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  • Day 31

    Irkutsk and Olkhon Island

    September 16, 2019 in Russia ⋅ ⛅ 8 °C

    We left the warmth of our cocoon-like train 100 and emerged into a cold, rainy Irkutsk night. Temporarily discombobulated, we ended up paying about ten times the going rate for a taxi to the hotel. The driver then stayed straight faced enough to ask for a tip as well!

    The following day we explored Irkutsk, which has been called the “Paris of the East”. That’s a bit harsh on the original Paris, to be honest, but the riverside is very nice, with parks, churches and memorials.

    We spent some time looking around the Eternal Flame, a World War 2 memorial. School children stand guard over the flame (hopefully not in winter, but who knows?), diligently goose stepping their way to and from their posts with eager parents and teachers looking on.

    We walked through the old part of town, full of timber houses in various states of painting and repair, and made our way down to the city centre, with numerous Paris-esque buildings and a smattering of other items of interest.

    Then our walk took us back to the waterfront, where we took a snapshot of the statue of Tsar Alexander III, the man responsible for starting the whole Trans Siberian Railway thing in the first place.

    The following day, after spending 28 days either in the middle of a city or on a train or plane, we took a tour to Olkhon Island, largest in Lake Baikal and about 5 hours drive north.

    What a change. The drive, through yet more of Russia’s endless supply of trees, was good in itself, our guide friendly and informative.

    Apparently the usual lunch stop cafe was closed, so we drove on to the next one. When it came into view it turned out to be - an Irish Pub. Mind you it was Irish in beer and decoration only, with nary a beef and Guinness pie in sight. We had dumplings for lunch.

    Khuzhir is the largest settlement on the island, about two thousand people and a slightly lesser number of dogs, with wide, dusty potholed streets on which there are apparently few restrictions on which side to drive.

    The scenery was second to none. We visited Shamanka Rock, late on a bitterly cold afternoon, taking in the vibe of this sacred site in a howling gale and surrounded by fifty other jabbering, selfie-taking tourists.

    The following day we drove to the northern tip of the island in a UAZ minivan, a sturdy, grey vehicle like a high stumpy bread van originally developed for the Soviet Army. It needed to be sturdy, too, as the roads which criss crossed the open hills weren’t the best. It seemed that whenever a track got a bit rough the enterprising drivers would just forge a new one next to it, meaning there were often four or more alternative tracks, all joining up again in fifty metres or so. The driver belted along, bouncing his load of tourists all about the cabin, and decided at the very last second which of the alternative tracks to take.

    At the northern tip of the island we joined a host of other little grey vans and took in the highlights of the area - spectacular cliff views and the foulest, smelliest toilets in Russia - while our driver cooked delicious omul (it’s a local fish) soup for lunch.

    We also enjoyed our rustic accommodation, a yard full of small cabins and a communal dining hall in which meals were taken. Many mysteries remained but we did work out a few things about the food - “cutlet” actually means “rissole”, and all the varieties of cold meat taste exactly the same.

    By the following evening we were back in Irkutsk, still savouring our recent island experience and packing for the train to Mongolia.
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