A Day in Yekaterinburg

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Hi Everyone,

You might be thinking that I must be the pokiest blogger ever. Well, I wrote these articles when I was actually traveling on the Trans-Siberian Railway last month. Now I am back in Beijing and trying to send them but I am getting a lot of interference form the Chinese "50cent-cyber-police" who don't like bloggers. I have been trying to send this every night for the past week and have been blocked. Maybe they have Saturday nights off because it looks like this might fly - Yippee! If you can stick with me you might find what I observed in the Wild West of China to be interesting - if I can send it! OK, back to Yekaterinaburg. I had a strange adventure the next day, which I'll try to send right away. PS I'd love to know if you're out there.

I arrived at Yekaterinburg on Saturday at 10:30pm but I wasn’t worried about it being late because I had the email directions to the hostel I had booked weeks before. I usually try to arrive in a new place between 8am and 8pm, but I couldn’t this time.
Just to give you an idea of the frustrations faced on a trip like this: The directions to the Yekaterina hostel began “Take the #1,5, or 15 tramway to Sorshch stop.” In what direction? Where is the tram stop? When I left the huge train station there was a huge parking lot out front, then a very busy road that could only be crossed via an underpass, with tons of stairs down and back up again. I wasn’t going there unless it was necessary. A uniformed young woman was handing out parking tickets so I asked her in my most refined paruski, “Excuse me, young lady, where is the tram stop?” She stared at me blankly and walked off.
After a while I noticed a #1 tram on the busy road so I watched it turn into the road beside me – the terminus. The conductor said they were going to Sorshch so I was on a roll. After a 20 minutes ride we reached the stop and it was dark. Next instruction, “Go in the direction of Tschaikovsky House.” Which way? “Getting off the tram, go right two blocks” would have been useful. I had to ask people, but that was OK. Next instruction “You will see a big sign “Ural Development Bank””. I asked a woman with her son in tow and she pointed out a small sign affixed to a building about 20 feet from the street. I walked up to the sign, which could hardly be seen in the dark, and saw that it was entirely in Russian. Most backpackers would not have been able to translate it. The woman offered to help me and we walked around the adjacent apartment block looking for the “Europe-Asia Hostel” sign.
She got very nervous when we went to the dark rear of the building, especially when the group of winos started arguing. She clutched her son’s hand tightly and rang the hostel owner. Luckily I had made sure to get his phone number. He directed her to the door of the block. I never did see the sign. I buzzed in the code he had given me and his voice came on an intercom, “Come up to the 7th Floor.” Ohmigod. I assured the woman that I would be OK and she should go home, then I buzzed him again and said, “I can’t carry all my gear up 7 floors, you’ll have to come and help me.”
As I staggered up the first flight I heard a rumble down a corridor and a man emerged from an elevator –the hostel owner. Imagine if I had been so docile as to just struggle up those stairs, not knowing about the elevator. You might say, “Of course there would be an elevator!” but you never know in these foreign countries and it is safe to assume that if you aren’t told about it, there isn’t one. This apartment block was definitely from the Communist era.
I must interject here that I had read great reviews of this hostel on “Hostelbookers.com” from previous visitors, none of whom mentioned the 7th Floor. The elevator was tiny and rubbish-strewn but it did make it to the 7th Floor so I wasn’t complaining. The (youngish – 35?) man seemed to have English so I tried to explain the difficulty we had had following his directions. He was not interested in a discussion. Once inside the apartment he said, “First, turn off your shoes and pay me the money.”
I will spare you details of my stay in that one-bedroom hostel – where I was the only guest. I’ll just say it was the weirdest place I ever stayed and made Galina’s in Irkutsk seem like the Hilton. He had a guest book for comments “to improve your stay”, but he obviously never acted on suggestions, for example, improving his directions. BUT, as you can see, I survived. The shower was weird but hot and he also loaned me his adapter to recharge my netbook.
Maybe the night’s sleep improved him. The next morning he let me cook my gluten-free porridge and make my tea and toast. He also told me where I might buy an adapter. As I was leaving I saw a fancy certificate on his door, “Hostelbookers’ Hostel owner of the Year Award.” I wondered how much he had paid for that honour. I decided that he might have had a mother complex and only liked having young backpackers.
I was very happy to escape that hostel on Sunday morning and before long found an ATM machine (Bank-o-Mat) and the large store where I might find the adapter. They didn’t have it but directed me to one about 20 minutes away, along the same busy street, on what sounded like Schwartz St. It was a nice day, so I set off for the walk.
People were quite helpful along the way and, getting close to my destination I asked two women about my age for directions. They said they’d show me, then one went off on her bus but the other told me to go with her. On the way we “chatted” about her son and her daughter who was married to a Spaniard and lives in Almeria. No, she hasn’t been out there yet. Her name is Alina and she is a retired physics teacher. She had maybe 10 words of English. She brought me to the electrical shop and they did have an adapter. Great! But I it was too wide for some sockets so I would need an additional piece. She brought me to a few shops in the shopping centre, but no luck. I told her to forget about it.
She insisted on taking me to the bus I needed to get into the bus station in the city centre. As we were walking she stopped to ask a man for advice. He was in his 40’s and dark, maybe Turkish in appearance. Then a retired couple came along that Alina knew so they joined in the discussion. The man was a real Boris Yeltsin/Breshnev typical Russian bear. It seems he disagreed with the advice the other man was giving. He proceeded to bellow at the man in a rage, his huge jowls shaking. I couldn’t get over it. The darker man didn’t answer and a few minutes later we met him near the bus stop he had been directing us to.
Alina ushered me onto the mini-bus and told the driver where I was headed. That ride was great fun, with all the housewives getting on and off with their groceries, cracking jokes with the driver and each other. Then a woman in her 40’s got on, carrying a (used) shovel and sat beside me. She struck up a sort of conversation with her 10 words of English and my paruski attempts. She said she was a gardener and was on her way to work, indicating her greenish uniform and wellington boots. She got off and told me it was my stop too, so I should follow her. Well, she definitely must have gone out of her way because I followed her across streets and down around corners for about 10 minutes. Then she pointed out the bus station and waved “goodbye.” I whipped out my camera and sneaked a photo of her as she went on her way, carrying her shovel. You'll see the photo here.
What was I doing at the bus station? When I had booked the train ticket to Yekaterinburg I had a notion that it must be surrounded by the Ural Mountains. I didn’t fancy staying in the big, flat city for two days so I look online to see what excursions were on offer. One was to a village 3 – 4 hours outside the city and the bus trip would bring the passengers back to the city in the evening. The tour cost €125. I decided that I would take a local bus out to the village, stay overnight and come back to the city the next day, well in time for my evening train. The far was only €5 so I was quite proud of this good plan.
Please keep in mind – that was the plan.
Dosevydenya,
Sheila

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Photos

Yekaterinsburg Train Station
they even have 24/7 luggage storage and a hostel upstairs!

painting on Station ceiling
check out the waiting room - about 10 of these fabulous historic scenes

Railway Museum
beside the Station, don't miss it - fun sculptures in the forecourt

rushing for the train
another sculpture at the Musewum

little Orthodox Church
near the train station

I've got my shovel and boots - I'm off to work!
this is the friendly City gardener I met on the bus

Church of the Blood
Byzantine Church built on site of Romanov assassinations, a short walk from the train station

Boris Yeltsin, home town boy
a local told me "He was the first President of free Russia!" Oh.

Lenin is everywhere
he is highly thought of because he led the revolution to get rid of the ruling class; Marx is in the bad books.

city centre architecture
there is such a contrast between the old and the new

Church of the Blood from a distance
the Romanovs have been elevated to saints, complete with haloes.