Deep in Mother Russia

I’m not sure what was supposed to get better, according to our truck driver friends, but it certainly isn’t the roads. We have officially crossed into Asia and the landscape is incredibly barren but beautiful. It’s so much more idyllic away from civilisation, the towns tend to have a rather pungent smell and the roads are filthy. So much mud and dirty water it’s no wonder the people don’t smile. Roadworks are painfully slow and we are taking on board that the Russians are an incredibly impatient bunch. More than once whilst waiting at road work lights, all in an orderly queue, did a flash car rip up the outside and try and squeeze their way to the front. The problem is, people let them. Well, you can have your flash car but we all know who would come off second best if you try to nudge in front of Maggie!
Speaking of Maggie, she had her first moment of glory. There we were driving along, minding our own business when we see a man on the side of the motor way waving us down. We slowed down and pulled off the road. It was clear then that him and his mate had been in the forest cutting wood and their truck was stuck. You didn’t need to speak the same language to figure out what they needed. Being the decent people that we are (and in the hope of putting some traveller karma in the bank), Hayden manoeuvred Maggie down the slope and the old boy attached the rope. In a matter of seconds and a big grunt from Maggie, they were free and ready to make their way home.
Novosibirsk is the third largest city in Russia, and therefore the biggest in Siberia. It is only a new city and one of the fastest growing in the world. It is a little over one hundred years old and was built around the train station and now has the biggest station on the Trans-Siberian railway. The people are trendy, the young can speak a fair bit of English and are kind. The architecture reeks of the Soviet Era and we are baffled by what people do to entertain themselves (and where the hell they get these trendy clothes from!!). They also apparently have a big rugby following. It’s actually not that big. I’d say rather non existent. Thinking this was our best opportunity to find somewhere to watch the World Cup we headed to a restaurant known for showing sport. Now, why would you show the Rugby World Cup when you can show the National Ice Hockey League instead? To be fair, it was the local team playing (and at home) and I have never seen so many waiters standing and watching TV whilst ‘working’. In all honesty, I like ice hockey and nothing beats watching sport with passionate fans (and the service was still impressive despite their TV watching).
On our way out of Novosibirsk we came to an old train yard full of old trains AND old cars. Hayden was like a small kid on Christmas morning, or rather, for those Big Bang fans, like Sheldon Cooper! So many trains, so many cars. I guess if the city has built its livelihood around trains then they should have a shrine to them.
Driving on, the drivers appeared to actually be getting worse. After a while, we figured out the very obvious reason for this. They are on the wrong side of the road. It turns out that 84% of cars in Novosibirsk are right hand drive. This may seem shocking (it did to us), but when you think about it, it makes sense. They get the cars cheap from Japan. It’s a shame the cars don’t come with driving lessons. They sit right in the centre line as they don’t always have the convenience of a passenger to help them see when it is safe to overtake, nor do they have the common sense to pull back in if there is oncoming traffic. It seems the rule is that once you have pulled out, you carry on and hope for the best that you have judged the distance. On more than occasion we some some very close calls, very close.
Now, just when we thought we were fed up with the Russians, finding their driving style arrogant and selfish, we came across a lovely man in the car market. We had stumbled on this place by accident – we had arrived in Barnaul in the dark, so in the light of the morning we discovered it across the road. We were looking for a funnel that would enable Hayden to put oil in the gearbox without having to turn himself into a contortionist. We found one and it turned out the owner of the stall could be speak English and after our conversation about our travels he shook his head when I went to get out my purse to pay him, repeating “no, no, no, it’s a present, a present”. A plastic funnel is not an expensive item, but his thought began to redeem our faith in his people.