Irked in Irkutsk

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Actually I'm out of Russia, and in Ulaanbaator, Mongolia. Moron that later.

I'd gotten back to Irkutsk about 11.30pm after a long day on the train around Lake Baikal. The hotel looked pretty flash, a number of business suits coming and going, some classic kgb suits with dark glasses (at 10pm) as hotel security. The check-in counter was overrun by a Chinese tour group. This is becoming a recurring theme but it seems like the Chinese are keeping the world tourism business afloat. Anyway, I postponed checking in and went to the bar where a couple of average, huge, fat, middle aged business types were getting ready to hit some local titty bar. They were friendly in a pushy sort of way, sporting the shaved skull haircut-de-jour, they asked where I was from and when I told them they were all over me with kangaroo impersonations and then turned a bit heavy with accusations of the sanctions. What sanctions says I, all innocent, they couldn't give me any specifics but maybe the sanctions are working. They soon got over it and bought me a beer, and an offer to join them for the night out, I declined.

Unsmiling, surly, aggressive...... friendly in a retarded way and only as long as there's a personal benefit, then it's cut off like a switch. The bear is the perfect national icon, huge, aggressive, powerful and totally lacking in class. From a history dotted with occasional beauty the predominant characteristics are clumsy and crude, things get done, most things work but with a roughness and dimension where functionality always overrides style. The Moscow Metro was a classic example, some of the stations are absolute gallery quality in parts but couched in such ugly surrounds, the trains themselves run perfectly but they are really ugly, they run on time but the doors slam shut with amputational force. I watched a young guy try and stop the door closing, as you do, with his arm, by the time he struggled through his hand, arm, leg and arse were covered in greasy bruises from the highly lubricated and military strength doors. Not surprising that most people stay well away from the doors once the tinny little warning beeper goes off. On one of my early forays into the Metro I accidentally walked the wrong way through one of those entry slots like at all stations, ker-fucking-whump, a steel barrier sprang out of nowhere, luckily just a glancing blow to my knee but potentially a serious, season ending injury. It's everywhere,

It's interesting how all the Russians I've met have been such big fans of Putin. I'm not sure it's more a testament to the efficiency of his media control than his personal charisma, maybe a bit of both. They all love the macho, gym junkie, horse riding hero, and it looks like they get fed a lot of it on TV. And who's going to say anything negative about him?

It's constantly on my mind just how big this country is, 5 hours time zones and +5,000kms from Moscow to Irkutsk, and that's only half way to Vladivostok. And it's pretty empty, endless tracts of nothingness and it looks like good farmland and there's no shortage of water.

There's another tall turkey walking into the lobby, the new breed of rich hipster, retro faux Cossack man tail with shaved sides, Chinese imitation aviator sunnies, wheeling round to check the paparazzi, or the bodyguards are watching, no on both counts, sorry mate.

The bar girls look about 15 and are constantly inviting me to buy them a bottle of what they're calling champagne. It's pretty lamo but you can see they are tough, and I guess they've gotta be by the way they're treated by the business bozos. There's a similar misogynistic theme to many countries and the girls have to grow up very tough. It's also everywhere, young women, and they only have a few good years, desperately pushing whatever they've got to try and get away. Unfortunately these two don't have enough English or intelligence or courage or whatever, to engage in any sort of conversation with depth. By this time it's past midnight and the place is almost totally deserted, time to check in and clean up.

This feeling of impending doom, like before a storm sense of anticipation......like after you've had a bout of diarrhoea, you're a bit cautious about farting for a few days

Like a furball caught in a cat's arse, out of sight but always threatening.

I went walking in Irkutsk, thought I'd stroll down to the river then along the bank, I got to the river, started strolling, and there's a massive, filthy power station, right in the way, blocking everything, obscuring the sun, covered in black dust, awful. I took a pic from the garden opposite and it's come up looking quite ok. It wasn't.

Getting used to different hotels' habits. Always some similarities but always some differences, a constant test of memory and dexterity. They all have these whingy, feel-good little stickers or cards "save the environment, leave this card on the bed if you don't need your bed linen/towels replaced, we can save so much water.....and therefore the planet(?)" (and fucking money you bozos) why not offer a discount on the exorbitant room rate? I'd be quite happy to use sheets and towels for a few days, I've never wanted my room ransacked, sorry, cleaned, every day, and the huge amount of $ they could save, hey, pass it on!

And so much to see from the train on the way to Ulaanbaator lovely countryside, big, open, clean, green, mountains in the background, big rivers, sweet!

Actually I'm now in Beijing, a lovely little old hotel in the middle of the old centre, but the internet is making Hanoi look good. I'll try and send this but who knows!

























Aha

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Photos

Ditto
Must be Irkutsk to Ulaanbaator.

Busted statue in the park
I could write a lot more about this sad little park