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Published: September 7th 2013
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St. Petersburg: 25856 When I reached Irkutsk I’d travelled 9000 km, using approximately 650 litres of fuel for the cost of 18000 rubles (about 350 pounds). After 6 weeks of travelling just about everything in my bag was dirty, damaged or simply worn out. I spent a couple of days enjoying the friendly atmosphere of Irkutsk, with its ornately carved wooden buildings, before leaving on a plane back to St. Petersburg. The flight back to St. Petersburg was, of course, a disarmingly easy journey. It took just 7 hours to return to where I’d started from. Although, that said, Irkutsk is further from St. Petersburg than India, and on the same longitude as Indonesia.
Appropriately perhaps, one of the books I read on my trip was Edward Said’s
Orientalism, which explores the ways in which Western scholars and travellers have taken a position of superiority in their descriptions of the East over the past few centuries. One of the central themes is a criticism of the essentialism in talking carelessly about abstract generalisations like ‘the Arab mind’ or ‘the Islamic mentality’ (his focus is the Middle East). Such talk wrongly leads us to think that a wide and diverse group of people are
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A view to remember essentially similar to each other and different from outsiders. The same point might easily be applied to Russia: the often mentioned concept of ‘Russianness’ or (groan) ‘the Russian soul’ not only papers over the diversity of people to be found in Russia, but gives an impression that Russians are fundamentally different from other nations. These are two myths I would like to help overturn.
First of all, Russia is a much less homogeneous society than 70 years of communism would lead you to expect. There’s something of a generation gap between the soviet and post-soviet educated generations, plus there’s a high degree of income inequality. There are radically different outlooks to be found and it’s fair to say that in many ways Russia is a divided society. On just about all issues, from the future of Russia to feminism and relations with Europe to using swear words, there are diverse attitudes. I find it fascinating to watch how Russians interact with each other and to witness debates resulting from these social divisions. I’m definitely guilty of provoking discussion by asking awkward questions or giving surprising examples. For example, I enjoyed shocking some conservative attitudes in St. Petersburg by saying
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Outside toilets, notice the haystacks in the background that I wasn’t married because no woman had proposed to me yet.
Another trend to be found among some people in Russia is snobbishness, especially about education (it made me realise that, in Britain, almost nobody asks what you studied at university or what degree you have). It’s common for Russians to judge each other quite severely on the basis of profession or the grammar of their spoken language. I find it satisfying that I’m somehow outside this social system. Although people here place me as a foreigner, I can avoid being placed socially. As a result, I can probably communicate with a wider range of people than my Russian acquaintances can. On my trip I really enjoyed the flexibility of being able to talk about literature and politics with university professors, drink vodka with fishermen, discuss the future of Russia with business people, play card games with children, compare life here and abroad with students and be appreciative of the home-cooking I was treated to in the village. I felt a bit like a social spy.
The second myth, about Russia being so different from other countries, is something which I’ve tried to counter-argue for a long
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Wooden building in Irkutsk time. It’s the result of many things, not least a national church which cites Russians as ‘the chosen people’, the fact that most Russians haven’t been abroad and generations of awful nationalistic propaganda in the Soviet Union. Part of the enjoyment for me of living in Russia is the experience of breaking through this illusion. Perhaps the simple fact that I’m able to live, work, socialise and travel in Russia is enough to show that this country isn’t really such a wildly exotic or difficult place to be.
One the main impressions of my trip has been the ease with which I’ve done everything. For many of my acquaintances (both Russian and foreign!), the idea of travelling in Russia is impossibly difficult, beset by corrupt police, impassable roads, insurmountable bureaucracy, aggressive locals, dangerous animals and high costs. There’s even a certain amount of national pride some Russians feel in thinking that their country is impossible for foreigners to travel in. Perhaps even recently some of these obstacles existed; a lot of changes have taken place in the 10 years since I first came to Russia. The lawless nineties - when car-jacking was common, police dangerous and foreigners a target
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Wedding in Irkutsk of criminals – have now passed. But, disappointingly perhaps, as this blog could have been far more dramatic, I’ve encountered few of these things and have had a relaxing and enjoyable time seeing some of the nature and history Russia has to offer.
Another strong impression of my trip has been the generosity and hospitality of the many people I’ve encountered. There’s a stereotype about this, that of the wild but hospitable Russians, which I don’t want to buy into. As a traveller, especially one writing a blog, it’s easy to focus on the details and incidents that fulfil expectations or correspond to pre-existing stereotypes. Not only does this blinker our vision, but it also risks sacrificing the simple humanity of making connections with the people we meet. I’ve been glad that the hospitality I’ve received hasn’t been formal; in numerous circles and families I’ve been accepted warmly and unceremoniously.
That was always really the aim of my trip: to travel lightly and unpretentiously and to see a lot. I had a good illustration of another style of travel at a roadside cafe somewhere near Ust-Kut; I’d pulled up in my beige-coloured Lada alongside a couple of 4x4s
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'We're going to Baikal!' with impressive off-road tyres, jerry cans and other kit dramatically on the roof and snorkels for their engines. A sticker on the side of one of them read ‘Мы едем на Байкал!’ – ‘We’re going to Baikal!’. So am I, I thought.
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