Little Istanbul

I don't think that's how Kazan is nicknamed, but it probably should be. Certainly nothing is comparable for real to Constantinople, but Kazan has some touch of it: an impressive river (the Volga, again) and amazing views, a wonderful and warm weather (apparently not just in summer), a multicultural environment (a mosque and an Orthodox church live within the walls of its Kremlin), a Turkic language (although written in cyrillic, like those from the former Soviet Central Asian republics), a population which is mostly liberally Muslim (pork is shunned, but the occasional drink is not), and a vibrant nightlife (Baumana Ulitsa is Kazan's own Istiklal Caddesi). We spent only three days in Kazan, but we saw why people would want to spend more time there and enjoy the laid-back atmosphere.

Of course, not everything is rosy here either. While most of the “visible” city has been renovated in 2005 for the celebrations of the 1000 years of Kazan (a local told us that the number was actually taken out of thin air by officials, just to have some celebrations to do and impress the world with Kazan's beauties), several less-visible parts of the city are still a bit run-down and others are being restructured right now. But I suppose it is so in every major city.

The major interesting contradiction, for us, was the existence of a “gated community” right under the Kremlin: a series of pretty little new single-family houses with gardens, separated from the rest of the world by a 3-metre wall, with an actual helipad adjoining the entrance. We imagined that those were probably the residences of the notable and powerful, who somehow managed to have their little Suburbia built right in the centre, in front of a beautiful river panorama.

Of Names and Secrets

The unwary traveller will be confused by Nizhny Novgorod. The city was named “Gorky” in Soviet times in honour of Maksim Gorky, and – for reasons hard to fathom – it is still keeping that name in current Russian train timetables (the same happens to Ekaterinburg, which was called "Sverdlovsk" before 1991). Nizhny is probably not widely known abroad, even though it is the fourth largest city in Russia: this is partly due to the fact that it had been closed to foreign visitors (for “security reasons”) during Socialist times. Gorky – sorry, Nizhny – is a sprawling city of more than one million people, where you have to travel often one to two hours to come to the city centre from the suburbs (not like in any other Russian city it's very much different: here the distances are humongous, and several hours of daily commute are the norm).

The city centre is quite nice: stunning views of the river junction from the Kremlin and the surrounding areas, pretty little churches and most of all beautiful wooden houses still surviving here and there, despite the fact that most are in disrepair and some are abandoned due to fires. The gossip goes that several houses are burned on purpose, to sell the valuable ground sitting under them and make horrible new buildings; possibly the real estate bust has partially stopped this phenomenon.

Nizhny gave us the same impression of several other places in Russia – and probably elsewhere as well. A great amount of money was spent in areas directly related to commerce: sparkling malls, a very clean shopping street in the city centre, ads all over for global brands. On the other hand, very little of the money generated by the inevitable consequent sales seems to trickle in the places where public benefit would be served: for example, the main bridge connecting the two sides of the Oka was partially closed for repairs, but there had been nobody in sight to actually do the repairs for some time. Meanwhile, all the city had to pass through the other bridges, slowing down traffic and partially paralyzing the city.

Apart from that, our hosts gave us a wonderful tour of the city, and particularly broke our previous bad luck by introducing us to a drink made with vodka mixed with horseradish – which you feel in your throat and in your nose!

The Moscow

Moscow is still the beautiful, crazy metropolis that it was. It's strange: I don't usually like huge cities (for example, I am not such a big fan of London) but Moscow has something that calls me there. I'm not sure I'd have a good time living in there, but it would certainly be worth a try. The distances are humongous, but the metro system works perfectly: is there anywhere else where trains can pass consistently at intervals of 1 minute?

 

A big issue, though, is that Muscovites seem sometimes to be trapped in the city. It takes at least two hours to get out of the city (with the car, a bus, or an “elektrichka” - a suburban train), and everything is crowded like hell.

To add to that, there is still the feeling of old-style power plays going on: when we were in Moscow, the highway to Sheremetyevo airport (Leningradskoe Shosse, which by the way is also the highway connecting Moscow to St. Petersburg) was closed. Yes, you got that right: closed. In the middle of the summer holiday period. Thousands of people missed their flights.

Supposedly a bridge had to be restored, a bridge that hadn't been repaired in 50 years. But in fact nobody was actively working on it. The word was that the city authorities (responsible for the maintenance of the road) were purposely boycotting Sheremetyevo to favour another airport (Vnukovo), which they own. Somebody might want to go there and explain how boycotting the major airport of the city cannot have a positive effect on the economy of a city, but I suppose that might be words in the wind.

Anyway, I won't drone on about Moscow, because it's not the point here. We'd seen it, we know we'll come back, so we just wanted to leave as soon as possible. I believe Moscow deserves some time for itself, as there are many things off the main tourist track to discover. But if you're embarking for a Transib, leave it soon. It's expensive, and it sucks you in.

Reality check: Train booking.

Our idea of how the trip would develop, based on the material we read and the people we spoke to, was the following (quite ingenious in our mind).

1. We land in Moscow.
2. We buy our first leg.
3. As soon as we arrive in the next city, we buy the next leg.
4. And so on.

Supposedly, Russians buy their tickets at the last minute, so even buying it the previous day or two days before is good enough.

Well, there's no two ways of saying it: this is a lie. I'm not sure if this is the next generation of Russians or whatever, but they plan ahead, at least in July. It is extremely hard to find train tickets for the train you want, if you're only booking a few days earlier. In fact, after discovering this, we started to plan our whole journey, and we even had troubles finding some tickets for two weeks later.

So plan ahead, people. Russian Railways (RZD) have now an online ticketing system, where you can buy any ticket for Russian trains with a credit card. You can even do this from the sanctity of your own home in Reno, Nevada or Wollongong, New South Wales. As long as you pay, your ticket is in the system, and you can collect it in special booths at major Russian train stations (not necessarily the station where your trip starts). You just have to learn a little bit of Russian, create an account, find the train, choose the seats and pay. Remember that you cannot book more than 45 days in advance.

The only thing is that RZD has no advanced engine (like the one Deutsche Bahn has, for example) offering connections. You can find one at Marshruty, but you have to specify the place where you want to connect. So if you want to try different combinations (to see if there's a cheaper ticket, or if you can break your journey) the work is completely left to you.

The other myth to be busted is that there are always seats available in Platskart (the cheaper carriages). Someone even told us that the Platskartny carriage is the last to be filled up. It might be because of the crisis, but this couldn't be more wrong. Of all our journey, we only managed to get Platskart tickets for two relatively small legs; everything else was full. It is to be said that Platskart is much cheaper than Kupe (less than half the price), so it's quite understandable.

Again, lesson learned: if you want cheaper tickets, plan ahead. This will give you less flexibility, but only nominally. After all, you don't want to be flexibly stuck in some place because you don't find any ticket out of it.

Lastly, every guide says how cool it is to break your Trans-Mongolian journey in Ulan Bator; but nobody tells you that it is nearly impossible to buy tickets from Ulan Bator to Beijing in Russia (apart from Moscow). No Russian train station will sell you tickets that don't start or end in Russia, and most travel agencies don't bother.

We managed to find a travel agency (Baikal Complex) in Irkutsk who would do it. The agency was in the outskirts of the city; after a wonderful 20 minutes of bus ride across town, we found ourselves in the middle of a series of panel buildings, who constitute a neighbourhood on their own. There is only one street, and no street numbers. The numbers are on the buildings. In building 62, apartment 35 (no sign, of course) we found the agency. They offered us tea and proceeded to contact their partners in Ulan Bator, who managed to get us the two last tickets (phew!) of the UB-Beijing train on the day we needed.

So, have I mentioned it already? plan ahead.

Reality check: why Murphy is always right.

(I wrote this in the 38 hours of train from Kazan to Novosibirsk).

So, to keep your mind busy while waiting for the posts about the "real" trip, here's the little story about How I Arrived in Russia Without My Bag.

My flight plan was to go from Rome to Moscow with a one-night stopover in Riga (more on that later, whenever I have the time), with AirBaltic: one of those “higher-quality” low-cost airlines, which prides itself on the quality of its services (it even won some sort of award).

When I arrive in Sheremetyevo though, I discover with much joy that my backpack is not there. The airport staff in charge of lost luggage makes me fill several forms, including the list of items contained in the bag; the forms have to be translated in Russian (in two copies), shown to the customs officer (who for some reason decides to rewrite the forms completely), signed by me (although for all I understood I might have signed a confession for the murder of Trotsky) and left there, in exchange for a small receipt with a code identifying my lost bag and a phone number.

And now what? I say. How do I get fresh clothes? Don't you give out some money, a voucher, an emergency kit with a soap, a toothbrush and an oversized t-shirt? Not our problem, says the airport staff. You have to ask the airline.

So that's what I do. I go to AirBaltic (or rather to some company called “DAVS”, which represents AirBaltic plus several other airlines in Moscow), and explain the situation to them. They're sorry, but there's nothing they can do. Their office in Riga doesn't know anything, and they are not allowed to give money or anything. So what I should do is buy whatever I need, keep the receipts and then write to AirBaltic, who maybe will refund my expenses.

As you can imagine, I wasn't angry, not at all.

But anyway, I go to the city and buy a couple of t-shirts, socks and underwear hoping that the bag will arrive in the next couple of days. Not that I have much choice.

(Commercial break – that's when you can go get some more popcorn. I'm going to get a tea from the train's samovar.)

Fast-forward two days later. After several phone calls and inquiries on different sides, I discover that the bag had never left Rome. It was now supposed to come on a plane landing at 5AM in Moscow. Nobody (obviously) knows anything when I call at 9AM, so I decide to add some pressure and go to the airport. I spend half a day there, and no bag. Somehow the handling agent in Rome (Aviapartner, I have to name names here), who had misplaced the bag in the first place, has written an inexistent flight number on the tag, so the bag is lost – again. And nobody knew where it is. I don't think there's many people who got their bag lost twice in a single flight, but there you go.

In anger and frustration, I go to AirBaltic (i.e. DAVS) again, and I scream so hard that one of the employees calls the police on me (no really, she does). Another interesting Russian experience, just on my third day there. Then the supervisor, a nice and calm man, smooths the issue out, offers me some tea (which is considerably nicer than having the police called on you) and explains he takes personal responsibility (unlike anyone else) and he will do his best to find the bag. Then he gives me his phone number so I can actually call him, and not wait for a call which would never come. (Not that he actually ever called me, or found the bag - but at least that was a nice thing to do).

So all's good and well, but he still hasn't found the bag and given me any money to buy new stuff. I decide that if the next morning there's no trace of the bag, I'll buy new stuff, bill it all to AirBaltic when I come back (writing a letter with the help of some lawyer), tell them to send the bag home and start on the journey. It's not like I want to hang around in Moscow indefinitely waiting for a bag which might not come.

And that's what happens, with an interesting twist: apparently, on the next day, when I make my final call to the airport before going to buy new stuff, and tell them not to bother anymore and send the bag back home, the luggage is actually in Moscow. But nobody knows, and nobody tells me - until the next day, which is too late.

The bag is now safely home, thanks for asking. It said it had an interesting trip. Next time I'll put a GPS tracker inside.

Ah, by the way... lawyers needed!

Preparations: Red Tape.

So, now you have a few weeks to spare and you have decided to do it: the Trans-Siberian, the Far East, the Pacific Ocean, Mongolia, China. Let's just book the plane to Moscow and jump on a train! Hmm, not so fast.

You need visas. These little pieces of paper can prove to be one of the most expensive and time-wasting tasks of your trip. So, the first advice is: start thinking about visas at least one month in advance. Particularly if your aim is the Trans-Mongolian, since you'll have to cross three countries, each with a different visa.

Let's start with China: surprisingly enough, the Chinese is the easiest visa you'll get. Discarding the patience to wait at the consulate (and there is a Chinese consulate practically in every country), you'll just need to compile a couple of pieces of paper, give a photo, some money (not too much, though far more for US citizens than for EU citizens), wait a few days (3 to 7) and off you go. You have to enter before 3 months from emission and you can stay for up to a month. Pretty flexible, for one of the last Communist countries. No real limit on where to go, either.

Mongolia: you have two options here.

• You only want a transit visa (valid nominally 5 days from when you enter the country; consider though that you'll need 1 to 2 days just to cross the country with the train), in which case you should go to the Mongolian consulate only after you already have the Chinese visa (if your final destination is China) or the Russian visa (if your final destination is Russia). If in doubt, get the Mongolian visa last. In theory, it should be possible to get the visa also at the border, but better safe than sorry.
• You want to spend a few more days in a yurt, so a transit visa is not enough. You should then get an invitation from a Mongolian entity (the Mongolian consulate itself suggested Zaya Hostel, 10 USD for an invitation letter).
• The third option is to have US, Israeli or another citizenship which allows you to travel visa-free to Mongolia.

In any case, the Mongolian visa process should be very fast (should you manage to find a Mongolian consulate near you, which is not necessarily easy): in Budapest, the visa was made by the Consul himself while we were waiting.

And finally, Russia. Probably one of the messiest visas in the world. You need an invitation letter, then you have to compile one or more papers (more if you are an American), including the exact dates of your visit (and have valid insurance for that period) and a list of the places you want to visit, and a photo. Advice: use a specialized travel agency. Even then though, it might be tricky. For example, if you are a US citizen in Europe and cannot prove that you will have a job there for 6 months you might see your visa refused. In such cases, it might be easier (although a bit stressful) to send your passport to some agency in the USA and get it back via post.

Plus, once in Russia, if you stay for more than 3 days in a place, you should register your visa there. Hotels will do it for free, otherwise you can ask hostels or travel agencies who will do it for a fee.

Oof! That's quite a lot. Still sure you want to go?

Preparations: Trains in Russia.

Buying tickets to make the Trans-Siberian (Trans-Mongolian or Trans-Manchurian) trip is not as easy as buying an Inter-Rail ticket.

Russian Railways do not have a "Trans-Siberian Pass", whereby you have a ticket from Moscow to Vladivostok and you can then use it as you prefer, breaking the journey wherever you see fit, maybe booking the sleeper ticket separately.*

When you want to buy a ticket for a Russian train, you have to be in Russia and you have to know exactly the date when you're travelling and the train you're taking. Tickets are nominal (you need to show your passport). Another interesting quirk is that all train timetables are displayed in Moscow time, through the whole Russian territory. Apparently, in some trains even restaurant carriages use Moscow times, thus offering breakfast in the afternoon or dinner in the middle of the night.

We have decided to travel platskartny (плацкартный: third class, a whole carriage filled with sleepers), and buy the tickets as we go, which is the only way to break our trip. Anyway, apparently Russians do not buy their tickets until they're at the station packed with their luggage ready to leave, so if we buy the follow-up tickets whenever we arrive in a city, we should be all set. Only trouble might be with the train leaving to Mongolia, but we'll see about that.

* Funnily enough, we've recently discovered (a little bit late though) that you can do exactly this if you buy the ticket through Slovakian Railways. You can buy a Citystar return ticket from Slovakia to any point in Russia (including Vladivostok, Irkutsk or what have you) for as little as 135 Euros (yes, you read it right - return ticket, any station). And if you're more than one person, there's even a discount. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen a "Bratislava-Vladivostok" return ticket with my own eyes. The only hitch to that wonderful plan is that you have to be in Slovakia to buy the ticket (which we are not, and now it's too late to organize everything through a third person. Ahh, next time).