Overland Out

Accommodation location

We set out to travel from England to Asia without flying. A slower, more sedate approach, in a time when time flies and life is gone in a flash, we wanted to slow time and see things properly. We also wanted to see how we would cope with life on the road. So after 190 days rocking and rolling the final transport count from Kenilworth to Kuala Lumpur is:-

Trains – 30
Buses – 25
Tube/metro – 20
Taxis – 14
Tuk Tuks/Songthaews – 8
Minivans – 8
Ferries/Speedboats/dinghies – 11

If anyone is considering doing it, do it.

Is there anything I would do differently? At my age, I’d bring nasal hair trimmers.

Have we learnt anything? Well, we already suspected but now we know that your average person is kind and helpful and stereotypes are not always true. Russian and Chinese train conductors, grannies, shopkeepers, dinnerladies, waiters, hoteliers, policemen, security guards and people on the street have all helped us when we have been lost or in need of something. We thank them all.

Ulan Ude to Mongolia 12.10.16

Up at 5.45am and a brisk 10 minute walk to the station. As usual we can’t see the signs for the platform but unusually there is no friendly Russian to help, so we follow two backpackers to a long train and ask a  carriage attendant who points to carriage 8 which is bound for Mongolia. Tickets checked by our first Mongolian crew and we say hello to Patrick our French cabin mate who has also just boarded. Mattresses are laid out and as its still dark we rest for a couple of hours until I’m woken by Patrick’s camera shutter repeatedly clunking. I look out of the window to see a beautiful rolling landscape tinged orange by the fresh sun and get out the compact camera.

Mongolian railways don’t provide a glass and silver holder like their Russian counterparts but a cup of tea from a papercup still tastes good. It is soon apparent that we are in the tourist carriage as I haven’t seen this many westerners in one place since Stockholm. Hellos are said and languages and accents eavesdropped upon. A windows is opened so we can take it in turns to get the vital ‘train round the bend’ Trans-Siberian photo that you simply must have. I decide to finally walk the entire length of the train to the back to get the other vital ‘tracks behind the train’ photo and am pleasantly surprised to find that our carriage is the end of the train.

We chat to Patrick and watch the scenery as from out of nowhere, huge refineries churn smoke with their ugly reflections polluting mirror smooth lakes.

Noise in the corridor. We look out to see our crew placing four boxes of bananas in a locker under the carpet. Nothing to see here.

At 1.15pm we reach the Russian side of the border. We are ordered off the train as are the prisoners in the jail wagon a few coaches down from us. Unlike them we are not handcuffed together in bunches of six and marched down the platform. We all stand transfixed, watching them as they stand and stare at us. We have paid for our ticket to Siberia. 

The distraction finishes and we chat and as travellers do, swap stories of where we’ve been and info on where we are going. The train is moved and sits and is moved and two hours later we are allowed back on. We sit in our compartments as the sniffer dogs and customs check us and then its time for passport control with the usual smiles and laughter. Not really. We all sit there, as if before our maker in solemn desperation hoping we get the stamp. We all do and four hours after we stop, we’re off again.

Sundown is coming so cameras are out and relief and excitement is tangible as we roll through no mans land. The Mongolian border guards wave at us and we are greeted at the station by two saluting soldiers. Immigration arrives and collects all our passports and we wait for two hours. Patrick tells me of a holiday he took in the south of the USA seeing bluesmen play in small bars and his enthusiasm is so great I want to fly there now.

After dark and the passports are back and off we go. Eventually the crew tell us to go to bed as we are going to be woken up at 4.40am for arrival into Uaan-Baatar at 5.50am. We crash but I’m very excited about seeing the capital of Mongolia and shifting into Asia.

P.S. – we arrive and say our goodbyes and as we walk down the platform we see the contraband fruit getting wheeled away. The trolley hits a dint in the platform and over the boxes go and and their value on the black banana market rises.

11.10.2016 Ulan Ude 

Last day in Russia and for once we were under budget and had roubles to spend / get rid of. I was going to buy some earrings but the shop was closed (much to Guy’s delight) so we went to the supermarket (called Titan) and bought vodka and pot noodles. Thought we should do some culture so visited the Buryat museum for that. It was filled with a lot of information about Tibetan Buddhism and Shamanism (both of which the Buryats followed) but very little about Buryats themselves so if like us you want more information please visited Wikipedia!!! Save yourself £3.50 and Trans Sib fare. 

Lunch was at Marco Polo restaurant, soups followed by vegetables and chicken on a stick. It was delicious and filling. 

As the sky was clear blue we had another wander round to see everything in the sunshine and enjoy that weather. 
Tea was in a fancy  canteen restaurant, which had a slight odour of creosote, which was ok.

 We took another photo of Lenin with the moon. 

We then spent our last 121 roubles on 2 cans of beer, one of which was very similar to special brew, delicious! 

Thinking that an early night was a good idea we turned in and tried to get some zzzzz’ s before our 5.30am wake up call. Only to have the hotel owner politely waking us up at 23.45 with our police registration papers!!!! Fortunately I did not know the Russian for ‘Why the hell have you woken me up for that when I had just dropped off to sleep and have to be up in 5.45 mins’ so I just glared at him and thanked him. 

From Russia with Love

Tomorrow we head to Mongolia after 28 days in Russia. We have both enjoyed ourselves here and wanted to record some observations.

Russian people are, on the whole, lovely. They can have a stoney face but a few badly pronounced words of Russian melts the frowns into smiles. 

Russian hostels are hard to find, most don’t have signs and if they do they are small and in Cyrillic. Many are in a block of flats which just has one number for the block but multiple separate stairwell entrances.

Doors open outwards not inwards. Shops, houses, toilets, all of them. People never hold the door open and metro doors will fly back at you with some force.

Shoes are removed in a hostel.

Hostels sometimes have travellers in but normally have Russians. Either young men or middle aged women. Four out of seven hostels we’ve stayed in have not had other travellers in.

People talk Russian to you even if they know you are from abroad. They don’t seem to understand that you don’t understand.

Supermarkets have covered windows with pictures of goods that they may sell.

No one weeds their gardens.

Uneven pavements, cobbles and ice won’t deter the fearless Russian women from vertigo inducing high heels.

We have been able to order two green teas and two beers but can’t pronounce hello.

Museums don’t seem to have a logical order to follow round.

Cars stop for pedestrians at clearly marked zebra crossings. People in Russia accelerate very quickly and brake hard and in Moscow they drive very very quickly. We are not ashamed to admit we have used old women, young mothers with prams and schoolchildren as what we call “human shields”.

Station platforms for the train you want are difficult to find. Several times we’ve had to ask as a sign for platforms has led to a dead end. Even taking into account the early mornings and our beginners Cyrillic we are right on this.

Craft ale and coffee shops are everywhere.

Pizza restaurants sell sushi. Sushi restaurants sell pizza. Obviously.

Vodka is cheaper than beer and wine.

Hostels don’t allow you to drink.

Litter bins are everywhere (handy for secretly disposing of empty vodka bottles you  ‘may’ have drunk in your room)


10.9.2016 Ulan Ude

We had read deep into the night due to inability to know the time and good books (mine is about a Journalist driving the great wall of China,  Guy’s is about some chap called Genghis Khan  and we we totally unprepared for breakfast being served to our room at 8.20am! I couldn’t stomach to milky tea,  noodles, grated carrot and unnervingly soft frankfurter, thankfully Guy could and ate both portions. I had cup of green tea and chocco pie.

Our host had offered to give us a lift to the Buddhist monastery, a 3.5km climb uphill out of town, we left at 10am. He was very proud of his Japanese car which was right hand drive, in a country that is (predominantly) left hand drive. Guy was sitting in the front, with seat belt firmly intact.

There were morning prayers being held in the monastery so we were respectful and quiet, our hotel man was keen to show us round as he did his prayers so we obediently followed him round, trying not to disturb the chanting,  I nearly jumped out of my skin when they changed the melodic monk chanting to cymbals clashing and drum banging.

Our chap had to get on with his day but with the help of Google translate he told us ahout a trail around the monastery. 

Google translate has been revolutionary on this trip, we have used it numerous times and are getting used to speaking or typing into the phone and showing the results to a local. It is slightly unerving as you are never sure if it correctly translates, but so far we haven’t offended anyone.

We then had a blast of heating from the souvenir shop, and then headed downhill to town through the suburban sprawl of Ulan Ude. We saw a village cafe and decided to stop for tea, we can say 2 green teas in Russian now, so that bit was easy. Trying to get breakfast was a little more difficult but we got eggs, fried luncheon meats and a sliced pickle. A number of bus drivers came in afterwards and had some ace looking soups,  but all we got translated for soups was potato puree soup,  which didn’t appeal. 

Full of warmth we went downhill into town across a long, high precarious looking bridge over the train station that had too many holes in it for my liking. 

Into a supermarket for a nose about. Lots of smoked fish.

Another wander through town, okay, we might have just got lost, we went into the Opera house and pushed our noses to the locked door to see a very plush interior, then needed another fridge magnet for Guy via a giant Lenin head (to note the scale, that tiny blob at the bottom is me).

Time was passing and food was needed so we saw a restaurant with wonderful photos of pelmenis, dumplings, kebabs, salads and were fooled into entering!  In England you would get them on trade descriptions.  We had pork (I think) with under cooked rice and a raw cabbage and cucumber salad, Guy had sausage meat patties with a dried egg on top and salty canned veg, no photos taken.

Another walk around town and we went back to our friendly pastry place for cake and back to the hotel for blogging.

Irkutsk to Ulan Ude 9.10.16

Up early for a short seven hour journey today. The train was at platform 1, the only one not signposted but a kind guard led us through some doors. We had booked two berths in 3rd class where 54 people share a carriage and as we got on in the early darkness it seemed very crowded. An old guy was sitting on one of our ground floor bunks and a young girl explained in whispers and sign language that he had a bad back so we swapped and I went up top and Al took the one below opposite him. We both tried to sleep but with snoring, people on the phone and constant phone alerts it was difficult. 

Eventually when noise levels grew further we had green tea and chocco pie (Russian Tunnocks tea cake/wagon wheel hybrid) for breakfast and read.

The views coming into Ulan Ude were some of the best we’ve seen as the train snaked through green pine and yellow birch peppered hills over wide meandering rivers.

The hotel was only 5 minutes walk from the station and we soon found the block, but in Russia a whole block of flats could be number 32 Lenin St. I’m not sure whether I’ve mentioned this in previous posts but finding a hostel can be a tricky business. Last night I had read reviews of the hotel and one reviewer said it was hard to find and round the back of the block so once we got to number 32 we went round the back and looked blankly at five different stairwell entrance doors. No signs anywhere and there was no stairwell number in any of the hotel details I had. At £3 a minute I didn’t have enough credit to call them and with no wifi I couldn’t add credit, so Al waited with the bags while I walked the whole way round the block but I could only see flats and a music school. In the distance was another hotel so we thought we could ask there. We passed a pastry shop and with nothing to lose I went in to ask. A fierce looking middle aged lady looked me up and down without moving from her slumped position over the counter and my heart sank. I tried to pronounce hello and then asked “Hotel Shumak?” She pointed out the window only moving her arm. I artistically mimed a door and asked “number?” She stood up and kept pointing and rambling on in Russian. I walked to the shop door and held it asking “door number? Door number?” She smiled and she shouted something to the back of the shop, something like “Katya, an educated and handsome young Englishman is asking where the hotel down the road is, can you also explain it to him in Russian?” Katya comes from the back of the shop and points and explains and they both keep miming a sign and indicating that its just down the road. By now we are all laughing (with me, not at) and the first lady walks out the shop with me and keeps pointing. A very old lady in her Sunday best passes and stops and we get handed over like a relay baton and we crawl at a snails pace for 50 metres until she stops and points round the corner. We round the corner grumbling about signage and see a big Cyrillic sign for the hotel. Oops.

Into reception and hostel owner, owners wife, son who appears drunk, sons friend, sons friends girlfriend and a young Russian girl all come out to greet us, say hello, speak to us in Russian and shake hands. Owner explains the room is not ready and we’re ushered into a small side room and given very strong coffee and using google translate, told it’ll be ready in 30 mins. We ungratefully pour the coffee down the sink else no sleep for us tonight and decide to go back to the pastry shop for food.

The ladies smile as we enter and we point to the doughnuts. “What flavour?” I suspect they ask and we smile and shrug and point again. They give us doughnuts and the first lady shouts “chai?”at us. A chair is fetched from the back and we are seated in the shop front to eat our doughnuts and drink our tea. We have been in Russia for 25 days and have only encountered two genuinely grumpy people. There is definitely a stoney face here but if you learn a few worlds of Russian and smile the stoney face evaporates and the people are caring and helpful, the same as everywhere.

Back to the hotel and Alison walked up next doors steps which lead nowhere, not even to a door. I was sympathetically in hysterics as was the hotel owners wife.

We head into Ulan Ude the capital of Buryatia but like most places on a late Sunday afternoon its quiet and there are few people about. We wander past the opera house and round the pedestrian shopping area and see delapidated wooden houses and brand new flats and two packs of feral dogs.

We end up in a Mongolian chain restaurant where we sample pastries and two different lamb dishes with rice, all washed down with Mongolian beer.

8.10.16 Lake Baikal

Had breakfast at our hostel,  chatting to a young Korean guy, early 20s, who was travelling through Russia and eastern countries on his gap year and tried to persuade us to add South Korea to our trip. It was ace to be in a hostel and chatting to other travellers again which we haven’t done since Moscow.

We had another trip organised today, the weather was clear, blue skies and minus 6 according to our guide, I can agree it was flipping freezing. 

We stopped to get petrol and is was 20 quid for 50 litres. Bargain.

Tour stopped at a wooden architecture museum, which made the best of a massive dam that was built. The dam flooded the valley with all the villages being underwater so they took the best buildings and rebuilt them as a museum. It was full of school kids on trips  (even on a Saturday) and families.  The Buryat yurt was most appealing to Guy, there were separate living quarters for men and woman and they only met in the boudoir (along with the kids), and they were meticulous about keeping clean and dirty things separate.  I think he may defect to the Buryats soon!

We then went to see a shaman rock on which suspected wrong doers were left for a night to prove if they were innocent or guilty, however there were 2 ways of calculating the outcome, if you survived the rock spirits were with you and kept you safe so you were innocent, but also if you survived it could be that the water spirits wouldn’t touch you as your were bad. Anyhow the rock looked spectacularly small to even balance on (due to the aforementioned dam and global warming).

Lunch was at a pastry shop which was so much better than Greg’s,  we had a selection of which chicken and mushroom was the best (no photos as we were with other people!)

We were then left to our own devices at the beachside of the Lake, the facts about the worlds biggest freshwater lake are on Wikipedia if you want to see. Our guide was quite geeky, and one of his mates had calculated that if you put everyone in the world in the lake it would only rise 2cm, factoid!  It is massive. We couldn’t see the other side,  it looked like the sea to us midlanders so we dipped our hands in, it wasn’t as cold as we expected hut we didn’t take of shoes and paddle as it was still a definately below 5 degrees. However in a comedy laurel and hardy fashion another couple of tourists slipped into the lake! She was first,  went to walk on partly submerged wood, slipped, fell and silver clutch bag fell into the water, her gallent husband went to help her and ended up slipping and falling in as well, and his mobile phone took a swim as well, this all happened about 2 meters in front of us,  and we looked to help but neither of us was prepared to dive in for the phone of clutch bag, eventually all soggy belongings and owners emerged from the lake and shook off excess water. In a show of admirable restraint we didn’t laugh until they had left the beach.

Then onto a food market where the main item on sale,  from about 60% of the vendors, was smoked omul fish, a local delicacy, obviously we had to try some! Omul purchased Guy then had a look at the other stalls selling souvenirs and picked a fridge magnet for our ever growing collection.

It was interesting to see pine nuts in their natural state, bags being sold to be crunched and opened up yourselves. Never thought that pine nuts came from pine cones but it is bloody obvious when you see it in a bag! 

Final part of our tour was a 20 minute hike up to a viewpoint.

We went back home on the road that was built for Eisenhower to visit Krushchev in 1950’s, it was long and fairly straight which is usually a good thing, fast road an all, but as we were in Russia it means really fast cars overtaking randomly, on hills,  and at top speed. It is generally best to look out the side window and pray! Eisenhower never visited as the cold war started, but at least the road was built and the locals can drive like nutters!

Back home for smoked fish starter, and luncheon meat and cheese pizza with the free bread we got with the fish (probably because we were supposed to haggle!) and lots of chatting with our new Chinese friends who were all heading back to China that night to go to work the next morning.

Irkutsk 7.10.16

Woke up at 7 feeling refreshed. Over breakfast read the Central Asian Lonely Planet and got intrigued about Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan.

Today we had no trains or organised trips so we were going to follow the “Green Tourist line” painted on the floor around the city with information boards at historical sites in English. The weather was predicting an overcast day with a max of 0° so I was very pleased to finally dig out my big jumper that I’d been lugging around for the last month. We finally headed out at 10.50. 

10.50????? Where the hell had the morning gone? Train lag and time confusion is setting in. We should be five hours ahead of Moscow but our phones refuse to make the jump after behaving so well up to now.

 We headed through the “Paris of the East” past the Gorky statue, the main square, government buildings and an eysore of a 50s hotel. We saw an army cadet ceremony at the eternal flame for the war dead and the fast flowing, wide Angara river. We passed churches, cathedrals and the historic gateway into the city where everyone entering would be registered. Eventually we went off piste as we wanted to go to a museum about the Decembrists. Not the american band (who I like a lot) but the failed Russian coup. The museum was set in the reconstructed house where folklore suggests Trubetskoy, one of the Decembrists lived. On the way we walked through an area of old wooden ramshackle houses some of which had definitely seen better days. 

At a set of traffic lights I noticed a minibus with a machine gun barrel poking out the window. We cautiously walked past using our peripheral vision and definitely not staring and realised it was a group of teenage army cadets. The lights changed and they drove past us waving.

The museum was good and had info in English too. The mandate of the Decembrists was very progressive and would put many governments to shame now. Stomachs rumbling we checked our guide book and the oldest cafe in Irkutsk was nearby. On the way we saw the main market where a lot of fruit was on offer. The watermelons were huge and roasted pinenuts still in their shells seemed to be the local snack.

The oldest cafe in Irkutsk wasn’t located where our map said so into a local caff where we sampled flavoured minced meat in a variety of casings. Steamed buns called buuzy, baked pastry and deep fried dumpling. Mmmmm

Back on the green line we saw the Circus house and finished by strolling down Karl Marx street to the river front. It was definitely cold now and Al was suffering and luckily we stumbled across Harts Irish Pub, a Russian chain which had started here in Irkutsk. Two dark beers and a seat next to a radiator in the window for some people watching.

Back at the hostel we chatted to a European traveller, the first we’d met since Moscow. Before we left the UK, people had said to us we were brave to do the trip we had planned but in our hearts we both knew it was nothing special and we were following a well worn route. This Italian guy though was either brave or crazy or both. He’d travelled through Iran, Afghanistan, many other “Stans” and the Hindu Kush to get to Russia. He said the people were super friendly and very hospitable. Wow.

6.10.16 Somewhere in Siberia to Irkutsk

We have been on the road for month now!

SNOW! We woke from our gently rocking slumber to the bright whiteness of snow, everywhere. It was a shock even though we are in Siberia and a light flutter of snow had been promised by the BBC weather app. 

We were mesmerised by the change in scenery and took loads of photos.

We are slightly confused by the time though as our phones haven’t jumped an hour we were promised, my FitBit is 2 hours out and the train clock shows Moscow time which is about 3 hours out so all in all we are pretty stumped when it comes to what time it is. 

As stomachs were rumbling we had a pot of noodles for brunch (breakfast in Moscow, lunch in Irkutsk) they were delicious, in a pot noodle kind of way. 

The train etiquette is slightly different here in that no one really opens their doors and chats, which we are slightly surprised at having heard stories of drunken nights and lots of new friendships. However as we are both getting older, and sometimes grumpier, we are actually happier having a cabin to ourselves and being able to relax and do what we want, and not have to share our vodka!

On arrival in Irkutsk we had decided to get a taxi from the station as it would would be a 30 min walk. We were tired and slightly out of sorts and so so fell for the oldest trick in the book and didnt ask the price of the taxi before getting in, realised there was no meter and you are at at the mercy of the driver. I went to put my seat belt on, he said ‘No’ and sped off out of the car park. The only issue being there was no official exit point so on turning out of the car park he came across someone coming in at the same time I bent down the get my bag. I so wanted that seat belt after the screech of brakes and me being flung across the floor. Still, suitably woken up we had a 10 min journey for the princely sum of 10 quid, which is more than Kenilworth taxis! We were so annoyed, but life goes on and you (should) learn from these things, eh?

We then spent another 20 mins looking for our hostel which was where we first went but as the sign was in Cyrillic and we didn’t think to translate it we didn’t realise.

Finally we had our room and laundry sorted so we set off to explore Irkutsk.  There was snow around but not much so no snowball fights for us, so instead we decided it was mealtime. Went to a Soviet style restaurant filled with Asian tourists  (we found out that this is one of their 2 weeks off a year, hence the high number of Chinese everywhere.) It is quite odd being back in the world of tourists especially young ones who do no interaction with their friends at the table only interact with their phones. We did the same whist waiting for our meal which seemed to take the same time to cook as it would to queue for bread in soviet times. It wasn’t great but it filled a hole!

We then set off looking for a tour place we had seen on Internet and again came a cropper looking for it was no signs any where, still we got there in the end and booked a Lake Baikal tour for Saturday.

After walk around Irkutsk Guy decided he needed yet more food, so we went to a modern food court, where the longest queues were for KFC. As tempting as that was Guy went for sushi which turned out to be in tempura batter, which he liked, and I chose noodles using the point it method which was disastrous as they were cold with tofu, ugh. So I consoled myself with a massive sweet cinnamon bun slathered in sweet sticky sauce, truly dirty. Guy had Baskin Robbins ice cream which was so bad we couldn’t figure out the flavours apart from the plastic banana tasting one. 

A short, cold, walk home, temperature is about zero degrees, we were back in our hostel room which was about 28 degrees and we couldn’t work out how to open the window or turn down the radiator so a hot sweaty night in Siberia commenced.

Leaving Novosibirsk 5.10.16

Up at 5am and a brisk walk to the train station. Our carriage attendant didn’t like my ticket and kept pointing to something which in the early morning darkness I couldn’t see. He checked Al’s ticket, smiled and led us onto a spotless empty compartment. On our first overnight train, our Russian travelling companion had declared “this train is not comfortable. It is not a Russian train” and now we understood what she meant. The compartment was bigger with a longer bed and more headroom underneath the top bunk. The table was bigger and we were given sheets, a towel and a comfort pack with a toothbrush, toothpaste and a shoehorn. There was also a menu in English for our included evening meal. Pleased, we rolled out our mattresses and settled down for sleep.

We roused about 9 and at 9.30 a small plump man appeared in our doorway with a ramshackle patched up trolley. He grinned at us revealing gold teeth and said in English “Cold beer” We laughed. “Cold Russian beer?” He asked. We laughed again. “Cold beer?” His face looked confused as he didn’t seem to understand that at 9.30am we didn’t want a beer. He walked off despondently.

We read and watched the birch trees roll past with their yellow leaves thinning and were jolted at 3.30 with a knock on the door. A lady appeared with our free meal. Beef goulash for me and chicken stroganoff for Al. It was warm and free.

At some point in the afternoon we miss the marker that indicates we are closer to Beijing than Moscow.

The light fades. Our golden toothed friend appears at our doorway again. “Cold beer?” He asks. Its the only English he speaks. We indicate positively and he hurriedly shoo’s us back into the compartment and wheels in his merchandise. He closes the door and digs out two cans of Baltika, hidden underneath dried fish and unidentifiable beer snacks from the bottom of his trolley. We pay him and he adds our cash to a huge wad he pulls from his pocket. The whole transaction seems very dodgy and I can’t ever remember buying a beer under such covert circumstances. He leaves and indicates we should close the door. Cold beer, crisps and the compartment to ourselves. Bliss.

The China lonely planet comes out and we chat about where we should go. Later our friend is back. He opens our compartment door and walks in without knocking. The cabin fills with his odour. “Kozel beer?” He asks demonstrating his increased vocabulary. We pay and he disappears to return 5 minutes later with a supermarket basket with a tea towel in. Under the tea towel is a brown paper bag and in that is another brown paper bag and in that are two cold kozels. He indicates we should hide them rather than drink them and leaves.  

Beers sunk we wrestle our duvets into their covers and sleep very soundly.