Merry Christmas, everyone! It’s December 25th here, which is just another day in Russia. Unlike previous years, I don’t really have any classes today (just one individual lesson), as I gave my last exam on Wednesday and just have a few more papers to grade. Russian Orthodox Christmas, which isn’t too big in Yakutsk, is celebrated on January 7, and the big holiday is New Year.
The view on the frozen lake where I walk
Winter was late in coming this year, but at least December seems to be a true Yakutsk winter; this time of year I often find myself humming that line from “Let it Snow” as I exit the building. The “winter is coming” dread usually starts to creep in as August winds down and the leaves are turning yellow and the air gets crisp; there is often the first dusting of snow in September. But this year September was unusually warm, and for much of the month the air was still filled with smoke from forest fires in the surrounding regions. Early October was barely even chilly, and the first snowfall came in the middle of that month. The river crossing (the ice road) was pushed back 2 or 3 weeks later than usual, and although I read reports of impatient drivers being arrested I also saw several cars coming from that direction on my weekend hikes. I read an article about how in the Arctic region the number of deaths due to thin ice is increasing as global warming changes the usual timetable that people have grown accustomed to. Although I regularly go for walks on the small frozen lakes near my home this time of year, I do kind of have a fear of falling through. A little while ago I looked down and noticed a big crack and got nervous; Gavriil assured me that the ice was quite thick and just probably shifting. He said if you see a crack it’s fine, but if you hear it, that’s a big problem.. A lot of people here say that global warming is good for Russia, and especially Yakutia, and there may be some truth to that, as this article discusses. However, I think that there will be a lot of unforeseen consequences and disruptions for at least the next several decades before the milder climate can really be enjoyed.
When we first moved into our apartment, the main selling points were its proximity to the university, and the cheap rent. Had I known that we would eventually spend several months holed up there during a pandemic, I might have held out for something a little fancier, but at least we have a spare room that I can use as an office, and nice views of a lake. However, when I returned from my taiga adventure in July, relieved to be back in civilization, I went to put the kettle on and found that the gas wasn’t working. I went downstairs to see if there was any information, and to my dismay saw a flyer saying that because of a renovation project in the building the gas would be off until September 9. I couldn’t believe that I wouldn’t be able to use my stove or oven for several weeks – I mean why would they go ahead with such a project during a pandemic when we are stuck at home? – but went and bought an electric hot plate and adjusted. Fast forward five months – still no gas, and although we occasionally see workers coming through there isn’t exactly an encouraging amount of activity. A couple months ago we saw workers in the stairwell cutting and removing the new pipes that had recently been installed – I gather that the original contractors botched the job but kept the money. The gas doesn’t affect the heating or hot water, but it means no stove or oven. The hot plate shorted out after a couple months, so now we do our cooking on a camping stove set up on the counter or in the instant pot which takes up most of our small kitchen table..and I am so thoroughly fed up (=despondent) with the situation, especially since I work from home and so can’t have lunch at the university like before. We get take-out sometimes – most places here deliver, but it takes a while and doesn’t always arrive hot. Luckily restaurants here are open now, so we do go out about once a week. It seems fairly safe, as most places here are spacious with big booths or tables so you aren’t close to other customers, and of course the servers wear masks. The inspectors who came last month said they expect the gas to be on by “the end of the year”, but I’m not holding my breath. So, to make a long story short, no plans to prepare a fancy Christmas dinner, no fun holiday baking; we will probably go out to celebrate.
Sign announcing the gas project, to end Sept. 9
Sign saying the gas will be off until the work is finished..
Traveling home for the summer as originally planned turned out to be too complicated due to the pandemic, leaving me with two choices: stay alone in my stuffy old Soviet apartment in Yakutsk, or go with Gavriil to his family’s land to help with the summer haymaking. It sounds like an easy decision, but I struggled with it a little. I knew that there would be lots of mosquitoes, the accommodations would be very basic, there’s no phone service and it’s not easy to get there or away. My local friends agreed that it probably would be terrible, but that I should go – it’s a “cultural thing”, and his relatives would appreciate it. Gavriil promised that if I hated it he would get me home, so I went, and ended up staying for two weeks; it was intense, but also sort of like being in a movie (specifically, the Sakha edition of Herzog’s “Happy People“).
Winter cabin built by Gavriil’s grandfather in the 1970’s
I had never been to this place before, which is in the same region as the village where Gavriil grew up, but in the forest about 20-30 kilometers from the nearest settlement. From the main road, you can either get to the cabins by hiking in (about 2 hours), or a harrowing ride in a UAZ (a Russian “jeep”). Luckily for us, his uncle was going there and so we got a ride.
Gavriil has been coming here since his childhood, and I think it is his favorite place to be. In addition to going every summer to make hay, he spends most of May there (duck hunting), and often goes in autumn (helps “take care of” the horses) and sometimes winter (more hunting). Another reason I had hesitated to go was that it sounded like a very manly world, and I wasn’t sure if I would even be welcome. Those fears were put to rest the first day, when Nikolai, who lives there, raised a glass to make a toast, saying “I’ve been here for five years and not one woman has come here. Finally, a woman has come to visit! And not just any woman, but a foreigner!” Plus, I had made a good impression in advance with the bottle of Maker’s Mark I had sent for him with Gavriil on a previous trip, which Nikolai deemed “a drink for the taiga”.
Gavriil, his uncle Anatoly, and Nikolai
Gavriil refers to Nikolai as his uncle; although there is some family connection (a cousin’s wife’s uncle?), they aren’t actually related. The only permanent human resident of this place, Nikolai is in charge of looking after the horses. Divorced with a grown son, he seems very content living without other people around, in the company of his three dogs and surrounded by nature. He’s not completely cut off from the world, however- he has a radio and a small TV powered by solar panels and a satellite dish. It turned out that Gavriil’s relatives who generally help out this time of year had other obligations, so it was just us and Nikolai for the most part. There are two cabins at the site; the older one where we slept has no electricity and is mainly used for storage; we had our meals and watched TV with Nikolai in his cabin. Both are heated by wood-burning stoves, and water is brought in buckets from a nearby stream.
Two of the dogs were always chained up, but the puppy “Dogor” (‘friend’ in Sakha) was our constant companion.
Haymaking used to be a big family affair here, back in the days when it was all done by hand. Now fewer people are willing or able to participate, and anyway most people use tractors. Nikolai said that until two years ago, he cut the hay by hand with a scythe; then he got a hand-held motorized cutter, and this year they brought him a tractor for the bigger fields. The hay supplements the diet of the dozen or so Sakha horses in the herd, which are able to find grass to eat under the snow even in winter, but depending on weather conditions there may not be enough. Some of the hay is also taken to the closest village, where the uncle with the tractor has cows. This area was all forest originally; the fields near the cabin were cleared at least 100 years ago.
Growing up in the suburbs in California, I had only a vague idea of where hay actually came from, and until this summer I don’t think I’ve ever had the occasion to use a pitchfork, let alone make a haystack. So it was interesting to learn the process, which I’m sure is very mundane to anyone who has spent time on farms: the tall grass is cut and left to dry for a day or so. It is then gathered into piles using the tractor combine or manually with the rakes, and then finally made into haystacks. I’m not sure how valuable my efforts were, as Gavriil usually made six or more haystacks in the time it took me to make one. But I will say it was great exercise, much more effective than going to the gym. On most days the guys had three shifts: after breakfast until around 1:00, then after lunch until a break for tea at 5 or 6, then again until 8 or 9 p.m. I skipped the last shift and cooked dinner instead, which I’m sure was a more useful contribution.
A funny story: Nikolai was telling me that when Gavriil’s uncle Kesha brought the tractor, he was very surprised and impressed to see me working. But at first I briefly misunderstood, as he was trying to use his English, and thought he was saying that the pitchfork/rake was called “Mister Egorov”. This was quickly cleared up – the uncle is Mr. Egorov – but from then on to me the tool was Mr. Egorov. (“Can we leave Mr. Egorov in the field?”)
The phrase “make hay while the sun shines” is definitely fitting here, since it never really gets dark during the summer. It would be easy to lose track of the days, but Nikolai doesn’t, and on July 12th he announced that the following day, a Monday, we would rest, because according to Sakha tradition July 13 is the day that evil spirits called “Abaahy” have a meeting, and they check to see who is working in the fields, and those people are put on a list which determines who is to die next. It turned out there was a thunderstorm that day, which I guess might reinforce that belief.
Nikolai’s calendar, with an explanation about the Abaahy. In Sakha, the name of the month of July is от ыйа, which means “grass month”, in other words, haymaking month.
The horses, which are raised mainly for meat here, are pretty much free to roam around as they please, and although there are some fences it seems like there is nothing really keeping them from leaving completely, except that they know there is food there. Sakha people generally eat the meat of the foals that are under a year old; the number of births and deaths in the herd each year plus other factors determine how many are slaughtered in the fall. It may be only one or it may be more. I know, it’s sad to kill baby horses, but at least they are raised naturally and have a very nice life until that day comes..
Horses with white eyes like this one used to be preferred by shamans, I was told.
After every summer trip in Yakutia, I say the same thing: this place would be paradise if it weren’t for the mosquitoes. Unfortunately, they are an almost constant presence. There are at least two types: the usual grey/black ones, and the huge yellow ones that are prevalent in the forest. Whenever I went for a walk or to the fields, no matter how hot it was I was completely covered up: usually leggings and jeans or tracksuit, t-shirt and jacket, thick socks and hiking boots, and crucially, hat and face net. It helped to put some repellent cream on my hands if they would be exposed (and also to strategically apply it before going to the toilet). Spraying your clothing does make a difference, but no matter what they are still around.
When it got chilly or windy enough to drive the mosquitoes away, then the giant biting flies would take over. One night it was cold enough that even they disappeared, and it was beautifully quiet. Then at some point during the night I became aware of a different buzzing, like a bee or wasp. When I opened my eyes I saw a wasp crawl out and then back in through a gap by the window (which isn’t glass, but a thin plastic material). Gavriil trapped it and put it outside, and the next day fixed the gap. Later we saw it, or another one, back in the room near my bed. Gavriil moved aside some things that were hanging on a peg on the wall, and discovered a small wasp’s nest, just above where my head had been when I was sleeping. (I was too freaked out to get a picture before he got rid of it.) Besides the aforementioned insects, around the cabins there were also big non-biting flies that are camouflaged as bees, regular houseflies, small biting flies, big ants that seemed harmless, various spiders, and some lovely butterflies and dragonflies, to name a few.
We brought a lot of food with us when we came, and one of the uncles usually comes every week or 10 days to bring provisions. However, there is also a good variety of food that can be obtained from the land. In addition to the horse meat, there is wild game, although there isn’t really any hunting in summer as that is when the animals are raising their young. May is the season for duck and geese as well as grouse and other birds; deer are hunted in autumn, and in winter they trap rabbits and partridges. (There is also a bear that is spotted from time to time, but left alone.) Some days Gavriil and I hiked to the small lake where he camps out during duck season, and he set some traps for these small fish that he then fried. (They were not my favorite.) Most of the berries are ripe in late summer/autumn, but there were some wild blueberries that we picked. We also picked and dried the leaves of the abundant purple flowers (fireweed) that are used to make a popular mild herbal tea in Russia (the plant and tea are called иван-чай in Russian – “Ivan tea”).
Stumbled across this guy as we were walking. It was frozen, hiding, and then ran away when it heard my camera click. Gavriil was disappointed that I had scared it away, saying that he should have killed it to feed to the dogs. I was not at all sorry.
As you may have seen in the news, the forest fires in Siberia have been especially bad the past couple of years. There are always natural fires, but the length of the season and the area burning have dramatically increased. Yakutia is a vast territory, and there are not nearly enough resources to fight all the fires here. The ones in more remote areas are left to burn, while firefighters from here and other parts of Russia try to control the ones that are closer to populated areas. The fires didn’t seem to be getting a lot of attention in the news, but I noticed there were usually two banners at the bottom of the screen, one showing new COVID-19 cases, and the other showing the number of fires in Yakutia. The latter was increasing dramatically during our stay – I remember seeing 87, then 96, then 181. We knew that there were fires in the region, and indeed the second week the air was hazy with smoke (as it was in Yakutsk too). Because these fires are relatively close to villages there were crews fighting them, and they were spreading slowly so there was no immediate danger where we were. However, that may change in August. This area has burned before, 15 years ago, which is why as you see in the picture most of the tall pine trees are dead and there are a lot of smaller trees coming in. That may help slow down the spread of a fire, but it will mainly depend on the weather conditions. The last time crews were at least able to save the area where the cabins are, but I worry about this year and the ones to come..
Stopping by the Russian department’s booth at the NEFU International Festival last November
Now that I’ve been in Yakutsk for five years, people assume I must be pretty fluent in Russian. And why wouldn’t they? I studied linguistics, after all, and I like learning languages. After just three years in Hungary, I had a good command of Hungarian, which supposedly is a super hard language. However, the sad truth is that my Russian has been stuck at pre-intermediate (around B1, for those familiar with the CEFR levels) for a long time now. I understand it well, and I’m fine doing day-to-day tasks, such as shopping or ordering food or a taxi, but it is still difficult to socialize in Russian without an English speaker to help out when things get awkward.
Things started out well. My language school contract included two free 45-minute Russian lessons per week, and while many of the foreign teachers dropped out, either because they were dissatisfied with the Russian teaching style or they were just too busy, I made a point of sticking with it. After all, “finally learning Russian” was one of the reasons I chose to work here, and not in one of the more lucrative countries for EFL teachers. As a false beginner, having studied some Russian back in 2001, I made good progress at first. I liked the teacher, even if the lessons were a bit heavy on the grammar and light on practical everyday Russian. But lessons were often cancelled, and when the teacher went away for the summer, the search for a replacement set in motion a comical revolving door of Russian teachers. A couple of them were really good, while others had no idea what they were doing and quickly disappeared ; I think I had nine in all, which meant there was no continuity. There were several first lessons that went like this: Teacher (in Russian): Tell me a bit about yourself. Me: Меня зовут Донна. Я американка. (manages a few correct sentences in Russian, but then inevitably makes some error.) Teacher (all in Russian): A-ha. (corrects error, then starts drawing a table on the board). You see, in Russian there are 6 cases. Do you know them? Именительный, родительный, дательный, … (spends the rest of the lesson drilling the six case forms of various nouns, because s/he hasn’t prepared anything else).
For those who haven’t learned Russian (or Latin), the cases are inflections, or changes to the endings, on nouns depending on their role in the sentence (subject, object, etc). English had a similar case system centuries ago; it survives mainly in the pronouns (I, me, my, mine) and the genitive (possessive) ‘s. The case ending depends on the gender of the noun – Russian has three genders, and whether it is singular or plural, so there are a lot of forms to memorize, plus a lot of exceptions. Russian has only three verb tenses, but there are other little traps that you can get stuck in for a while such as the many, many Russian verb forms you need to express the English verb “go”. Although it’s an Indo-European language, and has a lot of vocabulary familiar to English speakers (words from French and Latin, for example), it deserves its reputation as a super hard language to learn. (Many people think that the Cyrillic alphabet must be a challenge, but that is actually very easy and fun to learn.)
My copy is from the 90’s and so has lots of outdated references and crazy-looking prices..
Along with the lessons, I have made some efforts to study on my own. I have done the first few chapters of my good old “Teach Yourself Russian” book a few times now, but have never made it more than halfway through. Other self-study books remain in pristine condition on my shelf. In 2015 I read Fluent Forever by Gabriel Wyner, a polyglot who has worked out a method for learning languages that mostly involves using flashcards with a Spaced Repetition System; instead of translations he uses images and prompts in the target language. I was convinced enough to give it a try. I used his pronunciation trainer, which I found useful for both learning Russian sounds and for learning how to use the free Anki software. I’ve even incorporated some of the ideas from his method into my own teaching. However, when it came to making my own Russian vocabulary and grammar flashcards – I’ve just never found the big chunks of time needed to do that. (Making your own flashcards, either paper or electronic, is part of the method; Wyner says that the process of doing so helps to form new associations and thus neural connections, which strengthens your memory of the item.)
When I switched to working at the university I hoped to take classes there, but they are geared towards full-time international students who study Russian for several hours a day. I signed up for individual lessons, but ended up with the usual scheduling problems and cancelled lessons. For a while I kind of gave up and contented myself with attending Sakha lessons, then last spring I was able to join a small group class with some students from China, which was nice while it lasted. I may resort to taking lessons via Skype with a teacher from another city, as a couple of my former colleagues did. Of course there are lots of online resources – a couple of MOOCs, podcasts, websites, etc. (a good source if you’re looking for Russian resources is the website/blog Street Russian), but what I really need is speaking practice.
These past couple of years the one thing I’ve been more or less consistent about is using apps. I tried Babbel, but the level was too low (there’s plenty out there for beginners in Russian, but less for more advanced learners). I’ve also tried Mondly and Busuu, which have some good features and help with vocabulary. The one I’ve used most is Duolingo (the internet version, which doesn’t have ads or the limitations of the mobile version). It has really helped with things like spelling and grammar; the repetition can get annoying but it does effectively drill that stuff into your head (I finally get ‘this’ это/этот/эта!). However, it should not be the primary method of learning a language, as it is based on translating silly random sentences. In other words, it is not communicative at all; in fact, it is more like the old-school grammar translation method pretending to be modern with its video game-like bells, points, and perky little owl mascot. It’s an awesome free resource, and in fact it has given me many ideas for lessons and teaching activities, but it is kind of sad that I’m living in Russia and this is my main way of learning. (At the same time it is encouraging, as a teacher, to realize that we are nowhere close to being replaced by any of these apps.)
You might be wondering, what about immersion? I should just go out and talk to people, right? Maybe I should, but that’s easier said than done. Russians in general aren’t big on striking up conversations with strangers, Sakha people tend to be even more reserved, and it isn’t really my style either. There are, of course, occasions to practice, but it isn’t built into my daily routine. But wait a minute, you might ask, what about Gavriil?! Yes, we did speak both Russian and English at first, but unfortunately have gotten into the habit of speaking English, which he prefers, and it can be hard to switch. Last Saturday we spoke only Russian, which was fun and a nice change. When we see his relatives and friends, they speak Russian to me, but the general conversation is all in Sakha, which I can sometimes get the gist of (mostly from the borrowed Russian words) but I’m still a beginner. The fact that Yakutia has two main languages and cultures is what makes it super interesting, but it does also make it less of an ideal place for learning Russian.
I recently was out to dinner with a group of people where I was the only foreigner and suggested we speak Russian. Somebody asked me why I like/love Russian, and I stopped to think, and realized that part of the problem is that I don’t, really. My approach to it has become adversarial; it is an obstacle to overcome. In contrast, I always loved Hungarian; it was difficult but also beautifully logical and fun, and Hungarians loved hearing it spoken by foreigners. Spanish was relatively easy to learn and there was never any question about its usefulness. With both of those languages I was able to improve mainly by practicing and using the language. But with Russian, I’m too afraid of making mistakes or causing confusion, so I tend not to start conversations or initiate new topics; I stick to answering questions when asked. Part of it is the language itself – there’s a lot of grammar, and using the wrong form can hinder communication. I think it’s also that people aren’t used to talking to foreigners; and the teaching style – teachers rarely let an error go by even when my meaning was clear, and forget about practicing with most of my English teacher friends. I need to find a way to make it fun again, to remember what I do (did) love about it and reconnect with my reasons for wanting to learn it.
Beaded portrait of Pushkin on a theatrical costume, workshop of Augustina Fillipova
In the past, I remember being sort of judgemental towards Americans or other native English speakers, in other words, “expats” living in a foreign country by choice rather than necessity, who “didn’t bother” to learn the language. Now, I completely understand how easily that can happen. Of course, I still think it is obnoxious to go into a restaurant or someplace and loudly demand to be catered to in English – it is important to at least learn the basics if you are staying for more than just a vacation. But so many people speak English, and are happy to do so; I do really appreciate having that option when I’m super busy at work or tired from teaching all day and don’t have the energy to think in another language. However, I’ll keep trying; not speaking Russian well does put a limit on what I can accomplish professionally and personally, plus I’m not ready to give up the old fantasy of reading Tolstoy and Dostoevsky in the original..
Menu from a “Siberian” restaurant in Turin, Italy. I didn’t actually eat there..
After a summer full of travel (Altai, Italy, California), I’m back in Yakutsk, back to work and still sorting out my schedule for the new semester. Since I don’t have much time to write, I’ll post a few interesting articles that I’ve come across related to Yakutsk or Yakutia:
Here’s one about Sardana Avksentieva, elected last year as mayor of Yakutsk. So far, people seem to like her. Actually, just now when I searched New York Times to find the link for this article, I came across a link from 1954 that also mentions a female mayor (below; full article available to NYT subscribers), so I guess she’s not actually the first.
The dry Lena River bank near Yakutsk. Two months ago I was rowing above this exact spot, in water that was almost 2 meters deep.
This summer has been unusually hot in Siberia (like most places), and you may have heard the news about the huge forest fires in the Arctic. Another effect is the drying up of parts of the Lena River, which I saw for myself last week:
It’s mushroom season! We picked a couple bags full of edible ones, but left this beauty in the woods. Hard to tell from the photo, but the cap is bigger than my hand.
Whenever I asked for recommendations for new places to visit in Russia, the most frequent answer was “Altai”. The mountainous Altai Republic, located in Western Siberia close to the southern border with Mongolia and Kazakhstan, is known for its pristine lakes and rivers and for mystical Mount Belukha, Siberia’s highest peak. I first looked into going last year, and contacted Altair-tour, an agency recommended by Lonely Planet Russia. It didn’t work out to go then, but I decided that I really wanted to try one of their trekking trips someday. This year their tour schedule ended up working nicely with my vacation dates, so I convinced Gavriil to go with me and we ordered my border permit (through the agency; takes about a month and all foreigners need one) and booked the 11-day tour “Belukha is the Heart of Asia“.
View of snowy Mount Belukha from one of our campsites
When choosing our tour, I made it clear that I wanted no special skills required beyond a reasonable level of fitness, and no climbing (no use of ropes or equipment). Although I do a fair amount of hiking, it is usually only for a day and never with a big rucksack, so I was nervous about how I would manage that. I have a fear of heights, but was reassured by the agent who said there was “no danger of falling” and by the itinerary which indicated that we would be traveling with pack horses; I hoped that meant we wouldn’t be traversing tiny ledges like the one in Kamchatka that almost did me in. Our itinerary would not take us up Mount Belukha (a difficult and dangerous climb), but to Belukha Nature Park, where we would have views of the mountain.
Two of our pack horses; for the first half of the trip they carried our food and tents.
Getting There
After flying from Yakutsk to Novosibirsk (4 hours), we took a bus to the center of the city and found the Altair-tour office. From there, an overnight bus departed at 8:00 p.m. going to their campground near the town of Ust-Koksa. Our group consisted of nine people – six men and three women, all except me from Russia, plus our guide/instructor, Leonid. Upon our arrival, Leonid distributed and gave some instructions regarding our equipment; the tour price includes use of a tent, sleeping bags, and backpack, and you can rent walking sticks. After setting up our tent, we had lunch together with our group, then went into the town for last minute supplies. That evening we enjoyed a concert by a local musician performing traditional Altai music (throat singing, khomus and other instruments). Like Sakha, the Altai language is Turkic, and although Gavriil didn’t understand it when spoken there were many words that were similar.
Alexey Chichakov performing traditional Altai music at the campsite
The next morning we were picked up by a van, which took us to a place where we transferred a GAZ-66 military vehicle, which then drove us into Belukha Nature Park. After some quick instructions from Leonid (he spoke Russian to to the group, but also spoke excellent English and made sure I understood everything), we put on our packs and hit the trail.
Loading up the truck
The Trail
Gavriil (with my walking sticks)
The active part of the trip was eight days, and we were usually on the trail from before 9 a.m. until late afternoon, walking between 8 and 20 km per day. I knew that the mountainous terrain would be more challenging than the hills around Yakutsk, but it was still harder than I expected. I had pictured fairly standard hiking trails with difficult or scary bits every so often. In fact, most days it seemed to be the opposite! Lots of steep, stony ridges, climbing over rocks, and navigating around slippery deep mud and big roots. At first, I dreaded the bridges: logs perched over a big stream or waterfall, or rickety wooden ones, but by the end I was used to them. I was so glad I had opted to rent the walking sticks; they really help to keep your balance while navigating tricky areas and support the knees on steep descents. Although it was difficult, as promised there were no gaps or sheer drops.
The type of trail I expected more of..It was more often like this, Or even like this..Our guide testing a rickety bridge. I was not the only nervous one crossing here..
Maybe I was mistaken in thinking I was ready for this kind of trip, or just unlucky to end up with a group of super fit people, but I was unprepared for the fast pace. On the easier parts I could keep up, but then I would hesitate to find my footing on some rocky slope, and the others would disappear ahead of me. I usually went last, except for Gavriil, who stayed back to support me – I don’t know if I would have made it without him. Although there was never any pressure from anyone to go faster, if I fell behind I felt stressed, and Gavriil and I sometimes felt like we couldn’t really enjoy the beautiful scenery we were rushing through. Thankfully there were plenty of rest breaks and a long lunch break, and at the end of the hike I always felt fine.
Our guide and other hikers at one of our rest stops
The Scenery
The previous section might have given the impression that it was an awful trip, but experiencing the true splendor of nature often requires some risk or discomfort, and throughout this tour we were rewarded with the spectacular views and pristine landscapes that we had come for. We walked through buzzing meadows with chest-high wildflowers, narrow valleys with bright aquamarine rivers, cool green forests, and rocky summits with multicolored mountains. Besides the many different colored rivers and lakes, there were countless waterfalls and streams of different sizes, and you could drink the delicious icy clear water straight out of any of them. The weather in the mountains is quite unpredictable; we were lucky in that it usually rained only after we had set up camp, and there were some clear days. However, it was quite foggy the day we went over the summit; that was one of my favorite days but if it had been clear it would have been quite spectacular.
Camping and Eating
Besides the first campsite at Ust-Koksa we stayed in five different spots, always by a lake or river. Two of those places had no facilities; the others had basic pit toilets and the option to rent a Russian banya to wash in hot water. It was generally quite cold (and often rainy) at night; the tents provided by the company were good, and I was glad that I had brought a warm jacket and thermals to sleep in. (We used our own sleeping bags; maybe the company’s would have been warmer.) We camped at Ak-Kem lake for three nights, at a permanent base camp maintained by Altair-tour. That lake was a popular spot, with other campsites and some cabins dotted around it. Besides hiking, people can come in by helicopter or on horseback. I talked to a man from the Netherlands camping near us who came on some kind of New Age shamanic-themed tour to “feel the energy” of Mount Belukha; as we were leaving I heard their Russian guide leading them in a chant.
Our first campsite was on a small farm next to a riverYou can order лепешка (lepyoshka/flatbread) and fresh milk from the ownersNext we camped by beautiful Kucherla lake. Unfortunately it was too cold and rainy to swim.Ak-Kem, or “milky” lake; it’s white color comes from its chalky stones Our tent by Ak-Kem lakeButterfly outside our tentRiver we camped near on the final nightA tour group on horseback
All the meals were included in the price of the tour, and breakfast and dinner were prepared over a campfire by our guide. Breakfast was always porridge, with a different kind every day except one (oatmeal was repeated). We had lunch on the trail – black bread, sausage, cheese, pate, some canned vegetables and fish, nuts and dried fruit. For dinner we either had soup or a grain or pasta with salad; people usually chipped in to help chop vegetables. Sometimes wild food that we happened to find was added, for example, wild onions, garlic and herbs. I was pleasantly surprised by the variety of food. There were a lot of vegetables, and it was healthy and filling. I had brought along some extra snacks just in case but ended up carrying them the whole time because the food we were provided was enough. There was even fruit and chocolate every day. In the evenings people played games such as the Russian version of charades, and there were “literary evenings” where the guide read stories and information out about Altai culture; it was nice when our Altai porter was there to give extra information. This was all good Russian practice for me, but sometimes I skipped the evening activities and read in my tent.
Buckwheat with a delicious sauce made from wild green onionsCooking soupPreparing lunch at the summitA medicinal flower
Points of interest
Mount Belukha on a clear day
While camping at Ak-Kem lake we had radial day hikes, which meant we could leave our gear at the campground. The first day, we hiked to a small chapel built by a climber who had narrowly survived an avalanche, in memory of all those who haven’t been so lucky.
Our group outside the chapel
From there, we climbed up (and up..) over a lot of big stones to a small clear glacial lake. I almost didn’t go all the way up. Right before you get to the lake there is a wall of boulders that I absolutely did not want to climb, and Gavriil and I said we would hang out and wait for the group to come back. However, Leonid, doing his job as instructor, wouldn’t let me off that easily, and finally, feeling bad that our standoff was delaying the whole group, I agreed to climb up with his coaching. I stumbled and bruised my knee (still hurts two weeks later), but since the group spent a good amount of time by the lake, it was better that I went. At first I dismissed Leonid’s pep talk about overcoming fears and challenging myself, thinking – these mountain climbing types think that their kind of challenge is the only one that counts.. I mean, I moved to another country, survived five Yakutian winters, stand up everyday in front of a room full of sleepy, eye-rolling, Instagram-scrolling young people..doesn’t that count? But he does have a point, those other things aren’t that scary to me personally so it didn’t hurt (too much) to step out of my comfort zone and confront a situation I usually do my best to avoid. You’ll never see me scaling El Capitan or queueing up for the summit of Everest, but as this trip progressed, parts of the trail that would have previously induced panic had become just mildly unpleasant, and by the end I hardly noticed them.
Climbing up the dreaded stonesThe lake at the topGetting used to these bridgesWe saw a lot of these little guys; I can’t remember what they were called
The Verdict
So, am I glad I went? Would I do it again? The answer to the first question is definitely yes. The Altai Republic is a must visit for nature lovers, and throughout the trip the landscape was breathtaking. I was very happy with Altair-tour and would highly recommend them. Of course there are many other options for visiting Altai besides trekking (through this agency or others): there are horseback and rafting trips; you can choose one location and camp or rent a cabin by a lake or river, and so on. Hiking independently is another option; obviously I wouldn’t go alone but Gavriil is a very competent outdoorsman and it would be nice to go at our own pace. I did like a lot of aspects of the group trek. I regret that my Russian isn’t good enough for meaningful conversations, but it was an interesting and supportive group of people and I learned a lot. It was great having a guide, not having to worry about the food, or where we were going, and we saw places that we probably wouldn’t have gone to on our own. I might consider doing it again, but would either choose an easier route, a slower group, or do a lot more training before going.
For a while I was confused about the name of the territory beyond Yakutsk’s Old Town, between the city and the river. It’s called “Zelonyy Lug” (Зелёный Луг), or “Green Meadow”. First of all, for most of the year it’s a vast expanse of white nothingness. Second, the word “lug” is not such a common one, but it sounds almost identical to one that is quite common in everyday use: luk (лук), or onion. So for a short time I thought that this area of fields and small groves of trees was called Green Onion. The reason it sort of made sense is that after the spring melt and flooding from the river recedes and the meadow comes alive, a lot of wild green onions start to sprout among the tall grass and flowers, and local people go to gather them.
Green onion with flower
Gavriil and I decided to go today to see if we could find some. We were a little late; last week there were probably a ton but by now the fields have been picked over. We did find some, though.
I found them difficult to spot, but it helps to look for the little purple flower. Besides Green Meadow, people also go to islands in the Lena River which apparently are covered in these green onions.
Some onions growing among the wildflowers
Another reason that I didn’t pick a ton of onions is that I kept getting distracted by the beauty of my surroundings. The fields were full of flowers and of all kinds of small creatures. Of course there were mosquitoes, but a tolerable number of them. There were tons of butterflies, and different kinds of dragonflies. This one was beautiful to watch flying:
Pond in Green Meadow
The green onions are of course very good fresh, and people also chop them up and preserve them in salt to make a very delicious topping to eat on bread with butter or sour cream. We ended up with a small jar of this, which I have a feeling will not last long.
Green Meadow is also very pretty in the autumn, and in September you can sometimes find lots of edible white mushrooms growing there.
I had my first mosquito bite of the season last week, the temperatures are in the low 20’s C (70’s F), and the sun streaming through the curtains wakes me up at 3 a.m… Summer has finally arrived in Yakutia. Although my last final exam isn’t until the end of June, several of my groups have finished for the semester or are finishing soon, and I suddenly have a lot more free time on my hands. Time to get some reading in! Here are a few of the titles on my list; the book image affiliate links connect to Amazon.com.
Kamchatka
One book high on my list is “Disappearing Earth” by Julia Phillips, a debut novel by an American author who spent some time as a Fulbright Fellow in Kamchatka, the setting for the story. It got rave reviews in the New York Times, which named it one of the most anticipated titles of May, and elsewhere. The story is about the kidnapping of two girls and people who are directly and indirectly affected by it, but according to the description it delves deeply into the cultures, history, and geography of the peninsula. After visiting Kamchatka two years ago I’d be drawn to any literature connected with it, but this one sounds especially interesting.
Summer scene in a Yakutian village
After my last book post, Katherine who blogs at Street Russian recommended “The Storks’ Nest: Life and Love in the Russian Countryside”, which she said was “not quite Siberia.. but thought it was a good read”. It’s a true story about the author’s life in a tiny village near a nature reserve in Western Russia. I sometimes fantasize about living in a small village near the forest, so I should read this and see if it still sounds appealing..
Another title was suggested by Fabrizio, author of travel blog Are We There Yet? This was actually a reminder; I’ve come across this book on Amazon and can’t believe I haven’t read it yet: “In Siberia” by travel writer Colin Thubron. It was written some twenty years ago, so it will be very interesting to read his descriptions of Yakutsk which is constantly changing so must have been very different when he passed through.
Monument somewhere near Churapcha
I should also add to my list the Pushkin book that a group of students who have more confidence in my Russian skills than I do gave me as an end-of-term gift last June. I don’t remember the title; I brought it home with me on vacation with good intentions of reading it on the beach (or at least photographing myself holding it on the beach and posting it on Instagram to look impressive). It’s still back in California, waiting to be cracked open this summer.. I should give it a try, but I suspect it will end up on a shelf with the unread Spanish and Hungarian books I bought when I was feeling ambitious (and I speak/understand those languages better than Russian). And on that topic, I’m not even going to include the Russian language learning books I always haul back and forth on vacation and never open. My Russian-learning woes will probably be the subject of a long, sad post, coming soon, so stay tuned for that!
March 1 may be the official beginning of spring in Russia, but in Yakutsk it feels more like the beginning of what other people consider “normal” winter, as opposed to otherworldly insanely cold winter. By the time May arrives, although there still may be some flurries of snow, it is safe to put away the winter clothes. The snow has melted in most places in town, and the days are much longer – the sun rises at 4:00 a.m. and sets close to 9:00 p.m. The hills around the city are covered with the first flowers, which everyone calls подснежники (podsnezhniki), literally meaning something “under the snow”, translated as “snowdrops”.
“подснежники”
At least in English, snowdrops are usually a white flower, different from the ones here. After a little searching online, I found what seems to be a better name match: Pasque flower, so named because they bloom around Easter or in early May.
May group hike, last year, in Tabaga (I think)
There are two big holidays in the beginning of May – Labor Day on May 1, and Victory Day on May 9. That usually means two extra long weekends, and not much happening at work or school. People start heading out to their dachas for picnics, although it can still be a bit chilly outside. It’s perfect weather for hiking, so Gavriil and I went out to Chochur Muran yesterday and saw that the flowers were blooming.
Many people will go out to the hills around town just to see these flowers, and to take photos. Last year on the group hike (above) we stopped for a good while so we all could get our artistic shots and selfies for Instagram. My favorite snowdrop photo shoot, though, is still the one from my first spring here, taken after our staff picnic at someone’s dacha; we stopped on the way home when we passed this field. It was so silly:
Hard to believe I’ve been here five years, but then again when I look at these photos it seems so long ago. I think only two of these people still work at that same language school, and three of them now have their own (competing) schools.
A little later in May is the next big outdoor event: the ice breaking up on the Lena River. If the timing is right, we can see the snowdrops and ice break at the same time.
Like International Women’s Day (March 8), the May 1 Labor Day holiday celebrated in many countries around the world has its roots the USA but never caught on there because of its Socialist ties. (In the USA, Labor Day is celebrated on the first Monday of September.) During Soviet times, everyone was required to participate in the parade and listen to long political speeches. The holiday was renamed Spring and Labor Day in the early 1990’s, and became less political. I’ve heard that in a lot of cities in Russia the parade was discontinued, but it is still a big event in Yakutsk.
My first May 1 parade in Yakutsk, in 2014
This year was the fourth time I’ve participated in the parade, but the first with my university institute. Although there were times I was annoyed at having another work obligation on what is supposed to be a holiday for workers, it is kind of a nice tradition where everyone is outside and you get a chance to see a lot of people.
Waiting to start
In previous years the worst part was having an early meeting time, and then standing around forever waiting for the parade to start. This time I was better informed and managed to catch the contingent from my department as they were starting to move. We walked from near the university to the start of the parade, waited just a bit, then walked very quickly down Lenin Prospect. The important people are watching from the stands in Lenin Square, so at that point we have to look our best.
Lenin Square, in 2015
The slogan of May Day is Мир, Труд, Май – Peace, Labor, May. Schools, universities, and companies take part. I guess for some it is a tradition and just something you are supposed to do, while for newer companies it is a chance for promotion and being seen. I read that in some other cities here there were protests and some activists arrested, but here I’ve never seen anything political connected with the parade.
May 1 Slogan – Peace! Labor! May!The same slogan in the Sakha language
Yakutsk has another “tradition” – of having cold weather on May 1, even if it is warm and sunny the day before. One year I remember it snowed a little, and it’s often windy. Today was fairly nice, though. Below are a couple more pictures from previous years:
Beet salad, “crab” salad, chicken cutlet with mashed potato and sauce, compote
In Russia, the lunch hour is typically at 1:00 p.m., so typically, that when making appointments you can say “after lunch” (после обеда), and it will be understood that you mean exactly 2 p.m. or later. One popular place to have lunch is at a stolóvaya, or cafeteria/dining hall. Every school and university has at least one; some larger companies have their own, and there are lots of independent ones. On work days I usually go to the one in the building where I teach (saves a trip outside, with all the bundling up that has to happen), or to the one in the dormitory near my apartment. (When it’s warmer I’ll walk the few extra minutes to Blin House.)
For Russians the food at these places is comfortingly familiar; they have the same standard dishes that have been served since Soviet times. Yakutia has its own cuisine, but the cafeterias here mainly stick to the old Russian standbys. A couple of cafeteria-style cafes do serve Yakutian dishes such as tripe soup and Indigirka (raw frozen fish) salad along with the piroshki and cutlets.
Beef tongue and cucumber salad, tea, and mixed sauteed vegetables at Makhtal cafe.
A stolovaya menu always includes soup, such as borscht, beef noodle, or split pea. If I’m lucky, there will be a good selection of salads. Russian vegetable salads usually feature one main ingredient, such as carrots, cabbage, or beets; and rarely lettuce. I often take two, but don’t see anyone else doing that. Then you have a choice of grains or carbs: potatoes, rice, pasta or buckwheat (гречка/gretchka), and meat dishes such as chicken or beef cutlets, meatballs, or goulash. They always have plov, the Central Asian rice dish that is delicious if made well; it usually isn’t but everyone is used to the mediocre version. There is also an array of piroshki and other pastries. To drink, there is mors (boiled lingonberries) and compote (boiled dried fruit), coffee and tea, plus bottled soft drinks and juices.
Olivier salad, compote, beet salad and plov
The first time I came to Russia, I was intimidated by ordering at the stolovaya, but there were no other options. With almost zero Russian, for the first couple weeks I ordered soup (same word in Russian and English). Then by listening to other people ordering I heard that macaroni is also the same word, so I added that and some mystery meat to my order. The main change that I’ve noticed since then (2001) is that they use mostly disposable plates and plastic utensils now. I can still remember vividly the super long and creaky conveyor belt that you put the dirty dishes on there.
Crab salad, compote, cabbage salad and macaroni with chicken
Once you know the routine, it’s easy to order even without being a fluent speaker. Pre-made salads and drinks are usually self-serve. If the soups aren’t labeled, just try your luck and say “soup”. For the main dish, they like you to specify the side (pasta, gretchka, etc.) first, then the meat. Then they will ask if you want sauce; it’s usually a good idea. Some people just get the grain and sauce. Sometimes they weigh the meat or fish, and you have to remember that number to tell the cashier, but if you have limited Russian they probably won’t make you do that.
Macaroni with roast chicken and mixed vegetables
It may not be fine dining, but I like the stolovaya food. There’s usually a decent choice, and you can get a well-balanced meal for around 200 – 250 roubles. (US $3 – $3.50). To avoid long lines and get a table, it’s best to go just before 1:00 or closer to 2:00.
Cabbage salad, beet salad, mashed potatoes with beef cutlet and sauce
The first time I came to Russia (in 2001, to Orenburg), there must have been a much more generous baggage allowance because I remember bringing a huge stack of books, several of them being ridiculously heavy tomes on Russian history, which my brother had given me before I left. And I actually read all of them in the six months I was there. So, when I decided to come to Siberia, I looked forward to all the reading I was sure to be doing here, with eight months of winter! I had room for a few books in my bags, and bought a Kindle for when those ran out. And.. I didn’t even take my Kindle out of the box for a year and a half! What happened?! Well, I worked more hours here, especially in the beginning, and had a more active social life, since there are other foreigners. But the main difference is probably that in 2001, in order to use the Internet, I had to visit the International Office of the University where they were kind enough to let me use their computer. I had a landline, no cell phone; and no cable TV – nothing to do but read and study Russian. In other words, the good old days..
However, I have managed to fit in a few books here and there, and try to read any books I find about Siberia, and if I’m lucky, about Yakutia. Here are a few that I would recommend if you find yourself in Siberia or just want to imagine being there; let me know about any others I’m missing! My Russian isn’t really good enough to read more than a short story, so this list only includes books in English.
The Bear and the Nightingale: A Novel (Winternight Trilogy) This historical fantasy novel isn’t actually set in Siberia, but somewhere in the north of Medieval Russia. I include it here because it was the perfect reading for my winter vacation in a Siberian village in a cabin with a wood-burning stove, on the edge of the forest.. It’s an enjoyable read, about a young girl with supernatural powers and the magical beings of old Russian beliefs.
Fresh loaves, village style
What made it even more perfect was that Gavriil found an old pan for baking bread in the fireplace and decided to do that while we were there. In the book, there is always fresh bread coming out of the oven..
Kolymsky Heights is a must-read for your long plane journey to Yakutia. It’s not my usual genre – a really strange spy thriller with a totally implausible plot and impossibly talented (but charming) main character. However, it is super suspenseful and gripping and hard to put down. It’s set in the north of Yakutia, and although I don’t think the author has ever been here he must have done a good deal of research. (But one funny error – he talks about a Yakutian woman cooking stroganina, which he calls a fish stew – the dish is actually slices of frozen raw fish.) While you’re reading this, you’ll really feel the cold!
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I picked up Travels in Siberia at one of my favorite (now closed) bookstores in San Francisco in 2009, when the idea of living in Siberia was still just a far-off fantasy for me.. I put it on my shelf, and so ended up reading it here. It’s kind of a rambling travelogue, very funny, insightful, and well-written. There’s a lot of good historical information, especially about the GULAGs and about the Decembrists who were exiled to Irkutsk. The author makes a quick visit (well, after a long train and road trip) to Yakutsk, too, which he compares to an American frontier town.
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Anyone who feels compelled to complain about the roads in Siberia should first read Sakhalin Island (Alma Classics), a collection of letters and notes written by the great Anton Chekhov as he journeyed all the way across Russia in 1890 to investigate and report on the conditions at the prison colony on Sakhalin, on the Pacific coast. It has extremely detailed and vivid descriptions of the journey and especially of what life was like on the island, among prisoners, settlers, administrators and the indigenous people. Now I want to visit Sakhalin!
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I bought a used copy of The Reindeer People because it was one of the few nonfiction books I could find on Yakutia, although it is not about the Sakha people who are the predominant ethnic group in Yakutsk. It is a British anthropologist’s account of the time he spent with Even reindeer herders in the far north of Yakutia, and about how they have adapted first to Communism and then to the fall of the Soviet Union. I expected it to be a bit dry, but it manages to strike the right balance between scholarly and personal, and is a very compelling read.
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Not quite as quirky as Travels in Siberia, but nevertheless full of interesting characters and places, Midnight in Siberia: A Train Journey into the Heart of Russia was actually pretty popular when it came out and I imagined inspired a few people to take that long train journey themselves..
яяяяяяяяяяяяяяяяяяяяяяяяяяяяяяяяяяяяяяяяяяяяяя
Honorable mention to this one. So far I’ve only read the one chapter that I assigned to my linguistics students, but I’d like to read the rest. K David Harrison has done a lot of his research on Siberian languages, so I’m pretty sure this book has a wealth of linguistic and cultural information about indigenous Siberian people.
And I just came across this whole blog devoted to books about Russia; I’m sure I can find some interesting titles there.
New Year’s is perhaps the biggest holiday in Russia, and at least judging from what my students say it is the most loved. It is mostly a family affair, a bit like Christmas in the US but with the main (huge) meal eaten around midnight on December 31. Most people have a couple of weeks off work, from about December 29 until after Russian Orthodox Christmas (January 7). For foreigners here it can be kind of a dead time – it’s super cold, some businesses are closed and a lot of local people either travel to warmer places or hibernate at home. Since I was just back in California in November I wasn’t up for another long trip, so Gavriil suggested we spend the holiday in his village, Berdigestyakh.
Small food shop near the house
As I wrote in my previous post, I’ve been to Berdigestyakh several times now, but this was the longest I’ve spent there. We went without a fixed return date, and ended up staying for around 10 days. It was nice to relax and be completely free from deadlines and obligations. We visited his relatives a few times, but mostly hung out at the cabin, reading, watching TV, eating a lot (of course), dealing with daily chores there, and taking walks in the early afternoon before it got dark. Very back-to-basics. There were a couple of times I went a little crazy from boredom or being fed up with the cold outhouse, but overall it was a good experience of a different pace of life.
Blocks of ice cut from the lake
After my last post, my uncle John asked about drinking water, which reminded me of an interesting detail about life in a Yakutian village. There you don’t boil your drinking water, but you melt it! People who don’t have running water can go to a nearby lake and cut out blocks of ice. It’s pure and clean water, and ready to drink when it melts. (There’s also bottled water, of course, but it’s nice to avoid using plastic.) For other purposes (washing dishes, bathing), we melted snow.
Melting ice and snow
Ice harvesting area
Cross-section of lake ice
We usually go to the village on holiday weekends, so I’ve only seen the center when most places are closed, but Gavriil showed me around this time, anyway. The little food markets are almost always open, as is the diner on the main road. So far we haven’t found any other restaurants open when we’ve been there.
School sports hallRow of shopsNew schoolMilitary enlistment officeEntertainment centerDinerGavriil’s secondary school (no longer in use)
One reason to stay in the village longer was that it was warmer than in Yakutsk – sometimes by as much as 10 degrees. We were able to enjoy some relatively sunny days and have some nice walks. We got back into the city yesterday, to thick fog and -45 degrees. I haven’t wanted to leave the apartment at all. Luckily there are still a few days left before the start of the new semester, and we brought back loads of meat, homemade piroshki and jam, etc. from the village so I don’t really have to go anywhere.
Siberia Stories 