Train Life: Life on the Rails

I haven't talked too much about traveling on the rails, but I can't conclude my blog without giving a run down on train life.  There are three classes to choose from when you buy a long distance train ticket.  First class (I think they get functioning bathrooms and have access to a bar and restaurant), second class where you get a private 4-person room, and 3rd class where I obviously stayed.  Economy for life!  My motto.

I cannot vouch for the first two classes.  But third class is quite an experience.  You get assigned a bed number and it is a roll of the die.  You are either top bunk or bottom bunk.  If you're top bunk and you're not planning on staying in a laying position for days and days on end, you best make friends with your neighbor in the lower bunk.

Once you find your assigned bunk you are given sheets and you can dress your "bed".  You can ask for a cup which you can use to get hot or cold water.  This is all you have access to.  No food, no other meals.  Hopefully you brought your own.  You can buy Ramen or instant potatoes from the staff, but who wants to live off that for days?  Days.  Gross.

There is no shower and no running water in the bathroom.  I hesitate to even call it a bathroom.  The toilet is metal and when you "flush" it, it empties its contents into the wind. Just, outside.  Note to all, don't ever plan on taking a stroll along the tracks of the trans-syberian railway, I imagine it's not a pretty sight.

Now let me give you an idea on timing here.  The longest journey you can take on the fast train is 7 days straight Vladivostok to Moscow.  One straight week.  No shower, no real bathroom, instant potatoes.  The longest I spent was 69 hours.  It was enough.

Now, there are times when the trains stop for about 20 minutes.  In this time, if you dare, (the trains are precise down to the second in terms of arrival and takeoff) you can run off the train and grab some food at the station or go to the bathroom.  In the eastern part of the motherland, good luck finding a bathroom in the train station, they're too small.  In the Western part, you have to pay to use the bathroom.

I loved being on the train, but it's certainly not for everyone.  It's also illegal to drink on the train, so naturally, people hide their alcohol under the little table they are given.  They play these bizarre unlearnable card games to pass the time.  And they whisper a lot.  People make friends, and play guitar.  Occasionally they play a random Backstreet Boys song over the loudspeaker...it's really quite and experience.  It's also a smelly and unhygienic experience.  I think everyone should do this once.

Ivan the Terrible Fun Facts

In Korea, when anyone jokes about getting a drink or taking a shot, they click their tongues and gesture shooting alcohol or what they call "one shot."

In Russia, when drinking or taking a shot is mentioned people tap or flick the side of their neck.  After the third or fourth time witnessing this, I had to ask.

Turns out, during Ivan the Terrible's reign, the only people allowed to drink were people of authority.  That is, people in power under Ivan.  To signify their authority, they were branded with tattoos on their neck.

If people wanted to get a drink at the bar, they had to show their tattoo.  They would walk in and tap or flick their tattoo to prove they were allowed in to get a drink.  

And the habit holds true.  I thought it was interesting.

Day 36: Saying goodbye to The Motherland

My last day in the Motherland.  It's the saddest day.  I am in love with this country and vow to go back in my allotted 3-year visa.  

I visited Peterhof today, Peter the Great's Summer Palace.  As you might imagine, not as glorious in the winter.  Actually it was still great.  Of course, the fountain cascade was not in effect.  However, the contrast of the white snow against the brilliant golden statues was definitely a sight to see.  

Again at this place, I somehow got in for free.  Again, I swear I was entering at the entrance.  But alas I did not.  No one batted an eye at me.  I took a cold, yet beautiful stroll around the palace and said goodbye to my beloved Russia.

I had a long-ass layover in Beijing, China in an airport even more uncomfortable and expensive than JFK.  I met a Korean man making the same journey as I.  I kid you not, we randomly ran into each other about 6 times at the airport.  First in China at immigration, next on the first plane, then on the second plane, finally after landing in Korea while we waited for the buses to start going.  It was eerie.

I left Russia Wednesday evening and arrived in Korea Friday morning at 2am and went to work at my job in Yeosu, which is 5 hours from Seoul, at 2pm that same day.  I'm a champ.

Day 35: The Theatre

After walking around the palace today, I decided I had to at least try to get tickets to a show.  I can't leave Russia without having at least tried to get tickets to a show at one of these incredible and ancient historical theatres.  I walked into the Alexandrinsky Theatre two hours before curtain and asked for a ticket assuming my chances were slim to none.  Well I got one for tonight, for 4 bucks.  That's right, 4 smackeroos.

I had a drink before heading to the theatre.  After talking to the bartender I learned something really interesting about St. Petersburg.  In summer, sometime at night, the bridges go up for the boats and ships to go through and they don't come down until early the next morning.  There are multiple rivers that run through St. Petersburg.  This means, if you are stuck on the wrong side of the river when the bridges go up, you are SOL.  There is no way to get to the other side of the river.  You have to stay where you are until the bridges go back down early in the morning.  If you're out late, you're staying out late.  This also means the bars stay open all night long to accommodate.  Perhaps St. Petersburg alone pays a huge contribution to the alcohol consumption statistics in Russia.

Later on, I walked into what I swear was the front of this theatre.  If could not have looked more 'front-of-theatre' like.  Yet somehow, somehow, I went into the wrong enterance, thus entering into a maze of confusion.  I amazingly enough figured out where my seat was despite not once encountering any staff whatsoever.  No one checked my ticket.  No one interacted with me.  I didn't even set my eyes upon a single person who works there.  I could have walked in and saw that show for free.  Absolutely could have.

This show, I don't know how to describe it.  The set was awesome.  It was a plexiglass LED-lite floor made of 8X8 squares that elevated 8 feet up and down allowing actors to rise from underneath the stage onto the stage in these see-through boxes.  It was such a strange show, something out of the mind of David Lynch.  I loved it.  I couldn't understand a damn word, but I loved it.  I got the main idea.  It was awesome just to be in that theatre.  And the best part of the whole thing was that my ticket, again just to reiterate, cost 4 bucks.

Day 34: Burg Burg Burg

After a long day of contemplating hundreds of pieces of art, I decided I needed some good music and some beer.  I went to a jazz club that promised live jazz every night.  Well, every night except this night I guess.  I sat down and I wasn't really feeling the atmosphere, but I was there and had walked a loooooong time to get there so I was having a drink.  I watched a girl go in and out of the bar again and again to smoke a cigarette.  Eventually she ran out of cigs.  The bars here sell cigarettes so she asked the bartender to sell her a pack.  She asked him for the expiration dates and was unsatistied with the answers and refused to buy a pack at the bar.  This annoyed me.  The expiration date, really?  As if she wasn't going to smoke the entire pack that night anyway.  I watched her smoke 5 cigarettes over the span of an hour.  Stop it with the expiration dates.   

Next I went to a bar near my hostel.  I went to go to the bathroom and a drunk guy stopped me and started speaking Russian to me.  I told him I don't understand and that I speak English.  I said this in Russian.  He didn't understand apparently because he kept talking to me in Russian.  I said it in English.  The point still did not get across.  He asked me to dance with him to this awful house music that was blasting to an almost empty room.  I said ok, but can I please use the bathroom now?  I went to the bathroom and I could feel it in my bones, he was waiting for me outside the door.

Out I went and, as I accurately predicted, there he was.  We "danced."  The only other person in the dance room was his friend who, in between bouts of break-dancing, managed to slap my ass and slap it hard.  I yelled.  Loudly.  The first guy apologized.  After a few minutes I was over the entire encounter so I got ready to leave.  The guy followed me.  Outside.  He had no coat on and none of his things.  It was cold.  He kept talking to me and talking to me and I kept telling him I don't understand and I'm going home now and blah blah blah.  He wouldn't back down.  I wasn't afraid, but it was a little annoying.  Anyway, a girl walking down the street saw us and asked me in English, "Do you need help?"  "Yes," I said.  She sent the guy away and then told me I should learn Russian.  He was asking me where I'm from and telling me I'm beautiful.  Now normally, I'd take that as a compliment but let me tell you, that guy must have been really really really drunk because I have not washed my hair in days, I have no makeup on, and I'm wearing the frumpiest clothes imaginable.  Be serious.

So I got to my hostel and was ready to sleep, the lights were out and it was about 1am.  And that's when I heard a tap on the side of my bed.  I don't know why, but the newest member of the hostel room decided he needed to speak to me, and now.  He sat down on the edge of my bed and just started talking and talking.  And then he told me he couldn't speak English, but then he talked more.  And then he gave me money from Belarus.  Why?  No clue, I don't ask questions anymore.  

Day 33: The Cat Convention

Today I had no coat.  Because yesterday it got puked on.  Luckily it wasn't so cold.  But I didn't want to travel too far in case it suddenly got really cold or started to snow.  Both of those things did happen.

I went to this place called "The Loft Project."  It's filled with art and artsy shops and vegan food.  St. Petersburg is the Portland of Russia I've concluded.  While I was there, there were people lined up at the fourth floor buying tickets to enter somewhere.  I saw a sign that said 100 Rubles which is about $1.50 so I figured I'd go in and see what all the fuss was about despite having no idea what I was buying a ticket to.

Turn out, it was a cat convention.  A convention for cats.  People spent money, unfortunately myself included, to walk around and stare at various cats in cages.  Cats.  The kind you can see on the street.  Let me reiterate: money, to see cats.  There was a lady with a microphone talking about the cats to a crowd of intrigued men, women, and children.  Very randomly as well, there were some raccoons in cages.  It was the strangest thing, ever.  I paid money to see cats.  Oh by he way, I HATE CATS.  Now, I understand, cats have a special significance in Russia's historical culture, but really?  A cat convention?  CATS.  I'm definitely in the Portland of Russia.

Day 32: Petersburg Pub Crawl

This morning, I decided to go to the museum of anomalies.  This is Russia's first museum, and its curator was none other than Peter the Great.  Good ole' Pete wanted to collect the bodies, fetuses, and remains of human and animal deformities and abnormalities in order to educate his people.  He wanted to diffuse the fear associated with such things. I'm not convinced this is the way things turned out.  This museum had the potential to be in line with The Mutter Museum in Philly.  Buuuttt, it was just alright.  It was just one room of deformed dead babies stuffed into jars filled with formaldehyde.  Not enough to impress me!

I headed on to the Peter Fortress which was pretty cool.  I found these high school kids sliding down the wooden observation desk because it had iced over.  I followed suit.  Probably not my best idea and I was wet for the rest of the cold cold damp day.

I ended at the Museum of Political History.  This museum was awesome.  However, it was incredibly confusing to navigate.  It seemed everywhere I went I was going backward.  And why?  I kept trying and trying to reorient myself to no avail.  So I just walked backwards through time.  I'm a little confused about Russia's political history.

Tonight, I decided to go on a pub crawl.  What a decision.  I met an Australian couple and a bunch of cute fun Russian people.  I decided to make myself the star of this pub crawl and I got plastered at the first bar.  They kept giving out free shots.  It wouldn't stop.  I was concerned people wouldn't drink them and they would be wasted, the shots instead of the people I mean.  I took this problem head on and headed to the second bar ten shots in.

The next bar had us drink shots with no hands.  Done.  And then I chugged a beer.  We went to the next bar where body shots were involved.  My friend Agus helped me with this one.  Then I found out that Angus hates gay people and we almost got into a fight.  My Aussie friend Travis held me back.

Finally we got to the club.  Another Coyote Ugly.  My Aussie friends were sick and they were asking me to help them home.  Like I was the grand expert of St. Petersburg.  Of course I helped them.  The girl, Flur, threw up on my coat.  And my new Russian friend Philippe walked me home.  I was plastered.  I got back to my hostel and runkenly (and likely very loudly) asked the hostel guy to wash my coat.  He said "Of course!  Anything can happen in St. Petersburg!"  And then I cooked all of the pasta in the world.  So much pasta.  Literally so much pasta.  And I ate it on my bed.  At one point I lost my fork and was trying to explain this to a guy in my room that I lost my fork and he couldn't figure it out.  I didn't end up finding it.  I am starting to think I need someone to keep me on a lease.

Day 31: St. Petersburg

Today, despite barely sleeping the night before, I decided to take on The Hermitage.  The Hermitage is the largest thing I have ever seen or been in in my entire life.  Did I mention the New Hermitage, the Old Hermitage and The Winter Castle are connected as well?  I was there for 5 hours and I barely scratched the surface.  It's so intimidating.  It's also gorgeous.  More so than the art museum in Moscow, I was literally high speed walking through this one, just to pass through rooms.  So many floors, so many rooms, so much art.  It was the definition of over-whelming.  You could genuinely spend an entire week in that place.

Day 30: Moscow to St. Petersburg

Today I rode the rails.  Moscow's underground itself is a museum, a work of art.  Such beautiful interiors and all unique.  However, as beautiful as it is, it's not for me.  So I left and walked around and eventually, got a drink.  

I took the train tonight from Moscow to St. Petersburg. I was not thinking when I booked my ticket.  I thought to myself, it's cheap and it's overnight so I don't have to pay for a hostel.  What I didn't consider was the fact that, unlike most of my journey, this trip was just seats, no beds.  So I "slept" in my chair overnight on the train.  It was pretty miserable.

Day 29: Moscow Again

Today I had to change my hostel because it was sold out.  So I booked a cheap hostel on Hostelworld.  I arrived and it turned out that the price listed on Hostelworld was not at all accurate.  There was a misunderstanding and an Egyptian man came to talk to me and help me.  He was very kind and also overly concerned about me.  The problem resolved but I felt bad about my attitude and how I might have treated the hostel lady who was very nice, patient, and kind about the whole thing.  I bought her gingerbread as an apology gift.

After the armory I decided I really just wanted to chill and drink some beer.  On Old Arbat Street I found this fun craft beer shop, but after I felt I had overstayed my welcome, I moved on.  I couldn't find any other cool bars, and I was approaching the end of my options.  One opinion remained, Coyote Ugly.  I figured, it can't be like the Coyote Ugly I'm thinking of.  It was.  The girl at the bar kept talking to me, but I'm pretty sure it was just for the purpose of getting a drink out of me each time.  However, she introduced the owner of the bar to me, a Ukrainian guy.

We talked a lot, though, I was drunk so I'm not really sure what about.  Of course we talked about politics.  The last thing I remember was that Buddhism and China got involved and I must have looked a little dazed because he said he had to get back to work.  Eh, he wasn't that attractive anyway.

Day 28: Moscow Part 2

I went to the art museum today, giving myself three hours to do so.  Woah.  Russian people know art.  They know all the art.  I was in there almost 4 hours and I didn't finish.  I was tired but also I can't stand old baizantine chapel religious art which is what the bottom ten rooms were dedicated to, so I finally booked it.  I saw some great art though, a great museum.  Mostly I just spent my time running through the museum, a light jog if you will, to just try and get through it.  Man, all the art.

And thennnn I went to the Soviet Arcade Machine museum.  That was so cool.  I got to play all of the old arcade machines from the Soviet Era.  So fun and at times very hilarious.  One of the games was attacking tanks with other tanks...very stereotypical stuff in there.  The ultimate idea of soviet retro, yeah it's a thing.  Eerie and fun.  There was also a rooster that kids could ride and the translation in English was: "Kiddies Ride Cock."  I've always said English needs to be checked with a native speaker, and I'll say it once again.

Then this evening I met my French girlfriends for delicious Georgian food.  They told me all about their dorm life and their encounters with all of the different types of people who live here.  Including the fact that none of the rooms in the dorm have consistent furniture.  Some of them have a table, some of them have a desk, some of them have chairs.  If you have a table AND chairs you have hit the gold mine.  Anyways, they were so sweet.

Day 27: Moscow

Went for a walk with the Aussie this morning before he had to leave to St. Petersburg.  I keep meeting people and we're always just missing each other.  It was nice to have a friend while it lasted.

I went to the Kremlin and was appalled by the prices so I decided to just skip it and go to the park and go ice skating.  I arrived at the park and lo and behold the rink was closed.  I asked a couple walking by to confirm.  Is it closed?  Yes they said but there is another park with ice skating.  I can get there by subway or take a taxi.  Or, they added, I can share a taxi with them.  That I did.  They were so nice.  The guy is a police officer and he asked me my opinion of Putin.  Then I asked him his opinion of Putin and he said he couldn't tell me because he works for the government, he's a detective.  That's damn shady.  It was a trap!

At the end of the ride I offered them money but the guy said "No, thank you!  It's your present!"

I skated, it was evening at this point, and it was so nice.  I walked into the rink to hear the Dire Straits blasting over the sound system and I knew it was gonna be a good time.  So peaceful to skate.

Day 26: Suzdal to Moscow

If I had to choose one word to describe Russia it would be: slippery.  The past three weeks I have been walking around on nothing but thick black sheets of ice.  On top of it all I'm a huge klutz so everywhere I go, I go slowly and carefully.  

Today, I went sledding.  Not down snow, down ice.  All the cool kids were doing it.  I bought myself a little plastic sled for a dollar and went to the ice hill that people were sledding down.  There were two boys who dared ride their bikes down this icy mountain of terror.  It wasn't graceful.

I lent my sled to three young girls whose own sled was too intimidating for the journey.  They kept thanking me.  A poor stray dog made the mistake of walking/sliding/falling down the hill.  He slid.  A lot.  He could barely make it back up.  Basically, the sledding became a series of all of us helping each other back up the hill.  It was so slippery.

I decided after that that I'm just going to sled to everywhere I need to go.  It's much easier than walking.  If there is even the slightest decline in my path, I'm just gonna sled.  Why not?  It'll be hilarious.  And fun.  It's happening.

I arrived in Moscow and the second I got to my hostel I met an Aussie.  He suggested we take a walk.  What an interesting guy.  He has been traveling almost a year.  All over South American, Europe, even Syria.  He interviewed a refugee, illegally, in the back of a van.  It's an incredible story, and now he's looking for a news source to publish his video.  His story really needs coverage.  I think this world is very desperate for some true journalism.

We went to St. Basil's Cathedral.  It was around 1am, so it was closed.  After a lot of begging, I convinced my friend that we should enter the gates anyhow, not thinking much of it.  All of the sudden we hear a big booming voice over a loud speaker and a car with flashing lights is driving towards us.  The Russian police.  Perhaps, the KGB.  (That's me being dramatic).  They were yelling things in Russian which I assume meant some variation of "get the heck out."  Oops.  I'm that traveler now, the one that breaks and enters and gets in trouble with the po-lice.  It's out of my system now?

Day 26: Vladimir to Suzdal

It is so refreshing to be in Suzdal from Vladimir.  I love this adorable and beautiful little town.  It's so pretty.  I loved Kazan but this town hands down wins the 'my favorite place' award. It reminds me of a small New England town.  There are cobblestones and horse drawn carriages, little outdoor markets and cutsie shops.  There are kids sledding down and icy hill of terror.  There are kids riding their bikes down the icy hill of terror.  All of the old churches are gorgeous.  It's just gorgeous.  I lovvveeee this town.

I started the day on a little walking tour following my map that my hostel man gave me.  Adorrrrable hostel, btw.  On the path I had to cross the river to get to the monestary.  The path was closed.  The alternative path was a very slippery hill.  No way I was walking.  I sat, and slid down that hill like a champ.  

Later on, I wanted to climb the clock tower to get a good view of the city.  I happened to arrive at a perfect time because a group of people were getting let into the tower when normally, it's locked.  I think the guy letting us in asked me if I was part of the tour group.  I just shrugged my shoulders and smiled and he let me in.  Alas my glorious charm saves me again.  I climbed to the very top, and I couldn't help myself, I rang the bell.  Then, a Russian girl kind of scolded me.  I smiled and apologized.  And then the guy behind me climbed up and rang all the bells.  All the bells.  Oh did she yell at him. 

Side note:  I don't know what is going on but I keep a) getting into places I shouldn't be because no one is checking and b) entering places in what very very much seems like the big grand obvious entrance only to find I have entered in the most completely backward way.  Examples to follow in future posts.

Then, I lost my map to the wind.  Anyway I was so exhausted, so I came back to my hostel early, vowing to get sleep and to go out tomorrow.  I bought a sled for the icy hill of terror and what I thought was mead.  I took a swig, not mead.  Syrup?  I'm telling you, when you think you're going to drink something beer-like, a mouthful of syrup is an awful experience.

Tonight I met these very sweet French girls.  They are studying in Moscow.  I swear not 10 minutes into the conversation they invited me to have dinner with them in Moscow on Wednesday.  And we think the French are not friendly.  Ha.

Drinking Culture and Mead

Yesterday, I bought a bottle of mead that's indigenous to the local area I'm in.  It's a type of honey-wine.  A shout out to Alex Shields here.  I brought it back to my hostel, drank what I could, and had to toss the rest.

Today, I found outdoor markets selling the same kind of mead.  I found a smaller bottle of it and brought it back to my hostel that evening.

I cracked open the bottle, and was curled up with some TV ready to go.  I took a big swig of the stuff AAAANNDDDD syrup.  It was syrup.  Not delicious honey wine.

Now let me tell you.  Imagine you're really thirsty and you grab a glass of water and take a gulp.  To your horror, you find it's not water, it's vodka.  This was like that.

After I begrudgingly swallowed all the syrup, I took the bottle to the hostel man.  I asked him, "This is syrup, right?"  He affirmed my suspicions and then told me about a place I could go in town to have a tasting of all the different kinds of honey wine.

There I went.  For 5 bucks they give you 10 half-filled glasses of different wines to try.  I was the first one in the tasting room but was soon joined by a group of women who were also doing the tasting.

I was at my third glass, I had seven to go, and I realized I was drunk.  Meanwhile!  Meanwhile, the group of women that came in after me had finished all their wines and were headed out the door.  How.  How? RUSSIAN WOMEN. Let me tell you, by the time I was done with the tasting of what must have been equivalent to 5 glasses of wine, I WAS WASTED.  How did these women do it?  Hot. Damn.

This leads me into a segment about Russia's drinking culture. For those who don't know, Russia holds the record for the country with the 2nd highest alcohol consumption (mainly vodka) per capita.  By the way, which country is number 1?  Korea.

While Korea's drinking culture is very VERY obvious, Russia's, to my surprise, is not.

Before I came here, I had the impression that getting on the train was going to be a giant party and we'd all be passing around the vodka.  Now, people DO drink on the train.  But they do it in secret.  There is even a secret hand gesture for it.  Turns out, it's illegal.

I really expected to see a lot of partying and craziness go on, considering how much they are presumed to drink.  But the Russian drinking scene must be more subtle than I assumed it was going to be, especially having lived in Korea for so long.

That being said, it's not like I haven't seen people drinking.  I went to get tea at a cafe at 8am on a Wednesday last week and there was a man who walked in and got a shot of vodka and a beer.  8am.  Wednesday.

A few days ago, again very early-maybe 9am, I was at the train station waiting for my train when I passed a man who had just finished downing his second beer.  So...it is there.  Just not quite in the way I thought.

A week or so ago I found myself in a freezing cold town with nothing open.  Museums are closed on Monday's, planning fail on my end.  After much avail and freezing fingertips I decided, eh, I'll have a drink.  Why not.  It was around noon.  I was honestly shocked to find a bar, but I did and I was not the only one in there.

I met a guy here who teaches English.  He told me a lot of the bars here never even close, they are 24 hours.  Who's drinking a beer at 6am?  Not my business I guess.

THAT being said, drinking is frowned upon, or downright not allowed in a majority of the hostels I've stayed in.  It's baffling.  I feel like Russia's drinking culture is this quiet, underground subculture, and I want to learn more about it.

Day 24: Nizhny Novgorod to Vladimir

This morning I boarded the train to Vladimir.  "O'le Vladdy" as I like to call it.  As I went to put my bag down underneath this huge pile of bags I heard a voice say "you can put your bag on top."  "English?  How did he know I don't know Russian?" I thought to myself.

Turns out, they are a couple from South Africa traveling across the railway like I did.  In fact, we had the same guide book.  We compared notes.  They had a LOT to say about Trump.  And Putin.  And the South African government.  They are both pilots and they love to travel.    The wife is a meticulous planner and the husband hates having a plan, he says if everything is planned and you have a perfect trip, then you don't have any fun stories and no one wants to hear about how nice the plane ride was.  Touché man, I love it.  They do long camping trips in Africa every other year and they convinced me that South Africa is so beautiful, I must visit there next.  They were so great.

Once I arrived in Vladimir, I found my shady hostel.  It actually seemed nice at first.  The front desk woman was very friendly.  Too friendly in my opinion.  It was eerie.  Long story short, as I don't want to post too much about this on my blog, I'm pretty sure the "hostel" was actually a brothel.  I'm damn well sure actually.  It was awful.  Awful.