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Summer 2011: Kalmykia, Adygea, Abkhazia,…

June 12, 2011 in Russia, Summer 2011, hitchhiking | 1 comment

It’s been a long time since the last major hitchhiking trip. After Hörstel – Moscow in November 2010, I’ve been quite absence from the roads of Europe. Way too long, so to say. Lucky enough, summer vacation is coming around in about three weeks and it’s time to hit the road again. Unfortunately, this time it won’t be towards the European hitchgathering, which is held on August 5, 2011, in Kara Dere, Bulgaria.

Abkhazia

Abkhazia (Image by Olga Kozina, Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.5)

For July and August, my initial plan is to first hitchhike from Enschede towards Moscow as fast as possible. Not exactly Moscow, but a tiny, small village in the middle of a forest south of the Russian capital. So far nothing new, the road is well known to me already and can be labeled as “easy peasy” and “pretty boring”. Maybe, maybe I’ll do the route via Ukraine (Lviv – Kyiv) instead of the usual Lithuania – Latvia – Moscow. This might be up to coincidences, personal mood and the random spirit of hitchhiking.

(Note: If you’re having no clue what I’m talking about, check the map below for a rough orientation)

Afterwards, depending on the working schedule of Maria, we’re hitchhiking together (or me alone) south towards Abkhazia. Abkhazia is internationally recognized as part of Georgia, but considers itself an independent state. It’s status is only recognized by Russia, Nicaragua, Venezuela, Nauru and since about a week ago also by the pacific island state of Vanuatu. Anyway, unfortunately it’s only possible to enter this state via Russia, which at the same time means being illegal in Georgia. What I’ve read so far and seen on images regarding the nature and landscape of this part of the Kaukasus impresses me much, which is one reason to travel there. So, I hope to provide my readers here with a bunch of photography once I’m back. Lucky enough, we’ve got the internet in 2011, as they offer entry permit letters / visa by e-mail!

Temple in Kalmykia

Temple in Kalmykia (Image: Public Domain)

On the way there, options are quite open. Volgograd is one city worth visiting, mainly because of it’s importance (former Stalingrad) for everybody interested in modern history. Also a place worth to visit seems the Republic of Adygea with it’s beautiful mountain ranges.

Also on the list is the only Buddhist republic in Europe, Kalmykia. Yes, there’s a Buddhist republic existing on the soil of Europe! Russia seems to have to offer so much diversity, especially close to it’s Kaukasus regions, I could continue counting places to visit here endlessly…not to forget that we’ll pass Sochi for sure, but I’m not really keen on visiting that overcrowded holiday resort…

Afterwards, Maria and me will for sure hitchhike back to Moscow and then towards Moldova, passing Ukraine once more. I hope we get to visit the beautiful city of Odessa as well before heading westwards.

A lot of hitchhiking, hiking and wandering for such a short period. We try to keep you folks up to date here more frequently than we did last year, but well, on the road usual life, internet and all the rest seem so far away, though this time I’ve got to work on the road, so occasional internet connections are a pre. Let’s see how this works out.

Moskaus wunderschöne Märchenwelt

April 5, 2010 in Russia, hitchhiking | No comments

tea, anyone?, ursprünglich hochgeladen von platschi

Mit Streichhölzern in den Augen und gemäßigter Geschwindigkeit bewegen wir uns gen frühlingshaftes Berlin. Die Abenddämmerung tritt gerade ein, da fragen mich meine drei Chauffeure, ob ich nicht ihr Vehikel steuern möge. Man sei noch übermüdet vom Vorabend, Party in Amsterdam, und dann auch noch Frühschoppen auf den ersten Kilometern bis zur deutschen Grenze. So stellt man sich einen Wochenendtrip nach Berlin vor. Gerne übernehme ich also das Steuer, und alsbald bewegen wir uns wie Sternenstaub der weiten Galaxien entlang der Warschauer Allee.

Keine 24 Stunden später sitze ich in einem alten Volga, dem russischen Equivalent unseres Mercedes-Benz- zu jenen Zeiten als man diese Marke noch mit Technik in vollendeter Schönheit assoziierte. Draussen liegt der Schnee noch meterhoch, aber auch hier spürt man, dass der Frühling mit absurd langsamer Geschwindigkeit seinen langen Heimweg angetreten hat.

Zu lauschen bekommt man beim trampen nun nichtsdestrotrotz den neuesten Gossip der Grossstadt, und die hat es in sich. Da gibt es zu lauschen die Geschichte einer kleinen Schenke, versteckt im Wirrwarr der Betonklötze, die allerortens aus dem Boden ragen. An einem Dienstag, vor nicht allzu langer Zeit, wurde diese kurz vor Dienstschluss, morgens um sechs Uhr, von drei doch recht beschwipsten Polizisten heimgesucht. Deren Durst war zu früher Stund noch immer nicht gesättigt – oder die Vermutung liegt nahe, dass es sich hier um einen ersten (weiteren) Frühstückstrunk handelte – dass man die Bedienung genötigt sah, ihnen doch noch ein Gläschen Wodka anzudrehen.

Die drei Damen, deren Vorbereitungen zum reinigen der Schenke schon im vollen Gange waren, wollten sich dem aber nicht annehmen. Beamten sollte man hier nichtsdestotrotz mit erhöhter Wachsamkeit gegenüber stellen.

Nach mehrfachem auffordern der drei blauen Herrn zum Verlassen des Saales nahmen sich zwei diesem an – seinen Schnaps bekomme man schliesslich auch im Magazin um die Ecke.

Der dritte Beamte schien keinerseits angetan hiervon und begann heftigst zu diskutieren. Wie könne man denn einem hart arbeitenden Mann zu solch unmenschlicher Zeit seinen wohlverdienten Umdrunk verwehren? Nichts half, und so dauerte es keine Viertelstunde, bis es der Bedienung am Tresen zu bunt wurde. Kurzerhand wurde der Störenfried Mithilfe eines Humpen zu Boden gestreckt. Dummerweise verträgt sich Glas im Anflug schnellster Geschwindigkeit beim Aufschlag auf einen menschlichen Korpus ziemlich ungeschickt und zerspringt derweil, so auch in diesem Falle, und da hatten die Damen ihren Salat, blutgetränkt liegend vor ihrer Theke.

Die Damen sind seitdem natürlich nicht auffindbar.

Kurz darauf lies uns unser netter Fahrer und Geschichtenerzähler aus an der Pforte unseres Bestimmungsortes.

—

Das Tramperleben ist hart, und so machten wir es uns schon nach guten 70 km hinter Moskau in einem kleinen Café gemütlich. Auf das kostengünstige Frühstück wartend, lauschen wir den Verkehrspolizisten, die sich sichtlich gelangweilt auf den nächsten Einsatz vorbereiteten. Vorher wurde es sich natürlich noch in der hinteren Ecke des Etablissements gemütlich gemacht und ordentlich geraucht. Währenddessen betraten zwei ältere Herren das Café und machten und setzten sich hinter uns. Deren Gespräch kann man wohl kaum in Form einer kleinen Geschichte niederlegen, nichtsdestotrotz stutzen wir doch ziemlich.

Da wird der in der Lederjacke von seinem Kollegen doch tatsälich gefragt, ob er nicht zufällig einen Auftragskiller kenne. Er hätte ja schon Recherchen in seinem Viertel betrieben, und eventuell würde der ein oder andere Kerl in Frage kommen. Man sei sich nur noch nicht sicher ob dieser auch für den Job in Frage kommen würde. Vertrauensache ist da sicherlich ein Schlüsselbegriff.

Kein Problem, so sein gegenüber. Der Lederjackenträger kenne da eventuell wen, und werde in naher Zukunft wieder mit seinen Kontakten kommunizieren. Meine Übersetzerin flüstert mir den letzten Satz der beiden zu, dreht sich benommen und schockiert zugleich weg und beginnt daran an ihrer Borschtsch-Suppe zu löffeln. Dann mal flott weg hier, denken wir uns insgeheim. Das Frühstück war dessen ungeachtet trotzdem recht lecker.

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Passengers take your seat, please

February 28, 2010 in Russia, hitchhiking | 1 comment

You cannot really imagine the Russian roads until you’ve seen them. They go straight, straight forward for hours and days, just one direction with a village or city once in a while passing. Fortunately, the M9 is just some 600 km short until the European stronghold is sending its lights out in the air. But first things first.

Getting rides seems to be pretty easy today, the second lift appears just after a minute walking along the highway. A 7.5t truck, my favourite type of transportation next to old Lada cars. Alex, around 25 to 27 years old, and me are trying to communicate in Russian. Pretty successful, I have to admit. Even so successful that not even five minutes later he offers me his peace pipe to take a drag.

Both happy and enlightened we pass some hundred kilometres, during which Alex continuously tries to stop other 7.5t trucks and ask them drivers to give me a ride further along the way. Nearly everyone seems to get off the same junction as he does. He even called his boss, just to be told that two hours ago one of their drivers was heading towards Latvia.

I decline his offer for tea, having the flight and time-limit in my head. Fast good-byes, and I find myself along an empty police outpost somewhere in the middle of nowhere. Soon another driver stops, just in time before my nose got frozen again. This time we get stopped by the police, and a fifteen minute conversation between the officer and my driver starts. They argue heavily, lots of swearwords are falling, and nearly twenty minutes later my driver continues on his trip, obviously pissed off and still screaming for the next kilometres on. I don’t even dare to ask what happened or why we had to pay a fine.

Go, go, go!

Russia

Nevertheless, the flow of rides continues, and two rides later I’m along the road next to some gas station. Great spot, but sunset is close and I’m still some 250 km away from the border. But karma has a name, and this time it’s Sergej who is picking me up in his Latvian truck. And yes, he and his colleague, driving behind us, are going all the way to Riga! Hell yeah!

We stop in Veliki Luki for nearly three hours, but I have no idea what they both are doing. They leave the trucks at some parking, leave me the keys(!) and tell me to wait in a pub nearby. All I can do is sip my soup, drink tea and wait.

At some point they come back, and we continue our trip. We arrive at the border at 11 pm, just in time – one hour before my visa expires. You can already see the huge light instalments of the border from a twenty kilometres or more distance, as they are the only settlement around. A lot of pollution fulfilling the sky if you watched the darkness around you for some hours before, only seeing the light of the truck in front of you.

Sergej tells me to wait at the Latvian side, as it may take him only one hour today to cross the border controls. Nearly no trucks in the waiting line. What a miracle compared to the situation one month ago.

Crossing the border is again no problem, I even have time to joke and mess around with the Russian custom officers. Waiting is the biggest problem, as it’s again pretty cold. But after one month you nearly get used to minus twenty degrees. After some time, the second truck appears, telling me that Sergej has huge problems at the border. We have to wait, so his colleague opens a bottle of vodka and prepares some sandwiches for us. I have no other choice than joining him, as the traffic is immense around one o’clock at night, with no cars going anywhere into rural Latvia. That’s it, and at 3 am Sergej joins us, tired and not willing to end this night riding towards Riga. His colleague is drunk anyway. We didn’t even shared names, but soon I climb into the second bed of the truck, happy to have a warm cabin to sleep in, even without any blanket or sleeping bag it’s warm enough inside. My last thoughts before falling asleep were about some air plane, not even a three hour ride by car away, taking off in the morning, but again without me. Why the hell I spent my money on this, but whatever, the hospitable company around makes up for that for sure. Who cares, what counts is the moment and the experiences you make while travelling. That’s what we do it for.

At seven in the morning we wake up and soon continue the ride towards Riga. In between we have a delicious breakfast with caviar, sausages and bread in the cabin of the truck. This time the mission continues, the hitching is not over yet, the next morning I will have to hitch back all the way from Riga to Hörstel, together with Jona by my side, at least until Warszawa.

But that’s another long story.

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It's been a hard way back

January 27, 2010 in Russia, hitchhiking | No comments

In the early morning rain with a dollar in my hand
And an aching in my heart and my pockets full of sand
I’m a long way from home and I miss my loved one so
In the early morning rain with nowhere to go.

Cut on runway number nine, big 707 set to go
I’m stuck here on the ground, where the cold winds blow

(Bob Dylan — Early Morning Rain)

Dylan’s song is ringing in my ears on this early morning. All the people around me act like ghosts, aiming for their workplace to go. Day by day, always the same procedure. I wonder how many days, or even weeks, an average Muscovite spends underground in the metro during his busy, stressful life. Do not even think about it, seems to be the rule, and here I’m standing, Bob Dylan in my ears, trying to listen at least a bit due to the loud noise the underground train is producing.

Here I go, escaping this hole, but at the same time not able to leave at all. Up on the top, far away from the never-ending «ostorozhny, dveri zakryvaytsya», there as well a city of magic can be found, a city that catches you as long as you are willing to dive into its deepest spheres. It is, as it always seems to be on this planet, that the beauty lies hidden at places far away from the ugly concrete of the metropolis, not to be found by just walking around old soviet skyscrapers, rivers, parks or train stations.

While standing in the fully packed metro, driving more than an hour towards the hitchhiking spot in the west of town, the past month drifts through my thoughts. Yes, it’s the new made friends that made me love this place. Every little piece of it. Their love, their hospitality, the ability to even manage some free time between the twelve hour working shifts and three hours of metro travelling each day. It’s overwhelming, each time again. As soon as you manage to warm up hearts, the Russian soul catches you with all it’s overwhelming love and friendship. But let’s keep it real: Growing up in Germany, society teached me to be anxious about all and everything, complain about how bad everything is, work work work and don’t trust your neighbours anyway. Not surprising, it’s the same discovered here. Apartments locked even thrice or more behind thick and stable concrete doors. The career seems to be more important than anything else for many people. Luxury nonsense can be found everywhere next to the many homeless, sleeping outside at -20 °C, while people do not even deign to look at them. Tried to find some “normal” boots to buy, but all you find is crap for high-society ladies, good enough as long as it blinks and twinkles. It’s a cruel world, indeed. What to say? It’s not up to me to punish people now, so all I can do is go back to the real people; start hitchhiking, and try to figure out once more how withdrawn folks over here really are.

The bus line described on hitchwiki does not really stop next to the highway, and in the morning cold; it’s 8:30 a.m. and -15 °C something, it takes me fifteen minutes to walk through the high snow of this dirty, abandoned suburb of Moscow towards the holy highway M9. Now, up on the highway, traffic is huge. Imagine this, standing on a three-lane highway, waving your thumb! Nevertheless, within ten minutes seven or eight vehicles stop, but all of them only drove to the next village. At some point even two cars were stopping, and I even had difficulties to decide who to ask first. I wanted to go at least a hundred kilometers out of the suburbs, but decided to get into an old Volga car, though the driver tells me to drive only 30 km out of town. Who cares?

Enjoying this first ride back home, though the loved ones are left behind with every meter made. Feelings are mixed with such trips, but soon the adrenaline of hitchhiking pumps all through my blood, only seeing good spots, nice rides and Riga in front of me. I have exactly twenty-four hours to get to Riga, as at 9:05 am the gate closes and some time later my flight to Bremen starts. Indeed, a flight, ordered due to exams some days later. Against my principles, indeed, and soon I will learn that karma doesn’t like my weakness in following those principles at all. Wasn’t hitchhiking about freedom and “I don’t care whenever I arrive” ?

Anyway, we’ve been on the road now, and ride after ride I got out of the endless metropolis of Moscow, back into rural Russia, with horribly bad roads whose end is the horizon for the very moment, and behind, with endless forests and fields in all directions you look.

My driver leaves me out at a crossing in the middle of nowhere some 70 km behind Moscow. No living soul to see, and traffic already strikingly decreased to a few cars passing by every now and then. Walking through snow that is high up until my knees, a hard should not even a meter broad, waving the thumb in the cold cold air. This is adventure, this is awesome! Here we go!

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