Their Own Personal Eden

---

When the Soviet empire collapsed in the early nineties it was heralded in the west. The thought of centrally mandated collectivism makes a capitalist's blood run cold and many (if not most) Americans view, or were taught to view this shift as a great victory in the name of the human spirit. The communists doubtlesssly had innumerable failings but, as western popular media triumphed through "kill-a-commie" films and the end of the "Cold War" was heralded, many Russians suffered and starved. The loss of a way of life that was a full two generations thick proved stifling and left many without the means to survive. To us, these casualties never had a human face, untill now. Things have doubtlesly stabalized these days but many older Russians still have warm regards for the good old days when their cups were guaranteed to be at least half full. Capitalism has ushered in a massive divide between the classes. As we ride past peasants trying in vain to sell a pale of mushrooms by the roadside in the rain, scores of urbanites whiz past us in their new luxury cars. The ubiquitous Lada is still to be found out here in the provinces but the larger towns and cities are rank with the sights, sounds and smells of new money. It is exciting but a bit eerie to witness the widespread growth of a market-based economy which is out of infancy but no more mature than, say, a teenager. As opposed to the rural areas where we are viewed as rich foreigners, certainly more than wealthy with all this leisure time, we are eyed with suspicion in the cities. Security clerks often follow us around in the supermarkets untill they discover that we are foreigners. Our shoddy looks, bereft of the glitsy styles paraded by the masses of hipsters, definately evoke giggles of disdain. Again, when people discover that we are foreign travelers (as opposed to Russian vagrants) the tone often changes entirely. When we approach strangers on the street to ask directions they seemed relieved to discover that our Russian is deplorable as they then feel assured that we are not beggars. Coming from Tahoe, where extremely wealthy people often run about in old pickups and faded jeans, this is all very strange, and quite humorous. Compared to this place one might say that America is, fashionably speaking, post-wealth, or something like that. Between the starving peasants and the (mostly speculatively) wealthy there is a new, large middle class. Many of these folks seem to represent industries that carried over from communist times to today, albeit with a few structural changes. These are the shopkeeps, truckers, service workers, and various others who fill the infastructural needs of the society. Medical professionals are also included in this group and it was one such personality who took us under her wing in the Ural region a few nights ago. We had pulled into a town on a frantic mission for supplies as the sun set on a nearly hundred mile day. Given that we understood our position to be just south of a major city, the village seemed surprisingly quaint and unimproved with shanty homes and muddy streets. While we filled our water bottles a strange little man in coke bottle glasses came out and began to add copious amounts of fruit to our loads. No sooner did he dissapear than two more men arrived and, discovering the nature of our journey, decided to extend a good dose of Russian hospitality. When we arrived at their neighborhood we were met with a street full of friendly, interested folks. Among them was one Maria Vasilovna who promptly whisked us away to her cottage. Ten minutes later we were bathing in her sauna and whipping each other with Birch twigs while the babushka prepared a fresh meal for us (entirely) out of her garden. We were impressed with the huge gardens kept by all the residents in the neighborhood and we later discovered that this town is a "garden village". These are an old Russian tradition that pre date the Bolsheviks. Many if not most gainfully employed Russians have one of these quaint second homes where they keep a garden and escape the city for a bit of serenity. This is a nice place to get to know people because they are in good spirits being away from the hustle and bustle of urban life. Maria Vasilovna is in many ways the matriarch of her street in the garden town. As we devoured our meals of vegetable goulash, fresh poultry and apple juice she sat by us swatting away the mosquitos and telling us about her community in what little Russian we could comprehend. She also fed our host Andrei and chastised his drinking habits, threatening to "cure" him with a shot in the glutoids from one of the miscelaneous serums she kept in her fridge. Like many of his countrymen, Andrei did seem to have a penchant for booze. Maria Vasilovna's genuine concern for her young friend certainly comes from a deep level of insight on the subject. She is a nurse at a local mental hospital. After our meal we retired to our tent without much ado. The hospitality we have experienced in this culture is matter-of-fact, especially when it comes to the common masses. This is refreshing to us as we are allowed to travel uninhibited by overt curiosity but aided by interested, helpful folks. It is a nice balance, and we have of late become quite used to riding away fom a new aquaintance with a bag of fresh fruit, snacks, or vegetables. The road itself has been less than hospitable at times. The combinmation of bad pavement, heavy industrial traffic, and intense rain made the Urals one of the most difficult sections yet. Often pinned between a loose shoulder and a tanker in a white out of spray, these have been some of the only times on the journey when we have been genuinly gripped. We found the rolling terrain of the Urals a relief from the flats of Siberia, though the mountains themselves are less than Appalachian in magnitude. Halfway through the rather wide range we crossed a definitave point on our tour when we technically left Asia and entered Europe. This division has little demographic meaning but is rather a geologic boundary where two continental plates collided some 350 million years ago. For us it is the midway point (distance wise) in our ride and marks the place where we begin riding towards, rather than away from, home. This may seem like a rather abstract concept but, for us, a turning point has come in the middle of a long journey and, if only in the subtlest of ways, the spirit of the ride has changed. At the "border" of the two great continents we were greated by a souvenier salesman who asked us how to say "I Love You" in our Language. He thanked us for the info, approached a girl setting at a nearby booth and, prostrating himself at her feet, proposed. We then proceeded to the local kebab booth where a few Armenians fed us to the gills with watermellon and, of course, Vodka. We rode into Europe very full and a little drunk. Here in Ufa another road for Moscow splits off. This should reduce the traffic a bit though the real relief from trucks comes after Samara, four days down the line, where we head down the Volga and the trucks head for the capitol. Dealing with the very subjective hazard of highway traffic has steeled our nerves but we are ready for peace and hope to find it on the lazy country roads that follow the mighty river. We are excited to take daily swims, and beat the filth out of our shoddy duds on its banks like generations of peasants before us.

---

Comments

[Pam]

Congrats!
Congrats on making it to Europe and the halfway point! The Vuelta de Espana starts on August 29th. I think you guys are trained up and ready if you can make it to Spain by the start ; ) Plus, the bikes will feel so light once you drop the panniers and all your stuff. Had an enjoyable ride in the chilly rain over to NStar last night to watch the bike races since we had to cancel music on the Beach in KB last night. I know you guys have lots of experience riding in the rain (and snow!), but since coming out from Ohio it just doesn't happen very often. Laughed my butt off most of the way over there. Woke up to "fall" today with the thermometer reading 39 degrees and lots of rain yesterday afternoon and evening. But, I think summer will be returning by the weekend. Enjoy Europe! Hope you have many enjoyable and safe travels until we hear from you again! Pam

[B. Wright]

Greetings from Speckled Ave
And you guys think you have it rough...saw Buss yesterday and he couldn't decide if he should paddle the kayak or row his new skiff across the morning glass in Huricane Bay...I'm struggling with the seemingly insurmountable task of deciding whether to take one or two extra powerbars for my morning ride up to Mt. Baldy...and then the tortuous evening ritual of choosing betwixt a T's burrito or a double artery clogger at the CharPit (yes, of course I'll have cheese AND bacon with that)...I tell you, the Siberian outback seems like a walk in the park compared to summer in Kings Beach. Still finding it strangely comforting knowing that you two met here in the same kitchen where I submit this comment....