The Prodigal Son Returns (for 2 weeks)

For those loyal readers of this blog (all three of you), I apologize for my posting hiatus. I was on vacation in America, and when I’m on vacation, I’m on vacation. That being said, it was a bit of a working holiday, and if you’ll allow me, I’d like to tell you all about it…

I left on Jan 31, flying from Chisinau, Moldova to Budapest, and then after a 5-hour layover, to JFK. Everything went remarkably smoothly. The airline food was plentiful and tasty, the plane was nearly empty so I could stretch out across three seats, and I even made a new friend.

While I was sitting in the Budapest airport, someone asked me for the time, which started a conversation with a 30-something man, Keiran, who happens to be a former-PCV. He served in the second group of volunteers to go to Mongolia, back in 1992. I told him about my previous vacation there last summer to visit a current PCV friend of mine, and later emailed him some of the photos I had snapped. We spoke on the plane for a couple hours, and it was really interesting to hear from him how Mongolia had been when he was there, his life post-PC, and how he is still in touch with many of the people with whom he served. [This last tidbit bodes well for a potential Uzbek-18 reunion, perhaps in January, 2008.]

My folks met me at the airport, and we stopped on the way home to get some Chinese food – awesome. I nearly fell asleep halfway through the meal as the jet lag set in.

The next day I took in the changes in my house since last I was there: my Dad painted the family room (looks really good, and I’ve already signed up to help with the rest of the house when I come home), there’s a new chair in front of the TV, and Mom has several new paintings that adorn the walls. I also drove – yes, driving a car for the first time in two years – into town and there discovered that there’s a Hilton Hotel, an Applebee’s, and a 10-story apartment complex.

Every time I come home there’s always something new, some good some not. I do appreciate things like having a Staples and a Blockbuster in town, but it’s a shame to see so many shuttered shops along Spring Street in Newton. There are, however, some new success stories along the main street, like the Chocolaterie, started by a local couple, that imports fantastic stuff from Europe and recently opened a second store in New York.

I was home for a few days in Jersey, just getting my bearings, sleeping, and eating. My extended family came to visit on Superbowl Sunday for some bagna cauda, the most amazing meal you could ever eat and a Dakake family tradition. As per usual, it rocked and I gorged myself.

Then it was onto the working end of my vacation: train rides up to Boston to see Harvard Business School, then to NYC to check out Columbia, next to Philadelphia for a special Wharton Winter Welcome, and then on to Washington to celebrate my nephew’s 5th birthday. I really liked traveling by train. The seats were wide and comfortable, plenty of storage space overhead, it’s a smooth ride, there’s electricity sockets, and no need to go through all the hassle of “checking-in” as one must at an airport (to check baggage, get your ticket, and go through security). I bought my ticket online and then printed it out from a kiosk at the train station in about 20 seconds.

I’ll say this for the schools: they’re all amazing institutions with a diverse group of intelligent students. Some of the high points for each school, in my opinion, were that Columbia has the added bonus of being in NYC, Harvard is its own awesome compound, and Wharton students are really involved in all aspects of the school.

Although I was initially concerned about seeing three schools in as many days while I’m supposed to be on vacation, it was definitely a good choice. I was able to sit in on classes, tour the facilities, talk with students, and get a general sense of each school. Should I be admitted at more than one place, I will now be able to make a more informed decision. I am definitely leaning toward one place at the moment, but I’ll wait to hear from each school, particularly their financial aid departments, before making a final decision.

In DC I met up with my folks, David & Maria, Krista, and Gabriel. My nephew is more difficult to carry these days, which could be a sign of his increased size (and weight) or my decreased biceps – probably both. David & Maria’s house, like my parent’s and my hometown, had changed since I was last there. There’s a different TV sitting in a different corner, new couches and a new window are on the bottom floor, Gabriel’s room has a new layout, and there’s a new toaster. And there’s wireless internet, which was very nice. I think more change is coming once my second neice/nephew is born in July.

We also went on a tour of DC monuments, mostly just driving by places like the Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln, WWII, and Vietnam Monuments; Congress; the Smithsonian Museums; the Supreme Court; and most importantly, the Moldovan Embassy, pictured here.

Then it was back up to NJ for a couple days. I got to make a fire in our fireplace, which I love to do. I showed Krista around my hometown and tried to eat as many bagels with cream cheese as possible. There wasn’t really time to see anyone besides family, but fear not (or consider yourself fortunate that I was so short of time), I’ll be back soon. I flew out on the 13th.

Special thanks to my hosts during my tour – M&C in Beantown, Baldi & Gumby in NYC, Kevin in Philly, and Cito in DC.

Kiev II

I left immediately after the avian flu conference to head to Kiev for a business school interview. I took an overnight (double-decker) bus there, which was actually a lot more comfortable than I thought it would be. Sunday I wandered around the city - ate a monstrous hamburger with an oreo shake at TGIFridays - and took it easy. Monday's interview went well - I guess we'll find out how well if I get an acceptance letter - and then I hopped on an overnight bus back to Chisinau.

After my interview I wanted to check out the Chernobyl Museum, as it was only a couple blocks away. Unfortunately the last Monday of each month is the museum's "Sanitary Day," so I couldn't go inside and disturb the cleaning process.

Last time I was in Kiev, it was with fellow PCV Bryan to take the GMATs. We had a good time and I missed my partner in crime this time around. Honestly, it was a bit lonely. So Bryan, perhaps you should reconsider your Christmas travel plans and save up your vacation days to accompany me on 24 hours of bus rides and border checks.

When I got home, I slept for 12 hours - must have been more tired than I thought. I don't remember the last time I did that.

There and Back Again

[Pictured to the right is Kiev's Independence Square, site of many protests during Ukraine's Orange Revolution.]

Bryan and I thought we were so clever. We paid half the price for our return tickets as we did for the tickets to Kiev. Clearly, we were owed this after being unable to purchase said return tickets in Chisinau, ariving in Kiev 6 hours late, and standing in the wrong ticket line - the one for same-day ticket purchases - for a good 30 minutes before the woman behind the glass told us we needed to wait in a nearby and even longer line if we wanted to depart two days hence. So we figured we were owed this unexpected windfall, and reasoned it must be cheaper because we were leaving from a bigger city, Kiev.

"What's prodelnista?" Bryan asks as we wait for our train home. "I think it's the 3rd class kind of ticket. Why?" "Because it's printed here on our tickets." Turns out the tickets were cheaper because we were going home in the general class car - not in a 4-person kupee. It's comfortable enough, but there are four loudly debating Russians at my 2 o'clock. I'm hoping the copious amounts of vodka imbibed an hour ago will soon lead them to a deep drunken sleep.

There's also the guys immediately next to me, who are nice enough. We do the typical things - I show my passpot, explain the PC and my role in Moldova, and demonstrate the multiple uses of my Leatherman, attached at my belt. They throw me a curve ball when I'm criticized for not knowing the name of the firm handling the reconstruction at the World Trade Center site.

I'm glad I never used up my rubles from my trip through Russia. They seem to be the prefered currency among the food sellers at the stations along the way, even though we never actually enter Russian territory. I buy baked potatoes, buns, pancakes, and deserts for Bryan and myself. The rubles also pays for our sheets and pillow cases.

I should talk about Kiev. Bryan and I are there for business, not pleasure. We're taking the GMATs in Ukraine because they're not offered in Moldova. During a PCV's two year period of service, each Volunteer is allowed up to 3 days administrative leave, similar to vacation days, for things like job interviews or grad school exams. We leave Sunday night, arrive Monday, take the test Tuesday, depart Wednesday.

Things go according to plan, minus the 6-hour lateness of our train's arrival. Fortunately, we still pull into town early enough for a quick dinner - at TGIFriday's!!! - and a good night's sleep in our surprisingly spacious room at the St. Petersburg Hotel.

My exam is at 9:30, and we didn't have time the night before to explore and find the exact location of the testing center. We try to do so in the morning, but get separated on the metro. As the doors close with Bryan on the crowded train and me on the equally crowded platform, I tell him to go 4 stops ahead and then wait for me. I follow in the next train 30 seconds later, but find no Bryan when I exit the train. Perhaps he thought I meant to go 4 stops and get off at the 5th? I go one more stop and again no Bryan. At this point, I decide that we'll have to find the testing center separately, as the time of my exam is approaching and his isn't until 1:30.

So I eventually find the place - Tech-Expert it's called - despite there being no sign on the building outside or inside. A burly guard's answer to my question, "Is Tech-Expert here?" is the only way I learn I'm in the right place. I worry that Bryan will have a more difficult time finding this place than I, so I leave a note for him with the guard.

The exam itself is going well. Occassionally I get what seems to be an easy math question, which worries me because the exam changes itself based on my previous answer. If I got it right, the next problem is harder; if I got it wrong the next one is easier. So getting lots of easy problems probably means lots of mistakes.

I'm also making great time, and that never happened on any of the practice exams. I'm always right against the time limit, but find myself with 7 minutes at the end of both the math and verbal sections.

Then the score. The waiting. The wondering. Did I just blow a chunk of change and 4 days on this exam, not to mention untold hours spent studying and planning this trip? Are dreams of business school - ok, I don't actually have dreams about graduate programs, it's just for effect - dashed forever? In a word: no. The score pops up on my computer screen and I'm elated.

Bryan is waiting outside. I'm glad he got my note and found the place, and it seems neither of us is angry at the other for this morning's SNAFU. [Later he would tell me that he was worried because he thought I had tears in my eyes. If I did, it was only because I really had to pee. I also learned then that he had gone only 4 stops, but then waited at the top of the escalators instead of at the bottom. Who does that?!]


Now time to experience Kiev. I meet Tanya, the neice of my tutor, and go to a WWII museum and some catacombs. The museum is closed by the time we get there, but there are lots old Soviet tanks and planes outside. The statue of the woman here is known as the "Mother of the Hero." She stands over a square with 13 large blocks, each a symbol for the 13 cities of the Soviet Union that were attacked by the Germans during WWII. The catacombs are almost closed, but we manage to get in and walk around. Old dead monks in clear glass coffins. Not all that interesting for me, but there were plenty of locals praying over/to the departed. Oddly, all the monks burried down below were really, really short.

That night Bryan and I celebrate with sushi and then at a rock/jazz club, Art 44. The club is a hit, especially the second band that performs. Bryan and I feel a special connection with them because the name of their group is Pusk, the same name as our business semina. I doubt, however, that theirs is an acronym for Entrepreneurialistic Learning of Strategy and Commerce.

Special thanks to Taya and Bona, two PCVs with whom I served in Uzbekistan now serving in Ukraine, for their excellent recommendations of things to do in Kiev. Also thanks to Tanya for showing me around her city. And thanks to Bryan for

Morocco

I've returned from my vacation to Morocco and while I sit on the bumpy bus ride back to my village, I have the perfect opportunity to recollect my thoughts - as well as the perfect distraction from the too loud American film with Russian dubbing and the too hot bus without AC and windows that the sweating passengers refuse to open.

I arrived around 7pm at night and after attempts to get a train from the airport to a station in Casablanca failed - the train never showed - I decided to spring for the extra cost of a taxi. A Mercedes Benz taxi. It was old, but it was still a Benz. And that's when I noticed I had a strange smile on my lips, and then I realized it was because I was comfortable. The roads were smooth and the shocks worked! [Again, as I sit on this bus from the 1970s on a road where potholes are the norm, I recall my entry into Morocco quite fondly. Even my last vacation to Mongolia was full of roads worse than Moldova's. New rule - I go where there's good roads from now on.]

So, I arrived and met Caitlin, my neighbor from UVA and PCV pal in Morocco. We headed to our hotel, where after the manager was unexplainably rude to Caitlin, I tried to smooth things over by giving him some currency from Moldova and Russia to add to his collection. I think he appreciated it. Oh yeah, and another thing about Morocco: all the beds were comfortable! Roads and beds - they know how to do those things. And tea. And spices. And orange juice - oh God yes, they know how to do OJ.

Then we were off to experience the relatively new "Rick's," based on the famous film "Casablanca." The interior was white stucco with ferns in every spot and even a piano player, though he wasn't there that evening. Upstairs there's a constantly running loop of the classic black and white film and a table for two in a bay window that over looks the ocean. It was a pretty swank gin joint and Caitlin and I enjoyed being wealthy tourists, if only for one meal.

The next morning we headed to the Hassan II Mosque, the third largest in the world. It was completed in 1993 to accommodate up to 25,000 worshippers inside and another 80,000 outside, and it comes complete with its own set of Astrodome-like retractable roofs. Over 1/3 of it rests on land reclaimed from the ocean because of the verse from the Koran, "The Throne of God was on water." Inside and outside, it's GORGEOUS and with titanium doors and teak wood, it's built to last through the corrosion dolled out by the ocean. The columns in the absolution rooms (where everyone washes before prayers) are even made of some sort of special stuff the Italians make out of cement, egg, and some other ingredients to absorb the moisture in the air. You can see that it actually works because the copper chandeliers there have yet to turn green while those outside have changed color.

Then we boarded a bus to head to Oneida, a small coastal city with a big lagoon. We hung out there for a day and a half, trying to soak in some rays and swim against the incredibly strong tide that occurred every time the tide went out.

As Caitlin's site was too far away to visit during my short trip, we boarded a bus to her friend Brian's place in Amizmi, about 45 minutes outside of Marrakech. [Can I just mention again what a pleasure it was to be on a pothole-less road in a new bus?] Brian has a great site and a great 3-story place with access to the roof. We bought groceries and BBQed burgers on the roof. On account of the huge and very loud wedding going on in the street below, we stayed up until about 3am, alternately watching through a window and trying to have melon eating contests.


Then is was a quick trip back to Marrakech for some haggling in the "souks," the huge bazaar. We wound up befriending one of the spice sellers, Hamed, and at his invitation shared some excellent mint tea with him in his shop. We probably spent a little to much time (and money) there and thus had to race back to the roof of our hostel with groceries to listen to the call to prayer from all the cities' mosques while we ate bread, cheese, and veges. Then it was back to the souks for one last haggle and to get some fresh squeezed orange juice, my favorite drink in the whole world. It was a wonderful way to bring my trip to a close.

I'd like to once again thank Caitlin for being an exceptional host and vacation planner - and for her gift of argan oil. I wish her all the best with the short time left in her service. It's always nice to have a good friend just out my door and to the left.

Mongolia

A Lebanese tourist I met on my first day in a hostel in Ulaanbaatar gave the most apt description of Mongolia.  He had just returned from a 20-day tour of the country and pondered, “Is there one square kilometer of this country that isn’t gorgeous?”  If it exists (outside of the capital UB), I didn’t see it.

Some stats: The country has 2 million people, half of whom live in the capital.  Because I’m really smart, I can tell you without a doubt that the other half live outside the capital, scattered across a nation twice the size of Texas.  The ratio of horses to people is 13:1.  There are about 1100 Mongolian tugrik to 1 US dollar, and staying one night in a very clean and well-run hostel with hot running water cost $5 – definitely stay at the UB Guesthouse.  The Mongolian diet consists of basically two things: milk and milk products, preferably with some horse, yak, lamb, goat, or beef.  One would be hard-pressed to survive if you didn’t like dairy products.  Indeed, when I returned to Moldova I met a new PCV here who was originally slated to go to Mongolia but got switched because she is lactose intolerant.

I was amazed at both how developed and undeveloped (and by this I mean pristine, not necessarily lacking or in need of reform) the country was.  The capital, UB, has basically every amenity a Westerner could want.  I ate at a Mexican and Indian restaurant, chilled in a wireless internet café that served real coffee.  Some upscale apartment complexes would be considered just as good as those in the States.  And even the regional capitals have impressive guest houses, cafes, and internet access.  Most of this has no doubt arisen to cater to the growing number of adventure seeking tourists and increasingly the international aid workers who live there full-time.

Yet step out of a city and into a ger, the traditional teepee-like dwellings of steppe nomads, and you step into another world.  Some have electricity because of solar panels or car batteries hooked up to electronics, but most go without.  There’s a wood stove in the center with a metal chimney that extends up through a hole in the roof.  The floor is usually covered with a wood frame and beds and cabinets are positioned against the curving wall.  Herding is the repast of the people and they do it with the skill of those who have been keeping animals for generations.

There are no subdivisions within the walls of a ger; it’s just one big room for an entire family.  So privacy is basically out of the question, plus it is common practice for friends and neighbors to simply stop by and open the door – there is no knocking.  As an American in need of personal space, living this way might drive me batty.  But for a Mongolian, it would be just as strange to be without this ever-present community.  And I suppose they get plenty of privacy in the expansive emptiness beyond the walls of the ger.

Enough of the generalities – let me tell you what I did.  Got off the train and met Lizzie, had another blast at a Russian Embassy (see next entry), spent one night in UB and met an international assortment of travelers who became my “tour group,” took a 11 hour ride out to Lizzie’s ger stopping along the way to walk through the old capital.  From Lizzie’s our group split into three subdivisions. 
Mine went to a nearby village for its annual Nadam Festival, with competitions in archery, wrestling, and horse racing.  The next day I left for a two-day horseback-riding trip, which left me wondering what kind of sadist designed Russian and Mongolian saddles?  Then hopped back on an 11-hour bus back to UB, basically pulled an all-nighter because I was afraid I wouldn’t wake up in time for my plane.

[A quick side-note about travel within Mongolia... To say the roads are bad would be like saying the sun is hot.  I think more than anything else, creating 4 paved roads that extended from UB along the points of the compass to Mongolia's borders would create the biggest boost in GDP and the standard of living.  On my way back to UB, I rode the "post bus," creatively named because it carries the mail.  For an 11-hour trip I paid about $8.  The door is jammed shut by wedging a 30-liter plastic container between the first step and the door.  Along the way our muffler fell off and it was generally agreed that it was beyond repair and better left on the side of the road.  And if a young boy needs to pee while the bus is moving, his mother takes him to the door and he pisses toward the door from the top step.  Eventually, it trickles out.]

This was a great first foray to Mongolia, but one week is far too short to see all that this nation has to offer.  I’d love to go back and see the Gobi Desert in the south and head further west than I did to reach the higher mountains. FYI, one could literally get to Mongolia, buy a horse for about $100, and ride it all over the country. The whole place is just open grazing land. Maybe next time...

Special thanks go to Lizzie, my PCV pal from Uzbekistan now serving in Mongolia, for playing tour guide and host during my stay.  Also thanks to her friend Amy for co-facilitating my stay and losing gracefully in our final game of Gin Rummy. And also thanks to Geoff from Australia for making this a nice picture.  I’m definitely convinced that PCVs – with their language skills, cultural awareness, and American tastebuds – make the best guides for fellow Americans.  Now if only I could convince PCVs in every country to drop their work and show me around…

Russian Visa Saga

And now, I should tell yet another Russian visa story…  I won’t repeat what I’ve already posted about getting my first visa, and will focus here on my attempt to get a transit visa in order to fly to Moscow, spend 24 hours there, and then fly out of a different airport and back to Moldova.

This daunting task had been weighing heavily on me since I left Moldova.  I had read on several internet sites that I shouldn’t even bother trying to get a visa from the Russian Embassy in UB.  This sense of dread was only exacerbated when I met a State Dept. officer at a café before heading to the Russian Embassy.  She told me there were only two Russian Embassies in the world that didn’t give visas directly to Americans, only working through tour companies – and Mongolia had one of them.

Now I arrived in UB on a Monday and was flying out early Sunday morning.  I was planning to take a 10-hour bus ride out to the countryside on Tuesday.  If I was going to need my visa for my departing flight, that would mean I could spend one day (Wed) in the countryside at Lizzie’s ger, then blow all of Thursday on another 10-hour bus ride back to UB in order to pick up my passport and visa on Friday.  Then I’d have to sit around in the capital all day Saturday and leave Sunday.  In short, timing the pick-up of my visa could ruin my vacation.  I had hoped I might just pay through the nose to get my visa processed in one day.

In case that wouldn’t be possible, I asked the owner of the hostel where I was staying if she could pick up my visa for me and I’d get it from her on Saturday evening.  She replied that unlike the Chinese Embassy where she would do this all the time for her guests, the Russian Embassy did not allow it.  Typical.

So I go to the Embassy.  It only processes visas from 2-3pm each day, so I’m there by around 1:50, armed with passport photos, an already filled-in visa application downloaded from the internet, copies of my plane tickets, and US dollars, Russian rubles, and Mongolian tugrik.  There are others waiting outside the locked gates and I begin chatting with them.  One young Russian woman, Anna, happens to work for a tour company and is there to drop off visa applications for some of her clients.  I explained my situation to her and she said she picks up her clients’ passports and visas all the time and she offers to do the same for me with no charge!

Once inside, I’m really trying to charm the pants off the Russian embassy officer, making jokes in Russian in an effort to win her willingness to (a) give me a visa and (b) let Anna pick it up for me.  In the end, she agrees, saying that Anna’s name needs to be on the receipt and she must bring some ID when she picks it up.  Hooray!

There is, of course, the slight uneasiness I feel at a person I’ve only known for 10 minutes getting my passport on a Wednesday, holding on to it until Saturday, and then meeting somewhere in UB to give it back to me.  But I really didn’t have any other options (unless I wanted to spend only one day outside a bus and capital city).  Long story short, everything worked out and my vacation was saved.

As soon as I find out which tour company Anna works for, I’ll post it here.

Trans-Siberian Railway

For 4 days and 5 nights I took the train from Moscow to Ulaanbaatar. I traveled 2nd class, four people to a room with two sets of bunk beds. In my room were two girls from France, Anne and Jihane, and a Mongol student, Gumtuya, who had just completed her first year at Moscow State University and was on her way home for the summer. There were about 10 rooms to a car, and about 15 cars in the train, including one dining car and one baggage car for oversized items. Each car had one toilet and sink at one end and a small hot water boiler (powered by burning cardboard or pretty much anything else) at the other. Next to the “boiler” was the room of the produnistra, basically a stewardess for the car and responsible for cleaning everything at least once a day – ours did a pretty good job of keeping the bathroom sparkling, I’m happy to report.

I suppose because the train was going through Russia I naively figured that the passengers would be mostly Russian and we’d chat away the long hours. In hindsight, I see this would be like taking a plane from Japan to India and expecting everyone on board to be flapping away in Mandarin since we’d fly over China to reach our destination. Our train was practically all Mongolians, and most of them didn’t understand, or at least couldn’t speak, Russian. [Actually, when a Mongolian passed our open room door as he walked down the hallway, he would say something in Mongolian to Gumtuya, who would then say it in Russian to me, then I’d speak in English to Anne and Jihane, then they’d discuss it amongst themselves in French, and then we’d go back the way we came with the answer.]

Most of my days were spent reading, playing slap jack with the Frenchies, sleeping, or strumming my guitar. And of course, looking out the window. One night we had an impromptu concert in the dining car between me and a drunk Mongolia who knew a few songs. FYI, if ever playing for a multi-national audience, go with the Beatles. Everyone knows it.

About every 4 hours the train stops somewhere for 20-30 minutes and all Hell breaks loose. You see, the Mongol passengers are not merely passive travelers; they’re on a mission to sell, sell, sell! Almost every passenger brought not only their own personal suitcase or two, but also bags of jeans, skirts, blouses, shoes, and other items to sell along the way. As there is not enough room in a typical 4-person room for all these items, some complete with torso-mannequins, Mongols ask to stow extra baggage in other’s rooms. During the course of the trip we probably had 5-6 other peoples’ boxes stashed somewhere in our room.

Anyway, when the train stops our Mongol horde jumped out to hock their goods through a window to crowds of anticipating Russian women looking for the latest fashions from Moscow. It reminded me of those game shows where people raced through a supermarket, grabbing the highest dollar total of products before their 60-second time limit expired. So too were both buyers and sellers looking to complete as much business as possible before the train started moving again.


For my part, stations were an opportunity to walk around a bit take a break from looking out the window at scenery. There were also usually small shops that sold water and packets of noodle soup and similar products along the way. Sometimes local Russians would turn up to sell freshly baked potatoes, fruit, or once some very delicious roasted chicken. Though the dining car does a few dishes well enough and is cheap by American standards, its relatively expensive when compared to these other options. Thus, I only at there a couple times and always availed myself to the local goods. Then I and the French girls would devour our packets of noodles, they’d give me some tea, and I’d give them some peanut butter.

I should also mention that passing through the border between Russia and Mongolia takes forever. It was about 3.5 hours on the Russian side, then a 20 minute ride through a kind of no-man’s land, and then another 2 hours on the Mongolian end. And during this whole time period the bathrooms are locked. So as my parents used to tell me before a long car ride, it’s a good idea to at least “try” before reaching the border. And you might want to have an empty bottle on hand, too…

If I had it to do over again, I’d try to skip the train from Moscow to Irkukst and take a cheap flight instead. The scenery between these two cities is pretty monotonous forests – maybe prettier in the fall. It also would have been nice to spend a few days hiking around Itrkukst’s neighbor, Lake Baikal, the deepest lake in the world containing almost one-fifth of the earth’s fresh water. But between Lake Baikal/Irkurkst and UB the landscape is quite gorgeous.

Also, if you're looking to do this kind of trip yourself and don't have access to the train station in Moscow to buy your tickets, I'd recommend visiting ConnectRussia. They were the best help I found in purchasing a ticket online.

Moscow

During this, my first PC vacation, I was in Moscow for about 36 hours before hopping on board the Trans-Siberian Railway to Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. I set out to make the most of my short time in the capital city and I think I did a pretty good job. Like everyone else, I went to Red Square and saw St. Basil’s Cathedral, took a look inside Christ’s Church, and then basically walked a marathon all over the city. On my second day there, I took a 3-hour walking/bus tour with a company called Capital Tours and I highly recommend it to anyone else visiting Moscow. It really explains a lot of the history, gave me a good layout of the city, and helped me to identify areas I’d like to explore further on my own in the future.

Some interesting factoids I learned:
1. To stress the Communist independence (or disbelief) in God, the original Christ Church was destroyed by Stalin, who installed a swimming pool where its foundation once stood. The Church you see today is an exact replica that was completed in 1995. You can’t take pictures inside, so there are none posted here, but it’s beautiful and definitely worth the (free) trip inside. [Incidentally, the Russian subway system is also beautiful and every station is different. Sadly, you’re also not supposed to take pictures there and I didn’t want to risk my camera being confiscated.]
2. The Kremlin is a 60-acre complex surrounded by high red walls. Inside, there are three churches, a couple museums, and the actual building where Putin works everyday. During WWII, when the German Luftwaffe was within range of Moscow, the Russians covered all 60-acres with a giant camouflage tarp and built a wooden replica of the Kremlin in a nearby park. The ruse worked and the “park” was bombed while the real Kremlin survived.
3. Moscow is a city of many architectural styles, which is due inadvertently to Napoleon. When his troops conquered the city, they got pretty drunk off the Russian vodka and started a fire that burned down almost 80% of the city. As a result, much of it was rebuilt in a Renaissance style. Each future leader of the city placed their own stamp on the city when new buildings were erected.

My stay in Moscow was made even better by my first stay with a fellow Couchsurfer. This website, linked to on the right, helps people willing to host someone for a night or two on their couch meet one another. I met Dmitry and his wife, Lena, at their metro stop and spent a fun evening trading my American songs on the guitar with Dmitry’s Russian ones.

Some miscellaneous observations: I think during my first stay in Moscow I was going through a bit of a culture shock. I arrived at the airport, was able to stow my bags for a couple dollars, figure out the mass-transit shuttle system that brings people to the nearest metro station, and then ate a sushi lunch at a place where the wait staff seemed generally interested in my welfare. It was almost as if someone saw a need and then figured out a way to fulfill it – that tourists might want a place to store their luggage while walking around, that they might need easily explainable directions to mass-transit instead of paying $50 for a taxi, and that they might want prompt service at a restaurant. Crazy, eh?

Who are these guys?!

I'm off...

...Off-line, off-work, and off to see Russia and Mongolia.  As I finished up most of my computer classes this week, I thought to myself, "I could really use a vacation."  And here it is and I'm very excited about it.  Will be back in a couple weeks.  Might make some posts or check email over vacation, but probably not.  Don't bother calling my cell phone because it doesn't work outside of Moldova.

Visa II

My trip to the Russian Embassy today was... well, you can read about it and decide for yourself.  Once again, there was the usual crowd of yelling Moldovans outside the gate.  Once again, I saw an elderly woman burst into tears when whatever document she wanted apparently wasn't going to be completed.  And once again I walked away only partially satisfied.  [For the first leg of this journey, click here.]

This time I returned, having made the decision that I would get one single-entry visa for the first part of my upcoming vacation and one transit visa for my second (and shorter) stay in Russia.  I was armed with an official invitation, purchased online and UPS-ed in its original non-copy, non-fax form.  Below is an excerpt from my conversation with the man in charge of granting visas.

ME: I would like a single-entry visa and a transit visa
HIM: [After seeing my invitation], Vell, I cannot geeve you a tranzit viza because yu doo not hav yoor plane tickets.
ME: But I do have them, right here [I pull them out of a folder.]
HIM: ... [He takes the plane tickets and invitation wordlessly and disappears into another room]

I had countered his typical defense with the secret weapon of preparedness.  Fortunately for him, 5 minutes later he was able to regroup and strike down my strategy with an even mightier one: absurdity.

HIM: Vee cannot give you a tranzit viza because vee cannot give you two viza at same time.  You go to Russian Embassy in Mongolia.  They shut one viza and give new viza.
ME: But...
HIM: I already said you.  Go to Russian Embassy in Ulaanbaatar.

So, the saga continues.  I paid $60 and in two weeks I can come back and get my single-entry visa, so at least I'll be able to (in theory) get from Moldova to Moscow to Mongolia.  The tricky part that remains will be getting out of Mongolia, through Moscow, and back to Moldova.  Hopefully procuring a transit visa from the Russian Embassy in Ulaanbaatar won't prove too difficult or waste too much of my vacation, but I wouldn't be surprised if it did.

Moral: There are plenty of places on this earth that I haven't been that don't require visas.  Why don't I go there?

Visa - It's Everywhere You Want to Be (Except Russia)

Have been trying to figure out the whole visa thing for an upcoming vacation to Mongolia via the Trans-Siberian Railway across Russia.  And let me just say it's a royal pain in the arse.

The main problem stems from the fact that I will be entering Russia twice - once from Moldova and once from Mongolia.  Therefore, one might think I would need a "double-entry" visa.  However, I learned from several Internet sites that these double-entry visas are only good for travel between CIS nations (Commonwealth of Independent States, i.e. nations that were formerly part of the USSR), which Mongolia is not.  So, do I need to get two single-entry visas?  Or, given that I won't really be staying anywhere in Russia save a moving train, could I just get a couple of transit visas, which are good for up to 72 hours and usually used if someone needs to switch between airports on flights passing through Russia?

I thought perhaps these questions might be answered at the Russian Embassy in Chisinau, which only processes visas on Tuesday and Thursday mornings.  I was mistaken.  First, let me describe the madhouse that is standing outside the gates.  There are about 50 Moldovans waiting for various officials to come outside and let them in so they can get Russian passports or other documents.  People are yelling and pushing and crying and certainly not listening to the poor Russian official who tells them that they have the wrong document or such and such process only occurs on Mondays after 2pm.  It really makes me never want to work in customer service.  As an American, I'm supposed to push my way to the front and announce my nationality, after which I get special treatment and am let in ahead of the crowd.

So back to the official...  Before he would answer my question about what kind of visa I needed, he kept telling me I needed an invitation.  [In order to get a Russian visa, you must first have an invitation from a Russian individual, hotel, or organization.  There are many online services that provide this document for a fee.]  I explained that I knew I needed an invitation, but have not purchased one yet because I didn't know what kind(s) I needed - double, single, transit, or something else.  He said double.

I don't really agree with this.  I think he just wanted the more expensive fee that a double-entry visa entails.  So, based on the information I've found on several internet sites and replies from various travel experts who I've emailed, I've decided to go with one single-entry visa for the first leg of the trip (because it will be longer that 72 hours allowed by a transit visa) and one transit visa for the second leg.  I've ordered the necessary single-entry invitation, and as soon as it arrives I will head back to the Embassy.

I suppose there is some small chance that I'll get stuck in an airport or Mongolia, but isn't that the fun of travel?