A Siberian Explosion

November 7th, 2018

Written by George Balarezo, Intrepid Global Citizen

The Trans Siberian Railroad is legendary. It is the Jimi Hendrix of railroads. Connecting Vladivostok and Moscow over a distance that seems farther than it would take to fly to the moon, you could ride it for one week straight and be on the other side of the world’s most massive country. Riding on the Russian train is an experience not to be missed and mine was a mere 32 hours.

My goal was to cycle from Tomsk to the Mongolian border while going through the Altai Mountains. Before arriving at Tomsk I would need to travel 2,000 kilometers- a feat that was impossible to carry out by bicycle given the one month time frame imposed on my visa by the Russian authorities in Seoul.

Irkutsk was a grand adventure but now it was time to move on. I road my bike to the train station with butterflies in my stomach the size of Siberian eagles. I had just said goodbye to the friends that had helped me out in Irkutsk. Indeed the city of Irkutsk and its residents holds a special place in my heart. I felt like a high school kid again on the way to the big school dance. Instead of my full suit, I strapped on my quick dry shirt and hiking boots. The road was calling and my Russian sized wanderlust always answers. It was time to move on and ride in the Siberian countryside away from it all. First, I needed to take what locals referred to as “a short 32 hour” train ride.

My bicycle made its way onto the train with the help of the attendant. There was only one problem. The train car corridor was the size of a Vietnamese underground tunnel. How in the name of Mother Russia was I supposed to load my bike onto this car that was more narrow than Ghandi’s midsection after weeks of fasting? The last thing I wanted was to be the inconsiderate guy from across the world. At least most people so far took me for a local Russian as long as I kept my mouth shut. The attendant just pointed nonchalantly down the narrow corridor and waited for me to load my bike on. My bike banged against the railings and into the door of the other passengers’ dormitory. I regretted not having learned the Russian phrase for “excuse me” or “I am sorry” yet. This was not a good showing by the self proclaimed “global citizen.”

I finally loaded my bike on the car and found my dormitory room. A smiling middle aged women greeted me with unbridled enthusiasm and kindness. A younger blond haired woman with bright sky blue eyes looked at me with curiosity upon finding out I could not speak her language. These two women would become my travel companions for the next 32 hours, so I was delighted by their warm attitudes. I claimed the top bunk as I wanted to be the gentleman and offer the ladies the more convenient bottom bunks first.

It was already close to midnight when I settled in to my bunk bed. There was nothing left to do but crash for the night. The clanking noise of the rail car wheels hitting the track and the slight vibrations that accompanied it did not phase me at all. I blacked out for several hours and was awoken at 3AM by a bodily sensation much more intense than anything I had felt in a long time. All the water I drank before boarding the train caught up with me. Now I was about to explode and I could feel me face turning green with envy at everyone else who had emptied their bladders before boarding the train. The sounds of Russians snoring roared through the train car as I leaped off the top bunk and sprinted up and down the corridor looking for a place to take a leak.

The train car worker was the only one awake and my mission was to find him before warm yellow liquid made the train corridor a slippery, stank place for all. The man was in the back of the train eating a snack. The pain on my face spoke louder than any Russian words ever could. “Twalet?” I said. The Russian word for toilet came in so handy and had been a lifesaver until now. The man just looked at me stone faced and replied in a demeaning tone. “Twalet niet,” he said. The literal translation being- “toilet no.” He then walked me over to the train schedule and mentioned the Russian number for 35 minutes. I took this to mean that there was thirty five minutes left before the next stop. Thirty five minutes would be an eternity. I would be lucky to last another five minutes. My time bomb of a bladder was about to let loose right on the floor. I ran frantically up and down the train car corridor. This was a thirty two hour ride. Surely there had to be a bathroom on the train somewhere. How could people ride on this train for one week straight across the world’s largest country without using a bathroom? The thought of this train having no place to urinate was ludicrous.

A door appeared as I ran up the aisle looking for a bottle or plastic bag that would hold the liquid I was ready to spray out. What a predicament I found myself in. I grabbed the doorknob and tugged at it with all of my might. I felt like a police officer breaking into a home looking for a serial killer on the loose. I was about to go mad in a few minutes. My craziness would have landed me on the nightly news. I pictured a headline story of a man who terrorized a train by dousing everyone with smelly liquid. The door was locked and just as I was about to use brute force to bust in, the train started to slow down.

This was my big chance to relieve myself. I walked up and down the platform looking for a place to let myself rip. The train worker was a few meters away on the platform standing with his arms crossed while joking with another man. Once again I pleaded for help. “Twalet?” I asked while pointing in all different directions. Hopefully he could at least point to the correct direction and I could bolt into the bathroom before the train left again. He slowly glanced at me and did not answer. I repeated what I was looking for one more time as my face was now gleaming from sweat due to all of the pain that had overcome my body. This time the man started to speak. The words that came out of his mouth were like razor blades digging deeper into my wounds. “Twalet niet,” he said with no expression. This guy was messing with me the whole time and probably enjoyed watching me suffer.

The man next to him wreaked of vodka and smiled with concern. The stench of booze from his breath was overwhelming to my nostrils but his smile indicated that he was ready to give me a helping hand. The drunk passenger grabbed my arm and stumbled along while pointing at the staircase located right in front of us. All of a sudden I transformed myself into a cheetah and sprinted past the drunk man. The intensity of the raw pain gave me superhuman explosiveness. Moans of relief flew out of my mouth at decibel levels higher than the noise of a Trans Siberian rail car flying by at full speed. I felt more relief than a pregnant woman just after giving birth to triplets as I let all of the liquid fly. Several hours of built up tension were released at once. This indeed was utter bliss.

After letting myself go, I went back to my bed and slept like a baby Siberian tiger who gulped down several liters of mother’s milk. In the morning my bunk bed mates were ready to eat breakfast and motioned for me to join them. We spoke to each other for several hours using body language. One lady taught me the Russian alphabet with more patience than the Dali Lama. She smiled and laughed as she corrected my pronunciation. Before I knew it, my notebook was filled up with Russian numbers and phrases. She was the greatest companion one could ever meet on a 32 hour train ride. This lady was so optimistic and friendly that I completely forgot about the experience from that morning.

Nature came calling once again. “Here we go again,” I thought. Before stomping up and down the aisles creating chaos, I decided to try a different approach. Perhaps my new friend would be able to help me out. She led me to the same door that was locked early that morning and motioned for me to take care of business. This time the door opened into a full fledged bathroom! The man from last night was messing with me! There was a bathroom on the train all along. Early that morning, whoever was using the bathroom locked the door. The train employee just wanted to make my life miserable. If I would have waited a few minutes, I would have had instant relief. But no. My state of mind led me to the edge of sanity.

People are a mixed bag. The Russian railway worker was probably angry at the world and decided to take it out on me. I felt sorry for him. Anyone that treats their fellow global citizens the way he did is sure to have plenty of anger and hatred in their lives. Despite his passive aggressive behavior, I wish nothing but the best to him and hope he learns to deal with his problems in a more productive way. On the other hand, the woman I shared a bunk room with was marvelous. Through nonverbal communication we were able to enjoy each other’s company. People all have their issues and everyone resolves them in different ways. I was not going to let one guy sour my trip. There was a nice person waiting for me by my bunk bed ready to share her positive energy with me. Just having that 32 hour friendship was worth all of the pain I endured my first few hours on the train.

October 23, 2018February 12, 2021

Creating My Own Siberian Hell

Written by George Balarezo, Intrepid Global Citizen

I was warned about them from countless people before I left for Siberia. They can wreak havoc on you and ruin even the most romantic moments with your loved one. They attack by the thousands and never retreat until they meet their death from the Siberian winter cold. Poisonous snakes or spiders? Bears? Tigers? No, I am referring to an animal that has likely attacked anyone reading these words. The mosquito!

“Come on, mosquitoes? How bad can they really be?” I thought to myself. I have dealt with wild boars in the mountains of South Korea, was bitten by a dog in Western China and slept in the bush of Southern Africa with wild elephants, hyenas, hippopotamuses and lions. How bad could it be dealing with a few bugs here and there?

So far my bicycle took me to the woods around Lake Baikal and through the grasslands surrounding Tomsk and Novosibirsk. As I headed south towards the Altai Mountains, I hit the mosquito jackpot. If swatting mosquitoes were a sport, I became an experienced guru within a few short hours.

After leaving the small Siberian town of Barnaul, the horror began everyday after 8PM. They were waiting to feast on my blood like famished leeches. Siberia is known for its forests, and I am known for camping beside the road on my bicycle adventures, this would indeed be the perfect combination. After pulling off the road and into the vast wooded terrain, Alfred Hitchcock’s resurrection came into full light before you could say “lights, camera, action!”

The mosquitoes attacked me by the thousands. The man who does not believe in bug spray finally met his match. The Siberian heat left me moist and sweaty, while my diet of pancakes, cherries, plums, dates and nuts left my blood sweeter than a grandmother at the first sight of her newborn grandchild. In other words, I was ripe and ready to be eaten raw, one bite at a time.

Thoughts ran wild in my head. How would my $20 Namibian-made piece of plastic ever protect me from the wrath of thousands of mosquitoes? My tent has been with me for six long years and experienced plenty of wear and tear from its days in South Korean mountain ranges and previous tour cycling expeditions. It serves as my primary source of shelter while being my loyal sidekick while on the road. However, due to its experiences, it has accumulated several holes and a broken front door zipper, which means there are many gaps in the protective lining, more than big enough for mosquitoes to enter and feast on me for the night.

The first task was to set up my tent. Even though the sun was still blazing hot at 9PM, winter hat and gloves included, I covered myself from head to toe with layers of clothing I anticipated using during frosty Mongolian evenings. Now they served as mosquito protection. I chose to let the sweat drip rather than allowing the mosquitoes turn me into a corpse of rotten flesh. The tent went up successfully and the door zipped halfway shut. One by one, the sneaky little pests found all of the gaps in my tent and continued to wreak havoc. I suddenly lost control of my emotions and swatted away furiously at my unwelcome guests. “Die! Take that! I’ll show you who belongs here!” I shouted out loud as I swatted away like Jackie Chan in a one on one hundred battle. “If they see all of their friends dying one at a time they will get scared and leave me alone,” I reasoned. Unfortunately, my logic was greatly flawed and they continued to enter my sleeping quarters uninhibitedly.

I quickly realized this was a battle I simply could not win. Although minuscule in size, the pests outnumbered me by a factor of several billion. There was only one other option left- to let them enter freely and share my space with them. I would never make it to sleep if I continued karate chopping the small earthlings with reckless abandon. I calmed myself down and took refuge in my sleeping bag. While making sure to cover myself from head to toe with the sleeping bag, I closed my eyes and practiced several breathing techniques designed to slow down my heart rate. Normally, I fall asleep within minutes of this activity, but that evening I was much more wound up than usual. I slowed down my breath as much as possible and finally dozed off to the sounds of buzzing several centimeters distance from my ear lobe.

My eyes suddenly opened as the sunlight infiltrated my tent. “Morning! It is morning!” I screamed in delight. I survived the horror movie! It was five in the morning but I was anxious to get on the road. I was happy to have nature as my alarm clock. The mosquitoes had dissipated to a tolerable quantity and I hopped up on my feet faster than a cheetah who just spotted its prey. I covered myself from head to toe once again and packed up my bike at record speed.

It was 160 kilometers to the Altai mountains where rumor has it I would be able to sleep mosquito free. That day I cycled faster than “el chapo” Guzman fleeing from the CIA back to the Mexico border. I was simply too fast for the mosquitoes and left them in the dust. I set a new Russian cycling record of 160 kilometers on the day and made it to the pest free mountain range where the cool air enabled me to sleep like a college student the day after final exams finished.

Lesson Learned- Be the Thermostat and not the Thermometer.

The mosquitoes won. They had me distraught and swatting away like a martial arts world champion. There was simply nothing to do but give up. After all, I was a visitor in their territory. Who was I to think I would stand a chance in hand to hand combat against the forest keepers? I was in their house as an unwelcome, violent guest. It was a one billion on one battle and I was at an extreme disadvantage. There was simply no way to win and the only thing to do was admit defeat. Siberia is their territory and they also have a right to live and feast on visitors to their forests. They are also a key part in the local ecosystem and it was simply arrogance on my part to think I could walk into their territory and dominate them. Human beings were not put on earth to dominate all other species, we are here to live in harmony together.

As soon as I calmed down the mosquitoes became less and less ruthless. They accepted me as a guest in their territory by laying off during the night. They witnessed me change from an uncivilized beast to a well mannered global citizen. Even though I brought death upon several of them, they forgave me instantly and calmed down. I was the one bringing the violence and pain to hundreds of insects and it backfired on me. Frustration and anger got the best of me but those emotions did nothing except worsen the dilemma at hand. Just as in human relationships, when one party lets their negative emotions run wild, they become the thermometer instead of the thermostat, reacting to whatever stimulus is tossed in their direction. I became reactive just like a thermometer and was unable to control my temperature. The thermostat sets the temperature and is in control of everything. I lost control quickly and just brought more pain and suffering to myself. This was extremely childish and ignorant of me. Here I was claiming to be a pacifist and environmentalist while swatting away and murdering my fellow earthlings. My actions were the very definition of hypocrisy. All I had to do was get inside my tent and calmly cover myself with my sleeping bag. It was so simple. I had been doing this each night before, but now other earthlings were there with me together. We were meant to share the forest and we finally did once I wizened up and became a thermostat.

Be the thermostat. Don’t react negatively to the external environment. You will only end up losing in the end. The thermometer is nothing but a slave. Be the chief of your own worldly experience and peace, tranquility and a good night’s sleep will all find their way to you.

October 8, 2018February 12, 2021

Nearly Getting Beat Up In Irkutsk, Siberia

People Problems In Siberia

Written by George Balarezo, Intrepid Global Citizen

When on the road I typically carry no electronic devices except for my camera. I opt to leave my South Korean 2G phone at home and go completely off the grid. Of course the need for communication arises occasionally and my third evening in Irkutsk I found myself at an Internet cafe in order to inform my family of my safe arrival in Russia. The cafe manager was a straight forward guy who did not care about anything other than getting his 30 rubles (50 cents) from me. I had absolutely no problem paying him in order to help his business out financially. I tried to make simple conversation with him using my survival Russian skills, but he was not impressed and showed no interest in the North American guy hacking his language into tiny pieces. The scowl on his face said it all. I quickly took my seat and headed to my computer.

A guy named Nikolay sat next to me started talking to me in English. “Contact me if you need anything at all while you are in Irkustk. I am happy to help you,” he offered as he kindly wrote down his phone number. “By the way, have you seen the manager of this Internet cafe?” he asked. I looked around and saw the guy who matter of factly collected my 30 rubles outside working on his car. “There he is outside,” I replied while pointing in the man’s direction.

All of a sudden a volcano eruption started. The manager started shouting in my direction and I had no idea what he was saying. The man was ready to tear my head off. His quick trigger personality and defined shoulder muscles were more than intimidating. Nikolay calmly started to translate. “He said do not ever point at him again. He does not seem to like you very much,” Nikolay said. “Okay. Tell him I did not mean to offend him and I am sorry to hear he is upset,” I said trying to smooth things over. After all, I consider myself to be a cultural ambassador and did not want this man’s anger to get the best of me. The last thing I needed was to get beat up during the first few days of my trip.

My heart started to pound and I felt like I desperately needed to take action to resolve this dilemma. The man stomped in his cafe and continued to silently fume in anger. I turned to Nickolay and quickly realized I needed his translation skills to quickly smooth this one over. “Tell him I really like his cafe and want to come back again tomorrow. The Internet speed is great and computers are very well maintained. Please write down the address of your cafe in Russian so I can find this place again easily,” I said. Nickolay was happy to help me out and swiftly relayed the message to the cafe owner. The rough attitude and scowl instantly turned to one of neutrality as the man jotted down the cafe address. I knew I had smoothed things over but needed one last translation from Nickolay before leaving. “Thanks to his cafe I was able to contact my friends and family to let them know about Irkutsk’s beauty,” I said. The man finally looked at me in the eyes with the same neutral glare. “Harashow,” he said, meaning “good” in Russian.

I walked out of the cafe that day feeling like I was victorious just for avoiding a potentially necessary violent confrontation. One of my missions for traveling to distant lands is to spread peace with my fellow global citizens. All the best to the cafe owner and hopefully he will find enough inner peace within himself to muster up a smile one day.

Reflection- Seek to Understand Others

This man confirmed all the Russian stereotypes I had etched in my head for so long. Cranky, confrontational and looking for any excuse to fight a guy like me, the Internet cafe owner was not an easy guy to deal with. I was positive I would meet someone who confirmed all of my stereotypes sooner or later. Although my interaction with this man was unpleasant, I decided to use it as a learning experience. There had to be an explanation for his terrible attitude. Why did this negative stereotype exist anyway? I was determined to understand his kind as I was well aware that I would be spending a lot of time in Russia and this was just the beginning of my journey. Certainly I would encounter more unhelpful, cranky people along the way and this man’s actions served as the motivational driving force behind my curiosity and thirst for deeper understanding.

Why are Russian people known for their frowns and not their smiles? I decided to dig into this topic and stumbled into a research article in the Journal of Nonverbal Behavior by Polish psychologist Kuba Krys whose work focuses on a concept called uncertainty avoidance, which describes a culture’s tolerance for ambiguity and uncertainty. Cultures that are low on this scale have few safety nets, unstable health care and courts. Accordingly, people in these countries may view their future as uncontrollable or unstable. To test her hypothesis, Krys had people from 44 different countries rate smiling and frowning faces using criterion such as intelligence and honesty. According to Krys’ research, as societies become more corrupt or unstable, it becomes harder to decipher peoples’ true intentions- people could be trying to trick you or else they could be displaying a warm, kind gesture. Therefore, a smile may be regarded as a confident signal of hostility, duplicity or ignorance in low uncertainty avoidance scoring countries.

It is also worth noting that there have been other studies done, which concluded that correlations exist between how hierarchical or masculine a society is and the likelihood to greet others with a smile. Also, some cultures do not value happiness as highly as others, which can aid to further explain why it is hard for some to break into a grin.

In Russia’s case, taking a good look at history may provide further explanation. Untold millions of people died during the Soviet Union during the 20th century due to war, starvation and imprisonment in Gulags, which may all be contributing factors to a rather somber national mood.

In the winter it gets down to negative 40 Celsius, temperatures so frigid that one’s limbs can fall off due to frost bite and the sun makes its appearance for only a few hours during most of the year.

I remembered my days working in Detroit during the winter. The sun would finally make its appearance when it was time for me to head into the office until 5 or 6PM. It was often very dark by the time I went home for the day. Staring at a computer all day long combined with a shortage of sunlight severely effected my mood. Depression set in and the only way I was able to overcome my negativity was through vigorous exercise, which I did religiously during my dreary years at the Detroit office. If not for my exercise routine and social connections I had during that time in my life, I probably would have been ready to tear someone’s cranium right off their spine, just like the Russian man I met in Irkutsk.

All of the above reasons could be an incorrect logical explanation for the behavior I witnesses that day in Irkutsk. I only spent a few weeks in Russia and admit it is nearly impossible to understand the national psyche during such a short visit. Anyway, it is always better to pause and seek to understand others more deeply before jumping to conclusions.

September 20, 2018February 12, 2021

Siberia Bicycle Touring- No More Stereotypes

Siberian Stereotype Breakers

Date- September 20, 2018

Written by George Balarezo, Intrepid Global Citizen

Stereotypes were all I had! Vodka drinking, ballet dancing, fat men hunting wild game in the cold, stone faced people with no expressions on their faces and frigid temperatures. This was the Siberia I had always imagined through a media influenced portrait.

Several friends in South Korea who visited Russia in the past all told me the same thing. “It is a beautiful place but people there do not smile and look a bit depressed,” they stated. Was this the Russia that lay waiting for me? I was ready to investigate matters for myself.

Before leaving on my trip, I did my share of cultural research. Several Russian Youtubers all had the same advice for visitors to their country-

Do not smile at strangers for no reason. People will think you are strange. If there is no reason to smile, do not do it.
Do not give anyone an even number of flowers. This is bad luck and could result in your Russian boyfriend or girlfriend breaking up with you.
Take off your shoes when entering someone’s home.
Do not whistle around other people as this will cause you to lose money.

After living in East Asia for nearly ten years, I could completely understand the last three points. Even numbers are not looked at in a positive manner and one should never give even multiples of currency as a wedding gift in South Korea. The whistling rule was a bit different, but I can understand how my sub par skills could result in someone becoming annoyed with me very quickly.

Upon further investigation, the “no smiling at strangers” cultural tip seemed more serious than expected in more than just one way. According to BBC accounts, Russian film director Yulia Melamed was questioned by the police for smiling in public. “They said it looks out of place, alien and suspicious, so they thought I was up to something,” stated Melamed.

“Laughing for no reason is a sign of stupidity,” a Russian proverb states. The last thing I wanted was to be questioned by the police or viewed as stupid, so I practiced saying hello while frowning in Russian language over and over. “Previet,” I repeated to myself while staring at a foreign looking, angry version of myself in the mirror. No matter what I did, my mouth always pursed itself into a smile. “Is it so bad to be a happy person?” I thought to myself after I kept on failing at this simple endeavor. My motto has always been to do what the locals do in order to properly acclimate to the culture of my host country. The only thing to do was to keep on practicing and failing. I have never been a good actor and now I would have to act as serious as possible to fit in. What a grandiose challenge this would be.

The First Interaction

As soon as I arrived to Irkutsk, I assembled my bike and hit the streets to test the greeting skills I had practiced with so much vigor. How true was this piece of cultural advice anyway? Temperatures soared to 40 degrees Celsius (110 Fahrenheit- for all of you readers from the United States) and the sun scorched every minuscule amount of exposed skin on my body, but that did not stop me. I was ready to start my Russian adventure in this small Siberian town.

I spotted a kid riding his bicycle and decided to say hello. “Previet,” I said while making sure not to smile. The kid was about 16 years old and was excited to see me on a bike. “Can I help you?” he replied in English with a warm smile. I was utterly shocked at his English skills and willingness to assist me. I told him that I was simply riding around town and asked him for sight seeing recommendations. The boy’s eyes gleamed with excitement and insisted that he show me around town. Together we rode our bikes for several hours in the streets of Irkutsk. The boy explained in as much detail as he could about all of the landmarks in his hometown with a charming innocence and curiosity. “Do you like coins?” he inquired. He told me that one of his hobbies was collecting coins and led me to the market where the local salesman had a big case of shiny coins on display. He pulled out a 1,000 ruble bill and bought a nice looking gold and silver Russian collector’s edition coin. As I watched the transaction take place I couldn’t help but notice what a great taste in coins he had. He picked out the best looking one out of the collection and handed it to me. “My mother gave me this for spending money today, but I want to buy you this coin,” he told me as a big grin spread across his face.

What a nice gesture by this kid. I was so touched by his generosity and kindness toward a strange guy like me from the other side of the world. This was something I would have never expected to happen on my first day in Russia. It was getting late and he insisted we meet at my hostel the following day so he could introduce me to some restaurants that serve traditional Russian food. I asked him if he knew a good place to eat and he said he was not sure as he usually eats at home with his family. The boy promised to ask his mother and show me the next day where all the good spots are in the city. As promised, the next day he came with his bike to the hostel and we went to eat together. Mongolian food it was. He took me to a famous dumpling restaurant with huge gaudy paintings inside. What a nice time we had together. My young companion was sent to me to break all of the Russian stereotypes on my first few days in the country and he succeeded in doing so.

More Russian Hospitality

After experiencing kindness and generosity from my young friend, I assumed that he must have been a unique exception. Perhaps others in Irkutsk would react in a cold, impatient manner to a guy like me who could not speak the local language. The following day my young friend went out of town with his family so I was on my own once again in Irkutsk and test the waters.

My next task would be to find a spare tire to take with me on the road. Again I decided to ask for help from a local Siberian. This time a university student on a bike came to the rescue. “Previet,” I said once again with a smile this time. My efforts of frown faced greetings failed me and I reverted to my natural smiling state. Much to my surprise, the kid spoke very proficient English and a few minutes later two more of his friends on bicycles showed up to offer assistance. “We will help you find a tire. Don’t worry,” they said.

For the next three hours the four of us scoured the town looking for a tire that fit my wheel size. The word help was an extreme understatement. I was amazed by all of this unexpected Russian hospitality. They repeatedly said how happy they were to assist me during the tire search process. After finding a tire we all went out to dinner and the students showed me the correct way to eat Russian dumplings. They were all so amused and were excited to be there with me introducing a guy like me to their culture. To top it all off, the three college students insisted on picking up the tab. After living in the hierarchical Korean society for so long and being a professor, I felt obligated to pay for them. However, they wouldn’t have any of it and put up a good fight for the payment.

Once we finished eating it was close to 10PM and the sun was just starting to go down. Wow! Where did the time go? When you are being escorted around by hospitable Siberians the time just flies by. Next, they accompanied me back to my hostel and we said our goodbyes. More great people putting humanity on display. Now I know the truth about the Siberians for sure! My opinions changed in just three short days. Mission accomplished and stereotypes shattered!

Lessons Learned

Stereotypes Will Always Be Shattered

Our brain likes to keep things as simple as possible. It prefers the easy, smooth road over rough, rugged terrain just like anyone would. This is the main reason why stereotypes exist and are so strongly etched in our minds. It is much easier to draw conclusions about a group of people through things we hear from others or perceptions created by the mass media without thinking very deeply about them. No matter how unbiased, progressive or noble we try to be, our brains naturally revert to the things we have heard based on media portrayals or word of mouth. I was guilty of this as well.

People in my adopted country of South Korea always make quick conclusions about me, which can become annoying at times. Now I was guilty of the same behavior. Could I really fault the Koreans for asking me how I can eat with chopsticks and tolerate spicy food on a daily basis if I was guilty of having similar thoughts about Russians? I quickly learned how much of an imperfect person I am for making similar quick judgments about a group of people. The Koreans are influenced by their own set of preconceived notions just like I am. Even though I have several Russian friends whole smile all the time and are warm and friendly, the thoughts of frowning faces and vodka drinking all filled my mind, which was very different from what I experienced my first few days in Irkutsk.

The people I met the first few days in Russia served an important role as cultural ambassadors. My first impression of Siberians stayed with me throughout my trip and even though I experienced quite a few cranky and unhelpful people, I realized that the disgruntled are a minority just like in any other country in the world.

Always Be Your Authentic Self

In order to appease the Russians, I tried to change into a cold, frowning version of myself. There is nothing wrong with smiling and being happy. Should I really care if people think I am crazy or strange due to my inner peace and smiling outer appearance? Smiling is not a crime and even if the police questioned me for looking suspicious on the grounds of displaying my pearly whites while grinning, I would have been able to literally laugh it all off anyway. After all the effort I put into meditation and cultivating myself into a more complete global citizen everyday, I tried to undue my efforts to please others. This was a grave mistake. Even if the majority of locals think smiling travelers like myself are up to no good, there would surely be a few people who feel at ease when they see a smile on a fellow global citizen. In short, I do not have time to associate with people who take life so seriously and are constantly worried about the minute possibility that others may cheat them. You can’t be friends with everyone, and time is of the essence in life.

If I would have approached the local kid on the street with a frown on my face, things could have been very different. Perhaps he would have been less keen to ride his bike around with me and accompany a newbie to Russia like myself around town. He had a smile on his face just like I usually do and it was very disarming. One of my favorite quotes is by Emerson- “To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.” By watching a video I foolishly tried to change myself and tear down everything that I have achieved. It may seem innocent, but just as forced laughter can improve your emotional and psychological health, I am sure forced frowning can have detrimental effects on one’s well being as well. My thinking was too quick and shallow. Next time I will use better judgement. In our current world of information overload, knowing what to ignore in a powerful skill to cultivate.

September 7, 2018February 13, 2021

Russia’s Strongest Man

Russia's Strongest Man

Date- September 7, 2018

Written by George Balarezo, Intrepid Global Citizen

My bike was packed and ready to go. My cardboard box weighed in under the 23 kilogram weight limit for Aeroflot Airlines. Packing my bike for a plane ride is always an essential part of a cycle tour and I considered myself a veteran tour cyclist. I was confident everything would go smoothly and nothing would ever get in my way. Much to my surprise, Mother Nature and the Russian airport were about to throw a wrench into my plans.

My first stop in Russia would be Khabarovsk, a few hundred kilometers north of Vladivostok on the Trans Siberian railway. From there I would transfer to another plane and land in Irkutsk, a Siberian town near the famed Lake Baikal. I expected the whole process to be extremely simple and uneventful. However, my adventure was about to start much earlier than I ever expected.

Upon landing in Khabarovsk, I was surprised to see a climate very similar to South Korea. It was so humid I could feel the water enter my lungs with each breath. Green, luscious landscapes surrounded the airport and it had quite a tropical feel to it. I was light years away from the bitter cold Russia that we often imagine in our minds. No one was waiting for me with large Soviet hats and furry winter coats like I always see in the media. A much different Russia was waiting for me and I was ready to experience the world’s largest country with open arms.

The plane dropped us off at the international terminal and my big, awkward, 23 kilogram box was waiting for me right by the baggage claim. All I needed to do now was haul the box to the domestic terminal for my flight to Irkutsk. I assumed this would be a fairly simple job. I was dead wrong.

There had to be a cart around somewhere I could use. I scoured every nook and cranny of the international airport terminal for a cart like a starving mouse on a mission to find the world’s last piece of cheese. There was nothing to be found. I motioned to an airport worker using body language that I needed to move the gigantic cardboard box that protected my bike. “Irkutsk,” I stated over and over. She just pointed outside and let me know the terminal was one kilometer away. Suddenly she began to march in place like a cadet in a Soviet military parade. “What? Walking is the only option? How am I supposed to move this big awkward thing?” my internal dialogue went on a rampage. There were no buses or trains connecting the two terminals located one kilometer apart from each other. I was expected to haul the big, heavy piece of dead weight like superman over my head. I had a good workout coming up and accepted the reality that I would have to lug the thing around and sweat it out before getting on my next plane.

The pattering noise became louder and louder. Now it was pounding. Huge raindrops smacked against the international terminal rooftop one by one. Within seconds the pattering noise transformed into a deafening booming sound that pierced through my eardrums like a needle. Now I would have to carry the huge cardboard box outside in the rain. Getting myself wet was no issue. However, cardboard weakens when it comes into contact with water. What if the cardboard box breaks on the walk to the domestic terminal and all of my bicycle parts become scattered on the streets of Khabarovsk? This had the potential to be a huge disaster.

I had no other choice but to hit the street in the rain with my big cardboard box. Before stepping outside ,I stopped for one minute and looked up at the vast Russian sky. “Dear Mother Nature, please do not ruin my Russian trip. I promise I will do my best to treat you better,” I silently prayed to the dark grey sky. I used my winter coat to cover the upper exposed area of cardboard as much as possible. Sweat poured down my face as the rain instantly cooled my body from the intense heat. This was just like one of my Crossfit workouts I had done for several months leading up to the trip and I was thankful that I trained so hard. Now I felt like I was competing in a Russia’s strongest man contest and all of my prior workouts were merely practice for the today’s big event. The rain came down harder and harder and my box was soaked instantly. My forearms felt like they were on fire from carrying the box several hundred meters. Then all of a sudden, an unexpected surprise came and took hold of me. Out of nowhere a man appeared and grabbed my box. I had been warned about violent crime in Russia by several friends, however this man had no intention of mugging me for my box. He was already soaked to the bone and did not mind getting a little bit more wet to help a guy like me who was struggling to maneuver through the streets of Khabarovsk. Using my index finger and extremely limited Russian language skills, I told him exactly where I was headed. Together we hauled the box in the rain to the terminal and now it seemed light as a twig. The man led me all the way to the front door in the rain as sweat and rain drenched us to the core.

Humanity showed itself to me in the form of a man that helped me exactly when I needed it most. Perhaps Mother Nature heard me begging for mercy. If not for the man, I could have missed my connecting flight to Irkutsk or my bicycle box could have caved in leaving all of my bicycle parts scattered in the street. Luckily, I avoided an absolute disaster. By helping a fellow global citizen like me, the man gave me an extremely positive first impression of Russia. I am often inspired by small acts of kindness such as this man’s helping hand. This was only day one of a six week journey. Would the Russians keep up their hospitality? Stay tuned to find out more.