Comments on Russian Life

Siberian Accomodations

For all of you who expect your accomodations to be somewhat accomodating, consider this before planning a trip to Siberia. Our $38 room at the Angara Hotel left a bit to be desired. The lobby was large and nice with a casino and bar on one end, leather seats and a long reception desk. But...

The rooms...oy! There was only the slightest reminent of what used to be carpeting. It was all cigarette stained. The handle on the bathroom door was swinging by a thread. The furntiure was ready for the dump. The sink sloped toward you, the tub was installed backwards. The beds (should I really call them beds?) were platforms with springs on top. No mattress just a matress cover that was urine stained. The step into the bathroom was a foot and a half and there was a make-shift step stool to help hoist you in. But maybe the $38 was really for the breakfast buffet which was the best we've had in Russia so far.

The further east we go, it seems the more we pay for less. Advanced reservations are needed at some of the 'better' places. But 'better' is of course a relative term.

Russian Perfection

For a country that is anything but perfect, the Russians seem to require perfection. Our two experiences at Russian post offices were fraught with errors (all on our part).

Apparently when you fill out a form here, it must be exact. The date must preceed your signature and if perchance you didn't understand that when you read the Russian crylic - well, the form must be ripped up and you must begin again. You will never see anything crossed out on a Russian form (very bad form indeed).

After our first faux-paux, we didn't take any chances. At a Moscow post office we asked the lady at the stamp window to please print the envelope for us. We were posting a notebook left on the train back to its Russian owner. He'd spoken a bit of English and given us his address so we could write to him, then accidentally left his notebook behind.

The stamp lady was totally flustered when she printed his middle name before his first name. She whited it out and began again. "That's it," John joked. "Mixing up his first and middle name. It'll never get there now."

Checking into the Angara Hotel, we got another lesson in Russian precision. The first lady at the reception desk took our passports, selected a double room, then handed us two receipts and two key cards. She refused to take our money as this was not her job. She made certain we understood which receipt and which key card was for John and which was for Janet. This seemed very important.

The second lady at the desk then took these receipts (making sure to keep them separate) and our money and gave us breakfast vouchers in return. Our passports were then passed from lady one to lady three for registration processing. On the floor with our room, another receptionist took the key cards and handed us a key to the room. All very exact.

An American in Russia

As a tourist in Irkutsk we were immidiately made aware of the fact that we were the tourists and everyone else was the taxi driver.

At the train station, the entrance to the hotel, at the airport, the market, anywhere there was likely to be money made, someone was offering to take us in his car (now suddenly a taxi) to anywhere we wanted to go. "Taxi?"

There were many offers at the bus station today to take us to Listvyanka. "Nyet nyet," I told them. "We're taking the aftobus." Just out of curiosity though, I asked "Skolka? (how much?)" The staggering $20 fee was no match for the $2.55 we paid for the bus, but it would have been easier.

Yes, there were hassles at the bus ticket window. Of course - we're used to it by now. The line cutters were in peakform. With determination they walked right up to us and pushed in front. Some walked right to the front of the line and shoved their money in the window ignoring any transaction already in progress. Others simply formed multiple lines splaying off from the first, and, like a lane closure on the highway, merged in.

John made it to the front of his line first and I cut out of mine to join him (a premature move). "Nyet," the lady at the window said. "No bus." She said that the 2:30 bus to Listvyanka had already left. She pointed to a bus pulling away from the curb.

"But, it's only 2:05," John insisted. He pointed at his watch, even wrote 2:05 on a piece of torn paper and pushed it through the window. Russian mass transit may beold, clanky and dirty, but it is always on time. "No," She insisted, there was no 2:30 bus.

In a bold, all Russian move, I scooted back over to my first line and elbowed my way to the window. "Give me the money John" I pushed 100 Rubles through the window, ignoring the other people beside me trying to do the same. "Listvyanka, sleduyushchiy aftobus," I yelled.

All it took was a little perserverance and some push. Two tickets for the 2:30 bus were passed back to me.

The Language Barrier

Speaking Russian would definitely be a plus (ok, a double plus), but by speaking English we've met some interesting Russians. People who overhear us and speak even a small amount of English want to try it out on us (hotel and ticket vendors aside). "Where you from?" has been asked of us at least a half a dozen times now. But it seems the Russians aren't as interested in us as they are in talking about themselves.

The man on the train to Moscow was a geography teacher. He'd gone to the university in Vladimir, but now wondered why when his teaching salary was only 500 Rubles (~$20) a month. He wants to go to America to make more money and then return here to make a difference he told us. But, only the best Russians go to America, he said. "My English is not good yet." He complained about Russian government corruption for fifteen minutes and then added, But I love my country."

I met a woman in line at the train station. Her English was flawless. She'd majored in English and had been to Florida twice, once in January and once in July. "July was way to hot, yuck," she said. She wondered about the weather in China since we wanted to go there next. I took the opportunity to ask her a few questions.

"Why do we have to show our passports to buy a local train ticket," I asked.

"Because they are worried about terrorists," she replied and rolled her eyes "That's not so bad, we have to carry two passports; one for travel inside the country and one for travel outside the country. This is new in the last five years. Very stupid."

"Why doesn't anyone like to form proper queue?" I asked as someone pushed in front of us. She just shrugged her shoulders. "It's a problem here."

Today, we met Sasha. "Where are you from?" he began. But we didn't really say anything before he began telling us about his life. Quite a life too. He worked for the National Geographic society on three expeditions (he didn't mention doing what). He helped on the Baikal expedition several years ago and was asked to edit the article for accuracy. He'd done some work on Lake Michigan near Milwaukee, helped count seals on Lake Baikal and was now on his way home after recooperation from a fall on the ice where he broke his shoulder and knee. "Nine days out of the ice by dog sled," he boosted. Next he says he'll help with the Lake Baikal drilling project. Hadn't we heard of it? "There's seven kilometers of sediment under the lake," he told us. "Many millions of years worth of historical data."