrival. I just go somewhere, look around, and maybe ask somebody what I should see and do.
And I somehow always end up in places where nobody goes. I mean not anybody. And with good reason.
I drag my feet to some weird back alley with my camera, taking pictures of piles of garbage or old tyres or what ever, and the locals are watching me like, "what the fuck is that wacko doing here?".
Like yesterday in Vladivostok, while trying to find an interesting angle to this bridge they are putting up in the centre, I ended up in the middle of the construction site. I took off and found myself on this back street with nobody there.
You take your pictures with Lenin, I'll just take photos of this dump I found.
 I was hot, tired, soaked in sweat and managed to kick my toe on the damned curb. Then, literally 25 seconds later, while I was damning myself for getting lost again, I turn a corner and find this little yard with all these old cannons and a tiny tank, a tiny submarine and one not so tiny torpedo boat.
Artillery
I know they used to put the short guys in the tank-crews, but come on!
This thing must have been operated by leprechauns, guarding their gold stashes.
 Sure it's probably on some guidebook or map, but I seldom use maps, and on this trip I absolutely refuse to carry a guidebook. And even if I do have a map, I only use it when I need to get somewhere, that is, when I know where I'm going, but as I normally have no idea where I'm going there's little point in using a map.
Most of the time my wandering yields little more than sore feet, sweaty ass and sunburn, but every now and then I get lucky and end up in a cool place I would otherwise have not gone to.