April in Moscow

Home tomorrow!  I miss Jane, my friends, my mother.  I even miss work!
For those of you interested in an alternative view of the trip, try Jim Troupis' blog From Russia With Law.
Light rain in the morning this Wednesday.  The shuttle to downtown Moscow takes 75 minutes today, a little longer than yesterday.  I immediately hop the metro to the Park Kulturi station, walk across the Moscow River bridge to get to the Tretyakov sculpture park.  Across the road from the Tetryakov is Gorky Park, made famous in the 1981 novel of the same name by Martin Cruz Smith.  The roller coasters of that park are right along the river bank.  The sculpture park admission is 20 rubles, about 65 cents.  It adjoins the Tretyakov 20th century art gallery and is many blocks away from the main Tretyakov Galleries I visited yesterday. 

One of the first sculptures encountered

Yesterday I mentioned the Amazing Race Moscow Episode which required counting how many statues of Lenin and how many of Stalin are in the park.  Below is one of the Stalin statues with some of his vicitms behind him.

Stalin With Heads Behind Wire Grating

Predominantly the statues were not of Soviet Leaders.  Those occupied only a small corner of the park called "The Graveyard of Fallen Monuments".   Below are Marx and Lenin.

Its an Old Joke, But I'm an Old Guy

Some of the staures are of wood as below.

Then back across the river to the metro circle (brown) line which is recommended on Trip Advisor.  More artwork, more marble.  I need to transfer at the Mendeleev station.  It is decorated with oversized models of atoms, befitting the creator of the chemical periodic table.  I've found a station a little closer to the hotel and get off there for the 4 km walk.  There are no uncertainties about the route today as it follows the road the shuttle has taken today and yesterday.  For my physician friends, here is a photo of a TV series promotion at a bus stop.

The Title Transliterates to Interni

Some Russian acquaintances have told me they consider themselves to have won World War II.  They recount that Hitler and the Germans had their first defeat in the battle of Moscow in 1941-42.  There is a sense of personal attachment to the war.  The Soviet Union is estimated to have lost 26,600,000 citizens in the war with 8,000,000 to 10,700,000 being military casualties.  The dead totalled over 14% (1 in 7) of the population of the Soviet Union at the time.  In contrast the United States lost 418,500 in the war or 0.32% of the population at the time.  Posters are up around Moscow and were also visible in Irkutsk celebrating the victory.

My Guess is 65 Years of Victory

One last image from today is below.  This one is graphic, so be warned or look away.  I've mentioned how omnipresent cigarettes are here.  The government is trying to discourage smoking.

Smoking is Suicide

Well, it is time to re-pack my impressive mound of dirty clothes for tomorrow's scheduled flight home.  Jim Troupis told me he would get me out of my comfort zone.  Jim is not known for understatement, but he accomplished it because my comfort zone was blown away.  I'm not much of an envelope pusher.  Jim, I'm already plotting my revenge.

Da svidanya,

Bill

Kremlin Walking

Today I'm anxious.  The Sound of Music  song lines are going through my head, "Totally unprepared am I . . ."

I'm planning on seeing the Kremlin and trying the Moscow Metro and who knows what else.  The hotel has a free shuttle scheduled to take 90 minutes to get to downtown because of the unpredictability of traffic here.  I'm hoping to take the metro back as close to the hotel as I can, but it will still be a substantial walk.  Pickpockets worry me.  I hedge against loss by putting my passport in my breast pocket underneath my jacket, my phone in one pants pocket and my billfold in another with that pocket covered by the tether of my pedometer.  My daily goal with the pedometer is 10,000 steps.  I have not made it once on this trip.

The shuttle takes only 65 minutes through roads that are as many as five lanes in each direction and filled with vehicles.  As soon as I leave the van, some golden domes and spires are visible.  I head toward them passing the Russian Duma (parliament).  The street to Red Square looks like it is impossible to cross as a pedestrian and I see no one attempting it.  Then I figure out there is an underpass for pedestrians.  It leads to the metro, but also to Red Square.  The underpass is extensive with many branches and filled with shops, some upscale.

Then I am on the rain-slicked paving stones of Red Square!  A few of the tourist kiosks are just opening.  Perhaps ten other people are on the giant square, plus a few guards and workers.  To my left is the famous GUM department store, famous for having bare shelves frequently during the Soviet era, but now the Russian equivalent of Harrod's or Macy's.  To my right is the Kremlin wall with its turrets and enormous brick wall.  Lenin's mausoleum is in the middle of that wall.  Straight ahead are the golden domes and spires of St. Basil's Cathedral.

GUM Department Store

St. Basil's Cathedral

The Wall of the Kremlin

I am awed and overwhelmed by being here.  I grew up during the Cold War.  Bad things happened in the Kremlin.  Now school children line up for tours.  I don't know how much of it they get to see.  Red Square descends to the Moscow River and I cross the bridge and find a park with a striking sculpture group of 15 figures.

Children are the Victims of Adults' Vices

I encounter my first panhandler of the trip as a man approaches me and switches effortlessly to English saying, "I don't want money, but could you buy me a cup of coffee?"

Crossing the next river I come to the Tretyakov Gallery and decide to try to spend more time tomorrow.  There is a sculpture park I want to spend time seeing.  It was featured on my favorite TV show, "The Amazing Race."

I re-cross both rivers ending up on the other side of the Kremlin from Red Square and browse the Kremlin gift shop.  Now I need to find the Тверская metro stop. When I do find the entrance, again there is an underground shopping mall before the actual entrance to the metro.  I find the metro ticket office and hold up five fingers and slide 125 rubles to the cashier.  She gives me an access card.  I observe how others are using the cards and follow suit.  It is a touch system identical to the London Tube.  After going down an escalator, I try to find the signs for the train to the владыкино metro stop but do not see them.  I check my map, then notice that the sign for line 9, the grey line, points down the hall.  The station is full of marble and well-kept.  There is frequent artwork remaining from the Soviet era.  After descent of two more escalators, I see the sign for the train toward владыкино and it arrives promptly.  I count seven stops from the map in the train and everything works.  It is actually one of the easiest and cleanest subways I've encountered with the language the biggest barrier.

Leaving the владыкино metro station, I look for a map of the neighborhood and find it.  The street starting my walk back to the hotel is on the map and I think I've got the right direction.  Forty-five minutes  and 2.8 miles later I am at the hotel.  My feet are talking to me.  My pedometer says over 17,000 steps today.  Maybe tomorrow I'll brave the bus system as it seems there is no metro station closer.

Polyglot Monday

When I was 16 years old, I lived in southern Iran with an Iranian family that had 3 sons, the eldest, Omid, a year younger than me.  I was an exchange student for the summer of 1969 with American Field Service (AFS).  Communicating was a challenge.  I would study Farsi with the son who was entering first grade.  The language is written right to left with the Arabic alphabet even though it is not an Arabic language.  However, numbers are written left to right.  A challenge, indeed.
Learning some Russian is the biggest language and communication challenge I can remember since 1969.  The cyrillic alphabet, while written left to right, is confusing.  I have a hard time recognizing words as a whole, instead having to phonetically plow through them, frequently getting stresses and vowel sounds completely wrong, not always knowing which letters are silent and which pronounced.  Sign language and gestures are coming in handy.
There are 35 channels on the TV in the Iris Congress Hotel room: some in Russian, English, French, Japanese, German, Korean, Italian, Chinese, Polish, Spanish, Turkish, and Arabic.
The people sitting around me at breakfast are speaking Arabic, German, Russian, Chinese, and English.  The breakfast staff handle it all without knowing all the languages.  I think the reception staff handle it by knowing English and Russian.
Learning a language necessarily requires learning about a culture as well.  This meeting of languages and cultures inspires me.
Tomorrow I'm planning on Red Square, the Kremlin, the famous Moscow Metro and who knows what else?
خداحافظ
До свидания!
Au revoir
auf wiedersehen
Ciao
Adios
Until we meet again,
Bill

This Was Unexpected or Eyjafjallajokull

Irkutsk time as the alarm goes off: 4:50AM Sunday or US Eastern time 3:50PM Saturday.  No internet since Wednesday,  no TV,  no newspaper, but somehow we had heard there was a problem with a volcano somewhere.


All packed and ready to get back to Venice. Gala comes with the taxi at 5:20AM as planned, but the gate to the street is locked and Jim and I have to haul my luggage to the Lenin Street entrance to the university. The trip to the airport goes well, the flight if on time and its an exit row seat. Everything’s going well. Breakfast (?) is chicken and rice with ‘Nilla Wafers or similar for dessert. The flight arrives early to Moscow; 7:30AM Moscow time, 12:30PM Irkutsk time, or Venice time 11:30 Saturday night. Then the pattern shifts. After collecting luggage and a 5 minute bus trip to the terminal where Delta is, one of the baggage checking people tells me my flight is delayed. The board still says on time and the Delta counter isn’t open yet. However, a long line is waiting for it to open. I hang around the area and find a sign saying the Delta flight for today and tomorrow is cancelled due to the vulcano eruption (sic). The Delta lady at the counter gives me the local Delta phone number, but I can’t get it to work on my mobile. I call the US Sky Miles number and eventually get the last seat on the Thursday flight! Delta helps me with a room at about a 2/3 discount at the Iris Congress Hotel in Moscow. I call Jane to let her know the situation, but I forget that I am no longer on Irkutsk time and wake her at 1:40AM. After hanging around the airport terminal for a few hours, getting some more rubles, I negotiate a taxi to the hotel. He says 2500 rubles, I say nyet; he says 2000. I shake my head and say 1200. He says “1500, just for you.” Why do I think I've still been had?  OK, the Iris Congress Hotel is 25 minutes away, 8 stories and quite comfortable and modern with breakfast included.

Actually looks like this photo from trip advisor

 I’ve called Jim and hope he is not affected by the volcanic ash later this week. I call Gala and she promises to see if she can help with tours or contacts while I’m here in Moscow.
Disappointed in not getting home to see Jane.  Powerless (Surely there's a way they can make an exception for me!  Get ME back home even if they cannot get the other 20,000 people stranded at SVO out).  What to do?  Tour Moscow.  Get internet service.  Eat something other than M & M's.  All planned for the next few days.
Da svidanya,
Bill

Spring Comes to Siberia

The Irkutsk train station, one of the major stops on the Trans-Siberian Express, evokes similarities to American train stations:  high ceilings, marble walls and columns, electronic timetable boards and stairs down to the platforms with family and school groups as well as individuals walking around.  Announcements come through the PA system.  Just after 8AM, Gala, Jim, and I accompanied by two other law school faculty, Maria and Tatiana, board and sit in our reserved seats of the modern car of the circumbaikal tourist train.  The train leaves the snow flurries of Irkutsk and parallels the Angara River until it turns a bit further south climbing into the mountains.  We pass by daschas (summer homes) along the river.  They are packed closely together and remind me of the cottages in Wisconsin we rented as a family for vacations.  The snow flurries taper as we climb into the forest.  We have a huge bag of picnic goodies for the day, packed by the university dining room personnel.  Unlike my family, we have not eaten all the food before the train even pulls out.
Late in the morning views of frozen Lake Baikal replace the forested mountains and valleys.  The surface of Lake Baikal is 455 meters above sea level and we are well above it.  Our first stop is at a small station with a statue of Prince Hugo who was somebody who had something to do with the train; look it up if you need more information.  While we're out of the train, I notice the snow is great for packing into snowballs.  So does a group of students on an outing.
Upon reboarding the train at the southern tip of Lake Baikal, we start going backwards for the rest of the trip up the west coast of the lake to end in Port Baikal.  We have several more stops, mostly at picturesque areas of the railway.  We pass by picnic tables and one small tent on the shore of the lake.  While stopped where one frozen river empties into Lake Baikal, some of the group hire ATV's to ride on the lake.  Our group has a snowball fight; no injuries, no victors or vanquished and our picnic resumes on the train.  Tea and cognac are the drinks of choice.  The tracks curve on the very edge of the lake and our progress is slow.  At one of the stops a flower that looks a bit like a dandelion is peeking through the snow, which is melting slowly. Finally we reach Port Baikal, a small village across the origin of the Angara River from Listvyanka, where our van back to Irkutsk awaits.  We are told we will be on boat 3 of 4 to cross to Listvyanka, so we have some time for the museum at the train station.  Boat 3 turns out to be an airboat (think Everglades transportation) as are the others.  We walk out on the ice and get inside the enclosed cabin.  There are skids and doughnuts as we cross the ice.  We're told the airboats can travel over the ice or the water, but we stick with the thick ice.  We're back at the apartment about 9PM.  Another remarkable day!
I pack my bags for my flight home tomorrow and slice some "Wisconsin food", cheese and sausage to share with Jim and we finish the remanants of a bottle of Baikal Vodka.  Jim suggests I take the bottle as a souvenir; it sounds like a good idea at the time.

Note:  the last few days posts have not included pictures because I do not have the gear to transfer pictures from the camera.  I'll add them when I can.

Anatoli's Idosyncratic Tour

The clinics I've seen so far are at the top of the heap.  They are modern, efficient and compare to what I've seen in the United States with doctors and technicians who seem to enjoy their jobs and take pride in being up to date and providing excellent care.  However, we hear about other private clinics and municipal clinics where it seems the care may be of lesser quality and takes more of the patient's time.
Today after law school and 2PM lunch, Anatoli the dentist takes us to his dental clinic.  It is in a dingy part of town.  The signage for the clinic and the entryway are dingy.  The rooms inside have the usual dental chairs and other equipment, but it may not be the most modern.  The rooms are (how do I best say it?) dingy.  Anatoli tells us the clinic is open until 9PM six days a week and 30 general dentists and dental specialists spend some time there each week.  He then drives us to his "cosmetic clinic" named Nefertiti and featuring an ancient Egypt theme.  It turns out to be what we might call a day spa.  Anatoli, I think, is trying to make ends meet and have a little extra (he has told us a dentist might make $10,000-$15,000 annually which I could harldly believe, so I twice confirmed the numbers with him.  He tells us that, as in the US, dentists can make more than doctors.  I am doubtful of the complete accuracy of the communication).  The day spa has a tanning bed in one room, a manicure and pedicure area, a massage room, and a hairdressing room where one man is getting his hair cut.  The other rooms are empty of clients.
Over Gala's objections, Anatoli decides to show us the "real Irkutsk".  We go to the animal adoption center in the boondocks.  Dogs are there for adoption and there is a dog hotel for owners who will be gone.  Amazingly, there are three Siberian bears in small cages as well as a Siberian lynsx and wolf.  Many horses are there as well.  We see the airplane factory where many MIG fighters were made.  We do go to the Eastern Orthodox cathedral where Anatoli buys Jim and I each a small piece of the building in a small bag to carry with us for good luck.  Confusingly, he announces that he is an atheist.  We drive to a high point in the city where the panoramic view is less spectacular than it used to be because of broken bottles and new construction.  We drive through the military officers school.  Jim feels he could now handle driving through Irkutsk confidently.
The tour lasts so long Anatoli must drop Gala, Jim, and I off at Svetlana's apartment where we are expected for a real Siberian dinner.  Pascha (Paul) and Svetlana are on the sixth floor where they have what appears to be a one bedroom condominium built recently that they share with their 15 month old son, Tim.  Pascha is the head public prosecutor for one of the Irkutsk districts.  Svetlana is the translator that shared duties with Gala on Jim's previous teaching stint at the Baikal National University of Economics and Law.  Svetlana has read an American theory of early reading and many items around the apartment are labeled with their names in Russian in large print so Tim sees them and may recognize the words.  She will add English labels later.  The label "Mama" has an attractive picture of Svetlana.  The label "Papa" has a newspaper photo of Pascha with accompanying article detailing his team's investigation and capture of a murderer.  The public prosecutor is a combination investigative policeman and prosecuting attorney, unlike the US.
Dinner is served with juice and, kanyeshna (of course), vodka.  There are slices of beef tongue with mustard, fish patties, small pickles, a cabbage salad, and delicious mushrooms.  The neighbor, a young woman, comes to take Tim to her apartment for babysitting during the adult dinner.  Pascha drops Jim and I off at the apartment and then takes Gala home.
Tomorrow is the CircumBaikal railway trip at 7:30AM.

Vodka Wars, Part Deux

A teaser for the title of today's post:  Two years ago Jim participated in a Russian tradition with the head of the Trans-Siberian Railway.  Once the bottle of vodka is opened, it must be finished.  He refers to the episode as "Vodka Wars."

In the morning Gala takes me to the Foreign Language Department, where I've not been previously, but understand Karen Troupis spent every school day there on the trip two years ago.  After some tea with faculty members, the class starts with about 20 second year students.  I've stolen a page from Jim's lesson plans and require each to stand, give a self-introduction and tell something about the US.  The discussion is lively and I'm sure I learn as much as they do.  At the end of the 80 minutes, I give each a Sharky's postcard and a fossilized shark's tooth explaining about the postcards that Mike Pachota is a businessman and looks one everyone as a potential customer.  One of the faculty remarks, accurately, that he must be an optimist!
After a fifteen minute break, the fourth year students come in.  The routine is the same, but the quality of English is more sophisticated.  All the more impressive considering Chinese is these students' "first" language and English "second."  Several students stay after class, including one desperate for information about work in the US for this summer.  I give her a Sharky's postcard, circle the phone number and write my name and Mike Pachota's name.  So Mike, if someone with a Russian accent calls Sharky's . . .
Finally lunch at 2PM as usual and Jim decides he cannot accompany us to the ophthalmology clinic as he is showing Anatomy of a Murder and he wants to see which students are there.  We tell Jim we'll be back in just over an hour.  Gala and I ride across the river to the modern looking clinic and are introduced to the director.  He directs one of the other doctors, "Doctor Natalia", to give us a tour.  They do 55 eye surgeries daily in this clinic in addition to various laser surgeries.  The equipment is modern and sophisticated and the layout is efficient.  People are walking around with eye patches.  After the tour the director invites us into his private office along with Doctor Natalia and the secretary, "Helen", whot tells me she has been to Ocean City, Maryland.  There are plates of cheese, meat, pastries and unopened bottles of liquor.  Tea is serverd, then a large bottle of Teacher's whisky is opened.  It is not vodka, but the tradition is the same.  Doctor Natalia is driving so she is drinking only tea.  Helen prefers Hennessey's so she is not sharing in the whisky.  Gala drinks some, but the director and I have the majority of the bottle.  Two-thirds of the way through the bottle, after the director says he has been to Carnegie Hall to see his brother play the piano, he invites us down the hall through an unmarked door where he takes the cover off a baby grand piano.  Soon we're all singing Beatles' songs and others to his skilled piano playing.  Then back to his office to finish the whisky.  We go back to see Jim tipsy and happy, and 3 hours late.

Hump Day

Wednesday comes and life is more settled after the decidedly bizarre events of last week and the weekend.  I accompany Jim to his law school classes.  Most of the first year students can come only to the morning 80 minute session, so he makes a point to call on them (pick on them?) in the mornings.  Alexander is one tall first year with a sloppy head of black hair and a sweatshirt.  Jim calls on him, he stands, but significantly slouched, and shyly gives his response in Russian.  Jim calls on him again and he speaks more forcefully and stands a bit straighter.  The third time he is standing erect and clearly excited to have his thoughts heard.  His answer this time isn't the best, but so what?  He's hooked on the class.
The uniform for over half the girls in the class is mini-skirt and black knee-high boots with 3-4 inch spike heels.  Others wear business suits.  Only the first year boys and one sullen older boy are not dressed up for the class.  I am starting the third round of my three ties.
Lunch with Gala and Jim in the faculty dining room is uneventful and tasty as usual, finished with tea.  I am using the opportunities to improve my Russian and expand my vocabulary.  Pezhalsta is please and Spasiba is thank you.  Hrosho is fine or well.  Suddenly A Clockwork Orange with Alex and his droogs and their Russian slang comes to my mind.  They were always saying "Horror show" no doubt meaning Hrosho.
Jim and I explore by walking down Gorkiy Street to the Angara River.  A few fisherman are there and some couples walking together.  The temperature may be just above freezing.  We follow the walkway for many blocks crossing under one of the bridges.  Then we're in an industrial section with no more sidewalk.  Of course, the two alpha males each know exactly how to continue despite not a map between us.  We find some interesting wooden buildings juxtaposed with modern construction and cross several muddy areas where the ice and snow are melting.  We continue walking in the direction we both agree is toward the park and the Kolchak monument near the northern end of Lenin Street, but eventually realize we're lost until I decipher the street sign and realize we're on Gorkiy Street again just two blocks from the apartment.  I need my GPS!
Dinner is in the apartment and is salmon baked in a pastry, delicious as usual.
We walk to the 24 hour supermarket for supplies.  Security is openly eyeing me with suspicion in the liquor department as I peruse more varieties of vodka than I've previously seen.  Then a walk back home each carrying several grocery bags. Jim and I each have a shot of chile pepper infused vodka as a treat and then off to read and bed.
Tomorrow I am speaking to a 2nd year class and then a 4th year class so they can have the rare opportunity to hear a native English speaker.  Then a tour of an ophthalmology clinic is planned.

Potpourri

Special Note:  We did not feel Wednesday, April 14th, morning's earthquake in China, epicenter about 1,000 miles south of us.

Tuesday marks one week from when we first started traveling, Jim and I meeting at JFK airport with two succeeding red-eye flights to arrive in Irkutsk, Siberia, Russia. Irkutsk is the capital of the Irkutsk Oblast (region, equivalent to our states in some ways). The city has about 640,000 people and was founded 349 years ago as the administrative outpost for all of Russia to the east which at that time included Alaska.

Starting the Celebration Early

 So Sitka, Alaska, reported to the government in Irkutsk. Irkutsk is at 52° 18' N latitude (about the same as Amsterdam) and 104° 15' E longitude (similar to Singapore).  It is just over 300 miles to Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia and 1,000 miles to Beijing).  The city is bisected by the Angara River, the only one to flow out of Lake Baikal. We are on the east bank within 4 blocks of the river. There are several bridges including a new one finished just this year. Our apartment is on Gorkiy Street with a bust of Gorkiy just across the street in a small park.  The red dot on the map below at the top of the B2 grid square marks our apartment.  Look closely, it is small, but I can see it.

Lenin Street parallels the river and is a quarter block away and about a right angle to Gorkiy Street. Karl Marx Street parallels Gorkiy and these three streets seem to bound the university.

Our apartment has a small foyer between the two doors with the space, I'm sure for some extra insulation. There is a small entrance corridor with the first door on the right being the "throne." The toilet is actually up two steps within the WC, so that probably qualifies as a throne.

Another step inside the entrance is a door on the left leading to my small bedroom with a loveseat-sized couch, an armoire, and a twin sized bed. At the foot of the bed is a step ladder and the vacuum cleaner. Also in my room is the iron and ironing board, which I have actually used!
The door opposite mine is the kitchen.

The shower room is off the kitchen.  The above view is from the shower room doorway.  Below is the sink and shower.  Note the spout over the sink swivels to be over the bathtub.

Jim's bedroom is larger; I conceded that to him immediately as it has a desk and I knew he would have more work to do. My bedroom is about 10' x 12' and the entryway from the outside door is about 15 feet long.

Tuesday morning and afternoon is law school classes in American law again.  After that the students watched A Few Good Men in Russian with expectation of discussion on Wednesday.  Jim and I had expectations of dinner at the apartment, but the dining room staff tempted us with байкальский омуль (Baikal omul) a fish that proved as delicious as its reputation.

Wednesday we will finally have a little more free time after classes and Thursday I will be speaking with students on my own without a translator--they are all supposed to have decent English skills.  There is a large medical school here and I am supposed to go to an ophthalmology clinic.  Svetlana, Jim's other translator from two years ago invited us to her house for dinner Friday night.  She has a cute 15 month old boy and is married to a man in Russian internal security who is "very serious."  Saturday is scheduled a train ride around the south end of Lake Baikal with the dean.

Law School and Jazz

Professor Troupis introducing himself

We’re up early as Jim is fretting about details for the classes. I wash out some of the weekend’s clothes and hang them. Fortunately, the hot water pipes are purposely configured in the shower room (which doubles as the kitchen sink) to hang towels for warming. I call Jane using the apartment phone and a 200 ruble ($7) calling card I’ve purchased. Amazingly, it again works perfectly. She has called me a few times using Skype. Breakfast is Kellogg’s Miel (honey) Pops in 2.5% milk. The supermarket on Karl Marx Street didn’t have Fiber One, my preference. At 9AM we are in the classroom. Jim’s Power Point presentation appears on the screen after a little work by Aleksandr Alexandreivich Romanov, the technology assistant who proudly shows Jim how the “Smart Board” works. The Smart Board is the screen where the presentation appears. It includes special colored markers which electronically show up on the screen and an electronic eraser. However there is no remote for the presentation. We are told it is not sold in Irkutsk. A laser pointer is located at last and at 10:35 the class begins on schedule with about 30 students, predominantly girls. They range from first year to fourth year and ages 18-23 with most 18-20. They will be able to practice law, but not trial law, after 5 years of University. If they decide they want to teach law, they can get a PhD here in law, one of 4 universities in the country to offer it. Jim tells me this is the third-ranked law school in the country after Moscow and St. Petersburg.

The students introducing themselves

Jim engages the students quickly and has them discussing the American constitution and the limits of the federal powers as well as the structure of the state and federal court systems. After 80 minutes there is a 15 minute break during which the first year students leave for their other classes and the rest return for 80 more minutes.

Gala interpreting in class

Aleksandr and Gala help Jim and I get passwords and logons for the university internet system and we have a late lunch. We are able to use computers in one of the technology rooms crowded with students. I find out the Cubs are 2-4 for the season, the president of Poland has died in a Russian plane crash and Justice Stevens is retiring from the Supreme Court. I also find out the temperature in Venice, FL, but I’d rather not know. Gala reminded us we agreed to go to a jazz concert tonight with the American musician, Frank Lacy. He is unknown to me. Dinner is cold leftovers from the refrigerator. We walk out of our apartment on Gorkiy Street a ½ block to Lenin Street paralleling the Angara River which divides the town. The sky is blue and it may be freezing or above for the first time. Twenty minutes later Jim and I have arrived at the Music Theater, a beautiful Soviet era structure with young, excited people gathering near the entrance. Gala appears with the tickets a few minutes before the performance and the concert begins with a local band consisting of a gifted keyboardist, a lead guitarist who appears to be 6’7” tall, a bass guitarist and drummer. Then Frank Lacy appears carrying a flugelhorn and trombone. Later he sings and plays the conga drums as well. A Russian singer comes out doing scat like Ella Fitzgerald.

The Band on Stage

The experience is quite enjoyable. During one of the breaks, the MC talks from the stage to the audience. Several times I hear the words “Frank Lacy.” Gala translates and tells us he is saying how hard Frank Lacy is to get along with and that is why he has no band of his own, but still is a gifted musician. Frank Lacy, who later tells us “My Russian—no good,” smiles through it. Jim and I take a taxi home.

The Steppes of Siberia and Dr. Zhivago

Sunday comes with a more relaxed pace. After last night’s “relaxing” sauna complete with birch twig beatings, I am ready for relaxed.

These are marks on my back three days later from the birch twigs

After breakfast, more ice fishing. I catch three small fish and actually remove the hook from the mouth of one—it doesn’t sound like much, but the fishing I’ve done in the last few decades has been on charter fishing boats and very little of that. The twin driving forces for the day’s schedule have been “We’ve got to be out of the rental house by 2PM” and Jim saying he needs to work on tomorrow’s classes. It is 2PM and we are still fishing. By 3PM we stop and have lunch. Finally, at 4PM the five of us are in the Land Cruiser and packed for Irkutsk. The 2PM deadline had some apparent flexibility. Andrei asks us if we want to drive back to the road by land on rutted paths or bounce along the ice some more. Ice is, of course, chosen. He spins the vehicle 720 degrees on the ice twice in the first two miles when the studded snow tires lose traction. 5PM finds us on the road to Irkutsk through the steppes of Siberia made famous to many Americans in the 1965 movie of Boris Pasternak’s book, Dr. Zhivago. The terrain reminds me of eastern Montana, but Jim says northern Manitoba. You get the idea. Rare signs of humans, barren plains and hills, rocky outcroppings and the occasional Buriyat “temple”. The pace of the journey changes when we stop to leave cigarettes alongside the road as thanks to the gods for the fishing success, then turn down a dirt road to ask a young Buriyat boy if this is the road to the sacred mountain where every four years the Buriyat equivalent of the Olympics are held. He overcomes his shyness and says yes with an apple being his reward. He bites in as soon as it touches his hands. The dirt road is mostly mud and ice, so we angle up the incline a little and travel cross country. We can see the sacred mountain after a few miles, but cannot practically get there so we retrace our route past some abandoned red brick buildings with some windows still intact. It is what’s left of a Soviet era collective farm. It is unimaginable considering a commune here trying to make a living off the harsh land. We pass horses roaming free, sometimes on the road, long-haired, horned cattle also sometimes on the road and reach Irkutsk before 9PM. The police have set up a traffic stop “to check papers” our hosts explain, but our vehicle is not selected. Jim has gotten some work done during the ride. He is a bit anxious how tomorrow’s first classes will play out. We marvel at the events of the weekend and crawl into our dormitory style twin beds for the night.

KC, We're not in Florida Anymore!

Flat KC on Lake Baikal

Ice Fishing!  I'm doing this for Jim out of friendship.  Our ride is due to arrive at 6AM Saturday, April 10th, so we're up at 5:15 packing up for the weekend.  They finally arrive at 7AM and we drive on paved road for three hours toward Lake Baikal, stopping for bait (live crustaceans that look like 1/4 inch long shrimp) and to ask the gods for their blessings.  No kidding!  The Buriyat people, who live around Lake Baikal and look identical to Mongolians traditionally have 99 gods, 55 good, and 44 bad.  So we stop at a wooden open structure along the road, add our coins to the thousands already there, drink some vodka, and tie cloth strips around the wooden supports.

Finally, we turn off the paved road to a dirt road for several kilometers, then turn off the dirt road to no road where the traffic wardens hand a paper to each car telling how to drive on the ice.  We reach the edge of the frozen lake (ice 1.3-1.5 meters thick) and drive the Toyota Land Cruiser for several miles onto the lake.  We are in a portion of the lake called the "small sea", the only shallow area.  The wind is 30 miles per hour and the temperature in the teens.  So what do we do?  We leave the warm vehicle, hand drill 8" holes in the ice and fish!

Before losing any fingers or ears to frostbite, we head to a restaurant on the ice!  It is a Buriyat ger, like a Mongolian yurt.  Inside are a Buriyat mother and her 3 daughters who start cooking our fish and making dumplings.  Andrei talks the mother into letting him drill a fishing hole inside the ger!

Jim ice fishing inside a restaurant

The fish and dumplings were delicious, so what to do next.  One of the gang gathers a few scrap pieces of firewood from outside the restaurant and we drive several miles on the ice to a more remote part of the lake and do skeet shooting with the firewood as skeet.

Jim and I have been up since shortly after 5AM and it is now approaching sunset.  I cannot speak for him, but sleep is all I have on my frozen mind.  Our hosts, however, think nothing finishes the day like a баня (russian sauna) complete with getting beaten all over with birch branches.  The temperature in the sauna is supposed to be 95 degrees Centigrade (203 Fahrenheit, I think).  It feels like my skin is burning, then we go out into the snow, then back into the sauna, then beaten (massaged they call it) with the hot birch branches.  Sleep comes sometime after midnight with more ice fishing promised for the next day.

First Visit to Lake Baikal

Today we go to Listvyanka, a fishing village on Lake Baikal, prominently featured in Clive Cussler’s book Treasure of Khan.  But first a trip to Taltsi, a museum outside Irkutsk on the Angara river where 200-300 year old wooden buildings are preserved.  Some are residences, fully furnished; some churches; some administrative buildings.  The wood holds up well for being so old.

The museum in Listvyanka is on the shores of Lake Baikal and has two 3-D models of the lake demonstrating how amazingly deep it is over most of its area, even a mile deep in spots.  Also there are two nerpa (fresh-water seals) in a display.

Finally, we stopped "for something hot to drink" which turned out to be vodka with snacks.  During the return trip to Irkutsk, Andrei, our ice fishing guide for the weekend, called and said Jim and I needed "resin boots" for the weekend.  So Gala knocked on the door of a just-closed sporting goods store that re-opened for us after her entreaties and we bought our boots.  Think cow-milking boots with liners!

Mayo Clinic of Irkutsk

Thursday we arrived in Irkutsk as scheduled.  We went to the "Diagnostic Clinic" in the afternoon.  In the foyer, a machine dispensed a pair of shoe covers in a transparent egg for 5 rubles (about 15 cents).  Everyone was putting them on, so we did as well.  Security then led us to the elevator to the director's office and we were quickly led in and introduced.  He is a man of about 50.  He spoke a little English, but Gala, our interpreter helped immensely in translating our discussion of what his clinic did.  It is an outpatient clinic of several stories with primarily internists, but also a few surgeons (two gynecologists and two urologists).  People with insurance or private pay patients come here for rapid, complete diagnosis.  The director prides himself on the rapid turnaround of radiology images, lab tests (including pathology slides) and procedures, trying hard to complete at least 90 % of the patients' needs within one day.  In addition to his medical degree he has a management degree and uses sigma 7, "lean technology", and other industrial efficiency techniques.  Despite the application of industrial methods, the clinic appears patient-friendly.  The electonic medical record is designed to have laboratory results and radiology images appear instantly when they are done.  He gave us a tour of much of the clinic.  He apologized for his 0.5 Tesla MRI saying it would be updated soon.  The clinic was begun with a loan from the Japanese government; much of the equipment is from . . . Japan!  They have a small English language website http://en.dc.baikal.ru/   Above the director's desk is a photo of him shaking hands at the clinic with Vladimir Putin.  Below is a picture of me shaking hands with him.

Jim, Gala, and I then went to a sporting goods store to buy me a stocking hat and both of us thermal underwear for the ice fishing trip.  We finished the first day with dinner in the faculty dining room before finally getting to bed.

Irkutsk and the Baikal National University for Economics and Law

Today we arrive at 5:20AM in Irkutsk after a red-eye flight from Moscow.  The plane was not crowded and we could stretch out.  We've met with several officials from the Baikal University today after a few hours sleep and will be visiting a medical clinic in a few minutes and meeting with some doctors here.  Saturday, a dentist is taking us ICE FISHING on Lake Baikal.  It is in the 20's here for a high, much colder than the average.

Travel begins

Not much to report today.  Jane dropped me at Tampa airport and it looks as though the flight to JFK should be ontime.  Then we transfer to the Moscow flight arriving tomorrow morning with a long layover there before the overnight flight to Irkutsk.  Jim is in New York already having obtained his visa at O'Hare and gotten an earlier flight.  My checked bag weighed 45 pounds, so I'll see if registers over the 20 kg limit for Moscow to Irkutsk, but it is checked all the way through to Irkutsk.  My fingernail file with a sharp point (blade about 2" long) was confiscated by TSA.
Da svidanya,
Bill

Butterflies are free!

Well, Jim's Russian visa is supposed to be in Chicago early tomorrow morning, so he has changed his flight to leave from O'Hare to JFK.  He'll leave Madison 2 AM on the bus to get to Chicago.  I leave noon out of Tampa and we should meet up with no time to spare at JFK to go to Moscow.  It will be 8,291 air miles starting tomorrow.  Then, we get to Irkutsk at 5AM Thursday.  I am to meet with the director of a medical clinic that day.  The next day we are scheduled to go fishing.  Temperature in the 20's according to the weather forecast.  One way to get over jet lag!

I have added a picture from Jim and I in our high school yearbook from 1968 on the debate team.
Major thanks to Mike Pachota for providing Sharky's on the Pier gear to distribute in Siberia.

Uncertainty

Jim Troupis and I (Bill Morgan) are preparing to fly to New York, Moscow, and then Irkutsk in the midst of Siberia on Tuesday, April 6th.  But Jim's Russian visa has not yet come through.  We will know tomorrow, April 5th, if it has been approved.  If so, a courier will deliver it to Jim between 3AM and 4AM the day we leave with his first flight at 7:20 AM. I've got to start packing soon!