I have never done this before, but I have surely done it now. I spent last night in a horrible hotel room by the Krasnoyarsk Airport. The wall paper is pealing off the walls, the floor creaks with every step and like all Russian indoor spaces it is ridiculously hot. Despite temperatures below 20 degrees outside I have to keep a window open to keep it bearable.
Somewhere between Moscow and Krasnoyarsk I have lost any sense of time. When I wake up the next morning I have this weird feeling of unease. I am sure my plane doesn't leave for hours so I eat a casual breakfast. When I return to my room I figure out that I have missed my flight to Kyzyl. In all my years I have never missed a flight this badly. I know there isn't another flight for two days, and that is the same plane I am planning to return on.
I rush over to the airport on the off chance my flight was delayed. No such luck. It takes me half an hour to find someone who can help me. This time I find someone who has about the same level of German as I do. I try to find another way to Kyzyl. Taxi? Nein. Car rent? Nien. Autobus? Iche frage. He asks at the bus kiosk. Ja, there is a bus in 15 minutes. I run the quarter mile back to the hotel and try to offer anyone money to take me back to the airport. Language and job duties prevent any takers. I pack quickly and take off towards the bus stop. On the way I engage my collision avoidance system with that oncoming truck I mentioned in an earlier blog. I arrive safely at the bus stop and buy my $22 ticket.
To my surprise my newfound German-speaking helper is standing by. It is below 20 outside and he waited for me. I was surprised at the gesture, but then I figure out why is there. We exchange information is out broken German, where we learned it, where I am from, etc. Then The Big Question comes out, the one I have heard before and expect to never hear again in Russia:
"Why are you going to Kyzyl?'
I explain it is the center of Asia, that geography interests me and I try to tell Fynman's story. He gets its a bit, I think. (BTW, he had already asked me about my missing coat when we first met.) But in his eyes I can see he doesn't get it. I could go anywhere in the world I wanted to, why would I want to go to Kyzyl? In my head a little voice agrees with him, tells me to just give up and head on. But I can't, I just can't. If you told me that Kyzyl was quarantined, on fire, radioactive and full of zombies I would still want to go there. Maybe more. I am dying of thirst and Kyzyl is a cool spring for my parched throat. I am as driven as any lemming, and Kyzyl is my sea.
The bus arrives and I say goodbye to my best friend for the day, which I tell him. He tells me Kyzyl is about 300 kilometers away, so I estimate a four hour ride. WRONG AGAIN KYZYL BOY!
The bus ride ends up being about 14 hours long, covering over 500 of snowy roads. Some of the scenery is spectacular, but most is dreary. Our first bathroom stop consists of a shack with a divider between the genders. There is a rough slab of concrete with two holes cut through, a dirt hole beneath. Over the cold winter months a kind of yellowish ice rim has formed around the hole, making it almost disappear. I am grateful for the cold, as it holds back the smell. The level of primitive facilities does not comfort me about what the future holds. Just WHY am I going to Kyzyl?
The bus stops every two hours or so for a smoke, food and bathroom break. There are two drivers that take turns. At the food stops they explain my lack of Russian by saying something I imagine is "That's our American passenger." They seem a bit proud that they hauling my tired carcass over the Russian steppe. The food at one stop is amazingly good, a kind of chicken tortellini in chicken broth. I also try a skewer of charcoal roasted pork, which is available at each stop. Yummy.
We finally pull into Kyzyl after midnight. It is my good fortune that a few enterprising cab drivers are hanging about looking for fares. I pick a cab that is run my two Mongolians who are besides themselves with joy that they have a customer. I just say hotel and off we go in a car that shouldn't be allowed on any road to a decent hotel. I have a prepaid reservation somewhere but I could care less. The double shift and late hour has taken all of my willpower away. Its a good lesson that reinforces me not to miss future flights.
While checking in there a brief snag because I don't have the proper paperwork for traveling around Russia. I share what I have and mention Moscow and that seems to fix the problem. I was wrong, I had put a temporary patch over a permanent problem. The patch would not last forever, or even the length of my stay in Kyzyl. The Russian bear lurks and I don't see or hear him. He will pounce when he is ready, and not before. But that is for a later blog entry. Tonight I am in Kyzyl! My compliments Proffessor F.!
