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and the driver's black-sleeved arm extended, proffering a fluttering banknote. Tim
started to protest but the driver cut him off. 'Take it,' he said, smiling.
Tim did, then waved goodbye as the polished black status symbol disappeared
down the road. Wordlessly we stared at the 100 rouble note - about $30 in Australia
- and looked at each other incredulously.
Of all the earnest warnings we'd received before embarking on the journey, the
most ominous had been the danger of a run-in with the Mafia. 'You are foreigners,'
we had been warned. 'Compared to the locals you are rich. In Russia anyone with
money is a target. At the very, very best you will both be robbed and left for dead
as soon as you set foot in the country, but that is only if you are lucky!'
In reality, it had taken nine months before the Brotherhood had even noticed us.
Then, far from the hideous atrocities that had been forecast, we had actually been
given money!
We reached the Azerbaijani section of town later that afternoon. The restaurant
to which we'd been invited stood out while the other scattered buildings and cara-
vans - tea houses and shashlik stalls - all looked a little rundown.
We parked our bikes against a wall and sauntered to the restaurant, chuffed
at the thought of a free meal. The staff hadn't been told that we were coming,
however, and looked dubious when we explained our story. They invited us to sit
down and eat anyway, but on our tight budget, we weren't prepared to order any-
thing that we might have to pay for. Eventually, a man who knew about us came
along and we gratefully ate an excellent, spicy meal.
We made friends with one of the waiters while we were eating: I asked if he
knew about the existence of sustainable or selective harvesting practices, but be-
fore he could answer, a man in a suit turned to face us. 'I'm a forestry man.' He
greeted us with a limp handshake. 'And I can tell you that we certainly do follow
selective logging guidelines.'
I looked naively into his eyes and believed him. He held my gaze for a moment
then burst into peals of laughter. 'Oh, yes!' he shouted. 'We practice selective log-
ging.' He waved his hand at the wall beside him in a gesture that I assumed was
meant to indicate a vast expanse of forest. 'Oh, yes! We …' He wheezed and
laughed some more. 'We select a tract of forest and we log it!'
———
Later that evening, I was pacing up and down a stretch of railway line, thinking
hard. Over the past few days, we'd come almost 200 kilometres from Taishet. So
