Vladivostok and Friends

Richard writes:

Vladivostok; a city in a European country with its capital further away than Darwin. Its people are unmistakably European, with their pale harsh Russian features, yet, Japan is only a short ferry ride away. Almost equidistance from London, Melbourne and San Francisco; Vladivostok is regularly compared to San Francisco, with its hilly streets, Pacific Bay and even its bridge similarly named; the 'Golden Horn Bridge'. Having visited both, I also see the comparison. The key difference being, that Vladivostok looks like San Francisco would look, if most of its prettiest buildings were left unpainted and unattended for about 20 years. The glitz would still be there from a distance, but up close and personal, the glory of past days would require imagination to visualise.

After a 3,648km journey travelling in the opposite direction from London, our visit to Vladivostok was a visit simply borne of a desire to see Russia's Far East. The six night round train trip of over 7,500km to spend two nights in Vladivostok didn't disappoint. Compared to our introduction to Siberia, the air was warm and there was a smell of the sea in the air. With instructions for catching the bus to our hostel in hand, we admired yet another statue of Lenin and boarded our bus. As instructed, we got off the bus seven stops later. We looked around us and realised we seemed to have arrived in Vladivostok's housing commission area. Surrounded by Soviet tower blocks, we found number 41a and made our way to our hostel, housed in an apartment building. On arrival we were greeted by the owner and an extremely friendly Russian girl staying there, as well as Anthony, a Korean American who for reasons we are not entirely clear had made the hostel his home. We had much needed showers (though both were cold) before heading back into the city.

Our hostel's surrounds

As referred to in earlier posts, as much as we love each other's company, Casey and I always appreciate the opportunity to meet and spend time with others wherever we can. In Vladivostok, this was not true. We spent almost two of our three days in Vladivostok with well meaning, but intense individuals.

Intense individual number one was Mark. A Vladivostok native, we met in a coffee shop in the city's main restaurant strip mid afternoon on our first day. Completely bemused as to why we would wish to visit such a bleak dull city, he helpfully assisted us with our drink order and we accepted his invitation to sit with him. Unlike most Russians, Mark spoke almost impeccable English and his young face was gentler than the harsh features seen in most young Russian men. He was ecstatic to have helped us, but didn't comprehend that without his help we would have still got by. He went on to explain that without being able to speak Russian, we would not be able to cope. He therefore took it upon himself to chaperone us for the rest of the day. Our attempts to explain that we had spent almost three months of travel not really being able to communicate, and yet had still managed, fell on deaf ears. Normally we would have leapt at the chance of assistance from a local, but on this occasion we both felt uneasy. There was something of a stalker about Mark, the offer of assistance wasn't really an offer, but rather an order. Mark also had nothing positive to say about the city we had just invested 66 hours of precious time to get to. Negativity is not something you normally look for in a tour guide! He took us for a walk showing us the best places to go, whilst explaining that though they might be the best, they were not worth wasting time on. We saw the beach, numerous fountains, stalls selling Russian souvenirs and attempted to find a restaurant. 

The finding of a restaurant was a tricky business. There was no shortage of possibilities, but we were unsure as to whether Mark intended to join us. Normal sensibilities would dictate that we should have invited him, stating that he would be very welcome. Normal sensibilities were most definitely not appropriate in this circumstance however, as we both nervously hoped we would be rid of him at the earliest opportunity as we both were getting increasingly freaked out. When he asked where we were staying we vaguely explained, careful not give too much information. He understood however, and murmured something about it being close to where he lived. My freaked out level increasing by the minute. For dinner we eventually settled on a kind of cafeteria place, that served food of an unknown derivation. It was meat and vegetables, as many Russian dishes are, but it was also very flavoursome (not very Russian). Mark helped us order and watched us eat, but didn't order himself. At this point, the both of us started yawning manically, attempting to display the strongest tired body language signs we had. He got the hint, and escorted us to the bus stop home, and to our relief he didn't follow.

Photos from Vladivostok

We had arrived at our hostel earlier than planned, in our efforts to escape our stalker. We talked with fellow guests and agreed to visit the city of Ussuriysk the next day with Anthony, who was to become Intense individual number 2. Our agreement came before he went on a misogynistic homophobic rant. Our day in Ussuriysk was going to be a long one.

Neither Casey or I have ever heard of Ussuriysk, and dare say most people reading this won't have either. We learnt, however, that prior to the twentieth century, it was actually a bigger and more significant city than Vladivostok. Visited by Tsar Nicholas II in 1891, it was a charming city with beautiful buildings and a relaxed aura as well as being home to a large military college. We walked the streets with our chum Anthony, listening to what a thoroughly great bloke he was. He had been in the American army, run a series of successful businesses, written research papers, taught English as a foreign language and had retired at the grand old age of 38 to travel to Russia. We later learned that he was a man that you could not entirely rely on in terms of the accuracy of his statements. He professed to know everything about everything, but clearly didn't, and he showed very little interest about other peoples' lives. He also had some interesting opinions, demonstrated by his question; "Who is to blame for Russian men beating their wives?", suggesting it couldn't possibly be the men themselves. Despite Anthony's ramblings, we were able to zone out and enjoy our day, in what was a beautiful city. The day improved further, when we were joined by a friend of his, Svetlana. She lived in the city and gave us a proper tour showing us all the main land marks. She was friendly and genuinely lovely and her company rounded off what had been at times difficult, but an overall enjoyable day.

Photos from Ussuriysk

Despite our "interesting" company, we thoroughly enjoyed our jaunt to the Russian Far East. We enjoyed the Russian architecture, set foot on a Russian submarine that was still adorned by Stalin's portrait, admired numerous onion domed Russian Orthodox churches and walked the streets of two attractive cities. We even enjoyed a culinary first. In an attempt to sample some flavour in our food, we ordered a "spicy" pizza. This would normally mean a variety of toppings with maybe some paprika, or better still some chilli. This pizza however, had been laden with wasabi, and thus providing the nose "tickle" that only horseradish seems to give! It wasn't awful, but not an experience we are going to look for again. 

On boarding our train, we knew we had 74 hours ahead of us to Irkutsk. I am amazed how quickly long journeys pass, the days just merge into one. You sleep, eat, read and wherever possible get off the train during extended stops to buy supplies and stretch your legs, being careful not to venture too far, to ensure avoiding the disaster of the train setting off without you! The journey to Irkutsk was pleasant with some gorgeous scenery as well as some fairly mundane views. Our company has been mixed, with a mother and her baby child on the first night. Casey, in a misunderstanding, believed they were our cabin mates the whole journey, so we were relieved when they alighted at Khabarovsk. To the baby's credit, she was beautiful and quiet and the mother went out of her way to entertain her. Through broken English, we explained our trip and the mother described us as "heroes" and gave us a laminated card depicted a Russian Orthodox Saint, presumably to wish us safe travels ahead.

On returning from the restaurant car, on the second night, we found what would prove to be our favourite stable buddy so far. His name was Dima and he spoke less English than we speak Russian (we only speak about four words!) For hours however, we shared beer, communicated as best we could and showed each photos of our respective families. The rest of the journey was shared with a friendly, but quiet middle aged gent who enjoyed reading newspapers with Lenin's head adorning the top, so presumably a man yearning for the good old days before 1991.

Dima and Richard on the train