(Please back date to 2/25/13)
My excursion didn’t exactly go according to plan. To put it bluntly, I didn’t find the monument. It would have been cool to do as Tsar Alexander II did in in the early 19th century and drink a glass of wine on the Asian side of the border and then drink one on the European side. But at least I found Pervoraulsk!
Lilia and I had a breakfast of bread and cheese with sausage and then Lilia, after deciding that trying to find the monument on my own would be too difficult for me to do without the benefit of Russian, decided to help me and see me off to the bus station. So we hopped back in her Suzuki and drove to the central bus station located beside the train station. We found the right bus, after lots of asking around by Lilia, I bought my ticket, and we waited. Meanwhile, Lilia had talked to the bus driver about how I could go about finding the monument from the bus station in Pervoraulsk. After observing a conversation I couldn’t understand and watching Lilia get more and more frustrated, I sensed something was wrong. Lilia, afterwards and shaking her head in frustration, said the bus driver had told her that the monument was a pretty good distance from the bus station and it would be difficult to find on my own. But, for a bribe, the bus driver would consider making a special stop at the monument. And he wouldn’t plainly describe the way to get their on my own should I decide not to pay the bribe. Lilia just looked at me and said, “Sorry...this is Russia!” shrugging her shoulders, defeated. But she did write down on a piece of paper something to the effect of, “Hello, I’d like to go to the Europe-Asia border monument, can you tell me how to get there?” and she told me to give this to a young person, preferably female, because then I would have the best chance of being helped. I thanked Lilia for the help and hopped the bus just before it pulled away.
Getting to the right bus station was easy enough, it was the last one. But the bus driver was right, there was not a clue anywhere as to where I might be able to head to the monument. The town, as far as it looked, was a small industrial one, without signs (even in cyrillic) that might indicate the direction of the monument. So, I decided to walk around into town and look for clues. I walked in the most promising direction and continuing on, found no clues, but did find some really nice roads that led out of the industrial town and down into a quiet neighborhood in the forest. It was snowing in heaps. Big, heavy, snow (but not wet, it was really cold). My view from atop a hill that I had climbed overlooked the village and was of endless pinewood trees surrounding on all sides a village green. In the middle of the green (well, not so much green as white, but you get the idea) was a walking bridge over a small frozen creek. I walked along the bridge to a small road that led further into the forest. There were several walking paths that had clearly been forged by cross country skiers (I saw a lot of cross country skiers here, cross country skiing being the most practical means of transportation for villagers) and they all led into the forest. So I wandered down some of these paths and let myself be overcome by the mystical, peaceful properties of the snowfall in the woods. Just white and green and brown and silence except for the soft sounds of the snowfall and slight creaking of the trees in the breeze. It was great.
I wandered back out of the forest and continued down that lonely road. I saw a sign, a totem pole really, with the name of a village and a carving of a bear. The road led up a hill and ended at a very small village, just a cluster of homes all seeping smoke from their chimney tops, and a lumber yard which is probably where all the villagers worked. Across from the lumber yard was a huge open field surrounded by the forest on all sides. I walked around the field awhile, taking photos (just enough photos before my hands started to freeze) and then slowly walked back towards Pervaroulsk.
I didn’t find the dumb monument, but my excursion turned out favorably enough. The village was obviously a border village anyway so I did spend the day straddling the two continents in any event. And had I found the monument, I might have missed the village. So I think it worked out.
Lilia was relieved when I returned that evening that I hadn’t paid any bribes and that I hadn’t gotten lost (she had told me before I hopped the bus that, worse case scenario, I could call them from Pervoraulsk and they would drive up to find me. It’s nice to have someone looking out for you...). Sasha and Lilia had made some borscht and spaghetti so I ate some of the leftovers for supper while we talked awhile about the day. Lilia had a friend over from the university and they studied together for a test they have in a few days while we talked. I was wiped and before long passed out (it was late too and I had a train in the morning).
I just hopped off that train actually, just a six hour ride to the next city in my adventure, Perm, famous for its gulag museum, after saying goodbye and thanks to my hosts in Ekaterinburg. I promised Lilia I would send her a postcard from the US when I got home (she collects post cards from around the world). And after seeing me off at the station, they returned home. I will miss them.
I just checked into the cheapest, cleanest hostel I’ve stayed at yet in Russia (almost China cheap). I’m going to rest up a bit and then walk around the city tonight. But tomorrow, and the sole reason for coming to Perm, I plan to to see the historic Perm-36, the gulag from Soviet days, preserved as a museum. It’s is supposed to be a powerful experience.
My excursion didn’t exactly go according to plan. To put it bluntly, I didn’t find the monument. It would have been cool to do as Tsar Alexander II did in in the early 19th century and drink a glass of wine on the Asian side of the border and then drink one on the European side. But at least I found Pervoraulsk!
Lilia and I had a breakfast of bread and cheese with sausage and then Lilia, after deciding that trying to find the monument on my own would be too difficult for me to do without the benefit of Russian, decided to help me and see me off to the bus station. So we hopped back in her Suzuki and drove to the central bus station located beside the train station. We found the right bus, after lots of asking around by Lilia, I bought my ticket, and we waited. Meanwhile, Lilia had talked to the bus driver about how I could go about finding the monument from the bus station in Pervoraulsk. After observing a conversation I couldn’t understand and watching Lilia get more and more frustrated, I sensed something was wrong. Lilia, afterwards and shaking her head in frustration, said the bus driver had told her that the monument was a pretty good distance from the bus station and it would be difficult to find on my own. But, for a bribe, the bus driver would consider making a special stop at the monument. And he wouldn’t plainly describe the way to get their on my own should I decide not to pay the bribe. Lilia just looked at me and said, “Sorry...this is Russia!” shrugging her shoulders, defeated. But she did write down on a piece of paper something to the effect of, “Hello, I’d like to go to the Europe-Asia border monument, can you tell me how to get there?” and she told me to give this to a young person, preferably female, because then I would have the best chance of being helped. I thanked Lilia for the help and hopped the bus just before it pulled away.
Getting to the right bus station was easy enough, it was the last one. But the bus driver was right, there was not a clue anywhere as to where I might be able to head to the monument. The town, as far as it looked, was a small industrial one, without signs (even in cyrillic) that might indicate the direction of the monument. So, I decided to walk around into town and look for clues. I walked in the most promising direction and continuing on, found no clues, but did find some really nice roads that led out of the industrial town and down into a quiet neighborhood in the forest. It was snowing in heaps. Big, heavy, snow (but not wet, it was really cold). My view from atop a hill that I had climbed overlooked the village and was of endless pinewood trees surrounding on all sides a village green. In the middle of the green (well, not so much green as white, but you get the idea) was a walking bridge over a small frozen creek. I walked along the bridge to a small road that led further into the forest. There were several walking paths that had clearly been forged by cross country skiers (I saw a lot of cross country skiers here, cross country skiing being the most practical means of transportation for villagers) and they all led into the forest. So I wandered down some of these paths and let myself be overcome by the mystical, peaceful properties of the snowfall in the woods. Just white and green and brown and silence except for the soft sounds of the snowfall and slight creaking of the trees in the breeze. It was great.
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| Alone in the forest outside Pervoraulsk |
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| Welcome to Lyeshoz |
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| The village road I followed, the open field to the left |
I didn’t find the dumb monument, but my excursion turned out favorably enough. The village was obviously a border village anyway so I did spend the day straddling the two continents in any event. And had I found the monument, I might have missed the village. So I think it worked out.
Lilia was relieved when I returned that evening that I hadn’t paid any bribes and that I hadn’t gotten lost (she had told me before I hopped the bus that, worse case scenario, I could call them from Pervoraulsk and they would drive up to find me. It’s nice to have someone looking out for you...). Sasha and Lilia had made some borscht and spaghetti so I ate some of the leftovers for supper while we talked awhile about the day. Lilia had a friend over from the university and they studied together for a test they have in a few days while we talked. I was wiped and before long passed out (it was late too and I had a train in the morning).
I just hopped off that train actually, just a six hour ride to the next city in my adventure, Perm, famous for its gulag museum, after saying goodbye and thanks to my hosts in Ekaterinburg. I promised Lilia I would send her a postcard from the US when I got home (she collects post cards from around the world). And after seeing me off at the station, they returned home. I will miss them.
I just checked into the cheapest, cleanest hostel I’ve stayed at yet in Russia (almost China cheap). I’m going to rest up a bit and then walk around the city tonight. But tomorrow, and the sole reason for coming to Perm, I plan to to see the historic Perm-36, the gulag from Soviet days, preserved as a museum. It’s is supposed to be a powerful experience.
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