Time's Up Tomsk!

Apparently responding to my comments last week, the cold has returned with a vengeance. It’s a cold that will freeze your water bottle, cause icicles to form in your nostrils and even make your I-pod stop working. It’s a bitter cold, but it’s exactly what I was hoping for. Anyway, the end of my Siberian odyssey is, regrettably, upon us. It is a journey that has taken me to the depths of Siberia, with Baikal and Altai the highlights, as well as allowing me to experience that joyous reality that is, of course, life in Tomsk. From a TV appearance to being beaten with branches by some Sergei or other, Tomsk really has had it all. I’d like to wrap up my time in Russia by looking at the some of the things that will no longer be a regular feature in my life.

Before

After

Pelmeny

Pelmeny is, as you may have previously gathered, a simply sensational dish. Flavoursome doesn’t quite do it justice. A mincemeat mixture of beef and pork, wrapped in a thin layer of dough, it is perfect for a hungover day, not least because it takes approximately 4 minutes to cook. These glorious pockets of heaven have stolen a place in my heart and will be sorely missed.

Snow

I have become accustomed to seeing a thick blanket of snow all around town. It makes everything look nice, all the time. The sound of crunching snow underfoot is one of those memories that you can’t convey in photos. Also, hardened snow is great for sliding. I will miss sliding. Sliding is great fun. Falling over is less fun, but watching a stranger fall over is absolutely priceless…

The River Tom under ice and snow

Cigarette Smoke

The lack of a smoking ban has rather irritated me. Every time I go to a bar, club, restaurant or café, the smell of cigarette smoke looms in the air. It clings to your clothes, meaning putting a wash on has become a painfully regular occurrence. In my opinion, pretty much anything bar underwear can be worn more than once. The jumper, for example, can be worn a good few times before it needs a wash. But not here! My levels of personal hygiene are through the roof…

Curfew

This one has been a real pain. Being forced to return before midnight or after 6am can be problematic. It means you have to leave bars at around 23:15, or stay, and risk everyone leaving shortly after midnight. Fortunately, I have become more and more friendly with the babushkas who sit at the entrance, so occasionally I can return later. It is certainly something that I will be glad to see the back of…

Greetings

When you bump into some friends, the protocol is simple. Men shake hands with men. That’s it. There’s none of this kissing on the cheek business that we have, which only makes a situation more awkward. If you don’t know how many kisses to give or whether just to hug it out, the tension can be unbearable. If you’re exceptionally unlucky, nightmarish calamities, such as banging heads or brushing lips may ensue. The Russians don’t even run the risk of such horrendous social abominations from taking place. The simplicity of the procedure here means that I can stride confidently up to any group of friends, knowing exactly what is about to happen. Unless there are other foreigners there, in which case the whole theory is thrown into absolute chaos.  

Zlata

Zlata Ognevich was Ukraine’s entry to the Eurovision Song Contest last year. Despite the magnificence of her song Gravity, she did not manage to win the competition, even though we all know she was far better than that Danish tree hugger. I promise I’m not bitter. Fortunately though, I have had the pleasure of hearing her song played in cafes, shops, restaurants and several hundred times on my computer. The note she hits at 2:02 is a sensation. She isn't bad to look at either... 

I could go on, but a 4:30am wake up call is looming large. I shall leave you with one final snippet of Russian wisdom. The well-know fable of a stork bringing newborn babies to their parents, used to avoid telling children about reproduction, is also popular in Russia. But not as popular as the idea that babies are found in cabbages, superbly depicted in the picture below. Quite simply, you just cannot make this stuff up. Tomsk, Siberia, Russia, it has been an absolute pleasure.

"You were found in a cabbage, son"

Life at -35

Sadly, Tomsk’s winter temperatures have not quite lived up to their billing or my expectations. I have not reached the magic -40 mark yet and I haven’t endured bitter cold for much longer than a few days. I haven’t succeeded in turning boiling water instantly to snow, but I did get to walk across a river (see link below).   

Walking across the River Ob.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cY7LmBBzMWc&feature=youtu.be

Despite the temperature not quite reaching ridiculous levels, it still has posed a few problems, which I would like to share with you now: 

1. Things take longer.

Clothes serve one fantastic purpose: keeping you warm. However, in almost every other way, they can be a bit of a nuisance. Gloves make answering the phone or paying for tickets on public transport difficult, while hats can restrict your hearing. However, it is the number of layers that I have found most problematic, even for something as simple as going to the loo. In the summer months, you can rush inside and use the facilities relatively quickly. Many men, and I suppose the odd, questionable, girl, may even have relieved themselves on the street. But when you’re wearing multiple layers, you need to leave enough time or you will find yourself in a pickle. Fumbling for your keys with a large, gloved hand certainly doesn’t help you to relax.

2. It’s too warm.

Too warm you say? Yes that’s right. -25 in Siberia is too warm. Russians love their central heating and they don’t hold back! It is cranked up to the max in restaurants, buses, apartments; you name it. You will dress suitably for the outside temperatures, but even five minutes on a busy bus and you’ll be feeling the heat. All in all, I have probably spent a good few hours taking off and putting on items of clothing. Unfortunately, I haven’t yet come up with an adequate solution to the problem, and seeing as I have one week left, I may just let this one go…

3. Vision impairment.

Those of you that suffer from short, or indeed long-sightedness, will know that your spectacles can occasionally steam up. Things like sipping a hot cup of tea or walking into a hot kitchen can cause a layer of condensation to appear on your lenses. This problem is magnified here. When the difference in temperature is so pronounced, the condensation is thicker and takes a lot longer to go away. Of course, you can clean your lenses, but this means removing your gloves, unzipping your coat and pulling up layers until you reach the t-shirt. At least I will have given several of Tomsk’s shop owners a good laugh as I struggle with my zip, whilst aimlessly squinting at the upholstery through a layer of cloud.

Despite these complaints, I have to say that the clothes I have bought for the conditions really have been quite marvellous. My down-filled coat has never failed me and my hat is fantastically soft and cosy. However, today I did feel the force of the cold and just why clothes are so necessary. Bringing the Russian festive period to an end is the “Крещение” celebration. This involves the submerging of one’s body in the water of an ice pool. The Russian word means ‘baptism’ so I suppose it can be considered as a form of spiritual cleanliness.

Not wanting to miss a trick, I of course took part. I had been preparing for the past week by taking cold showers, so that the shock wouldn’t be too severe. Despite this, it was still inhumanely cold. I think the actual temperature of the water was about -3 or -4 degrees. The problems began long before plunging into the water though. Because of this festival’s popularity, thousands of people take part, meaning the queue was rather long. Of course, you have to get changed in advance, so I found myself standing in a long line of Russian nutcases for about 10 minutes, in nothing but my swimming trunks.

Take note of the red toes...

My main piece of advice for anyone planning on taking the plunge is to take a pair of flip-flops because, oh my goodness, my feet were freezing. The snow is painful underfoot and within minutes my toes were searing, dangerously red. And afterwards, the feet were still my main concern. At first, numbness created a bizarre sensation, which made walking actually quite difficult. And then the feeling returned to my toes with interest, causing me to hobble down the street. The indoor sanctuary of a café was extraordinarily welcome.

Slightly chilly

I had wanted to catch the moment on video, but an opportunity didn’t materialise. However, please enjoy this snippet of me speaking shortly afterwards, my powers of speech still not quite back to normal. I hope you can forgive me.

My Post-Baptism Commentaries http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o9LUpqtH9NY&feature=youtu.be

A Chilly Trip to Lake Baikal

In the last few days, I have discovered that -33 is not the ideal temperature for sightseeing. The traditional sightseeing pastimes of aimlessly wandering around outside, standing still for photographs and removing gloves to rummage in pockets for money and sustenance do not lend themselves to such windy, Siberian conditions. -33 is also not a fantastic temperature to discover that your fur-lined boots don’t work quite as well as promised, despite the salesman insisting that they would be suitable for -40. I suppose the clue was that they were going for £20… It is, however, a superb temperature to visit Lake Baikal. Sure, it is extremely cold, requiring constant movement, full-face coverage and an up-to-date knowledge of the nearest place with central heating, but the views are quite simply spectacular.

Outrageous sunset

Irkutsk's snowy trees

My week-long expedition, during which I would spend about 60 hours on the train, began at late in the evening at Tomsk station with a few other students. They haven’t seemed to find quite the right balance between the sweltering heat inside the train, which will all but melt a lump of cheese, and the bleak, snowy outdoor conditions, which may cause your French travelling companion to say: “It is a hard life for a Siberian train wagon.” Fortunately, despite the lack of a happy medium, I made it to Irkutsk in one piece. The day there was spent admiring ice sculptures and snow-covered trees, as well as seeing about a dozen churches and cathedrals. The following morning, after a look around the market, we boarded a bus to Listviyanka, a town snugly squeezed onto the banks of the lake.

I had visited Lake Baikal before, in the summer of 2010, but my first impressions were just as breathtaking, if not more so than before. The vast body of crystal clear water was covered with a layer of wispy smoke, skimming the surface in front of a backdrop of mountains far away on the horizon. We were extremely lucky to have such miraculously clear skies every evening to watch the sunset. The third time around was just as impressive as the first, the winter sun bathing the sky and waves in pinks and oranges before oozing out of sight. In strolling up into the mountains, we were presented with even more spectacular views, as well as plants and even rocks frozen into ice. Despite these marvellous sights, several Russians questioned our decision to travel to Baikal, either claiming that it is far too cold, or rather strangely, that there is nothing to see there. They seemed genuinely unable to understand why we had left our lives in Europe behind to come and visit a Siberian landmark.

Children play on the white beaches of Baikal

This reached its most ridiculous point on our third day by the lake. Our attempt to witness the sunrise in Port Baikal, a short ferry journey from Listviyanka, was foiled by a layer of low cloud, but our voyage across the water did not go unnoticed by either locals or my toes. One elderly woman was actually furious at our ‘stupidity’, repeatedly asking why we had gone there, laughing off my suggestion that the views were glorious, and offering no useful advice except for: “If you go outside, you will freeze and die.” Fortunately, she was wrong; none of us died. However, her description of the town was fairly accurate: “Cold.”

Sunrise over the frozen train

Cold is the first word that comes to mind when looking at a picture like that. In fact, it screams cold. You can begin to understand her bewilderment at our decision to go outside; being greeted with that sort of scene really is quite ominous. On the other side of the coin, there are many Siberians who really take the cold in their stride, normally older men, who have endured a lifetime of ridiculous temperatures. In fact, there is a widely known joke among Siberians that goes something like this:

Me: (at -33) Crikey blimey, it’s freezing!

Siberian Bloke: Ah it’s not too bad. -40 is cold! This is fiiiine. You know, back in Listviyanka it’s only -20! Practically summer!! (Laughs heartily, which becomes a wheezy cough, presumably brought about from a lifetime of temperature underestimation.)

Hilarious joking aside, I have never been that cold before. Your extremities go beyond their pain threshold, such that warming up again is even more painful, as if your bones are re-growing, forging a hole through throbbing layers of muscle and cartilage. Even without wind, the air bites and pinches your face, forcing you to raise a hand to cover everything. Of course, such temperatures make that hot cup of tea in front of the fire even more rewarding, when you eventually get inside and peel off layers.

Just don't peel them off for a victory shot in your Stoke shirt...

The Russian Festive Season

In a matter of moments I will be boarding a train to Irkutsk, a city on the banks of Lake Baikal, famous for being the world’s deepest lake, and also one of its clearest. In July 2010 I visited this lake and even took a dip in its crystal clear waters, but I doubt I’ll be swimming this time round. The water will be frozen enough to walk on and temperatures are set to drop to -25 degrees. Getting there requires another trip on the Trans-Siberian Express, this time a 30-hour journey. On this occasion, I sincerely hope that I will be able to open a window…

The festive period in Tomsk has been a successful one for me. I managed to celebrate Christmas in a relatively British manner, received a couple of presents and even managed to give some to my family, thanks to a scavenger hunt, planned months in advance, which worked better than I could have possibly imagined. In Russia, the 25^th December is a normal working day, with the real celebrations beginning in the evening on the 31^st. My celebrations began on the 24^th December with a drunken, but delightful party with French, Germans and Italians. Christmas day was marvellous: my first proper, White Christmas making up for the absence of turkey and sprouts. Furthermore, I have had ample opportunities to sample the Russian festivities, which seem to last a lot longer than our British equivalents.

My Christmas meal. (Gravy was added later, do not fear).

Firstly, there is the New Year, which I have now celebrated three times. Vodka, cognac and champagne all play leading roles in the festivities, supported by lots of fish and mushrooms. Incidentally, mushrooms are a big deal here. Most people can name about 10 different species of mushroom and ‘mushroom picking’ is a popular hobby. Indeed, I heard the most wonderfully Russian tale the other day: during the summer, a man was picking mushrooms in the forest, when he came across a bear and hid in a tree for an hour, making him late for a balalaika lesson. (Alright, only two thirds of that is true.) Anyway, these celebrations involve lots of chat and lots of toasts. As I’ve already mentioned, they love a good toast here, and not toasts like we have at home, but often over a minute long, involving an anecdote or joke. I’ll be honest; sometimes you do need a break from the mushrooms. During these various New Year celebrations, I discovered a few more interesting Russian customs:

• It is bad luck to celebrate your birthday before the day itself. (So don’t throw a Russian a surprise party in advance. It won’t go down well...) 
• A man will only shake the hand of a woman if she proffers it. 
• When you play Secret Santa, you never reveal your identity. (Ever.)

My actual New Year’s Eve was spent in a cottage with about 40 other students, of several nationalities. Some Russians had prepared more traditional food and we all watched Putin give his little message (just like the Queen does on Christmas), before uncorking the champagne and dancing until the early hours. I would say that the playlist was somewhat lacking in 80s classics, but I persevered nevertheless. I was throwing all kinds of shapes, such that not one, but two Russians asked if I had taken lessons!! Apparently, my ‘latin’ moves to Juanes’ Camisa Negra looked professional… I can’t really take a Siberian man’s opinion on the intricacies of good salsa footwork seriously, can I? The evening also involved several trips to the sauna, handily placed near the front door, allowing for swift exits to throw oneself onto piles of freshly fallen snow.  

Leaping onto the snow.

The Russian festivities don’t stop there though! On the 7^th January, most people celebrate Christmas, which is a much more religious-based affair. Then, on the 13^th January, they celebrate the “Old” New Year. Now, this is completely ridiculous. Some people may not be aware that until 1918, the Soviet Union still used the Julian Calendar, rather than the Gregorian Calendar that us Britons are familiar with. The Julian Calendar is the same, just 13 days later. This means that the Russians celebrate the New Year twice in the space of a fortnight. That’s really not fair. The final celebration, as far as I can make out, is крещение (krescheniye), which means baptism. This involves people throwing themselves into ice-holes. Needless to say, I will be participating. Watch. This. Space.