Leningrad (St. Petersburg), Soviet Union

The Great Wall, China

Leningrad, Soviet Union, 04 August 1987:   Dobry veyechir! (Good evening)!  The impressions I got from this year's camp in the Soviet Union were very different from last year's camp.  Last year's camp was much preferred.  This is not to say that I didn't learn some things or didn't have some very good times, but much of the personal contact with Soviets and people in general was lost in the crowd of too many (500) participants.  I met some old friends, but made very few new ones (this time, only Americans).

Now I have almost 7 days of train travel to try to gear my mind for the next and likely, the most emotionally demanding adventure.

Do Sveedanya (goodbye)!
Boris Badinoff and Natasha

On the Trans-Siberian Railroad, Soviet Union, 08 August 1987: Dobry veyechir! (Good evening)!  I have a very comfortable compartment all to myself on the Trans-Siberian railroad.  For me, it has been a very relaxing vacation from my normally hectic pace of travel.  The food is good but limited in variety, and I must walk through 9 cars, opening and closing over 30 doors, to receive it.  The toilets are kept very clean by the Chinese porters, there is always toilet paper available, and contrary to popular Western imagination, Siberian toilet seats are not so cold (this time of year, anyway).

Right now, we are riding alongside Lake Baikal, the world's deepest and largest by volume.  Most of the scenery has been like 6 days of riding through Northern Minnesota woodlands, although tomorrow we will be crossing into Mongolia, touching a corner of the Gobi desert.  Many people in Siberia live in homes of unpainted wood which hardly seem efficient enough to keep out the winter's cold.

About half the passengers in this 20 car train are Chinese.  The other half are Scandanavian and German groups with a very small scattering of individual travelers from other countries.  There are no Soviets I know of, and I am the only American.  Most of the West Europeans are paying several times what I paid to ride this train, only because they didn't realize how cheaply tickets could be purchased in Eastern Europe.  And they always ask me how difficult it was for me to get my visa for the Soviet Union, because they believe (wrongly) that U.S. citizens would have a much more difficult time receiving a visa.

When I'm not talking to the people on the train, I'm playing guitar, writing postcards, reading guide books (in psychological preparation for China), or sleeping to adjust to 5 time zone changes.  Time Magazine recently called this "the ultimate rail experience".  It has gone very quickly for me.

Peace and love,
Alexander Solshenitzen

Ulan Bator, Mongolia, 09 August 1987:  This is just about as far away from home as I can get on this planet.  I'm only transiting the country via Trans-Siberian railroad, but I have just enough time to get off at the stations so I can send you these pretty stamps.  Tomorrow, I'll be in Peking (Beijing).  Out my window looks like the Great Plains.

Peace and love,
Deano

Xian, China, 18 August 1987:  Ni hao! (Hello)!  I've come a long way to China!  It would have been shorter to dig a hole through the Earth.  I thought people stood upside-down on this side of the globe -- another theory disproven.

Having never seen a Deanoman before, the Chinese are very curious when one happens by.  It doesn't take much for me to attract a group of 30 onlookers or more.  All I have to do is show interest in buying something.  Sometimes, in less touristy areas, just sitting on a curb waiting for a bus attracts stares.  Stop and jot something down in my journal, and someone is sure to poke their head over to see what I'm writing.

The more I use chopsticks, the less dexterous I seem to become.  The food varies in quality from absolutely fabulous to "Pardon me while I vomit."  What looked good last night was upon closer inspection that what I had ordered a rather slimey looking snake.  Most places to eat outside of the tourist route are incredibly scrungy looking.  May I have a plate of hepatitis, please, with a side order of giardia, and a glass of typhoid, hold the dysentary.

It would double my pleasure to take away half the crowds and half the humidity here.  The lineups to buy things are often obnoxious, but all one can do is grin, test new heights of patience, and realize that there is not thing-one you can do about one billion Chinese.

The workhorse of long distance freight in China is still the steam locomotive engine.  The workhorse of inner-city transport is still the bicycle.  The workhorse of agriculture is still the workhorse and the Chinese people themselves.

In cities, I've seen people carry everything on their bicycles or large tricycles ... from their wife and four children to couches and refrigeraters.  The bicycle dominates the road everywhere.  It's faster and more comfortable to get around on than absurdly crowded busses (which substitute as saunas).

I've met some of the kindest and some of the most rude and inconsiderate people of my trip amongst the Chinese.  But one thing's for sure -- I've really short changed this place for time.  It is interesting enough to stay here much, much longer than the month or so I'm giving to it.

Shijain (goodbye),
Genghis Khan

Langzhou, China, 27 August 1987:  Hello!  The latest two tragedies in the Dean Oman saga stung me hard.  First, I lost the last 2 month volume of my daily diary.  It's amazing to me how much detail I've already forgotten when I try to recollect names, etc.  Secondly, and far worse yet, I discovered recently that for the same two months, my newly purchased Minox camera has not been functioning, or ceased functioning soon after I purchased it.  This means that up to a total of 9 rolls of film, over 300 pictures I took of Czechoslovakia, Hungary, USSR and China are worthless!  Because I was moving so rapidly and because I was taking slides, which take several days for processing in socialist countries, I never received any feedback until I had a chance to process some prints -- non of which turned out.

I am really shattered that I lost so many pictures, so many memories ... everything from my study/tour in Estonia, Trans-Siberian trip, even Peking and the Great Wall.  It's the biggest disappointment of my trip so far, worse than losing a guitar, worse than contracting malaria -- but I'm moving on.  There still are mony more beautiful places to see and people to meet.

Peace and love,
Deano

Lanzhou, China, 27 August 1987:  Ni hao! (Hello)!  Individual travel in China is no piece of cake.  The Chinese people in general are very kind, but basic human politeness and consideration is often lacking with those working in tourist professions, moreso in China than anyplace I've been.  This is most noticable when you're trying to buy bus, train or plane tickets to anywhere.  Most individual travelers I've met who've been in China long enough to be frustrated a few times would rank railway officials down with the scum of the Earth.  Superhuman patiences is often required in order to deal with their rudeness or childish games, and you'll be very lucky to get any answeres from them other than "mayo" (meaning "no") or impossible or go away ... don't bother me.

I tried for several days to get a train ticket out of Xian, China.  When I finally got it, it was the wrong class costing twice as much.  I told them to give me the right class, but they charged me more just to correct their mistake.  A day later, they got me the right ticket, but the train had been cancelled for the next week to 10 days due to an accident.  Had it not been for the arguing talents of a young lawyer I met named Mary (from Toronto), I probably wouldn't have gotten my money back.

I'm leaving out a lot of the hassles that I went through in this process -- language barriers, corruption, etc.  -- because they wouldn't fit on this postcard.

After a week of trying to get out of Xian, I finally got a bus.  Whatever you do, don't look at the tires!  Cover your eyes as your suicidal, kamakazi driver neither stops nor slows down for anything.  At one point, our driver had two wheels go off the shoulder into the ditch with the sdie of the bus only inches from a high rocky wall.  We had to wait an hour for another bus to tow us out and even then our bus scraped against the wall.

Anyway, I made it here to Lanzhou in one piece ... while the bus driver blew his horn almost constantly.

The Chinese get very impatient when they see me using chopsticks with my left hand.  They usually hand me a spoon.

Also, I've learned to shit communally with the Chinese.  Public toilets often have no stall walls, and in fact no toilets -- just holes in the cement spaced side-by-side 2 and 1/2 feet apart, over which you croutch, as you watch, listen and smell your neighbors doing the same thing.

Zhaijian (goodbye),
Mao Tse Tung

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