Chita, Moscow, home!
Nov. 16th, 2012 11:14 pmO behold! It's the last text entry of this journal for the time being.
So, on a lovely late-summer afternoon in Chita, Johanna and I made our way to a grocery store and bought supplies for a small dinner. We didn't know if Natasha was going to be offering dinner, but we didn't want to ask in case she wasn't, so it was a good idea not to be starving. We returned to our hotel room, ate, took a shower, and generally relaxed for a while, until it was time to meet Natasha. She arrived at our hotel, and together we all went for a lovely walk in the darkening evening. Natasha showed us many lovely buildings, a surprising number of them banks; several places of worship, including a mosque almost next door to a synagogue; and, best of all, her childhood home and the school she used to go to, as well as the school she was currently teaching in. When it had got almost completely dark, we made our way to our hotel and Natasha to her home. We were told Chita isn't dangerous, even after dark, and it was only ten or something.
The next day, we took a very slow morning, as we were expecting some activity later in the day. Some time after midday, we went to find our way to the marketplace of the city. There, we ate a good cafeteria lunch and shopped a tiny little bit before it was time to get back to the hotel. There, Natasha called sometime us and said she's going to be a tiny bit late from what we agreed, and thus Johanna bravely had the first Russian-language phone conversation of her life. Eventually we signed out, took our big backpacks and walked to Natasha's home.
We found her apartment again easily; Chita has a perfect grid plan, and anyway it's not that big. Natasha caught up with us outside her home, but we didn't go in because, as it turned out, her mom was just about to leave for China (rather common from East Siberia, and I gather not that expensive by bus) in a few hours, was very nervous, and didn't want to be disturbed. But we couldn't really go anywhere before leaving our backpacks. So perhaps discourteously, we asked if we could very quickly leave them at their apartment, were allowed to do so, and then went to run some errands with Natasha. Soon enough, Natasha's boyfriend Pavel called, and we hopped in his car and drove to the countryside!
We went about a 40 minutes' drive away, to a spot by a river, in a small forest. Judging by the tracks and, unfortunately, litter, it was a very popular place for Chita-dwellers to come and spend their day off. Aside from the human leavings, the place was very beautiful. It was also strange to me how even after we'd come so many thousands of kilometres from Finland, the nature looked more or less familiar. The species were cousins to the species we have at home, and the overall colouring, height, appearance of the plant life seemed the same.
We drank a bit of the river water, which tasted good, and then set out a bit further to have a small picnic. The Russians had brought pastries, which we sat down to eat, and looked at some photos from Natasha's phone; most of the conversation was between Johanna and Natasha. As befits Russian culture, where women seem to assume most of the leadership of the social situations in mixed company. And Johanna is somewhat more outgoing than I to begin with, and Pavel seemed like a bit of a quiet man.
When the mosquitoes found us, we started back, following a partly flooded sand road, but Pavel was a good driver and his small car powerful. On the way back, we stopped to eat some крушиновая berries, which Wikipedia tells me are called sea buckthorns in English. Yum.
Upon arriving back to the city, we separated from Natasha and Pavel for a while, with plans to meet again later in the evening. Once more, we didn't know about dinner plans and didn't feel it was polite to ask, so we went to a grocery store, bought some fish, some salad and some beers, and went sitting in the park to consume all this. But we'd barely sat down when we had our only police encounter of our trip: some police officers arrived and told us we can't drink there. We hadn't been aware of any public-drinking laws in Russia, but obviously we took our drinks and went away quickly. We then consumed our beers very secretively in the midst of a tiny park, with scarves wrapped around the bottles. We sat around for a while and killed time, not feeling up to doing anything in particular, before it was time to go to Natasha's again.
Natasha, again, met us outside her home. We went in; it was a lovely small apartment, with a fluffy cat (which Johanna was allergic to, unfortunately). We relaxed for a bit as Natasha prepared some food. I watched the news on TV, understanding only just the gist of each story, but it was very interesting nevertheless. At some point, Natasha's friend Svetlana showed up, as did Pavel, and we sat down for dinner, wine, and a lot of conversation in both English and Russian. I liked the dynamic of the group, we had a good time and some laughs and a lot of interesting cultural exchange. We also showed pictures of our families and of Helsinki, and we all exchanged email addresses and small gifts. The dinner had the traditional multitude of different meats (there went my vegetarianism, but politeness first) with cooked, um, I think it might have been barley.
After dinner, we sat down on the computer to look at pictures of each other and our friends on Facebook. Oh modern times, where social media follows you half-way around the world. At some point, a thunderstorm started, and we were told that according to a Russian saying, rain before a journey is good luck. Then it was very late, and we'd have a very early wake-up, so we walked Svetlana to her home to make sure she'd be safe, and then went to bed ourselves; Pavel had left a bit earlier. Johanna had Natasha's mother's bed and I had a thick mattress on the floor, which was comfortable enough.
Pavel had very gladly offered to drive us to the airport, so he showed at seven to take us there. We packed up, thanked Natasha, and sat down for a bit; sitting down before leaving on a journey is another Russian tradition, and Johanna and I drove to the airport with Pavel. The check-in and security check and everything went well enough; Chita airport was small compared to many I've seen, but palace-like as a true Russian station should be. In the plane, where we were soon served a good breakfast and then, later, a very good lunch. We'd brought a lot of things to do on the plane, books and the computer with some movies and everything, but in the end, we slept most of the way. When they announced that we're nearing Moscow, both Johanna and I thought it was some sort of a joke, surely there must be three or four hours left of the seven-hour flight. Quite a pleasant flight, then, and I can recommend Siberian Airlines to anyone. Our plane had left at about ten am and arrived at about eleven am, due to the time difference, which made that day into a weird parallel-universe experience.
Moscow was a bit of a shock. After the smallish, quiet Siberian cities, a true metropolis seemed intrusive, too loud and too busy. Also, at first we had to perform a series of unpleasant tasks, namely taking two metros to the Leningradskiy station, making sure our train leaves from there, leaving our backpacks in the right place in the huge station, making sure the baggage room would be open late in the evening when we wanted them back, and then taking another two metros to another station, where I'd agreed to meet a British friend currently living in Moscow. All of this took hours and was every bit as unpleasant as I'd thought, and we were confused at the station complex formed by Leningradskiy railway station, Jaroslavskiy railway station and Komsomolskaya metro station.
But finally, some half an hour late I think, we found my friend Louise, and I experienced another slight culture shock at meeting a British person. British cordiality is so different from Russian cordiality! (Finnish cordiality: does it exist?) Louise took us to a pub, we drank some tea and ate a bit and exchanged news, and I, and possibly Johanna as well, experienced a thorough inability to sum up our trip neatly. So much had happened and so recently that it was not yet formed in my mind, despite my having blogged all through the journey.
After a pleasant but brief time at the pub, Louise had to leave for work, so we were left on our own. We went wandering around and soon found our way to the Kremlin and a big souvenir market. So we set out to shop for all the souvenirs we'd refrained from buying when there was more of our trip left, spent a few hours on the market and were very successful. Then we wandered around aimlessly for quite a while, saw the river and some lovely buildings but didn't really spend time anywhere. We wanted to see the Red Square, but it was inexplicably closed. Eventually we decided to try and find the marketplace Louise had directed us to.
Find it we did, but they didn't sell pickled cucumbers there like we'd hoped, and also we were getting increasingly tired. It was now about 6 p.m., but out inner clocks were saying 1 a.m. already, and for all the sleeping in the plane, it had still been a short and badly-slept night. After a moment of desperation, we made our way to a very western-style cafe and ordered some excellent pizzas and coffee, which perked us up a little bit. We did a very short shopping tour on the market and then took the metro back to our train station, did an effective run to the nearby supermarket, and then waited for our train. We spent time first in one cafe, which was nice and affordable but very cold, and then in a restaurant where I think they frowned upon us because we were scruffy and had a ton of stuff and didn't want to buy food, only drinks.
The train was not the old-fashioned and atmospheric one we'd expected; either we'd had a different image of the Tolstoy on our minds, or else they have several different trains that run the line. But no matter; the going was smooth, the beds were soft, and our cabin-mates were quiet. (West Russians seem very reserved compared to Siberians! But we were exhausted, so not socialising much was a good thing at that point.) So we went to blissful sleep as soon as the train had left.
The next day, we woke up to passport control, and then, soon enough, we were in Helsinki, Finland. Home! I was left thinking I want to go back to Russia, soon. And for longer.
So, on a lovely late-summer afternoon in Chita, Johanna and I made our way to a grocery store and bought supplies for a small dinner. We didn't know if Natasha was going to be offering dinner, but we didn't want to ask in case she wasn't, so it was a good idea not to be starving. We returned to our hotel room, ate, took a shower, and generally relaxed for a while, until it was time to meet Natasha. She arrived at our hotel, and together we all went for a lovely walk in the darkening evening. Natasha showed us many lovely buildings, a surprising number of them banks; several places of worship, including a mosque almost next door to a synagogue; and, best of all, her childhood home and the school she used to go to, as well as the school she was currently teaching in. When it had got almost completely dark, we made our way to our hotel and Natasha to her home. We were told Chita isn't dangerous, even after dark, and it was only ten or something.
The next day, we took a very slow morning, as we were expecting some activity later in the day. Some time after midday, we went to find our way to the marketplace of the city. There, we ate a good cafeteria lunch and shopped a tiny little bit before it was time to get back to the hotel. There, Natasha called sometime us and said she's going to be a tiny bit late from what we agreed, and thus Johanna bravely had the first Russian-language phone conversation of her life. Eventually we signed out, took our big backpacks and walked to Natasha's home.
We found her apartment again easily; Chita has a perfect grid plan, and anyway it's not that big. Natasha caught up with us outside her home, but we didn't go in because, as it turned out, her mom was just about to leave for China (rather common from East Siberia, and I gather not that expensive by bus) in a few hours, was very nervous, and didn't want to be disturbed. But we couldn't really go anywhere before leaving our backpacks. So perhaps discourteously, we asked if we could very quickly leave them at their apartment, were allowed to do so, and then went to run some errands with Natasha. Soon enough, Natasha's boyfriend Pavel called, and we hopped in his car and drove to the countryside!
We went about a 40 minutes' drive away, to a spot by a river, in a small forest. Judging by the tracks and, unfortunately, litter, it was a very popular place for Chita-dwellers to come and spend their day off. Aside from the human leavings, the place was very beautiful. It was also strange to me how even after we'd come so many thousands of kilometres from Finland, the nature looked more or less familiar. The species were cousins to the species we have at home, and the overall colouring, height, appearance of the plant life seemed the same.
We drank a bit of the river water, which tasted good, and then set out a bit further to have a small picnic. The Russians had brought pastries, which we sat down to eat, and looked at some photos from Natasha's phone; most of the conversation was between Johanna and Natasha. As befits Russian culture, where women seem to assume most of the leadership of the social situations in mixed company. And Johanna is somewhat more outgoing than I to begin with, and Pavel seemed like a bit of a quiet man.
When the mosquitoes found us, we started back, following a partly flooded sand road, but Pavel was a good driver and his small car powerful. On the way back, we stopped to eat some крушиновая berries, which Wikipedia tells me are called sea buckthorns in English. Yum.
Upon arriving back to the city, we separated from Natasha and Pavel for a while, with plans to meet again later in the evening. Once more, we didn't know about dinner plans and didn't feel it was polite to ask, so we went to a grocery store, bought some fish, some salad and some beers, and went sitting in the park to consume all this. But we'd barely sat down when we had our only police encounter of our trip: some police officers arrived and told us we can't drink there. We hadn't been aware of any public-drinking laws in Russia, but obviously we took our drinks and went away quickly. We then consumed our beers very secretively in the midst of a tiny park, with scarves wrapped around the bottles. We sat around for a while and killed time, not feeling up to doing anything in particular, before it was time to go to Natasha's again.
Natasha, again, met us outside her home. We went in; it was a lovely small apartment, with a fluffy cat (which Johanna was allergic to, unfortunately). We relaxed for a bit as Natasha prepared some food. I watched the news on TV, understanding only just the gist of each story, but it was very interesting nevertheless. At some point, Natasha's friend Svetlana showed up, as did Pavel, and we sat down for dinner, wine, and a lot of conversation in both English and Russian. I liked the dynamic of the group, we had a good time and some laughs and a lot of interesting cultural exchange. We also showed pictures of our families and of Helsinki, and we all exchanged email addresses and small gifts. The dinner had the traditional multitude of different meats (there went my vegetarianism, but politeness first) with cooked, um, I think it might have been barley.
After dinner, we sat down on the computer to look at pictures of each other and our friends on Facebook. Oh modern times, where social media follows you half-way around the world. At some point, a thunderstorm started, and we were told that according to a Russian saying, rain before a journey is good luck. Then it was very late, and we'd have a very early wake-up, so we walked Svetlana to her home to make sure she'd be safe, and then went to bed ourselves; Pavel had left a bit earlier. Johanna had Natasha's mother's bed and I had a thick mattress on the floor, which was comfortable enough.
Pavel had very gladly offered to drive us to the airport, so he showed at seven to take us there. We packed up, thanked Natasha, and sat down for a bit; sitting down before leaving on a journey is another Russian tradition, and Johanna and I drove to the airport with Pavel. The check-in and security check and everything went well enough; Chita airport was small compared to many I've seen, but palace-like as a true Russian station should be. In the plane, where we were soon served a good breakfast and then, later, a very good lunch. We'd brought a lot of things to do on the plane, books and the computer with some movies and everything, but in the end, we slept most of the way. When they announced that we're nearing Moscow, both Johanna and I thought it was some sort of a joke, surely there must be three or four hours left of the seven-hour flight. Quite a pleasant flight, then, and I can recommend Siberian Airlines to anyone. Our plane had left at about ten am and arrived at about eleven am, due to the time difference, which made that day into a weird parallel-universe experience.
Moscow was a bit of a shock. After the smallish, quiet Siberian cities, a true metropolis seemed intrusive, too loud and too busy. Also, at first we had to perform a series of unpleasant tasks, namely taking two metros to the Leningradskiy station, making sure our train leaves from there, leaving our backpacks in the right place in the huge station, making sure the baggage room would be open late in the evening when we wanted them back, and then taking another two metros to another station, where I'd agreed to meet a British friend currently living in Moscow. All of this took hours and was every bit as unpleasant as I'd thought, and we were confused at the station complex formed by Leningradskiy railway station, Jaroslavskiy railway station and Komsomolskaya metro station.
But finally, some half an hour late I think, we found my friend Louise, and I experienced another slight culture shock at meeting a British person. British cordiality is so different from Russian cordiality! (Finnish cordiality: does it exist?) Louise took us to a pub, we drank some tea and ate a bit and exchanged news, and I, and possibly Johanna as well, experienced a thorough inability to sum up our trip neatly. So much had happened and so recently that it was not yet formed in my mind, despite my having blogged all through the journey.
After a pleasant but brief time at the pub, Louise had to leave for work, so we were left on our own. We went wandering around and soon found our way to the Kremlin and a big souvenir market. So we set out to shop for all the souvenirs we'd refrained from buying when there was more of our trip left, spent a few hours on the market and were very successful. Then we wandered around aimlessly for quite a while, saw the river and some lovely buildings but didn't really spend time anywhere. We wanted to see the Red Square, but it was inexplicably closed. Eventually we decided to try and find the marketplace Louise had directed us to.
Find it we did, but they didn't sell pickled cucumbers there like we'd hoped, and also we were getting increasingly tired. It was now about 6 p.m., but out inner clocks were saying 1 a.m. already, and for all the sleeping in the plane, it had still been a short and badly-slept night. After a moment of desperation, we made our way to a very western-style cafe and ordered some excellent pizzas and coffee, which perked us up a little bit. We did a very short shopping tour on the market and then took the metro back to our train station, did an effective run to the nearby supermarket, and then waited for our train. We spent time first in one cafe, which was nice and affordable but very cold, and then in a restaurant where I think they frowned upon us because we were scruffy and had a ton of stuff and didn't want to buy food, only drinks.
The train was not the old-fashioned and atmospheric one we'd expected; either we'd had a different image of the Tolstoy on our minds, or else they have several different trains that run the line. But no matter; the going was smooth, the beds were soft, and our cabin-mates were quiet. (West Russians seem very reserved compared to Siberians! But we were exhausted, so not socialising much was a good thing at that point.) So we went to blissful sleep as soon as the train had left.
The next day, we woke up to passport control, and then, soon enough, we were in Helsinki, Finland. Home! I was left thinking I want to go back to Russia, soon. And for longer.
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