Russia

Russia wasn't at all what we expected. The portions served in the restaurants were rather tiny. Alcohol and especially beer was quite expensive. Moscow seemed to have more hipster bars and artsy places than Berlin. St. Petersburg looked like a bigger version of Milan and was overrun with tourists. There was free and fast wifi everywhere. Riding the trains of the Trans-Siberian Railway was more comfy than riding on a German train. And during the first two weeks we didn't have a single drop of Vodka.

The list goes on and on and on. We walked the streets with open eyes and couldn't believe what we were seeing. Russia had been a Soviet country just a few years ago? And the Soviets had ruined entire cityscapes with their architecture? Even the outskirts of the metropolises didn't look worse than those of the bigger German cities. Traffic in Russia would be just as mad as shown on YouTube? We hadn't been to a country with such organized traffic for the past three months. They even dealt with zebra-crossings way better than most German drivers.

In the same vein we did not expect to meet the kindest people far away from the big cities. And we certainly did not expect human relationships (or anything else for that matter) to grow warmer the further we went east and into Siberia. Strangely enough, this is exactly what happened. In Moscow and St. Petersburg people covered a scale ranging from being polite but distant to being aggressive and plainly rude.

Unfortunately the lady in the hostel we stayed at in Moscow covered the latter end of that scale. She did not speak a word of English, felt little compulsion to try, obviously despised our efforts to communicate in Russian and barked at us every chance she got. We hadn't felt this uncomfortable during the entire time we had been on the road up until then.

The other guests were a little better, but certainly not by much. It took two days until anybody talked to us at all. We were incredibly happy about the first time we heard a simple 'Good morning' and started to feel like something was seriously wrong with us (or this country). On day three things got better for some reason. Suddenly we had entire conversations with the other guests, one of whom was even fluent in German (which he had kept a secret for the first two days, don't ask me why). He taught us some words in Russian and explained a few things - most remarkably that we really wouldn't need to learn the Russian word for "Sorry" because "nobody in Russia was ever sorry".

It took us about a week to get used to this tone. People hardly said "Hello!" or "Goodbye!", "Please" or "Thank You!". We came to accept that just like some cultures seem overly friendly and almost uncomfortably touchy to us Western Europeans, Russian culture seemed to be rather cold and distant. "We reserve our smiles for special occasions", the guy in the hostel explained. And he seemed to be right: when talking to people on the street, asking for directions etc., some just turned their heads and didn't even bother to respond. One time we saw this man who was playing with his two young daughters, he through them up in the air and swirled them around, and judging from his facial expression this must have been the single most excruciating thing he had ever experienced.

Strangely enough, things like these happened in Mosocow and St. Petersburg rather than in smaller cities and out in the country. Even the language skills didn't worsen when leaving the two metropolises - people in Russia hardly spoke anything but Russian and without Google Translate we would have gotten nowhere in this country. The further we went east the more frequently we encountered people who were happy to and interested in meeting foreign travelers. People who tried to overcome any language barrier to help us and show us around.

Additionally, the people we met when surfing on their couches played a major part in redeeming the negative first impression we had gotten in Moscow and St. Petersburg. At the forefront of these experiences was our three-day stay with Gennady, a guy from Novosibirsk who looked like the grown-up version of the Kid on the Kinder Chocolate bars. Having traveled South America as a couch surfer he knew exactly what we needed and provided us with a washing machine, a large number of power outlets and the cultural exchange we had longed for since we had flown into Moscow three weeks earlier.

Another positive experience included staying in the flat of Alexandr's family in Nizhny Novgorod - he spontaneously had to leave town and still he organized for his cousin and her lovely six-year-old daughter to pick us up and show us around. And he let us stay in his apartment although he had never met us before. The incredible trust he placed in us made up for the rocky couch surfing experience with male model Andrey and his girlfriend. They mostly enjoyed talking about themselves, walking the streets of St. Petersburg at night and drinking Russia's signature lemonade Qvas, a mix of malt beer and dissolved bread.

In the end, us getting used to and being able to deal with the tone in combination with the positive experiences we made along the way lead to us making our peace with the country. Still, we were never able to shake off the discomfort altogether. Another funny anecdote on this subject: when leaving St. Petersburg we received a message from Milad, our couch surfing host in Tabriz, Iran. He told us that he was hosting two Russian couch surfers who "were like stones". We found this to be quite the metaphor to describe many of our human encounters there.

There are all sorts of myths and tales about the extraordinary experience that is riding the Trans-Siberian Railway. Before our first trip we had expected to indulge in a once-in-lifetime experience - and again our expectations turned out to be inadequate. You have been on a train before, anywhere in Europe? Great. Because that is what it is like to ride the Trans-Siberian Railway. It's not better, it's not worse, it's a pretty standard ride on a train with sleeping compartments. The only differences are that these trains are spookily punctual (you can count on leaving from and arriving at the stations at the exact times printed on your ticket) and that due to the sheer size of the country, at some point you will find yourself in one of these trains for at least 24 to 36 hours. We met people who hadn't scheduled visits to any of the cities in between Moscow and Irkutsk and even spent more than 72 hours on the train.

Luckily, riding the Trans-Siberian Railway turned out to be surprisingly comfortable and pleasant. It meant having a surprisingly comfortable bed instead of a seat, sharing a compartment with three instead of five other passengers, doing gymnastic exercises to climb up on the top bunks that one could probably have qualified for the Olympics with, watching movies, reading books, sorting through pictures and writing for this blog, standing at the window for hours trying to get the camera settings right and capture the scenery at full speed, eating large amounts of junk food (ready-made plastic bowels that could be turned into some sort of hot noodle pot when adding hot water, the only thing available on the train) and trying to avoid going number two on one of the two metal toilets at the left and right end of the coach.

And it meant looking out of the window for hours. At trees. And swamps. And trees. And fields. And trees. And villages. And trees. And tundra. And trees. And trees. And trees. And it meant getting out at every station to stretch and feel one's legs. And navigating through the elderly ladies selling dried fish and ready-made salads on the platforms. And getting back on the train when the conductor-lady says something in Russian. And doing it fast to avoid pissing her off - she owns the train and everybody in it. And then: looking out of the window. At trees.

Admittedly we had one trip where the train's windows wouldn't open and the AC kept failing. And yes, this was the only time when we shared a compartment with two very smelly elderly men. And to our right there was a family with small children and to our left there was a chain smoking drunk. Yes. That happened. And there was this other trip when we shared our compartment with an old guy from Ireland who was snoring so incredibly loud that we didn't get any sleep for two nights in a row. But we also had those rides where people fed us Russian cookies, lemonade and tea. And we met Julie and Antoinne, a French couple who took a break from living on a heavenly French island next to Australia to travel the world for one year, just like us. They shared their compartment with the most pleasant Russian couple and we ended up playing Uno, emptying a bottle of Vodka and eating local sweets. This was the train life we had come to Russia to experience. Meeting Julie and Antoinne turned out to be one of the best human encounters we had that month. We met them again in Irkutsk to celebrate Julie's birthday and spent two nights sharing thoughts about our travel experiences, both in and outside Russia.

At this point it seems like you should have gotten quite a good picture of our journey through the biggest country on earth. However, there are still some aspects missing. To make a long story whole without boring you with the detailed description of every little thing that happened, let me round this off by listing some additional anecdotes and thoughts:

Russian sights are mostly located in Moscow and St. Petersburg and overrun with tourists. We visited some of them (Kremlin, Red Square and St. Basil's Cathedral in Moscow, Hermitage in St. Petersburg, to only name a few) and it was medium fun. They really should reduce the number of tourists to make this experience more enjoyable. Out of Moscow and St. Petersburg most cities have a cathedral, a few churches, a statue of Lenin, one or two Soviet monuments and some museums (which will most likely not have English translations for the Cyrillic inscriptions). After a while it all looked the same and we tried to get out of the cities as often as possible.

Our first highlight was visiting Suzdal in Russia's so-called Golden Ring. This countryside region is located about 50km from Moscow and features a beautiful landscape, well-kept churches and pretty wooden houses. The guide book said that the area had been bypassed by the 20st century altogether - a more than accurate description. If you ever come to Russia, be sure to visit this place!

Our second highlight was spending three days on Olkhon, a breathtakingly beautiful island in the middle of Lake Baikal. After spending most of our time visiting the cities of Nizhny Novgorod, Ekaterinburg, Novosibirsk and Irkutsk it felt thoroughly good to be out in the country. Luckily we stayed at a place outside the main (and only) village and thus managed to avoid the island's tourism mayhem. Plus we didn't go on a weekend and the weather forecast hadn't promised anything too good. In the end the weather turned out to be a lot better than expected and we spent three days walking through landscpaes that featured endless fields, foggy forests, rough cliffs and close-to-inaccessible bays and beaches. A mix of Ireland, Scotland, Portugal and France, all reachable on a one-day-tour. And with its shores and waves Lake Baikal looked like an ocean rather than a sweetwater lake. But be prepared: Staying on Olkhon Island means not having access to any luxuries. There are no streets, no regular toilets and hardly any products on the only supermarket's shelves.

Just as these experiences suggest, the Russian countryside beared some surprises and maybe even treasures. Another example was when our couch surfing host Gennady took us out of Novosibirsk and into the city's suburbs where he was born. After walking through some forest we suddenly found ourselves standing on a huge beach looking at a full-sized lake. It was 30° that day and the place was packed with people in bathing suites eating ice cream. That we wouldn't have expected to see in the middle of Siberia.

Are the cities along the Trans-Siberian Route interesting to visit, too? Kind of. More or less. Maybe. Should they be on your list of places to see before you die? Well… Nevertheless, we have to say that Russia's cities were kept exceptionally clean - close to spotless even. Anywhere we went there was somebody with a broom or mop and a bucket of water.

Russian cuisine means cooking anything with potatoes and meat and making it Russian by adding loads of dill. Oh, and dumplings.

Insight of the month:
Phil: "Wouldn't it be cool to be somewhere on a beach where the sun is shining?"
Lea: "Yes. But now we are here instead."

Was backpacking in Russia really as unpleasant as suggested by some of the thoughts expressed in this post? Well, it wasn't unpleasant. But it was not nearly as surprising, spectacular or crazy as we had imagined. After thinking about this for a while we came to a simple conclusion: in Iran, Azerbaijan, Georgia and Turkey we had gotten into contact with either locals or fellow travellers. This was what turned our journey through these countries into a long-lasting and memorable experience. In Russia, on the other hand, we hardly came into contact with locals. And the majority of the tourists were organised in (mostly Asian) travel groups who kept to themselves. This led to Lea and me establishing a pretty standard day-to-day-life among ourselves. Apart from the constant moving-around and the Russian scenery this life wasn't too different from the one we had lived back in Hamburg on a duty-free weekend. If backpacking in Russia and riding the Trans-Siberian Railway have taught us anything, it's that we need to meet other people instead of only moving from one sight to the next.