Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
Between Baikal and Ulan Ude lay another mountain range, yet I felt too tired to be
excited by it. I wanted to get the kilometres over and done with! I lost Chris on one
occasion - rode past his flag without seeing it - and became enraged. Maybe it was
just coming down after such an enthralling time, or a sign that I really did need a
break.
When we finally rolled out of the shadow of the mountains and into a valley
choked with apartment blocks and smoke stacks, I was overcome with relief. I
pulled up next to Chris and sat silently. We could just make out a sign in the dis-
tance: 'Welcome to Ulan Ude'.
———
Ulan Ude was different to any other Russian city we had visited. The roads were
narrow and bustled with chaotic traffic. A large percentage of the people were
Buryatians with distinctly Mongol faces. The bus stops had oriental spires rising
from the roofs and the city centre was particularly untidy.
In the central square the giant head of Lenin towered ten metres above all else,
in danger of toppling and rolling. We spent hours in an unsuccessful bid to find a
Visa cash advance facility. As time passed we became desperate for a safe place to
leave our bicycles.
Our plan was to take the train to Novosibirsk and then bus and train it to the
Altai. Chris went to enquire about tickets while I rested outside the train station.
As if from nowhere a small Buryatian man appeared beside me. He wore an Amer-
ican baseball cap that threatened to swallow his small head whole. In fact, the ri-
gid glasses on his nose were the only things that kept the cap from falling over his
eyes. He wore sports pants and a grotty coat, and in one hand carried a shopping
bag with a loaf of bread and a folder.
He introduced himself as Misha and was soon asking the inevitable questions.
I was going through the tired rigmarole of explaining the journey when he said,
'Well, it would be better to leave your bicycles with someone rather than in a car-
park. You are welcome to come to my place.'
It was later, in his
banya
, that I realised my mistake. The three of us had been
sitting on the wooden seat when Chris walked out to cool off. Our new friend sud-
denly shuffled close to me and whispered something incomprehensible.
'Sorry, I don't understand,' I replied.
He said it again, but I was equally baffled. Suddenly he moved his hand to my
leg and insinuated sexual relations. Now I understood.
