A Sure Thing

There are two things that you can be sure of when traveling in Russia. One is that after a day of travel you will feel filthy. After spending one day on a bus, and two days on a train, I am ready to shed a layer of skin. The second sure thing is that you can be sure of nothing.

Each time we move towns there is the same question in my mind, Where will we sleep tonight?

This time, I had another question plaguing me. Who are these people? As soon as we stepped onto the train platform, our Russian bunk mate, Elena told us to wait. She rushed off, came back with a middle ages man and an older woman and told us "Go now!"

We yelled thank you behind us (although we weren't quite sure for what) and we hustled off to a waiting car. The man drove like a Russian taxi driver, but was he? We were clueless.

We stopped at a small wooden cottage with a garden on a dirt street that was lined haphazardly with similar wooden cottages. The old woman got out, opened the gate and motioned us inside. Then, we were ushed inside the house. "Rashit," she said and pointed to the back room.

She was apparently Rashit's wife and had fetched us from the train station. But how did she know we were there or who we were? It was a Russian mystery at the time.

Rashit is listed in the Lonely Planet Russia guidebook as someone to look up if you want to get tours around the north of Lake Baikal. Although he suffered a stroke seven years ago, leaving his right side paralyzed and his speech slowed, he still arranged tours and helps with homestays. The other person listed in the guide book was Frederick. You must telegram him two days before you arrive, the book said, but there was no address, no phone number, no email...and we dismissed that option immediately.

We spent two hours learning about Rashit. His wife made tea and served plates of biscuits, cookies, candies, cakes, breads filled with egg, toast and jam. There were constant urgings to eat more and more and after finishing 2 pots of tea and way too many snacks, we were critisized for not eating everything on the table.

Rashit had studied English in 1957 at school (he is 65 now). He read every day in English to maintain what he had learned since there was no one hear to speak English with. During this time he also taught himself to read, write and speak Arabic. Eventually in 1991 he visited America (Colorado Springs) on a conference and took time afterwards to visit LA, San Fransisco, Anchorage, Seattle, and New York City.

In 1994 he suffered a stroke which left him completely paralyzed and unable to speak for one year. When he did regain his speech he could only remember English. He taught himself to type and his son bought him a computer. Now he spends his time arranging travel tours. His business card reads: Helping for tourists on the Lake Baikal and Northern Baikal area.

The rest of the time, Rashit spends at his chess games. He is vying for Russian master at the moment with two out of nine games left to be played. When we plays a russian opponent, it is with moves sent back and forth via postcard, he told us. One game took three years once.

Tourism has dropped dramatically here since 1992 (when Russian suffered major political uncertainty). John and I are the first visitors to this area this year, and Rashit only expects one other in July. He had received our email, sent 2 days earlier, just that morning at 6am. He'd sent his wife to the train to find us. With so few foreigners here, we were easy to spot. - Mystery solved.

Rashit said he could arrange everything for us. The homestay he recommended turned out to be an apartment his son used to live in. When I asked how much, he replied with "You pay what you pay."

Russian apartments here are badly made (and that is being kind). This town is a sea of ugly cement buildings, all almost identical. Our home was on the third floor of a pinkish cement monster. Several more are being built across the road. There doesn't appear to be any structural support to anything here. Four cement walls are crained into place and glued together (no joke). They look like a house of cards and are probably as strong in an earthquake, as deadly in a fire since there are no fire escapes anywhere. For that matter we haven't seen one fire station, one fire truck, and where are the fire hydrants anyway?

This town was originally built for the sole purpose of housing the BAM railroad workers. Once the railroad was completed in 1984, there was really no reason for people to live here , although 25,000 people still do.

The beauty of this area obviously lies in the mountains, forests and lakes to the north, west and east of the lake. We are planning a 4 day trek into this wilderness with a guide, a reindeer to haul our gear and a boat to get us the four hours across the lake to the starting point.

Before that, however, we will investigate the local surroundings in hopes they are nicer than this purposeless town.