While I was still in Ulan Baator, Mongolia I attempted to update my journal. The power went out just before I finished and I lost about 40 minutes worth of work. Well, I just spent half an hour updating my journal again, but the entry was erased by the inadequate computer or connection or just by bad luck.

Anyway, I am well and safe in Vietnam. Perhaps I will try to update again, but I am very frustrated at this point and may not. Please check back from time to time. I will certainly update when I return home.

Thanks for all your emails and comments.

Like a Rhinestone Cowboy, getting cards and letters from people I don't even know...

A covered version of this classic blasted from the radio as we had a blissful Italian lunch in a little bistro in Ulan Baator. It was odd. The food was amazing though. After eating scant meals and drinking barely enough water for days, to be able to sit down to spinach pasta with mushrooms, tuscan soup and lemonade... One thing to be said for travelling in a place where your options are limited, when you have the opportunity for real food again it tastes heavenly. It was like we were eating for the first time.

Ulan Ude was a disaster, as all things had been in Russia. Our books indicated that from the station we should cross the footbridge, walk 150 meters and turn down any street to the right into the town square. Well, we set about to do so in the darkness of early morning. The square was nowhere to be found. Some people were uninterested in even taking a moment to try and understand what we were looking for (the huge statue of Lenin's head, which is the centerpiece of the town). Two hours later, it dawned on me that there was a whole other side of town across the train tracks and we had been wandering on the wrong side of them. The books never mentioned that this other side (with its own markets, libraries, hotels) existed!

I am going to have a Lonely Planet book burning session when I return home. Never have I been so consistently misguided!

By the time we did reach the hotel we had missed the first bus to the Datsam (a Buddhist monastery 60km from the city). We walked to the bus station where I talked to the bus driver. He did not really speak English, but we seemed to have an understanding. I asked him times for Ulan Ude to Datsam and then Datsam to Ulan Ude, gesturing with my arm "there" and "back". He even took a piece of paper and wrote down the times, listing one column Ulan Ude and one Datsam. Oh, why do I even bother with the long explanations? After rushing around the temples to insure that we caught our bus back to the city, we just sat at the entrance and waited and waited and waited. FOR THE BUS THAT WOULD NEVER COME. The buses apparently don't run back from the temples. We caught a ride with some guy(!?!?!) to a local village and took a minibus from there.

Then we had to trek to the train station to buy our tickets. We found a market where I bought some bread and tuna fish (protein, protein, protein, my body screams). The fish was so vile and tinny that I could not eat it.

The provodnista put us in the wrong cabin when we got on the train, some bureaucratic business to do with what I'm sure were illegal, undeclared goods hidden all over the carriage. We shared a cabin with a nice enough Mongolian woman who had a friend visiting at every possible moment. During our nine (yes, that says nine) hour border crossing (frequently disturbed by the train's random, halting advances, which tossed us around the cabin like rag dolls) we watched people hiding boxes of fur hats or fish tails or whatever they need to smuggle in underneath the train, in overhead bins, in the toilet, out the back of the carriage, everywhere! It was quite a juggling act.

When we finally did arrive in Ulan Baator we got in a taxi with a hideous old cackling witch in traditional dress. We agreed on 500 togog, which was more than fair. When we arrived and I handed her the bill she started ranting about dollar, dollar. She expected us to pay five dollars each to ride about a kilometer! Bah! I took two dollars out of my case and showed it to her. She balked. She indicated that we should get back in the car. Fine! Calling her bluff we did. She didn't turn on the car, just blubbered about five dollar. We just sat there. I showed her the money in my hand. "That's it," I said. She got out again and went around to the trunk. I told her to open it. She wanted the money so I handed it to her. She motioned to Kip, like "Now where's YOUR money". We said "No, that's all!" She had the key in the trunk so I went to open it. She slapped me! She ranted a minute more and then probably remembered she had a child on the stove for breakfast and it was all but ruined so she'd better rush home. She opened the trunk and we grabbed our things. She took off mumbling.

Of course the door to the hostel was locked and there was no notice explaining how to enter the building. There was no bell. Naturally our books were useless. We waited until someone came out, which allowed us entry into the building, and found the guesthouse on the second floor. After a nap and a shower (aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh) we went out to find the international railway booking office, another display of how maps in our guidebooks are far better suited for toilet paper than anything. We have to go back tomorrow to find out about tickets to Beijing as they do not go on sale until the day before departure. Keep us in your thoughts as we attempt this simplest of tasks, which will no doubt cause us great undue stress...

Anyway, this leads me back to our Italian restaurant. Ah the delight. It was, sadly, the highlight of the day. More from the far side of the world tomorrow...

You'll see me off in the distance I hope
At the other end of the telescope .

I sat on a stone wall at the edge of Lake Baikal today. It holds 20% of the world's fresh water and is the deepest lake in the world. One day it will split the Asian continent and become another ocean. There were snowy mountains along the far shore. Waves were crashing upon the smooth rocks, that formed a rough beach, and dragging them backwards into the water. The sound of tumbling stones brought memories of Acadia, the coastal national park near mum's house in Maine.

Later we sat in a cafe in Listvyana watching the last blaze of the sun. Outside there were a dozen merchants selling hand carved boxes, dolls and charms. A handful of fish sellers slowly smoked their daily catches (their smoked fish is a local specialty). We had just been wandering all day.

We are heading tomorrow to Ulan Ude, our last destination in Russia.

And Now for Something Cheerful

We were so lucky to wake up every morning in our own private cabin. The extra space was a real treat for us and the precarious upper bunks allowed me to exercise my monkey-like climbing skills. Our lovely provodnista let herself in with water and breakfast each morning like a ninja, quiet and undetected. Her husband, also working on the train, fell in love with Kip and would proclaim "Cat-a-rine!" whenever she went down the carriage aisle to fetch hot water. Our neighbour was an odd, string bean of a Russian (to whom Kip bestowed the name "Igor"). Igor sported a monstrous black eye and what seemed to be a permanent state of intoxication. He came to us one day and asked to sit down, in Russian, which needless to say we do not speak. I do know how to say one thing in Russian, however, and that is "I do not understand Russian". Pretty straight forward if you ask me. And he certainly understood the comment, because he said back to me "You don't understand". Then he proceeded to rant and cackle and blubber about god knows what. It took forever to get him out of the cabin. And he would come back from time to time, pounding on the door and when that failed to result in it being opened, he would just try to open it himself. It was annoying but, lucky, didn't upset or concern me.

Being on the train was wonderful. Sometimes I would wake up if we stopped in the night and gaze at the fat, powdery snowflakes cascading from the sky. There were often small village lights twinkling like beacons in the distance. Sometimes we would be at a station where people in thick coats and furry hats were bustling between platforms and carriages, loading, unloading, watching like me.

I will not ever forget the sensations in my body the moment I saw the Northern Lights in Iceland. I was making dinner and I saw a flash peripherally, almost like lightning. I put on my coat and walked to the back courtyard and it was just there. It was an icy cold outside, but still and utterly silent. I remember thinking how strange the silence was, as we were in the midst of the country's capital. It was all around me. Delicate, misty green, blue and rose hues. Whispering across the abyss of darkened sky. Like a paintbrush stroke from horizon to horizon. Or sometimes like a swirl of gasoline in a puddle. Occasionally it would give the illusion of a waterfall, reaching for the earth. I laid on the frosted grass and it crunched beneath me. I was grateful and ecstatic and overcome by the unpredictability and wonder of it. It was such a mysterious occurrence and there I was at the end of a brilliant year's journey, completely filled with joy in a way I hadn't been before. I know I was crying. I think I was laughing through the tears. I was not prepared for the enormity of it, the power of the spectacle.

I remember feeling that kind of awe once when I truly understood the existence of Siberia. I wasn't sleeping most nights. I would lay in a tangle of thought and try to will myself to just rest. One night I had the NASA channel on TV. (This is a great feature of central Florida living.) A satellite image panned across an aerial view of a desolate land, occasionally crossing a river, a marsh, a cluster of trees. "Eastern Siberia" read the caption along the bottom of the screen. The shot swept along this barren expanse for fifteen minutes or so and then moved on to a more hospitable region. Never had I felt so represented. My whole state of being had just been paired with a stretch of land, like a separated twin.

Luckily, I don't feel barren and cold and wasted, as I did in that time. But I have never let go of that desire to visit this vast, completely foreign area of the world. It was so incredible to me that I could sit and watch it pass by my window!

I was surprised every morning by the shapes and colours out the window. I expected this part of Siberia to be very flat, monotonous and colourless. But we were constantly atop a hillside, gazing over golden fields, chocolatety crop yards of tilled earth, hoary white birches with a shock of tiny red leaves, deep indigo ranges under a powdery blue sky in the distance. In many ways I was reminded of some of the plains of Northeastern Australia.

Now we are in Irkutsk. Everything I own is filthy, except for a thin linen skirt, brought along for the warm, sticky days in Vietnam. I put all my clothes in to be washed, so I had to wear that knee-length skirt (or a bathing suit!). I thought I could get away with it, as it was unseasonably warm and sunny today. Well, everyone was looking at me like I was dressed in a neon green and orange tutu. It's ridiculous how fashion conscious people are, even in Siberia...

Hop Along Express

We had a busy day of sightseeing in Moscow, but I honestly don't have the heart to write about it. In all, what I saw of Moscow was disappointing. Maybe we tried to do it too quickly, maybe I was expecting too much. I do know that we were disheartened on many occasions when our maps and guides failed us and we were sent on a maze-like journey to the simplest of destinations within a major city. Anyway: Kremlin, Red Square...

We got to the train station that night and stood aghast at the hoards of travellers with mountains of luggage. I am absolutely not exaggerating. It brought to mind the school yard "king of the mountain" game. And you could easily have hopped aboard one of these piles of bags and been lost for many months. We were anxious about getting on the train and securing an area for our bags, knowing we might be sharing space with anyone of these groups for several days. We stared expectantly at the notice board, waiting for our train's gate to be announced. Finally it was and there was a great, speedy migration in that general direction. Well... as fast as you can go with a cart piled to the clouds with bags. When we finally did get into our cabin on the train we hurriedly unpacked necessities for the night, tucked our bags beneath the seats and sat politely, waiting for the onslaught of the herd... It never came.

This will be quick. I will drag my journal in on my next opportunity to sit in front of a computer.

Tomorrow we are leaving from Moscow for Irkutsk. It is a five day train journey, so it will be almost a week before my next update.

We spent a wasted day in Moscow, running around like decapitated poultry in a bilet yard, looking for train tickets. Or at least an English speaker, or even Russian speaker willing to make some effort. We found tickets at our hostel (incidently where we had WOKEN UP.) At least our beds are soft, though the room is a constant 55 degrees.

There will be something positive in the next installment, I promise...

Why Didn't We Do This Trip In Summer?

There certainly are a lot of reasons. But it's hard to think of them when your bum is freezing, your neck feels like pins and needles and your head is steaming...

However, St Petersburg is more lovely every day. Today, much to our delight, was sunny though bitterly cold when the breezes blow. We took the metro to city centre. It is so familiar and natural now. Strange how easily one can acclimate. We walked down Nevsky Prospect, across the bridge to Peter and Paul Fortress. The Romanov remains we hurriedly moved to the cathedral here from the Ekatarinburg mineshaft they were found in in the 1990's. There is a small shrine to them, but nothing spectacular. Apparently Yeltsin asked for ten million dollars for the transfer and ceremony, but was only given one million. That aside it is an impressive cathedral, intricate angelic paintings on the ceiling and ornate golden shrines and statues.

The surrounding area includes a fortress wall, prison, commandant's house (featuring artifacts from St Petersburg's history) and a rocket/space museum. We walked out to a pier off of the fortress wall and saw people leaning against the stones half naked, sunbathing. I think one woman was topless! It was bizarre, but Kip said she had seen it in a travel video and it's quite common for people to be catching rays out there all through the year.

All in all an interesting experience and I'm glad we were "forced" into spending another day here.

We hop a train to Moscow in the afternoon tomorrow and will be in that evening. I'm sure we will find a place to get online there, so more from me in the next few days.

Thank you all for your notes and emails. It is so important to hear from all of you while I travel.

We are visiting the Hermitage today. Actually, I'm there right now... It is a massive collection of art in a magnificent palace. The arches, columns and wall/ceiling painting changes so drastically from room to room that each seems to float like an isolated island between centuries and cultures. We just went through the Roman collection, which always fascinates me. The staterooms are also extraordinary. To think people lived in this palace is overwhelming.

My mind is not working very well today as my bed has a horrendous slab of granite for a mattress. My whole body is aching! We may head to Moscow tomorrow, but more likely we will stay another night to visit the Peter and Paul fortress.

This is a quick update. We are safely in St Petersburg, enjoy mild weather as we wander through the city centre. We took an overnight bus from Tallinn, Estonia and crossed the border early this morning. It was uneventful and we weren't questioned at all by the border guards.

Our hostel is... interesting. The hallway walls are a strange pepto bismol colour with what looks like a spitball accent. As in all of Russia we were advised not to drink the water and I spent my shower with lips tightly pursed, trying to dodge drops.

St Petersburg is just like any other European city, Kip commented. And, aside from the confusion of cyrillic signs always in our vision, that is true. I am feeling comfortable and safe, not to mention a lot warmer than I had intended. We are doing well, navigating the city and the metro. This is due mainly to Kip's organization. I tend to just instinctually choose my direction, but she is much more sensible!

We are going to visit the Hermitage tomorrow and head to Moscow the following day.

fly away
from the road where the cars never stop going through the night
to a life where I can watch the sunset and take my time .

Wow. Only seven months since my last post... Not missing anything THERE, are we?

In that time I've moved in and out of Hillsborough NH, Milford NH and Cape Coral FL. The last one will become permenant if I can only survive the next couple of months.

At this moment I am at Kip's house, just outside of London. We are having an uneventful visit but preparing for a great adventure. On Thursday we are flying to Tallinn, Estonia. That night we'll catch a bus to St Petersburg, Russia. From there we board a Trans-Siberian train and head east. We'll eventually cross Mongolia into China, head on to Vietnam, through Cambodia and fly out of Thailand. Not bad for six weeks.

I will be updating as much as possible. And I'll try to throw in tastes of what my life has been like the past half year or so. Only the happy parts, I promise.

I hope everyone is well. If you are reading this and we've lost touch please leave a comment or email me your address. Who knows what kind of exciting mail you could receive!

Please come to LA to live forever
California life alone is just too hard to build

cooooooooooooooooold.

it has been at record lows in new england this past week or so. the wind chills have put many days at a negative 30 to 50 degrees (i'm not talking celsius, southern hemisphere people).

fritha and i drove up to maine with her six year old son to inherit a dying computer from my mum. for the last hour of the drive there was something caught in the vent and it shot burning rubber flakes and smoke at us, which had to be tolerated or we would have frozen!

it was so good to see mum. she adored rowan, as did nana. in the morning mum took us around schoodic point. the air was colder than the arctic atlantic and it steamed above the waves. the shoreline was covered in sheets of crusty, salty ice. the clouds rose into cyclones on the horizon. rocks and trees were shining with the crystals of ice and snow. i have never seen such an intense winter display.

our ride home was uneventful. the heater had worked out it's issues and kept us relatively warm as we battled weekend traffic.

wishing i was living in california. or australia.