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We quickly finished our shopping and stepped outside to find that the crowd had
grown larger still. There were big kids now, too. The local teenagers had pulled up,
packed onto the back of two ancient motorbikes. They were trying their best to re-
main aloof while quizzing the crowd of animated littlies as to what was going on.
One of the village men had come down as well. He'd been briefed by his son, and
now thrust his way through the crowd to invite us back for a cup of tea. His name
was Vladimir, and as he walked us to his house we asked him whether Ishimka got
many travellers.
'We did have one once,' he replied, scratching his beard thoughtfully. 'About
seven years ago, I think it was. A Russian, of course. He was walking from Omsk
to Lake Baikal.' Tim and I looked at each other, amazed by such a feat, and by the
fact that so few people had ever passed through. 'Nobody here has ever met a real
westerner before, though,' he added with a grin.
We were ushered through the gate into a clean-swept courtyard. Most of the kids
who tried to swarm in around us were pushed firmly back out again. One who did
get through was Ilya, the boy who'd steered my bike to the shop and who'd firmly
manoeuvred himself into position as my new best friend. He was small for his age
but a bundle of energy. He bounced around all over the place, firing off questions
then changing the topic before I had a hope of answering. Another kid who joined
us was Tolya, Vladimir's son, who'd had the foresight to get his dad before we
could be whisked off elsewhere.
We sat for an hour drinking tea and talking with Vladimir, his wife Tatyana and
a few of their friends. All the while there was an excited buzz coming from out-
side. Through a small window by the table, I could see rows of little fingers curled
over the top of the high front fence, straining to lift heads up and over for anoth-
er glance at the mysterious
Avstralitzi
and their weird travelling machines. Sever-
al other adults arrived, bringing small gifts for our hosts, then pulling them aside
for whispered conversations. I realised that negotiations were taking place as to
who would put us up for the night. I conferred quickly with Tim. We hadn't really
planned on staying, but Ishimka was shaping up to be an amazing experience and
the chance to stay seemed too good an opportunity to miss. Besides, it didn't seem
as though we had much of a say in the matter.
Vladimir helped wheel our bikes into his shed, then reluctantly handed us over
to the crowd of kids waiting impatiently outside the gate. They were disappointed
to see us reappear without our bikes, but we assured them that we'd bring them
out again in the morning. Tim took his camera and was hauled off somewhere by
