Train rides

The traditional Trans-Siberian train route runs right across Russia, from Vladistock on the east coast to Moscow in the west. There are two other routes that are also sometimes referred to as the Trans-Siberian, these are the Trans-Manchurian, which runs from Beijing through Manchuria in China then up into Russia, where it joins the Trans-Siberian line, and the Trans-Mongolian, which runs from Beijing through Mongolia then up into Russia, where it too joins the Trans-Siberian line. The longest of the three routes is the Trans-Siberian, which runs a third of the way around the world. Our trip was on the Trans-Mongolian, which is a little shorter and involves six days of train travel, which we broke up with stops in Mongolia and Siberia.

Although the Trans-Mongolian trip was to be our big train journey, by the time we got to it, we had already clocked up dozens of hours, including three nights, on trains in China.

Our Trans-Mongolian trip began on Wednesday June 14, when we arrived at the relevant Beijing train station and started sussing out the other foreigners around – wondering who might be in our tour group. The Trans-Mongolian trip was the only part of our journey that we pre-booked as a tour. The reason we booked the tour was it’s damn hard to get a Russian visa if you don’t. To get a visa you have to have all your accommodation and entry and exit transport booked, letters from your Australian and Russian agents, vouchers and all sorts of stuff written in Russian. A letter from our Aussie agent said the Russians invented red tape and after seeing all this stuff, I'm inclined believe them. After traveling independently for so long, we were looking forward not only to not having to worry about finding a place to stay each night and the constant organisation of things like transport, but we were also looking forward to meeting the other people in our group.

Accommodation on the train was in four-bed compartments and despite the fact the train was teeming with Western tourists, we ended up in a compartment with two Mongolian ladies, so we settled in, deciding we would meet the rest of our tour group either at some time on the train trip, or upon arrival in Ulaan Bataar.

The first part of the journey was mountainous and the first point of interest was passing the Great Wall. Slowly the scenery changed into bare hills with mud brick villages, then into wide river valleys, dotted with willows, dairy cattle and the odd donkey. As the day wore on, one of the topics of conversation between the tourists was when we were going to enter the Gobi Desert. I was worried we might pass it by in the night, a concern someone else voiced. Another person suggested we would arrive in the evening, while someone else suggested we might catch the end of it if we got up really early in the morning.

I needn’t have worried about missing the Gobi. I can now say with confidence that not only have I seen the Gobi Desert, but I have also inhaled roughly half of it (I was blowing it out of my nose for days after) and carried still more of it in my clothes and hair halfway across the world. (The first picture is a view of the Gobi through the dining carriage window, the next two pics are of the Gobi through the train window.) We started to see serious sand in the early evening and it was not long after this that we discovered that the train was not sand proof – not fun. What was fun was the first part of the border crossing from China into Mongolia. With all the necessary paperwork done on the train, we went into the station to wait for the train to change wheels (there are different size tracks in the two countries) and spent most of the last of our yuan on Baileys. The latter part of the border crossing was not so fun. It was late at night by the time we got back on the train and we had to wait around for the border control officials to come through to stamp passports, then we had to wait for god knows what else. All I know was I was REALLY tired but I couldn’t sleep cause I also REALLY needed to go to the toilet (all that baileys…) but I couldn’t because they lock the toilet doors when the train is at a station. It was a bad situation.

The fourth photo is our first view of Mongolia - rolling green hills dotted with colourful herds of horses, sheep and goats. It was sometime after lunch the next day that we arrived in Ulaan Bataar, the capital of Mongolia. I hadn’t heard many good things about the city, but I was pleasantly surprised. UB is a city that has exploded in size in recent years, as more and more people move to the city from the countryside in search of an easier life. Still, today, something like 20 per cent of Mongolia’s population are nomads. They live in round tents called gers, set up in the countryside in areas their families had farmed for centuries. There is no land ownership in the way we know it, just an understanding that certain families graze their herds in certain areas. The families usually camp at different places in winter and summer, though they might have to make extra moves during summer if the feed is scarce. These days they mostly use large antiquated Russian trucks to move camp and we saw plenty of these on the road.

The nomads endure extreme conditions. In winter it can get as cold as -40 degrees celsius and in summer +40. Apparently the old people say that if it is a hard winter, say getting as low as -35 degrees, the summer will be equally as extreme - reaching 35 degrees.

When we arrived at UB, we were met by a lady holding up a card with our names on it, it was then that we discovered that we were not, as we had imagined, on a tour with ten or so other people. It was just the two of us, and this lady, Tunga, was to be our personal guide over the next couple of days.

Our accommodation on the trip (when not on the train) was home stays and the lady whose home we stayed at in UB was wonderful. She was a Russian teacher with broken English who earned some extra money from having guests stay in her apartment. She offered to cook us dinner on one of the nights and it was there that I tried my first borsch – I am a convert!

The next day we got up bright and early to travel into the countryside. It took several hours to drive to the tourist ger camp and the scenery was amazing the whole way. I never imagined grassy, treeless expanses of wide plains and rolling hills could be so beautiful. But there were constant subtle changes in the colour of the landscape and all the time little ger settlements and colourful herds of horses, cattle, goats and the odd yak and camel. The sheep and goats didn’t have the same uniformity of colour they have at home, but were bright mixtures of whites, blacks, grays and all shades of brown and chestnut. The fifth photo is of one variety of Mongolian landscape.

Our first stop was at a cairn at the side of the road (sixth photo). Mongolia is a predominantly Buddhist country, but there is a strong influence from Shamanism. Shamanism is an ancient belief in, and worship of, spirits. This particular cairn was a place where travellers would stop to make an offering to the spirits to ask for a safe journey. Most of the offerings were stones of different sizes and blue ribbons, but there were also bottles of milk, vodka bottles (usually empty), a pair of crutches and a couple of severed horses legs. That afternoon, we visited a sacred spot, where local people believe there is a direct link to some sort of heavenly source. There, they go to make offerings and wishes. The most interesting of the offers at this spot was a selection of horse sculls. Tunga told us that these were the skulls of prized race horses. Next we visited the ruins of the Uvgun monastery (seventh photo). The monastery has been destroyed several times, by the Chinese, then, most recently, in the 1930s during the Communist takeover, when thousands of monks were slaughtered. The Mongolians have a colourful past when it comes to takeovers and being taken over. In the 13th century, a single Mongolian state was formed for the first time when a number of nomadic groups came together under Chingis Khan. In the following years, Khan and his successors went on to form an empire that covered much of Asia and stretched into Europe (see map). But in recent centuries, Mongolia has no longer had the upper hand. They were controlled by China from the 17th to early 20th centuries, then, although they were never a part of the Soviet Union, they were a communist state up until the early 1990s. It was interesting to see that Tunga held no animosity against the Russians, but heaps against the Chinese. Her explanation was that, while the Chinese were in control, they bled Mongolia’s resources and gave them nothing in return, where as, although things weren’t too good under communism, at least there were some benefits, like the development of health and education systems.

One of the most rewarding parts of our visit to Mongolia was visiting a family in their ger. The genuine hospitality was such a refreshing change from China, where everything came with a price. Tunga took us to visit an elderly couple she knows (ninth and 10th photos), but she told us that, had they not been home, we could have dropped in to visit any family. The harsh climate of the steppes has created a culture of hospitality that has not been ruined by the influx of tourists over the past decade. We sat in the elderly couple’s ger and drank tea (green tea brewed with milk, salt and butter – not as bad as it sounds!!) and ate dried cheese, and sweet bread dipped in a sort of custardy thing (very good!!)

Other interesting points on Mongolia:
- Tunga told us that dogs are considered to be only one level below humans when it comes to reincarnation. Because of this, it is almost as bad karma to kill a dog as it is to kill a person, and when dogs die, they cut off their tails because they believe they won’t need them in their next life.
- Swooping kites! A kite (quite large bird of prey) swooped me while we were having a picnic lunch outside one day. It wanted my lunch – and got it!
















On Monday evening, June 19, it was time to get back on the train again for the long journey north into Russia. In truth, the journey itself was not all that long, but the wait at the border was. What the wait was for we don’t know, as the whole passport process was almost too easy, but two carriages of our train were stranded in what felt like the middle of nowhere for something like nine hours.

We arrived at the Siberian city, Irkutsk, early on Wednesday morning and were transferred to Listvyanka, a pretty holiday town on the shores of Lake Baikal. Baikal is the deepest and oldest fresh water lake in the world, containing more that 20 per cent of the world’s fresh water. It is 636km long, up to 80km wide and has an average depth of more that 750m. Photos 18 to 24 are of the lake, Listvyanka and the surrounding forest.

The man at our homestay in Listvyanka was a scientist who worked on the lake. He had great English and so was good to talk to.

We spent the day wandering around the town, admiring the lake views, little wooden houses and Siberian forest and trying to evade some drunk Uzbekistani tourists who took a liking to us. The lake is amazing – the water is incredibly clear and icy cold at just a few degrees above freezing. The whole thing freezes over in winter and vehicles drive over it. The little market stores were a highlight – especially the smoked omul – a fish endemic to Baikal – which we bought and ate on the shore of the lake. Another highlight was getting swamped by a class of school kids. It was pretty funny 'cause they were all trying out the lines they had leaned at school: “Hello, my name is xxx and I am xx years old. I have one brother, yyy, who is yy years old.” Just as good as the town was the forest surrounding it – lush green grass with wildflowers, silver birch, cedar and larch trees.

Our second day in Listvyanka involved a guided tour of the town, where we went everywhere we had been ourselves the day before, but listening to the guide talk about life in Russia was great.

The following day we travelled back to Irkutsk, with a stop at the open air Wooden Architectural Museum on the way. At the museum we saw different displays on how Russians past and present live. We also heard stories about the famous Russian Cossack explorers and Siberia’s infamous history as a place of political exile.

In Irkutsk we had a walking tour and lunch at a tea house, but most of my memories involve stressing about getting our passport registered (which you must do within three days of entering the country) and walking the town in search of an international phone, which we finally found and managed to speak on for all of 30 seconds before it cut out.

We had the next morning free, so went to the local market to buy some supplies for the longest leg of out train journey – the part where we joined the traditional Trans-Siberian route for three days and nights. The nearly 80 hours that we spent on the train went surprisingly quickly. Watching the Russian countryside, towns and occasional city go by was entertaining, especially seeing people out in the gardens of their Dachas, wearing nothing but their underwear or swimmer, so best to soak up the sunshine. A Dacha is a Russian summer house, usually a small wooden house on a block of land in the countryside where they can go to escape the city, enjoy the sunshine, and grow crops of fruit and vegetables. The Dacha seemed to be an important aspect of Russian life – highly appreciated by those that have one and a real dream for those that don’t.

Another highlight of the train journey was stopping at the stations. Some of the stops were for around 20 minutes, so there was time to get off the train and wander along the platform, checking out the goods locals had for sale and usually stocking up on some food, such as tomatoes, cucumbers and dill or some barbecued chicken, beer or ice cream.

We arrived in Moscow during the afternoon on Tuesday June 27 and were taken to the homestay where we were to stay. The lady we stayed with in Moscow was one of the most interesting people I met on the trip. A widow in her late middle age, she taught English, was a scholar, a tour guide and had plenty to say about everything. Some interesting things I picked up from her were – if it’s not easy for Australians to get a tourist visa for Russia, it’s damn right impossible for Russians to get tourist visas for Australia (or Britain, or most other Western countries for that matter). Our lady was quite excited during the time we spent with her because she had recently been granted a multiple entry tourist visa for the UK, which she gained after a lengthy process and included a large sum of money and the sponsorship of a Scottish professor who she met somewhere through mutual interests. Our guide suggested that one of the reasons it is so hard to get a visa, is Russia has a large population of widowed middle age women, and the Western countries might be concerned that a woman on holiday might be on the lookout for a prospective husband. Our guide told us that the reason for the population imbalance is that bad food, vodka and beer, combined with depression associated with the rise and fall of the communist state, has led to the life expectancy for a Russian man being less that 60 years (in 1999). In the same year, the life expectancy for Russian women was more than 72-years. Another topic that our guide was very knowledgeable on was the Russian Orthodox Church, which was banned during communist times and is now back bigger than ever. It was lovely to see her pride in the grand and beautiful Cathedral of Christ our saviour. The original cathedral was demolished during the revolution, but in 1990 the Russian Orthodox Church was given permission to rebuild the cathedral, which was completed in 2000.

Highlights of Moscow were the atmospheric Red Square, surrounded by the colourful St Basils Cathedral (pictured), the walls of the Kremlin, Lenin’s Mausoleum, the exclusive GUM department store and the lovely Museum of History; the Kremlin itself, with its many lovely churches and palaces; and just generally walking the streets of the city and watching the uniformly well-dressed and immaculately groomed Moscovians enjoying the outdoor beer garden-type bars around the centre of the city.

Our transport from Moscow to St Petersburg was by overnight train. We were dropped off at the relevant Moscow train station and proceeded to wander around, trying to find out what platform we were to depart from. We found the large screen that looked like it had all the arrivals and departures listed on it, but our train was nowhere to be found. After trying unsuccessfully to get some information from an information counter, we resorted to asking random people – Russians and non Russians alike and eventually found – much to our relief – that the departures screen was broken, which was why our train wasn’t showing. Finally, safely on board, we settled in for the last of the ten nights we spent on trains all up.

We arrived at St Petersburg at 8am and were picked up by Serge, our driver for the next few days. We were lucky in St Petersburg as we had both Serge and another guide, a lady, to take us around. Both had a wealth of knowledge and Serge was a great example of the state of the Russian economy – highly educated, knowledgeable and with great English, he could make a better living working as a driver for tourists that he could in his own fields of expertise. According to Serge, in Russia the only places there is money to be made is in the oil and tourism industries.

The drive from the train station to our homestay in St Petersberg was a mini tour in itself, with Serge taking us up St Petersburg's main street, Nevsky Prospect, pointing out sites and talking non-stop the whole way. Our homestay was on Vasilevsky Island - a short drive or bus ride - but couple of hour walk, as we found out one night - from the city centre. St Petersburg consists of many islands and canals that were dug to drain the marshy land. The streets and canals are lined with colourful buildings, beautiful palaces and even more beautiful cathedrals. Our homestay was a bit of a shock after the immaculate apartment we stayed in in Moscow. It was on the ninth floor of a building that's elevator was broken - quite a challenge with all our luggage - and they had no hot water. Now no hot water wasn't a problem in South East Asia (though if you ask Niels he'll probably tell you that I may have complained a bit - or a lot - at the time). But in St Petersburg - even in the height of summer - it was way too cold as far as I was concerned for cold showers. Despite the lack of comforts, experiencing this side of life in Russia was probably more rewarding than more comfortable dwellings. The people we stayed with this time were a young couple with a baby, who rented out a room in their tiny apartment to help pay the bills.

On our first day in St Petersberg, our two guides took us on a partly driven and partly walking tour of the city, where we soaked up the amazing architecture, culture and history - cental St Petersburg is simply the most beautiful place, which makes it hard to imagine its dark past. In World War II, St Petersburg, which was known then as Leningrad, was besieged by the Germans and some 1,000,000 people of the city’s population of 3,000,000 died – many of them from starvation.

On our second day, we went by car to visit some sites outside of St Petersburg. The first was Catherine Palace, an elaborate palace given by Peter the Great to his wife, Catherine. The palace was used, and devastated by, Nazi troops in World War II and millions have been spent on it (funded in part by Germany) in recent years to return it to its former glory. The second main place we visited was Peterhov – a palace which features a garden filled with amazing fountains – all of which are powered by gravity alone.

That evening, we decided to treat ourselves to a White Nights cruise along the canals and the Neva river. The month of June in St Petersberg is known as the White Nights, because it never gets completely dark. This cruise we went on started at 1am and made the most of the beautiful and seeming endless twilight that blends into dawn. After the cruise, we waited for the bridges to come back down (they open and close at certain times during the night to let the big ships through) so we could walk across the Neva to our island and through the twilight to our guest house.

We spent out last full day In Russia wondering the streets some more and stocking up on some vodka. The next day we were due to fly out mid-afternoon, we really wanted to see the Hermitage, which had been closed the day before, so we made a quick dash around it in the morning, then off to the airport and away to Prague!

Lament of a Mongolian Herder

As soon as I found out my trip to the UK was going to take me through Mongolia, I decided I wanted to be a Mongolian Horde and go galloping across the steppes. (I know a horde is a large group of people, humor me).

So, while staying out on the steppes, I organised to go on a two hour horse ride. When the appointed time arrived, I wandered down to the front of my ger (Mongolian nomad's tent) camp to await in great anticipation for the arrival of the horses and the local warrior who would be my guide.

But, after all the lead-up, my life as a horde got off to a very undignified start as the warrior and I went trotting off with me firmly attached to a lead reign. We trotted for about 10 minutes before coming across a couple of young men herding sheep and goats. The warrior joined in - with me attached - and it seemed my Mongolian Horde adventure was going to be more a Mongolian Herder experience.

Things got better a short time later, when the warrior released me from the lead reign and I got to join in the herding on my own. Undoubtedly I was getting in the way as they had no English (apart from "tank you" and "okayyyyyy") and I could not for the life of me work out what they were trying to do with the herd. It was so incomprehensible that had I not known that there was no way three men were going to waste their time entertaining me for $3 an hour, I would have thought the whole thing was for my benefit.

Anyway, after half an hour or so they had done whatever they were doing and my warrior and I separated from the other men, rode up a hill, then got off the horses, sat down and admired the view. At this point it became apparent that the warrior had no idea what to do with me (go galloping across the steppes maybe??) soooooooo we went and chased the goats again. At least this time we were only chasing them in one direction so I felt like I was contributing.

After we'd harassed the animals for a while, for lack of anything better to do (invade China??) we rode to a nearby ger so the warrior could have a chat to a lady milking her goats. Then, as we still didn't have anything else to do (invade Europe maybe??), we went to the warrior's ger to have tea and cheese and look at photos of him at different stages of his life.

By this time the two hours was up so we galloped the 300m across the steppes back to my ger camp, pulling up in front of some very impressed elderly Finnish tourists.

Finnish lady: "How long have you been riding for?"
Me: "Two hours."
Her: "Oh, so you must have gone a long way."
Me: "No, just over there. We chased goats, then had tea."
Her: "Well it looked very exciting."

PS. I actually enjoyed every second of my Mongolian Herder experience, and everything about Mongolia, the country is so beautiful and the people are truly wonderful and hospitable. The tour company we were booked through run five day horse riding trips across the steppes to the mountains and I'm really keen to go back and do something like that in a few years, so if anyone else is keen let me know!!