AUTUMN IN SIBERIA
(conclusion)
Twenty-three kilometers from Ulan-Ude lies the Ivolginsky Datsan, a Buddhist temple which also has a school for those who want to became a Tibetan teacher or Lama.
Ironically, these Buddhist temples were commissioned by Lenin himself, who, during the lowest point in his career, attributed his fate to his persecution of religious groups. In 1927, the twelfth Lama of this Datsan, Dashi-Dorzho Itigelov, instructed his fellow monks to bury his body after his death and to check on it again after 30 years. After which, Itigelov sat in the lotus position, and while chanting the prayer of death, died in the middle of his meditation. The monks followed his instructions to the letter, and when his body was exhumed 30 years later, they were amazed to find none of the usual signs of decay and decomposition. Afraid of Soviet retaliation to their “miracle”, the monks reburied Itigilov’s body in an unmarked grave. Years later in 2002, the body was finally exhumed, still showing no traces of decay in spite of it never having been embalmed or mummified.
“The Bodhi, the tree under which Siddhartha Gautama Buddha received enlightenment, can be found here in Datsan. They got part of the tree from India and it miraculously grew,” Petr said, while I snapped a picture of the tree. It looked quite ordinary, but I felt something unusual while staring at the tree which was enclosed with glass walls. The Datsan is similar to the temples I saw in China and in Nepal, with large, revolving prayer wheels which were supposed to bring luck and prosperity if spun a number of times. At the middle of the temple complex, I saw a group of Chinese tourists closing their eyes with one arm outstretched, slowly walking a few meters towards a rock, attempting to touch it. “That is the imprinted hand of Buddha or some deity. It’s supposed to bring you luck if you can touch it with eyes closed,” Petr said. I tried walking towards it with unopened eyes, but missed. Guess I was unlucky or needed more practice.
At the souvenir shop, I got hold of a booklet entitled Buddhism Simplified. I finished reading the book that night and had a blissful sleep.
Early the next day, we had the chance to visit the culturally conservative religious group, the Old Believers Church. After 1666, this church separated from the official Russian Orthodox Church as a protest against church reforms introduced by Patriarch Nikon in the mid-16th century. Up to the present, Old Believers continue liturgical practices which the Russian Orthodox Church maintained before the implementation of reforms - like making the sign of the cross with two fingers, pointer finger straight, middle finger slightly bent; and having processions in a clockwise direction (instead of counter-clockwise) and non-shaving of the priest’s beard. These reforms were trivial and ritualistic but they vehemently objected to these changes, hence they were exiled to Siberia.
The Old Believers also have a long oral tradition, in speech as well as vocal music. Their songs are not pleasing to the ears, due to polyphonic dissonance- singing together in different pitches and in several voices. The themes of the songs are varied, from everyday songs to sacred works. Because of this unique tradition,
their oral and musical culture was placed on the Unesco list of Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity in 2001. Together with some tourists from Denmark, the priest happily toured us inside the church, where he answered several questions, after which, leaving the Danes behind, toured our group into the museum.
The museum was a picker’s paradise. Antique machines, clothes, books, icons, dinosaur bones and works of art from the 16th to the 19th century were displayed. The priest was very happy to hear that I came from the Philippines and told me he had never seen our currency before. I pulled out a P500 bill, and he was ecstatic, “First Philippine money,” he said while displaying it inside the glass cabinet in the museum. Ninoy Aquino would be proud.
At lunchtime, Petr was kind enough to invite me to his home to meet his charming wife, who is an employee of the Russian Central Bank, the Bank Russe. “Sounds like bankruptcy to me.” I said. Peter chuckled. At their table, I had my first taste of omul- a salmonid fish found only in Lake Baikal. It can be eaten raw and dipped in vinegar like our famous kinilaw; or salted then fried, much like labtingaw but more chewy. The beetroot soup with pork called borsch, was so delicious; it tasted like tomato soup on steroids. Petr also made a unique juice concoction of cranberry and strawberry which they drink when they have a colds or throat infection.
High point
In the restaurant where we dined that evening, I had a taste of Russian beef stew, Buryat dumpling, mutton and kvas, a fermented bread drink which tasted like Dr. Pepper, iced tea and lemonade combined.
I couldn’t sleep well that night since the temperature dipped to zero degrees. Siberia has a steppe climate, where there are large fluctuations in temperature within the day. In these types of places, it is not uncommon to have a 30-degree afternoon turn into a sub-zero evening.
The following morning though, it was a sunny 17 degrees, and I was so excited over my trip to Lake Baikal, a two and a half hour drive from Ulan-Ude. It was, after all, the highlight of my trip! The scenery was refreshing, seeing hues of orange, yellow and viridian. Autumn in Siberia is such a beautiful sight! About halfway to our destination, Petr pointed to the abundant marijuana plants growing spontaneously by the roadside. “No one touches or uses them here; we just let them grow until they die during winter.” We stopped for a picture, so for awhile, I was fullyimmersed in marijuana bushes.
Lake Baikal is the largest freshwater lake in Eurasia and the oldest and deepest lake in the world at more than 5,000 feet. It has several endemic flora and fauna like the nerpa (seal) and omul (salmonid fish) and was declared a Unesco world heritage site in 1996. The water of the lake is distinguished for its exceptional clarity and cleanness. My guide said that in the past, Russians preferred to call it “sea” rather than “lake” due to its enormity, until someone discovered it was inland.
I met a fisherman by the shore, with his wooden boat, and had pictures taken with him. Lake Baikal was a sight to behold, and I felt so peaceful while I was standing on its powdery, aureate shores. It has a vibrant lakeside community with various parks and campsites for visitors and backpackers. The area also has a hot spring, which truly lived up to its name since I could only immerse a foot in the water for two seconds - it was simply intolerable.
For almost five months in a year, Lake Baikal is covered in ice. The freezing takes place in the middle of winter, then it starts melting around May. I can just imagine how breathtaking the sight is at this time.
Safe haven
The next day, Anatoly, Petr’s co-teacher, told me that he had told his class at the Lyceum for the Gifted Children that he had actually met and talked with a Filipino doctor. The class didn’t believe him because they had never seen a Filipino in Ulan-Ude before, so Anatoly invited me to speak to the class to prove to them he was not lying. The next day, I met the class of curious 12-year-olds who asked me questions like: “What’s the weather like in your country?,” “Why and how did you come here?,” “Do you know any Russian words?” They were so happy to talk with me despite the language barrier. I showed them a picture of a tarsier on my phone and they were elated.
I learned from Petr that during the Cold War and even up to the late ‘90s, no foreigners were allowed to enter Ulan-Ude because the Soviets made an underground evacuation “city” for their presidents, ministers and important military men, in case of a nuclear attack by America. “Can you take me to this underground site?” I suggested. He just smiled. So I was technically speaking, in the safest place in Russia after all.
My three-day stay in Siberia felt too short, especially since I was having a fantastic time. Petr drove me to the airport and escorted me to the departure area. He never left my side until my flight was confirmed and I was ready to go. It was a long wait at the airport before boarding, and sensing that he was tired, told him, “You can go Petr, I’m okay here.” “No”, he said, “I want to make sure that I see you leave because you might be calling me back to inform me that you haven’t left due to some unforeseen circumstance.” “How much do I owe you for this trip?” He just smiled and wished me a pleasant journey.
Again, I got into a bit of trouble at immigration since a guard dog started sniffing me. Maybe there was still a trace of marijuana in my jacket? But I got through after some time and boarded the plane without incident.
In my blog, The Anthem Philatelist, I dedicated an article to Petr on his birthday and called him “The Russian with a Pinoy Heart.” This really describes him best because he is not your typical Russian. He really went out of his way to make my trip worth the time and effort I put in it. Indeed, in this wonderfully cold Siberian city of Ulan-Ude, I felt the “warmth” of the place and of its people, and I can now say, I found a friend.
“Why do you travel, Vicente?” Petr asked. “Life is a book, and those who don’t travel only read a page,” I replied.
*Because of this trip, I was unable to attend the tribute party for my gastro mentors in celebration of the 30 years of gastroenterology fellowship training program in Cebu, so I would like to take this opportunity to say thank you to Dr. Potenciano Larrazabal, Dr. Lamberto Garcia Sr., Dr. Teresito Gabutin, Dr. Gerardo Ypil, Dr. Pek Eng Lim and Dra. Judy Lao-Tan for teaching and inspiring us. Dr. Lamberto Garcia, you were one of few doctors who were insistent and prodded me to continue on when I wanted to quit residency training, and for this, I am forever grateful. Again, thank you very much dear mentors. We are where we are today because of you.