Russia; meeting and exceeding

"How many whales do you think fit in Russia?"

"What?"

"Yeah, like how many blue whales do you think equate to the size of Russia?"
"I don't understand your question."
"So, I would like to picture the size of Russia in blue whales."

"Why? That makes no sense."
"Well, Russia is the biggest country in the world, right? And the blue whale is the largest animal in the world, aha? So, I'm just trying to put the two together in a logical way."

"Nothing about that is logical."
"Well, tell me how to do the math, I'll just figure it out."

Coming down from the Peak of Love in the Sayan Mountain Range; one of the many and absolute highlights of what Russia gave me. 

No, I actually wasn't able to figure out how many blue whales make up the whole of Russia. I did come up with the equation and the numbers, but gave up on the task almost as quickly as I usually do with such random ponders. But - if anyone is curious, and figures it out, let me know.

However many whales it may be, there is no question about the vastness of what Russia is. It's almost easy to kinda undermine it, isn't it? "The biggest country in the world", "the biggest animal in the world", the largest, the smallest, the best, the worst - all of it carries very little significance really. It's difficult to picture exactly what the whatever-est of the world actually is - sure, I may say "Ah yeah, sure that's what it is" and try to imagine it as best as I can. But I really don't think that I am mentally capable of truly depicting what that means. Not truly, not without actually seeing it. 

Breaks along the train tracks somewhere in Siberia

And, please do note, that I am not one of those people who places value only on what is visible to the eye. 

But before going to Russia, I knew that I was going to go to the largest country in the world, that I was going to get on the longest railway line in the world and that I was going to visit the largest freshwater lake by volume in the world. And I thought, wow, that's pretty cool - lots of bucket list items checked off I didn't even were on the bucket list to begin with. But once there - from the moment of arrival and throughout every single step, it seemed like none of those titles made it justice. It just seems so plain and simple in wording; "the largest". 

Russia took me by surprise from day one. We began our train journey from the east side of the country in Vladivostok, and I knew very little about the city going in. Judging from what I had seen and lived in Georgia, I had an idea of what to expect from a post Soviet city. The people seemed serious and cold, the language was harsh and - to me - incredibly alluring, the streets were gray, chilly and somewhat bleak. I had to admit several times to my boyfriend that I felt a little bit intimidated by the people and by the whole trip itself early on. 

"They just seem so intense, don't they?"

We hadn't really interacted with a single Russian person by this point, mind you. 

Village of Arshan at the foothills of the Sayan mountains

On day 3 we met three Russian men, big and bulky and scary (I swear, picture it exactly as what you think the stereotype is, that's exactly what it was) at the hostel. One started helping my boyfriend with his Russian and they bonded over ships and learning language through youtube, while the other one started telling racist jokes - "Here, you can tell joke, no problem. You can not tell this joke in America" - and the other one just drank his beer while watching us all interacting. The hostel girl - gorgeous, and impossibly stunning (Again, picture Russian hot lady, and I promise that's exactly what she looked like) was very generous and set us up with another couple setting off on the train that day. On that same day, day 3, we met Olga - who reminded me so much of my mother, that I got low key emotional leaving her on day 7. Olga was our first provodnitsa (both my boyfriend and Olga made sure I got that one right, so I have not forgotten, and I will never forget), who is basically the train attendant in your car - but there will be more of the train and everything about it later. But by day 3, Russia was opening up. And I was obsessed. 

Strolling over lake Baikal

Our roomate who made sure we had bananas for the rest of the train ride

All the preconceived notions, all the cliches and everything that I though it would was very much true, but there was so much more than that.

Sure, it was cold and bleak for most of the ride on the east side. Run down houses, dirt roads, gray skies, you get it - and then there were snowy mountains and forests just a couple of miles away, followed by cities sprawling with building blocks. One day I was freezing under five layers of clothing, and the very next day I debated losing my winter coat (I did - big mistake). One day the neighboring passengers scoffed and grunted "foreigners" as we passed by. On that very same day, our cart buddy called his wife after we asked him if he knew they sold bananas at the following stop, where he was getting off; we followed him off the train and his wife was there, with an umbrella in one hand and a bag of bananas in the other. In Krasnoyarsk we visited the SV Nikolay Boat museum, where we walked out with two soviet books (in Russian) given to us by our tour guides (They really, really liked it that we tried our best to communicate with them in Russian)...
(well... I rock with body language, my boyfriend is better with the Russian)...
(He rocks too with body language) 

SV Nikolay Boat museum, now missing two pieces of their collection. But I'm sure that's okay. 

Sometimes it is incredibly worthwhile meeting up with online strangers

I guess in it's own way, it's just like any other place; at first glance and on the surface, it's harsh, intimidating and bleak. But it doesn't take much to scratch a bit off to get to the good stuff. It takes nothing at all. A man I originally met online after trying to do some research on some of the Siberian mountains, invited us over for a tour in his home city in Krasnoyarsk. We geeked out over rocks and minerals and exchanged a few. All of those that we met on the train, in Ekaterinburg, in Krasnoyarsk, in St. Petesburg, in Vladivostok, in Arshan - and even in Moscow (they're not Russian, but just as cool and welcoming and awesome). I would honestly argue that the Russians that we met gave the Georgians a run for their money in terms of hospitality. And I have a lot of opinions about the Georgian hospitality ... but that's not for today. 

There were just so many instances where I was so taken aback by the people; so many people that made it all so much more than visiting the largest country in the world. I couldn't get enough of it. 

But then there were also the cities. There were the mountains, and the lakes; the churches and the Lenin statues; the pirozhkis and the babooshkas selling them between the train tracks. How do you even begin talking about Russia? I am trying really hard to gather my thoughts, my words, to make them concrete and form some order out of them. But everything is just chaos. It's just overwhelming in the best way possible. 

Lenin pointing the way

Everything was just overwhelming 

I am not done with it. I'm not done with Russia. 

I'm not even done with writing about it yet. Seven months later, and sometimes I feel like I'm still processing it all. 

Purpose

It has been almost 10 months since I last took the time to write in here.
A lot has happened in the last 10 months, and although I didn't really forget about this space, I just didn't prioritize it.

See, I write. I currently have 4 active notebooks where I write constantly - there's my journal, there's my workout journal, there's my budgeting and adulting notebook, and then there's the stories notebook. I also have six extra notebooks ready to be used as soon as I finish one or as soon as I find a new use to one of them. 

I love notebooks. I take them very seriously. I find it easier to express myself wholly in them - I can doodle, I can scribble; in spite of being able to scratch things off, I can be honest. It's a safe space, and I am in complete control. Sort of. 

But I have written about my thoughts on blogging a long time ago - in this blog actually - and this isn't really supposed to be about that. 

Recently, I lost all of my backup photos, music and writings due to a damaged hard drive. I know - I should have had an extra backup, for these things happen way more often than you'd imagine (3 times in the last year for me), and every single time it is devastating. It's the photos that hit me the most. But it also dawned on me how much of the past year I had in word documents saved up in that drive. I had Russia there, I had Ireland there - I had the last couple of months in Korea, I had love letters and poems, I had wishes and dreams. I had everything I have in my notebooks except much more polished. 

I haven't lost those memories - I still have them, sure, but more than mourning for the loss, I fear it. I am afraid of forgetting. I am very afraid of being unable to recall a name or a hike, or something someone said or did, or a feeling. And it's silly, really... because there are reasons why things are left forgotten. But there are things I want to write about. There are plenty of things I've written about, and I am afraid of losing them again. 

So, this is backup. One of many. Because there should always be one of many. 

Let's give this thing another go, and try to make it work out this time.