As soon as I arrived to Irkutsk I went to the ticket office to buy my ticket for Moscow. The old lady at the booth wore glasses that were thick as magnifying glasses. She probably had it from the communism period, it looked historic. I showed her a piece of paper which Anya wrote in Russian “1 ticket for Moscow departing in 4days”. She said something in Russian so I asked her if she spoke any English. She looked straight into my eyes and said “Niet! (No)”. Many people cut into the queue as I tried Russian phrases in the guidebook, so I had to wait for 30 minutes. Finally when I bought my ticket, I was surprised with the unexpected check of 250USD. It only cost less than 100USD from Ulan Bator to Moscow but prices sky rocketed when making a transfer. I missed the ferry to Lake Baikal so I went to search for a hostel to stay for the night.
The small hostel near Irkutsk station was run by Katja, a woman in her 30s with a charming smile. Katja was very kind and she helped me by booking tomorrow’s ferry and drawing a map of affordable restaurants when I told her that I wanted to try some authentic Russian food. Katja had a big interest in Japanese culture and literature. She watched many documentaries and was a big fan of authors like Murakami and Abe Kobo. Most of the guests were older Russian men who were more gloomy than quiet. They spoke no English at all. Whenever I stayed at a hostel I loved to make new friends and chat til midnight. However this wasn’t the case in Russia. After coming back from dinner at 10pm, the lights were already off and everyone was sleeping.
The next morning I took a ferry to Bolshie Koty arriving at noon. Lake Baikal was 31,000km large and had many towns and villages on the lake side. Usually tourists from Irkutsk went to stay at a town called Listviyanka. But I wanted to go somewhere not touristy and a bit remote so I chose Bolshie Koty, a village 20km north of Listviyanka which only had one hostel and one shop in the entire village. From there the water of Lake Baikal was crystal clear, but the color looked like an ocean because it was so deep.
Alex, the hostel owner came to pick me up at the ferry port. He was in his 40s, running a hostel by himself. When winter came and Lake Baikal was no longer a place for humans, he escaped to India to practice yoga for a few months. He didn’t speak much and was a little bit eccentric. I met the other guests, 2 Russian girls from Irkutsk. Ksyusha was a trekking guide working at a local travel agency. She came with her friend Leona to stay for 1 night and was heading back to Irkutsk with the afternoon ferry. After I dropped my luggage I joined them for hiking along the lakeside where I enjoyed a panoramic view from a steep mountain. For lunch I made Japanese curry and we ate together.
Until then, my image of Russians was mysterious and cold people. Ksyusha proved me wrong with her bright and cheerful personality. When she was in high school, she did a home stay in Japan for 1 month so she was able to speak some Japanese. Leona was a quiet girl but she helped me a lot with cooking which reminded me of some friends back home. After lunch they made jam from freshly picked berries from the forest and we made Russian tea. I enjoyed chatting with them outside in the terrace. It was a sunny day.
Soon 1 boy and 2 girls carrying backpacks arrived to the hostel. Emre was a Turkish-German guy and Alexia and Romaina was from Switzerland. They all studied at the same university in Zurich and were traveling from St. Petersberg to Beijing on the Trans-Siberian during their summer vacation. Surprisingly Emre and Alexia both studied abroad at a university in Tokyo last year. Emre was even returning to Tokyo after finishing his trip in Beijing to study another semester there. It amazed me how so many people had interest in Japan. I said bye to Ksyusha promising to meet up again in Irkutsk a few days later. In the afternoon I went for a walk with the Swiss friends and enjoyed beer on the lake side.
The next morning I talked to a Kazafstani woman who was staying in the hostel for more than 2months. She was in her 70s, in great shape rocking a yoga suit and a pony tail. She was married and even had grandchildren but didn’t live together with them because traveling was her life and staying at home made her crazy. With the understanding of her husband and children, she spent most of the year wandering. In the spring and summer time she went to India and Asia for 6 months practicing meditation and yoga like Alex. After this she came to Russia to help this hostel for 3 months and spent time with her family in the rest of the time. This was her yearly schedule.
I asked her if she ever felt lonely. “No” she said. “When you spend too much time with your family, you don’t appreciate them and sometimes even hurt each other. So keeping this distance is good for me” She laughed with a cool smile. She said she was looking forward to see her new grandson this year who she only saw on Skype. Meeting cool people with unique minds like her was one of the most exciting things about traveling. I would have never met anyone like her in my home country.
She suggested me to go mushroom hunting. She told me her secret place in the forest so I invited my Swiss friends and went together. In the bushes we saw many kinds of mushrooms which we’ve never seen before. We gathered many into our plastic bags. Although we picked more than 30, most of them were poisonous and only 4 were edible after the check of the hippie grandma.
In the evening we made a cheese risotto using the mushrooms we picked. It was a total success. The rich aroma of the freshly picked mushrooms was amazing. After dinner we went into the banya, a Russian style sauna. Inside smelt very good from the smoke of pine and cedar trees. The temperature was not too hot so we were able to enjoy it for many hours. I learned that in Germany and Switzerland both men and women went into the sauna naked together so I adapted to their style.
The next morning we checked out from the hostel and decided to walk 20km to Listviyanka in order to catch the last ferry to Irkutsk. Alex told us that the road to Irkutsk was an easy hiking path but after walking for a couple of hours, we were hanging on to the edge of a cliff facing the lake 10m below. It was more like rock climbing than hiking because we had to support each other and hold on to a rock. Otherwise we would easily drop off from the cliff. When we felt that it was impossible to continue any further we slowly went back the road we passed.
After coming back to the bay we ate lunch earlier, we found a small sign hanging from the tree that said “DANGEROUS ROAD AHEAD”. Apparently it was an old trekking path that was nowadays only used by locals to make shortcuts. We found the real path and walked a total of 7hrs to arrive in Listviyanka when the sun was setting. It was one of the toughest hikes in my life but I made great memories with my Swiss friends. We shared many stories and laughter on the road. It was priceless.
We encountered another cool grandma in the forest too. She was walking from a village much further than Bolshie Coty with her dog and camping in a tent while she made her way to see her son in Irkutsk. She was walking for more than 3 days with a small backpack. We wondered how this tiny grandmother was able to do such a thing; we were already exhausted for walking just one day.
We couldn’t even make it to the last ferry so we took a mini bus back to Irkutsk. I went back to Katja’s hostel alone. After hearing all my adventures in the forest, Katja shyly handed me a plastic bag saying “Please eat this on the Trans-Siberian”.
It was piroshiki, a Russian pastry filled with fried onions. She remembered when I told her that this was my favorite Russian food and handmade it in the oven for me. “Wow! Thank you so much, Katja. It looks so nice like the ones at the restaurant!” Katja blushed and said “When someone compliments on my cooking I feel so shy and don’t know what to say”. The Russians had the same appearance as the Europeans but sometimes their shy and innocent behavior reminded me of the nomadic families in Mongolia. They had such pure hearts.
I rested my incredibly tired body that night and met up with Ksyusha and the Swiss friends in the city the next day. I promised to visit Alexia and Romaina in Switzerland next month. Emre was planning to go to Japan again so we hoped to see each other in Europe next year.
I dragged my suitcase to the railway station again. This time it had to be the real Trans-Siberian.
