Bike, Blog, And Beyond

Arriving in Moscow and crossing Siberia with the Trans Siberian Railway

Everything was packed up and I was ready for my night train to Moscow which left from Warsaw at 6 in the evening. Unfortunately I completely overestimated my ability to carry all my luggage to the train station(My bike disassembled in a box on my back, a fully filled backpack, a fully filled huge drybag and another pannier strapped around my shoulder. Altogether around 34 kilos) but luckily Daria, on of the hostel staff members, noticed my struggle immediately and insisted on helping me to carry all my luggage to the train station (a 25 minute walk) and left the reception to a coworker. Can you believe that? I was absolutely astonished by such a selfless act and once more Warsaw’s inhabitants amazed me. I really appreciated this gesture and the only thing she had to say was “I believe everybody should help whenever there is someone struggling”. She’s completely right but such random acts of kindness are not witnessed often in our self centred society these days.

I still didn’t know if I was permitted to take my bike on the train but with my few Polish phrases I caught up on my stay here and a slightly flirtatious charm I convinced the attendant to let me put my box out in the corridor of the carriage even though it blocked the way. Daria who is from Belarus already warned me about the Belorussian border controls and that the border control police tends to be aggressive, impatient and mean. She was right. Once they noticed the box in the corridor they started ripping apart my cardboard box without any notice to check what was in there. I remained quiet and played the submissive tourist so that they eventually calmed down and realised that a bicycle doesn’t pose a threat to national security. Not every passenger was as lucky as me. They emptied all the luggage of the other three guys in my cabin and one even got taken out of the train for further interrogation. Even though I had nothing illegal on me, it felt like we were all about to be arrested and sent to Siberia. Welcome to Soviet Russia. There were no further controls on the actual border to the Motherland.

After I arrived in Moscow the next day in the afternoon I immediately got ripped off by a Taxi driver who instead of taking me to my hostel drove in the opposite direction and wanted double the money to take me back, I ended up paying 40 Dollars to him – an absurd amount of money for a Taxi ride in Moscow. I checked into a cheap hostel which I reserved back when I applied for the Russian Visa (They required a booking confirmation so I took the cheapest one available). The 3 dollars per night were nearly too much to ask for this place. After all – people usually don’t pay to stay in a prison either which was the standard they went by. Apart from the Bunk beds being made out of rusty steal grid with a 1 inch scratchy foam layer on them, the mouldy bathroom being about 1,60 cm high and the shady and drunk Russian people that stayed there and always checked in in the middle of the night, the place was also crawling with bed bugs which came in all shapes and sizes. You could aim your flashlight towards the wall and see about 20 of them coming out of the holes in the plaster. After one night I wanted to get another Hostel but I was informed that I am required to stay with the Hostel I registered on my Visa.

The city itself was really beautiful. Of course I was excited to see the Kremlin, Red Square and Saint Basil’s Cathedral but I was also impressed by its business district and other pompous buildings all around the city and even the metro stations surprised me with their palace like look. Even though you can see a huge western, maybe even American influence in the whole city, I still wouldn’t describe it as tourist friendly. At least not to a budget tourist like me. On the first two days they wouldn’t even let me access the central part of the city (with the Kremlin in it) due to some festivities only allowed to locals. But still, I was able to make my way around and visit all the sights. I also met up with Juan, whom I already got to know in Warsaw, at a hostel he was working at. He is working as a volunteer there and was helping the staff at making the hostel more interesting for foreigners in exchange for food and accommodation – something I might also do at some point of my journey.

I also finally got a ticket for the Trans Siberian Railway to Ulaan Baatar. The prices I saw online, from tourist agencies exceeded 600 € for the basic ticket, but I bought it at the train station assisted by my Russian language book for only 250. Well worth the effort and embarrassment.

I left on the 14th of September at 11 o’clock in the evening. I was smart enough to take a Taxi so I wouldn’t have to fail at carrying all my luggage but at the same time, I was afraid of getting ripped off by yet another driver. Fortunately a Russian guy I met at the hostel helped me through talking to – it felt more like threatening – the driver. Even though I arrived at the train station 3 hours before departure of the train, I ended up boarding it only 5 minutes before it left. I spent around 2.5 hours standing in the cold, listening to P.P. Arnold over and over and occasionally dancing around without noticing it. I was incredibly excited. The big blue locomotive chuffed in and I immediately carried all my things over and started looking for my carriage – I hurried up as there were only 20 minutes til departure and I sensed there would be some problems with my luggage. I was right – they refused to take the big cardboard box onto the train. I was sent from one carriage to another and back only to discuss about the same issue again.

“If a Russian says no, it means no.”

After arguing around for a while and noticing that my flirtatious charm didn’t work on the 150 kg baggage handler, I found out the only thing they wanted to see was money. The 100 Ruble bill I slipped him only gave me his curiosity and a contemptuous laugh. Only after I started pulling out the big bills he started nodding his head and I could even see the hint of a smile on his face.

“Making a Russian smile comes at a price.”

So I ended up paying nearly all of what I had left in cash (most of it was meant for the purchase of food on the ride) to them and they stored my bike in a separate carriage. Finally being on the train I knew I’d be on for the next 6 days felt great. I felt like my journey would finally take a huge step towards an adventure.

I heard so many stories about this train from my parents. How exciting being with all the other travellers was. How they barely had time to look out of the window because they kept meeting new interesting people and listened to their stories. I was expecting some sort of “mobile Hostel” without all the responsibilities like going outside and visiting the city.

Well I’d love to say it was the same for me but that’s not the case. The whole carriage was empty. Even walking through the train I only encountered one group of tourists that didn’t really speak English. I was hoping for some tourists who I could hang out with – not for the entertainment but for the food. I was left with 200 ruble (around 3 €), two packs of instant noodles, 3 Snickers bars and a whole lot of tea. The only thing you’d get for free was boiling water which came in handy. Every day I had to go scavenge for food along the train. Luckily, I didn’t have to go to far – the Mongolian train staff noticed my situation and let me fill up my cup with boiled rice and soy sauce whenever they were eating. I always enjoyed chatting with the ladies dressed in blue through gestures and my Russian language book, who were sitting in their little cabin and laughing at the bearded foreigner. At least someone to talk to. 

So I spent the first four days in boredom having only a Russian and Chinese language book to entertain and educate myself. Very poor preparation but as previously mentioned, I only had the picture of the moving hostel in mind. Looking out the window was exciting at the beginning, but soon turned into a monotonous scenery of trees and hills.

“Siberia: if the cold doesn’t kill you, the boredom will”

I always enjoyed the 10 minutes off the train every time it stopped, especially at those no-name stations knowing that not too many foreigners have roamed around that area before. In Irkutsk, the station closest to lake Baikal, hundreds of people were boarding the train. Suddenly everything was so alive. People were running around the hallways, laughter came out of the cabins and vodka bottles were being passed around. Even though I ended up with a weird and creepy old couple from Wales in my cabin(Anyone remember the cannibal couple from “the book of Eli”? I could swear it was them) it was still nice to be able to talk to someone.

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Somehow I still wasn’t adapting to the local time – Probably due to the lack of movement during the day – and ended up staying up till 4 in the morning listening to the sound of grinding steal every night. The last 24 hours were beautiful though. Driving along lake Baikal and getting closer to Mongolia. This was the image I always had in my mind when thinking about the Trans Siberian. The blue and red locomotive pulling a long line of carriages along the shore of lake Baikal. This was a very special moment to me. Slowly rolling into the land of eternal blue sky.

Robert, whom I cycled through Poland with, commented on our little invasion with a humorous article.

When Simon told me he’d cycle around the world for a whole year I was not particularly surprised. If you end up with people like me as a close friend, there are definitely some points in your life that you should reconsider for a while. That being said, I did not miss my last opportunity for trying to lure him into a trap, asking him to join in for two weeks (so I could annoy him for as long as possible). He’s either a full-blooded masochist or he totally fell for it. We ended up meeting in Dresden, spent a few days there and had a lot of fun. I did not want to go on his nerves from the beginning, so he would not see through it right from the start. Speeding on at an astonishing 100km per day we entered Poland on the second day. Especially funny as it turns out, because when I say “we”, I mean an Austrian and a German dude. Doesn’t ring a bell? Blame your history teacher. The Polish countryside presented itself friendly, full of very nice people of which approximately none and a half are capable of the English language. Playing the polite intruders we soon figured out the basic Polish phrases together with some modest gesticulations necessary to  communicate with the people. “Tak, tak – Zubrowka!”. Few showers and hot weather we had on our way to Warsaw. Needless to say that the nights inside the tent evolved to a “stinking feet” contest. This, the sweaty look and the almost constant laughter about anything we encountered or could think of, guaranteed us the “weird foreign hobos” image, I hoped to make Simon uncomfortable with. I failed and we had a blast. We made it through smelly fields, escaped from angry dogs chasing us on the bike and occasionally came across some more beautiful landscapes. No offence. Reaching Warsaw after 7 days, I was quite surprised that the city of which I had more or less no information apart from “capital of Poland”, was absolutely beautiful. The second thing I was surprised by, was the fact that I still had not reached a point where Simon was completely annoyed by me. Mildly disappointed by myself and eager to finally fulfil my goal of the trip in Warsaw, I literally tried everything I could to get him angry, freaked out or repulsed. After seven days together in Warsaw, meeting a ton of awesome people (natives as well as foreigners) at the hostel and a huge amount of fun and Lech (Polish beer brand) around all of the city, I had to say goodbye to Simon at the central train station.

Sitting now in the train with a somewhat empty feeling about all this, I realised that my plan to go on his nerves has either blatantly failed or he hid it damn well. At this point I’d like to get serious for just one section of this sarcasm-dripping article and say thanks to all the people we met on the way and the Varsovian hospitality in particular – I’ll be back someday. To Simon: I am honoured I could jump on board for a while, it has been two of the funniest weeks I ever had and I want to give you a big THANK YOU for that. I need to return to my own real life now, which partly makes me pretty sad although I know you have to do this on your own. I hope you have an incredible year and may we bike together again someday.

Finally to all of you about to meet and/or travel with him: Try not to accidentally spit into his face while trying to get insects out of your mouth. Somehow he just doesn’t like that.

Second blog entry – Warsaw, Poland 07.09.2016

There is something about this town. Something that made me feel comfortable being stuck there. I’m referring to Warsaw. The place I’m sitting at right now after having said goodbye to Robert at the train station. I can’t define what I’m feeling. On the one hand I’m incredibly excited about leaving Europe behind me and crossing borders to areas yet unknown to me, but knowing that I will not see my best friend for an entire year after two of the most entertaining weeks of my life left me in a bit of a sulk.

However, by now I found out that cycle touring is the right thing for me. The uncertainty that comes with it makes every day more exciting. Waking up in the morning, packing everything together not knowing what your day will be like, or where you are going to sleep that night. How many kilometres am I going to make today? What will the road be like? Will the wind ever stop? Could that smell be any worse? Those kind of questions were keep me going. Except for the two last ones. They are specifically related to Poland.

So let’s rewind…

After two days in Dresden I picked up my friend Robert. He borrowed a bike from a shop in Erlangen where he is currently finishing his degree. He arrived by train and I couldn’t have been happier when I saw him. Even though it was just 12 days, I was already missing meaningful contact with conversations that go beyond the smalltalk. After a rather excessive night out and a great time with Becks and Lisl (two entertaining Bavarian girls) we jumped on our bicycles on August 22. 

The suggested route to Warsaw was around 750 km. I thought we’d take it easy and ride with about 50-60 km a day so we can take half of the day off to relax and explore. Well…on the first day we already did 90 – hands down. Robert brought a bigger tent so we could both fit into it and we put it up in Reichenbach close to Görlitz right next to a shooting range.

Waking up to the soothing sound of gunshots at the Polish border – pure nostalgia. 

The first hour of cycling in Poland was slightly stressful. There were no rural roads around Zgorzelec (the Polish Görlitz) so we had to take the busy ones filled with trucks. It led all the way to Boleslawiec where we treated ourselves to a great Polish meal. I was quite impressed by the cheap prices but surprised. As soon as we left the road leading away from the border the traffic got calmer and we were able to cycle side by side. After another night of camping in a birch wood we decided that it was time for a shower and perhaps even a proper bed. Even though in Germany I managed to have 4 consecutive days without a shower – when you’re cycling with a buddy and have to smell each other every night, any process which involves washing has a higher priority. 

The next day we cracked the 100 km for the first time and ended up in the small town of Góra where we were looking for an overnight accommodation. The then got a glimpse of Polish hospitality and helpfulness for the first time. The people we asked (and who were luckily able to understand us) wouldn’t rest until we had a roof over our heads – they even drove there with us and explained the situation to the hotel owner who, like most of the people in the rural areas, didn’t speak a word of English. We ended up paying 25 Euros for a room in some sort of palace hotel, delicious dinner and a satiable breakfast for the two of us so 12,50 each. You really notice the price differences as soon as you leave the cities.

We soon realised that we were riding quite, if not even too fast. But the Polish countryside didn’t seem to have too much to offer. Flat, smelly and windy – but maybe us Austrians are just too spoiled and our expectations are therefore too high. So that’s why we decided we’d rather arrive in Warsaw earlier than forcing ourselves to boredom. So we spent three more nights camping in the woods or next to highways. The best time of the day always happened once we put up our tent, prepared some food, opened up a can of beer and played a round of cards.

Cycling with Robert was amazing. We never had any discussions or overheated arguments about anything since we both kinda think alike and are all about going with the flow. The downside of us travelling together was that my abdomen constantly hurt because we were laughing way too much. I was so impressed by how far we got everyday. Even though it was windy, the roads were messed up and Polish drivers don’t seem to give a damn about keeping their distance we were keeping an average of 100 km a day. One time we even made 130 – we were really exhausted when we reached 110 but then the dogs chasing after us kept us going. The last day was weird. Even though it was a mere 60 k to go, it felt like hell. Normally we easily cycled that before we took our lunch break.

So then we finally reached Warsaw. A beautiful, modern, clean and crowded city I hardly knew anything about. Skyscrapers in the business district right next to beautiful medieval buildings in the old town created an atmosphere I have not experienced before. The broad streets were empty due to some sort of parade and it felt like the city was opening up its roads only for us to arrive. We checked in at a hostel (Patchwork Family Hostel) and a cold shower felt like heaven.

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We spent our days exploring the town and all its hidden treasures, tasting Polish cuisine, getting to know other travellers and there might have been a bit of partying involved every single evening – the cheap prices, good company and bars yet to discover just presented themselves as an opportunity too good to miss out on. Frankly, time passed by fast once we stopped riding our bikes and the sensation of adventure started fading. I booked a night train to Moscow and luckily found out that I would need a transit Visa for Belarus, so a visit at the embassy was required. I found the time to fix some parts of my bike and prepare it for the long transport to Mongolia.

Przemek, a hostel staff member, invited us to a “saying goodbye to the summer party” where we spent the whole evening with many of his Polish friends at the beach around a bonfire drinking beer and playing guitar – that was my personal favourite. This extended stay in Warsaw felt wrong and right at the same time. I’ve never stayed in a city that long other than my hometown so I constantly felt my feet asking me to move along. But this city triggered something in me and I know Warsaw has not seen the last of me. I recommend everyone to go visit that place. It’s like no other. The stereotype of thievery only proved itself right on the last day when somebody stole my expensive power bank while I was asleep and it was charging next to me – but there was not a single Polish person in the room at that time. There’s assholes everywhere.

So I’m catching a night train to Moscow tomorrow on the 8th of September (19 hours). I still don’t know if I’m able to take my bicycle on that train because they told me that it’s not allowed. So I just took it apart and put it in a box that I shaped out of cardboard. I hope It will work out and that I’ll get a ride to Mongolia as soon as possible. I need to get going otherwise it doesn’t feel like travelling.

I also asked Robert to put together something for my blog so be ready for a funny, sarcastic and emotional text from the best cycling buddy there is!! Find it in the next Blog entry.