This e-mail is the sixth mailing of 2 years worth of monthly mailings.

I arrived in St Petersburg by bus fromTallinn.  The border was surprisingly small.  We just showed all our passports and we were off.  Not even any questions.  I was worried about the notorious border bribes so I made sure I was sitting with all the other tourists, so if there were any problems, I wasn't all alone on the bottom level of the double decker tour bus.  But at the border we all disembarked the bus, so it didn't matter.  Maybe the night bus is a different story, be warry if you take that one. I've heard horrible stories of other passengers just looking the other way when the officials asked for bribes. No one seemed to be on your side from what I heard. All I can say is that was nothing like my experience. It was as straight-forward as a crossing into Canada (wthout the smiles).

Onion roofs of Russia

I arrived in St Petersburg and was dropped off at the train station.  In retrospect this was the first non-western experience I've ever had. The staion was non-exsistant. We were simply dropped off on the road next to what seemed to be a train station. There was no explaination offered, but we we assured this was the last stop. It took a few minutes, and consulting with fellow backpackers to figure out this WAS St. Petersburg, but beyond that it we were on our own. I followed some backpackers who sounded like they know what was going on, and figured out the best place to get money. After changing our money, a Kiwi couple and I made our way to a hostel they had reservations at.  I had pre-arranged to stay with a local girl through a great website called Couchsurfing.com.  The service is for travelers who would like to meet people from around the world.  The theory is similar to "music sharing" webservices like Napster, but for couches.  The system only works if the people who use the service also offer their own couches when not traveling (though you don't have to).  The best thing about it is that travelers can now get even closer to the culture they're visiting by staying in a locals home, and maybe getting insiders tips.  The second best thing about it is that the whole service is free, so it's even cheaper than hostels!  The only catch is that I had planned on staying in "Piter" for over a week but Couchsurfing.com only recommends hosts and guests to plan on staying together for 1-3 nights.  I thought I'd stay in a hostel the first few nights and stay with my hostess, Alena, a few days later on Friday.  Then I could stay with her over the weekend when she had time from work.  Unfortuneately, that hostel was booked, and so were the next 2 I checked.  I called Alena to let her know I was in town, and she said she was with her friends just 1 subway stop away, and did I want to go watch Paul McCartney in concert with them.  How could I resist?  I went to meet her and her friends near the Winter Palace where McCartney was playing.  The crowds were rediculous and I didn't imagine we had any chance of seeing him, and the echoes off all the buildings made it impossible to hear him clearly either.  These "Piter" locals had no intention of waiting in the crowd with the masses, however.  Just before the sea of bodies, we took a turn down an alley.  I asked what the plan was and thought it was a great idea.  They said that there was a specific roof that a lot of local kids go to when there was a concert at the Winter Palace.  We came to a small square openning in the middle of this apartment complex.  A bunch of other kids were standing around looking dispirited.  They told Elena that the door to the stairway had been locked.  A woman was looking down from her window 4 floors up.  I began to suspect this was a little more shady than a simple roof party.  But if they were up for it, I was up for it.  I assumed I couldn't excactly apply my cultural perspective on caution.  They tried a few other doors and returned each time.  I knew it wasn't going to happen, but was satisfied with going out into the crowd to enjoy what I could.  As the woman started yelling at us from her 4th floor window, we made our way to the alley exit.  But just to the side, out of clear view of the woman everyone stopped again.  One of Alena's friends, Galina, was conspiring with the others to devise a plan to climb through a second story window that was open.  She was the smallest in the group, and over the next week, I would see she was the craziest as well.  She climbed up a drainage pipe and then over some thin electric wires and was in the window within a minute.  The locked door swung open and we all went in.  Now, I don't know Russian laws, but in every way, shape, and form that would constitute breaking and entering in America.  But we were inside and running up 6 floors of stairs before I knew it.  By the time I got to the top Alena and the rest had already learned that a new lock had been put on the door to the roof.  Shit.  I would have thought this persereant group would have figured something out, but they all seemed to know this was a dead end.  After a few minutes of catching our breath, and a joint, the group decended the stairs.  I was about halfway back and running to keep up.  I had an uneasy feeling, and my adrenaline was rushing, but I had an inexplicable faith in these locals that they knew what they were doing, or at least that this was just a normal day in Russia.  But as I reached the bottom of the stairs and followed one of the guys out the door, he stopped and almost made to run back inside, but then just put his head down, and slowly walked out the door.  Five police were there, and more were running up the alley.  We were fucked.  As a foriegner, this was bad, but as an American, it was the worst.  The police in Russia are well known to be corrupt and it's commonplace to be "fined" for nothing.  If you're European, you might be "fined" $50, but if the police find out you're American, they ask for up to $500.  Usually these bribes are asked for no reason, and I had never heard of an American acually breaking the law, so I suspected it would now be hard to avoid jail or at least a $500 bribe.  But as more police arrived in 2 cars I feared the $500 bribe might not grease enough pockets and being arrested seemed inevatable.  I'd been arrested before, and it was scary enough being arrested in America.  I was terrified of the unknown in Russia.

Alena, her roomate, Galina, and Hammer at Zoom

A few had escaped before the cops showed up, but Alena came back when she saw I had been caught.  We all lined up against the wall, and a lot of Russian was spoken.  I stayed silent in hopes that by some miracle, they would think I was Russian too.  Aside from B&E, and being American, I had not registered with the police as is the law.  The reason for this was simple; I wasn't allowed in St Petersburg!   On a Russian visa, you not only have to list your entry date, and exit date, but you also have to list your iterary, and when I applied for my invitation from Spain two months earlier I had no clue where I'd go, so I only listed Moscow.  So yeah, I was a sitting duck.   All of these things were rushing around in my mind, trying to think of a story to tell them that didn't seem so bad.  Galina was trying to get the attention of all the police so they didn't look at me too long.  I may have passed for Russian as a passerby, but I was still carrying my whole bag, and didn't stand a chance in hell if they spoke Russian to me.  I also thought they might look at my bag and become suspicious as to what my schoolbag had in it that made it so full.  As Galina was telling them we were just students, and didn't do anything wrong, I leaned over to Alena and whispered "what usually happens now?"  I was still in denial, and was hoping this was just an average day in Russia, and would all just go away.  She told me to just wait.  I think this instance is a good example of how a foriegn culture can be so different, and how you should sometimes put your own cultural expectations on the back burner.  Within a couple minutes most of the police had just walked away.  We were left with 3 or 4 police and none of them were talking to us anymore.  One had lit a cigarette and the others were chatting and laughing about something else.  It was a wierd moment.  They didn't seem like they were going to do anything.  We were still lined up against the wall just waiting for something, but I didn't know what.  Not backup.  There were plenty of cops there in the beginning, but they had just left.  The next thing I knew, the cop flicked his cigarette onto the ground, and stamped it out while giving Galina a nod.  Everyone quickly walked off, and Alena grabed my arm.  We just walked down the alley and out into the crowded streets.  It was as if I was tasting freedom.  I was so scared of Russian cops, I half expected them to let us go, only to chase after us and charge us with resisting arrest.  I couldn't, for the life of me, understand what just happened.  Alena explained that the laws in Russia were very different.  In a beurocratic sort of way, we couldn't be arrested because we were caught leaving the building; not inside the building.  The cops couldn't have charged us with anything ...unless they had searched us and found the weed in some peoples bags...  We laughed and listened to Paul McCartney's echoes from a distance.

Alena said it was no problem for me to stay with her, so I could relax for the rest of the day with her and her friends knowing I had a place to stay.  Her friends took me on a great tour of the city explaining the significance of important cathedrals and buildings, and were so  nice I started to suspect there was a catch.  In many places I've been even the friendliest of people will offer tours and their time, but expect you to pay them or at least buy the drinks when they take you to a bar, but this was the honest, no-strings-attatched "Piter way" I soon discovered to be shared by all the locals I met.  After just a few days I had met so many people and had been invited to so many homes, parties, and even road trips, that I couldn't make time to accept all the offers.  One guy, Alexi, and his wife, insisted on paying for my drinks and subway ride when they saw me doodling in a cafe and struck up conversation.  Another girl started joking around with me on the street and invited me out the next day with her friends.  Smiles were abound on the streets.  Not at all the picture I had been painted of the "stern Russian".

I spend most mornings with Alena as she would take me around to the different sites and good Russian eateries.  And then I would have the afternoons to myself to explore the bigger places like the Summer and Winter palace while Alena worked at her computer banking job.  We would meet up again at night to go out with more friends and get dinner at our favorite place, Zoom.  Russian food is not very diverse, but what they do, they do really well.  One of my favorite dishes is their national dish of borsch soup.  This cold beet soup was my favorite summer meal while in Russia.  It's cheap, very flavorful, and comes with a dolop of sour cream which when stirred in, perfects the wholoesome, healthy soup.  Alena swore by these and other Russian soups as the best diet for one's health.  I thought Vodka was the Russian cure-all, but I guess it's borsch!  The open bottle policy in Russia allows for good cheap fun at any hour by just buying a couple beers for $1 and walking around the city's parks and canals.  On one of my last nights a group of us went to watch the drawbridges open at 2AM (the only time the bridges open for big ships) with hundreds of other Petersburgers.  There's always someplace to go and have fun for free or for the price of a few beers.

Hanging out after watching the bridges raise

Speaking of free things to do at night, if you've ever heard of "White Nights" you probably know it comes from Russia. I think, specifically, from Saint Petersburg, actually. It is not above the arctic circle, but it is close enough that it never gets dark in the summer. Well, it was summer, and sure enough, the darkness never came. Even at 2 am, while we waited for the bridges, it looked like about 7 or 8pm in Boston. It was very bright, though the sun was below the horizon. It's the furthest North I've been.

A few days after arriving I finally had time to go to the Winter Palace.  The museum inside is called the Hermitage, and had been featured in the film Russian Ark.  I recommmend the film to everyone.  Not only is it beautiful, and interesting, but is also the worlds only full-length film to be made in one take.  That means there are no cuts.  Just one seemless 2-hour film with a beautiful backdrop of the Winter Palace.  I had seen it before I left, but the images from the film were still vivid.  I was able to use my student ID to get in for free, which was great.  The palace is huge, and almost every room is open to the public, so it can take a long time to get through.  And though not as big as the Louvre and without as extensive a collection, I can say without hesitation that the Hermitage building and rooms are the most over-the-top, decideant, beautiful of any museum or building I've ever seen.  I can't help but compair every museum and palace I've ever seen, or will see to the Winter Palace.  Watching Russian Ark, you'll understand.

Inside the Hermitage in the most lavish room I've ever seen

On my second day I got my digital camera pick-pocketed, so the pictures from Russia are limited to the few I took on disposable cameras.  And while those cameras can take surprisingly good pictures in the right conditions, they take predicatbly lousy pictures in most condistions.  Particularly, the pictures taken with the flash from inside the Hermitage are barely deciferable.  The good thing about that second day, though, was that despite having my digital camera stolen, I was having a great time in St. Petersburg, so it barely mattered to me.  Besides, I set out on this trip expecting to lose everything at least twice, and I had done remarkably well thus far with only my Eurail pass stolen.

The next evening I went to Galina's house with Alena.  Galina lives 45 minutes north of "Piter" on the Finish Gulf.  It was too late to catch the local train, so we hitch-hiked from the last subway stop.  The area was bleak and a bit unwelcoming as the setting sun plunged the surrounding fields into shadows.  There was nothing at that last subway stop except a highway, fields, and forest.  We walked a kilometer down the road to a pull-over area where we could safely hitch-hike.  It took about 15 minutes and 2 cars desperate for a prostitute before a normal person stopped for us.  Alena told me not to talk.  I never asked her why, but I suspect it was to keep the price down.  See, in most of the world, hitch-hiking is more acceptable than in the US, but it's not nessesarliy free.  In Russia you can do it, but you're likely to pay for it.  In Piter for instance, there are no taxi's.  If you need to get somewhere, you just flag down a driver who will probably be more than happy to drive you there for a few dollars worth of Rubles.  So a few minutes later we arrived at our destination and we picked up some wine at a street shack on the way to the apartment blocks.  Galina and her 2 guests had prepared a great dinner with a little French and a little Russian cuisine.  Galina's 2 guests were from France, and Russia.  The French girl had found her through Couchsurfing.com, and the Russian guy, Hammer, was a long-distance hitch-hiker on a break from his computer engeneering firm.  He also happened to be enourmously gifted in music, and had brought with him, a guitar and harmonicas.  So in Russian tradition, we each had to sing songs after eating.  The songs (led entirely by Hammer) continued late into the night as we finished the wine and deserts.  After dinner we went for a nice long walk to the beach to watch the sun come up with a bunch of other teenagers on the beach.  We couldn't see it through the rain that was starting, but it was a very peiceful, strange way to pull an all-nighter.  Hammer entertained us with some funny and emotional original songs throughout the night, and even late that morning when we all caught the local train back into town his energetic harmonica-playing kept us awake enough to get home.

That day I slept in a little at Alena's but then woke up with enough time to go see the Summer Palace.  This palace is the other residence of the royal family for use during the summer months (duh!).  Instead of containing all the decedance inside the buildings, the gold and marble is spread throughout the fountains and manicured grounds surrounding the palaces.  The location is about 40 kilometers out of town and the most direct route is by hydrofoil down a river and into a harbour, so I made it down to the docks at the Hermitage and spent the last of my pocket money to catch the 250 Ruble boat ride.  The ride was great, speeding 100 km/h above the water along the riverfront.  I had virtually no money left but assumed I could visit a bank machine once I got there.  However, we were dropped at a dock that openned only onto the palace grounds.  I had enough for the Russian entrance fee, but didn't have nearly enough for the exorbitant tourist entrance fee.  The 2-price standard they have in St. Petersberg and Moscow is strictly enforced and there's no way you can trick or beg your way around the heafty surcharges.  But my situation was diferent.  I thought there was no way they could just leave me on the docks, and since I truly didn't have the money, they would have to let me through to at least exit the front gates and find a bank machine.  However, my first encounter with the "stern Russian" was to be here and now.  The woman in her booth would not even look at me.  If I wasn't paying, I didn't exist.  It didn't matter what my reason was.  It just wasn't happening.  I was the only one left on the docks.  I knew she wasn't going to change her mind.  And thinking about it, I can understand how small a problem this was compaired to the relatively recent trials and tribulations she probably had to go through just to survive in post-communist Russia.  So I had to change my plan.  I couldn't even afford to get back to mainland on the boat.  I was stuck in no-mans-land without a passport.  I was going to have to beg for money.  I felt extraordinarliy bad about it. I knew, and so did everyone else, that I had more money than them.  Just not on me.  But I didn't want to stay on that dock all day, so when the next boat came in a few minutes later I started asking people for help.  It was not my highest moment.  Most people didn't even speak enough English to understand what I wanted, so they ignored me.  But one couple approached me after I'd given up, and asked if they could help.  I promised I'd find them after visitng the bank machine, but they doubted it.  I made it inside and started my walk past the fountains to the palace.

Summer Palace

Oh my God, this place is beauiful! Every fountain to covered in gold leaf, and there are a LOT of fountains. There's about a kilometer-long fountain from the dock to the palace, and the whole ting is lined with beautiful, lush, trees, and smaller gardens. After about 15 minutes walk, I arrived at the grand fountain, which was at least a couple acres and built on multiple levels up the hill side to the back of the palace at the top of the hill. Fountains and sculptures were spewing millions of gallons of water into a cacophany of rainbows and gold leaf. Thousands of visitors surrounded the massive waterworks. It was a highlight of my trip so far. I found an ATM, inconveniently placed inside the palace (who needs money INSIDE the museum? ...this should be outside the entrances...). And then I started my day-long stroll through the dozens of gardens. There were flower gardens, and parks, and wooded areas, and fountains, and fields, and every kind of space you could imagine in a park or giant garden. There were even trick fountains for kids, and unsuspecting couples which would turn onto YOU if you stepped on the wrong stone. Hahaha. There were villas and vacation homes for the royal guests (or mistresses?) and even a working farm on the far end. The place was immence, and by the end of the day, the sun was going down, and I was exausted.

The big fountain at the summer palace

I spent 5 days in" Piter", and got to know the inner parts of the city very well.  I enjoyed Russian cafes, took a date to the ballet at the Pushkin Theatre, explored the museums and onion-top cathedrals, and partook in many traditions with my Russian freinds.  At the end of the week I wanted to get down to Moscow so I could spend a few days there before catching my train across Syberia to Beijing. 

During the week I spent in "Piter", I became used to the convenience of mobile phones.  My friends all had them, and were always available to make a plan because of it.  I've always had a mobile back in The States, but decided not to bring it with me when I left for my trip.  I never thought I'd see any use in having a phone with me when all my friends were half way around the world back in Boston.  I began to see travelers with mobile phones quite regularly, but agreed with the majority of travelers who scoffed at them as a luxury that real travelers would never lower themselves to.  About 10% of travelers I meet have mobile phones.  They usualy say it's for emergency.  To me there are only a few times I could see that being any use, and even then, I don't know if they would have time to find their phone, figure out the number of the local police, and know enough of the local language to get help to save themselves in time.  However, a good number of people would ask me for my mobile number as if they expected I would have one.  And indeed when you've just met someone, and are splitting up for the day it would be nice not to have to plan a future time and meeting spot in that foriegn city.  I enjoy being free with my time, and not tied down to times and places as I travel.  And so it was in Piter that I realized there was no reason not to get a cheap phone.  The phones cost $100 and the SIM cards cost $5 with $5 of credit on them.  In Russia $5 of talk time will get you through a month of SMS easily.  So I decided on my last day to get a phone so I could be in touch with my friends as needed.  It was nice SMSing my freinds and family back home as well.  Being able to get in touch with them at the touch of a button for a mere $0.05 per message is a real treat, and makes me feel a little closer to those friends I won't see for a few years.

My cute mobile phone
(later, given to a Thai girl who needed it more)

Alena had decided to go to Moscow with me.  We thought about hitch-hiking, but ended up catching the train to avoid that cold overnight experience.  We caught the train with moments to spare and settled into our hard beds.  The sleeping cars in most of the world are doorless.  You share you little area with 5 other people sleeping on two 3-tier bunk beds with a fold down table in-between.  For security it's best to get the top bed and sleep on your bag, as the area is wide open to the hallway which always has traffic coming and going.  Our train ride got off to a tense start just as we left the station.  I was talking to Alena and our sleeping quarter partners when there was an explosion in the hallway next to us!  Glass flew everywhere and women screamed.  I immediately thought it was a bomb.  I looked over and saw a woman by the window covered in glass, and the window shattered with a hole in the middle of it.  On the floor was a glass bottle.  Someone had thrown a bottle at the train - maybe to break the bottle on the metal, maybe to break a window - and it had caused a small explosion of glass with a big noise when it hit our window.  Well, everyone seemed to just go back to what they were doing (except for 2 women who helped take the glass off the woman at the wondow) which I thought was a strange responce.  No train cunductor came to clean up the glass for a long time.  Before we went to sleep they had taped the window hole and closed the metal shade on the inside.  I slept sound while Alena stayed up all night talking to the couple on the bed across from her.

We arrived in Moscow the next morning and found the subway.  Alena helped me find my train to my hostel and we agreed to call eachother later.  The subway system in Moscow is one of the most famous in the world, and for good reason.  Each station is more like a museum of Russian history and communist design than a mere subway station.  Many stations were designed by Stalin to double as bomb shelters, so they are also some of the deepest stations in the world.  Once you arrive at the bottom of the unique escalators and through the meriad halways and coridors it's like walking into a hanger shaped-ballroom of the Stalin era.  Every station is decked out in mozaics, chandaliers, and proud communist murals.  the details are impecable, and but for a thick layer of dust and grim, the stations remain completely unmolested.  There are a dozen different lines, directions, and transfer stations, and they are all in cyrilic which takes a little time to start understanding.  My main problem was that many of their letters look like ours, so I had to constantly remember that the P is a B and the B is an R, and the R is an R but sounds like an S.  Yikes!!  Furthermore many stations are spelled the same except for a backwards letter in the middle of the 20 letter word.  Thank God for moble phones in that case, otherwise I never would have met back up with Alena.  Well, once I got a handle on where my hostel was (made even harder because they translated the subway station name into English unnecessarily in my guide book), I dropped off my bag and took a shower before heading back out to meet Alena and her friend, Tanya, near the Olympic park.  Moscow hosted the Olympics 30 years ago, but the old Olympic park is still a higfhlight of the Moscow experience.  We climbed up the hill to the lookout and top of the ski jump where, traditionally, wedding parties come to celebrate the happy union.  So we walked around and ate ice cream while watching all the wedding parties celebrating and getting their pictures taken.

Looking up at the Olympic Ski Jump

After making our way down the weed-covered ski slope we got back on the subway and rode to the famous Red Square next to the Kremlin.  A walk around the Red Square is mandatory during any visit to Moscow.  The imposing space is only challenged by the north walls of the mysterious Kremlin.  The name "Red Square" is neither in reference to blood spilt, the red bricks, nor the communist color red.  It is a poor translation of the Russian name Krasnaya Ploschad, which means both "red" and "beautiful".  The square is famous more for the the events that have taken place in Russian history and announce here by Stalin, Lenin, and the rest, rather than any events taken place in the Red Square itself.  Inside the square lies Lenin's tomb which draws lines of people everyday.  The specticle is bizaar, and morbid, but believe me when I say Russians come from all over the country to see the preserved body of Lenin himself.  The brisk walk is said not to be worth it, mainly because the guards don't let anyone stop for even a moment, but also because the concensus seems to be that the body is a wax fake.  I didn't bother, but it is worth noting that that mosolium is there.

Red Square

After a fair bit of walking around we decided to go get ready for the nightlife.  Tanya was housesitting at the time, so we went out to that apartment and made a plan for the night.  The plan had to start with real Russian vodka, I insisted.  But when we went shopping for vodka, I bought the wrong stuff, and it ended up being really harsh.  But it did the trick and we headed out for the clubs at eleven.  The sky was still bright.  We arrived at the club, which was an underground place with a few rooms and outdoor patio.  Not upscale, but more like Pheonix Landing, or a real local place with (most likely) the best music scene in town.  Well, I was liking it, but the most embarrasing thing was about to happen.  Only 30 minutes after arriving, I was dancing with Alena and Tanya when all of a sudden I was on the floor.  But not just on the floor.  On the floor with my right leg bent sideways at the knee in a way it really shouldn't be.  It hurt so badly, but mainly I was in a rush to straighten it out and get off the floor.  I had no idea what was going on.  A year and a half earlier the same thing happened to my other leg while I was bartending.  It hurt so much I had to leave the shift early, but the difference was I had caught myself halfway down behind the bar.  This time I was laid out on the floor and my knee was fucked.  I remember Alena laughing and asking what the hell I was doing down there, but I couldn't even get up.  My tendons and ligaments were ripped and shifted so badly that I had to use my hands to straighten out  my leg.  Nothing poped back or anything and it was excrusiating to stand up, or even sit in a chair.  I was partly in shock, and partly in denial.  I refused to believe I had done any perminent damage just by dancing.  So I sat down, and waited it out for the rest of the night.  When we went home I had to be supported on the shoulders of both Alena, and Tanya.  It sucked.

The next few days weren't any better.  I didn't want to seek medical attention in Russia, and was still in denial that it could possibly be anything serious.  I was only dancing after all.  I self diagnosed it as a dislocated knee.  I knew it was painful, and very hard to set back in place, and since I couldn't bend my knee even a little bit I thought the bones just weren't meeting up to make a proper join because it was dislocated.  The next day I went to Tanya's real home and her brother-in-law tried his hardest to pull my knee back appart to relocate it.  In retrospect this was a bad idea.  It only made it worse, and prolonged the injury.  I hobbled back to my hostel alone and went to bed early.  The following day I was getting used to the pain, and didn't want to seem like a whimp, so I said yes to going on a picnic with Alena and Tanya.  I went to meet them to go shopping for items.  We got plenty of food and beer, and headed out.  It wasn't a long walk to the subway station, but it took about an hour because of me.  Eventually we made it to the outskirts of town and found a great, plush, green hill of grass to enjoy our picnic.  It was realaxing and I almost forgot about my knee while sitting there on the ground (and drinking beer...).

Picnic on the grassy hill with Tanya and Alena

The day after, I had to catch my train.  It is the longest train ride in the world at 9,000 kilometers, 6 days, and 8 time zones, so I did some shopping for reading material and groceries.  The Lonely Planet travel guide for Russia has a whole section devoted to this famous train ride, so I was well prepared for what to expect, and how to pack.  I bought 3 Russian novels and 1 Pushkin collection of poetry.  It seemed appropriate to be reading Russian literature while crossing Syberia.  The train has a dining car, but it's usually agreed you're better off bringing your own food.  Each car has a somovar, which is a water boiler always filled with boiling water (theoretically), so it's a good idea to have instant noodles, soup, coffee, tea, and coco before you leave Moscow.  There is nowhere on the way to buy groceries, but each station along the way is filled with villagers selling their produce, local foods, and water on the platforms.  I met up with Tanya one last time for lunch (alcohol based of course), and headed to my car.

Some villagers selling thier produce at one of the many Trans-Mongolian stops

This train is one of 3 that cross from Moscow to the Far East.  The truly famous one is called the Trans-Syberian Express.  It is 7 days and goes deep into Syberia before heading due south to Beijing.  Mine is the often-prefered one that is a day less, but goes both to Syberia and Mongolia before heading to Beijing.  The other train, Trans-Manchurian Exrpress, goes 8,000 in 6 days.  Each train has 1st and 2nd class.  First class is quite nice and each private room has 2 beds, air conditioning, and a private shower.  Second class is pretty standard with each private room having 2 bunkbeds, and a table shared among 4 people.  That's where I stayed.  But the truth is that that's the better place to stay.  The AC was only needed on the last day in the Gobi dessert and china, but I heard complaints from 1st class passengers that it didn't work.  The shower could have been a nice touch, but all in all, we all stunk pretty bad, and you're better off joinin' 'em rather than having to smell 'em.  And besides, the real travelers stay 2nd class, so there's loads of parties and talking.  Only tourists stay 1st class, and they keep to themselve pretty much.  Boring.

The 3 Pols, Tore, and Sigrid sitting on the bunkbeds of our cabin

So it was on train #4, the Trans-Mongolian Exress, that I borded to leave Moscow, and ultimately, Russia.  I arrived in my car to meet a Norwiegian couple and a Polish teacher.  The couple were about 23 and very nice.  Tore, the elder, was very talkative and interesting.  His partner, Sigrid, was more quiet, but spoke perfectly good English, and could understand everything fine.  The Polish teacher was in his 30's and taught German and English to high schoolers, so his English was also good.  This was an important first step - that we could all comunicate with one another.  The Polish guy in my room was with 2 other Poles who had been roomed with a Mongilian group.  They didn't speak English as well, but neither did the Mongilians, so it was ok.  We got to know everyine in our car within an hour or two.  There was an American couple who had purchased an entire room for themselves, but eventually got forced to share it with some Mongolians; the Mongolians, who turned out to be military, in 2 rooms; a Russian group; and a rambuncious group of British guys.  After getting to know everyone the Mongolians dispenced with the vodka pouring.  Yikes!  I didn't allow myself to get drunk, but the Mongolians sure weren't holding themselves back.  By the end of the night the capitan of the regiment was counting the freckles on the arm of nervous Sigrid.  Not knowing the Mongolian culture, and uncomfortable about being in such close quarters with military men who disliked us, we waited for the other Mongolians to calmly escort him to bed.  The next 4 days rolled by uneventfully.  The scenery between Moscow and Lake Baikel doesn't change too much. The Ural mountains are just little hills and cliffs.  And the numerous "points of interest" marked in our Lonely Planet books were dependant on us being able to see the mile markers which were nowhere to be seen (we were looking on the wrong side of the train), so aside from a station stop every 2 to 4 hours we just talked a lot.  While it was uneventful, it wasn't boring.  I didn't get more than 2 chances to read in the whole 6 days, so obviously we were very social.  Once we got to Lake Baikel, the deepest lake in the world, things got more interesting.  The scenery began to change regularly.  Also, the lake is a major disembarkation spot, so many people got off.  But many new travelers replaced them, so our group had to meet eachother all over.

Countless hours were spent like this -
Just looking out the windows, and talking to fellow travellers

I wish I had time to stop at Lake Baikel because it seemd like a very serene place. And very Russian. But my visa was running out, and you can not extend a Russian visa within Russia.

Between Lake Baikel and Beijing the scenery changed from serene lake and woods, to rolling rocky fields, to golf course like views across the treeless, grassy fields, to the barren sand of the Gobi Dessert, to rice patties, to sharp mountains topped with a spiderweb of the Great Wall.  Again, at Ulan Battar we got a whole new group of fellow travelers to exchange stories with, and this time I realy felt like I made a mistake by not getting off. Mongolia, I was to find out, was the most praised country by other travelers in Asia. Everyone who had been said it was the best country they'd ever been to. EVER. That's a huge statement when coming from the mouths of travelers such as these. People who had presumably been all over the world, and tasted a huge variety of cultures. But I didn't know anything about it until it was far behind me. It has now become the country I most want to go to, but also turns out to be one of the most difficult. Try finding a flight to Mongolia next time you're online...

long border waits

Monglians hiding boxes

wheel changing

theif in Ulan Bataar

Gurs

Chinese stares

Great Wall

arrival in Beijing

See pics here.

Take care at home, and on your travels,
Christian

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