Irkutsk

After a skype call with my research partner and research advisor my ride came to pick me up and take me back to Irkutsk from Listvyanka, the vilage on Lake Baikal. Had a pretty chill day before catching the train at 10pm. That's where I am now, on my last leg of the Trans-Siberian :( to my last Russian town, Ulan-Ude (Mongolian for 'Red Tree' oddly enough). Today I saw some cool stuff. The Irkutsk Art Museum, and some of the original wooden architecture Irkutsk houses. The art museum even had a couple of exhibits of Mongolian and Chinese art.

The further I go east, the more Mongolian it gets. Mongolian words are slipping into street and city names, some of the foods are showing up in the cafes, and a huge percentage of people in Irkutsk are Mongolian. Of Mongolian origin that is. They don't speak Mongolian at all, they look just like they were transplanted from Choibalsan, Mongolia (Not Ulaanbaatar because UB is mostly Khalkh Mongols and Choibalsan is more Buryat ethnicity). They speak Russian because their ancestors just happened to live north when the borders were drawn. It's a little weird to me to see them and know that they wouldn't understand if I started speaking Mongolian. Siberia has an interesting biracial dynamic with the Russians and Mongolians. I think it's the most similar situation I've seen to America yet. Although, France does have a lot of people of Arab, and African descent.

Huge Juice Box

Anyway, I think it's time that I now leave you with yet another sketchy food story. I haven't even scratched the surface with these yet. For what this blog is becoming, it should be properly renamed. Or maybe turned into a book. Maybe something like, "Interesting food, I lived to tell about eating." Or maybe, "Sketchy times, sketchy people, sketchier food." Maybe you can suggest a good title. Anway, without further ado...

So, a couple of hours ago I'm thinking, "Hmm, what do I want to eat for dinner. I have a train to catch soon so maybe I'll just get something quick. Should I grab something at 'Domino Pizza?' That could be fun, or should I try and see if my equation still holds that 'Israeli Shwarma > Siberian Shwarma' (And it's not even close. Here they put this like really saucy carrot cole slaw in it, and roll it in a crepe...not cool Siberia. Not cool) ...wait, I smell something good." So I pop into this stand right next to a bus stop, and peruse the menu. As I may have mentioned, I can barely get myself water, and to the toilet in Russian, so I might as well throw darts at the menu.

But anyway I notice 'perogi,' which, if it's anything like the perogi they have in Pittsburgh, it will be a flour dumpling with some goodness in it. So I order me a Perogi. Then I get a little sketched out because the lady there puts something in the microwave. (This microwave thing has happened a couple of times the past week) Sketchy. Then she hands me this huge loaf of bread. mmm. Looks good. Smells good. It's warm. Good choice I have made. So I head close by, and sit next to the bust of Josef Stalin on Lenin street to start enjoying my perogi. Mmm, there IS some goodness in it. There's some baked onions, and some meat. Mmm. Wait. I see something shiny. This meat is fish. There's a whole fish baked into my loaf of bread. Sketchy. I was so hungry I didn't care though. Until I started to get full, and the sketchiness that was this food started to enter my brain. Luckily I was distracted by the Elders who walked by again and I shoved the rest in my mouth as I ran to go chat with them. I like to think that fish perogi would've been Jesus' favorite meal. Convenient for feeding 5,000.