From Russia with Love | Krasnoyarsk: My Stranger in Siberia

From Russia with Love | Krasnoyarsk: My Stranger in Siberia

Siberia at last. Traveling to Siberia has occupied my mind in the last few years, but the name itself has struck a strange note ever since I was a child who was in awe of its vast snowy landscape and lonely Russian soldiers, peasants and convicts. At time, Siberia seemed forbidden and far away and being there was unthinkable, hence it took some time to comprehend that I would soon come to a part of my dream.

But first, I needed to pick a destination, if not for me then for the Russian rail ticket agents. There was no option like ‘anywhere in Siberia.’ I randomly picked a city on the Tran-Siberian route. Surprise, surprise, that city was called Novosibirsk, meaning New Siberia. A day before I bought the ticket, I reread the guidebook and did some research. Novosibirsk had nothing touristic to offer unless I wanted to apply for a job in one of many factories Novosibirsk was known for.  People whom I had met opted to visit another city 12 hours east of Novosibirsk, Krasnoyarsk, which received more favorable review: “Krasnoyarsk is a beautiful city, established by Russian Cossacks (military servants) in 1628. It’s name consists of two words — Krasnyi (red, because of clay reddish soil) and Yar (steep bank). Views of Yenisey River and the nearby Sayan Mountains covered by taiga forest are quite picturesque”.  Such generic description normally would not attract my attention, but I wanted to break my train journey and didn’t want to live on the train for 54 hours until reaching my final destination, Irkutsk, from the departure point Yekaterinburg. 54 hours without showering and being in constant contact with 54 strangers who not only looked at me but could even smell me. On top of that, I had one of the worse seat selection, the top side bunk, which was another story. I just couldn’t bear it.

On the train I met people who had been and would be traveling for days and remembered those I met from Moscow who took the train all the way from Irkutsk to Moscow and vice versa. Who cared about messy hairs and bad smell if everyone was in the same state? One person told me that after a while, you stopped smelling yourselves. And if you stopped smelling yourself, I figure you also lost the ability to detect sense from others.

I had mixed feeling and regretted having chosen this city since I could have saved two extra days for Lake Baikal, the one and final destination for everybody who ventured this far out into the Asian Russia. I thought of my upcoming host, if we would get along since her profile didn’t say much. My train, for the first time, was late by almost an hour which made me even more nervous because my host, Marina, was already waiting at the station. Soon my worry disappeared. Marina was like a lovely bird flew out from nowhere in front of me, having found me from the stream of passengers pouring out from the long train. She smiled and talked non-stop; the first Russian on my trip who was this cheerful.  We took the bus to get home where I had a quick shower, drank a cup of coffee before immediately going out. The lovely bird and hyperactive Energizer bunny rabbit Marina and her friend Anna took me to Tatyshev island to sunbathe and swim. I did a little ‘swim’ if you considered walking knee-deep into the river and splashed water swim. Despite the strong sun and hot weather, the river was very cold, probably at 10 degree Celsius or less, and despite the multitude of Russians in bathing suites, I hardly saw any swimmer. This was Siberia, something must remain cold. The recreational park was full of active Siberians who wore only tiny pieces of clothing, short shorts and sport bras. Inline-skaters, sunbathers, runners, bikers, swamped the park as if they were racing against the season to embrace the short summer before the winter returned. A Siberian winter, remember that.

The next day, Monday, Marina planed to take half a day off to escort me to Krasnoyarsk’s most famous sight, the Stolby (Pillars) Natural Reserve. For some, the Stolby was a sight to be visited, for others it was a way of life. There are even words for it like ‘stolbist’ and ‘stolbism’. Read ‘Stolby, stolby‘, an article by Alexander Berman which describes climbers and their experiences and has better photos of the Stolby. Our 14-km hike was frequently interrupted by customers and friends checking on Marina. At this time of day, the busy bee Marina would be at work and visible on Skype, and when she wasn’t, they all rang her phone off the hook to double-check before they filed a missing-child report. It was past noon and we did’t even make it to the first Stolby because naturally I stopped everywhere to read information and took pictures in addition to linger at the adult training ground trying on balance rope, rotating ladder and stripper poles. I became completely oblivious to the fact that someone else needed to hurry back to work. My stranger whom I met 24 hours ago sat on the bench, smiling and waiting. We climbed to the top of one Stolby and had a good view of Siberian thick forest, also called taiga.

By the time we got back to the city, it was already 16:00. Thanks god Marina’s office was in the same apartment block, 5 minutes walk from home. She arrived at her office around 17:00.

My train left the morning after. We exchanged contacts and said the usual good-bye and expressed the wish to see each other again, but I doubt we would. I had said good-bye to many first-stranger-then-friends who I truly hoped I would meet again but with only few I did. The world is getting small thanks to many frequent, fast and cheap transportation, but this also means we have many more choices to travel when we can remove ourselves from home, work and the same usual place we go, which we often don’t. We have our own plans and own dream destinations.  Sooner or latter the one we met yesterdays would remain in the past and would not be able to catch up with us in our presence and future. I have come to accept other means to keep in touch, via Face Book, emails, or having their contacts added to my social media accounts just to keep a trace of them, to remember people whom I once knew.

The more you travel, the more places and things become more or less the same. I have forgotten most details. I have deleted most pictures. Many which I did save lost their meanings after a while. The only constant that I remember was my interaction and experience with those I met who added a human layer to otherwise plain objects and abstract concept.

Photos

Guys ran up very fast to get over gravity and got to the top before I took out my camera. This rock looks easy from the photo but in reality, it was dificult to climb as there was no edge to hold on to and the one on the right right is simply above the head.  

Training ground