August 11, 2020
The night train from Vladivostok to Khabarovsk slowed down some thirty minutes outside of the city, came to a complete stop, and was declared to have broken down by the wagon assistant. I wasn't upset about this, but after a couple hours my neighbors were talking of refunds and missed time due to this technical error. It didn't surprise me much, to be honest. There is a running joke that the worst trains get sent to Siberia and the Far East, as far away as possible, while the best (newest) are kept around Moscow. This might have some truth to it- that the infrastructure is better closer to the capital, or that the trains connecting Siberian cities are generally in worse condition- although the long-distance trains will inevitably end up in Moscow, making the joke just that- a joke. My train, 061MA, was heading to Moscow, perhaps with some passengers going all the way there. Now I was the temporary passenger on the train only until the next major city. A feeling of relief overtook the wagon when the train suddenly went into gear and groaned into Khabarovsk station.
I had heard some things about Khabarovsk, and had seen it on the map, yet I didn't truly know what to expect when I stepped off the train. My immediate impressions were not the same as when I had arrived in Vladivostok, as I was immediately greeted with grey Soviet tower flats whose color matched the overcast sky. An epic statue to the Cossack explorer Erofey Khabarov, after which the city and region are named, greets all arrivals.
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| Monument to Erofey Khabarov |
I feared that the whole city would be like this, as there are indeed many Russian cities which all look like the same mass-produced Lego kit consisting only of 'depression grey' colored bricks. Little did I know that I would warm up to this city before I would move on to the next.
Find the hostel, check in, and wander- the normal operations were carried out. A long walk down one of the main streets took me to the city center, where the blue-roofed and golden-domed Uspensky Cathedral stands high, looking down at the Soviet Monument to Heroes of the Far East. Nearby are the banks of the Amur River, its murky water reflecting the grey sky. Here one can find tour boats leaving at scheduled intervals, and I decided to see the river from up close.
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| Khabarovsk from the Amur River |
From one side, I took in a view of the city, including the palace-like Far East Art Museum, the walkway along the embankment, and the statue of Nikolay Muravyov Amursky, the revered Russian statesman largely responsible for expanding Russia's territory into the Far East. A picture of his statue is on one side of the largest currency denomination, the 5000 ruble bill. From the other side of the boat, I saw tugboats and barges carrying lumber passing by, and a small island and the Chinese province of Heilongjiang. Not long after passing a riverside factory, the lengthy Khabarovsk Bridge came into view, an impressive sight. Originally built in the 1910s, it was a major link in the Trans Siberian Railway. It has been upgraded since but is a still a testament to engineering as the Amur river is incredibly wide; it is on the other side of the 5000 ruble bill, and I rode across this bridge going to Vladivostok.
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| Monument to Nikolay Muravyov-Amursky |
Following the river tour I walked along the embankment, passed through a park and found the statue of Nikolay Muravyov Amursky, an impressive bronze goliath proudly overlooking the river. Old but untarnished artillery pieces decorate the park, and I found the Khabarovsk Museum of the Far East nearby. The sun had started to come out, and my impressions of the city became more positive, partly due perhaps to the improving weather, but partly because I was genuinely impressed by the city; the buildings- at least in this part of the town- were beautiful, the streets and sidewalks clean and well-kept.
I stopped at a large Czech restaurant and brewery, where I had a delicious meal and a beer, and was conscripted to join in on a traditional dancing game, the prize being a massive mug of stout. Sadly I did not win, try as I did, but I'll remember to bring my A-game if I ever find myself in a Czech restaurant again.
Wandering in the direction of my hostel, I came upon a beautiful square- Lenin Square, of course. It was decorated with beautiful fountains and flowerbeds. Some youths were skateboarding, and I offered one US dollar to whomever could perform a kickflip; they quickly started trying their hardest, and it wasn't long before a young boy named Misha executed the act, claiming the glory.
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| Lenin Square |
Khabarovsk is a very walkable city, and it is pleasant to do so. Near my hostel was Dynamo Park, a huge park with trails, tennis courts and ice cream vendors. Here people can relax, walk, and enjoy the weather. On its southern side, a small strip flanked by benches and hedge statues continues well into the central part of the city. Here in Dynamo park you can feel as though you are in the forest, but are in fact near the middle of the largest city in Russia's Far East.
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| Dynamo Park |
On my second day in Khabarovsk, I started off strong with a hearty breakfast at a nearby cafe and then went to the museum I had seen the day before. This museum was incredible; not only did it thoroughly encompass all areas of Russian and pre-Russian history of the region, but it also had a large exhibition on natural history as well. It includes displays of what life was like during the days of Khabarovsk's finding to today.
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| Inside the Khabarovsk Museum |
The city has a previous Chinese name, Boli, which was apparently part of a Chinese Empire, although little is known about it, and the area was inhabited by Tungusic peoples like the Duchers and Jurchens. Yerofey Khabarov built an ostrog (fort) somewhere near the city in 1650. Along the Amur river, the Cossacks forcefully extracted yasak (tribute) in the form of furs from the local tribes, which led them to rebel and attack the Cossack host, unsuccessfully. He then defeated a much larger force of Manchus and Koreans. Khabarov and his Cossacks ended up abandoning the fort and sailed away. What is incredible about this period of the region's history is how much is unknown, such as the location of Khabarov's fort; much of the history has become legend.
The city shares a similar history with Vladivostok, as the area came under control of the Qing Empire in the late 1600s and then was ceded to Russia in 1858 with the Treaty of Aigun. It went through the same tumultuous times as every other city during the 20th century, but much like Vladivostok retains a distinctive international feel due to the many surviving buildings of many styles from the 1800s. Khabarovsk, like Vladivostok, was one of the last strongholds of the White Movement during the final period of the Russian Civil War as anticommunist forces were being pushed to the Far East. In the outskirts of the city, the White Army fought the heroic but ill-fated Battle of Volochayevka against the Red Army in 1922, after which the White Army continued to suffer losses until their defeat. Today, Khabarovsk remains as one of the larger cities in Russia and is of significant importance, especially in the Far East.
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| Spaso-Preobrazhensky Cathedral |
After leaving the museum, the next destination was a large white cathedral, the Spaso-Preobrazhensky Cathedral, an immense white church overlooking the river from up on a hill. As expected, the Park Pobedi (Park of the Victors) dedicated to soldiers who fought during World War Two was right nearby. I strolled around, grabbed some food, and went back to Lenin square where I witnessed some protesters massing in the square. The former major of Khabarovsk, Furgal, had been removed from power in July, and the people were not happy about it. A native of the region, Furgal had won a landslide victory a couple years ago, humiliating the opponent who was backed up by President Putin's United Russia party. Reeling from humiliation, the party decided to remove Furgal from power by trumping up charges about a contract killing in the 2000s. Why this 'crime' should come to light more than ten years after it supposedly happened is clear evidence that it is… true, of course!! The people of Khabarovsk loved Furgal, and many cars displayed banners and papers in the windows reading Furgal ne ubistva (Furgal is not a killer). The turnout for the day's protest was low as it was a weekday, but on the weekends people were massing in the thousands, and in July in the tens of thousands, walking throughout the city. Here, I met a man named Dmitry, who spoke English but was happy to speak with me in Russian. A protester himself, he relayed his anger and frustration with the situation. I did not partake in any of this, and was just there out of curiosity. Some people wore masks and sunglasses out of fear of being identified; they believed they had tabs being kept on them. There was also some police presence, and when a couple officers approached a group of people perhaps to tell them to disperse, they were shouted and booed away, and for just a moment, the will of the people prevailed in the Far East. A lone protestor walked not with the flag of the Russian Federation, but the flag of Khabarovsk Krai, a blatant challenge to state authority.
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| Protesters on Lenin Square |
The following day, I made my way north of the city to check out a zoo which I had read about online. Like a child I gawked at the animals, which included many native species; moose, reindeer, bears, boars, wolves, foxes, martens, bobcats, falcons, owls, otters, leopards, and the king of them all, the Siberian tiger. Seeing this beast was truly impressive, and I got to see the zookeepers feed it a massive chunk of meat, which it took in its mouth and retreated to the rear of its territory to devour. It is such a shame that there are so few left, as poaching continues to hurt the population while the demand for luxury animal parts grows in neighbouring China.
There was also a polar bear in the zoo, and I got so close to it that I could have touched its nose; while it was pacing around its cage, it got up on its hind legs and puts its paws and face right up to the metal bars, the only thing keeping me from becoming its next meal. I loved this zoo, and must have spent more than an hour there, doing a couple rounds. There were so many different species, and truly showcased the natural diversity of Siberia.
I stuck my thumb out walking along the road, and within a minute had hitched a ride back to the city. There I went to the Khabarovsk art museum, which displayed many native paintings but also an impressive display of international artwork. The giftshop attendante, an elderly man, spoke English, French, and Japanese, reaffirming the idea that this Far Eastern city has always been open to the world and in favor of international dialogue- Khabarovsk, unlike Vladivostok, was never a closed city, even throughout the time of the Soviet Union.
I had seen Khabarovsk, and would probably have liked it even more had I spent a few more days there. Life there seems to be pretty good, with a standard of living above that of many other places in Russia. But my trip had to continue. After returning from the art museum, I gathered my belongings from the hostel and went to the train station in the early evening to catch an over night ride to the next destination: Blagoveshchensk, the capital of Amur Oblast.
I arrived in Blagoveshchensk early in the morning, and heavy rain was falling. Instead of taking a taxi, I hopped on the first bus that showed up and rode it into the center of the city, getting off at a point which thought would be close to my hostel. Walking in the rain, my first impressions of the city were... not as good as my impressions of Vladivostok and Khabarovsk. Gray or red brick buildings and tower flats dominated the city center with the exception of one modern panel building which seemed out of place. I shouldn't be so harsh because the weather can really make it or break it, but I could sum up the whole city in one word: gloomy.
Arriving at my hostel, I learned they couldn't host me since they didn't have the right documents to house foreigners. So back out in the rain I went, and walked to another hostel. There I checked in and got some much needed shut-eye.
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| Triumphal Arch dedicated to the Tsar |
Anya had given me the contact information of a woman named Rosa, a psychiatrist, who had been on part of our excursion in Primorsky Krai. She said I should contact her and perhaps she would show me around the city. I messaged her, and she responded and we met up. The first place she showed me was the city embankment along the Amur River. On the other side is the Chinese city of Heihe. I saw the Arch of the Tsar, built in celebration of his arrival to the city via the Trans Siberian Railway. Also along the enbankment is a grounded gun boat from the war- it wouldn't be a Russian city without the display of military hardware!
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| A view of Heihe |
There were bronze statues dedicated to the border guards and the dogs that served them. In fact, there are random bronze statues throughout the city, dedicated to other random occupations, such as the ice cream lady and the suitcase trader, or, more likely, dedicated to an actual person who did these jobs but never acheived any sort of fame. We walked through an empty amusement park, and met up with her boyfriend David. Prior to meeting him, she told me he was studying dentistry, but upon meeting him he did not seem to match the dentist type; donning a full Adidas tracksuit and shaved head, I wondered if this man would be performing root canals and advising people to brush their teeth in the next few years. But we should never judge a book by its cover, and we must also remember that this is Russia, a country where seemingly anything can happen, and much is not always as it appears.
We hopped into David's car, a compact white minivan with threadbare seats. We drove around, while Rosa advised David where to go so as to show me the city. They showed me the Blagoveshchensk public cultural center, where one can watch a play or get tickets to see a show. The building doesn't look like a cultural center, but rather like some dismal brutalist bad-guy lair from a Bond film.
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| Blagoveshchensk public cultural center |
We went to a park, where we walked down a pathway lined with white painted Soviet statues. We drove around and saw a few more buildings, such as the government academy of medicine and a couple churches, while Rosa pondered out loud what else there could be to show me and David aggressively overtook cars which he perceived to be driven by slow, bad drivers, which was basically everyone but him. It was made even more interesting by the weather- it had rained so much that many of the streets were flooded, and the streets right in the city were terrible to begin with. Yet I had started to get along with this young couple, and we went to a mall which seemed to be where everyone in the whole city would go for amusement, where we grabbed some food and chatted. David told me that he liked America, and Rosa and I asked him why, as he had never been there before. "I don't know, I just like it" he said. That's a good enough reason for me to get along with a non-American. We sat in a cafe for some time, telling each other stories and cracking jokes.
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| An Orthodox church |
The next day Rosa met up with me again and David would join us here and there as he had some work to do. We went to the Blagoveshchensk museum. The area around Blagoveshchensk, much like Khabarovsk, was originally inhabited by Tungusic peoples but claimed by the Qing Empire. Russian settlers had lived in the area since the mid-1600s. This land also came under the control of the Russian Empire with the Treaty of Aigun in 1858.
The Boxer Rebellion is a very interesting event in Chinese history, during which Chinese citizens became tired of foreign involvement in the affiars of their country. Many banded together in underground groups, many of whom practiced martial arts, hence the name 'boxers'. In 1900, their resentment boiled over and they began slaughtering foreigners and Chinese Christians, with the focal point being in Beijing. A multinational coalition was formed with troops from Russia, France, Britain, Germany, Japan, Austria-Hungary, Italy, and the United States. The Boxers, along with Qing soldiers, shelled Blagoveshchensk for two weeks in July, attacking Russian territory and civilians. To deal with the 'Chinese problem' the city government sent out police and Cossacks to round up all the Chinese in Blagoveshchensk and to march them to a lower section of the Amur River where they wanted to bring them to the Chinese side. Things turned south when there were no boats to bring them across, and some 5,000 Chinese were forced into the river where they drowned or were bayonetted to death. This came to be known as the Blagoveshchensk Massacre. Like many rebellions in China, the Boxer Rebellion failed, resulting in the useless deaths of many.
What is interesting is that the museum did not mention this unfortunate event, and preferred to focus on the events of World War Two. There were references to the Boxer Rebellion in the form of paintings displaying a miraculous event, during which the Mother of God, after the Russians prayed to the locally famous Icon of Albazin, appeared and saved the city during the Chinese bombardment by filling the assailants with fear and making their artillery ineffective. Yet, there was no mention of the massacre that followed. One might say that with Russian-Chinese diplomatic ties being so close, it is better not to dig into this dirty part of history. Many people have no idea that this massacre ever happened. It would seem that both sides have chosen to forget; both have troublesome relations with the west, and business is good, so why broach such a negative subject?
The museum featured taxidermied wildlife, everyday items of Russian settlers, Chinese ceramics and many other historical items, including a massive mural of the signing of the Treaty of Aigun which gave the territory to Russia. It was an interesting display of the history of a city which continued to seem not so interesting; yet, I was with company, and felt that I should show some interest in whatever Rosa and David would show me.
The weather was still as grey as ever, and David picked us up from the museum. By this time, Rosa was starting to wonder what else there was to show me, comically pointing out the city morgue as we passed by. The city has a morgue! How wonderful. Yet our next destination was quite interesting- the Russian-Chinese park of peace and friendship, built in the 90s during the restoration of Chinese-Russian relations. David dropped us off in a residential area surrounded by brutalist tower flats. Here, Rosa and I walked around the park, by the pond and its nonfunctioning fountains, and around decaying white or pepto-bismol pink oriental pavilions with orange roofs. The park was almost empty, other than a few youths on scooters, using the shelter of the building donated by China to practice scootering on the only nearby flat and dry surface. It was all very strange, but the most symbolic section was the inner section of the gate, flanked by towers with the words mir (peace) and druzhba (friendship). A tree, evidently smaller in the 90s, had overgrown, blocking the word friendship from view; it would seem that now there is only peace, and no friendship.
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| The Russian-Chinese park of friendship |
This brings up the question, what do the Russians think of the Chinese? Rosa was quite positive, and told me how she sometimes goes to the city of Heihe opposite the river, where Russians can get a day visa to explore the city, do some shopping, and admire the tall lit-up buildings and towers which starkly contrast with the more somber looking city on the Russian side, almost mockingly. There are many Chinese products in Blagoveshchensk and in the Far East in general, such as cheap fruits and vegetables, and Rosa was quick to talk this up. David, on the other hand, was reluctant to say anything positive, which was not so surprising; he emanated Gopnik, the rough Russian subculture characterized by Adidas tracksuits, alcohol and sunflower seed consumption, shaved heads, and a dislike for anything non-Slavic; it is a subculture born in the entrances of Soviet towerflats whose lifeblood is either drunken dancing or drunken violence. Yet, his viewpoint seemed to be the norm; I had spoken with ordinary Russians in Vladivostok and Khabarovsk who were more than willing to show their disgust with the fact that the Chinese had their own names for these cities and continued to claim sovereignty over the land. The opinions I would hear as my trip went on would only get more interesting.
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| Typical flats of the city |
Passing the sad attempt at a recreation of the Great Wall of China, we went to a nearby mall of sorts to grab some food, and then David picked us up. We drove around some more, near a residential area which had a strange mix of tower flats and possibly hundred-year-old cottages, through the 'dangerous' part of town according to David, and to the outskirts of the city. After a drive down a dirt road, we came to a trail of sorts, where Rosa and David said there was an interesting statue. A short walk led to a tall white crucifix. A little further, and we came to a statue dedicated to the Cossacks, who discovered and conquered this land for the Russian Empire. From up on the hill, one can see the Amur River and China on the other side. I didn't know at the time but later learned after much research that this was the site of the Blagoveshchensk Massacre; there is no statue, no plaque commemorating it. Between the just married couple doing their photoshoot and the locals filling up water at a spring, one would never have any idea that this location has some dark history which everyone seems to have forgotten.
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| Monument to the Cossacks |
I had another early evening train to catch. Rosa and David and I took some photos together to celebrate our meeting, and continued to chat amicably all the way to the train station. There, I gave them my own symbol of friendship- one US dollar, worth nothing to them but memories. I was lucky to have met them both. Had I not, I would not have seen as much of the city, would not have learned as much. They made the stop worthwhile and showed me what I can say is one of Russia's more archetypical cities, a stark, grey counterbalance to the bright streets of Moscow or the beautiful canals of St. Petersburg.
The next destination was Chita. To get there, I first took a two hour train to the city of Belogorsk. A short, golden Lenin overlooks the station courtyard. I did some shopping at a small store nearby, which provided, among what one would normally buy, the most important staples of the train passenger's diet in this region- ramen, instant mashed potatoes, canned fish, and vodka. I then found the train to Chita, settled in, and started the one-day seven-hour trip to the capital of Zabaykalsky Krai.
The day-long trip started like any normal day on the train. Stopping at a middle-of-absolute-nowhere settlement called Amazar, I made a phone call to a lady named Irina whose contact I had been given by my wonderful coworker Natalia, who hails from Chita. Natalia told me that her friend in the city would show me around, so the tradition of meeting locals would continue. There on the platform, Russian men squatted and smoked cigarettes while looking at their phone, or made calls. There, a man with a blond buzz cut said something to me about my hair, and not really understanding what he said, I assented to whatever he said and returned to my bunk. I drank some coffee, listened to some music, and then was interrupted by the same man, this time with a friend. They sat down in the empy seat across from mine and on my neighbour's bunk, and I was blocked in. "Do you remember me?" the blond man said, slurring his words. I said I did. "We served in the VDV" his friend said, as if having served with the Russian paratroopers should command immediate respect. Here I was, surrounded by the most average of people, possibly gopniks. "I don't like you hair. Why do you have this hair?" he asked. "Why not?" I retorted. "Why?" he asked again, his face contorting. "Why not? It's my life." They were puzzled, perhaps hearing my accent. Trying to figure out if I was Russian or a foreigner, I gave them little. "Let's go drink" he said. They were already well on their way. What he said next was incomprehensible. "No. I'm a foreigner, I won't drink with you. You go to the restaurant wagon and drink, without me" was my response. A look of absolute confusion swept over his face as I told them both to go. Prodded on by his buddy, he left begrudgingly, and as he did, I learned that his drinking company was more than just him and his friend. Two more men walked by, one of whom picked up my telephone, looked at it, and then placed it back on the table. I did not trust these men one bit. As they moved on down the aisle to drink themselves into oblivion, my neighbours looked at me as if I had just walked away unscathed from a 42 car pile up. The whole train is just one stretched out microcosm of society. I went to the provodnik, the person whose job is to distribute linens, clean the wagon, and do other tasks during the trip, and told her about the situation. She told me not to worry, and asked if they were from our wagon- they were not. I was told that I would simply talk to the police at the next stop, identify them, and the culprits would be taken away, just like that. Great, I thought, I'll chat with the police who are universally hated and then everyone will hate me.
The next stop was Mogocha. There, I hopped off on the platform, and from slightly afar saw my blond friend drunkenly reveling with his comrades, the police nowhere to be seen. When the train started moving again, the attendant informed me that the neighbouring wagon was full of these types, and that she had been asked to lock the wagon doors. "The police are sitting in the wagon with them, and I can hear them knocking on the door, asking to be let out" she said. A hilarious solution had been found to this unpredictable state of affairs.
Could this have been avoided, perhaps if I shaved my head and started crushing tallboys at 9:00 in the morning? It doesn't seem worth it. Considering the fact that I went on a month long trip, being exposed daily to many different people (and riding third class), one might say that such unpleasantries were inevitable. It does not change my opinion one bit, nor does it make me regret traveling how I did; if anything, I am glad I had the experience. It was a test, one which I passed. There are always a few bad apples, and I was lucky since the good ones were in my own wagon; in the afternoon and evening, some traveling workers invited me to join them for a few shots, and my other neighbours implored me to join them for a few card games. Mostly, I looked out the window at the endless wilderness and remote villages of Zabaykalsky Krai.
I arrived in Chita at 4 in the morning. I knew little about the city, other than that it wasn't exactly some sprawling megapolis, and that is was to some degree a 'criminal' city. I didn't have much time to spare in the city-there was much more to see before I had to return to Moscow, so I would leave that same day in the evening.
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| A view of Chita |
The roads were dark and wet, and a couple local taxis stood by waiting for a passenger. I took one to my hostel, which involved going to a strange part of the city, down an incredibly bumpy dirt road lined with lifeless buildings. I only needed to sleep, and checked out at noon, at which time Irina and I had agreed to meet. Waiting for her, I realized where I was- in the urban hell part of the city. When she picked me up, she was astounded that there was a hostel there at all, saying that it was the first time she had been to this sketchy location.
Irina is an English and Chinese teacher who runs her own private school. She and her husband, an ethnic Buryat, both learned Chinese while living there, and it really doesn't come as much of a surprise since China is directly south of Zabaykalsky Krai. She was incredibly upbeat and keen on showing me her city, and I was keen on seeing it. We started by visiting the orthodox bell tower overlooking the city from up on a hill, reaching by driving up a winding road flanked by wooden huts.
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| Bell tower on the hill |
The next stop was at the beautiful blue-white-gold church near the train station and not far from the city center, the Cathedral of the Kazan Icon of Mother Mary. Inside I sat on a bench, admiring the architecture and artwork, when a lady came up to me asking for something- to be blessed. With my long hair and beard, I had been mistaken for a priest. I guess not even the Adidas t-shirt thwarted her presumption. Before I could even register what had happened, she walked away, and I was left dumbfounded.
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| Cathedral of the Kazan Icon of Mother Mary |
Can you guess where the next stop was? If you guessed Lenin Square, then you are correct. Here I saw the city center, which was quite nice, with lovely neoclassical buildings surrounding the wide square. From there we went to a closeby park with military hardware, decorated paths and a ferris wheel.
We stopped at the Buddhist temple, a white structure decorated with bright hues and surrounded by pavilions with large barbani, prayer wheels, which consist of a rotating metal cylinder with religious Tibetan inscriptions which Buddhists rotate as they walk around. Just as frequent are a small line of prayer wheels built into the side of a building or brick wall, all of which are rotated as one spins each one walking past.
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| A Buddhist datsan |
We had a typical Russian lunch at a nearby mall, and she showed me the single room she rented in an office building where she taught her students. With a few desks and some posters on the wall, it was simple but all that she needed. I understood that she was a resourceful person, making ends meet in this corner of the world with her knowledge and expertise; let's not forget that business in Russia, as I have been told by many, is not so easy.
We then saw the Church of the Decembrists, built by exiles of the failed revolt of 1825, during which a dispute broke out regarding the succession of the suddenly deceased Tsar Nicolas I. Many of those who participated where exiled to different places in Siberia, with the largest portion being sent to Chita, where they built this church without any nails.
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| Church of the Decembrists |
The next stop was to the sandy (and apparently rather polluted) Lake Kenon, a common place for summer barbeques, and then on to the last destination- the city's victory park. Every city has one, with some more grandiose than others. The one in Chita was lush with greenery but not devoid of wide, paved spaces and military vehicles.
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| Victory Park |
Irina dropped me off at the train station and we said goodbye and good luck to one another. She was an incredible guide and positive person. There is little more that I can say about Chita. It is difficult to come up with an impression when I spent so little time there, but from what I have heard and seen it seems like a relatively normal city in Russia- the only 'civilized' part, in the words of my coworker. Much of the rest of Zabaykalsky Krai, aside from a few other cities, consists of tiny wooden villages whose main products are most likely wild berries, lumber, and crippling depression. It is truly a forgotten region, a massive green void to where nobody wants to move but plenty seem to want to leave. Yet it is beautiful, a largely unspoiled wilderness slightly smaller than Sweden and with a population smaller than the state of Maine.
In passing through these three cities and the territories they administer, I had covered a huge portion of my return trip to Moscow. With every stop, the reality sunk in more that I was travelling back across the largest country in the world. To an outsider like myself, some of these cities may not seem very appealing, may not seem like much. But to many who live there, this is home, and there's no place like home. This was what I was told by those I met along the way, by Rosa, by Irina.
After the mind blowing experience I had had in Primorsky Krai, the time spent in these Far Eastern cities provided me with a chance to reset, as well to see more of what many Russians may consider to be the 'real thing'. I was given glimpses into the daily lives of the people I met along the way, and unabashed displays of their mentality and world view. I was also shown warm, easy-going hospitality, as those I met took time out of their day to show a foreigner around town. All of this would continue at my next destination, which ranks among my most beloved regions in all of Russia: Buryatia and Lake Baikal.
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