Back to Vladimir

It’s precious rare that as a traveler you get the chance to visit a place a second time, especially if you’re as flighty as I am. I tend to be of the sentiment that once you’ve been there, you’ve at least seen the most of what you need to see, so why go back and waste precious time? Rather, you should be covering new territory!

Of course this mentality is fundamentally backward, because if you think about it, a city for example, is never the same; it’s always changing, just like the seasons. Which brings up an even better point: if you visit a place in the winter, will it look the same in the summer? If you’re in California where seasons don’t exist too much, the answer is probably “no,” but in Russia, there is absolutely a difference. As much as Moscow blossomed into a glorious green natural city this summer, I knew that outside of Moscow must be even better of a transformation, so my travel buddy Luke and I ventured off to Vladimir for a SECOND time, to see what we could see. And Luke had two revelations, just in time to send him off home to England.

And of course, as predicted, after 6 months, the transformation was even more acute, since the last time we had laid eyes on the place it had been buried in snow, and we had missed out on the slow thaw of spring. As happy as I was to see our friends again, I was even more thrilled when we ran off to tiny little Bogolyubovo, with the most perfect churn in Russia.

Diana’s friend explained to us that the church was created around an icon. As the workers tried to drag the large icon to a far off church outside of Vladimir, they soon tired of their work, and after 5 miles or so dropped the icon and rested. They looked around and decided, “To heck with that! We’ll just build a church here!” and so they did. And despite all of the swarms of mosquitoes and tourists, it was still just as peaceful as I remembered it. We swam in the river as it started to rain, but it didn’t dampen our spirits, or our fire, thankfully. “This is what makes Russia so perfect,” reveled Luke, as we sat on the river bank grilling sausages. “Russians are so in tune with nature, it’s their religion.” I laughed as Diana aptly built up the fire, our little elven friend who wouldn’t have surprised me if she had told me that she had been born in the nature.

This was even more evident when we made it to her parents’ summer home, and saw what a magical garden her mother and her had created. As Diana had promised, we experienced “shashlik” at her family’s summer home, or “dacha” and even had a chance to spend time in the ever popular banya. I’m not sure what could be more Russian than barbequing meat over a wood fire, or drinking homemade apple juice with fresh veggies, but Diana’s family, as expected was perfectly hospitable, and we talked and laughed until the fire burned down, and her father stopped playing folk songs on his guitar. “I think that’s what makes the Russian way of life so perfect,” pondered Luke discovering his second revelation. “Everything is done with good food, good company, and good music.” This is the secret to a good life, it seemed to us, both with bellies full, encouraging the words to a Beatles song that Diana’s father tried to play, mumbling along to the lyrics he obviously didn’t know. We were so exhausted, but it didn’t matter, because everything else was balanced and whole. We felt at peace with the natural world, breathing it in as we watched the sun already start to rise.

Summertime in Moscow

Perhaps nothing can be more refreshing than to experience a true summer after a true winter. I will admit that the wimpy Californian in me used to take summer for granted, as that time when it was "hot" versus "chilly." But here in Moscow, it's a completely different transformation. The bleak city turns into a lively place, and the color green just explodes from every direction, as the trees shoot out leaves in what seems like a matter of days.

The explosion of flowers and colors does wonder for not only the aesthetics of Moscow as a city, but also for the people who live here. Everyone throws off their black and brown fur coats and transforms their wardrobe into a wild and colorful array of clothing with different colored prints and patterns. People smile more, and seem to have awoken from some sort of hibernation. But above all is the combination of happy Moscovites and their love for the outdoors in the various parks around the city.

I was invited for my first "shashlik" (from the georgian word for shish kebab) in the park, and was shocked to see how apt my Russian friends were at setting up a picnic. They immediately went into picnic mode, throwing down blankets, setting up a barbecue, passing around beer. We sat around for hours, just talking and enjoying the sun, like everyone else around us. There was no running around, no checking of watches, as we laughed around the delicious food we ate as we listened to Russian pop music, as always. As we walked home, I admired all of the other families and friends who were doing exactly the same thing, and I felt rather glad for that moment, that I lived in Moscow.

Lake Baikal

I could think of no better way to end a Siberian adventure than to make it Lake Baikal. It is by far, one of the most spectacular things I have seen in my life.

But first I had to go to Irkutsk. Although it was an interesting city, after my amazing adventures in Krasnoyarsk and Ekaterinburg, I wasn't as thrilled by its messy and chaotic state. You could tell that the locals weren't big fans of tourists either, since they must get too many in the summer, with the way they talked to me in a huffy, irritated tone. I still enjoyed the river, crowded with ice fisherman who sat there with their poles all day long, waiting for something to happen in the frozen water.

But Baikal was everything I had hoped for, and more. when the train cleared a pass, my new friend Alex pointed out the mountains and my jaw literally dropped. They were even bigger than the ones in Krasnoyarsk, but in front of them was a HUGE lake, which was frozen solid, three meters thick. I was dazed as we trudged across, faintly reminded of a time when I had tried to cross the salt flats in the Badlands, California with my cousins. We were kids and thought that maybe if we walked far enough, we would get to the other side. But of course history repeats itself, and I'm pretty sure that after a few hours of walking I hadn't even made it halfway! But it was only the corner of the lake anyway. In parts, according a guy who worked at the hostel, the lake was 50 miles across. So much for that idea.

Baikal was refreshing in a way because of the youth hostel where we decided to spend the night. It was decidedly outdoorsy, especially with the people who came in and out, with their cross country skis or climbing gear. Jena, who was our know all on the lake and worked there, was obviously a big fan of the outdoors, and showed us hours upon hours of photos of downhill skiing adventures, kayaking trips, and biking expeditions in nearby Mongolia. "If only you had come in summer," he smiled at me wistfully, showing me all of the cool activities I was missing out on. All but one.

That evening we headed out to the Russian "banya," their version of a steamroom sauna, which felt great after a freezing day of walking outside. As soon as we got as hot as we could manage, we grabbed our towels and ran for the nearby hole in the lake, neatly cut out from the ice. I plunged myself into the freezing water, and as I went under I looked up and could see the moon and the stars shining above my head. I had to get out fast, but I walked a little slower to admire the best stars I had seen in a long time, as my friends made a mad dash for the warmth of the sauna. I thought of all the people I had met on my trip, and all of the beautiful things I had seen. Moscow seemed so different now, like a different world, but 26 hours later I was on a plane, heading back to my "reality," away from those stars. Away from a different side of Russia, so different from anything else I had ever seen.

Where are them bears!??

I know people have different opinions about Siberia. Even in Moscow the stereotypes were comical, if anything: big trees, too much snow, wild people, wild animals. Bears even! My student Staz told me that if I went to Krasnoyarsk, no matter what I did, I was NOT to go wandering in the woods, where there were....dangerous animals!

As soon as I left Ekaterinburg to head even further into Siberia, I wondered what awaited me in Krasnoyarsk. For the first evening hours of my 38 hour train ride from Ekaterinburg to Krasnoyarsk, my neighbors at first took on a more sinister, grizzly look in my less than plushy platzcart wagon. Nobody spoke much at first, but once you got them going, there was no stopping the conversation. Turned out my neighbor on the train was my neighbor in Moscow too, living only one metro stop away from me. We joked about California (Schwarzenegger came up inevitably) and soon our group of 4 had a running joke going about how the governator now lived in a tiny village in Siberia with the bears (medved, as I soon became familiar with this new word). Eventually a lady further down in the compartment came by and yelled at us to keep quiet, and we all drifted off to sleep.

When I did make it to Krasnoyarsk, I was surprised again. I had been expecting some tiny, rugged town, far from everything, as my friend from this town had explained to me before I left Moscow. But as I walked around the streets it became more obvious to me that this wasn't the sort of place a bear would enjoy strolling around in. It was, dare I say, modern. The buildings looked clean and bright, and the streets were so well groomed I wondered for a moment if I was back in some cute tiny roadstop town in the US. I'm sorry to say the only bear I found in Krasnoyarsk was in my coffee cup, just a fancy motif created by the barrista out of cream.

But that isn't the charm of Krasnoyarsk. Sure the main street is well kept with cute music blasting away, and there are plenty of fountains, not to mention a nice looking university. What was incredible was the mountains. Right across the river, you could see why people head to Krasnoyarsk for skiing, I might as well have been in the Swiss Alps.

Of course one of the top things on my list to do was to go to the Stolby National Park, which I had only heard rave reviews about. Managing to convince a couchsurfer and his friend to join me on the quest, we headed out, for the several hour climb to the top of a mountain, where rock columns loomed above it all, just begging to be climbed. As I picked my way through the boulders and ice patches, I managed to reach the top, just in time to catch my breath, as I looked around and saw for the first time, true Siberian wilderness. Ok, so maybe there was a bear or two out there somewhere, but that didn't matter. For as far as the eye could see, was pure forest, and it was beautiful.