I See No Sea

2009 09 14 – Day 80 – Shanhaiguan

I rose early with ambition to climb the nearby section of The Great Wall, hopeful of a grand view over Shanhaiguan and out to sea, before checking out some of the touristy stuff in town and a visit to the shore before heading on to my next destination at the end of the afternoon. Seemed feasible.
A short but wobbly ride in a three wheel red Reliant Robbin wannabe got me to the Great Wall park before anyone else, including, it seemed, the park staff! At first, I was being told by my driver and others hanging around outside, that it wasn't open yet and I couldn't enter, but the gates were wide open and my persistence eventually revealed that actually it was just the chairlift that wasn't operational yet and if I was crazy enough to walk up, then of course I could enter! Which I did. At that point, of course some staff did materialise from round some corner or other to make sure I paid my entrance fee.

Didn't look too bad a climb.
Before I knew it I had my own personal Great Wall climbing coach:

Waddling up to my side and then bouncing on ahead, then pausing to grin back at me – come on Martin! It's enthusiasm was infectious. I'm not quite sure how it managed to bound up stairs twice the height of it's legs, but it was inspirational!

As the climb got progressively steeper I started to worry for my little chum, who now needed more regular breaks, lungs clearly working overtime, visibly heaving. But the panting pooch would not give it up... Until the onward path was a ladder into a tower:

Or so I thought! Down the other side of the tower and re-joining the wall, there was pooch, waiting for me! Clearly the little bounder had been this way before.

Entering the wooded crest of the hill I began to encounter beasties:

Spiders with leg spans of about 15cm, and possibly the hairiest caterpillar ever:

Good thing the temple at the peak had some guardians:

Over the other side, the scenery was quite different and the sun began to power its way through the smog, giving me hope of a fine view:

But time wore on and sun and smog seemed to reach a stalemate and I had to return to the town if I wanted to fit everything in.
By the time I was most of the way down, the smog had won and, though I had a reasonable view of the plain between mountains and sea that Shanhaiguan protected, I would not have the view to the sea that I'd hoped for.

But a wedding or two is not a bad substitute!

One of the two couples enjoying a photoshoot with the greatest of walls on their special day.

Back in town, visiting the First Pass Under Heaven, I got a consolation prize:

At last! A view of the sea!
Ok, not quite what I'd hoped for, but a fine artistic depiction of the strategic significance of Shanhaiguan and its position between mountains and sea.

What A Lot of Weddings!

2009 08 08 – Day 43 – Almaty

Strolling down the dusty mountain road, a marriage of giants was not the first thing I expected to see!

Back near Almaty city limits there were gathered countless wedding parties... it seems the mountains and fountains are the number one wedding picture backdrop.

There are at least five brides in this frame and that's just a fraction of the total swanning around. As my guide and I left the scene, it seemed like half the 'pedestrians' we passed were brides, grooms, or photographers!

Uzbek Wedding

2009 08 01 – Day 36 - Samarkand

Just like in all the TV travel shows, there just happened to be a wedding in the village involving one of Ruslan's many relatives, so naturally I was invited to join in the merriment.

Normally I'd wear something a bit smarter for a wedding, but Ruslan was convinced that what I was wearing was fine and so, since he was my guide and means of access to the rest of my wardrobe back at the hotel, I deferred to his judgement.

As the remaining daylight drains from the sky, so the guests numbers rise and the party gets started.

The seating arrangements seemed to be on a sex segregation per table basis, but other than that it was unclear if there was any particular formula for who sat where. This fine selection of villagers, friends and family at my table, non of whom spoke English, took me under their wing and made sure my vodka dish was never dry....
and that I emptied it...
regularly!

Well lubricated by now, I was easily persuaded to follow the tradition of giving tips to this young lady shaking her thing around the reception... whose idea it was that I should join her in the process, I don't recall, but as the token novelty foreigner there, it was my duty surely?

No doubt due to the beers and vodka I'd consumed earlier in the day with Ruslan and friends, and reinforced by the endless and enthusiastic supply of vodka at the party, there's not much more I remember from the night! I don't know who the bride and groom were, when they arrived, how late the party went on or what the band sounded like!

Aralsk-Tashkent Train

2009 07 29-30 – Days 33-34 - Aralsk-Tashkent train

Having made the train with only seconds to spare, I had to walk through eight coaches to find mine. Those coaches I passed through were clearly one step down from my class on the Moscow-Aralsk train, with no compartments, no air conditioning and six berths in the same space as four... it was hot and cramped and I felt pretty awkward bundling my way through with my big rucksack.
As soon as I found my more comfortable compartment, I was immediately relocated to an available berth elsewhere in the carriage after the policeman holding a private dinner party in my original compartment had a word with the carriage guard. Settling in to my unofficial berth, sharing the compartment with a young mother and her one-year-old, the carriage guard comes and asks me for 200 Rubles for the bedsheets.... I didn't know anything of this charge I protest! It doesn't mention such a thing on my ticket I claim (not totally sure as it's in Russian) and I didn't have to pay such a fee on the Moscow-Aralsk train... He doesn't entirely understand and I'm in no hurry to give way to the charge which sounds a bit fishy... I'm not sure he won't pocket the money. He disappears for a short while and returns with a translator – fellow passenger 16 year old Julia. Now able to communicate, it becomes clear that other passengers have paid this charge... but that doesn't change my position of disappointment at hidden charges.... surprisingly the guard concedes that he can accept, instead of payment and to cover the shortfall in his accounts, a letter outlining why I refused to pay! After some consideration of the possibility that writing such a letter would create more problems than would be worth the money it saved, I decided to do it on principle, since I had the option.


Julia with my statement and her translation.

While the bedsheets charge was being addressed, the policeman whose compartment I was supposed to share arrived at the doorway and inquires, through Julia, why am I traveling alone? Who will help me if something goes wrong? I reply, through Julia, that I don't know, that I'll deal with problems when they occur and I'm sure local people will help me. His response is a grunt that sets him in motion back to his compartment. Was he indirectly threatening me? I ask Julia... she thinks he was just drunk.


Curious and charismatic fellow passenger Ruslan (left) invites himself into my compartment and, requisitioning my Russian phrasebook, leafs through for a word he probably won't find to help his enthusiastic questioning. Intoxicated policeman (right) interrupts for a brief while, asking the same questions as before and insisting I take his photo.
Ruslan and I get on quite well and share some beers at the next station stop and spend much of the rest of the afternoon in entertaining banter with some assistance from Julia, her Mum, Ruslan's friend and my Russian phrasebook.

The second day on a train seems to be when all the locals really want to get to know you and I spent the last hour or two before Tashkent being quizzed by these friendly locals on what seem to be the standard topics – Where am I from? Why am I traveling alone? Where's my wife? Why aren't I married? Apparently I should find myself a nice Uzbek girl...

Russian Girls

2009 07 25 – Day 29 – Moscow

3 short stories on Russian girls:

1. Eating dinner in a Ukrainian restaurant the night before, I overheard a South African businessman, who had worked in Dubai for some time, explaining to a female local guide that she shouldn't try to go to Dubai without a partner. In Dubai, 'Russian Girl' is another word for prostitute. Apparently this came from an event a few years ago, where a business man was pushed from his hotel balcony by an angry Russian prostitute who he'd refused to pay, claiming he hadn't known that she was one. He died. Dubai's rulers decided the appropriate reaction was to expel all single Russian girls.

2. From my observation in St Petersburg and Moscow, Russian girls all seem to be amateur models. That is to say, modeling is one of their favourite things to do, not that they've all got classic 'model' looks. I've never before seen so many people who are theoretically 'sight-seeing', when in reality they're taking pictures for their (homebrew) modeling portfolio. Their collection of photos must be 'there's me in this dress and there's me in that top etc etc blah blah... oh, and they were taken outside the Kremlin by the way'. There was so much energy expended striking their chosen stereotypical modeling-type pouting poses – adjusting hair, hips, shoulders, lips etc and jostling for position or queue jumping other young girls with the same idea... The amateur photographers of these amateur models were most often mothers, who applied makeup like the quantity they applied was proportional to the years it knocked off, or it was friends holding the lens or occasionally younger brothers, but I don't remember seeing any 'photoshoot' really working a shot in a way that would get a great image. The strange thing for me was that they clearly saw historic locations such as the Kremlin or St Basil's as exciting photographic locations, but the location to them would just be different decoration to a photo of them! I'm just glad I didn't get asked to look through any of their albums, which I imagine would be extremely tedious.

3. Following on from story 2 above, they seem oblivious to other people taking photos and whether they are encroaching on someone else's shot or indeed the opposite – not seeming to care whether others are spoiling their own shot (other than if it blocks the line between the camera and subject/amateur model). As a result, when this young English gent (me) pauses to wait for them to take their photo(shoot), trying to not intrude or ruin their photo, they notice... as these three girls did, waving me on like it didn't matter that I would wandering aimlessly in the background of their photo when they could have had one without anyone (a real rarity).

Shortly after, as we were all independently ambling accross the (never used) road, a jobs-worthy Kremlin military guy blew his whistle at us and indicated that we should use the crossing provided... so we backtracked to cross near enough to the zebra crossing and as I reached the other side, they introduced themselves. They were three friends from Volgograd, two visiting one who lived & worked in Moscow. One had enough English to ask me all the questions she and her friends could think of and was clearly delighted that I understood her and that she understood my answers. They asked : where was I from; why am I in Moscow; what have I seen/done; how long am I in Moscow; why am I travelling alone; am I married; do I have a girlfriend; why I don't have a girlfriend; would I like to marry one of them - not a pick-and-mix or take your pick, but a particular one who didn't speak English and clearly saw herself as 'the pretty one'.... I tactfully replied that I was just beginning a big solo adventure and now would not be an appropriate time to get married, but thanks for the offer! We'd walked out of the Kremlin by this point and were clearly approaching the vocabularaic boundaries of the English speaking girl. Fortunately I needed to retreive my day bag from the cloakroom which was not the direction that they were going so it was easy enough to say friendly goodbyes and go our separate ways... each of us chuckling to ourselves for different reasons!

St Petersburg Weddings

2009 07 12 – Day 16 – St Petersburg


There seemed to be an incredible number of weddings going on in St Petersburg while we were there... I think I read about it being an auspicious weekend or something in the St Petersburg free paper – Tall Ships English language special edition. There were a lot of hummer-limos but this limo seemed suitably ostentatious and picture-worthy. Nice of a local pigeon to imitate a dove for me at the appropriate moment.