Vladivostok

As you know, I did not think I would get much time in Vladivostok. I thought the train was to arrive the morning the ferry left. Fact is, though, that the train arrived a full day ahead of time. Enough time to take in the sights. 

I figured I could sleep a few hours in the train station after my 1:45 arrival.  And it was working fine. Until the guy next to me decided he wanted to learn English. For the next 45 minutes, he had me read from the "Learning English" text he had in his bag. And he practiced. And practiced. But I wanted to sleep and sleep. Luckily, around 3:00 the cleaning crew came in, and made us lift our feet. So, I retreated to a further set of chairs and set myself for sleep. I did not get much, but it was tolerable. They actually turned out most of the lights. But they kept up the every fifteen minute recorded announcement. I am sure it was all about security and not smoking, but its real   intent was to make sure our sleep was not peaceful. 

I figured about 6:30, I would find the buses running and head for the hostel. Instead, I found a raging downpour, with wind and lightning and all. I did not need to go out in that, so I waited an extra hour for it to abate. I got to the hostel about eight, but it was not ready for me. So, I had some tea, and headed out to see Vladivostok. 

There was, after all, only seven things listed in Lonely Planet to see. 

The weather was miserable.  Vladivostok is known, among other things, as "the San Francisco of Siberia." We'll, it does have hills and tall bridges, I hear, but I could not see them for the thick fog. It was muggy, rainy, and murky. The fog was everywhere. 

Beautiful day for museums. So, after a stop at the ferry terminal to check things out, I headed to the first museum. It was closed except for the first floor. I skipped it. The second museum was closed indefinitely, but had a temporary exhibit open twelve blocks away. The third indoor activity, the picture gallery was closed for repair. The fourth did not open until August 21. Frustrated, I went to what Lonely Planet described as "vladivostok's favorite attraction may just be the smoothest-running operation in the Far East: the well-oiled funicular rail way, which every few minutes makes a fun 60 second ride up a 100 meter hill."

It looks like this:

Maybe it is hard to pick up in the photo,but note the piles of trash and the barred doors!  

(I climbed the four billion stairs to the top, because the sun was burning off the fog and I wanted to see the city. It was getting nicer--although still hazy. )

At any rate, my museum closing luck left me only the war museum, based on the gun  emplacement  that defended the city. I eventually found it. The entrance had been moved, and I had to approach from a different street. And the old submarine museum was right where it was supposed to be, and fairly interesting, if campy. 

But as the day wore on, the weather cleared, showing off a city with lots of spectacular sights. Water, and hills, and lots of walking. This last pic was taken out o me side of the hostel. The other side shows a similar scene, since we are out on a peninsula. 

At any rate, I have to get ready to leaveRussia  tomorrow. 

For The Skeptical

There are those who read the story yesterday about how that fat hard belly lady crushed my shoulder against the wall of the train, here is proof. I knew if I sat out there long enough she would come by again.  

So, this morning I lay in wait to capture photographic proof!!!

She went off to the bathroom. I took my place on the little jump seat, patiently waiting her return. Then, I saw he at the end of the aisle. I steadied the camera, every muscle tensed. If I did not wait until that rhinoceros belly moved into view on the little screen, I would prove nothing. If I waited a split second too long, I was inviting another crushing blow of my innocent, vulnerable, shoulder between that enormous, firm fatbody and the hard Formica of the trains interior wall. But my loyal  blog fan(s?) deserved to know what I was suffering. 

There, you see it. A big, crushing belly aiming right at my sore shoulder. You cannot tell how firm it is, rock hard and ready to crush and maim. 

I snapped the proof, hopped up, and pressed against the sidewall in hopes of avoiding further injury. It was over. The moment captured in a photo. Proof that roving bellies exist walking along train aisles looking for innocents. 

In examining the photo later, I noticed that I had captured also two sleeping feet. Those who have been following these exploits should recognize them as the feet of the amazing narcoleptic human that keeps me from my rightful seat in my compartment!

This train ride is getting boring. 

When is Now?

I'm having difficulty trying to keep track of time.

Since every day I go to a few churches ( or temples, and even a mosque, depending on where I am) while taking in the sights, I don't try to keep track of when Sunday is. I am in church(es) a lot. It mattered little what day it was out in yert land. On the train every day is the same. 

 Once I went to a museum, but it was closed that day of the week. Other than that, it really has not mattered what day of the week it was.

I do have to worry about the Korean ferry. It is only once a week, on Wednesdays. 

But, really, what time is it? 

To start with. All scheduled times on the train are Moscow times. And so things are five or six or seven hours off, depending on where you are. And since everything out the train windows looks the same, it is hard to tell where one is. Besides, scenery does not tell you what time zone you are in. 

You have to figure where you are by the name of the cities on the occasional stops. But even here, it is tricky. They write 

(Ouch---dang that hurts.    

Sorry, for the interruption,  but that really hurt. 

As I type this, I am sitting in the aisle on a jump seat and everybody is happily squeezing by. I can't sit in my compartment because the two lazy asses who have the bottom seats--that are supposed to be seats by day and beds only at night--have been stretched out for something like 29 hours, leaving me no place to sit besides in the upper bunk. I swear the guy must have slept at least twenty four of those hours. (And now, as I am getting ready to send this up, he is up to about 40 of the 46 hours.   And he is asleep still!!!  How does he do it?!?)

Okay so I'm sitting out here and people have been happily squeezing by. But then this big fat woman comes by, and squashes my  shoulders between the wall and her massive belly. And it was not squishy fat. It was hard, with no give. This pain in my neck/shoulder is always there. But when it gets whacked like that----ouch. It is like somebody stepping on your toe, hard, while hitting your funny bone. Pain, pins and needles and all that. Hard bellied blimpo making my shoulder hurt worse. 

Anyway--back to the thing about losing track of time. )

I was saying it was tricky to tell where you are because the name of the town is written in some kind of code. I don't know what they are trying to hide, since all the Russians seem to know the code. There are backward K's and R's and upside down N's, and mathematical symbols like Pi and Delta. And what's  with putting a 3 in the middle of a word? They have an X with a vertical line in the middle. Even the letters that look real don't say what they are supposed to.  For instance, if you see the letter B, you are supposed to say V. Vowels don't say their names, like they do in American. Real pain in the butt trying to read anything. So, you can't just look out and see where you are.  You have to decode stuff. 

And don't tell me to go by the sun. They put too many clouds up there to get that to work. And  besides, I'm not sure the sun knows what it is supposed to be doing. 

 Last night when my watch said 11:30  pm local time, I looked out the window and the sky was still light. How does that work? 

 

It looks like the train system is also messed up. One attachment I got from Russian rail confirming this trip says I get there at 18:45 August 5. This means 1:45 am August 6.  (See, I told you it was screwy!) The other says 18:45 August 6  which means early morning August 7. Go figure. 

I mean, if the train does not know the day, how am I supposed to keep of when now is?

On The Train Again Again.

I'm 13 hours into a 65 hour train ride. This is the one to Vladivostok. So, when I get there, I will have completed the Trans Siberian-- one of the things I have always wanted to do. 

I will get to Vladivostok at 18:40 something. That's seven o'clock or so in the evening. Unfortunately it is Moscow time,  and will be 1:40 am local. Russia is seven time zones across. 

The ferry leaves at three, and I am supposed to be there at noon. The ferry wharf is next to the train station. I cannot see walking the streets of Vladivostok in the middle of the night to get to the hostel I had reserved.  So I may just sit in the train station till daybreak. I can check my backpack at left luggage and play it by ear from then on. 

The scenery has changed. It looks like West Virginia or Pennsylvania, lots of green hills. The title dachas, farmhouses, etc. look. little nicer, a little richer. 

I wish I could get better pics, but the blogging system I  using is limited to phone pics, and those are taken through a dirty train window, with tinting and glare from solar reflection.  Still largely cloudy. 

Here is a pic the Kazakhs insisted I take last night, showing the historic meeting of Kazakhstan, Cuba, and the oooooh essss. Ahhhhh. Then the Kazakhs drank too much beer, and got mad at each other and started yelling until at least 1:30, making it so I could not sleep when I had to get up at 4:00 to catch a train. 

Star Hop or Goto

I strongly suspect that the only people reading this stuff are my wife Judy and my mother in law Sue. So, the reference in the title to star hopping and goto may not be useful.  But here it is. 

Star hopping is where you use maps, charts, little patterns and pointers in the sky to hunt down whatever you are looking for. Then you look at it. It takes luck, hard work, patience, and time. And it only works most of the time. Then, after looking for a minute or two at your quarry, you spend another fifteen minutes hunting your next object. 

Goto is where you set your telescope up just right, and press a few buttons on the controller, and zip, it goes right to the object. Then you look at it. If you have set everything up right (which can be a challenge), it is simple pie, quick, and effortless. And after looking at the object for a minute or two, you zip off to the next object in a few seconds (or go in and  warm up with some coffee or something).

What you are looking at in astronomy is pretty much the same whether your scope got there by star hopping or goto. 

I like to star hop when doing visual astronomy, but use goto for astroimaging. 

For traveling, I like both star hopping and goto. In travel, star hopping is the way I am doing this trip. Goto is the way I do trips with Judy. 

When Judy and I are going someplace, we often book a tour with Tauck or somebody. We know where we are going, where we will be staying, what sights we will see, and all that. Somebody tells us where to be to meet the bus. Our luggage magically appears in the room, just as and when it should. Food, clean and edible American food, shows up when expected at the table. We never (or at least rarely) get lost. Everybody speaks English. 

Not so when "star hopping," that is, the way I am traveling now. I have to figure out where things are. I have to get maps. I have to guess what the food will be, even as I am ordering it. And sometimes as I am eating it. I have to carry my own bag (even if the little roller things broke way back in Warsaw). North, east and so forth are often not recognizable, and sometimes the map is in a whole different alphabet, not to mention language. 

Everybody else knows where and how to get on the bus, how much and who to pay, and when to get off. But you don't. 

When I do "goto" traveling, I know I am sharing the room with Judy. So, I know who is snoring. (Me). When "star hopping" type of travel , that is, living in the hostel, I have no idea who is snoring, who did not wash his feet, why that idiot has to have a conversation in here while I am trying to sleep. . . . You know. 

But in astronomy, whether star hopping or goto, you see bthe same object. It looks the same. True, the challenge, experience, and for me the satisfaction, is much greater with star hopping. You just get more out if it. (In my opinion.)

Same is true in travel. 

If Tauck or Crystal Cruises had arranged this trip for me, I might have seen the same buildings. But I got to walk around them instead of just driving by. I would have gotten to the Ethnographic Outdoor   Museum in an air conditioned bus instead of a sweaty shared taxi. But I would have been able to walk around only an hour before being whisked off to some overgrown souvenirs store that the claimed was an authentic local artisans workshop. (You know, they show you how a carpet is made for ten minutes and then you have an hour to shop the carpet store. )

There is more to say here.    But the Kazakhs that want me to help eat the dinner they just  made here in the hostel and i am too distracted. So I will just save to the web for now. 

Continuing later.  

And then the guy from Cuba came in and the Kazakhs wanted a historic picture of Cuba, Kazakhstan, and oooesssahhhh together. And so we took the picture.  And now everybody took off or something. So I am sitting here with Russian television. Suddenly alone and quiet. 

I was saying something about traveling like I do I have more experiences than u get on organized tours.   I guess I made my point. Maybe I'll expand in it later. Maybe not. 

RT...Russian Television

I kinda thought the Cold War was over until I was surfing the channels on the hostel television here in Ulan Ude. 

I can only stand so much of the Discovery Channel overdubbed. I mean, who really needs the dialogue in Mythbusters and Ice Road Truckers--but still. 

I found only one channel in English. RT is a standard 24 hour news channel. The weird thing is that it seems to be exclusively centered on US news. And it seems to be really negative about the U S. 

For instance, yesterday as I was spreading my peanut butter over a tasty roll, there was an piece about how the FDA allows certain additives and preservatives in American food while the EU does not. There was no mention that Russia also allows these additives. This morning the talking heads are complaining that Wal- mart and fast foods do not provide a living wage in the US. No mention of wage standards here. 

They are pushing an upcoming special about surveillance cameras in the US. Like they don't have them here? Remember all those shots of the Chelyabinsk meteor explosion? They were all security camera shots. 

You can imagine their coverage of the Snowden thing. 

I'm not saying we are wonderful and they are not. I'm just wondering why the only English language channel is:

1. Exclusively focused on the US

And

2. It is so focused on the negative

Who would be watching it? 

Why?

Just thinking. 

Back in Ulan Ude

Everything went wonderful today--almost everything. 

I had to catch a bus early, and so I told everybody in the hostel to get me up early. One lady promised she would get it done because she was a light sleeper and early riser. 

I set two alarms and did not sleep much worrying about whether I would get up in time. Then about four o'clock I noticed the light sleeper/early waker's bed was empty. She was already awake.  No problem. She would wake me. Relax. But I could not go back to sleep. So at 5:00 I got up to shower. The lady was not around outside in the common room but as I walked back in, I saw her in a different bed than where she had gone to sleep. She waved at me and, noticing my quizzical look said "I moved.   Bedbugs "

OK, I thought.  Good reason to move. But is it really possible to have a six bunkbed dorm and have bedbugs in just one? Can you move away from them? And how does she know they were there? Don't you find out only the next morning?

Any ways, I headed out the door worrying whether I would get any taxi, and especially one at the proper price. It was barely 6:00 in the morning. By the time I had gotten to the sidewalk, I had two taxis drawing a bead on me. But a third made a wild u-turn in front if them. I showed him the little piece of paper that I had asked the hostel manager to write the destination and price (voxhall 4000t). He said "yup." I got in and boom all my worries were over. 

I was relieved because I had a real problem a few days ago getting back from Mongolia. I got attacked by about five taxi drivers who wanted 10000 to get me to the hostel. I said 6000 since that is what my hostel manager said it should cost. (And what I had paid a week ago to get to the bus station. ) Nobody wanted to go to 6000. So I started to walk away, and two guys came up and said come with them. I said 6000 and wrote it on the card for the hostel ( with the map) and showed it to them. They said "yes," using universal sign language if not words.  They take me to their car, which already has a driver and another guy in it. I show the card and the number 6000 on it. He says," yeah, and shakes his head up and down. I put my luggage in the trunk (something I don't like to do because it can be held as hostage. )

(I am writing this while drinking a really bad beer. It is Ulan Ude local and tastes sour like the fermented mares milk in the yurts.    But I finished it.  ) 

So I get in the taxi ( remember--every car in this part of the world is a taxi. You just have to pay to get a ride. ) I got me and two guys in back, the driver and a passenger in front. And my luggage in the trunk. The crew is just out looking for a way to get somebody to pay for their night out. They are driving the right direction. Finally, I get them to pull over near my hostel. ( They had no idea where it was, but had gotten close with the map card and my directions. ) so, they stop. I get out, And magically the trunk opens, my stuff is out. I hand the guy the 6000 and he says 10000. I say 6000. He gets mad and starts shouting. I show him the card that says 6000. He just yells some more and says 10 with his fingers. I hand out 6000. He starts to walk away without it, turn sand takes it, then storms back to the drivers seat. I start crossing the street to the hostel. The driver is making a hasty u turn right back my way. I did not look back, but hurried on, finished crossing the street and hurried in the door. 

No such problem today. Just got on the bus and twelve hours later pulled into Ulan Ude. I had made reservations at ones hostel but when u got there was told they were full, but had made a place for me at a hostel a kilter or so away. And up six flights of stairs. 

I was disappointed because that was an additional kilometer away from the train station.  And in a couple of days I have to leave from there at 5:00 am.    But I found another good hostel nearby. And all is well.