TravelStream™ news feed for member brad_and_mel on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/brad_and_mel en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Mon, 19 Dec 2005 17:13:36 -0500 http://www.travelpod.com http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/brad_and_mel/return_to_oz/1131814800/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/brad_and_mel/return_to_oz/1131814800/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/brad_and_mel/return_to_oz/1131814800/tpod.html Mon, 19 Dec 2005 17:13:36 -0500 Return to Oz: via Eastern Europe and the Trans-Siberian Railway

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Kharkhorin, Mongolia

Brad:One freezing cold November morning, two Mongolians, two unsuspecting Australians and a Welshman piled themselves into a rickety Russian jeep and drove out into the vastness of the Mongolian desert. This country gets more days of clear blue sky than any other, though the brilliant sunshine does little to take our mind off the fact that it is negative 15 degrees outside.At the steering wheel is Gunna, an ex-Mongolian army officer, built like a brick poo-house. I'd say he knows these desert roads like the back of his muscular veiny hand, but there are no roads, simply tyre marks left in the dirt from the last time he trekked out to these nowhere lands. His enthusiasm for this trip is infectious, and he punctuates the otherwise barrenness of the terrain with ancient tales about the area in his unique brand of English he learnt entirely from television and chatting with tourists.Phil, the Welshman we befriended on the train from Russia sits in the passenger seat while Mel and I bounce around in the back with Dawa, Gunna's girlfriend and our chef for the trip. Dawa is a vet by day, and when we ask which job she prefers she answers,"Definitely vet, I like to castrate horses".Our first stop is Khustain National Park, one of only places in the world where you can see 'takhi' - the last remaining wild horses. They are not simply horses that have become feral but a genetically different species, boasting two extra chromosomes. We take the jeep out into the park and see herds of takhi galloping around in all their extra-chromosome-ness. From a distance they do look much like horses but on closer inspection you can see they actually have much bigger heads and smaller butts.The story of their survival is a unique one. They were 'discovered' by a Polish explorer in 1878. Many were captured soon after and taken back to Europe to live in zoos. Meanwhile back in Mongolia, their numbers in the wild were diminishing thanks to hunting and overgrazing until they became extinct in 1969. At that time only 12 remained alive in the zoos. Special breeding programs in Europe and Australia brought the numbers back up and with help of international environmental agencies they were reintroduced back into the wild in 1992. The entire global population of takhi is now descended from the bloodline of only three stallions (they have electronic tagging to combat the huge risk of inbreeding that accompanies this fact).Next stop was for lunch and a visit to the out-house, which consists of a two planks of timber balanced above a smelly four metre deep hole in the ground (I will never complain about 'squatter' toilets again). As the sun started to set over the sand dunes in the distance we thought we'd stop by a Ger village for some photos of the view. The second we stepped out of the jeep Mel and I were accosted by a 14-year-old Mongolian girl. Jumping at the chance to practice her English, she immediately invited us into her family's ger for a cup of tea. A ger is a moveable nomadic home, similar to a small circus tent, made of sheep's wool and felt (see photos).We sit down while the young girl's mother pours us a cup of Mongolian tea (green tea with milk and salt - takes some getting used to). Her father is mending a pair of hand-made boots over a candle on the floor and appears to be ignoring us. The girl quizzes us about our nationality, profession and marital status and tells us that she is studying to be become a translator and that her one hobby is 'translating'. She desperately wants to exchange addresses with us so she can write letters to us in English. Suddenly Dawa bursts into the ger and tells us we "must leave now okay". Mel and I slurp down the rest of our tea, write down our addresses and say farewell to our new friend. We get to the car and present her one of the clip-on koalas we've been carrying around for moments like these. Just as I get my camera out Phil tells us "there's no time for photos", slams the door, and we speed off into the distance. A bit confused Mel and I ask what we missed. Turns out while we were getting chummy with the locals, Gunna was fighting with them. The village drunk had approached him demanding money for bringing tourists into 'his territory'. Gunna refused, words were exchanged, and next thing you know you have the whole village trying to restrain the drunk while Gunna runs back to the jeep to fetch his crowbar. As Phil brings us up to speed, Gunna is driving like a man shaken while Mel and I think back and try to picture this all happening while we were sipping our salty tea, blissfully unaware.The next day's itinerary included walking across a frozen lake (only 5cm thick so you could see fish swimming around below your feet - very cool) and trekking over sand dunes as we headed to our destination for the night, the ancient capital Kharkhorin. There isn't really much left from ancient times though they do have 'Phallic Rock' which points to neighbouring 'Vaginal Slope'(see photos), and 'Turtle Rock' where we saw locals come to leave lollies and chocolates as sacrifices to the gods (and then watch them be devoured by a wild dog seconds later). After spending our first night in a tourist ger run by a kind old lady with a taste for our vodka, we found ourselves in Kharkhorin's most expensive hotel (3 US dollars per person). Dawa cooked us dinner in our room on a portable wok, then we drank vodka and played an ancient Mongolian card game called 'Benicta' (translates as 'I have only one'). We didn't have the heart to tell Gunna that it was actually exactly the same as 'Uno', but he was impressed at how quickly we picked up the rules.There was a small nightclub on the ground floor of the hotel, so when we could no longer put up with the doof-doof echoing through the building we thought we'd head down and check it out. Male to female ratio: 20 to 1. Dance floor: completely empty, that is until we arrived and the lure of the young blonde foreigner girl got a few Mongolian men off their feet for as long as it took for them to realise Mel was not on the market.In the morning we visited Erdene Zuu, Mongolia's oldest monastery, which contained a few restored temples and a ger full of monks cultivating marijuana plants. The rest of the day included a lot of off-road driving, exploring a section of the ancient Silk Road, more frozen lakes and a visit to a well operated by a man in traditional costume on a horse.Our final night accommodation plans were to stay with a nomadic family. As there are no telephones or electricity in these parts, there's no phoning ahead to organise this. In Mongolia hospitality is a matter of sheer necessity rather than a chore or social obligation. Every home in the desert serves as a potential hotel, restaurant, pub, repair shop and information centre. Gunna simply pulled over in front of the nearest ger when dusk approached, chatted to the family inside for a few minutes then invited us in. The mother and 2 eldest children would spend the night with their neighbours while the father and youngest bub would share with the five of us.The family ger plays a vital role in shaping the Mongolian character. The small confines (radius of only about 4 metres) forces families to interact with one another, to share everything and work together. The lack of privacy and need for compromise makes inhibitions fade away and tightens relationships between relatives. It is not uncommon to have 3 generations all living within the one ger. We met our host family's grandfather briefly that night, the most respected member of a Mongolian family. They treated him like the wise elder he was and he looked most dignified in his magenta Buddhist monk robe and accompanying 'Nike' baseball cap (also magenta for colour coordination).The children were very shy to begin with, and we were later told that we were the first westerners they had ever seen in real life. They warmed to us after we gave them each their clip-on koala, which they immediately attached to their dressing gowns and carried around with them for the rest of the night. Dawa cooked us up yet another mutton feast, as Gunna explained to Phil, Mel and I that the young girls of nomadic families often leave in their teenage years to go to university in the city while the young men stay to work on the farm. Apparently when the girls return all learned and sophisticated they have no interest in the comparatively primitive farm boys and marry city boys instead.Despite the lack of running water, electricity and society as we know it, the nomadic Mongolians seem quite happy with their life following the herds. The simplicity of their life is inspiring and demonstrates how little we actually need to live a happy and fulfilling life. You can 'feel the love' between family members, being each other's room-mates, work-mates, and friends means they've come to know each other on a very deep level. Nearest neighbours can be 20 miles away, so community occurs on a much smaller scale for these families. Although this particular family did have frequent visitors thanks to the enormous satellite dish they have sitting next to the dung heap, their black and white solar battery-powered TV picking up Japanese Sumo wrestling and making them the most popular nomads in town.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/brad_and_mel/return_to_oz/1131541200/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/brad_and_mel/return_to_oz/1131541200/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/brad_and_mel/return_to_oz/1131541200/tpod.html Thu, 15 Dec 2005 06:45:03 -0500 Return to Oz: via Eastern Europe and the Trans-Siberian Railway

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia

Brad:After hurrying back from Lake Baikal with the taxi-driver from hell (130km/hr downhill on icey roads), we made it back to Irkutsk station, just in time to scoff down some microwave dumplings and beef strogganoff and board our 8pm train for Mongolia. For the first time since we joined the Trans-Siberian, we met some fellow English speaking travellers. Not one, not two, but six other Aussies, one Kiwi, and a Welshman. The train company lumped us all into the one carriage at the very rear of the train, and the poor Russians who had to share with us were noticeably surly (more so than usual) to be sharing with such a loud enthusiastic bunch of foreigners.The ten of us had a fun 36 hours together, sharing stories of our experiences of Russia along with vegemite and Powderfinger CDs. We were stuck at the Russian - Mongolian border for 9 of those 36 hours for the regulation customs procedures, but that gave us a chance to get off the train and stretch our legs, watch a stow-away be carried off by police kicking and screaming, kick the footy and hacky-sack with local merchants and spend our remaining roubles on chocolate from a Russian man using an abacus instead of a cash register.We eventually arrived in Ulaanbaatar at 7am, greeted at the platform by a smiley Mongolian lady called Bymba who ran the guesthouse we were staying at. She drove us back there and plonked our bleary-eyed bodies in the kitchen and served us tea and bread with cheap Mongolian imitation Nutella (or Notella as I preferred to call it ).At this point I'm going to revert to trusty ol' bullet points to give a bit of background information on Ulaanbaatar and Mongolia:o Ulaanbaatar means 'Red Hero' and was renamed this in honour of the communist triumph in 1924 when Mongolia was declared independent from China (although it was to now become a slave to the Soviet Union).o The Russian influence is still present today - they rebuilt the city in typical Soviet style (lots of monstrously ugly apartment blocks), knocked down almost all of it's historic temples and monasteries, and introduced the Mongolians to vodka (and hence reducing their life expectancy by 20 years) and also the cyrallic alphabet (which we eventually got the hang of - not that hard if you can remember that 'B' is actually a 'V', 'H' is an 'N', backwards 'R' a 'Ya', the space invader alien a 'D', and the spidery thing a phlegmy 'kch').o Mongolians consider themselves Asian by ethnicity but western by culture. Some scientists believe them to be the ancestors of the Native American Indians and this is evident not only in anatomic attributes but in their mastery of the horse and the bow and arrow.o The most skillful (and brutal) of Mongols horsemen was Chinggis Khaan (incorrectly known to us as Ghengis Khan) who united the horseback Mongol tribes in the 13th century and went on the cause much pillage across Asia and Eastern Europe (obliterating 30% of Central Asia's population in the process) as he established the largest empire the world has ever known. The rest of Europe were packing themselves as they watched on and were spared only by luck, when both Mongol leaders were killed and custom dictated that all decendents of Chinggis return to Mongolia to elect a new leader.o Today Mongolia is one of the world's newest democracies and a model for other developing nations. It was recently rewarded with admission to the 'Millennium Challenge Account', G.W. Bush's multi-billion foreign aid program designed to spur growth in low-income countries that display good governance and democracy (who would have thought he'd be interested in an oil-barren country?).o The concept of surnames is a relatively new phenomenon in Mongolia, as the communist government had forbidden pre-existing clan names since the 1920's in a effort to suppress loyalties based on lineage that might supersede the state. Once free from Soviet rule and realising that suranmes might be of use (in registering taxpayers and preventing inbreeding) the government ordered that every Mongolian to start using their clan name. As most people had forgotten theirs over the generations, an identity crisis lead to a boom in amateur genealogy, as families went back to their villages to retrace their roots. Nearly a third of the population now claims to be a 'Bojigan', the clan name of Chinggis Khaan.o Gandantegchinlen Khiid, which roughly translates as the 'Great Place of Complete Joy', is the largest monastery in Mongolia (the smallest just down the road is known as the 'Centre of Shaman Eternal Heavenly Sophistication'). Like most others, it was destroyed by in 1937, and was only restored in a hurried fashion when US Vice President Henry Wallace asked to see a monastery during his visit to Mongolia in 1944. Today it is home to around 500 monks. Most of the ones we saw were either chanting, taking payment from locals in return for blessings or cycling through the latest ringtones on their mobile phones.o The Monastery's main attraction is the Mogjid Janraisi, a 26.5m high, 20 ton statue made from copper, guilded with gold and over 500m of silk. It also contains precious stones, 27 tonnes of medicinal herbs, 334 sutras, 2 million bundles of mantras and a complete ger tent complete with furniture. The statue dates back to 1996, when it was built to replace the original that was seized by the Soviets in 1937 and melted down to make bullets.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/brad_and_mel/return_to_oz/1130850000/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/brad_and_mel/return_to_oz/1130850000/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/brad_and_mel/return_to_oz/1130850000/tpod.html Fri, 02 Dec 2005 06:44:33 -0500 Return to Oz: via Eastern Europe and the Trans-Siberian Railway

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Yekaterinberg, Russia

Mel:Between St Petersburg and Beijing, Brad and I travelled for 135 hours on trains! Sounds like enough time in a constricted space to send anyone a bit batty, but it turned out to be one of the most enjoyable aspects of our time in Russia/Mongolia/China. We brought cards, checkers and mini-battleship for the long trip, but didn't once bring them out. The time passes too quickly and a few times Brad or I wished we could just stay on and watch Siberia role by for another day and night. Ways we spent the time include reading, writing, thinking (sometimes too much), singing Billy Joel (me) and Lisa Lobe (Brad), taking photos out the window of snow covered aspens and iced up lakes, looking at people, fighting, visiting the toilet, trying to communicate with Russians, drinking beer, sleeping and eating. To begin with, there are several classes of train travel available in Russia, and because we were mainly doing overnight trips we opted each time for 'kupe' class. This is relatively cushy train travel. The third class option is a bed in an open train carriage, sharing with around 40 other people, often Russian or Mongolian traders with stacks of bags of stock. Kupe is a compartment with four beds (two sets of bunks), a small table, storage space and a lockable door. Buying tickets for our first few trains was a challenging aspect of the trip, as most ticket sellers don't speak English and of course we had no Russian. We worked out after the second purchase that the simplest option was to write out the ticket request in Cyrillic script and hand it mutely to the seller, hoping our Cyrillic said what we hoped it did! Many of the train and metro stations in Russia are works of art, and this is not just in large European Russian cities. The high ceilings of waiting rooms drip with chandeliers and murals depict victorious workers striding forward into a bright Socialist future. The question at the forefront of our minds as we boarded each train was "Who will our traveling companions be this time?". We were really fortunate to share compartments with people from an interesting cross section of Russia society. St Petersburg to Moscow we had two gruff businessmen who spoke no English and communicated with us in grunts and humphs. A little boy in the compartment next door, Nikita, from Moscow would run in at intervals to repeat English phrases and questions his glamorous leather-clad mother had just taught him. On the 46-hour train trip between Omsk and Irkutsk we first shared with a couple our age from a city on the Trans-Siberian route called Tyumen. They were traveling more than 1000 km to Novisobirsk to buy a cheap car which they would then drive home. The girl was silent but her boyfriend, who spoke English, flicked through my book of Russian short stories and told me that their representation of Russia was "Too serious and too dark." "Give me your email address and I will send you a photo of real Russia, real people." Our next travel companions were a young husband and wife and their eight month old daughter, Tanya. Brad won Tanya over - she wouldn't stop smiling at him for the whole trip! I think when they boarded the train none of us were too happy about the prospect of spending more than 24 hours together in a small box, but we all warmed to each other as the time went on, and we tried to communicate with phrasebook in hand and gestures galore. A 19 year old Mormon from Utah was in the carriage next to us. He had been living in various Russian towns and cities over the previous 10 months and spoke Russian impressively. He was the translator for our carriage. I think the Russian family took pity on us for our diet of 2 minute noodles. While declining our chocolate and instant coffee, they cut us off chunks of sausage; a Ukrainian 'delicacy' which resembled a kilo of raw bacon coated in herb, and a smoked cheese, which neither of us could stomach and Brad disposed of with all the skill of David Copperfield. A figure who played a big role in our Trans-Mongolian journey was the carriage attendant, who's job description includes collecting tickets, keeping the carriage clean and helping you on and off the train. The relationship between the Western train traveller and the carriage attendant­ had a child-parent dynamic, with, on our side, a constant child-like attempt to 'push the boundaries' beyond seemingly ridiculous limitations and on the attendant's side­, nag nag nagging and constant sighs at our 'ignorance'. Things we were busted for: - Opening train windows. - Putting feet on the door (ok, this one is fair enough). - Tipping water in the wrong hole. - Taking water from the wrong tap. - Obstructing the attendant in his or her duty of vacuuming (for this we would be punished at times with a not too subtle whack of the vacuum head to the ankle). - Getting off the train at a station break without hat or gloves. - Being in the wrong place at the wrong time where the attendant was in a grumpy mood I didn't mind this bossing so much when the attendant/parent fulfilled their end of the bargain but often they lacked in maternal/paternal instinct as well as basic hygiene. For instance: - Not cleaning the toilet, ever - Kicking us out of our compartment so that they could have it to themselves. - Locking the one clean toilet for personal use. - Making fun of us, rolling eyes and muttering curses in Russia. - When toilet paper ran out, refusing to replace with an entire roll, instead holding sternly while you broke of the required number of single ply metal-textured pieces (and you never took as much as you needed because you didn't want them to imagine you doing a number two!) The final aspect that sticks in my mind is eating. We would board each train with plastic bags full of noodles, chocolate, milk powder and instant coffee, as well as water and beer, and Smash to keep up the vegetable intake. There is a restaurant cart on most trains and this is where we would head when we could take no more MSG and preservatives. Most of the food on the menu would not be available, so you took what you could get. A lot of the food carriages were decked out like proper restaurants, with fake wood panelling and lots of decoration. The food we tried was pretty good. The other option meant waiting for the next train stop, in the hope that little ladies would be waiting to sell you anything from juices and crisps, to smoked fish, and even full meals wrapped in plastic, which they had just cooked at home.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/brad_and_mel/return_to_oz/1131379200/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/brad_and_mel/return_to_oz/1131379200/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/brad_and_mel/return_to_oz/1131379200/tpod.html Fri, 02 Dec 2005 06:09:46 -0500 Return to Oz: via Eastern Europe and the Trans-Siberian Railway

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Listvyanka (Lake Baikal), Russia

A few facts about Lake Baikal:- The world's deepest lake (1637m).- The world's oldest lake (20 million years).- Contains one fifth of the world's fresh water.- Experiences over 2000 mini-earthquakes each year.- Contains thousands of species of fish, animal and plant, 2000 of which are unique to the lake, many of them still yet to be studied.- The most extraordinary fish found so far in the lake is the Golomyanka, which looks like a high-speed train with it's long sloping head. It can endure the immense pressures at the very bottom of the lake, swimming freely where - according to local scientists - you'd have trouble firing a cannon ball.- Baikal is growing at a rate of 5mm a year, which doesn't sound like much until you multiply that by it's depth and 636 km length, equalling an extra 20 million cubic metres a year.- The lake is also totally free of pollution thanks to an ecological process performed by tiny crabs (1mm wide). You can even buy bottled Lake Baikal drinking water, taken straight from the lake.See photos above.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/brad_and_mel/return_to_oz/1130068800/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/brad_and_mel/return_to_oz/1130068800/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/brad_and_mel/return_to_oz/1130068800/tpod.html Fri, 02 Dec 2005 05:57:27 -0500 Return to Oz: via Eastern Europe and the Trans-Siberian Railway

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

St. Petersburg, Russia

Brad:Founded by Peter the Great as his 'window to the west', St. Petersburg is the most European of Russia's cities and the perfect place to ease ourselves into 3 weeks in the world's biggest country.Once regarded as one of Europe's grandest capitals, the last 100 years have been hard yacka for St.Pete and a flick through the page's of it's 20th century history is depressing to say the least...Overcrowding, poor sanitation and horrendous working conditions led to widespread strikes and political protests, culminating in the 'Bloody Sunday' Masacre in January 1905 when a non-violent strikers march to petition the Tsar in the Winter Palace was needlessly fired on by gaurds, killing hundreds and sparking the revolution that would put Russia under the control of the barbaric Bolshevik party. Over the next 80 years, anyone who didn't surrender complete aligence to the powers that be would be either exiled to Siberia, worked to death in slave labour camps or simply disappear in the 'dead' of the night. The total number of Russian to have succumbed to this fate is estimated to be at least 20 million.St.Petersburg also suffered enourmous losses during World War II. Hitler's troops besieged Leningrad (as the city was then known) from 1941-44 and although many people were evacuated, approximately 1 million people lost they lives due to shelling, starvation and disease during the '900 days'. (As a comparison, the USA and UK suffered a total of 700,000 casualties between them during the whole of World War II).This were so dire that when there were no cats or rats left they resorted to eating glue off the back of wallpaper...I'm glad to report that today St.Petersburg is a much happier place, buzzing wth a revived sense of national pride and optimism for their future in the free market. Much of the city has undergone restoration in recent years, though I suspect that the Puppet Hostel is still awaiting it's post-Soviet face-lift. We arrived at our home for the next few days on the top floor of a grey cob-web filled Soviet building above a Puppet Theatre in the pitch black darkness of 8am (St.Petersburger's have a month of near darkness to look forward this Christmas, trade-off for their 'white nights' in August when the sun doesn't set at all). Thankfully the kind staff let us check in early, so after a power-nap to recover from our overnight bus we took to the streets in search of sustanance.With little to choose from (on average only 1% of Russians eat out more than once a year) we try our luck at Russia's Soviet-time McDonald's equivalent. It's still state owned to this day, portions are ration-esque small in size, burgers are rep[laced with pancakes, fried with dumplings and everything is served with a healthy dollop of sour cream.We start our first afternoon getting acquainted with the sights and smells of the city (see photos) before a 4pm sundown and a premature hunger for some 'real' food lead us into a very local-looking Russian restaurant. Shortly after we place our order a black limousine with dark windows parks out front and soon we are sharing the otherwise deserted restaurant with 2 large gold-chain wearing Russians and their team of 4 dark suited bodyguards (that's in addition to the 2 other bodyguards who are waiting outside with the limo). They received their meal the second they sit down. We are still waiting for a drinks 10 minutes later. I try not to look in the bodyguards direction while ever-vigelant (paranoid) Melanie flicks through the 'dangers' section of our Russian guidebook. As Bodyguard No.1 answers a ringing mobile and presents it to one of his heavy-set bosses, a wide-eyed Mel informs me that "St.Petersburg is one of the most dangerous cities in which to operate a business as it is not the local council but the Mafia who really run the city".Minutes later a second limousine pulls up and in walk 2 more Mafiosos and all manner of man-kisses and secret handshakes are exchanged. Still waiting for our drinks while the Mafia-table tuck into their desert, Mel's increasingly sweaty palms hand me the guidebook and I read that there are believed to be around 8000 mafia-related gangs operating in Russia and shoot-outs between rival gangs are 'not uncommon'.With this new snippet of information Mel's paranoia finally becomes contageous and we agree that we will be a lot more comfortable away from the closing of shady deals. A quick consultation with the phrasebook to say 'sorry, emergency, must go' and we're out of there, trying not to make eye-contact with the toughs standing by the limos on the way out.Once we make it to the end of the street we share a chuckle and look around for Plan B. The only thing in sight is an Irish Pub, so we cut our losses and go inside. Turns out the only thing Irish about the place is that they serve Guinness. After downing the most expensive pint of Black Stuff in Europe we opt for the universal cop-out food of all nations - doner kebabs.We spend the next 2 days exploring St.Petersburgs biggest drawcards - the Russian State Museum and the Hermitage. Housed in the Winter Palace and 4 other connected buildings, the Hermitage is one of the world's premier art galleries and definitely one of the vastest - the Winter Palace alone has 1057 rooms. The entire collection contains over 3 million catalogued works, and there's only room for 10% of them to be displayed at a time. One figure thrown around is that if you were to look at each piece for just a few seconds each, it would take you 18 months to see the entire collection.Our for days were not nearly enough time to even scratch the surface of what St.Petersburg has to offer. When we weren't in museums or colourful onion-domed cathedrals our senses were being bombarded by the bustle of city life in post communist Russia. The open-market has brought with it all the trappings of the western world - enourmous advertising billboards - many in English - displaying everything from mobile phones to the latest Gucci range (although authentic animal fur is very much the clothing of choice as our photos shall reveal). Sales are booming as people who lived through the oppressive Soviet era make up for lost time and indulge in material goods they could have only dreamed of 15 years ago. A chat with an english-speaking local on a trains reveals that althoughmost city-dwelling Russians cannot afford it, priority is given to purchasing items that give the 'impression of wealth'- living for today with almost no emphasis on saving or investment. He tells us that this is changing however, with the emerging generation consumed with thoughts of the future and putting a lot of importance on education to compete with the established nations of the west.To give you some idea of what he's on about, here's some excerpts from an amusing and loosely relevant article we came across in a copy of St.Petersburg's english street press, interviewing the 'super kids' of St. Petersburg:Anton Ivanov, 11, of School No.590 has been studying economics since age 6, and believes that pensions must be raised, taxes must be paid and welcomes increased investment in youth education.Egor Suvorov, 10, of School No.550 has created several computer programs including a game called 'Battle on the Flowers', and studies 3-D modelling. He owns 3 computers but no TV, and surprised his mother when at the age of 5 he asked her to read him the user's manual for Visual Basic instead of bedtime stories.Kristina Akinshina, 12, of School No.349 has been a model since the age of 8. She spends her spare time reading glossy magazines, closely studying various models, but wants to 'be herself'. Under favourite clothes she stated: "Expensive ones, but can't afford it yet". Favourite Music: Mozart, Bach, Linkin Park.Future plans: Does not intend to spend her whole life modelling but considers it a good paycheck.Special personal qualities: Very humble, very flexible - easily does the splits.Quote: "It doesn't matter how good the clothes are if they're not displayed well".
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/brad_and_mel/return_to_oz/1131201000/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/brad_and_mel/return_to_oz/1131201000/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/brad_and_mel/return_to_oz/1131201000/tpod.html Thu, 01 Dec 2005 21:44:23 -0500 Return to Oz: via Eastern Europe and the Trans-Siberian Railway

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Irkutsk, Russia

See photos above.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/brad_and_mel/return_to_oz/1131033600/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/brad_and_mel/return_to_oz/1131033600/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/brad_and_mel/return_to_oz/1131033600/tpod.html Thu, 01 Dec 2005 21:22:26 -0500 Return to Oz: via Eastern Europe and the Trans-Siberian Railway

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Omsk, Russia

See photos above.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/brad_and_mel/return_to_oz/1130410800/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/brad_and_mel/return_to_oz/1130410800/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/brad_and_mel/return_to_oz/1130410800/tpod.html Thu, 01 Dec 2005 06:31:35 -0500 Return to Oz: via Eastern Europe and the Trans-Siberian Railway

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Moscow, Russia

.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/brad_and_mel/return_to_oz/1129827600/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/brad_and_mel/return_to_oz/1129827600/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/brad_and_mel/return_to_oz/1129827600/tpod.html Wed, 30 Nov 2005 07:48:10 -0500 Return to Oz: via Eastern Europe and the Trans-Siberian Railway

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Tallinn, Estonia

See photos above.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/brad_and_mel/return_to_oz/1129654800/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/brad_and_mel/return_to_oz/1129654800/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/brad_and_mel/return_to_oz/1129654800/tpod.html Sun, 30 Oct 2005 12:40:43 -0500 Return to Oz: via Eastern Europe and the Trans-Siberian Railway

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Warsaw, Poland

A quick afternoon stopover in Warsaw to check out the 'new' old town, completely rebuilt from scratch exactly how it was before it was flattened during World War II.
]]>