From: Rob en Dafne de Jong
rideon96@yahoo.com
Date: 26 July 2001
Ride-on... Russia and Siberia
Dobre Djen (Russian),
"There are really only two big things in this world," Rob said while the aged
Russian cruise ship
'Antonya Nezhdanova' slowly moved away from the Japanese Port of Fushiki to
start her voyage
towards Vladivostok in Russia. "First there are the oceans." I look up. "And
then there is
Russia!"
Contrast
On board we unexpectedly already plunge into the world that is called Russia.
Big white-skinned
people with blond hair and light eyes. Relations are very open and direct, very
much unlike the
way things go in Japan.
The ship is being loaded with used cars. All decks are full and even on top of
what was once the
swimming pool cars are hanging on, with the wheels reaching far over the edge
but that's no
problem: Put a pile of tires underneath and strapped down they will also reach
Russia. The loading
is supervised by Japanese who, according the rules is dressed in quality
overalls, sturdy gloves
and a safety helmet. Sweat is rolling down his forehead while he signs the crane
driver to lift up
the next car. The Russians dealing with the loading grin. They wear sandals and
shorts. T-shirts
taken off in the hot afternoon. The gangways are full of mopeds, scooters and
bicycles, piled up
tires everywhere. In the toilets washing machines, ovens and refrigerators.
Our sidecar and the two motorcycles of Lorenz and Patrick, the Austrians who are
also going to
Vladivostok, are put on a nice spot on the deck. We plan to travel together the
coming three
weeks.
The crossing
The days of glory have long gone for this ship, but the colors and smells, the
monotonous sound of
the old engines have a good atmosphere and we enjoy the few days at sea to the
fullest.
The food on board of the ship is good, at least for our taste, as we are treated
to "Borsjt",
typical Russian soup with a blob of mayonnaise in it. The Russian bread is
really yummy, heavy and
whole wheat, like my mother used to bake it. "Finally people who know how to
make bread" we say to
each other.
Victor, the engineer on board of the Nezhdanova, invites us to see the engine
room. Two 8-cylinder
2-stroke diesels and two enormous generators are working hard. Rob is thrilled
as he used to work
inside engine-rooms of sea going vessels.
At night we meet the rest of the passengers, most of them car-dealers in the
bar, dressed up to
dance and sing to the 2 musicians who entertain the passengers during the
crossing. There's also a
"shiep-doctor", a real big blond Russian woman who, after a couple of vodkas,
declares here love
to us and insists of dancing with Rob and Lorenz. Fortunately not at the same
time. The next day
we find out there are several ship-doctors on board.
Vladivostok
Vladivostok's motorcycle-club the "Iron Tigers" had sent two of their members to
welcome us to the
port. They provide us with a place to sleep in their clubhouse and help us going
around
Vladivostok while our motorcycles are kept in customs. What a great welcome.
Vladivostok itself is
a pleasant city, built on several hills around a natural harbor.
It takes us 2 days to get our Yammie out of customs. One to cover the problems
of a national
holiday "President day" the other to cover the formalities. Although the Iron
Tigers stay with us
all the time to be there if we need help, we found out that it is better to deal
with Customs
yourself. Why? A translator can explain a problem and then it will be your
problem. No translator
means no problems.
The World on a Children's Drawing
In Russia all schools are closed for the holidays and we ask around for another
place where we can
do our project. One of the Iron Tigers in Vladivostok knows an artist, who works
with children
during the summer and we fill the hallway outside the little room with drawings
from all around
the world. The kids are thrilled to find out where they come from and when we go
around with the
beautiful color pencils that were donated in Japan by Holbein the feast is
complete and everyone
is working. "Can we really make friends all around the world," we are asked and
we explain that
every drawing we exchange has an adress on it.
Just outside Irkutsk we get another chance when we meet Vasili, who speaks
English. "Russian
children mostly go to summercamps," we had already heard and together we pay one
a visit.
On the road again
The roads are pretty good in Russia and traffic is almost non-existing as soon
you leave the city.
Rolling hills covered with trees and meadows full of wild flowers: Lilies and
Irises and much
more. Now and then small villages where the wooden houses, which mostly date
back to before the
revolution have very nicely decorated windowpanes and doors. Some of these
houses are painted in
bright colors, blue and white or yellow.
There's no running water as everywhere we see wells or pumps, from which
something like big steel
milk canisters on 2-wheeled trolleys are filled and pulled back home. As we also
fill up our
jerrycan at these pumps, a few times we still see the ice from last winter. Not
everywhere the
scene is so romantic as in the bigger villages and in the towns big ugly gray
apartment buildings
take over the scenery.
It is a busy time of the year in July for the Russians in the villages, who are
almost all working
on their little plots of land to grow potatoes and veggies. Hay is being put on
big stacks to be
collected later and it seems that winter, which lasts about 5 months with
temperatures dropping as
low as -70 Celsius (-90F) is controlling life in Siberia even in mid-summer.
It is the land of sidecars too but not for fun though. Our greetings towards
other sidecar riders
are only seldom returned, as a sidecar is just a mode of transport while the
mostly poor owner is
dreaming of a car.
End of the road
Although the Trans Siberia Railway is complete the road is not. In winter the
missing link is
passable because of the frozen rivers and rock-hard mud. This year there is a
lot of water so the
rivers are high and the mud is deep. Like everybody else here (dealers of used
Japanese cars), we
also had to decide to cover the stretch of almost 1000 km (app. 600 miles) by
train.
So in Shimanovsk we set off to find the train station (woksal), but before we
could, again we were
stopped by police for "dokument kontrol". The officers turned out to be quite
nice this time, as
they made us follow them at first to an office (a lot of Russian was spoken) and
then to the place
where every car driver was waiting for his place on the train.
Horror stories of people who had already been waiting for a week tempered our
enthusiasm to do
this ride. After some negotiating however we were able to secure a place on a
"postal train" which
was a little bit more expensive but at least we were going to leave the same
night.
Our Yammie and the BMW of Lorenz were easily driven into the cargo area, but
then all the space
was taken and for Patrick the situation looked grim. "We shovel it under the
truck," the Russians
suggested after we had profoundly turned down the option to put her on top of
our sidecar. Finally
we managed to squeeze her into a small corridor behind the entry of the small
personnel
compartment, situated at the end of the carriage.
All the car owners on the train have to eat sleep and live inside their cars
during the journey
that takes up to two/three days. We are so lucky to have been given the use of
the only available
cabin, in which we even can go horizontal.
Ulan Ude and Baikal
We traveled together until Ulan Ude, the capital of Siberia, where we arrive in
the middle of the
335-years jubilee celebrations and have the pleasure to see Kosacs dancing with
bayonets and
native Buryat people sing their anthem coming straight from their hearts.
Time to say goodbye to Lorenz and Patrick, who are heading for Mongolia. We go
to the huge Lake
Baikal, where we find a lovely camping spot between shady trees. We stay a
couple of days, rest
and walk along the beach, visit a nearby village and drown ourselves in
beautiful sunsets. The
water of the lake is crystal clear and very drinkable, so is said. It's also
extremely cold as
this is known to be the world's deepest lake (1637 meters or over a mile). Not
too cold though not
to let us (however shortly) plunge into the water.
Banya
Siberia, Russia, it means new impressions every day. Most of the Russians live
simple lives and
more people tell us that things are getting better as they were during Communist
times. On the
markets trade in foreign products is very much alive. The Russians don't like
'the rubbish' that
reminds them of old times except for one thing: the traditional Russian sauna
called 'banya'.
Although there are not many houses left without a bathroom, and many Russians
have built private
banyas, about every bigger village has a public banya.
It was near Blagoveshensk that we first were introduced to this Russian
tradition. The sauna is
wet and really hot and one beats himself with a bundle of leafy twigs from a
local tree. Off
course there's a social side to this bathing as well and in the banya in Abakan
(Kakasian Republic
south of Krasnojarsk) it's my turn to beat another lady's back.
In the republic Bashkortostan north of Ufa, so called 'black banyas' are common.
These banyas,
which are heated by a wood fire, do not have a chimney. Only after the fire has
burned out, the
smoke has come out of the banya and the floor and benches have been cleaned you
can go in for a
sweat and a wash. "Do not touch the walls, for they are like those of a
chimney," we were warned
and that's exactly why this is called a black banya.
Ural
We already mentioned seeing sidecars everywhere in Russia. Irbit not far from
Yekaterineburg is
home of the Ural factory and off course has some kind of magnetic effect on us.
As if they knew we
were coming we are warmly welcomed and offered a tour through the factory and
the museum. First we
have to eat however and drink tea, for which water is kept warm in a beautiful
samovar.
We speak some English with Marina, who is dressed in a long green gown and ready
to participate in
a fashion show. Natasha speaks German and takes us around the factory. The
museum is filled with
motorcycles, sidecars and interesting engines, like a star-4 engine and a so
called 'flying
brick'. It's really a paradise for Rob, who does not know where to look first.
In the second room
foreign motorcycles, among which a Dutch built EML sidecar, a Guzzi Hidro
Convert, a Honda
Goldwing from 1973 and an original CB 750 from 1971.
The manager of the museum who visibly loves motorcycles is immediately turned on
by Rob's
enthusiasm and, as motorcyclists understand each other even if they do not speak
the same
language, to translate is not necessary any more. The handshake at the end turns
into an warm
embrace.
Mosquitoes
At the moment we are in Ufa in the Southern Ural, which is more like a group of
hills than
mountains. Driving through the Ural is a joy to do, as there are many nicely
asphalted small
winding roads with little traffic and great views. Also the fact that there are
few mosquitoes
here is very enjoyable.
In Siberia we very quickly found out that there is a huge variety in this kind
of species. And, as
we did not mind so much any more being bitten by a 'mozzy' as the threat of
getting malaria was
not there any more, we now have regained our hatred for these ever irritating
little bastards.
There are small ones, big ones, striped ones, spotted ones, some active during
daylight, others
come out at sunset.
Conclusion of our investigation: All of them bite and are literally a 'pain in
the arse' if you
need to go. Pants down and cover your bud as quickly as possible in repellent.
"Europe is getting close now," Rob already had said when crossing the Japanese
Sea on board the
Nezhdanova. Indeed, a few days ago just outside Yekaterineburg we passed a
statue marking the
borderline of the European territory. Holland is getting very close too, but we
try to forget that
the days are passing so quickly, to live in the present and enjoy the moment.
The coming months
are still full of unknown kilometers to explore. We will write about them.
A greeting and a smile,
Riding on... Rob and Dafne
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