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Week 1 | Week 2 | Week
3 | Week 4
| Week 5
| Week 6
| Week 7
| Week 8
| Week 9
Week 10
| Week 11
| Week 12
| Week 13
| Week 14
| Week 15
Outside Kemerovo
Day 9 -- Sunday, May 25, 2003
Today there was the kind of wind that you dream about having at your
back, especially if you are sailing. However, I was riding into the
wind. After two hours I biked under 20 kilometers. Later, a respectable
dose of rain accompanied the wind. It was a very difficult ride.
Because of the weather, I ended up spending longer than usual in cafes and had a long conversation with Vladim, a truck driver from Bratsk. He told me how great Bratsk was and I laughed to myself thinking how unremarkable I thought it was. Nonetheless, I appreciated his enthusiasm and am sure that I will look at Bratsk differently when I return there in July.
Novosibirsk
Day 10 -- Monday, May 26, 2003
I arrived in Novosibirsk on a sunny and calm day. Novosibirsk
is considered the capital of Siberia. It is home to 1.5 million people.
Most of the cars in the city are Japanese made, with the steering column on the right side of the car. To some extent, that is to be expected in some place like Vladivostok which is so close to Japan, but even in Novosibirsk --which is closer to Moscow than Vladivostok-- Japanese cars outnumber other models. I spoke with a person who was shopping for a car who said about 90 percent of the cars in the used car lots were Japanese cars.
But perhaps the best thing about Novosibirsk
is that ice cream kiosks are at every street corner. As far as I am
concerned, that is a mark of true sophistication. Affordable and easy
access to ice cream for everyone!
Most of the ice cream kiosks are new, built since the collapse of the Soviet Union. At one truck stop along the way, I noticed an ice cream brand called "Sovietski." What is interesting was that in some of the poorer parts of the ride, I have noticed marketing and labeling that reflects nostalgia for the Soviet Union. In a few cafes, there were cigarettes called "Primernaya Nostalgia" which featured pictures of Lenin and Stalin on the box. Invariably, those cigarettes were the cheapest. But some of the more direct forms of advertising, however, can be see in beers that have names like "Stari Drueg" ("Old Friend") and "Pit" ("Drink").
Day 11 -- Tuesday, May 27, 2003
I left early for the airport to prepare my bicycle for shipping and make sure there were no problems. The day before, I went to the main airlines office to inquire about packing my bike in a box and was assured that there were appropriate boxes at the airport. Of course, I assumed that would not be the case, but at least I had tried to find a box and could demonstrate to the people at the airport that I had followed the appropriate chain of command. I knew that some way things would work out.
This being Russia, a donation of the appropriate size can make the impossible possible.
At the airport, there were no boxes. I went to the person in charge of handling luggage and asked for his assistance, which he gladly offered. My bicycle and baggage were 17 kg over the 20 kg limit and in Moscow I had to pay the official rate for excess weight. A handshake with some rubles in my palm waived the "official" rate and served as insurance that my bicycle would be handled with special care. By befriending the right person, I had saved over two-thirds of what the "official" rate would have been.
I arrived in Vladivostok and took a cab to the hotel to meet up with the rest of the group. The cab driver, Sergei, was a retired military officer who used to live in Kyrgyzstan, but came to Vladivostok 27 years ago to fly fighter jets. He drives a cab to subsidize his military pension.
Vladivosok stretches out on a peninsula
and is surrounded by the waters of the Pacific. It is obviously a
large port town and the main harbor area is filled with large boats
and the cranes and lifts used to repair them. Despite it being so
close to North Korea and China, the city felt more Russian.
Outside Razdolnoe
Day 12 -- Wednesday, May 28, 2003
It is good to be with the group. I no longer have to carry my bags and cycling with others makes the day go faster. Furthermore, when there is wind, we can ride in a group and take advantage of "drafting" to ease the burden of the ride.
We left Vladivostok
with much fanfare. From our hotel, we got a police escort to the beach
for the ceremonial dipping of our bicycles in the waters of the Pacific
Ocean -- something we look forward to repeating three months from
now in the waters of the Atlantic. The local news media covered the
ceremony and followed the group -- 21 cyclists, a driver, two cooks,
and a Ural truck -- to the center of town. The police escort continued
to the edge of town and we were then on our own.
Throughout the ride, it was obvious that we were near the military base, because there was the frequent sound of military jets taking off and landing. For lunch we stopped in a clearing near some concrete pillars. We did not think anything of it until someone came out and said that it was a military post and we were not allowed to stay there. He stayed with us as we finished lunch, curious for information about the ride.
Spassk Dalnii
Day 13 -- Thursday, May 29, 2003
The weather was kind, our first full day cycling together as a group. The wind was out of the southeast and although it was quite strong, it was predominately at our backs. We cycled in a pack and as we sped through villages, people stopped and waved as if it were a parade.
As we stopped to repair a flat tire, I talked with a road crew road, who were walking along the road pouring tar into the cracks. They were using tea kettles to carry the tar and one man referred to himself as a "chainiki" (a little tea pourer).
Members of the road crew, with the exception of the boss, were all
from Tajikistan.
One man said they were like birds, migrating north to work in the
summer and returning home to be with their families in the winter.
By taking jobs that Russians did not want to do, they make more money
than they could at home. At the airport in Bratsk I was surprised
to see that there were more flights to parts of Central Asia than
to Russia. Some is to bring in early season produce, but most, I suspect,
is to supply the migrant work force.
We camped by a river on the outskirts of town. Our big yellow truck and green tents spread out over the pasture attracted a few young,
curious visitors. Natasha 10, and Tanya 11, stopped by to see what all of the tents were doing in town. They were quite surprised to learn
that we were not Russian. We talked about school and the town and their summer plans now that school was out. Both were planning to go to camp over
the summer. As they walked home, Natasha said she was going to study English and Tanya said she was going to take her bike for a ride.
Nevskoe
Day 14 -- Friday, May 30, 2003
The entire day we cycled within a few kilometers of the Chinese
border. At one point we were four kilometers away. Where we camped
for the night, we were 12 kilometers away. Yesterday we saw one
business that had Korean letters and a South Korean flag on the
wall, but today we did not see any Korean or Chinese writing in
front of businesses, as you would expect to see in an immigrant
community. I spoke with one man about the border, and he said that
it was secure and very difficult to cross. But then he was Russian
and went on to ask, "Why would anyone want to leave Russia anyway,
let alone to go to China?"
Cycling as a group, we only stopped to break every 50 kilometers.
When we stopped for the night, we stayed near a small village of
around 500 people. As we were setting up camp, Sasha and his son
came over to see what we were doing. We needed some milk for breakfast.
Sasha said he knew where we could find it. I was a bit skeptical
since it was after 3 p.m. and most villages only sell milk in the
morning and run out before noon. Nonetheless I wanted to see Sasha's
village.
The village was a "kolhoz" (collective
farm) that had largely fallen apart since the collapse of the
Soviet Union. I asked Sasha if life was better today or during Soviet
times. He became very agitated and went on to talk about how his life
was better before independence and that today most of the town is
unemployed. For him, there were no jobs, and he saw no future.
As we walked around the village, it was quiet and I suspect most
people shared Sasha's romantic views about the past. Nonetheless,
the neighbors I met were friendly and interested in what we were
doing. Some of them came back to our camp to talk with the others,
but of course we came back without any milk. We did, however, manage
to get some honey, and to make some new Russian friends.
Bikin River
Day 15 -- Saturday, May 31, 2003
Just outside of Dalnerecensk, we were met by the police car that
was assigned to escort us through the district. It was nice having
someone behind us to slow down traffic, but there were not really
that many cars to cause a problem and cars generally slow down when
there are 20 cyclists riding in formation.
As I rode through town, the heady feeling of being escorted was
compounded by a handful of well-wishers who stopped as we passed.
To keep things in comic perspective, however, I had to admit that
we did not know if the escort was to help us get through town or
to make sure that we left town.
When we stopped for our 50 kilometer break, we were looking at the
mountains of the Russian-Chinese
border. I was told there were many Chinese in the area. Most do
not live in the cities or the villages along the main road.
After a good day of cycling, we set up camp along the Bikin
River where we swam and did laundry. As I was starting to write
in my journal, four soldiers came to enquire about our presence.
It seemed as if they had spent the better part of the afternoon
toasting to the fact that they only had 100 days left in their two
year military service. Though inebriated, they were relatively harmless,
and after raising the glass to us, to them, to the weather, to the
trip, and to most things in between, they were finally convinced
that it was time for the cyclists to go to sleep.
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