August 3, 2020
Upon stepping off the train and looking at my surroundings, I almost felt as if something was amiss, as the city I had arrived in looked more like some European city outside of Russia, or like an alternate Russia from a parallel universe. The architecture immediately struck me as atypical for this country, and memories of my day trip to Helsinki, Finland almost two years ago returned. But this is Russia indeed, and it was this feeling that something in Primorsky Krai was significantly different from the rest of the country which pervaded throughout my time here, a time spent immersed in the history, culture, and nature of this incredible region.
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| A cable-stay bridge in Vladivostok |
From the train station at Vladivostok, which has other stations for boats and buses, I figured out where my hostel was on the map and called a taxi there. Early in the morning, I checked in to my hole-in-the-wall hostel, greeted by a couple of tired and possibly stoned receptionists. I needed to get more sleep, and when I woke up I decided to explore the city. By that time the weather had changed from fog to sunshine; this seems to be a common occurrence. The weather changes quickly and dramatically, but is known for being rainy and windy. I called a taxi to the funicular, which for those who do not know is a sort of gondola on tracks which takes you up a steep hill or mountain. It was apparently built at the start of the twentieth century and was a common way for people to get up and down the hill, but today it is basically a tourist attraction. I rode it up the hill, and from there walked a bit more to make it to one of the city's main sights- the Eagle's Nest, a peak high on a hill giving a grandiose view of much of the city, including Vladivostok's humungous cable-stay bridges and Golden Horn Bay. My first day in Vladivostok was mostly spent strolling around, looking at the city and simply wandering. I admired the diverse architecture of the city, the result of many different people settling in Vladivostok. This has made Vladivostok, in my opinion, much more visually appealing than other cities in Russia.
It was the middle of the day, but I was just getting started. I had no clue how long I would be in Vladivostok, and no idea that by the end of my stay there, I wouldn't want to leave Primorsky Krai. This aspect of freedom, that I had no place to be, no schedule to abide by, and that I could spend as much or as little time here as I pleased, was liberating. I was in no need to rush, had no checklist of things I must do or see within a certain time frame (aside from eat Kamchatka crab); all I knew was that I needed to ration my time so as go to the next city, and the next one, and inevitably be back in Moscow by August 31st. Yet, as I walked through the streets of Vladivostok, a thought recurred in my mind, that I was on the coast of the Pacific Ocean, a big puddle on our small rock which should be viewed from as close as possible.From the funicular I descended to the lower part of the city towards the down town area. Shops here are atypical for Russia, boasting many different Asian imports from China and Japan, such as a variety of snacks and beer. The restaurant scene here is phenomenal, with an incredibly diverse array of choices; Russian, Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Thai, Italian, Georgian; the list goes on. The seafood is top notch, with everything on the menu- fish, caviar, scallops, oysters, mussels, you name it- but the gem of Far Eastern cuisine is by far the prized Kamchatka crab.
At the city beach, there is a lovely fountain and a great view of the bay. While strolling around and familiarizing myself with the central part of the city, I found an interesting museum- the Museum of the Far East. Going there would be my main focus the following day.
There, I learned about the history of Primorsky Krai and Vladivostok. The region was originally inhabited by Tungusic people such as the Udege who led a traditional lifestyle supplemented by hunting and fishing. Different tribes led different lifestyles; some lived near small streams and fished, while others lived near rivers and hunted game that would go to drink near the river. Primorsky Krai came under the rule of the Bohai Kingdom which rose to power in the 700s and fell around 925. The history of the Bohai Kingdom is not without its controversies; the Koreans claim it was a part of Korean history, the Chinese that it is is a part of Chinese history, and the Russians that the Bohai were a multiethnic kingdom formed independently by Tungusic peoples such as the Mohe, whose ancestors are called Jurchens. The Jurchens were ethnically separate from their Chinese and Korean neighbors. They are important because they were the founders of the Jin and Qing 'conquest' dynasties, dynasties of non-Han people which ruled mainland China. Korean and Chinese scholars claim that the Bohai were an extension of their own contemporaneous empires, but these claims were perhaps made to justify territorial expansion. The Russian claim, however, was made largely upon the idea that the people of Primorsky Krai were always independent from China and Korea, and therefore that Russia has as much of a claim of the land as anyone. Because the Jurchens invaded and controlled China, one could say that perhaps the Bohai Empire, the Jurchens, and the Manchurians are not a part of Chinese history, but that China is a part of Bohai, Jurchen, and Manchurian history. The demarcation of an old empire's territory does not translate into modern territorial claims. If it does, then almost all of Asia, the Middle East and Eastern Europe belong to the Mongols.
The Bohai Empire eventually fell, torn apart by ethnic conflict and invaded by the Khitans, another ethnic group which had risen as a major power from Inner Mongolia. Thereafter the region came under the control of the Mongols and then the Manchus, whose ancestors were in fact the Jurchens. As the Russian Empire expanded and the Cossacks penetrated deep into Siberia, they eventually came into contact with the Manchurian Qing Empire. Conflicts arose and the Russians ended up ceding much of their territory north of the Amur River to the Qing Empire, and this was of course put on paper with the Treaty of Nerchinsk in 1689. In the mid-1800s China was embroiled in the Taiping Rebellion and Opium Wars; the Russian Empire, seeking a suitable Pacific Ocean port, threatened to invade, and to avoid this conflict the Chinese ceded much of what is today Khabarovsk Krai and Primorsky Krai to the Russian Empire with the Treaty of Aigun in 1858, made possible by the famous Russian general and statesman Nikolay Muravyov-Amursky. To this day, the Chinese are resentful that they lost this territory, although they never had a firm grasp on it, nor was it populated by Han Chinese; it was called 'Outer Manchuria' in an attempt to legitimize Chinese authority.
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| Monument to Nikolay Muravyov-Amursky |
The Russian Empire subsequently expanded further, building cities like Khabarovsk and Blagoveshchensk along the Amur River, which formed the new border between Russia and China. Vladivostok, whose name translates to something like 'Ruler of the East' was founded in 1860 and the first settler, a trader, moved there in 1861, purchased land in 1862, and by the end of the decade had become head of the local government. The region was sparsely populated by indigenous people when the Russians arrived, and the Chinese claim that it was originally their city even though the Russians built it, since a few Chinese fishermen had been seasonally collecting sea cucumbers along the coast for some time. In fact, the Manchus had banned Han Chinese from entering the Manchurian heartland, so there were never any Chinese settlements at all, only a few illegal fishing shacks. Much would change within the next few decades as the Russian Empire encouraged immigration to the region. Not only did the city flourish and develop with the arrival of Russians, but also with the arrival of people from all over Europe, China, Korea, and even America. Throughout different periods of history, this unique mix of people has lead, as I previously mentioned, to Vladivostok having some incredibly diverse architectural styles, from Russian Baroque to German Gothic, Soviet to modern, Asian to Romanesque.
One of the most surprising parts of the museum was a whole room dedicated to a woman named Eleanor Prey who immigrated to Vladivostok in 1894 from South Berwick, Maine. She is largely responsible for documenting what life was like in Vladivostok between 1894 and 1930, as during this time she wrote over 16,000 pages of letters to friends around the world which were later collected and compiled into a book, 'Letters from Vladivostok". She worked as an accountant in Vladivostok and lived through many tumultuous times in Russian history and the history of the Far East, including the Russo-Japanese War, World War One, the Russian Revolution, and the Russian Civil War. Despite all of these events she stayed in Russia until 1930, when she was out of work and moved back to the USA. I talked to the women whose job it is to observe each room and told them that I was from Maine, and they were both surprised and delighted.
Let's continue the topic of history- but if you would like to skip ahead, then skip the next 6 paragraphs. Here I will discuss not only the history of Vladivostok, but of Russia during the first quarter of the twenty-first century. Right at the turn of the century there was the Boxer Rebellion, an anti-foreign uprising in China that saw soldiers from many nations, including the Russian Empire, join forces to crush the rebellion- more on that in another post. Not long after that was the The Russo-Japanese War of 1905, which shocked the world when an Asian empire was victorious over a European one, humiliating the Tsar and the Russian Empire. Japan had offered to acknowledge Russia as having a sphere of influence over Manchuria in return for Russia recognizing Japan as having a sphere of influence in Korea, but the Russians refused. Tsar Nicholas II thought it would be an easy victory, but failed to take into account how far away the conflict was for the Russians and how close it was for the Japanese. The Japanese launched a surprise attack and destroyed the Russian Eastern Fleet, so the Russians had to send their western Baltic Fleet halfway around the world, only to be destroyed in a naval battle. In truth, it was a terrible war for both sides- both had high casualties, and the battles were highly disorganized with both sides making many blunders. This war saw the extensive use of a lot of new military technology, like better machine guns, fast-loading artillery, and barbed wire. Many lessons would not be learned by observers of this war, and instead this new kind of slaughter would be repeated nine years later, but at a much more devastating scale. It also emboldened Asian countries as it was the first time in recent history that an Asian nation had defeated a European one, and many saw it as a victory of the east over the west.
The Tsar's failure made him unpopular and lead to the 1905 Russian Revolution, a time of political upheaval which was suppressed and set the stage for the 1917 Russian Revolution, which drew Russia out of World War One. This occurred when the German government, which was hosting Vladimir Lenin and his entourage in Switzerland, financed him to go St. Petersburg in secret and start a revolution with the help of a small group of communist revolutionaries. His group had in fact been planning for the right moment since as early as 1901, organizing themselves and acquiring much needed funding through such activities as robbing banks; this was, in fact, carried out by none other than Joseph Stalin, who was then nothing more than a thug. Russia had had some glorious victories during World War One but overall wasn't doing too well, and the Tsar was suddenly under enormous pressure, as many, from social democrats to hardline communists, were eager for a power change. The Tsar abdicated after the February Revolution, lead mostly by common people who were rioting for bread, and relinquished his power, and to rule in his stead, the Russian Provisional Government was created. The communists were in fact divided into two parts, the Bolsheviks and Mensheviks, literally 'the majority' and 'the minority' despite the fact the the Mensheviks had more followers. There were other political factions such as the Socialist Revolutionaries, who espoused socialist ideas and democracy, and were widely popular among the Russian peasantry. During the Russian Constituent Assembly, all political parties, including the Bolsheviks and the Social Revolutionaries, convened in the Tauride Palace in St. Petersburg to vote for their party leaders and on certain laws they hoped to see passed. It was a very convoluted event and the first 'free' election in Russian history. Vladimir Lenin's Bolshevik party received a majority of votes from the urban areas, where 'Soviets' or organized groups of workers seeking more autonomy had formed. Victor Chernov of the Socialist Revolutionaries, on the other hand, had received a majority of votes from the rural areas, and had an overall majority. It was a long, drawn out process, and many things had not been decided, but it was clear that the Bolsheviks were not going to see a Soviet government happen democratically. So they hatched a plan, and on January 6th, 1918, as the members of the assembly were gathering, they discovered that the doors of the palace were locked, and Bolshevik soldiers were guarding it. The Bolsheviks declared the Russian Constituent Assembly to be dissolved. While there is much to be said of how important this assembly actually was, its dissolution was in effect a hijacking of the democratic process. The Bolshevik Party then declared all other parties to be illegal, and for all who opposed the Bolshevik Party to be arrested by the newly formed Cheka- the first secret police of the new regime. Not long after that, the Tsar and his family were executed in a basement in Yekaterinburg, shot to death by Bolshevik assassins, ending the 300-year rule of the Romanovs. The proletariat had taken the bait, and over the next 35 years, many would pay with their lives during the most brutal period of Soviet authority, during a regime whose ruthlessness, corruption, and disdain for human life far outweighed the system it had replaced.
After the fall of the monarchy and the rise of the Bolsheviks, the Russian Civil War broke out and the country was divided between the Bolsheviks and their 'Red Army' and a loose confederation of anti-communists which included monarchists, nationalists, social-democrats, and many others, which came to be known as the 'White Army'. There were other groups as well, such as the lesser known 'Green Army,' a coalition of peasants who fought against both the reds and the whites; they were eventually destroyed during the Tambov Rebellion, during which the Bolsheviks used poison gas to kill massive amounts of peasants, and those who didn't die were interned in concentration camps.
The Cossacks were perhaps the vanguard of the White Army, but it was the legendary Czechoslovakian legion which effectively checked the Red Army along the entirety of the Trans-Siberian railway. The Red Army had their own foreign soldiers, including tens of thousands of Chinese and Latvians. The Czechoslovakian legion was originally formed under the Russian Empire to help fight the Germans, but when the Bolsheviks came to power, they were trying to make their way to Vladivostok to sail back to Western Europe to continue the fight on the side of the Entente, as the Bolsheviks were trying to sue for peace; Germany's plan was working. Along their eastward move, Leon Trotsky, then head of the Red Army, ordered them all to be disarmed during a travel dispute, and they rose up and steamrolled the Red Army in Siberia, capturing every major Siberian city. The Entente decided to form a multinational army to help assist and evacuate them, but by the time the American, British, French and Japanese forces arrived in Vladivostok in 1920, the Czechs were already there, victorious. Their fighting spirit, supported by their desire to have their own independent nation, spurred them on to be one of the most effective anti-Bolshevik forces, and they found common ground with the White Russians in Siberia, fighting for the Russian nation. The soldiers of the Czechoslovakian Legion later relocated to France and continued to fight in World War One; they are worthy of veneration for their great deeds and military prowess.
Has the human condition changed since then? Were people tougher then, and have we become weaker since? It is hard to imagine what it must have been like to live during these times of technological improvement and political upheaval. Yet I find it more difficult to imagine what might drive a man to lay down his life, to charge towards certain death by running towards a wall of machinegun fire, and to die for his country and unquestionably follow the order of the Tsar or the King or the Kaiser. We have changed, certainly; perhaps the reality of our own mortality is scarier for us now, as we have grown accustom to peace and comfort. The flame of nationalism used to burn brightly in the hearts of men, too brightly at times; now its seems that many have forgotten that it was ever there.
The city of Vladivostok did not see any hostile activity during World War Two, but played a pivotal role in receiving shipments from the Allies during the lend-lease program, in which the Soviet Union received much needed supplies from the USA such as military equipment and provisions. During the 1950s Vladivostok became a closed city. The city grew as did the main industries, which were shipping and fishing. It is also the location of the Russian Navy's Pacific Fleet, and has always been a headquarters of Russian naval power- that was, after all, the reason the Russian Empire wanted the territory of Primorsky Krai in the first place.
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| A view of the city |
Today Vladivostok is a very modern Russian city. In many ways, it doesn't even seem like a Russian city; the buildings are too nice, the streets too well-kept, a far cry from some of Russia's forgotten medium-sized cities. I sometimes wonder why certain cities in Russia seem to be doing well while others don't, yet there is much beyond my knowledge and certainly many factors at play. Yet, it seems as if the people living on Russia's far eastern edge are more independent than Moscow's neighbors, as they know they are so far away from the political humdrum, their voices unlikely to be heard, their impact little in the grand scheme of things. They can only depend upon themselves, and this can perhaps be said about Siberia as a whole.
Leaving the museum, I began to wander again, and ended up once again at the city beach. Even though I had no towel, I decided to go for a swim, which was very relaxing. I must say there is something special about the Pacific Ocean, yet this was only a taste of it. At some point I changed my hostel, as the location wasn't bad but wasn't the best; mostly I was just getting annoyed by the perpetually stoned receptionists who reacted to my every question with a look of confusion and paranoia on their faces. The new hostel was a bit closer to the city center, and was decorated on the inside in the style of a Russian izbushka or traditional village home, complete with wooden tables and chairs, a samovar, and a large wooden bear. It was very pleasant, and the receptionists were two charming, sober ladies. I settled in nicely, and in the evening had some Korean food- something I haven't had the opportunity to try much before. Spicy and so delicious!
The following day was expected to be lazier than the previous ones. I was getting closer to finding some potential excursions, but to where, I was not sure. I ate some Khachapuri at a Georgian restaurant- something like baked dough usually with egg inside, but this one was more like a pizza with meat, kind of like Dagestani chudu. Completely stuffed, I proceeded to the main task of the day, to go to the Vladivostok fortress, now a museum. Building began in 1889 and expansion continued until 1918, and it was one of the strongest fortresses of its time. It is essentially a coastal battery that is stretched out along the coastline in such a way that enemy ships would be within range or kept at bay no matter how they approached. The museum, located inside a stretch of the the fortress, contains everything you can expect from a Russian military museum; Mosin-Nagant rifles from multiple wars, captured enemy weapons, Soviet heavy machine guns and every day items and belongings of the average soldier. The outside is equally grandiose in its gratuitous display of military might, including tanks, artillery pieces, torpedoes and anti-aircraft guns.
Finished at the museum, I strolled around the city and went by the beach where one can observe people diving off a man-made island platform of sorts a short swim from the beach; I later returned to this spot in the evening to do some diving of my own. I don't think of the Russians as the most nautical people, although they did travel across Siberia, much of which was done by Cossacks heaving small river boats over land and then navigating the rivers. Historically, Russia was always searching for a warm water port that would give them access to the world's oceans. They got one on the Black Sea, but it is so far from everything, and their Northern ports in Murmansk and Archangelsk are frozen half the time. So it was nice to see Russians enjoying the sea, and I suppose the people of Primorsky Krai love the sea as much as people from the coast of New England, as their lives are tied to it.
I may have touched on this before, but it seems that traveling for an extended period of time opens up new doors, reveals unexpected connections which frequently seem to be a coincidence. I had one of these moments in Vladivostok, as I realized that I knew someone here- Anton, the officer with whom I drank samogon in Dagestan. I had kept his number in my phone, and I gave him a call. Someone picked up the phone, but said nothing. I said "Anton, it's James, the American tourist you met in Dagestan" to which a voice replied "Hello James." I asked him what he was up to, and if he knew of any good tour companies. He said he was busy, but he gave me the number of a company, as well as the number of someone he knew, also from Moscow, who was currently on vacation in Primorsky Krai. Her name was Anya. I didn't really think much of it, but I figured I should look into the tour company and perhaps reach out to this woman, as I thought we might be able to share information about excursions; by this time, I had already set up an excursion to get a tour of the city, the best part being a boat tour of the harbor. So, I messaged her, telling her that I was given her contact by Anton, and that maybe we could share information about excursions, and waited for a reply. She answered, and told me about an excursion to a maritime protected zone where one can see aquatic animal life such as birds, seals and more. It sounded interesting and I figured, when else am I going to get to see this? I decided I should make my way to the tour company office at some time during the day, and I called them and told them I would be there soon.
During the day I took a bus ride to Russky Island, the southernmost part of Vladivostok. It is mostly a forested, largely uninhabited swath of territory; only around five thousand people live there, but they have their own billion-dollar bridge! Originally built to connect Russky Island with Vladivostok in 2012 to serve the Asia-Pacific Economic Conference happening on the island the same year, it doesn't seem to get a lot of traffic, so if you live on Russky island, I guess it's like having your own personal bridge. There is a university and a monastery on the island. I went there simply to see what it was like, and walked around the forest for a little bit, wearing a poncho because it was raining. In fact, the whole peninsula was experiencing a monsoon, as I later learned. When I was done with my walk, I stood at the bus stop across the street from the one where I got off, and waited. It wasn't long before a car stopped to pick up a student waiting there, and offered to take me as well, to which I happily obliged- I had no idea when the next bus would come. It was like platzkart all over again- we talked non-stop and they quickly learned that I was a foreigner. They were very kind and open people, the antithesis of the stereotypical Muscovite. The driver told me that he sometimes offers people a ride if he sees them waiting; the people in the Far East are truly a different sort, more friendly than their western counterparts. They dropped me off near the tour company, and there I met the manager and learned about the excursion. It would be a two-day, one night trip to Russia's southernmost island and the surrounding territory, right near the border of North Korea. The main attraction would be the Dalny-Vostochny Morskoi Zapovednik, something like 'Far East Maritime Nature Reserve'. The manager wasn't immediately convinced that this excursion was for me, and gave me a small interrogation as to why I wanted to go there. I gave some simple answer like "I wanna see birds and seals and stuff" and she assented. I paid cash, got the contact information of the driver who would pick me up in two day's time, and took a taxi back to my hostel.
At the hostel I met Yarik, a young Russian guy with a certain swagger; every sentence was punctuated at the end by a swear word. He was a student from a city north of Vladivostok called Dalnegorsk ('far in the mountains'). He found out that I was an American tourist, and offered, with his friend who had a car, to show me around the city. I didn't much trust Yarik, but didn't think I was in any danger, so I agreed. The thing was that he was much younger than I, perhaps twenty-one. While waiting for his friend Misha (the one with the car) we had a quick meal at a seafood restaurant where I ate some delicious mussels. Misha showed up not long after, and if I had to take a guess, it would be that Yarik's compatriot from Dalnegorsk was the smarter of the two. We hopped into his 2000 Toyota Corona, a car which I didn't know existed but seemed fitting for the time. Just like in Kamchatka, Japanese cars with the steering column on the right are a big thing here, and Misha's Toyota checked that box. He drove well and was happy to show off the power of a car that was almost as old as him, and frequently referred to it as his pushka (cannon) or gonka (ride), especially when accelerating. We went over the first bridge and stopped at a lit-up theater with a nice view of the central part of the city, and witnessed some racers doing a burnout in a parking lot. Street racing, as one can imagine, is also popular in Vladivostok, as well as souping up one's car in a variety of ways. From there we went to the Eagles Nest where I had gone my first day, but it was very cool to see it in the evening, what with the city lit up completely.
After a quick bite and walk near the city docks, I had them drop me off near the naberezhnaya (boardwalk) near the beach where I met Anya and a couple of her friends, as she had asked if I wanted to meet up; I figured I should see who I was going on the excursion with. The interesting thing was that she spoke English, and at a very high level. We found a nearby Japanese restaurant where we had a beer, spoke about our impressions of the city, and I learned a bit more about what this excursion would be like.
The following day I had a city tour planned, and was picked up at my hostel. The van took us to the southern section of the city, to a hill with a great 360 degree view all around, topped with a crucifix. Apparently the Soviets had wanted to build a massive statue of Lenin at the same spot, but for some reason it never happened, luckily. We then continued to a stretch of beach with a lighthouse at the end, and people were wading out to it at mid-tide. The latter half of the excursion was spent on a boat, with a tour of the bay filled with all sorts of ships- cargo ships, military vessels and reconstructed sailing ships. Vladivostok truly is a nautical city.
That evening, I met up with Yarik and Misha again. This time, we went for a long drive, starting near Russky Island, and crossing that magnificent bridge once more, and then heading northeast along the coast. Misha was a funny guy, upbeat and perpetually low-key dancing to imaginary electronic music playing in his brain even while speaking to you directly. The longer we hung out, the more English he started to speak, until he was forming entire sentences with pretty decent grammar, which surprised me- it would seem that he had paid attention during those English classes which, for Russians in the public school system, seem at times as fruitless as Spanish or French class for Americans. Yarik, on the other hand, could only swear in English. We stopped at a place called Shamara, a place for people to relax at the beach, featuring a long strip with restaurants and shops. Here we swam in the Pacific Ocean, in the dark, with waves so high you can ride them. Russians know how to relax and have fun. I had asked Misha if he would left me drive his car for a bit; I had never driven a car in Russia and hadn't driven for some time, and wanted to see what it was like driving a right-hand steering column vehicle on the right side of the road. He obliged, but asked me to be careful. It was fun, liberating even, to be driving his old, purring Japanese import down the dark and winding road. Something unexpected happened, which was that Anton called me and offered to meet up. So I had Misha drop me off in town, and we said farewell to one another and I wished him luck, as he was heading back to his hometown, Dalnegorsk, the following day; Yarik would continue to live in the hostel, doing what, I did not know or really care. I met Anton and his girlfriend, and just like in Dagestan, he was taciturn and showed little emotion, but showed me some parts of the city (which I had already seen). It was nice to see him, even though he is a man of few words.
I woke up earlier than I normally do, around 5:30, to get dressed and ready to go. The streets were almost completely empty, but shortly after 6:00, a large truck-van hybrid, common in Russia and especially in the Far East, pulled up along the side of the street at the location agreed upon. I climbed in and sat next to Anya, smiling and ready for this excursion just as I was, but probably a little more knowledgeable with regards to what to expect. I knew we were going south, to an island, and on a boat; what the scenery would be like, what we would do along the way, I pretty much hadn't a clue. Driving outside of Vladivostok, our cohort, which consisted of about 7 people, our guide and a driver, soon found itself surrounded by a sea of green fields, with hills and mountains rising in the distance- or from up close. Between these hills we meandered, exchanging positions from high on a hill to low in a valley, the roads all the way becoming more in disrepair as we went along. Here in Primorsky Krai is a different kind of green, a verdancy which starkly contrasts with the farmland of Russia's heartland, the West Siberian plain, or the rugged Buryat steppe. The vibrancy is energizing.
Our tour guide, Oleg, promptly began to talk about the history of the region, and how all of what we were seeing was once the territory of the Bohai. Oleg was clearly a lover of history, and answered any questions we had without a moment's hesitation. He was a large man, perhaps in his mid-50s, and had a well-kept goatee and rugged features, his skin seemingly permanently darkened by a lifetime spent outdoors. By the looks of his camouflage pants, jacket, and hat, one might have mistook him for a truck driver, crab fisherman or retired soldier; yet, his provincial appearance belied his character, as he seemed to breath wisdom and calm. We learned that Oleg was a Cossack, whose ancestors had originally come from Ukraine, and had conquered Siberia and gone as far as Kamchatka. Later in the excursion, I talked with him one-on-one and asked him a bit about his family history, and what I learned was astonishing; his grandparents had fought for the White Army against communism, and during the waning months of that ill-fated but heroic attempt, had been pushed all the way to the Far East as the Red Army gained momentum. He explained how when the revolution happened in St. Petersburg, the citizens of Vladivostok generally had no interest, and thought of it as a far-away, even foreign event that would never reach their doorstep; yet it did. Therefore, it can be said, that many people in the Far East, whose relatives were political prisoners or members of the White Movement, have a different memory of history than that mandated during the days of the Soviet Union. It is ironic, then, that a statue to the Soviet soldiers of the Russian Civil War stands in the central plaza of Vladivostok, as they were seen not as liberators but as oppressive invaders.
The drive to our first destination took several hours, but we stopped a couple of times, once at a pit stop where I got some breakfast, and again along the side of a wide, empty road where we took photos and stretched our legs. There, an elderly lady taking part in the tour named Olga asked me to take some photos of her with her camera, and I quickly learned that this would be a recurring event. After introducing myself and saying that I was from the USA, she replied saying she was from Austria; I later asked Anya about this, who humorously informed me of the truth, saying "She's weird, and that isn't true." Anya told me she had been on a a previous excursion with Olga a few days before, during which their group climbed a high hill and the guide recommended that Olga not ascend, and that they would return in an hour; upon their return, Olga was apparently furious and asked the guide why they had been gone for so long, to which I am sure the whole group wanted to do a face-palm.
Our first destination was a village called Posyet, which had little more than a few Krushchyovkas (1950s Soviet-era flats), a factory, and a nice beach. Populated by less than two thousand people, it is a quiet place, typical of a Russian 'urban-type settlement' in every way except for that fact that it is quite close to the border with China and North Korea. At the industrial docks, coal is unloaded from boats and presumably provides most of the work in town. There is a small port in the bay, just like every other settlement along the coast up to Vladivostok. Here, we waited for a couple speed boats to show up, and it wasn't long before our group piled into the two which showed up to transport us, Anya and I in one and everyone else in another. We embarked from the small bay in Posyet, and all seemed calm on the water. But once we were out on a larger bay, things started to get a little choppy. The boats first rendezvoused along a nearby spit of land, where tents were set up and cars parked, evidently a popular camping area for tourists. A couple men going on the excursion to the island joined us, the waves incessantly thrashing the speedboat as they tried to hop on. Our two boats then set out on the open water, and the waves were quite high, reminding me of a certain nautical adventure with my family on the open ocean some years ago. The low-bowed speed boat was made for just that, speed, and with every wave passed, the following one would breach our vessel, spraying and soaking all in front- which was me.
We were on our way to Furugelm Island, the southernmost island in Russia, and the centerpiece of the Far Eastern maritime nature reserve. Our boat trudged along, never far from the coast. Waves approaching the shore crashed against tall cliffs with caves, which extended into high green hills. In this section of the bay, the weather changed; thick, low-lying clouds, almost like fog, shrouded the hilltops, making their height indiscernible. We stopped at a small, simple outpost inhabited by camouflaged park rangers, to drop off documents. Or maybe it was to pick them up? I'm not quite sure what the deal was, but as our boat sped away, we were called upon to return to the outpost due some error, much to the chagrin of our captain. We then left, and then we returned and went through the process yet again; such disorganization is no longer a surprise to me, and I have learned to go with the bureaucratic flow. At this point a catamaran speedboat pulled up next to our smaller vessel, and we all piled into this more seaworthy boat.
Our new captain then steered a straight course towards Furugelm Island, which required us to go out further into the open ocean, yet the choppiness wasn't so bad, and it was not actually very deep . Along the way, not far from the island, we stopped to watch some seals playing near some rocks jutting slightly out of the water. Here the water was clear enough to see the bottom, and it's easy to let your mind wander and wonder what the underwater world is like.
At last we arrived at Furugelm Island, in the Far Eastern maritime reserve. Reserve doesn't quite do justice to the word in Russian, zapovednik. It comes from another word meaning something along the lines of 'protected from disturbance,' and we were informed that it was prohibited to take any living thing or to leave anything; not a single flower could be picked, not an insect collected, not a paper napkin thrown on the ground. It was refreshing to see such strict rules about protecting nature, and this zapovednik is one of the strictest, generally closed to the public but accessible only by arranging such an excursion.
Furugelm is a magical place, quiet but for the splashing of waves and the laughter of sea birds soaring through the air or nestling comfortably on the grass like cats. The turquoise blue water gives way to green hills, thickly covered with vegetation. The only sign of current human activity are a couple houses for some wardens and caretakers. There are also some more hidden signs of human activity from decades ago.
After having some lunch, our group set off to climb to the top of the island, and to see it from different vantage points. The path was at times steep, and massive spiders with massive webs made for an interesting meeting every few meters. But every turn along the path revealed a new, spectacular view, filling me with a sense of tranquility, as this is a tranquil place, more so than most in the world, perhaps. Anya and I took turns taking photos of each other, and this fair trade would continue for the whole of the excursion. The trail wound through the forested hillside, passing abandoned Soviet bunker-like shelters, until we reached the top, where we found a massive rusting coastal artillery battery, complete with munitions bunkers and a rusting artillery shell casually lying on the ground. This battery was built some time before the Korean War when the Soviet Union still did not trust Japan, but by the 1970s it was evident that the nation of professional car and camera makes across the sea were not going to invade anytime soon, and most coastal batteries fell into disrepair, their crews dissolved.
The trail back took us past some more abandoned Soviet buildings and by a brook, where we were invited to taste the fresh, cool water. Some may be afraid to try water fresh from nature, and in certain places it can, of course, even be deadly. But I have become used to drinking water straight from nature, be it high in the mountains from natural streams or from the world's deepest lake- more on that in another post. I drank up and we continued until we emerged from the forest and found ourselves back near the beach. Someone said the water was cold, but when I submerged myself in the translucent dark-turquoise water, I felt right at home. I swam out far, to the point where I could no longer touch, but felt at ease as I could see all around me. Anya also swam, and surprised me with a 'gift'- a live starfish. I paid back her generosity with a gift of my own, which I had to dive to the bottom to get- a black sea urchin. They were in fact everywhere further out, but stood out on the sandy sea floor. Had they been closer to shore, swimming there might have been a bit more treacherous. Swimming in this bay was a wonderful, relaxing experience which I will never forget.
It wasn't long after that our excursion continued to our next stop. We all hopped back into the boat and headed back towards the mainland, where our captain deftly navigated into a shallow inlet and dropped us off at Falshivy Ostrov, False Island. It is called so because during low tide, the island is connected to the mainland by a sandbar. Here we were greeted by another park ranger and guide of sorts, who proceeded to take our company up another thickly forested hill to the top. Along the way, she told us about the natural history of the island, and about the unique animal and plant life of the area. Just like Furugelm Island, the interior of the island is almost jungle-like, with thick greenery and vines growing up the side of trees, as well large piles of rocks which look like they were hewn by man but were done so naturally.
There, at the top of the island, I took in a breathtaking view of the Sea of Japan, and the waves crashing against the promontory on which we were all standing. From another side, I could see a vast expanse of sea marshes behind the sand bar which connects the island to the mainland, reaching out towards distant hills and disappearing into the fog and mist.
I knew we were close to North Korea, so I asked Oleg if we could see it from here, to which he replied, pointing, "North Korea is right there." This was a unique experience indeed. He explained how escapees rarely go through the Russian border. First of all, it is only eighteen kilometers long, the shortest Russian border with a foreign country, and is guarded; the nearby town of Khasan, after which the territory, Khasansky region, is named, is a small border town of a thousand people. Second, defectors who don't surrender to authorities are inevitably caught and repatriated; a recent law requires all North Korean defectors to be immediately returned, and a North Korean who is returned is most likely a dead one.
After our descent, our guide took us to the sandbar, where we observed sheer rock cliffs almost like a wall, and a large rock pile which is said to be magical as it moves around, shifting with the sand. And everywhere along the beach one thing was quite visible: Chinese and Korean trash of all sorts- plastic bottles, styrofoam, and fishing equipment. It was evident where it came from, as this was within a protected environmental zone, and the plastic bottles were marked with Han characters or Hangul script. The pristine beach of Furugelm Island was nice to see; this, not so much. The wardens told us that every day they go out to pick up as much of it as they can, and the next, day, they start all over.
There was also the hull and only remaining part of a wooden fishing boat, which seems to have been beached against the will of the fishermen crewing it. I wonder where they had come from, and if they cared that they were fishing in forbidden territory; perhaps that is why their boat ended up in such a miserable state. But for every one that is caught, there are many more out there, violating the law and depleting the fish population, because they need money like everyone else.
Our group took a short break after returning from the beach, where we were shown some items from the past which were discovered in Khasansky region, such as fragments of Manchurian dishware and shell casings. We were then given the opportunity to participate in a short quiz about the region. Anya did the best and was awarded a postcard; I was also given one, the award for being the only foreigner in the group.
We went back to our boats and returned to Posyet, where we piled back into our van. Night was approaching, and we drove to the nearby town of Andreevka, a small touristy town with mostly dirt roads and dachas on the outskirts. By the time we arrived it was evening, and we did some shopping at a market and then, unexpectedly, got into a different vehicle, hired by the company to take us to the dacha where we would spend the night. Our new ride was a massive jeep-like vehicle with insanely large wheels and a massive suspension. I would soon find out that the worst roads in Russia were not actually in Dagestan; they were in Primorsky Krai (not really, I'm sure there are worse roads out in the middle of nowhere in northern Russia, but are they actually roads?). I'm sure glad that I never get motion sickness, as the driving was rough, the vehicle rocking back and forth as the driver nonchalantly drove over rocks that would punish a normal car going at the same speed. But it was fun.
When we arrived at our dacha, we were shown to our rooms and I was personally greeted by the elderly owners who spoke English, a pleasant surprise. The territory was very nice, with modern amenities yet a rustic feel. After settling in, our group met in the dining room where we were fed. Following dinner, Anya and I stayed there and spent some time chatting and drinking beer, and got to know each other better. I can't count how many times she made the 'American spy' joke, but it never ceased to amuse, and we had a great time.
On the second day of the excursion, the original plan was to go back out onto the water, but the weather on the sea was reportedly not suitable. It wasn't long before the huge jeep picked us up, and instead of going and rocking about on the water, we would do so in this vehicle for the first part of the day. The dirt roads in this area seemed like a maze, as they are a system of trails, some more treacherous than others, and unmarked forks in the road are a common occurrence. The ride was incredibly bumpy as usual, but one can poke their head out the top and stand while the vehicle is moving at full speed- hold on tight and try to avoid getting smacked in the face by an overhanging tree branch.
The first stop was at a Soviet-era lighthouse. Still maintained but of more ceremonial use today, the lighthouse grounds were well kept, the grass trimmed and the watchful eye of Lenin ensuring that all goes well, his bust overlooking the territory from a brick wall. Another short ride and we were at yet another artillery battery, this one gargantuan compared to the rest. Its inner workings were underground, a labyrinth of rusty, confined catacombs with dimply lit corridors and damp floors. The groundskeeper, dressed in a long felt overcoat, polished black shoes and an officer's hat, looked as if he had wandered in from the 1950s, ready to give the signal to fire at a moment's notice. By this time the fog up on the hills was so thick you could cut it, but our vehicle sailed on without a care.
We stopped at a cliffside along the coast, reached by a short walk through the forest, and then, a steep descent guided by rope tied to the Korean pines, alluring turquoise water crashing nearby all the while. After visiting a couple more beaches and swimming for the umpteenth time, we returned to Andreevka, and got out of our Megaturd and into an even bigger, massive military-grade vehicle called an Ural, notorious for their ability to navigate the most extreme roads in Russia. It would be much needed for where we went next- another zapovednik in an enclosed area near the coast, where different animals lived including lynxes and deer.
Here you can walk around the territory a bit and see large herds of young deer in the distance, while the adults, still weary, muster up the courage to come up to you if you offer them food- I fed them some khlebuchka, a diminutive, cutesy way of saying bread.
Back in the truck, we made a slow descent down the hillside towards the beach. We had two young guides who took us for a long hike through this enchanted forest, with the ocean always in view. Russian people are more connected to nature than most, and they stop to admire every living thing, showing their appreciation for the natural world. We spent some time sitting on a steep hill near the beach, and at last began our return to the Ural truck. Returning to Andreevka, we then piled back into our original van, and returned to Vladivostok, Oleg continuing to talk to us and answer our questions along the way.
The return to Vladivostok was rather anticlimactic; how could it not be, after seeing such pristine nature, mostly unspoiled by the acts of man. In a world where the destruction of nature is rampant, it is a welcome reprieve to know that there are places designated to be forever wild, and most of Russia is wild, in truth. This country has its own environmental issues, but the wilderness of Siberia, what with the inhospitable weather and vast taiga, still has a chance to outlive the pressures of human habitation, at least for now. The green hills of Primorsky Krai and the blue-green waters of Peter the Great Gulf will be forever etched upon my memory.
The next morning, I got in contact with Anya, who said that I could come over to her hotel to try something that I had long wanted to try- Kamchatka crab. She told me she had friends in Vladivostok, and upon learning that she was coming to the Far East, they went out onto the open ocean and fished enough crab to fill a whole crate; she hadn't been eating in restaurants, as her company was feasting on crab every day since their arrival. She mentioned that there was so much left that she didn't know what to do with it, and I told her I knew an American who would gladly help her with this troubling problem. She wouldn't give it away freely, however, and in return for this delicacy asked that I trim my beard, which seemed like a pretty sweet deal. So I had a nice breakfast of coffee and crab, and an unofficial item on my Far East checklist was marked as completed.
We then walked around the hilly area of the city, taking photos and looking for good vantage points. We found an interesting part of the city, where a couple old izbushkas are neighbors to modern tower flats, a strange juxtaposition of the old and the new. The afternoon was spent eating seafood at an amazing Japanese restaurant, where on the menu were oysters and whole scallops. We went to the beach with the lighthouse at the southernmost point of the city, to swim and chat about everything under the sun- namely about our impressions of the excursion, and other places we had either visited or would like to visit. At long last, we took a taxi back to the center of town, where I was to hop on a train to my next destination: the city of Khabarovsk in Khabarovsky Krai. In Anya I had found a fellow travel enthusiast, a kindred spirit curious and interested in adventure and history like I was.
I did not truly want to leave Vladivostok. Here, I spent time with locals and learned much about a far-flung part of Russia, a piece of Europe in Asia. I found good company, and in Anya's words, saw the best of Primorsky Krai. But my journey had to continue. And so, we said our goodbyes, I hopped on my train, and one chapter of my epic journey came to an end as another began.
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