Jake on a Jaunt

Posted from Norfolk, Canada.

And now for something completely different.

My very special lady, artist/photographer Meghan Sims recently painted a stunning picture for me as a gift to welcome me home. She informed me that she was inspired by a photograph I took in Kiev while walking with my cousin Pavlo and his girlfriend Yaroslava at night. Here is the original photograph I took while Yaroslava was walking in front of Pavlo and myself.

And here is what she painted:

Needless to say, I was floored. Thank you so much. I will treasure it always and I can honestly say, I am pretty humbled that my amateur photographs could inspire such a beautiful painting.

-Jake

Posted from Norfolk, Canada.

Hello everyone. I am finally starting to kick this jet-lag and have my computer back online, so let’s get story-telling!

First and foremost, don’t forget to check out my picture/video pages. I have two new videos up (one from Berlin and one from the Trans-Siberian) and more new pictures than I can count. I also managed to find/remember a cache of pictures I stashed on one of my flash memory cards, so as soon as I sort through them, I’ll put them up too! Enjoy and let me know what you think, either here or on Facebook. If you don’t like it, let me know how I can make it better! I have more videos coming down the pipe as soon as I can figure out how to edit/combine them. Anyone an expert on video editing here?

When I last started posting about my trip, I was just about to go explore the city of Xi’an, which is the capital of Shannxi Province, located in the interior of the People’s Republic of China. After a brief nap to counter the result of the recent overnight trade ride where sleep/rest does not come easily, I ventured out into Xi’an with my two new comrades (Rulian from Brazil and Simon from New Zealand) to meet my couch-surfing guide named Meng.

We met Meng at our hostel and followed her into the heart of the city by foot. The first thing we noticed as that we (Westerners) were a bit of a novelty in this part of China. It was hard not to smile as Chinese citizens would stop and stare at us for a few seconds (perhaps with a comment or two between themselves) before continuing on their way. As we strolled, we chatted about our histories (Meng was a student in Singapore but on holiday and back home in Xi’an – for her photo check my Xi’an pictures) and when we discovered her favorite place for dining was closed, we wandered over to the Muslim quarter in town, not far from our hostel, to see what we could find. Meng took us to a restaurant that had pork-soup filled dumplings that were quite tasty. We were interested how they got the soup inside the dumplings themselves and Meng explained the soup is frozen and placed inside. The steaming trays the dumplings are served on melt the soup inside their containers and provide for one superb snack. After our bellies were full, we sauntered aimlessly through the Muslim quarter enjoying the flashy neon lights and row after row of food stalls/trinket sellers while dodging the throngs of people/dangerously fast bicycles/motorbikes. We even stopped to get some meat on a stick (yes, skewered lamb/beef on a stick) which we made sure was cooked thoroughly in front of us. Check out the latest video under the video page to get an idea!

That evening, Simon returned to the hostel while Rulian and I went with Meng to the main park complex in Xi’an. The park complex (Communists love their public spaces) was about four different parks all centered around the main Buddhist pagoda in town called the Panda Pagoda. In the evenings, the largest of the parks puts on a show with the extremely large fountain area contained inside of it. Check out my Xi’an photos to get an idea of what I mean. The park complex itself is massive and it was easy to kill time wandering around the green spaces before the fountain show started. The fountain show itself was nothing too remarkable but was a series of different colored lights/alternating streams of water all timed to classical as well as famous Chinese songs that blared through speakers at the edge of the park. However, the experienced was largely ruined by the throngs of Chinese posing in front of the water jets. The area where the water jets are spouting is clearly marked as “do not enter” but small things like signs do not cause Chinese citizens to waver when it comes to something as important as their picture posing. Large amounts of them poured into the restricted areas to get pictures in front of the variously timed streams of water. What did make us laugh however is that one or two of them would get too close to the shooting water and misstep or forgetting the jet’s timing and would often taken the consequence of their actions square in the face. It was hard not to giggle at that.

After the show, Meng returned home and Rulian and I retired to the hostel. After we returned, I met the newest arrival to our dormitory room, a gentlemen named Alex who was a Russian/Israeli. It was early in the morning, but we both stayed up late talking as he had also just finished his adventure on the Trans-Siberian, but had gone through Mongolia (The Trans-Manchurian) on his way to China. When he heard that I had done the entire length of the rail in third class he was somewhat surprised and asked if I was insane. When I asked why he thought I was daft, he said that third class can be a dangerous place for a Westerner whose knowledge in the Russian language was minimal. I told him I had few if any problems and all he could he say was that I was one lucky individual. Alex turned out to be a former scout-sniper in the Israeli army, so I knew that he was someone I should pay attention to. By the time we headed for bed, we had made plans to see the Terracotta Army the next day.

The next morning after breakfast, Alex, Rulian and myself were off to see the Terracotta warriors outside the city of Xi’an. Instead of booking a tour through our hostel, we learned from a few other hostel patrons that all we had to do was catch a bus from outside the city’s train station and it would take us right to our destination. The tour was roughly 250 yuan while the bus ride there and back was only 14 yuan. We decided to go with the bus and learned that it was an extremely easy and a much more expedient option as we met the tour from our hostel at the Terracotta complex and we had left an hour later. We also found out that we could gain entrance to the complex at a discounted rate if we claimed we were students. I used my old Waterloo student ID which worked and I thought I was pretty savvy for having used it. However, Rulian just showed them his deep-water diving license and also got the student discount… we had to laugh at that.

The Terracotta Museum itself was an expansive complex. After passing all the restaurants/hawkers (you buy, yes?) to get to the main entrance, we learned the Terracotta Army was based in three massive excavated pits. We started with the grandest of the three pits and were pretty awed/stunned by the sight of it. Around the massive pit containing the rows upon rows of the remnants of a giant, clay army was a walk-way were you could walk the entire perimeter of the completed excavation. After reading the various captions available for tourists and snapping a few pictures, we headed to the respective second and third centers. The other pits were not as impressive. Pit two was still in the process of being excavated and only contained a few broken clay warriors and a scattering of empty holes. However, in the second pit complex were Terracotta Warriors and various relics behind glass and we were able to get very close to them to make out their intricate details, weapons and armor. The third pit was also under excavation, but mostly contained the heart of the museum. There were many displays showing the history of the complex as well as outlining what has been found to this day. Not only the warriors have been discovered, but also pits containing clay horses/chariots, clay workshops, armories, currency workshops and other essentials the first Emperor of China believed he would need in the afterlife. The way I described the entire complex was an Egyptian Pyramid on steroids. Check out my pictures and decide for yourself.

After around three hours of walking around, it was getting later in the day so we decided to head back. We took the same bus back into town (it was still waiting there… we must have been lucky on the times) and retraced our steps to get back to the hostel. That evening, our roommate from New Zealand, Simon decided to take us back to the Muslim quarter for dinner. Simon was a Mandarin Major in university and was in China to continue his studies. Therefore, his knowledge of the language was downright amazing. He took us to a local restaurant where we dined on a bowl of rice soup with various flavorings and vegetables where he ordered the entire meal in Chinese. He even read the Chinese menu for us! Needless to say, he was our guide for the rest of the evening as we picked out more meat on a stick (it was fantastically good) and washed it all down with plastic cups of pure sugar-cane juice that Rulian swore by. While tasty, I’m pretty sure I was shaking later with a glucose overdose. After returning back to the hostel and having a few libations with our group, we all came up with the fantastic idea of journeying to a local night-club with a Canadian-Chinese girl we met at the hostel as well as our language-speaking New Zealander guide.

The next day however, would be my undoing. However, I will save my food poisoning story for the next post. I will warn you in advance though, it was not a pretty sight nor a pleasant few days.

Thanks to all my friends and family for welcoming me back. Hope you guys enjoy the last of my China stories.

-Jake

Posted from Norfolk, Canada.

Back in Canada.

Shortly, I will post a few more China stories and details about the trip back, but just wanted to let all my readers know I am back in the country of my birth and I’m still kicking. I spent the last couple days recovering with my special Lady (jet lag always gets the best of me) and am now back living with the folks until I can get myself back on my feet.

Check out the new pictures (there is a LOT of them) I’ve uploaded. Videos to come as soon as I can embed them to Youtube. If you want to get a hold of me for any reason, Facebook is back up and running Up yours, PRC.

By the way, the picture at the top is the coastline of North Korea as seen from China. Pretty spiffy!

-Jake

Just writing really quickly before I take the metro to Pudong, International Airport in Shanghai to catch my flight back to the World. I’ll finish recounting the rest of my adventure stories when I am home when I have more time on my hands than I can handle. Not only will there be more stories, but an epilogue to how I am dealing with being home as well as a detailed account of how I felt about what I experienced. Also, expect months worth of choice pictures and I have hours of video as well I need to edit. When I get back to Canada, the real work will begin it seems.

Leaving China has left me with a bittersweet feeling. While I am excited to get back home, this is the end of the longest journey of my life and probably the longest distance I will ever travel. My father said it best to me last night ‘a fitting end to a grand jaunt’ and what a jaunt it has been.

Thank you again to all my loyal readers and followers. I hope this has been as entertaining for you to read as it was for me to experience and write about. I’ll be back in Canada in the next forty-eight hours, so please do not hesitate to reach me if you want to get together and catch up. Also, I’ll have my Facebook back up and running, so you can always reach me there.

Thank you again everyone. I hope one day I will be able to put my deepest gratitude for your support into words. This is not the end, but merely the beginning of a new, more introspective chapter of ‘Jake on a Jaunt.’

-Jake

Happy New Year! I am writing this on New Year’s Eve from Shanghai, China, so I just wanted to wish my fantastic readers a splendid 2012 and that I can not wait to tell everyone of you all about my adventures in the next few days. I will be home in approximately four days, so not much longer now. This will be not a long post, as I have to go get ready to ring in the New Year in what promises to be a very interesting evening.

So when I left you last I was off to sleep early for an early start towards the Great Wall of China. The next morning around 0500, I woke my friend from Singapore and we were the first to board the tour bus. It was a smaller type short-bus and by the time we picked everyone up from various hostel/hotels around the city, it was jammed packed. We got a measly breakfast of McDonalds (breakfast of champions I say) and were at the wall in about three hours which passed by quite quickly as I spent the morning talking to an Australian and an American I had befriended during the ride.

The Wall has been my highlight of China. To start, it was a gorgeous, sunny/clear morning and quite brisk weather-wise. After a brief introduction about the section of the Wall that we were seeing, we climbed the side of a steep hill towards the Wall itself and entered the main Wall area through a side entrance. It was a real hard hike and I was pretty winded (even with all my walking and new found leg strength) after that first jaunt. However, from this juncture, the climb would prove increasingly more difficult. The section of the wall we were seeing was one of the oldest and least-restored parts of the Great Wall. The stairs from tower to tower were precariously steep and the rocks that formed them were loose, slippery from wear and some were even missing. One misstep or second of lax concentration meant a dangerous fall, or at best a turned ankle. Some young German boys in our tour group steamed ahead (German efficiency I remarked) so I was not about to let them show me up, so I plowed on.

After about an hour and a half of stairs and screaming calf muscles, we reached one of the main towers that was the highest point for this particular section of the wall. For those of us that made it this far (many others in our group lagged behind or turned back) we were rewarded with a spectacular view of the entire section of the wall. I sat down with the German boys that had arrived before me and we shared a drink they had brought with them and exchanged words about the beauty of what were beholding. After a few minutes of enjoying the view, we were on our way back the way we came to partake in a quick lunch then head back on the bus into town. The entire process on the Wall took about four hours, not including lunch and I’ll admit at the end of it, I was sweaty (despite the cold) and exhausted. I ended up sleeping the majority of the ride back.

By the time I had gotten back, I had just enough time to pack my bag and head towards the West Beijing Train Station. Since it was close to 1700 and traffic was at a crawl (as usual) it took me a solid hour to get there and I feared I would be late. I arrived with a few minutes to spare and boarded the train just on time. As I sorted myself out in my compartment (soft sleeper again this time) I met a Mexican gentlemen who was looking for his compartment/bed as it was the first train he had taken in China. After offering my expertise/assistance, we got to talking. Turns out he was a Doctor (Phd) who specialized in Parkinson’s and related diseases and had just finished being a guest-speaker at a huge conference on the related subject in Beijing. I realized this was a seriously educated man, so after we exchanged pleasantries/courtesies, I picked his mind about the economic/criminal situation in Mexico. He told me that he had known many politicians personally in Mexico and said I reminded him of one. I did not know whether I should have been honored or offended. We talked for awhile longer before a younger Chinese guy heard us speaking English and stopped outside the compartment to ask where we were from. After exchanging further pleasantries, we discovered he was an engineering student who had just gotten his student visa to study in the United States. While he was only eighteen years of age, he was one really big dude and reminded me of one my Chinese friends from high school. After a social gathering lasting a couple hours, we all retired to our respective compartments.

The next morning, I was awoken by my stern, unsmiling female conductor about an hour before the train was due to arrive. She must have been one hard woman, because not even my patented, winning smile could seem to phase her. After the train arrived and I had wished good-bye to my new friends, I found someone holding a sign outside the station with the name of my hostel on it and remembered they offered free rides into town. While walking to the awaiting bus, I quickly made friends with a fellow named Julian from Brazil who would be my companion for the next few days. After checking in, we met a Mandarin-speaker from New Zealand (he had majored in the language in University) who was staying in the same dormitory as us. After booking my ticket to my next (and current) destination of Shanghai, we all decided to enjoy lunch together and find out more about each other since we were all staying in the same room. That afternoon, I was contacted by a couch-surfer named Meng who offered to show us around town later that evening, so after a brief nap, we all headed out to see what Xi’an had to offer.

However, it is getting late here and this Cat needs to go get ready to enjoy his evening. Hope everyone of you has a fantastic/memorable New Year’s Eve celebration tonight and an even better year to come. Happy New Year!

-Jake

Posted from Shanghai, China.

First and foremost: Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all my readers and followers. If you have been faithful adherents to this insane endeavour of mine, you have my absolute sincerest thanks. I wish you all the best to you and yours around this holiday season. Secondly, I apologize again for my lack of updates up to this point. Since I left Xi’an (where I posted last) and headed to Shanghai (where I am now) I suffered through one of the worst bouts of food poisoning I have ever experienced and was incapacitated for a couple days… but have no fear my readers, I am on the clear path to recovery.

When I left you last, I had just caught the last train to Beijing leaving from Dandong, China, located just across the border from North Korea. The only bed left available was in first class, so I decided to spend a little extra and experience what a soft-sleeper car was like. Needless to say, it was a worthy investment. Instead of six beds, it was only four, which were leagues softer and came with much better pillows and blankets. Further, the residents of first class were more dignified Chinese citizens, so I witnessed considerably less abhorrent behavior (please refer to last post) The compartments also had doors, which made for a quieter environment and an overall better sleep/experience. However, compartments were for sleeping and I was still quite restless/active and went off to see what interesting things I could discover on my ride.

During my walk through the train wagons and after buying a few local beverages from the train’s wandering food cart, a Chinese man noticed me attempting English/Mandarin with a wagon conductor. He immediately asked where I was from and upon hearing the words “Canada” he immediately warmed up to me. His name was Hao and he was a Communist Party government civil servant that worked with the Ministry of the Environment. After hearing that, I joked that he definitely had his work cut out for him. We stood there together between the train cars and talked for the next few hours. He asked a lot of questions about Canada, our education system, how students find jobs/pay for school, our system of government, what I think of Canada/China, what are my favorite foods at home etc. To say the least, it was a lengthy and interesting conversation that tested my ability to be diplomatic but at the same time be able to maintain my long-standing beliefs and opinions. If you can understand the stature of the individual I was talking to, you will understand what I mean. Before long, I had noticed the train-ride was passing quickly and after exchanging information, we both retired for the evening.

The next morning after a welcome sleep and during a very thin cup of coffee (its the land of tea, not coffee I am realizing) I watched as we pulled into the outskirts of China’s capital city; Beijing. I departed one of the city’s colossal train stations (you really notice the rampant overcompensation-style architecture in China) and found a taxi line-up. You discover very quickly that Beijing has a considerable shortage of available taxis especially during peak times in the morning and afternoon. The queue for a taxi took roughly an hour and the process was noticeably cut-throat. Chinese citizens often disregarded the line altogether and cut into it as well as laughably jumped in taxis that others had already put their luggage into. The complete disregard for decency and respect for their fellow countrymen was baffling to say the least, but since I had nowhere to go quickly (and had found a decent cup of coffee in the station) I just watched the chaotic mess unfold and did my best to hold my tongue when people jumped the line. After a long, chilly wait, I basically body-checked a guy trying to steal my cab and got a ride to my hostel.

However, just getting a cab did not mean a fast ride. The traffic in Beijing is beyond horrendous. Try to imagine Toronto traffic during peak hours and everyone is driving as if their playing a game of Grand Theft Auto. It was another few kilometers and a long (albeit warm) wait until I reached my hostel. After a quick walk down an alleyway (Hutong in Chinese) I had reached my courtyard hostel and checked in. It was a gorgeous place not far from downtown Beijing, but still was very quiet and had a lovely character that made it feel like a sanctuary in what was a very busy, noisy and largely dirty city. Around noon that day, after unsuccessfully attempting to access my website, I made my way into town via the city’s Metro towards Tienanmen Square and Beijing’s Forbidden City.

The metro in Beijing is the only way to travel the city. While always packed to the rafters inside with Chinese, the system itself is kept very clean and the trains all run on time. Furthermore, most stations and directions are broadcast in the English language, which is extremely conducive to getting around. All this and it only costs two Yuan (about .25c Canadian) to go anywhere in the entire system… pretty slick. I got to the station outside Tienanmen quickly and walked my way towards the Forbidden City just north of the square (past the big, smiling picture of Mao) on what was a beautiful, sunny day.

The Forbidden City itself is a massive area. After passing through the various gates and dodging the numerous people selling you rubbish as well asking if you need a guide/tour etc, you enter the south-gate of the main complex. Inside their are numerous palaces (around twenty-six to be exact) as well as various statues, signs highlighting certain areas/sites in English/Chinese, numerous staircases and various buildings you can enter or just peer into. However, the entire complex is teeming with Chinese. While I could imagine the complex to be quite tranquil and peaceful back in its day, at present there were Chinese citizens posing in front of everything they could take a picture of. I have never seen so many cheesy/solemn poses in all my life and every time I wanted to take a picture of something, someone was invariably walking in front of me. I eventually gravitated towards the eastern side of the complex which contained the Palace of Treasures which was my highlight of the complex. Inside their were the various artworks/gifts that the various dynasties had created/received over generations and they were quite impressive. There were huge jade sculptures, golden statues, diamond studded globes containing the constellations and other intricate pieces that were fascinating to observe. After a total of three hours walking the City’s grounds and it’s elaborate gardens, I exited the North Gate a few minutes before the entire complex was due to close for the day.

From the Forbidden City, I walked westwards towards Be’hai Park, which is one of Beijing’s largest and best known public parks. However, it is not a park how you would imagine it, it was a massive grounds that was surrounded by a half-frozen body of water. Since it was getting dark (and considerably colder) the park itself was less populated and quite picturesque as Beijing’s infamous pollution made for a gorgeous sunset across the park’s large lake. The few Chinese that were present in the park I had noticed were doing exercises. However, they were not the Western forms of exercise you might be imagining, or even Tai’Chi, but what what I have dubbed the “Chinese Ministry of Silly-Walks.” Chinese citizens (mostly elderly) go for a walk, but do so with elongated steps, exaggerated muscle movements, swinging their arms or legs wildly or walk with their hands in the air shaking them like a pair of ‘jazzy-hands.’ I later discovered this is a traditional form of Chinese exercise and is quite popular/common to assist in blood flow and cardiovascular health, but it made me giggle nonetheless.

Darkness fell quickly and I had a rough time getting back to my hostel. Since traffic was at its peak, buses were crawling slowly (and I began to wonder if they actually existed at stops) and available cabs were virtually non-existent. I eventually found a city map that designated where the nearest metro station was… at least a few kilometers away. I urged my aching legs on past mounds of road-side garbage, clouds of noxious fumes caused by seas of idling vehicles, rivers of discarded cooking oil (oh yeah, poured right in the street) and more hocking/spitting/throat-clearers than I could count in my lifetime. Outside of the main parks and attractions, Beijing can be a pretty filthy city. It was late by the time I returned back and before long was having a free Friday dinner provided by the hostel in the company of an American English-teacher and a couple of vacationing Australians.

During our evening gathering, I met a guy from Switzerland. While having a chat, he asked me if I was from Simcoe, Ontario, Canada. I could not believe my ears, how did he know my hometown? Turns out the Swiss guy I was talking to was actually named Marc and had lived with my family and myself for three months (nine years ago) when my sister had done a rotary exchange in Switzerland. I was absolutely dumbfounded. Here we both were nine years later (in China of all places) and had happened to run into each other. The quote “its a small world” did not even begin to define my shocking astonishment at our chance meeting. We immediately began catching up on our last nine years. Marc was now a professional piano-player (I remember him jazzing away on our family’s piano) and was travelling with his girlfriend, Velanique who also new my sister. He’d finished school studying piano works/playing and was still living in Switzerland. However, he had just arrived in Beijing and was still jet-lagged beyond comprehension so I let him retire and did so myself shortly afterward.

The next day after a well-needed rest, I ventured into the city with Marc and Velanique to a popular Beijing art-district called the “798 Art Zone” (check it out on Wikipedia) It was on the edge of the city and after some metro/bus rides, we arrived to walk around. It was a truly unique section of town that was located next to an industrial complex. Throughout the district there was a maze of industrial pipes and shafts with liquid leaking out of them as well as steam pipes making high-pitched noises as various quantities of gases were released. However, located in this bizarre maze were artists workshops with free exhibitions. We languorously walked to and from various showrooms appreciating artworks (paintings, sculpture, script, modern/contemporary works) as well as perused the local shops and cafes. We chatted and played the tourist for the majority of the afternoon before venturing back into the city before the traffic had a chance to turn from bad to downright hellacious.

Marc and Velanique returned to the hostel to get ready for their train-ride that night while I headed towards the city’s Olympic Park. I discovered (to my dismay) that the metro right into the Olympic park was not in use. So I stopped at the nearest station and hiked a good few kilometers (over a busy highway) towards the Olympic grounds. While the park itself was grandiose in nature, it was largely unimpressive. However, the two most notable buildings were not. Both the Water Cube (swimming pool) and the Bird’s Nest (main arena) were lit up at night and made for some excellent photos. I snapped quite a few (dodging the throngs of Chinese snapping photos and people selling you junk; there is no escaping them) before walking back to the station with two girls who asked if I could escort them back to the closest metro. Being the gentlemen I am, I accepted and they made the walk back (even with my screaming leg muscles) much more enjoyable.

I arrived back at the hostel where my new friends and I all decided to go for dinner. We went to a local place within walking distance for a great meal of various dishes with the most notable being Peking Duck. The communal style of food-serving really appealed to all of us as we were famished after a long day of walking to various sights and we quickly dived in. Stuffed for the first time in awhile, we all retired back to the hostel for continued conversations about our travels, lives, hopes and aspirations. This is my favorite and the best part of traveling in my experience, learning about the lives and personalities of so many different individuals from across the planet.

The next day, after breakfast and meeting some new hostel occupants, Sam (The American English-teacher living in China) and I decided that we would try our hands at the popular markets (Pearl Market and Silk Market) in the city. After entering them, you immediately notice how aggressive the Chinese merchants can be. As soon as they see the ‘Lowai’ you get about a thousand offers for business coming at you from all directions “Hey you, I give you best price!”, “Come look in my store, maybe you want handbag?” “You buy, you buy watches!”, “Silk scarf for you? Or perhaps wife?” They are on you hard and I can honestly say, I have never felt so hounded in all my life and it can be a little overwhelming. I scanned through the various items and bought myself a few. The most notable being a new cell-phone cover for my phone. The merchant wanted 150 Yuan for it and I bargained him down to 30. The key here is to bargain hard and just walk away when they won’t come down further in price because as soon as you turn the leave, the price halves instantly. Also, don’t feel bad that you paid less… they wouldn’t sell it to you if they weren’t making some sort of profit. This process took the majority of the afternoon and afterwards (the hounding, the bargaining and the walking) it felt as if you had been hiking the entire day. That night Sam and I as well as a young doctor from Singapore (Glenn) and a girl from Switzerland (Noemie) dined at a Sichuan restaurant (my new favorite) that was known to Sam. It turned out to be a great, unique and wonderfully spicy meal. That night, I was early to bed, because the next morning I had to awake early (0530) for my trip to China’s famous Great Wall before having to catch my train that same evening to the city of Xi’an. However, I will save that bit of my adventure for the next update.

I mentioned earlier that I had myself a good round of food poisoning. So as not to leave you in too much suspense (I’ll save the details for later) it hit me squarely on the train ride from Xi’an to Shanghai. Needless to say, it was probably the worst train ride of my life to this point… at best it was an extremely horrible evening that days later, I recall as if it was a really bad nightmare. I arrived in Shanghai as yellow as a banana and took the next two days to recover. I am feeling just about 100% now, but for two days before Christmas, I was one sick dude. Only through the kindness of other travelers, a decent hostel and trying to maintain positive have I recovered.

-Jake

Posted from Xi'an, China.

First of all, let me apologize for not posting recently. The Internet here in China has been spotty at best and downright frustrating at worst. Sometimes I can access my website and other times it has been completely blocked. Sometimes I can not even access my Gmail. I have no idea if this is due to the “Great Fire-Wall of China” but I have a sneaking suspicion it is. So let me just say it: Grow up, PRC. (People’s Republic of China) Thankfully, I have been writing a lot of notes, so I have most of my details archived.

So when I left you last, I was just about to leave the cavernous train-station in Harbin on my way to Dalian. After joining the massive line-up for my train to Dalian (everywhere in this country there are just too many people and monstrous waiting times) I eventually made it to my train wagon and compartment. The trains are a little different than in Russia. Instead of having six beds in three groups of two, it is just three beds side-by-side and small fold-up seats on the opposite wall of the train. Also, the aisles through the wagons are much larger… even though the people are smaller. A little bit of irony. Thankfully, my bed was the one on the bottom (the best one) while the space available for the bed at the very top of the triple bunk is small even for Asians… so insanely small by Western standards. However, at least the triple bunks have ladders so no gymnastics skills are needed. The wagons themselves are connected by a hallway without doors, just an open area you can walk through. However, in the Russian trains, smokers can enjoy their habit at the ends of the wagon car enclosed by doors, except Chinese trains lack those crucial doors.. so the smoke just wafts right into the wagon. Great. Further, I thought the toilets in Russian trains were bad… however Chinese toilets are just squat-holes in the floor and are about ten times as filthy. The Chinese also don’t seem to believe in flushing, so now I finally understand why Singapore has so many punishable fines for things Westerners would deem very silly .. because its necessary.

On this journey, my questionable “train-luck” continued. The bed opposite mine contained and old Chinese man who appeared to have a horrible cough, except he didn’t seem to believe in covering his mouth… yuck. I immediately vacated my seat to avoided being covered in old Chinese man germs and sat at the opposite wall. As the train started, he immediately went to bed and started to snore profusely… just my luck again. He must have had some sort of illness as his snoring was sporadic and extremely loud for such a tiny person. I eventually got tired of listening to this, so went for a walk to see what the rest of the train was like. Like Russian trains, most people seemed to be enjoying various foods, drinks or just playing cards. There are three types of classes. Hard seat (third class), Hard-sleeper, (second class, the one I was in) and Soft-sleepers (first class). The hard sleepers are as I described, while the soft sleepers are better beds and there are only four of them in a closed compartment. The hard-seats… well, they’re about as close to the edge of hell as you can get. Third class is just three seats next to three other seats. So picture six seats across packed full of people with every available space crammed with luggage, bags of whatever and food products. Also, there is a payment for the seat itself… or you can stand. That means there are people sitting as well as every available space crammed to the gills with standing Chinese. Some stood for upwards of fifteen hours! Often they sleep on the floor, on top of each other, in the space inbetween the wagons and under the seats themselves. Wherever they can find a place. Its an absolute nightmare that I got to see from afar, but thankfully have not experienced yet.

I headed back to my wagon and stripped off the majority of my clothes. The wagon itself was hotter than Russian trains (which I could not believe was possible) and I was burning up. I bought a couple beverages, did my best to cool down and started writing in my journal in the seat opposite the compartment. As I was writing, I noticed the man at the top bunk had started coughing something fierce and was clearing his throat loudly. He then grabbed a piece of tissue from his pocket, hocked a massive one in it… and then just threw the tissue on the floor right next to my bed. I nearly threw up in my mouth. I grabbed my shoe and kicked the discarded faux-pas underneath the bed of the sleeping man next to me… Welcome to China. This was just one of the truly disgusting acts I would witness during my stay here. Eventually the lights in the wagon were turned out, so I retired to bed.

The next morning, I was up very early and watched as the train pulled into Dalian, a coastal city in China. Grabbing my things, I wandered out of the train station into a taxi line. After a small wait and with some difficulty by my driver, I found my hostel, checked in and immediately hit the sack. The mattress was thin as paper, so since I was the only one in my six-bed dorm, I grabbed another mattress from the bed next to mine and tossed it onto my bed which made it significantly more comfortable. Genius. Around noon I woke up and decided to walk into town. Dalian is a smaller city (only a few million people, seems any city here under a million is a small town) which made it easier to just walk into the center. I made my way through the city’s main squares and towards the main plaza in town called “Victory Plaza.” Since I had heard Dalian was the “Hong Kong of the North”, I walked through the various famous shopping malls underneath Victory Plaza and perused the wares before heading back to my hostel.

That night I ended up recieving a message from a couch-surfer in town who was able to meet me for dinner. I have had some poor luck in China with being hosted by couch-surfers, but a few have been kind enough to meet me for a least a few hours. Shortly after I got the message, I called him up and he met me at my hostel. His name was Yuan Cheng and we decided to get a pizza together at a popular western-style restaurant in town. While we only met for a few hours, Yuan was a pleasure. He was the same age as me, but was a pharmacist of Chinese-medicine in Dalian and he lived with his fiancee. He dreamed of traveling like I have and asked me a lot about my experiences as well as quite a few questions about Canada. Further, he also asked me what I thought of China, his country’s government as well as its people. With my knowledge of political science, I did my absolute best to be as diplomatic as possible while at the same time attempting to find out what he thought of his government, his fellow countrymen and what his image of Canada was. Needless to say, the hours flew by and before long he told me had better get home to his wife-to-be.

The next day, on the advice of Mr. Cheng, I decided to walk along the ocean coast-line south of Dalian. I ended up getting a bus to a popular park in the city (Xiang Park) on the far south western side of the peninsula and walked for about four hours straight east within sight of the water. This was by far my highlight of Dalian. The coast-line was stunningly beautiful (the weather was sunny and clear) and the walk took me along various elevations which made for excellent scenic pictures. Also, since it was the winter, the beaches were virtually deserted except for a few Chinese men I noticed taking quick dips in the absolutely frigid water… crazy. However, I learned that in the summer-time, the beaches are so populated you literally can not walk sideways.The large amount of closed-up shops, boutiques and stands I noticed next to the beach were obviously evidence of this, so I was quite glad I got to see the beaches when they were largely deserted. After what seemed like a marathon of a walk, I grabbed a taxi back to town.

I noticed another couch-surfer from England named Russell had left a message in my inbox and had invited me out to dinner with himself as well as his expatriate friends that evening. I accepted and he sent me the address of the restaurant. That evening, I took a taxi to what he said was a popular sichuan restaurant in town. While I did not immediately notice Russell in the restaurant, I noticed another “lowai” (Chinese for ‘Foreigner’) entering and asked if he was Russell. It was actually his friend, Warren (a fellow from the States) but he guided me upstairs to where they were all going to meet. There I met Russell as well as large group of his friends from various Western countries who were either teaching English, learning Chinese or attending post-secondary education in China. The meal itself was fantastic. The sichuan-style of food is the spiciest in all of Chinese cuisine and according to most Chinese, their absolute favorite. The conversation with the various students/teachers revolved around their lives up to today, their lives at home, the upcoming trips home for the holidays and a few even asked me about my travels. Before long, many decided to retire for the night and I headed back to my hostel after extending many thanks for their invitation to what was a fantastic evening.

The next morning I was off to Dandong, which is China’s border city with North Korea. While the city itself is nothing special, the bridge in the city that connects the country of China with North Korea is the pariah-regime’s number one lifeline. China is North Korea’s largest trading partner and the majority of goods that prop up the reclusive regime from collapse cross that bridge every day. Naturally, I had to see it so before long I was on a four hour bus ride towards the border.

As my bus arrived, I met another couch-surfer who I had contacted on very short notice named Nancy who was a house-wife and mother of one in Dandong. She helped me get a train ticket for that evening which ended up being the last ticket available for the train to Beijing. I had a few hours in Dandong, so while chatting about Chinese history, we walked in the direction of the river that separates North Korea from China. The famous bridge I mentioned earlier you cannot enter (well, I didn’t try) but there is another bridge that runs parallel to it that only extends halfway across the river separating the two countries… the other half was bombed by the Americans during the Korean war. I walked along what was known as “the broken bridge” and snapped quite a few photos of North Korea on the other side. Standing at the end of the bridge, which was technically in the middle of the river, you begin to notice an extremely stark contrast in relation to the two coast-lines. The Chinese coast is full of twinkling lights, moving cars and towering skyscrapers, while the North Korean coast is devoid of practically any lights and looks as if it is a ghost-town. There are no people (apparently, they were all evacuated away from the coast so they could not see how much better life is in China) and it does not look like anything is moving at all. I said a quick “Hope you get whats coming to you Mr. Kim” (in not so many polite words though) underneath my breath and walked back down the bridge with Nancy towards town. Three days later and Kim Jong-Il bites the dust. Coincidence? I’d like to think my power of suggestion is stronger than that.

After it became dark, Nancy took me to a popular street in town that contained mostly North Korean restaurants. She escorted me to one of her favorite and I treated both her and I to dinner. The food itself was nothing special (most bland chicken, cold vegetables and odd-tasting salads) but the rice soup that was served with the meal was spiced with ginseng and was quite tasty and filling. Nancy and I conversed about her life, her dreams, as well as her experience with other couch-surfers and how her life was in China/Dandong. She asked me a lot about Canada, my travels, as well as my family and what I thought of China. However, before long, I was wishing Nancy good-bye and thanking her for helping me before boarding my train to Beijing.

Beijing itself was quite a trip. I spent three nights and almost four days there before heading towards the city of Xi’an where I am now. However, since I have already written this much and I am fast running out of available Internet time here in my hostel, I’ll save that story for tomorrow. Until then.

-Jake

Posted from Dalian, China.

So when I last left you, I had just passed out briefly on the bus to Harbin, China before the first set of pot holes resulting in jaw-jarring jolts staggered me awake… good ol’ Russian roads. The bus itself was cramped (as usual) and smelled of cleaning fluid/various human odors. Think a Chinese tour bus if you took a very cheap tour (and I mean cheap) There were a group of around fifteen or so young Russian girls in the back of the bus who seemed to erupt in a chorus of giggles every five minutes and a Chinese man behind me who seemed to suffer from sleep apnea, which resulted in bouts of extreme snoring. I was in and out of sleep (briefly) as we trundled along, but soon we reached the Russian-Chinese border.

I found out from English speakers I met at one of the bus’s quick stops (a couple of Swiss, a couple Americans and some English-speaking Russians) the protocol for the border was to take your bags (everything) off the bus, stand in an obscenely long line, get everything checked through a scanner, get back on the bus, cross the border and repeat the entire process on the Chinese side. The Russian side was significantly more run down. The line took much longer to get through and was manned by some pretty shady-looking, bored Russian contract soldiers. On the Chinese side however, the building was much better maintained and manned by some smart-looking Chinese officials in very clean, crisp uniforms. Needless to say, it was not a morning to be running on only a few hours of sleep. I met a couple of English-speaking Russians (during the wait in between the border stops) who took a shine to me and shared some of their food with me (I hadn’t packed anything and was starving) but the majority of the morning was downright tedious. Also, for some reason the passport control officers (on both sides of the border) examined my passport with insane suspicion. They thumbed through every single page at least twice and checked it under a black-light numerous times. I suppose it is not every day a Canadian comes through.

Most of the Russians occupying the bus exited at the border. Apparently, they do not need a Visa to China if they are just shopping at the border city on the Chinese side. So the bus was less packed on the way to Harbin and I had two seats to myself. We passed through the border town quickly which was rife with shopping centers built from Stalinist concrete with a mix of Chinese characters added. I decided to sit near the group of English speakers I had met and inquired about their travels. It turns out they were non-denominational missionaries from all different countries. They too offered me some of their food (sandwiches and apples) so I felt obliged to listen about their “plan from God” which was to spread His word even in places such as China. They were rather nice folks and were not too preachy, but soon my lack of sleep was catching up with me.

I immediately noticed that the roads in China were much better maintained. The architecture in general was less shabby and the plains were much more wide open with designated plots for farming with the occasional mining/resource concern mixed in. In the distance there were towering mountains while the entire scene had a thin layer of snow covering it. The sun was shining bright and the bus warmed significantly which led to a fast asleep Jake in a very short time. I woke up outside a city and noticed a “Welcome to Harbin” sign which shook the sleep my from mind immediately. When the bus stopped a short while later, I had no idea where I was and the missionaries weren’t much help as they just bid me “good-bye” and grabbed the nearest taxi. I hadn’t a Chinese Sim card and no Chinese currency (I didn’t see an exchange at the border) and I couldn’t find an ATM to save my life. It was pretty chilly, so I just hiked up my rucksack and started walking in (what I thought) was the general direction of town.

It was getting darker and really cold, so I found what looked like a somewhat upper class hotel and went inside hoping somebody would speak English. Alas they did not, so I remembered my guidebook I “borrowed” from the hostel in Portugal and found my street and pointed to it. I remembered I wrote down the number to my hostel and showed it to their reception where they quickly understood and called my hostel and handed me the phone. My hostel owner explained that they (the hotel I was in) would write down the hostel address and I was to just show it to a taxi driver. Since I had no Yuan (the Chinese currency), through my experience in “charades” I somehow informed my taxi driver that I needed an ATM before I could pay him. We eventually found one (The Chinese Construction bank… it seems all banks are named after industries. The Construction bank, Agricultural bank, Communications bank, Merchants bank, People’s bank and ultimately, the Bank of China) I paid him (with a generous tip) and checked into my hostel.

My hostel was located in an old synagogue in town. Apparently, Harbin contained a large Jewish population during the times when the Russians owned this particular territory and there were a large amount of former Jewish centers (schools, shops etc) in town. However, now (in Atheist China) there are none. Still, it was a great building with an excellent character and I was quite pleased with it. After acquiring a Chinese Sim card and something to eat (the place I chose had big pictures of food, so I just pointed at what looked good) I met my dorm mates who were two Chinese guys (Sam and Lee, aged 23) from the south of China who were in town for their vacation. That night we watched the lunar eclipse together and since we were all exhausted from our day, fell asleep quite early. The mattress on my bed was razor thin, so I slept on my comforter provided (it was thicker than the mattress) to get some comfort. Even then, I woke with half my body seemingly paralyzed.

The next morning after a coffee and reading the (hilariously censored) English-version of the China Daily, I visited the largest Confucian temple in the north of China. Nobody was there and it was a quite peaceful and relaxing sanctuary in what was a rather noisy (and dirty) northern city. I then walked around the older Russian quarter part of the city, where a majority of the buildings have stood since the 19th century when the Russians claimed Harbin as their own. After, I strolled along the frozen river that borders the town and walked through a nearby park aptly named “Stalin Park” passing various monuments to past events/leading communists. I also strolled down the main shopping avenue (lots of Russian and Western stores) where many ice-sculptures were in the process of being built for the upcoming Winter Festival that is celebrated by most of China, but is most notable in Harbin. Most everywhere I took a taxi due to the fact they are very cheap. This being said, I finally understand why Asians are the craziest drivers on the planet. In China, they drive like you are playing a game of Grand Theft Auto. They never drive within the lines of the road, they change lines -constantly- without ever indicating, let alone checking their blind-spot, they use their horn every few seconds (seriously, horns are always blaring) and run red-lights repeatedly. On top of all this, the speed in which they drive is akin to a bat out of hell that is on fire. Numerous times I found myself laughing at the entire process because it was either that or be deathly terrified.

That night after booking my ticket out of town, I dined with my two new friends. For a pittance, we had a banquet of a Chinese meal (dumplings, chicken, tofu, beef, vegetables and drinks) that we shared over a great conversation. That night, we just hung out and chatted and inquired about each other’s lives and what we thought of our country’s, governments and way of life. The next day, after checking out I finally exchanged the last of my Russian roubles and took some various pictures of the city. I did my best to find people on couch-surfing for Dalian (my next destination) but nobody (out of the eight I asked) was able to host me and I only had two replies on “Yes, we can meet for dinner.” A real contrast from the warm response I received in Russia. However, I do believe that it is due to the time of year. That night, before heading to the train station, I had dinner with my Chinese friends at a very hole-in-the-wall style restaurant where the owner was pleased as punch that his food was good enough to be enjoyed by a foreigner (it was amazing actually!) My friends helped me navigate the cavernous train-station in order to get me to my gate/platform before we said good-bye and good luck.

I just finished my second afternoon here in Dalian where I just finished quite the hike along the southern coast from the city. Also, the Chinese train system that I took to get here is a little different than that of Russia.. however, since I have a little light left on my last day in town, I’ll save that story for next time. I am off to the border city of Dandong tomorrow which is located about four kilometers from North Korea. I hope to snap a few pictures of the reclusive, pariah-regime and yell “Democracy Rules Losers!” a few times before catching an overnight train to Beijing. Next post will more than likely be from there… as long as the Public Security Bureau does not have any qualms with my pro-western message. Until then.

(Editors note: Maybe that is not such a good idea… the way my google-mail access has been lately (sporadic at best), I’m quite sure I’m under some sort of monitor.)

(Cont. Note: I put back in my yelled quote of ‘Democracy Rules Losers!’: Dear Chinese Government, if you’re reading this – Suck a fat one losers! Ha-ha!)

-Jake

Posted from Haerbin, China.

So I’ve made it to Harbin, China in one piece and have been feeling much better since my run-in with the flu. Much thanks to my couch-surfing host Denis for his fantastic accommodation and kindness which had assisted in my rapid recovery.

So when I woke up last Wednesday afternoon after a well-needed rest following my odyssey of a train-ride, my couch-surfing host Denis had laid out in writing how to get to the center of town, which bus to take and how many Roubles to throw down (and he even left me some rouble coins in which to do this, what a guy!) I made myself a quick breakfast of his leftovers, slammed a coffee and was on my way into town.

The first thing you notice about this city is that you’ve died and gone to Japanese car heaven. Pretty much every make and model of automobile in Vladivostok is Japanese. There are so many Toyotas, it is beyond comprehension. About 90% of the cars are Japanese, with the rest being Korean and the occasional international model mixed in. Unlike the rest of Russia, there are zero Ladas here.

I immediately headed back to the train station from where Denis picked me up that morning as a point of reference to my walking around the rest of town. It was a gorgeous, sunny day and somewhat cool, but not like the weather I had been experiencing in Siberia. I followed a bit of a walking tour I had discovered in my ‘Russia’ guidebook before I got a text from a girl named Tatiana I had contacted earlier on couch-surfing, whom I had asked before I left Irkutsk if she could show me around Vladivostok. We met shortly afterwards in the city’s main square (Revolutionary Plaza… it seems every main plaza in a Russian city has something to do with some kind of Revolution) and then after a quick walk up and down the picturesque harbor side near the train station to take some photos, we went for coffee at one of the finest places in town.

I learned that Tatiana was a linguist student in both English and French and had been to the west coast of Canada numerous times, including Vancouver and Whistler. Her knowledge of the English lanaguage was refreshing and she was a pleasure to talk to. Her dream is to one day live and study in Canada and is working diligently on studying both our official languages as well as going through the mountain of paperwork required to immigrate to Canada. It put into perspective how I sometimes take my country for granted. Often, I want to leave Canada to see the rest of the world, but here was somebody who had devoted a good portion of her life (if not the majority) so she can experience what I have every day. It definitely made me take a step back and reflect on what I have in where I come from.

As the day progressed, Tatiana had to leave briefly for a previous appointment, but made a promise to return later. During this time, I ventured down to the coast to see a make and model of one of the first Russian submarines next to the docks and did a quick walk along the eastern coast-line. An hour or so later, I met up with Tatiana again and we walked along the west-side of Vladivostok’s coast to a couple look-out points so I could take photos of the setting sun. Afterwards, we stopped in one of her favorite restaurants for a quick bite to eat (also, the wind was picking up and it was getting -cold-) Tatiana agreed to join Denis and I for the evening, so we chatted for awhile and sipped tea while we waited for Denis to finish work.

In the evening, Denis came and picked both of us up to drive us around to various scenic areas around town. From a variety of look-out points (there are numerous hills surrounding the city) I took some night photos and some photos of my new friends, before bundling ourselves back into Denis’s Jeep. The wind had picked up significantly at this point and while we were dressed warmly, the wind cut right through us like a wicked, icy blade. Denis and Tatiana eventually agreed (after a back and forth I did not understand) where to take me for dinner and we dined at a popular Russian restaurant in town. It was here I ate my last bowl of Russian Borsche (the best soup ever) with a bit of sadness as I remembered the numerous bowls I had before it in this amazing country.

During dinner, we chatted about numerous topics that resound with Russians. These topics mostly included: politics, political figures, corruption, (they told me a funny story about a defective, extremely expensive Christmas tree that was erected in the center of the city and broke the day before Christmas) Russian criminals and the conditions of the roads. After a lively back and forth, most conversations ended with the words ‘well, its just Russia.” It seems that a sense of “that is the way its always been” permeates the Russian culture. However, I have seen from recent events in the country, that people are starting to become fed-up, if not downright rebellious towards this attitude.

That evening, after dropping off Tatiana and wishing her a good night, Denis and I retired to his place for a social gathering and a conversation about life’s topics. Denis was recently divorced so our conversation revolved around our thoughts on marriage, traveling, what things cost in Canada, Canadian culture and him one day coming to Canada. Long story short, it was early in the morning before we finally called it a night and I easily see that I had made another close friend on the road.

The next day, I met up with Tatiana again before she had to take the bus home to her hometown to visit her parents and younger brother. We walked around the city, had lunch together and she helped me hunt for a few souveneirs from Russia to take home. However, while the weather itself was tolerable, the wind was unbearable. There were times I felt like I was going to ice over on the spot. Walking soon became more than a chore and before long, we were off to the bus station to garner my ticket to China and so I could say “dasvidanya” to Tatiana and wish her a safe trip home.

That night I felt -terrible-. After a chat with my special lady Meghan online, I quickly fell asleep and was awoken to Denis coming home to grab a few things before he had to take off again. I met his niece who was the cutest thing and from the look on her face, I could see she was quite astonished to see a big, hairy, sick-looking, half-asleep Canadian wearing a Kim Jong-Il t-shirt in her Uncle’s apartment. I must have been quite the sight. After they left, I did some busy work (laundry, post etc) had a quick dinner with Denis when he came back shortly later and was off to bed for a solid twelve hour sleep.

The next day, I was feeling significantly better. I walked around town briefly for an hour or two before meeting Denis in the evening for dinner with his former work colleague, Tatiana (yes, another girl named Tatiana. All girls in Russia pretty much have the same name. Tatiana, (Tanya) Natasha, Olga and Elena (Lena)) That night we dined together at a buffet-style restaurant not far from his place, chatted late about everything under the sun (including the recent political developments in Russia, Tatiana, I thank you very much for speaking English, it was great!) and retired to Denis’s apartment. Not much later I was asleep and up even earlier to catch my bus to China.

The next morning, Denis drove me to the bus station where I quickly found my bus. After a heartfelt goodbye (seriously Denis, you were a fantastic host. I can not stress this enough) I hopped on the bus and was passed out before we left the station.

Just finished my first full day in Harbin, China. I have my ticket booked to Dalian, China (about four hours from the border with North Korea) for tomorrow evening on the overnight train. It is a coastal city that I will briefly visit before making my way towards the capital city of Beijing. The culture shock I have experienced here reminds me of a time almost eight years ago when I stepped off the airplane in Kuala, Lumpur Malaysia. The language is next to impossible and it took some serious thinking on the spot to reach my hostel in Harbin… but that is a story for tomorrow. I’ll post before I head to the train station.

-Jake

Posted from Vladivostok, Russian Federation.

This past Wednesday morning, I finished the longest single journey of my life. Nearly seventy-two hours in third class (called Platzkart in Russian) on train number eight, on the Trans-Siberian Railway.

My train left first thing in the morning from Irkutsk, so after bidding my hostel owner Dmitri “dasvidanya” (Good-bye in Russian) I ventured to the station with another gentleman from Korea who was taking the same train. We quickly found our respective wagons and we were on our way. This being my fourth train ride, I had the “train entering” protocol already figured out. As you approach the train, you need both your ticket and passport in order to board. Since it was morning and the train was coming from Novosibrisk (a fairly large city west of Irkutsk, near to Tomsk) most of the occupants were asleep. In Platzkart, each compartment is open-air (No doors) and contains six beds with one of the beds converting into two chairs and a table, while the other four beds have a table already set up for them. I’ll publish pictures from China when I am able, so you can see what I mean. When you enter you quickly find your bed from the number on your ticket, stash your luggage in whatever space you can find (this process can be difficult in a full train, especially if you’re trying to be quiet) Since my train was only partially full, I easily found a spot for my backpack on one of the top racks.

Next, you find a bedroll which contains a pillow on one of top racks and lay it out on your bed. Then you sit quietly and wait for the wagon conductor to deliver your linen (bottom sheet, top sheet, pillow case and face towel) and re-check your ticket. After this process, you make your bed and then you’re good to go. Sometimes, this is easier said than done. I was lucky as my bed was on the bottom of the four bed compartment side, which are the two best beds in the six-bed compartment. The other two beds of the compartment have walls at the end and having slept in them previously, there is barely any space to stretch out for a man of my stature. Also, the top bunks are pretty rough. Not only do you need some degree of gymnastics skills to get to them (no ladders, just areas you can hold onto and push yourself up from) they are relatively cramped and hitting your head on the rack above you is not uncommon. The absolute worst beds are the ones next to the door that leads to the wagon toilet. People are constantly coming, going, slamming the door, making a ton of noise and hitting your feet with the door. I discovered this on the ride from Kiev to Moscow. Since it was the morning and I had little sleep the night before, I surveyed my surroundings and noticed three other guys in my compartment (two older, one younger) and laid down (with ear plugs of course) and tried to ignore the orchestra of snoring coming from the other compartments as well as the bed next to mine.

When I awoke, I noticed that my other compartment mates were already up and moving about while I glanced out the window and was greeted with a fantastic view of Lake Baikal which the train was passing by. (see previous post) I lingered for a bit before making the first of many, many cups of tea (glasses with little metal holders courtesy of the wagon conductor) with hot water available from a cistern at the end of the wagon and sat down and did my best to shake the sleep from my mind. I found out through my beginner Russian that all three of my mates were from Krasnoyrask (a place between Novosibrisk and Irkutsk) and one was named Vladamir, the other Vasil and third name one escapes me. At this point in the trip, it is just a matter of keeping yourself entertained and I had a good sixty-eight hours or so to discover how.

The first thing you notice about the wagon is the smell. It starts off non-offensive, but gradually gets worse as the hours tick by. However, since it is gradual, it is not immediately noticeable. For starters, nobody showers for three days so the place gets a nice tinge of body odour to it. Also, Russians tend to eat some aromatic foods and it just so happened the first food my compartment mates started to eat was a handful of intact dry-fish from Baikal itself (which they cleaned and de-boned in the compartment) Mix this smell with vodka, garlic, unwashed linen, stale cigarette smoke, fresh (and not so fresh) meats, cheese and all the food of the World, unwashed clothes and a variety of feet and you have yourself one truly unique stench.

Second, you notice that since it is winter, the heat in the wagon is relatively sporadic. I believe the wagon heaters themselves are coal powered (with a variety of garbage.. yes, I saw the water cistern’s fuel compartment stuffed with trash) and I believe they put the day’s allotment in during the early hours of the morning. You notice this because the compartment heater is conveniently located right next to your head and belches a blast furnace straight into your face first thing in the morning and you usually wake up with your mouth feeling as if you’ve being chewing on the whole of the Gobi Desert. At other times however, with many people going in between the wagons to smoke (between the wagons is like a freezer) the compartment gets a bit chilly and I found myself with my sweater on more than once. Other times, it was sweltering. The various men in the wagon dressed for it, some with their shirts off and others often just merely hanging out in their underwear. Yes, I’m dead serious.

Next, food and drink becomes quite the event on the train, with everyone usually sharing in your compartment. The food is usually meats, cheese and bread cut up in various fashions (we were comparing our knives at one point) for lunch and dinner, while dehydrated noodle bowls (think Mr. Noodles) with hot water are the choice for breakfast. The drinks are usually water and juice, followed by copious amounts of libations. After lunch, you’re usually quite full and with nowhere to go and not much to do, I often put my Ipod on and took a nap.

Afternoons are times of figuring out how to pass the time. I played a lot of cards (and I mean, a lot) with my compartment mates during the afternoon. Even though I understood little of the process, through trial and error they taught me their card game called “fool” and we often played for a few hours each day. Even in the evening after a nap, the cards were out again and the game continued. I noticed a lot of people in the wagon passing the time with this game.

After getting my clock cleaned more often then not, I usually retreated to my books. I cleared through a book on Chechnya I bought in Tomsk (A Dirty War By Anna Politivskaya) and am about half-way through another I brought. I also did some research on Vladivostok (my destination) and China (my next travel destination) Other times, I just sat and listened to my compartment mates talk to each other. I could often pick out words with my knowledge of Russian and did my best to figure out what they were talking about. Like most guys, their conversations usually consisted of alcohol, cars and women. Some things just never change no matter where you are.

Lastly, when all else failed you could just stare out the window. The beautiful expanse that is Russia never failed to delight. At times I was passing snow covered plains or birch trees as far as the eye could see. Other times there were massive snow-covered mountain ranges with various degrees of sunlight hitting them. At one point, they seemed to be coloured pink in the setting sun. The sunsets too were nothing short of spectacular, with the sky seemingly blood-red at times. You notice too that the train goes through barely any tunnels. During the entire seventy-two hours, I counted two tunnels than lasted for no longer than thirty seconds each.

The train stopped at various times throughout the trip. Since the wagon conductor usually ignored my questions (rudeness, I tell you) I found out through my compartment mates how long the train was stopped for. They were my “canary in the mine” and when they started to bolt in the direction of the train, I quickly followed. Usually, they went to the nearest store next to the tracks to buy beers. I often perused the hawkers/merchants that would line up next to the train selling their wares which could be anything from food, drinks, trinkets and even caviar. Also, I needed to stretch my legs and walk a bit. Being in a compartment all day, the lack of exercise starts to get to you.

Other times, I ventured to the restaurant car on the train. Since it was very expensive to buy anything there I did not stay long or go very often. Also, the train bobbed and weaved like a drunken sailor on shore leave so that made writing in my journal impossible (I made notes about the trip on my Blackberry. Thanks Kate!) Also, wandering the train cars was generally frowned upon. The wagon conductors of each wagon often questioned me with the tone of a Drill Sergeant and I would just say “Restaurant” and they would let me pass as if it was the password to continue. Also, noticing I was an English speaker, most just thought I was some harmless traveller.

All this pretty much keeps you occupied. However, by the end of the three days I was feeling like a giant pile of unwashed rear-end and was looking forward to getting off the train for good. My train arrived in Vladivostok at around six am on Wednesday morning, where my newest couch-surfing host, Denis, met me with his car and drove me back to crash at his place while he ventured off for boxing training and then to work. Noticing how clean his place was, it could not have been better. After taking one of the sweetest showers of my life, I crawled under the sheets of the bed he had laid out for me and slept the rest of the morning away.

Vladivostok itself has been quite the experience. I have one more day left here (tomorrow) of my three nights, then I am off to Harbin, China as I have to leave the country on Saturday when my Russian Visa expires. However, since it is very late and I seem to have acquired a moderate form of a strain of the Russian flu, my time in Vladivostok is a story for next time. Until then.

-Jake