Travel

Let’s inspire not impress each other

July 28. Hitchhiking #3.
Back in Europe. We try to catch a ride to Samara, Kazan, or all the way to Moscow. It has been enough for me. The 23-year old I am hitching with naturally takes the lead and decides what we do without asking me. I like him, but there is something missing. Why do I care? ...
July 27. Hitchhiking #2.
Victor has been robbed. They took 2000 dollar from him, he tells us. Now he is on his way to Novosibirsk and beyond to see his family. He travels with an electric guitar and "on the road" is a nice book if you travel by thumb and I pay for his coffee that is cheap ...
July 26. Hitchhiking #1.
Morning. I try to make coffee but forget the water. Sorry. Then we say goodbye to Vera, who has been a formidable host. Then we go hitchhiking. Getting out of Novosibirsk takes a while, we take a wrong train, wait for a minibus that takes us to the highway direction Omsk. Some hours we stand ...
July 25. Stalked!
A day in Novosibirsk. We hang out in the park, take photographs of this far-out metropole, and I retreat in the travelers café again to write I don't remember what. As long as what you do is spirited, there are some gods that want you to do it, they say. They? No, alright, I say ...
July 24. “Labouring” in Siberia.
The train rolled in the Novosibirsk railway station at five am Moscow time. It's three hours later here and the day has definitely started. A short busride takes me to what is designated as the answer to my repeated "centr?" where I hit a coffee place and get organized. I talk to the owner who ...
July 23. Irkutsk > Novosibirsk

The train from Irkutsk to Novosibirsk. I watch a movie and still my appetite with instant noodles just like all the other passengers I can see since I can't look into the first class waggons where caviar feasts and wodka deliria would shorten subjective travel time for upper class Russians. It is nice though ...
July 22. Arrival in Irkutsk.


Irkutsk. It's pitch black when the train arrives. A little confusion because the station clocks use Moscow time. I lie down a couple of hours next to a Belgian group of four that is traveling in the other (more usual) direction towards Vladivostok and by bus to Harping, China. I am surprised my ...
July 21. Train stories #3.
Someone pulls my arm and points at the window. Suddenly, it was there: Lake Baikal. Majestic, pristine, a venerable lady hidden somewhere in the center of the Eurasian landmass. It is wonderful, cameras are pulled out including mine, there is an atmosphere of gaiety on the train, people smile. And she never lets her visitors ...
July 20. Train stories #2.
The fat singing man in the restaurant waggon. I don't know if I can describe him, but I want to try. I am looking for some variation on the theme of being on the train, and hence start walking up and down the mighty machine. I reach the last waggon on one end and take ...