Heading west again

My remaining weeks in Perm were spent meaningfully in the follow-up of our Ural expedition and the translation and creation of German subtitles for the film that was made during our work. I got a good insight into the daily work of Memorial Perm, participating especially in the weekly operative meetings. I helped out in fundraising activities, trying to get  in contact with various German foundations. And finally I took part in taking care of repressed “Babushkas”, by offering them help in cleaning the windows of their appartments.

Old people and the nostalgia for Soviet times

It might seem odd, but it was a very rewarding experience to clean windows, since there is no better way to help the people who really need it and at the same time hear about their life under Soviet rule and oppression. They have endured so much, partly for having been children or descendants of kulak farmers (rich land-owners), intelligentsia or dissidents. And today they are  poor as church mice, receiving hardly any compensation or alleviation of the state. The most they can hope for is formal rehabilitation, and a deplorably small pension. Some of them cried out of gratitude for something as simple as cleaning the windows of their appartment. It was very touching, especially with two elderly sisters who live together in a one-room appartment in a neglected part of Perm. Both of them were adorable, very talkative and educated. One of them had been teacher for Russian literature and the other had worked in the bicycle factory. I felt pity and anger about the injustice that these fine ladies had to finish their lives under such circumstances. In general I noticed among the old people a great feeling of nostalgia when Soviet times were mentioned. I believe that they would wish themselves without fail back into this era if they only were able to.

Street kids

One afternoon, I visited a Center for children, Most Liubvi (Bridge of Love). This Center, which is open to anyone, aims to give street or neglected kids a possibility to spend their free time after school in a sensible, creative and rewarding way. They do a wonderful job in keeping the kids from the street, educating them and giving them direction along the way. The Center is supported by a number of volunteers, among them a few foreign ones. I admired their patience and good-will, because these kids are everything else but easy to handle. I talked a long time to the caretaker of the place, a physician who was not able to find a job in the medical sector and is now taking care of whatever repair needs to be done in the Center. He told me a lot about the industry in and around Perm.

“Bicycle factories” – or where Katyusha rockets “made in Russia” are produced

Also his parents, as so many other people I had talked with, served in the arms industry. Moreover there seemed to be no other employer in the region for decades than this industry or the army. When you served in the army you could get lucky and be stationed somewhere abroad. The Russian army machine has been and still is one of the most exhaustive and powerful employers of the country. Those who served in the closed cities in the arms industry often told their children and others that they worked in factories that produced bicycles. Maybe they did actually produce some bicycles, but looking at the amount of bikes circulating in Perm (hardly any), it must be a very insignificant proportion against the masses of Katyusha rockets and other weapon material that is produced there. Furthermore, these people were deprived of their passports and were only in exceptional cases allowed to travel and hardly ever could they go abroad. The care-taker in addition told me that there are still closed cities or settlements in the Urals, some of which don’t even have a name (just a number) and sometimes they are not even to be found on regular maps.

The importance of the State Railroad Company

During my last weeks I did not have the appartment for myself anymore, because Alevtina  Grigorevna, my host babushka, was working again and therefore she was home quite a bit. Actually, it was not that bad, because I started appreciating her company. She is a very straightforward person, open-minded and quite young in her thinking. So we ended up chatting quite often in the evenings, while making fresh apple juice from the apples of her datcha. I learnt a lot about the national railway. She and her entire family used to work for the State railroad company. It should not be neglected as establishment and institution in Russian life, being also an important employer for great part of society. She told me who can get discounts, travel for free etc. There is a very sophisticated system of benefits for those who have served the nation or have been distinguished. Alevtina Grigorevna  and her husband were able to buy quite a nice appartment due to their work. But nowadays she also receives only a tiny pension, but she is enough dynamic and down-to-earth to job (sarabotat) in order to scabble her budget. She works night shifts as lift woman in some other appartment block. She basically showed me what the proletarian lifestyle looks like, but I was nevertheless amazed by her education. She is well-read and spends her free time reading  heaps of strange books. I became very fond of her, despite her occasional little rude manners, which I ceased noticing after some time.

Cultural life in Perm

I made sure to profit from the good and comparatively cheap cultural life in Perm. Once I treated myself with a visit to the Opera and Ballet Theatre in order to watch Rimsky-Korsakov’s “The Tsar’s bride”. Another time I heard a group of throat singers from Tuva (small mountainous ethnic Republic in Southern Siberia at the Kazakh border and one of my yet favourite destinations), Huun Huur Tu, that performed with an American composer, Carmen Rizzo, to create a magic, divine mix of spherical folk tunes. This music had the potential to carry away…far away. I believe this group will see some success also in the Western world. Then me and a friend, Olya, went to see Bulgakov’s Master and Marguerita. It has always been one of my favourite Russian novels, but this performance was absolutely mind-blowing. Finally on my last day, it was the Russian clown, Slava Polaninov, with his Snow Show, that casted a spell on me.

The new “Russian left”

Quite lucky did I feel about the fact that I managed to meet with  kids and students, who consider themselves part of the so-called new “Russian left”. Their background varies and in Perm they can hardly be regarded representative, but no doubt about it: they are on the rise. Some of them form a university group and label themselves as student union, solidarious with the socialist alternative in Germany and section of the fourth international. Others are eco-anarchists, and yet others claim to be defenders of animal rights (their slogan Animal Liberation means Human Liberation – though I didn’t find out whether they are tied to the militant Animal Liberation Front). What unites them is disagreement and disobedience against authorities. Their activities have been sporadically and weakly organized so far, but they are getting more mobilized. On their agenda are a general protest against the abolishment of cost-free public transport for students in the Perm region, furthermore mobilising for the world car free day not long ago and finally they are mobilizing for a sustainable protest against the legislation project of the government concerning the protection of youth, in which they see the risk of a clear violation of human and civil rights and liberties of young people.

It was interesting to acknowledge that the participants and activists are drawn mainly from already existing subcultures. These are movements which become increasingly worrisome for local authorities and law enforcement organs.

Moscow & St. Petersburg

On my way back to Europe, I decided to spend yet a few days in Moscow and then to profit from cheap Germanwings flights from St. Petersburg, since I have never visited this city.

The night train back from Perm to Moscow was by far not so exciting anymore, since I was already used to this kind of travelling and neither the weather outside nor my train company were particularly inspiring. However, once arrived in Moscow, I was blessed with the most superb weather and wonderful company. A good Kazak friend took me around and there was a lot of nostalgia to visit places where I had been before in 2006 and 2007. Of course, I also noticed the differences the city has undergone since then. Yes, there has been a lot of building, restoring and beautification. And yet, the big contrast between ultimate luxury and screaming poverty has become even more unbearable. Seeing all these old people trying to sell their last possessions on street corners, all these unemployed, junks and given-up people around the stations and right next to it one luxury car after the other and new-rich treating themselves with whatever superfluous there might be – it makes you so angry witnessing all this indifference towards enormous social injustice.

I was not so eager to do traditional sightseeing, so we decided to take it easy and visit just a few, but very particular places, such as Bulgakov’s flat, alternative cafés and music bars, art galleries and museums, the Sakharov Center and the State Gulag Museum.

And here I found once again confirmed that the culture of memory in this country is ambiguous, but compelling enough to eventually claim its rightful stance. Patience is needed, but there are people out there with a good attitude.

I took the night train “two capitals” to St. Petersburg and arrived in the cultural capital of Russia at 6 in the morning, right before the sunrise and the waking-up of the city. I left my luggage at the station and was strolling along the empty Nevski Prospekt, which was fabulous. I was stroked by the beauty of this city, unexpected and incomparably to any other place I had been before. This is not Russia I thought by myself and yet people were still speaking Russian around me.  However, it was not Europe either, there is another atmosphere. People compare it sometimes to Paris or Venice. I believe there is no point in these comparisons – every of these places is unique. Whatsoever, I was very lucky to spend my very last days here in “Piter”, for it resulted in a smooth transition between Russia and Europe. Above all I would never have kept the city in such good memory, had it not  been for my wonderful couchsurfing hosts, Yuri and Liza, who welcomed me in their room of an authentic Russian Komunalka (traditonal communal flat). Later on they told me that in this very room Aleksander Blok, the great symbolist poet, had spent one year of his life. I was delighted. They were among the most hospitable and generous people I have met.

During my very limited time, I spent almost an entire day in the Hermitage, the over-whelming art museum. Then I saw the city from the top of the roof of the world’s third biggest cathedral, St. Isaac, which was absolutely stunning, especially the colours during the sunset. The skies above this city are magic. I will have to come back someday during the “white nights”. I also went to the Tsarist residence of “Peterhof”, outside the city located on the coastline facing Finland. The rest of my time I spent walking, exploring and finding the museum flats of famous poets and writers, such as Fjodor Dostoyevski, Aleksander Blok and Anna Akhmatov. The latter being a symbolic figure – for the beauty and tragedy of this country.

Yet another month of nomadism

Now over a month has passed since my last entry and I have to catch up. I have travelled some 10.000 km in this passed weeks and seen and experienced so much new that I hardly know where to start.

After the summer expedition through the Urals on the traces of the Gulag,, I had little time to reflect.  Now there is more space for it, since I still have an essay due for the brochure that is going to be published on the outcomes of the summer school. Besides that a very interesting film was shot, by a guy that accompanied us during the trip and who sought to capture especially the many interviews that have been conducted during our journey. My role as I found out today is now to take care of the German subtitles, so that the film can be shown to a German audience as well. I do not trust my Russian skills that much, yet, but here they seem to be convinced that I can do it. We will see.

Transsib and the spirit of “living on a train”

Now to my trip to Buryatia and beyond. On 11 August I started the real Transsiberian journey. I crossed the Urals and the border between Europe and Asia. Not that it would be at all noticeable. Still for me this is the essence of Russia: this encounter between Eastern and Western cultures.  This time I had a platskartny billet, and that meant less comfort. I found myself in midst a compartment with 55 other people who live, eat, sleep and walk around this restricted, but surprisingly clean space for several days. There were little kids, even cats and dogs and everywhere it smelled of food, especially of fish when we arrived at the Baikal where everyone was eager to buy the popular dried fish “Omul” on the platforms.  Right away, I was welcome by the fellow passengers in my immediate surroundings, some of whom had already been on the train since Moscow and were even travelling as far as Vladivostok. I was lucky with them, because they remained the same and did not constantly change as further down the compartment.  I realized how informal and easy-going t simple Russian people treat each other on these trains. They addressed each other by their first names and somehow after some days at least in our bunk area we had already become something like a temporary family. Food was being shared, in the evenings there was a lot of vodka drinking. Especially the marine soldier, Sascha, was a funny fellow who animated everyone else. We played cards, drank and discussed a lot of things passionately until late, until those around us who wanted to sleep rightly started to complain. Then there was Lena, a really nice girl in my age, who had lost her first employment in Moscow and was now on her way to Kamchatka in order to hike and change perspectives, as I guessed. We got along immediately and she explained me when I did not understand things.

The scenery did not change much during 3 days of travelling. Sometimes there were pine, most of the time endless birch forests. We crossed giant rivers, drove past villages and we stopped in cities, whose names I had never heard before. The shopping trips on the platform were always a big highlight, especially when you could catch some fresh air every 5 h or so. I was impressed, especially by the nice buildings of the stations in Novosibirsk (which apart from that due to my bible, the lonely planet, is not worth visiting being one of the most dubious Russian cities), Krasnoyarsk (one of the wealthiest regions of Russia) and of course Irkutsk. To be honest before hopping on this train the idea of 3 days and 3 nights horrified me, but actually the time flew by and I indeed enjoyed it, since when I was lucky to be at the window side I found much time to think and read.  And even more importantly, I had the chance to explore Russian culture, which in my opinion does not reveal itself better and in a more intimate context than travelling as the only foreigner in the platskartny compartment of a Russian transsibirsky magistral.

When I had almost arrived in Ulan-Ude, having been glued to the window for hours watching the wonderful landscapes of Lake Baikal and the mountains around it, I became almost sad about the fact that you can do certain things only once in life, such as going for the first time on a Transsib trip, experience this thrill, excitement and fascinate.

Russian individuals

I have met the most diverse people so far. If most of the encounterings were wonderful and really positive experiences of Russian “gastoprimsvto” (hospitality), there were also less pleasant but interesting ones, such as two guys from the Russian Far East I met on the train as well. They had met Sascha and Oleg, my bunk bed neighbours, in the corridor and found something in common in the fact that they all had been serving in the army and therefore decided to drink together one evening. The one of the two was a tall, quite good-looking fellow, but he was totally drunk and in a very sentimental mood, nearly close to tears. When I asked the others, they told me that he had found out that one of his best friends had been killed the day before.  I was pretty shocked and prepared for being understandable and everything, but when I figured that he was actually looking for specific consolation I tried to get away and talked to his companion, Dima. This guy looked quite like a boxer or something and alone at night I would not have appreciated an encountering with him. Since I was in company I thought it was ok. He was delighted to be able to practice his English, which he proudly noted to have studied in prison. He sat for several years and is a  fan of the army and Russia’s greatness. The longer I talked to him the more uncomfortable I grew, but for the sake of learning more about some dark aspects of this country I kept listening. After a few more shots he was quite fine with telling me that he actually does not remember anymore how many people he has killed in his life. Where he is from, he said proud, either you kill or you are being killed. It became clear that he had a very belligerent character. Wars are inevitable, he declared.

The omnipresent importance of the army

And Russians in particular were warriors, he said.  There is great faith in the strength of Russian military and then Dima underlined that the majority of Russians were more than prepared to refrain even from certain amenities  in life in order to pay tax many for the army.  Another piece of wisdom he shared with me  was that the Russian soul resembled a big bear who was quite peaceful when he slept, but as soon as someone tried to annoy him or wake him up he could become cruel and ruthless. The longer I stayed in Russia, the more I understood what an important and indispensable stance army and military have in this country. Especially surprised was I when by chance I peeked into a class-room of a Buryat village school that was a specialized room for military education. A big sign hung on top of the blackboard telling in red letters that “Patriotism and the belief in war duty is the foundation for the protection of the fatherland”.  Around the class room there were big posters that explained the construction of a hand grenade, how to handle a machine gun and how to protect oneself using oxygen masks and air-raid shelters.  The question that comes up is what kind of war do they prepare their young school kids for?

China – the big threat?

One other prognosis I heard not only of Dima was that one of the next wars would be initiated by the Chinese. Russians do not fear anyone as much as the Chinese. Also later on in Siberia I noticed the particular attitude Russians there have towards this neighbouring nation, with whom they however built up tight cooperation, as for example within the Shanghai Cooperation Organisation. They are afraid of Chinese taking over in Siberia. Looking at the demographic factor this is probably not an unjustified fear.  I also noticed travelling around Baikal that most of the construction work, be it private building  of datchas (summer houses), hotels etc., be it the State or local communities issuing road construction (many of the streets in the northern Baikal region are despite growing tourism still  dust roads and travelling is very tiresome) are being executed by Chinese labour force.  Once I was hitch-hiking with an Italian guy from the work-camp. We wanted to get to a place in the middle of the Eastern shore of the lake and the only one who stopped was a Chinese truck. It was quite an adventure, because the Chinese fellow did not speak a word of Russian, not mentioning any other language. Consequently communication was impossible and the poor fellow could not even point out on a map where he was going to. We found out later that he was carrying asphalt for the street and was just travelling back and forth the same street, therefore he did not know anything else. Unfortunate for us, after a relatively short long distance he just let us out at the furthest end of the asphalted new street. We were in the middle of nowhere and did not how to continue further, neither did we know whereabouts we where and how far it was to the next settlement. The entire team of Chinese construction workers who were the only people on the spot remained speechless when asked, for nobody understood anything else but Chinese. Eventually we were picked up by a Russian Volga with chatty people inside who nevertheless charged us for taking us further.

Ulan-Ude, the capital of Buryatia

Having arrived in Ulan-Ude, the capital of the autonomous Republic of Buryatia and the city with the biggest Lenin head in the world, I immediately immerged into the work-camp, organized by the NGO Siberian Creative Group. The first week was almost entirely reserved for a seminar on intercultural and human rights issues.  I almost regretted having signed up for this project since my real interest was in Buryat culture, the region, the people, their language and religion and not listening to topics I  heard many times at university. Although the weather was beautiful outside we spent our days inside an alternative theatre. That was a little sad, also due to dense programme I found little time to stroll around Ulan-Ude.  The group was quite fun, the majority Europeans (of course Germans), some Russian (from other regions) and a few Buryat participants. I was living with one of the Buryat participants, Ayuna, in the empty flat of her aunt.

Buryat culture and identity

Anyway, it turned out to be not that bad after all. We received some information on the culture of the Buryat, an ethnicity that is most of all related to the Mongolians and in the majority of Buddhist belief. The ethnic Buryats are however in the minority of the overall population of the republic. There was an expert who spoke to us about the particularities of the Buryat language, a Turkic language that has been and still is subdued by state authorities. Although it is peoples’ first language on the countryside it is still not widely taught in schools. I found it particularly astonishing that when I asked for a study book in the city’s bookshops, it was impossible to get hold of one.  Another expert talked to us about the history of Buryatia. Never was I taught that much about the Russian colonization history and I became aware of for the first time that the Russian Federation might indeed be one of the last remaining empires. To listen to this historian, who was clearly passionately dedicated to Buryat identity, made it clear how hard their destiny has been and still is in front of the Russian colonizer and how hard they have been fighting to avoid assimilation. Another plus was the acquaintances with two local (ethnic) Russian girls, that are political and human rights activists. They had a lot of stories to tell about the abuse of power by authorities  and the lack of freedom of speech. They are facing themselves a trial having been accused of geminating “extremism”.  I learnt a lot from them and was surprised to see how they defended the Buryat cause going as far as demanding a referendum for Buryats to decide on self-determination. All in all, the seminar turned out to be a passable preparation for our two-week journey through Buryat villages.

Travelling through Buryat villages

However, it was something totally different when we were actually in the villages. Despite a clear lack of organization, a number of misunderstandings with locals and mishappenings during our cultural evenings that we organized in the villages, constant problems with the registration of our passports (the law says that every 3 days you are in a new place you need to register) and unusual living conditions, I can say for myself to have enjoyed it a lot. I am not so sure about the other participants who maybe came with bigger more romanticized expectations and were not prepared to be able to shower/wash completely in a banya once every 5 days.  Also the food situation was complicated sometimes. Not a lot of fruit and vegetable, hence people quickly turning sick – me included.  When we wanted to provide ourselves in the village shops which were mostly unofficial little businesses by local inhabitants, we found out that it was not very fair either to buy off their entire stock of fruit (anyway only apples), eggs etc. and leave nothing for the rest of the population.

It was interesting to see that Buryats, who were originally Nomad people living on cattle herding, have abandoned their Soviet time Kolchose-centered agricultural lifestyle.  The big agricultural machines are rusting away outside on meadows, and locals returned to a more indigenous life style, thus hardly growing any crops or orchards for which the soil is anyway not fertile enough.

We slept most of the time in schools and stayed altogether in 4 villages in the southern region of  Muchoschibirsk. The tiny villages, Bom, Nasartui and Hoschun-Uzur, had mostly not more than 300 inhabitants. Local people mostly welcomed us with great hospitability.  People were especially keen to show us around in their local museums, which was a must even in the tiniest village, where it was located usually in a separate part of the school. It was good to see how proud they felt to tell us foreigners about their past, local particularities and traditions. Besides that we were constantly besieged by hordes of local kids who loved playing us and even more being entertained all day long. Besides that we executed little manual tasks for locals. The guys for example helped building a garage and also “helped” the village men drink vodka at various occasions, such under the pretext of going to harvest.  We, the girls, were pulling out weed in the school gardens or building and painting fences, which was also a great way of feeling productive and quite meditative ;-).  I enjoyed it. These were also the ways to get most easily in touch with locals and not as we had initially planned through formally organized and prior announced cultural evenings. We did those as well. There we talked about our respective countries, showed pictures, did quizzes, sang, danced and most of the times ended with a disco for the village youth (which for them obviously was the highlight). Sometimes these events were more and sometimes less successful.

Anyway, the highlight for me was when we were actually invited into local homes.  And what contrasts we encountered there. While the daily life style in this part of the world is still relatively primitive. An entire family lives normally in a one-room house.  Running water does not exist. The sink is normally somewhere attached to the walls with a more or less big canister on top and a bucket underneath. The water they carry regularly from a local source. Toilets are as a rules in the Turkish style located outside. And this is not only in Buryatia the case, but Russian style wherever outside the cities. Quality standards vary considerably!  In the middle of the home there is usually a big oven, essential of course during severely cold winters. The houses are all wooden, but seem to be quite well traditionally isolated with moss. Despite this simple style of life, all young kids have the newest mobile phones and in the homes you find flat screen TV sets connected to satellite receivers and digital cameras, the most precious possessions next to the car, which however remains a rare luxury good.

Another great coincidence was when we were invited to a local wedding. This was just the perfect way to celebrate and party with the people.  Fortunately, we did not witness the end of the wedding party, but considering the amount of vodka which had already been consumed in the afternoon, I was not surprised anymore that a significant proportion of the village men carry scars from broken noses.  Of course we witnessed a lot of alcoholism in the villages, but it was not  as bad as some of the other girls tried to imply, that it was dangerous at night to be out alone as a girl. Of course I did not provoke anything, but I seldom encountered real harassment by drunkards.

Endless steppes, freedom and the fatality of comparisons

In one of the villages I even got to ride a real Buryat horse – they are famous for their strength. And this was a real treat for me, because I had been dreaming of that even before coming. Wild horses I only once saw from a bus window. Nevertheless, also domestic horses were around everywhere trotting along wherever they felt like going. It was a wonderful feeling to gallop across the big wide meadows. As a matter of fact I have seldom felt as free as walking or hiking outside these villages, which are located in the middle of endless steppes around them nothing but infinite landscapes, normally the next settlement at least 10 km away.  It is a great wealth to have so much infinite land, that’s what I always tried to tell the locals when they asked me where life is better “here or in Germany?”. I don’t know how many times I have been asked that question. I have become more imaginative in my answers, but it remains a difficult question. Of course I feel more comfortable back in Europe, but isn’t it always difficult to compare so difficult settings and preconditions? Whether they believed me when I told them that I envy them for the vastness of their lands, the purity and originality of the nature and that curiously I could feel more free here than in our densely populated cities – I doubt, but I hope at least they became a little prouder of their native land and less inclined to unfavourable comparisons.

However, there remained always a questionable feeling of pity for some of the people. Many of them have never been to Moscow and the furthest they got to was to Ulan-Ude. They clearly have no picture of what Western life is like, but TV and other mediums suggest in one way or the other that their life is not as good. It is a shame, because there is so much potential out there and they do not have taken on the whole civilizational misery, yet.

Meeting the Lama

One of the last happenings in the villages was the encounter with a real Lama. He came from Mongolia and had a woman with him who translated into Russian. He ate with us dinner and was prepared to answer to any questions we had. It was clearly interesting, because I had an entire different image of a Lama. In Buryatia Lamas act a lot like Shamans. Therefore it turned out that those familiar with Buddhism were just waiting for him to receive us in individual séances to make predictions and tell other particular insights. To some he told their Mantra, too. Although I am not that much into superstition, I enjoyed listening to his prayers in soothing Mongolian and found it nice what he told me and the way he gave me some piece of advice for the rest of this year. Moreover, I had to find  9 black and 9 white stones and had to throw them in his presence the next morning in my respective good and bad directions.

The magic Lake Baikal

After we came back to Ulan-Ude, we immediately set of the next day to Lake Baikal. Actually this trip was not really part of the work-camp anymore and the group had already become smaller. We spent a couple of really relaxing days on the border of this magic water. If it was not for the absence of mussels, salty water and palms, it could easily be mistaken for the seaside. There are sandy beaches with pine trees reaching the shore and waves breaking onto it constantly, creating a relaxing and soothing atmosphere. There are even sea gulls. The water is so clean and pure that you can drink it, if it is not close to a port. However, you become immediately aware of its sensitivity and fragility, threatened as our entire planet by careless human pollution and littering. It is so unfortunate. But now it is still the time to enjoy Baikal in its uniqueness.

Only three of us, Michael from Germany, Inti from Italy and me continued further North with destination Sveti Nos, a peninsula famous for its natural beauty and high mountains. We had a great trip up there, spent a night in a marvelous private home, joined a beach party at night with the obligatory bonfire, but unfortunately reached only the very beginning of this huge national park. There was not easy moving there without private transport. There were only two options spending much longer there to allow enough time for hitch-hiking or chartering an expensive excursion. We decided to leave and keep it for the next time to return there.

Datsan

On my last day in Ulan-Ude, we visited a great Datsan (temple complex) called Ivolginsk. It is one of the most important religious centers of the Republic where a dozen of Lamas teach hundred young monarchs in Tibetan language with the goal to preserve old traditions, keep Buddhism alive in the Republic and assure its heritage in present-day orthodox dominated Russia. We enjoyed a great guided tour in English and learnt along the way some new details about Buddhism.

Travelling westwards again

After I left Ulan-Ude on the Transsiberian train “Baikal” and travelled again westward (my healthy direction according to the Lama), once more in very pleasant company (Kostja from Sankt Peterburg and Andrew from London). I made four stops on my way back to Perm. The first one happened to be the unofficial capital and old Cossack city, Irkutsk, where I visited the Decembrist museum I had already learnt a lot about during my Russian language lessons in Paris. I only had a few hours and did not more but stroll down the main streets, among them Ul Karla Marksa and Ul Lenina. As a matter of fact in 99 % of Russian cities the main streets are  named identitcally. The second stop was in Yekaterinburg, a surprisingly young, thriving and modern city that bears much history at the same time, having been the place where the Romanov (Zarist) family was brutally killed by Bolshevists and thrown into a dysfunctional mine some 16 km north of the city in 1918. I stayed there with a friendly couchsurfing host, Lena.

The haunting city Magnitogorsk

Then I realized a plan that suggested itself to me while inspecting the Russian map on the train. I noticed that the city of Magnitogorsk was for Russian standards relatively close to Yekaterinburg, only (!) around 450 km southwards towards the Kazakh border. Since I have read a book sometime ago about the unbelievable efforts to found this city in the early 1930s, I was curious to visit it. As part of a giant Stalinist project under the dictum of creating a new civilization, the city was built up around one of the biggest metallurgical plants in the world – in the middle of nowhere near the Kazakh steps. Generations of forced labour lived for decades in barracks until the city grew out of nothing, under great pressure from the center in Moscow and under disfavourable conditions and complications.

“Mushestvo” or Russian manliness

Present-day Magnitogorsk is still a haunting place, with the majority of the population depending and working for the metallurgical “Kombinat”, which has also been effected by the late crisis, having turned down production to 50%, according to rumours. I visited the Soviet Great Patriotic War Memorial, Tyl Frontu, which is the most enormous one I have ever seen, overlooking the industrial panorama of the Kombinat beyond the river – impressive! In Magnitogorsk, I met Sergei and his sister Nastia who spontaneously became my tourguides. They were both really kind and sweet and showed me what there was else to see. Then they brought me to the train station, where Sergei told me during a last fare-well beer, that I should watch out for one thing in a man: amidst other qualities, he should be able anytime to go into a forest, chop a tree, make a fire, provide for me and assure survival. He then underlined that any Russian man who has been to the army could do this. Therefore I should consider that the Russians are not the worst option after all. I was glad however noticing that he was laughing while telling it, not taking himself too seriously.

Ufa – the capital of Bashkortostan

From Magnitogorsk I travelled by night train to Ufa, the capital of the autonomous and proud republic of Bashkortostan. I was thrilled by the fact that the native people, that means the indigenous Turkic Bashkir people, have been able to insist much more on the presence of their language in their daily lives as e.g. in Buryatia. Thus, in Ufa all street names and signs are generally kept bilingual. Even the announcements in the bus station are in two languages. It was interesting to listen to this language and the local people, who when they are ethnic Bashkir even speak Russian with a clear accent.  Moreover, I noticed the huge quantity of banners around the city with uniting slogans for the Russian nation –  most likely sponsored by the government party “Edinaya Rossija”. The Russian Federation is not such an evident entity as it is mostly estimated in Western countries.

From Ufa I took a very boring bus back to Perm who stopped in at least one million villages. I was glad to be back eventually in Perm, which already feels a little like home. I am overwhelmed with impressions  (therefore this never-ending entry) and yet some more work ahead of me for Memorial in the coming weeks.

Between past and present

This will be a very short posting, because time is rare these days and online time even more. I have just returned from a week-long expedition with German and Russian students /researchers across the Ural Perm region. We visited three different types of former prisoner camps for forced labour (one of them also served as a GULAG until the mid-50s). Our objective was to uncover the different historic layers of these camps, to trace political repression in the former Soviet Union and to analyse the contemporary dealing with memory and commemoration in form of museum and history education and eventually to find out about the culture of memory in today’s Russia.

We started off by working theoretically the first days in Perm and then set off to visit the museum Perm-36 (the so-called unique GULAG museum on the territory of the former Soviet Union). We then continued to visit another place called “Zentralny”, a closed village in the middle of nowhere where a still functioning  prison colony is located and where a former prison guard set up a small museum of local history, which contains also information about the former prisoner camp ITK-10 that was a predecessor of the present colony. Our task contained not only the analysis of the museums/places of commemoration, but also to interview local inhabitants, former employees and other contemporary witnesses.

The most exciting part of the expedition was when we completely  left civilization and set off for a three- day-trip along  the Ural river Cusovaja on raft catamarans. Our destination was the former prisoner camp “Stvor”, which was located in deep and remote taiga, so that nobody could know about what happened there. It is a place that is almost forgotten these days and the decaying ruins of the few remaining buildings have been overgrown by brushwood and grass – nature has taken over again!  It is fascinating, because people from Memorial have re-erected a sort of tower and set up a so-called “Museum without Guide” where people can rediscover the place and history on their own. A few water tourist stop by there every now and again. It is unbelievable, but in this place it is possible to still go and look for little artefacts yourself. We found a lot of metallic objects, prisoner shoes and metallic bowls in the woods.

I will write more about this journey through history and my experiences later, but now I have to leave, because tonight I will depart for a 3-day trip on the Transsiberian to the Baikal region, namely the autonomous republic of Buryatia (Ulan-Ude). I will literally traverse the magical border between Europe and Asia by train tonight!

Eurasian Adventure Vol. II

My second Eurasian Adventure has started – in fact I am already immersed in my third week in the Russian provincial city of Perm.  Events have been overwhelming lately.  Leaving Denmark, followed by a short transition time at home in Germany and all over sudden  I found myself on the way  to Russia. My mission this time: reveal the mysterious Russian soul ;-) and find out more about the crossroads between Europe and Asia. Maybe eventually finding myself a little bit more and making up my mind about my future endeavors. In the spirit of independence: I search – therefore I travel.

My tentative itinerary: Cologne – Moscow – Perm – Kutchino – Perm – Ural expedition on the traces of the GULAG – Perm – Ulan-Ude – Perm – Moscow – Cologne

On 1^st of July I arrived in Moscow. Almost 9 hours I could spend in the Russian capital, doing errands, getting organized. Fortunately there was even some time  to spend at my favourite place at Patriarchy prudy, thinking about fictional and real scenes having taken place in this corner of Moscow. Then I had a nice cup of tea on the terrace of Café Pushkin and not even 2 hours later I found myself on the Transsibirian Train “Rossija” II to Vladivostok. It was all very exciting to embark this gigantic train at Moscow Yaroslavniy station. The platforms of the long distance trains in direction East were crowded with Asian looking families that were dragging spacious and heavy luggage behind themselves.  Most of them  where not on my train though, but hopping onto the one on the next platform with direction Ulan Baatar.

Although without any specific expectations, I happened to be on a sparkling new, comfortable and well looked after train – maybe one of the best I have ever travelled before.  The image of an overcrowded, loud and dirty train where families with all their life stock travel long distances has been contradicted this time, but was shown to me on the opposite rail. In fact the Ulan Baatar train as I found out later followed the same itinerary as our train, always 10 min behind. The Russian state rail company has invested in comprehensive renovation of old trains.  I should add that I  consider myself lucky to have caught one of the low number (firmeny)  trains who are supposed to be faster and modern.  As a matter of fact I payed way too much for my ticket  and as a result ended up in a car with mainly foreigners or wealthy Russians, although it was only middle class (coupé).

Of course there was the infamous Russian “provodnitza” who is the boss of the car and generally tries to keep her dominion spick and span.  I was lucky  that I had a compartment for myself for most of the time and so I was able to relax from the stressful times preceding this journey, read, review some Russian vocabulary and prepare myself for Perm, the city where I am  to spend a great deal of the coming 3 months, working for the NGO Youth Memorial.

Soon after leaving greater Moscow, the landscape that passed by remained constantly the same – it seems as if Russian trains mainly cut a lane through thick forest, every now and again some lake or village to be seen, sometimes a remote factory on the horizon. It is the  first time that I travel this massive country beyond Moscow. There is so much I do not understand about this nation and its people that I can only hope to bring some light into my ignorance. It is such a vast, sparely populated country, which nevertheless is rich in culture and natural heritage, not mentioning its  resources. I do not get why there is so little interest in the so-called West to better explore the biggest country and one of the oldest nations on this planet.

Already on my first day I got the impression that time stands still in the Russian countryside. From what I could see from my train window, the houses were mostly built in the Russian style, simple wooden huts like in the old Soviet movies. My worries that I would not have enough food with me were unjustified, since my ticket at least included all meals. It was a good introduction into the simple uncreative Russian cuisine, like the type you get served in the “stolovajas” of universities.  It is not supposed to taste well, but to be filling (a lot of wheat and grain stock with some sauce and some drops of vegetables).  Tea was available from the samovar in the corridor, which I  appreciated.

Time passed by quickly and after almost 22 hours I arrived in Perm.  The weather was not very welcoming – cold and rainy.  I was immediately told by Katya and her boyfriend Kolya, both volunteers at Memorial who picked me up,  that this is the capricious Ural climate. I was meant to get to know its extremes yet to come. The young couple hosted me in their old inherited Soviet-type apartment.  We had a nice meal of pirogy in the evening and a couple of beers and then I already fell asleep since I was pretty exhausted and had to get up early the next morning.

Kutchino

On Friday 3 July, I set off with Sergei (who works for Memorial) to Kutchino, a little remote village that is host to Perm- 36, the only functioning Gulag-Museum in Russia.  After a 3-hour drive we reached this soulless village that does not offer more than a few houses with old folk, a psychiatric clinic for mentally deficient men (a really scary place), one shop with a very limited assortment and the above mentioned somewhat misplaced museum – quite a desolate place.

The camp for volunteers where I was to join a two-week work and educational camp for young civil activists is located nearby on the banks of the river Cusovaja. Its location is truly picturesque and impressive if you consider that the entire camp was conceived and erected by Memorial volunteers themselves around 10 years ago. However this romantic setting has to be traded in for a renouncement of usual amenities. I was already prepared to not expect  much and actually I was eager to live a simple life again – literally. However, even me who is used to camp life from previous years had to get used to the idea of putting up with this place for a couple of weeks. We slept in old barracks that were damp, cold and smelly because of the rotting wood. No heating, no running water, no shower, primitive toilets (a little wooden hut with a hole in the ground) and the worst of all millions of mosquitos that are way more aggressive than in Europe.  The fact that there was constant rain for days to come and that there was no other language spoken but Russian did not make it easier or more welcoming. I had to swallow hard.  On my first day  the thought evoked occasionally “Why? Why on earth did I choose to come to this goddamn place?”

It sounds unbelievable, but this camp became an incredibly interesting, new and memorable experience for me. Not only it eventually stopped raining, the temperatures rose from minus 5 during nights (no heating!), the nightly thunderstorms became more infrequent, but we could actually enjoy some sun during the day. However, that was all marginal, important for me was that I learnt from the Russian kids (most of them were younger than me and a few older) how easy they coped with everything and how resistant  and uncomplicated they are. They taught me to appreciate the Russian banja (a type of sauna where you hit each other with birch branches in order to clean the skin and which is just the best after a cold long working day) and how great it is to wash yourself with cold river water; furthermore how unimportant it is what you eat as long as it fills your stomach and the cook feels gratitude; how nice it is to sit around the campfire and sing old Russian anarchical songs of the bardy (songmakers).  Yes, I appreciated these kids who were so polite to include me from the first day on and to help me with my Russian. Very often I did not understand and had to ask for explanations.  Especially repeating anecdotes (that’s how a sort of joke is called in Russia) requires a lot of patience. Ok, I was not the only foreigner; there was a German Zivi, Markus, and an American researcher, Rachel. But both of them are almost fluent in Russian. I got along with them very well and every now and again it was a relief to talk to them in another language but Russian. It was good to find out that I was not the only one who encountered every now and again a little cultural shock.

The main purpose of the camp was to exchange ideas about civil activism and to listen to experts from different sectors who made their way to the camp for a lecture. So almost every day for a couple of hours we had an external guest who talked to us about topics like civil rights and how to reclaim them, myths about democracy, human rights and press freedom in Russia, lessons of tolerance and contemporary education. These lectures were generally followed by long and passionate discussions and I was stunned how enlightened, self-critical and also sadly cynical these young Russians are (while I always had to bear in mind that they are not typical, for they represent a minority of active citizens).  I could not help but learning a lot of things myself and relativising some of my ideas about Russia and generally speaking about the quatus quo of civil society in relation to the State.

The other major part of  camp life was manual labour on the territory of the former Gulag prisoner camp. The work was quite profane. For the girls it meant  most of the time raking dry weed. However, the nature of the work and the unbearable circumstances with all the mosquitos around, plus being surrounded by barbed wire gave a funny feeling and made the experience how it could have been living the life of a political prisoner in such a camp more concrete.

The work was not that dull after all, because we had music with us and when the big tractor came to pick up the grass we could jump from the top into the heaps and after having picked them up with big forks we could ride along on the trailer of the tractor. It felt always good to go back to the camp after a working day, dirty and sweaty – then jump into the river and end the day in the banja.

But what I profoundly disliked during the work was the open gender division – special tasks and work for guys and girls. Obviously the guys were doing hard “men’s work” and the girls were mostly occupied with cleaning up or as mentioned raking weed.  Funny was that none of the girls ever complained, even if the guys always had much more interesting things to do.  It was generally accepted and this gender division continued in other spheres of camp life, for example the cooks were all girls and they continuously worried that the guys wouldn’t eat enough. Although sweet and caring, some of the girls were rather behaving like mothers  and were even proud of it. This was alien to me – not that I cannot be caring – but following the conversations of the girls in the banja I believed myself on another planet. The only one I ever evoked this topic to was Robert, the camp leader. He knew what I meant, but still encouraged the division of gender by the way he assigned the labour.

The rest of the time when we had some free moments at disposal (which was actually quite rare – Russians have the tendency to create always very strict schedules), we played a lot. I generally don’t consider myself too grown up, but sometimes I found it childish in some respect, in another people were not pretentious and did not try to be cool, but simply enjoy themselves and there is nothing wrong with this. For example they organized a version of Eurovision night where everyone had to sing and perform. The other German Markus and me performed “Alles aus Liebe” of “Toten Hosen” ;-).

During the last week, when the weather was finally nice and warm, even so hot that I got quite sun-burnt, we spent more time outdoors and  swam in the river or paddled in a little boat to the opposite river bank (the Cusovaja is as broad as the rhine).  It was interesting that nobody ever dared to go alone anywhere outside the camp. I don’t know if it was really that dangerous (maybe because of the mentally ill nearby), but did not run the risk to disobey.  Even if I had the urge to get out on my own, there was not much I could do or where I could get to even by bike.  The landscape and nature around are stunningly beautiful, but also totally untamed and savage. Part of the village is abandoned and beyond that the pathes are so muddy that there was no coming through and nobody understood what I wanted there anyway. It is interesting to see that Russians like to keep to the existing infrastructure, but if there is none what do you do? Infrastructure so far was something evident to me, but quickly I became aware of the fact that this is one of the biggest problems in this country. Anyway I started suffering a little from too much company. We were all on top of each other and the territory of the camp was too small in order to escape.  The only who understood my urge for some privacy or solitude was the American girl.

The last two days were quite spectacular. We had an inauguration for new volunteers one night ( I haven’t done so much crazy stuff since I was 16), where we had to perform stupid tasks such as walk with closed eyes through nettles, got really dirty and generally had a blast. But this was even topped by the  farewell night which was meant to become a big karneval party. I hated the idea, but was surprised how much fun it became in the end improvising everything from scratch.  Looking back  it must have been one of the most skuril things I have done in a while.

After these two weeks we all got to know each other quite well. I learnt that Russians in the beginning are quite reserved and skeptical, especially with strangers, but once they have taken confidence they become open-minded and –hearted. And I guess I have found a couple of real friends during this camp and I am looking forward to meeting with some of them during my time in Perm and during the expedition in two weeks, where we will try to explore the traces of the Gulag in the Urals together with a group of students from the “Forschungsstelle Osteuropa der Universität Bremen”.

Since a couple of days ago I am actually  in Perm. Memorial had organized an accommodation with a “babushka” (grandmother), which turned out to be not so old after all. I  got lucky, since I practically have an entire apartment for myself. The babushka and her husband spend most of their time on the “datcha” (summerhouse) and just come back the weekend to wash clothes. Alevtelina her name, is a very robust and pragmatic lady. She is an electro-mechanic and together with her husband used to work for the Russian railway, but since her pension is so small she needs some extra income and therefore works also part-time as a liftwoman. By now I got to know almost the entire family, including son Dima, who also works for the state railway. One evening we absolutely had to drink together and I learnt a lot about the life of a railroader and listened to a looooot of Russian anecdotes.

Perm

My first impressions of Perm are very vivid. The permanent smell of burnt petrol immediately evoked this feeling  of “East”,  in the past this smell was closely tied to being in the native country of my mother, Bulgaria. Then  there are specific things that clearly remind me of Uzbekistan. If anything Perm being such a new and exotic place to me, there are also  many familiar things here. Starting with all those discarded German busses that criss-cross the city.

Perm is an industrial town, no doubt, Soviet-style appatment blocks as far as the eye can reach, no money is spent in infrastructure or restoration. Sometimes between streets or neighbourhoods that are not immediately connected,  there is impenetrable nomansland. You get the impression that people are mostly concerned with consumerism. Shops and cheap cafés no matter where you look.People seem bleak, a lot of alcoholism. Beer is sold way to cheap at the numerous street kiosks. You get sad when you see young mothers pushing a pram with one hand and in the other a bottle of beer.

However, there is also development, Lukoil is the dominating corporation in the city providing people with secure jobs. Then the city centre is boasting new glamourous shopping centres. Ok, it is debatable if these are to be considered positive boosts. But what I noticed as well during my first Sunday stroll are the number of interesting museums (I visited the intriguing museum of contemporary art in the former river station) or the many theatres all over the city.

There is definitely a thriving alternative art scence and a lot of movement. Then I found remarkable old imperial and fin-de-siècle buildings which are awaiting their restoration. There is definitely a lot of historical heritage and cultural potential in the city.

Lenin is still omnipresent.

But these are only my first impressions…. I will keep  posting. First of all I have to learn to cope with this weather that changes hourly between heat, thunderstorms and heavy rainfall. For now I have some free days and spend them walking around and sitting at Kentucky Fried Chicken, profitting from free wireless. The plan for tomorrow is to go and listen to a free  poetry reading by Eduard Limonov – no I’m not crazy just curious.