In the misty, cloudy morning we came to Irkutsk. It is Wednesday morning - we took train in Moscow at midnight on Saturday night. On the platform, a lady in her fifties held a sign with my name on it. Her name was Helen. She was very friendly and introduced herself to us, talking in Russian to Josie as we made our way to her car. In the car she switched to excellent and unaccented English to address us all.
She took us to a "homestay". And what a place - it was a well-appointed top floor flat, the home of a lady called Tanya, her husband, and their youngest daughter. It was clear from the furniture and bits and bobs lying around that there were absent grown-up children.
We had separate rooms, which was a pleasant surprise. I had a little triangle shaped room off the kitchen, with pretty ladybird wallpaper, gold stars on the ceiling and good fittings and furniture.
After freshening up we all went out into the chill morning (it had been raining hard during the night) to look for breakfast. The centre of Irkutsk seemed rather dismal and uimpressive at that or indeed any hour. We settled on a cafe called "Travellers Coffee", which was rather more up-market than the name implied. It was still cheap - nearly everything on the menu, whether it was coffee, cakes, breakfast, or pastries, seemed to cost between R150 and R200 - around about £3. We ordered an Omelette Royal, an English breakfast and a "Bavarian" breakfast, two sides of fries, a macaroon and a cookie, and six Americanos, and the bill was about £30. The coffee was particularly good. I learnt something today, which was that the Russian surname "Korolyev" means "Royal" - from Russian for "king" (korol), which must have its roots in some middle-ages reference to Charlemagne...
From the cafe we walked to the Angara river. A cool summer breeze was blowing as we explored an almost deserted holiday park called "Youth Island". From there we worked our way along the river to the main bridge. The Angara river at this point is many hundreds of metres wide, much wider than the Thames at Westminster, and comparable with the Mersey at Runcorn or the Tyne at Wallsend. But this is a freshwater river thousands of miles from the sea! The sheer size of Russia can be seen in her rivers.
At the main bridge we took photographs. It is a piece of Soviet-era civil engineering. You can see this because the bridge is best described as "wonky". It was interesting to see that no-one stopped us taking photographs of the bridge - something that would have been somewhere between most unwise and completely impossible before 1990, even if a westerner had been able to visit Irkutsk back then.
Feeling jaded, we worked our way back to the main square, and we sat in the park enjoying some refreshing fizzy drinks, as light rain fell. Thus perked up, we went to see if the main tourist information centre was open. A sign said that it was - but the door was unwelcomingly closed. We pushed it open and passed within. Two ladies - neither were ethnic Russians but clearly Asiatic or perhaps of Buryat descent - helped us with our enquiries. We were dispatched by tram to the main railway station; this journey was accomplished for the princely sum of R2 (perhaps 5p) per head.
We had separate rooms, which was a pleasant surprise. I had a little triangle shaped room off the kitchen, with pretty ladybird wallpaper, gold stars on the ceiling and good fittings and furniture.
After freshening up we all went out into the chill morning (it had been raining hard during the night) to look for breakfast. The centre of Irkutsk seemed rather dismal and uimpressive at that or indeed any hour. We settled on a cafe called "Travellers Coffee", which was rather more up-market than the name implied. It was still cheap - nearly everything on the menu, whether it was coffee, cakes, breakfast, or pastries, seemed to cost between R150 and R200 - around about £3. We ordered an Omelette Royal, an English breakfast and a "Bavarian" breakfast, two sides of fries, a macaroon and a cookie, and six Americanos, and the bill was about £30. The coffee was particularly good. I learnt something today, which was that the Russian surname "Korolyev" means "Royal" - from Russian for "king" (korol), which must have its roots in some middle-ages reference to Charlemagne...
From the cafe we walked to the Angara river. A cool summer breeze was blowing as we explored an almost deserted holiday park called "Youth Island". From there we worked our way along the river to the main bridge. The Angara river at this point is many hundreds of metres wide, much wider than the Thames at Westminster, and comparable with the Mersey at Runcorn or the Tyne at Wallsend. But this is a freshwater river thousands of miles from the sea! The sheer size of Russia can be seen in her rivers.
At the main bridge we took photographs. It is a piece of Soviet-era civil engineering. You can see this because the bridge is best described as "wonky". It was interesting to see that no-one stopped us taking photographs of the bridge - something that would have been somewhere between most unwise and completely impossible before 1990, even if a westerner had been able to visit Irkutsk back then.
Feeling jaded, we worked our way back to the main square, and we sat in the park enjoying some refreshing fizzy drinks, as light rain fell. Thus perked up, we went to see if the main tourist information centre was open. A sign said that it was - but the door was unwelcomingly closed. We pushed it open and passed within. Two ladies - neither were ethnic Russians but clearly Asiatic or perhaps of Buryat descent - helped us with our enquiries. We were dispatched by tram to the main railway station; this journey was accomplished for the princely sum of R2 (perhaps 5p) per head.
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