A different side of Russia

Its wasn’t fear, it wasn’t exactly daunt, it wasn’t imperative, but it was necessary I had to cross into Russia, apprehension I suppose it was, a lone Italian biker I’d met had taken 9 hours to cross, this was to be my fourth entry, I’d never had an issue before but that was then and this is now.

So, I was up with the herders and though the little village that had become home between the cows and the snow-capped mountains. Up before the fuel stations opened so I couldn’t put my left-over Georgian change into the tank and useless as the coins maybe once I’ve left, I just can’t throw money away. One more photogenic church and I’m at the border and stamped out of Georgia. Then the no man’s land and despite being the furthest east so far this trip, I’m gifted another hour back to Bulgarian time, I’m probably going to need it.

Past the hopelessness of dormant trucks on one side and the brutality of gutted cars on the other. The waiting begins; the river is free to cross borders taking last night’s rain fall to Russia in a turbulent grey froth. The birds too are unrestrained; it’s only us humans who have boundaries and protocol. This border crossing is in a valley and the shadow falls down to the bottom as I free wheel forward a car length at a time. Just as the sun peaks over and shines on me I enter the canopy of authority. Border crossings are like flat pack assembly you could do it so much more efficiently next time. Inevitably I went to the wrong windows, filled the form in wrong and when handed to ‘teacher’ she marked it wrong gave me another form, and I had detention until I got it right which coincided with shift change. The toilets rated very high in the worst ever chart. Some French in a massive Unimog had been waiting 8 hours for the vehicle to go in the x-ray machine. I also found out that the border I want to cross later from Kazakhstan to Uzbekistan is closed to vehicles under 3.5 tons I’m pretty sure even with my appalling loading my KLR isn’t close to that.

Stamp, stamp and I’m in, only 4 hours later, and wait for the insurance kiosk to open with some other Europeans, they look at their phones, I look ahead. Jump on the bike and sure enough after 2kms I find a lady who gives me the last document I need. Some Armenian lads were in the office ‘are you not hot wearing that?’

‘The trousers are vented; air comes through when I’m riding’.

‘And the jacket?’

Not so much’ I say peeling off the sleeves.

Now I’m riding Russia at least 5kms of trucks waiting to cross into Georgia, God I feel for them. Rocky mountains and that same raging river but its all downhill and increased temperature all the way it Chechnya.

And that’s what I wanted to write about. Grozny designated ‘the most destroyed city on the planet’ by the United Nations…it got better.

So deliriously hot I ride into the city, high rises and well-behaved traffic. I find a hotel but it’s full, I’d already allowed myself the imminent fantasy of a cold soaking shower. The receptionist types something into ‘translate’ on his phone and shows it to me ‘there is hotel over the road that I will point with my finger now’ and as if the app is linked to his hand, he does exactly that, right across the reservation. Much like a border birds fly over easier then bikes cross. Once in the shade on this recommended building again I peel of all acceptable layers as I wait for the recaptioning to materialise. The Muslim lady had just had a lunch time shower to cool down. Tells me the price, gives me a key, points to a screen where I can see my bike on the CCTV, gives me a WIFI code and up I go. Oh, that shower, and the room has AC too…almost.

It’s easier to precure an extension lead than access the internet. In Russia the infinite internet is a leaflet. No Facebook or Instagram, no YouTube, or Pornhub… apparently. Booking.com doesn’t cover Russia and Zen Hotels who do can’t be accessed here. I can’t mine my crypto currency, I can’t see most of the overland sites to research this border crossing, not Kazakhstan train routes. Can’t access my bank account and when I do get close to some information I want, the link is blocked. So once both I and the day have cooled I hit the streets, Chechens are Muslim and I’m in humble awe. They are white Russians visually, a lot of the men have those Amish style beards with no hair below the bottom lip. Everyone in conservative dress, not shorts even, but man a lot of the guys have bulging biceps protruding from t-shirt sleeves, no tattoos though, no fatties, no graffiti, no drunks, no homeless, no dog shit, no barking, actually no dogs, no litter, quite large police presence but not in an oppressive authority kind of way, I think prided keeps the law intact anyway who can be intimidated by an Amish beard in a uniform, they just look huggable.

So friendly, the cars stop at crossing, doors are held open, my back is patted, no one speaks English but my understanding of Cyrillic and knowledge of the Bulgaria language helps me immensely, in fact I’d say I’m better understood here than in Bulgaria.

So, to back track a few days my phone got a system upgrade, lots no new icons and a different clock face, then I wouldn’t accept a charge. I got a new charger. While sitting at an outside restaurant the forecast thunderstorm blew in and the awnings automatically retracted there are a rush of diners into the restaurant. I had caviar what with being so close to the Caspian Sea, my card was refused by the machine and in the confusion I left my new charger behind.

20 minutes into my walk back I realised, went back and it was handed to me. Now I’m soaked, literally to the skin, ironic the first time I approached this hotel I all I wanted was a shower, now all I want is shelter. I couldn’t get any wetter, the lightening above mosques and high-rises. Branched blown off trees. Trying to keep my phone dry.

When I get back my locked and covered bike has been moved. Seems ok but the cover is off. Turns out it blew over, they all picked it up by whatever appendage they could find. I was ushered to put it under cover behind a shutter. Now my clothes are dripping in the dry ‘garage’. I’m shown a tumble dryer, she’ll put them in there if I like. The feeling of wellbeing, the friendliness, the graciousness, the proud but humble, unassuming people. I decided to stay another night just cus it feels so good to be around such people.

My phone is dead, I take it to a repair shop, the concur, I think it’s the system upgrade, but I can only half Google it. I’m shown a cordless charger, ok but I need to change money, the ATM won’t take my card I only have US $, it’s OK he’ll change them, we establish an OK rate and it’s below the actual rate so I haggle 500 rubbles off the charger. Then he insists on us having a selfie.

The place is not big on natural beauty it appears to be built on a hot flat plain but what they’ve done with the place in 25 years shows a pride and talent, the pedestrian areas and architecture are almost as pleasing as a snowcapped mountain. Also sometimes it can be embarrassing to display your wealth as an overland traveller in poorer countries so to blend in I’ve traded in my KLR.

There are still places on the planet where awe comes from the kindness of people, and to see the Foreign Office advises against coming here, man perhaps they should put Colchester on their list, the hostility in my hometown. This place is one of the most peaceful, polite and hospitably places I’ve ever been. You can get anywhere from here. More next week

Cheers

Graham