The Far Side of the World

Work and my fellowship program will be wrapping up at the end of this month, so I’ve been thinking about the next step. No, not employment – but a massive amount of travel around this vast country.

Next week, I am popping down to Ukraine for a long weekend in Kiev. As a cradle of the original Russian civilization (Kievan Rus’) it’s always been an ambition of mine to go there. A day after returning to Moscow, I jet off to Novorossisk; a port town on the Black Sea. Those shorter jaunts are all arranged and ready to go.

Today, I took the first step on a much longer journey: I bought an Aeroflot ticket to Vladivostok. So on the 12th of April, I get on a plane in Moscow and fly overnight to the edge of the Pacific Ocean. Imagine – a nine hour flight and the plane lands inside the same country. Point that jet in a different direction and it would land at JFK in the same amount of time.

From there, I’ll hop trains, ferries, and buses all the way back to Moscow. I plan on seeing a number of Siberian soviet cities, some historical centers, some non-russian ethnic areas, Mongolia, Lake Baikal, etc. Vladivostok – Khabarovsk – Chita – Ulan Ude – Ulan Baataar (Mongolia) – Irkutsk – Krasnoyarsk – Omsk – Tyumen – Novosibirsk – Ekaterinburg – Nizhni Novgorod – Kazan.

The schedule is very fluid and designed for the maximum amount of flexibility.

I nearly had a traveling companion for the whole trip. Well, ‘companion’ may be overstating the situation. She’s a journalist, and when she heard about the trip from mutual friends, she was intrigued by the idea enough to invite herself along. “It’s such great material for a book,” she reckoned, “following around an idealistic, adventurous foreigner with minimal Russian language skills.”

Her plan was to remain a few steps behind me and see what sort of jams I could get myself into, and then out of, all on my own. From her perspective, I would make the trip possible, as well – it’s probably not a great idea for a woman to make such a solo journey.

In addition to adding a veneer of security, I told her that I would handle all arrangements for tickets and hotels and every conceivable logistical (not financial) element. In return, I would expect a healthy donation to my “Beer and Vodka” fund. She was a bit taken aback. “Hey, you want interesting stories at my expense,” I said, jabbing my finger in her face, “you’re gonna have to grease the wheels a little bit.”

Actually, I was joking. But we did have more serious discussions about editorial control over content and co-author status of the book.

Really, though, it broke down into much more simple elements when two near-strangers are considering traveling together over 9,000 km for weeks on end. “I have to decide whether you’re an axe murderer or not,” she summarized.

I never did hear back after that, so I guess she’s not coming along. That’s fine with me, too - more room for my axe.