Although I am writing this post almost 4 months after this trip (!), certain parts of the trip still seem like yesterday- the endless days on the train journeying through the continuous Russian countryside, the frisky horses in Mongolia which tried to buck us off and the severe effects on our british-trained stomachs on eating chinese food in Beijing...(I'll let you draw your own conclusions there).
We started off our trip in St Petersberg- a sort-of Russian version of Venice, but without the gondolas. The Hermitage was awesome and tiring- there was actually too much art to see without needing regular naps. One of the oddest sights in St Petersberg was coming across scores of bridal couples posing for photos in a central park. We came across these smiling couples on our walking tour of the city, and according to our guide, this park was especially popular with weddings. Trailing after each couple was the bridesmaid and best man wearing sashes speling out their titles and the guests of the wedding. Apparently Russian weddings are always small affairs with the whole party following the couple for their public photos after the ceremony.
Next was Moscow, which was like the big, brash older sister of refined, quiet St Petersberg. We spent most of our days in the Red Square, visiting Lenin's creepy mausoleum, the ornate Disney-esque St Basil's church and posing with the eerily similar lookalikes of Stalin and Lenin at the edge of the square. The highlight was finding a Communist- style russian cafeteria at the top of a smart shopping centre near Red Square which served cheap, delicious traditional russian food. Sweet, cool apricot drink with a fat apricot suspended in the glass, soft pancakes full of cream cheese and sultanas, or mushrooms and parsley and tubs of pickled tomatoes... Needless to say we ate there most days, with even the russian waitresses starting to recognise us and our garbled russian requests.
After our tour of these Russian cities, it was time to board the Trans-Siberian train for our 41/2 day journey to Mongolia. We boarded the train with stacks of Mongolians pushing trolleys piled high with teetering suitcases and boxes. It all seemed very mysterious until the first long stop, when the Mongolians frantically jumped off the train and arranged their goods on the platform or hung clothes out the windows. The train doubled as a huge moving flea-market. As we continued on into the Siberian countryside, more and more locals congregated on the platforms to buy from the Mongolian sellers. Police and official looking men either turned a blind eye or just joined in.
The days on the train quickly settled into a pattern of sleeping, reading, staring at the constant Siberian countryside with blue and yellow houses and rushing off the train at every stop to purchase fresh food from the locals. The best of these stops was near the border with Mongolia, where we found lots of little ladies sitting with their saucepans of homemade pasties, dumplings and russian pastries. They were absolutely delicious. The food on the train however, left much to be desired. The extensive menu was merely an elaborate ruse, as there were only 3 dishes available- chicken, beef or pork with potatoes and salad. Even these choices diminished as the train moved further and further away from Moscow. It didn't help that the food was served by possibly the most sullen, angry and generally depressed waiter ever known. The whole dining car took on the waiter's grumpy mood, so that even the tablecloths looked depressed and lacklustre. We never ever saw anybody else eat there.
Four days later (!) we finally arrived in Mongolia- the highlight of the trip. We were escorted in Mongolia by our friendly local guide Ogi who chaperoned us around Ulanbataar and took us out to the ger camp. The ger camp was idyllic- each ger was ornately and colourfully decorated in pinks and yellows with matching wooden beds around a central fire. Though it was summer in Mongolia, it got very cold at night at the ger camp, but not inside the cosy ger tents where our guides lit a fire each night. Although the only people at the ger camp were other tourists, it did seem authentic, as our Mongolian hosts wore local dress, taught us to ride horses (with varying degrees of success) and took us to a local nomad camp where the nomad family made their own traditional mongolian food (which consisted of strange smelling dairy products in huge containers). Our horse-riding experience was short-lived though, when the frisky horses bucked one of our group off and led the rest of us in circles. We decided to go bushwalking instead.....!
The Mongolians were very friendly, welcoming people- keen to show you their culture, whereas many Russians we met seemed quite grumpy or just pissed-off. In Beijing, the Olympics had just ended but the locals were still keen to greet each tourist with the friendliness that our tourist dollars promised. Unfortunately we only had a day and a bit in Beijing and we would have liked more, but we still managed to pack in Tiananmen Square (a bit ghostly), Forbidden City (huge!) and Peking Duck (carved on our table complete with the duck's head). Beijing was great, clean, friendly and bustling- with public transport all in english (thanks to the olympics).
So after our long intrepid journey across three countries in a rickety old train, we were quite keen to get back to our little flat in London. What a trip!
