Berlin

Brandenburg Gate at night.

Listening for Hitler´s ghost atop his bunker.

Hitler´s previous living location is now home to fantastic Chinese dining!

Was happy to see that my brother´s in arms have already infiltrated this city.

The Reichstag, in all of its chocolatey glory!

City square somewhere in Berlin.

Jewish memorial in Berlin.

There are far too many smiling faces in this protectin shot, but nonetheless, Just Protectin´ the Berlin Wall.

Angel on a stick!

Feel free to create your own caption for this picture.

Mark my words, I would die for my Berlin football club.

Olympic Stadium.

German Committee members inspect the local recipe.

It was all fun and games prior to the actual fun and games.

Pergamon altar inside the Pergamon museum.

Lonely stone soldier stands watch over the Soviet memorial.

Inside za dome of za Reichstag.

Entrance to the concentration camp, with the horribly untrue slogan of "Work will set you free".

Execution trench, with bullet catcher in the back and a Canadian wreath in front.

Our group arrived in a slightly colder Berlin on the afternoon of the 14th after a 4 hour train ride from Prague. The border was probably the easiest I´ve crossed, with the guards coming on the train with a portable stamp and checking us all into Germany in less than a minute. Tara had taken care of our accomodations beforehand from Vancouver and had checked us into what I was later to learn is the 3rd highest rated hostel in the world, quite nice as would be expected and one of the reasons I´m still here.

The next day we signed on to a tour given by Terry, a fellow who has been doing it so long that he started his career by showing allied soldiers around the city after the war. During the marathon 10 hour walk through the middle of Berlin, we visited virtually every major historical site the city has to offer. Stopping off or passing by the Reichstag, the Brandenburg gate, Hitler´s bunker, Luftwaffe headquarters, the Berlin Wall, Hitler´s old house and a bunch more. Due to the freezing conditions, several members of our party had to make a hasty retreat back to the hostel, giving us another reason to walk around the city the following day.

Saturday saw us travelling out to the edges of Berlin to catch a Bundisliga game (Germany´s premiere soccer league). After adourning ourselves in the hometeam´s colours and scarves, we made our way into the famous Olympic Stadium, which also played host to the 1936 olympics. Although not quite as crazy as some of the South American games I´ve been too, the crowd was still leagues beyond anything typically seen in a North American sporting event. Unfortunately for us, Hertha Berlin experienced their first home loss in 10 months, casting a dismal mood over the blue, scarf covered fans on our trek home. That night we held a few of our own football matches in the back of a Berlin bar. The headline event being the Hatazawa brothers versus the Blanchets, and in a dastardly turn of events, my own side suffered one too many defeats at the end of the tournament. Little did I know that my sister has married some kind of fuseball guru, although I was able to barely beat him in a straight one on one, I did not like having a hobby I hold so dear being challenged by a mere mortal.

Following a quick breakfast the next morning, the gang saddled up their bags, jumped in a taxi and left me twiddling my thumbs on the side of a Berlin street, all by my lonesome. After aimlessly walking around the city listening to Wolfmother, I decided the only way to properly cheer up was to reacquaint myself with my good friend alcohol. Within minutes of signing up for one of the local pub crawls I was immersed in a world of a German pilsners, jaggermeister and absynth. The walk home at 3am, which should have taken 10 minutes, took over 2 hours, as I got incredibly lost in the bullet ridden/bomb scarred maze of East Berlin. To investigate the strange nausious, dizzy feeling I had recently acquired, I would randomly empty my stomach in an effort to sift through the contents and find the culprit. The following day was a write off, aside from a quick visit to the Pergamon museum, famous for housing the reconstructed gates of Babylon and other massive structures inside its walls.

This morning I grabbed a train and rocketed right out of the city to the little town of Oranienburg, home of the Sachsenhausen concentration camp. Sachsenhausen was the first concentration camp to be designed and built for the that specific purpose and was used as a model for future camps as well to train the officers and commanders who would later go on to rule over Aushwitz, Dachau and other happy places of the Nazi regime. Sachsenhausen is most notoriously remembered as the camp where over 10,000 Russian POWs from the Eastern Front were executed bringing the overall death toll of the place to just over 100,000. Most of the killings were done with a simple device that appeared to be measuring the victims height. After standing next to the ruler, a small panel slid down in which the hidden SS guard behind would insert his pistol and finish the job. After passing through the skull, the bullet would economically be caught in a bullet catcher on the far side, in order to be re-used for the next person. Near the end of the war, a gas chamber was installed to speed up the process, as well as several sets of gallows. The Soviets liberated the camp in May of 1945 (but not before the camp leadership decided a move was in order, resulting in a death march across Germany that killed an additional 6000 people) and thought it was such an efficient system that they would just keep using it! It was used simply as a "prison" for the next 5 years under the Russians, with another 12,000 inmates dying before it was finally shut down in 1950. Because of its location deep within Soviet territory, it´s still undergoing some changes, mainly the fact that the Russians only mentioned the heroic Communists who had died in the camp and totally failed to mention any Jews, Gypsies etc.

Tomorrow I spend my last day in Berlin, before flying out to London to meet up with more characters in this story. I had originally wanted to travel through Belgium and France in an effort to wet my endless appetite for war history, but decided against it after the cost was looked into. Berlin is a fantastic city for walking (which is how I tend to measure the quality of a city now), has a ton to see and last but not least, the flight up to London cost me $50!

Through Siberia and into Europe

Some stop...somewhere in the middle of Siberia.

Loco!

A little look at Siberia, through the train window.

One of our much loved, typical train dinners.

Onion factories in Moscow!

Warm up lunch during Moscow sightseeing day.

Long view over the Moscow river towards the Kremlin.

Icy walkway up to the Kremlin.

A gigantic cannon....

Just protectin' The Kremlin.

Look down one of St. Petersberg's canals.

Winter Palace.

One of the random hallways in the Hermitage.

A throne room fit for Glob.

A ninja turtle made this!

St. Petersberg swimming pool.

Down a street in Praha.

Outside of Prague's version of the Gastown Steam Clock, stupid tourists.

Dumplings!

Ethan!

Prague at night.

Dev and I finally managed to escape the clutches of Irkutsk the following day and by 5pm were on our way West through Siberia, past the Ural mountains and into a little town called Moscow. The 77 hour train ride was probably the most enjoyable travelling I've done the entire trip and the 3 days seemed to whiz by as quickly as the terrain outside.

Neither Devon or myself ever discovered if there actually was a dining car attached to our train, and for the most part, our days revolved around eating. Whenever our food stores began shrinking, we would decipher the Cyrillic timetables in order to find a lengthy stop, then dash out of the train to the nearest supermarket, buy more sausage, cheese, pickles and bread, all the while hoping that I had translated the name of the town correctly and that our train would still be there when we returned. Given that and simply how much time we had on there, I'm proud to announce I can read the Russian language, albeit I usually have no idea what the words meant, but it did come in handy for town names etc.

During the day we would rotate between reading, playing our nintendos, staring out the window at the snowy landscape or playing/fighting the little Russian kid who broke into our cabin every 20 minutes to say hello. Unlike our two previous trains, the carriage we were on was rather quiet and peaceful, most of it being made up of a group of families, which was a nice change from the stumbling drunks who want to talk to you at 3am. Our providnista (carriage attendant) quickly realized we didn't speak Russian and was actually quite nice and helpful to us, even entrusting us with her sacred door lock device during a long stop in Novgorod.

We pulled into Moscow at 6pm on the 7th and found our way into the depths of earth to have a try at the notoriously complex Moscow Metro system. With my new found knowledge of their alphabet, we were able to eventually make our way into the center of town and to our awaiting beds at Napolean Hostel. Within minutes of arriving, we had become intertwined with some other travellers and were out the door for a strange night of food, bowling and clubbing. Upon leaving the last establishment, we stumbled out into the -27 degree night and made our way home through the bizarre private taxi system the city runs (basically any normal citizen will simply pick you up for the right amount of money). Although cold for us, I'm sure it was much chillier for the fellow who we saw get beaten down then thrown out into the snow wearing only a pair of jeans and his own blood.

The Russians in general are a bit of a somber people, especially around tourists. They rarely smile or joke with you (aside from the ones who work directly for tourists) except when they have been diving down their Vodka bottles, which they do constantly and without abandon. The Russian women are absolutely stunning, while the Russian men seem like a bunch of degenerative, fighting, militaristic drunks, making for some strange combinations when you see them walking together down the street or in the bars. The corruption in the city is horribly visible in the black Mercedes, Audis and BMWs that drive around with blue sirens on, which basically means they've bought a "license" from the government that makes them invulnerable to traffic violations (meaning they can and do drive over sidewalks, through red lights and basically speed everywhere).

We enlisted the help of a Russian speaking Swiss hero, Markus, who had incredibly walked from Swizterland to Ukraine before finally getting cold and bought a train to Moscow, and toured through the city. Red Square was sadly a little underwhelming (was always much larger in my mind's eye) but the awesome Russian architecture, the Kremlin and the plethora of other Soviet style buildings were fantastic. We managed to get into Lenin's tomb while it was completely empty, aside from the stern looking guards who surround his body, and were able to spend a minute or so staring at the bizarre, waxy skin of Russia's holiest hero.

After two days of sightseeing around Russia, we grabbed a night train up to St. Petersberg which deposited us in the even colder city early the next morning. After quickly finding our hostel, we decided to take advantage of our only full day in the famous city and set out for a day of exploring. Following a 2km stroll down Nevsky street (which is apparently Russia's most famous street, unknown to us) we ended up at the Winter Palace/Hermitage. The Hermitage is one of the largest museums in the world and according to sources, holds the greatest value of items amongst all museums on the planet. The building looked deceivingly small at first, but once we were inside the two of us were literally lost for 3 hours as we stumbled through the endless maze of priceless paintings and sculptures. As with most museum experiences, we started quite pumped, analyzing each painting for a good 3-5 minutes, by near the end were simply speed walking through the corridors. We finished our tour of the city by walking over some of the famous canals, around a few of the massive fortresses and eventually back to our hostel, quite tuckered out.

The next day, after finishing some souvenir shopping, we jumped on a flight outta Russia and into the heart of Eastern Europe, Prague. After a joyous reunion with Tara, Ray, Michelle, Shin and Danielle, the 7 of us explored a bit of the city. Yesterday we did much of the same, with a visit to the Museum of Tortures, a stint on the bridge where Jon Voight fakes his own death in Mission Impossible, through the typical gothic buildings of what you would expect to find in a place like Prague and eventually went out for a huge, delicious meal (thanks pa!). Today is much of the same, perhaps with a little bowling thrown into the mix after dinner... Tomorrow morning we take a train and blast out of here towards Berlin!

Rushin' around Russia

Our beautiful Mongolian Ger.

I obtained the help of a local ninja in order to Protect Mongolia.

Me on my little Mongol pony.

Dev and I out on Lake Baikal.

Explaining to a local just what it means to be the Perth 8-ball Champion.

Dog sledding!

Sunset of a frozen Lake Baikal.

I think this camel took a wrong turn somewhere around Syria.

Frozen bogeys.

I triple dog dare you to stick your tongue on the ice Kremlin.

The first leg of our Trans-Mongolian railway rolled out of Beijing at 7:40 on the 27th. After some minor confusion in the Beijing train station, we eventually found the proper platform/waiting area and soon enough were on our way to Moscow! The ride to Ulan Bataar, the capital of Mongolia, lasted 30 hours, during which Dev and I shared a single, two-bed, cabin in the first class carriage (the only tickets available from Canada). Most of the day was spent either reading, playing Hive (thank you Mr. Holmes, fantastic addition to our entertainment library) or lying around destroying one another on our nifty little Nintendos. All in all our travel companions for this leg were quite civilized and nothing major happened in that respect. We were able to enlist the young Mongolian kid next to us as our translator, and periodically he would help us through any communication breakdowns.

There was a little confusion at the Mongolian/Chinese border which resulted in not being able to see the bogey changing (Mongolia and China use different widths of tracks, which means each carriage needs to be lifted up, then new sets of wheels slid underneath at the border). We left the train too early and after briskly walking through the -25 to -30 weather (so...cold...) we spent the majority of the 3 hour border crossing sitting in Chinese immigration watching Mongolians stalk up on oranges and bananas to import to their frozen nation.

After arriving in Ulan Bataar at 2pm, we were quickly located by a tout and whisked away to one of the major hostels in the capital (a whole 3 rooms). The following day saw us heading out to a nearby national park where we moved in with a local family for a night in an attempt to get a feel for the Mongolian countryside. The three of us (we were joined by a Swede named Stephane) walked around outside in the subzero temperatures, played with the farm dogs and eventually saddled up onto some Mongolian ponies for the coldest time of my life as we rode over some hills and through the driving winds. How the Mongols were able to carve out the largest empire in history by using these sturdy yet tiny little guys is beyond me, all of ours were incredibly stubborn and seemed just as happy to get out of the cold as we did. We spent the night sleeping in a Ger which is a traditional Mongolian tent. The son from the family would periodically come in and top the stove up with coal and wood until the entire thing had reached an unbearable heat, making sleep a distant memory. The two days and one night we spent out there was definitely worth the small troubles. The Mongolians are a very hardy people and quite proud of their long history.

We left Ulan Bataar at 2pm the next day, making our way for Irkutsk. The train ride north was less a train and more a travelling band of smugglers who took every liberty to hide their merchandise throughout the train. During the 7 hours before reaching the border, the train was a madhouse of Mongolians trading their goods, moving their goods and hiding their goods. The woman in our compartment was some sort of Green Tea Baroness and after stocking our little room up with bricks of tea (which we first thought was some illicit drug), she then travelled the length of the train, trading her tea for blankets, shoes, vodka, baby clothes and sausage. After obtaining what must have been a small fortune, she then attempted to thwart the Russian customs agents by hiding her contraband through our compartment, but mainly under the westerner's bags, the westerner's being us. The chaos of the traders, mixed with the Mongolian wrestling team next door (this actually isn't an exaggeration, they really were members of the Mongolian wrestling team and they wrestled the ENTIRE trip) meant the whole trip was full of strange people bumping into us and exploding into our cabin. Once the traders finally settled down, it was only minutes before someone broke out the Vodka and the entire place seemed to explode again as drunken Russians and Mongolians would stumble into/over our living space. The Mongolian/Russian border took an agonizing 10 hours (officially taking the "longest border crossing" title away from my West Bank/Israel experience). Unable to read the schedules, we were too scared to get off the train to attempt to buy food or change money in the fear that our train would simply up and leave, stranding us somewhere in Siberia. After several hours of debate, we finally took the plunge, asked the carriage attendant through hand gestures when the train leaves, and walked out onto the -20 degree train platform. We emerged back from the station minutes later to find our train gone. Luckily, several of the smugglers were still milling about the station and eased our worries by explaining in a combination of Mongolian and Russian exactly what was going on. We waited on the platform, trying to devise what the hell to do next, until our train miracously re-appeared, but with a dining car attached! The only further interruption from this point forward was the carriage attendant attempting to wake up the Mongolian smuggler who had passed out in our compartment. His voice emerged in my dream as a bumbling loudspeaker which repeatedly yelled out the phrase "Ronaldinho, Scurvy!" until I was much more awake than her and wondering exactly what that translates into in Russian.

We arrived in the somewhat gloomy city of Irkutsk (always pictured it much more lively while playing RISK) the next afternoon and found our way to one of the few hostels in the city. Apparently there are no signs advertising this type of establishment in Russia, and we were only able to verify its existence through the word "hostel" spray painted on the steel door behind the building, quite inviting. The next morning we departed for the village of Listvyanka, on the shores of Lake Baikal. Lake Baikal is the deepest lake in the world, holds more unfrozen, fresh water than all of the Great Lakes combined (1/5th of the world's fresh water) and will eventually become the next ocean. For those reasons and more we were inclined to see this gigantic pearl of Siberia. Once again there was a complete lack of signage in the village even though it apparently has abundant hostels and guesthouses. After walking around for more than an hour we literally stumbled across a nice place at the back of the village.

After walking out onto the frozen lake for a while and generally playing around, we settled into a warm lunch at a local restaurant/bar. As sometimes happens when it's freezing outside we delayed our return to the outdoors by ordering a steady stream of beers until over 8 hours had passed in this place. The beginning of the strange drinking event saw us starting with a nice couple from England, then moving onto some amiable Aussies and eventually saw us quarantined to the pool table where we spent the rest of the night with a group of vodka drinking ex-soldiers (although all still wearing their fatigues...). Not sure how we communicated, but after enough of the vile liquid had flowed, they too had their charms until we were all cut off by the angry tavern wench and forced out onto the street.

The following day was spent recovering in bed until we had to get up in the late afternoon to go dog sledding. Because of short notice we weren't able to go on a huge trip, but the 5km path we did gave us a good taste of it all. As soon as you release the brake, the canines bound into action and zoom out along the forest path, almost knocking me off the back several times. It was an awesome little experience and it seemed like the dogs enjoyed it as much as myself. I was however amazed that it took 7 of these seemingly ordinary dogs to do the job of a single Dutch.

This morning we caught a bus back into Irkutsk, where we were told that there are no train tickets available for today. The train station ticketing system is a gong show and once we were rejected from that (we had hoped to leave today) we forced to march back to the hostel and book another night. Luckily we *think* we have managed to secure tickets leaving tomorrow, should be interesting. With any luck, we'll be out of here before the sun sets tomorrow, beginning the 4 day train ride to Moscow!

Unfortunately I had to quickly pre-select which photos to upload here from the attendant, or else I would have many more, sorry!

On a completely unrelated note, my fellow travellers are experiencing some kind of problem with their blog site (or more appropriately its email server) and you may not have been getting any of their updates, so if you're interested in checking out what they're up to:

Ryan
http://www.travelblog.org/Bloggers/El-Tigre/

Jason
http://www.travelblog.org/Bloggers/lush/

Jamez
http://www.travelblog.org/Bloggers/lushious/

Trevor
http://www.travelblog.org/Bloggers/tchamber/