Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
Omsk - Scotland
Late Spring 2000
———
Tim
The apartment blocks were coming to life. Windows glittered like golden gems em-
bedded into concrete monoliths. I paced along the banks of the Irtys River, grow-
ing tired with each slap of my boots on the pavement. We had only been in Omsk
for two days but I felt the need to escape. There was just too much to digest. The
streetscape was a constantly spinning kaleidoscope of people and events, traffic
and shop-fronts. I found it easier to cope in the countryside where each village
scene was vivid but not cluttered.
For a while I almost gave up hope; the river appeared to be all but strangled by
a network of bridges, buildings and outdoor cafés. It was with relief that I eyed a
narrow beach below the embankment and out of sight of the traffic. I scurried down
a flight of stairs, took off my shoes and collapsed on the sand.
There I lay listening to my heart calm down. The sand gave way to the contours
of my sore body and I felt the tension begin to drain. I always began these moments
of therapy with the most basic observation that came to mind, feeling that this
would be the foundation for making sense of a complex world.
When I sat up, resting my elbows in the sand, I found myself engrossed by the
river. The same breeze that tugged gently at my hair ruffled the open, murky wa-
ter. The riverbanks were steep and rose ten or fifteen metres to the base of build-
ings perched close to the edge. This steep terrain was the only stronghold of nature;
scraggy bushes and trees clung on for a shot at life. Carried along in the current I
noticed some driftwood and tried to imagine its journey; passing through the city
would be a fleeting moment as it wound its way north for thousands of kilometres,
joining the Ob River, one of the longest in Siberia, and journeying through forest
