Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia
Much has happened since the last post, and either time or internet has been lacking to write about it all.
After arriving in Irkutsk, I spent two days in the city exploring. I happened upon the Decembrist museum when I saw a French tourst looking desperately for something, and decided to follow him to see what was good around. The Decembrists were a group of Russian officers who attempted to overthrow the Tsar in favor of parlementary rule, but failed and were exiled to Irkutsk. They left a large cultural mark on the city. Irkutsk is also home to many wooden log buildings, which give the town an distinctive old feeling.
After seeing the sights of the town for a few days, I headed on to Lake Baikal, the largest, deepest, and oldest lake in the world. I had met three Spanish guys in the hostel the day before, and we happened to be heading to the lake together on the same bus. So we hung out, as the bus went on rougher and rougher roads, turning into dirt roads until we finally arrived on an island called Olhon, in the middle of the lake. Scattered Buryat towns exist on this island.
We arrived at the main town named Huzhir in the late afternoon, so I decided to camp near the town at a beach with the Spainards for the night. As we looked for firewood, an old guy told us not to disturb that part of the forest, but in spirit of Russian hospitality, gave us a few logs. A couple of Russian boys also took interest in us, and led us to another forest with more wood. Then they proceeded to be crazy Russians and tore down a small tree, dragging it back to their camp. We had gotten potatoes and cucumbers at the village store, so we wrapped it in foil to cook, as I showed the Spainards how to grill hot dogs the American way. In the night, we stared at the fire, and struggled to get water from the lake, since it laps unexpectedly at the shore, and you, like the ocean.
The second day, I struck camp and headed alone north, planning to hike to the northern cape of the island, which was 50 km away. I passed forest, plains, and a few towns, and reached a beach halfway there, and so camped directly on the beach that night, with a wonderful view.
I had planned to buy more food the next day, but realized the last village was behind me. Luckily there was a cafe for tourists, but they only sold pirozhki - fried pastries with cabbage and eggs. I was forced to buy and eat 8 that day, a reason I am no longer a fan of them. Soon, I also got tired of walking, and found some tourist buses sitting around. I went to talk to their drivers, and they told me they had no seats. However, they were curious about me, and we talked for a bit. Later, they decided I could sit on the floor of a bus, so when the tourists came back from their sightseeing, we zoomed off.
I learned that these buses contained Russian and hispanic hipsters going on a shamanic retreat to meditate and get in touch with nature. During their lunch and meditation break, I hung out with the Buryat drivers, but was unable to fully understand their Russian. However, the lead hipster came over to talk to us, and she ended up translating their stories for me. They told me about Lake Baikal, and how silvery creatures live in its depths, defending themselves against scientists who dive down there. They also claimes Gengis Khan's mother was from the island, and that the Khan himself was buried on Mount Izhemey, the highest point on the island, and a powerful curse was over the mountain. They are afraid to go there, and claim to see tons of UFOs that visit this place. However, it is worthy to note Mongolians claim Genghis Khan was buried elsewhere, and that his grave remains undiscovered.
After catching the spectacular view on the northern cape, I walked along the east shore, until I reached a "village" of 10 houses. Many people were camped near the treeline, so I spent the night there as well, watching the meteor shower happening above. I decided to go back to Irkutsk, via Huzhir, after that, but did not want to walk the day and a half back. So I decided to try to obtain a ride from another tourist bus. I asked each bus that stopped if they had a seat, but almost all were full. Regular routes also did not exist. After three hours of asking, I almost despaired, but finally found one bus that had a free seat, and appreciated every minute of the ride back. At Huzhir, I managed to catch the bus to Irkutsk in 10 minutes, and spent the night there.
The next morning, I went to the train station, and bought a ticket to Ulan Ude 30 minutes before the train left. Boarding the train, I felt pretty badass about my ticket which was hot off the press. Arriving in the afternoon, I only spent one night in Ulan Ude, since I was eager to leave Russia and see a new country.
However, the next morning, I found that the bus to Ulaanbaatar was fully booked. I learned there was another way, however. I took a bus to the Russian border town, Kyahkta, and poked around there for an hour. I reached the border, but it could only be crossed in a car. Fourtunately, many Mongolians operate taxis across the border, and they were currently going home. One man took me aborad, and I handed him the last of my rouble coins. The Mongolians are a lot different from the Russians - they went freely from car to car chatting as they waited at the border. When it was time to drive, they cut each other off and honked like hell.
Soon I was in Mongolia, and didn't know a single word of Mongolian. I thought I would be screwed, but fortunately, all the taxi drivers at the border speak Russian, and that saved my ass. I learned the bus station for Ulaanbaatar was in a town 20 km away. The taxi, a private car, would take me there for $1, or to UB for $13. I was amazed at how cheap it was. However, it would take me nowhere if 2 more people didn't show up. So I waited, and two Mongolian boys wanted to go to Ulaanbaatar. I was happy to go as well. Except that the seat belts didn't work, and we almost crashed head on as we tried to pass. Mongolians drive really crazily, and the roads have potholes everywhere, if it is even paved at all. I am really scared sometimes when I am in a Mongolian car.
Much has happened since the last post, and either time or internet has been lacking to write about it all.
After arriving in Irkutsk, I spent two days in the city exploring. I happened upon the Decembrist museum when I saw a French tourst looking desperately for something, and decided to follow him to see what was good around. The Decembrists were a group of Russian officers who attempted to overthrow the Tsar in favor of parlementary rule, but failed and were exiled to Irkutsk. They left a large cultural mark on the city. Irkutsk is also home to many wooden log buildings, which give the town an distinctive old feeling.
After seeing the sights of the town for a few days, I headed on to Lake Baikal, the largest, deepest, and oldest lake in the world. I had met three Spanish guys in the hostel the day before, and we happened to be heading to the lake together on the same bus. So we hung out, as the bus went on rougher and rougher roads, turning into dirt roads until we finally arrived on an island called Olhon, in the middle of the lake. Scattered Buryat towns exist on this island.
We arrived at the main town named Huzhir in the late afternoon, so I decided to camp near the town at a beach with the Spainards for the night. As we looked for firewood, an old guy told us not to disturb that part of the forest, but in spirit of Russian hospitality, gave us a few logs. A couple of Russian boys also took interest in us, and led us to another forest with more wood. Then they proceeded to be crazy Russians and tore down a small tree, dragging it back to their camp. We had gotten potatoes and cucumbers at the village store, so we wrapped it in foil to cook, as I showed the Spainards how to grill hot dogs the American way. In the night, we stared at the fire, and struggled to get water from the lake, since it laps unexpectedly at the shore, and you, like the ocean.
The second day, I struck camp and headed alone north, planning to hike to the northern cape of the island, which was 50 km away. I passed forest, plains, and a few towns, and reached a beach halfway there, and so camped directly on the beach that night, with a wonderful view.
I had planned to buy more food the next day, but realized the last village was behind me. Luckily there was a cafe for tourists, but they only sold pirozhki - fried pastries with cabbage and eggs. I was forced to buy and eat 8 that day, a reason I am no longer a fan of them. Soon, I also got tired of walking, and found some tourist buses sitting around. I went to talk to their drivers, and they told me they had no seats. However, they were curious about me, and we talked for a bit. Later, they decided I could sit on the floor of a bus, so when the tourists came back from their sightseeing, we zoomed off.
I learned that these buses contained Russian and hispanic hipsters going on a shamanic retreat to meditate and get in touch with nature. During their lunch and meditation break, I hung out with the Buryat drivers, but was unable to fully understand their Russian. However, the lead hipster came over to talk to us, and she ended up translating their stories for me. They told me about Lake Baikal, and how silvery creatures live in its depths, defending themselves against scientists who dive down there. They also claimes Gengis Khan's mother was from the island, and that the Khan himself was buried on Mount Izhemey, the highest point on the island, and a powerful curse was over the mountain. They are afraid to go there, and claim to see tons of UFOs that visit this place. However, it is worthy to note Mongolians claim Genghis Khan was buried elsewhere, and that his grave remains undiscovered.
After catching the spectacular view on the northern cape, I walked along the east shore, until I reached a "village" of 10 houses. Many people were camped near the treeline, so I spent the night there as well, watching the meteor shower happening above. I decided to go back to Irkutsk, via Huzhir, after that, but did not want to walk the day and a half back. So I decided to try to obtain a ride from another tourist bus. I asked each bus that stopped if they had a seat, but almost all were full. Regular routes also did not exist. After three hours of asking, I almost despaired, but finally found one bus that had a free seat, and appreciated every minute of the ride back. At Huzhir, I managed to catch the bus to Irkutsk in 10 minutes, and spent the night there.
The next morning, I went to the train station, and bought a ticket to Ulan Ude 30 minutes before the train left. Boarding the train, I felt pretty badass about my ticket which was hot off the press. Arriving in the afternoon, I only spent one night in Ulan Ude, since I was eager to leave Russia and see a new country.
However, the next morning, I found that the bus to Ulaanbaatar was fully booked. I learned there was another way, however. I took a bus to the Russian border town, Kyahkta, and poked around there for an hour. I reached the border, but it could only be crossed in a car. Fourtunately, many Mongolians operate taxis across the border, and they were currently going home. One man took me aborad, and I handed him the last of my rouble coins. The Mongolians are a lot different from the Russians - they went freely from car to car chatting as they waited at the border. When it was time to drive, they cut each other off and honked like hell.
Soon I was in Mongolia, and didn't know a single word of Mongolian. I thought I would be screwed, but fortunately, all the taxi drivers at the border speak Russian, and that saved my ass. I learned the bus station for Ulaanbaatar was in a town 20 km away. The taxi, a private car, would take me there for $1, or to UB for $13. I was amazed at how cheap it was. However, it would take me nowhere if 2 more people didn't show up. So I waited, and two Mongolian boys wanted to go to Ulaanbaatar. I was happy to go as well. Except that the seat belts didn't work, and we almost crashed head on as we tried to pass. Mongolians drive really crazily, and the roads have potholes everywhere, if it is even paved at all. I am really scared sometimes when I am in a Mongolian car.
Sunset in Irkutsk
The island in the lake