Elks in Canada Homepage Hans van Elk and Louise van Alenburg

Best of Russia - Short stories

Posted by louise

These stories were written from 2005 - 2008 when we lived on Sakhalin Island.

Nice Job

The first time that I took my husband to the swimming pool on Kommunistichesky Prospect was a special one. I explained how first you were supposed to take of your shoes, substitute them for clean flip flops and handing the plastic bag with the shoes to the cloak-room attendant. She then (sometimes) hands you a plastic number tag that squeezes your wrist until your fingers turn blue. But that’s perfectly normalna. After that I showed him the gents changing room. We were too late (you are allowed to swim 50 minutes and are supposed to arrive at the hour) and all swimmers were already doing their laps. Consequently I was the only one in the changing room with the lady attendant/cleaner. I met my husband in the pool and he had a big smile on his face. I assumed it was because he could finally swim after a long time, having moved to Sakhalin and all….

After swimming, the life guard blows a whistle and all swimmers proceed to the respective changing rooms for the second cleansing operation. The first one of course, is before
swimming. Hygiene comes first. In open showers the soap bubbles float around
freely. No need to feel embarrassed. After all, we all look the same, some a bit
more slender than others…

All clean and dry the swimmers then leave to collect their shoes. I met my husband downstairs, women are not dirtier, they just need more time than men! He was all smiles
again. Like me, when he first entered the men’s changing room, he was alone….
except for the cleaning lady! And like in the women’s changing room there are no
separate cubicles….. After the swimming she was still there among all those men,
fully occupied with her crosswords. And you believe that!!

I have seriously considered sending my application for this unique job!!

Rye Flour

Do you also love the smell of freshly home baked brown bread? Do you also love the sight and wonderful taste of soft melted butter with cheese on a fresh thick slice? The brown sesame bread (Chleb Sesam) that you can buy in the shops in Yuzhno Sakhalinsk is not bad at all, but there is nothing better than bake it yourself. I was disappointed to discover that you simply can not buy rye flour and wholewheat flour here. And I am sure it must exist, how else do they bake Chleb Sesam? I searched the town from top to bottom, asked Russian friends to help out. Struggled to fight monopoly of Sakhalin bread makers, go beyond any efforts to explain to the Russian bread shop employees the Dutch love for the
wonderful smell of fresh baked brown but airy wholemeal / rye bread. All without result. And if you can not get what you want, the love gets hopelessly stronger. It’s a human error I suppose.

But the key is to share this with as many people as possible, who also crave for their own
homemade brown bread. It took a few weeks, maybe a month, but then on a good day
I found myself with a bag of approx 5 kilo of rye flour, for nothing! This is the story.

Some people like horses and horses need to eat grains. During one of her trips to the stables at Kristophorovska, my friend helped to buy food for the horses at a whole sales
cattle food shop outside Yuzhno. There she discovered rye flour, very cheap. Thrilled, she does not think twice and decides to buy it. Only later to discover that it comes in a 45 kilo bag…But she new some people to share it with.

Now imagine: she lives in a 5 story high apartment building in town without elevator. Two strong men had to carry the bag up the stairs. The taxi driver must have been shaking
his head thinking: what kind of animal lives up there? Crazy foreigners.

Korsakov

You’ve all been there, at least once I am sure: the grimy port, as it is called in the Lonely Planet. You probably do not know that Korsakov was founded by G. Nevelsk during an
expedition in 1853 as a military post. It was then called Myravyevski, later renamed Korsakov. It is the most ancient settlement of the region. I always wondered where the name came from. Doesn’t the name ring a bell to you?

What about the Korsakov Syndrome?The Korsakov syndrome is the popular term for permanent short term memory loss due to long term excessive alcohol intake in combination with a vitamin B deficiency. Russian psychiatrist Sergei Korsakov (1853 – 1900) first publicized his findings of these symptoms and the relation of alcohol abuse. I always wondered what was first: the famous scientist or the city.

Anton Chekov visited Korsakov in 1890, and noticed the alcohol problems in the then penal servitude post. Chekov lived in the same time as the 7 years older Sergei Korsakov, they both studied medical school, so there you have the connection. So the syndrome was
there and the city was named after it. A plausible hypothesis, or not?

The historians among you will immediately crush my theory. As a nice visit to the Regional Museum proves, there was another Korsakov; namely General M. Korsakov. Disappointing but true, the city was named after this far less famous man in 1869. The psychiatrist Sergei was then 16 years old. Probably a very bright student, but not bright enough to get an old city in the Far East named after him.

Cup Noodles

Have you been traveling up North? Not yet? It is worth the effort, if you do not mind cup noodles. Cup Noodles? This is the story. We booked a car for 2 days and planned to make a “hit or miss” type of trip to Poronaisk, approximately 300 kms fromYuzhno. Equipped with sleeping bags (just in case), and a thermos with coffee, we left early in the orning. The only road to Poronaisk is squeezed between the railway and the frozen sea and we enjoyed the scenery. It’s really good for a lonely “polar” feeling.

The snow had melted a great deal, but we were only driving for an hour and it started to snow again. The further we drove up North, the more snow on the road. After several hours the road turns left into the forest away from the Zhdanko cliffs near the coast. The road was covered with more snow and we progressed slowly because of roadwork. We estimated that there was no way we could reach Poronaisk before nightfall, so we decided to set up “camp” in the nearest town Makarov. According to our map this town had a "Gastinitsa" (Hotel). De route continued to be gorgeous, left the mountains, right the icebergs! When we entered Makarov a little after 3 pm we kept an eye out for the hotel. Makarov is a sad grey looking town, with soviet style concrete buildings. Tons of muddy sludge on the roads (coal) and those poor people trying to push the prams to nowhere. Old people strolling down the streets with weather-beaten faces.

There was no sign of a Gastinitsa, so we stopped to ask. The lady’s face lit up immediately and showed us the way to the hotel with much enthusiasm. It turned out we were very close and had passed it several times. The building was as grey and dirty as all the others. The tiles on the floor were broken and the window frames were at least painted 32 times, judging from all the different coloured layers that had peeled of. But they had a Komnata, “for 1 night only?” “Yes, that would be enough...” The room was small and narrow, it had 3 small wooden beds and there was a communal bathroom with sinks. No shower, as the Banya was opposite the hotel to scrub off the dirt. The restaurant in the hotel had not been in operation since many years, but the receptionist gave us directions to the only other restaurant in town. We had to go back and ask three times, but still failed to find it. The only alternative was to buy the cup noodles she had for sale and ask for some hot water. We tried to make ourselves comfortable in the room where it was quite cold. The window had no curtains and the crack had been repaired with tape. We wore all the clothes we brought and we were very happy we had our sleeping bags.

The lady felt pity for us and offered us her hot water boiler and some teabags (as our coffee was finished). ”Did we want cup noodles for breakfast too? “ Nahhhh….

Van Basten

The other day I drove into town. At Lenin square I needed to turn left and as there were no cars coming from the opposite direction, I drove onto the left lane, crossing the line maybe one meter too early. Bingo! Under the strict eye of Lenin himself on the square stood a militia car and two police officers, perfectly visible for anyone else, but me. They gestured me to turn around and drive towards them. With shaking knees I parked next to the police car.

“Dokumenti” one of them ordered. When he realized I was not Russian, he gestured me to take a seat in the militia car next to the other officer. This one studied my drivers’ license for a while and then said: Ah, Van Basten! “Njet njet, that is not my name”, I tried to explain. “But you are from Holland, you must know him…. football?”, the policemen replied in Russian. “Da, Ya znaioe, kanechna (but I don’t know him personally of course)”. “I like Holland football”, he said. In the meantime I was racking my brain for other famous names of Dutch football players, but the only other one I could think of was Ruud Gullit. Anyway, what followed, I thought, was a conversation about football, a game I never really understood, let alone in Russian! He must have guessed, as I stared at him blankly, smiling. But when I caught the word “rules” and “fine” I then understood that he was not talking about the football rules but traffic rules…

He sighed once… looked up and shook his head slightly. An international sign that I interpreted that he realized women can’t drive and know nothing about football. Anyway, he let me out of the car and I was tempted to say: “I will say hello from you to Van Basten”, but of course wouldn’t dare. I should write Van Basten though. These old famous football players do not know what shockwaves they caused on earth, even reaching Sakhalin, with long lasting positive effects. At least for me.

It is not always what it seems

It is not always what it seems here in Sakhalin. People here surprise me all the time. One day we stopped along the roadside to take a few photographs. When a strict looking military man with gun and a scary looking dog came out of nowhere, we realized that we were near a military area. Our legs started shaking and we were prepared for the worst. I was already thinking that it might be a good opportunity to buy a new camera…. When he approached us and asked for a cigarette, we could not believe our ears. How easily can one be deceived!

The disinterested looking saleswomen, turns out to be very enthusiastic when you compliment her on the tastefully decorated shop. And she completely changes into a service minded salesperson as soon as you ask her about her grandchildren.

Many of us are surprised about what is behind the concrete Soviet style buildings with their
heavy iron doors and damaged steps at the entrance. A fantastic fur tailor with the most beautiful fur coats to the latest Italian design. Or a private Banya in Greek style with luscious plants that make you feel like you are in the Mediterranean in stead of in a Sakhalin Banya building that looks like a garage from the outside.

Many locals turn out not to be locals at all. How often did it happen to you that people ask you the way in Russian? Once I had bought a bunch of pussy willow branches and a Russian man and his son asked me where they could buy them. When they saw the surprised look on my face, they explained that they were not from Sakhalin, but from Belarus.

Once I overheard a foreigner asking for wodka. Trying to blend in, he wanted to buy a good wodka. He asked for the best one in the shop. The shopkeeper said: “Standard”. No not
standard, I want a good wodka. “Standard” says the shopkeeper, absolutely not trying to be unfriendly, but it is just not done to discuss the Russians knowledge of wodka. Finally it dawns… the innocent foreigner realizes that the brand is called “Standard”.

Luckily it is not always what it seems, I must say. My mother in law got quite worried about the Russian lady that kept answered my husband’s mobile phone…… She was pleased to
hear that it was not, as she feared, a new girlfriend but the operator.

Garbusha

I wondered before coming out here: Is it true what they say about Sakhalin? Thousands of salmon and bears that eat them? I did not believe it at first, it was our first summer on the island and we had not seen a Salmon alive. It is said that locals and expats alike have hundreds of recipes to prepare salmon. But I took it for one of those stories that you have to take with a grain of salt. That probably explained the fact that the salmon I bought at the market was actually quite salty.

Now finally I have seen the masses myself. And if this is true, the part about the bears will probably be true as well. The other day we drove to Ochotskoye and were surprised to see many dead Salmon on the dirtroad. We assumed they had dropped of the pickup trucks of fishermen as we could not believe that other story: that it is mostly the caviar that is wanted, not the whole fish.

We reached the shore and you can not believe the amount of salmon that was frantically trying to reach the 'mating grounds' upriver. We were able to see them up close as they were trying to wriggle themselves over the sand banks! It was an unbelievable sight! I looked it up on the internet and it is definitely a Oncorhynchus gorbuscha or Pink salmon. At the market they sell it as Garbusha, so that makes sense.

We met a Russian family who were cooking a nice salmon stew over a small fire. The river seemed to be alive with fish. They explained that we could cross the river to see the real fishermen at work on the beach a bit further. I was reluctant to drive through while all these fish were on their way up, but other cars crossed the river as well. We found the fishermen, they were easy to spot. Nets weighing 2 tons were lifted with a huge crane and dropped in the big truck. When the truck left the beach it left a trail of half dead fish behind…

Amazing stories can be true, sometimes.

Epiphany plunge : Kresjenyie

It’s cold today, but according to the Russians, it’s not cold enough. January 2006: we watched how the citizens of Yuzhno celebrated the Russian Orthodox Epiphany with dunking
rituals at the frozen rivers in the Gagarin Park. It commemorates the Baptism of Jesus by John the Baptist in the River Jordan. Probably slightly warmer than the rivers in Yuzhno Sakahlinsk. My girl friend Zhenya from the Sakhalin diving club kept asking me to join her on the evening of the 19th for a dive in ice cold water in the river at the Gagarin Park. The Orthodox priests traditionally bless the water by casting crosses into lakes and rivers. Worshippers then plunge in to receive the blessing and cleanse their souls of sin..... brrrrr

Well, watching does not hurt we thought, so we parked the car next to the Gagarin Hotel just before 8 pm and followed Zhenya’s instructions. We ventured into the forest where it became darker and darker. We tried not to trip or slide on the dark icy forest floor. Just as we asked ourselves if this really was a good idea after all, we heard voices and cries in the distance. We followed the sound and finally we arrived at the frozen lake. May people were gathered on the bridge to have a good view of the brave bathers down below in the pond that was chain-sawed out of the frozen river. Dressed only in a pair of swimming trunks
or bikini they jumped in the hole. Steam poured from their skins into the darkness as they emerged and their eyes rolled with a mix of shock and ecstasy. Some gasped for air, made funny sounds before climbing out. The edge of the hole was very slippery but young, old, fat and thin jumped in, no problem.

The spectators were dressed warmly so I could not spot Zhenya immediately. I decided to call her on her mobile to say we had arrived. We heard a phone ring behind us and there was Zhenya, very happy to see us. She went down to the river quickly to prepare for her dip in the icy water.

She is such a small tiny girl, but very brave. Her mother was there with her, ready with a towel and helped her dressing afterwards, because the water may be around zero, the air temperature was minus 17 degrees centigrade! After Zhenya's bath she introduced us to her family. With an unidentified strong drink and a mandarin we all toasted. Kresjenyie! Meaning: “to the submersion of Jesus”, or to Zhena’s dip, whatever………… What an experience, wonderfully crazy Russians!

Diving Moneron

As fanatic scuba divers we felt the strange urge to try scuba diving here. Not in winter, we’re not that crazy, but with a summer water temperature of 8 degrees Centigrade we thought we could do it. This is the story of our very first dives last year (2005) in these waters.

The staff from the Dive Club Sakhalin was very friendly and eager to show us what diving is like on Moneron Island, approx. 2 hrs by boat from Nevelsk. I was told that we would leave on Saturday 4 pm from the Dive Centre and stay a night at the dive base in Nevelsk. So far so good, plan understood. Manager Mikhael or Mishja drove us to the dive base, stopping several times along the way to get some food supplies. We only brought our “just-in-case” cup noodles and by the sight of his supply I got a little worried. Apparently I had to work harder on my Russian, as it turned out that everyone had to bring their own food because the Dive Base is quite far from Nevelsk town. We watched how mouthwatering dishes were prepared in the kitchen and from the BBQ. We learned quickly what to bring next time. The next day we were supposed to wake up at 6 am to catch the boat to Moneron. Again my Russian needed polishing as 6 am turned out to be 8 am for everyone else but us!

At Moneron we did two beautiful dives. Cristal clear water: approx. 20 meters visibility and during the first dive we had a very curious seal diving down 4 times to inspect and play with us! This dive is certainly in my top 5 so far!! Before, between and after the dives our Russian dive buddies were busy cooking and eating. With our cub noodles being long gone, we were glad our Russian friends invited us to join their freshly caught food. After the second dive our buddies did not seem to be in an awful hurry to get back to Nevelsk. Certainly I needed to review the verbs Leave (Payehgat) and Arrive (Priyehgat) as I got quite confused. After 8 pm when they still showed no sign of leaving. Kapitan Dima and Boatsman Yuri were also having great fun with their Wodka’s and we decided to join them drinking the rest of it, just to make sure we would not end up in Japan! Dima and Yuri knew 3 words of English each, but that became 6 each because of the wodka. And with the few Russian words that we knew we had a great conversation. We became friends for life.

Finally around 10 pm Mishja called everyone on board: Payehghali, bistra bistra. Suddenly he was in a hurry. Everyone dropped sort of dead in the cabin, hoping God would send a guardian angel to guide Kapitan Dima safely back to shore. We reached Nevelsk port by
midnight without problems and Mishja drove us home safely where we arrived at 2 am Monday morning. Too bad for my husband, who’s alarm went off only 4 hours later.

Of old cheese and broken poles

The 11th of March 2007, the day of the International Cross Country Ski Marathon. Until this day no one seemed to know if this yearly event was going through. Rumour had it, that the
usual route from Lesnoye to Yuzhno via the Chekhov Pass proved to be unsafe. Heavy speculations about the reasons for the decision to hold the marathon in Troitskoye could be overheard among the fanatic X-country skiers. Maybe because of a landslide, not enough snow, the ice on the rivers would be too thin to cross them, etcetera. At least as many speculations were heard about the distance. One said there were going to be two rounds of 12,5 kms, plus an extra round of 5 kms, but it might also be one long circle of 25, 30, 35 of 38 kms. Nobody knew. Even Dima, Arthur, Igor and Alexei, our dedicated ski instructors,
did not know much about it. Like one of my Russian friends once said: even God does not know, so why bother?

I tried to find out more information at the Santa x-country ski clubhouse, at Spartak stadium and at several ski sport stores in town. The general conclusion was that it might be one long circuit of probably 38 kms. You’ll better be prepared. The closer to the date we all got a bit nervous but we didn’t want to show it to each other. Finally the day arrived. The Weather Gods worked hard to make sure we had a real Sakhalin winter atmosphere: hard wind and snow! The Brass-band, the organizing committee and the crowd tried hard to let us forget our worries about the monstrous trip ahead. If I counted well we were with 23 brave participants from Sakhalin Energy. The professional Russian free style cracks jumped away at the start. Then a big group of less advanced followed trying to skate away against the wind. Then it was the classic cross country skiers. The visibility was seriously reduced to a few meters. Snowflakes tormented our faces. After what seemed quite long, I spotted the first km sign that showed the distance passed. It was only 5 km! Courage almost left me, but I gave myself a mental whip: “come on, conditions are bad for all of us, you have started this and you shall finish!”

But tough it was. Three times we hoped we would turn into the forest out of the wind, but again the track went on into the flat field. In some places the skate-track was quite narrow and several times I found myself eating snow because the tips of my skis got stuck in the edge. Very tiring. Also for the classic skiers there was no proper track and the temperature changes caused either thick sticky packs under the skis or no grip at all. Finally the track
headed up the hills into the forest out of this terrible wind. That climbing was involved (my least favourite), did not bother me anymore.

The organization was perfect. There were three tea posts at strategic places along the route. They gave bread with salt and as much sweet tea as you wanted. The reward for the climbing was of course going downhill. After the 22 km tea (point of no-return) I felt much better. Until that moment I had gone quite steady, but the wind had taken quite some of my energy. I tried to concentrate on my gliding technique and I overtook a few others. Reaching the last 10 kms I recognized the terrain and I smelled home. The brass band played a nice tune and I was announced as “Dewoeshka iz Gallandia (a girl from Holland). That felt great, and that’s why you do this, I thought when I passed the finish after 35 kms. It turned out that I was second in my age category. I guess it is like Old Dutch cheese: the older the better.

Thanks go to the organization as well as Dima and other Rec Centre staff. Thanks to the spectators who were brave enough to conquer the elements to cheer us on. Well done everybody of our group! Three broken poles, coming back on a snow mobile, it does not matter. Participation in such a nice sportive event is the most important and rewarding!

St Bear-nard

Spring is beautiful in Sakhalin. The places where we skied only recently, we now discover on mountainbikes. It is unbelievable how nature explodes when most of the snow has
melted. It is like a fast forward movie, from day to day you see plants grow fast out of the ground. So, lots to enjoy if you don’t mind muddy slopes. Some people like hiking. But caution is necessary this time of year for hungry brown bears that wake up from hibernation. We did not encounter a bear in Sakhalin before, but some people did, one saw a bear during a trip on his mountainbike. Some people use bear bells or just make a lot of noise. A friend of mine told me a very interesting way to keep the bears occupied, if she would encounter one. “I just throw a pot of honey to them”, she said. “Of course you need to unscrew it first.

With this story still fresh in my memory we jumped on our bikes on a lovely evening. After 20 minutes we had to pass a small river. It was not too difficult but you needed all your attention because of the rocks in the river. I was all concentration and tried to maneuver through the water. From one corner of my eye though, I saw something big and hairy approaching in a jumping fashion from the forest. It flashed through my mind: “Oops I forgot the honey!” Suddenly I could not breathe and I felt my heart beating vigorously in my throat. My scream came out without a sound… I think I was never this scared and I don’t remember if I had my eyes open or closed, but the only thing I saw was a huge tongue……Not of a brown bear but of a young playful St. Bernards dog who had pushed me on the ground with great enthusiasm!

The Russian Banya

After more than 2 years in Sakhalin we are regular Banya visitors, but I vividly remember my first time: One day I had a massage from my friend Olga. I had serious muscle pain in my neck and shoulders. She decided it was time for me to join her and her friends for a real Banya experience to get things loose. In the Netherlands we used to go to the sauna every now and then, so I thought I knew what I was in for. I was so mistaken!

Olga came to pick me up; the other girls were waiting for us at the Banya. Let me introduce them: there was another Olga, her cousin Palina and their friend Svetlana who seemed to be the one appointed with my Banya training. She took the role seriously like a Russian teacher who did not seem to allow any silly questions. So I obeyed and tried to do my best. The building looked more like a garage from the outside, but I did not find dirty men with black oil on their hands inside. Instead the Sauna room was beautifully decorated in Italian
style, with clean tiles, a rest area with soft sofa’s and carpet on the floor, clean towels and crisp cotton sheets and nice lighting. To keep everything tidy: Lesson nr. 1. Always put your flip-flops on.

Before I knew, the girls had undressed and started with a shower. Lesson nr. 2. The purpose of the shower: make sure you are absolutely clean before going anywhere! So that means soaping and foaming. Then it was time for the sauna. I was relieved to see that it was not much different than in Holland. I was so mistaken!

After the first round in the hot sauna, we were red and shiny of sweat and the girls started to scrub each others' backs with strange mixtures of ground coffee and egg white or smetana (sour cream). Each girl had her own special mixture. As a coffee addict I naturally fancied the coffee scrub and decided to make it myself at home later. They also had mixtures for their face and their hair (with beer). Then we showered. Wow, that gave a nice soft skin. Olga, Olga and Palina made themselves comfortable on the sofa in front of the TV
and watched an interview with Mick Jagger on a Russian music channel. They ate dried fish and shared a beer. Lesson nr. 3. Beer is good for everything and seems to enhance the detox process (?!?). My previous employer: Heineken, must be very pleased to hear this.

Svetlana magically conjured a bunch of birch tree branches with leaves out of her bag and placed it in a bucket with water in the sauna. To heat up, she said. I was clueless, but I feared something was going to get pretty rough soon. I had heard about the masochistic tendencies of the Russians, but I always thought that those were highly exaggerated stories about tough Russian men. I was so mistaken!

After the second sauna round the girls started to hit each other on the back, buttocks and legs with the venik (as the bunch of birch tree branches is called)! At first I tried to hide, but there was no question about it, Svetlana was ready for me with the venik. It was kind of uncomfortable but I did not dare to quit. The girls had also brought honey into the sauna that obviously started to melt. I was wondering what that was for. And I was soon to discover. I watched in awe as they massaged each others red beaten bodies with the honey. I could not wait for my turn! That was heaven. The honey was not sticky at all and it melted on my skin. I thought this was something Cleopatra did long time ago, but I guess good practise does not die out. A few more sauna rounds followed and after that we were as new! Clean, smooth and relaxed. Now we know why the Russian girls are all so good looking!

How to end up with 3kg of blackberries

As an artist who tries to capture the life around her, there are many inconveniences to overcome. You can not imagine what one has to endure sometimes when drawing outside here in Yuzhno. Winter is far from ideal as I struggle to draw with gloves on. To find a suitable place without the risk of getting completely soaked by passing cars in spring can be a nightmare. Then when I think that I found a nice place to sketch, the wind picks up and blows my paper away, or it starts to rain. Then I see the most beautiful old face that I have been waiting for and I search for my sketchbook and camera only to discover that the sketchbook has been left at home and the camera is still on the charger.

One time I was prepared, fully equipped and inspired at the same time. Everything worked with me. It was a nice autumn day and I ventured out to the Vostok market. I had been talking to a very sweet Babushka the week before and I hoped she would be there again with her cucumbers and her mushrooms. And indeed she was there with some bags of cut carrots, a lot of berries and pots of preserved gherkins (Aguritz). I asked and she was happy to serve as my model. I took a spot opposite, next to a friend of hers. This friend kept chatting away and tried to sell me fresh black berries that she gathered herself. To be able to concentrate I bought one kilo of black berries. Time went by and my Aguritz lady almost sold all of her stuff. Only her berries were left. I went over to thank her I decided to buy also a kilo of her berries. She was very happy (and also quite pleased with the sketch that I promised to give her later). Then I spotted another Babushka next to her. She sat there quietly looking a bit disappointed. She had very nice black berries as well that she also gathered painstakingly herself. Can you see it coming? I ended up with 3 kg of those berries!

They were not very nice to eat but probably suitable to make jam or syrup, so I added sugar and Russian cognac that turned nicely into a local Crème de Cassis after 3 months. The sketch lead to an oil painting that will be connected with this berry story for ever.

Timor's birthday

Timor is, like many other Russians here on the island, not from Sakhalin but from the mainland. He is the master of shashlick. The best on the island! His shashlick restaurant is nothing more than an old seacontainer with only 3 tables inside. It's pretty dark inside but there are interesting paintings on the wall. I spotted those immediately and then you have a conversation. But actually the first conversation with Timor was, how surprising, about football. When he heard that we were from Holland he dashed back in the kitchen/library of 1 by 2 meter for a football magazine. He found the article that he was looking for, put it for me on the table and ordered: chitaete, read! It was of course all in Russian but I tried my best. It was not too difficult though: it was about our own Guus Hiddink. "Goos", said
Timor, the hero of Russian football. Finally they would count in the world.

Every time when we go for a shashlik at Timor's, he sits with us for a chat, even when he is busy. He always gives us a present when we leave: ikra (caviar), krevetki (shrimps) and last time a book about the fishing industry on Sakhalin in English and Russian. Timors' restaurant is near Vtoraya Pad (the second valley) on the way to Korsakov. I had taken beautiful pictures before and decided to make a watercolour painting for Timors container. I had this plan for a while but I had left it for what it was. On a certain day I decided that is was time to paint and to take it to Timor. It was very busy when we arrived. The container was packed with men who were enjoying loads of food and wodka, we smelled. Timor approached us cheerfully with "Welcome Amsterdam!" I said: "wow, it's pretty busy today"."Yes", he answered. "These are my friends, it's my birthday today!"

What an unbelievable coincidence: "Y menya est padarok, I have a present for you", I said. But Timor and his friends (who also were from the mainland of Russia) were quite sure:
this was no coincidence. It was premeditated and carried out well by "him upstairs". Pravda! It's true! And that was not all: Timor's datcha is situated on the hill that I had painted. He loved his present. It would not stay in the container but he was going to take it home! This gives me a warm feeling!

Plof

On a nice day in November after some fresh snow had fallen, we walked through the datcha area on the way to Telegraph Hill. I was taking pictures and as we passed a building site, two men who were working asked if I could take a picture of them. They introduced themselves as Nicolai and Yura from Tadzhikistan and they wanted to send the picture to their families far away. So a few days later I had printed the pictures and went to give it to them. The two men were very pleased and wanted to do something back, so they invited me and my husband over to eat “plof” someday. At first I had no idea what plof was, but they the word “ris” sounded ok. Something with rice, probably. Nicolai the eldest, gave me his phone number and said we must call him when we were in the mood for “plof”. A month
went by and ..., we never called.

Then my friend rang. She had been walking the dog near the datcha’s and was stopped by a man that mentioned my name. As far as she understood he asked for Louisa and elephone… So I gave him a call. “When are you coming for plof?” Nicolai asked. I explained that we were very busy and not knowing if we could stay on the island because we were waiting for our visa. But I will give you a call, I promised.

The end of the year was approaching and we got our visa all right. On the 31st of December the phone rang. It was Nicolai. “Louisa, you never call me. Tomorrow night 7 o’clock you come eat plof ok?” “Ok Nicolai”, I said. “We will be there with some Dutch oliebollen, a traditional dish in my country for new year”. So we went, on the first evening of 2008. We
arrived just after 7 at the old small datcha behind the new building. Nicolai and Yura were there, as well as a third brother. It was incredibly hot in their little kitchen and the “plof” and hot sweet tea were waiting for us on the stove. The plof was a kind of pilav, rice with spices and beef accompanied by tomatoes and cucumber. It tasted great.

We chatted about our countries and our lives while Yura constantly filled our cups with more tea. We took pictures and laughed about Nicolai who claimed to need his 2 brothers as bodyguards because of all the golden teeth in his mouth. Like us these three men are strangers to this country. They also had not seen their families for a long time and they were looking forward to see them. Our lives so different and still we all have the
same needs: a bit of company and friendship. Not so different after all.

Attracted by the unknown and unexpected

How often do we say or hear: “we have to get off the island!” Sakhaliners and expatriates alike, we sometimes feel trapped and think we need to break out to relieve stress and get out of the old groove. So WHY on earth would you plan a trip ON the island? “Patsjemou?” exclaimed our Russian friends when they heard about our idea to organise a tour by car to the North of Sakhalin with seven women. Well, I’ll tell you why.

Planning involved car and road safety, emergency contacts and satellite phone, power of attorneys, driver and third party insurance, checking distances, guessed travel time, emergency food and water, and booking overnight stays. Not to mention light packing! One bag and backpack each was the limit. Not an easy task for women…

Let me introduce them:
Titia, our primary initiator, GPS whiz kid, route and time keeper.
Ingrid, co-initiator, car provider and the one with the infectious laugh
Reineke, best light packer of the group, provided the 3rd spare tire
Mia, car provider and necessary to balance the SEIC majority
Thea, or sweet Mother Thedina, who brought the liquorice.
Uan, good for unexpected funny acts and counterweight to the Dutch explorers
Louise, the Russian speaker, hotel contact and Yoga instructor.

The preparations went well, the “march-route” was quickly decided upon. First night Poronaisk, second night Timovskoye, third night and furthest destination Alexandrovsk-Sakhalinsk and back to Yuzhno via Smirnich where we would stay the last night. We left Zima in high spirits, ready for any photo-opportunity. With a highly sophisticated flag signalling system we never missed a mo(nu)ment or other interesting place. After a day’s travel (301 km) with several nice stops along the way (we recommend local coffee and tea at Vzmoriye square and a picnic near the Lesnaya River before Makarov) we arrived in Poronaisk. Hotel Scarlet Sails (Alieye Paroesa) turned out to be a Russian style seaside hotel. Luckily with a Russian speaker in our midst we could ask for directions because the
building did not exactly resemble a hotel. It was a battered Soviet style apartment building. There was no hotel sign or whatsoever visible. But we were expected. On the second floor were 2 rooms reserved for us with a total of 7 beds. Similar to the other apartments in the building, our rooms had a kitchen and a bathroom. The decorations and the many different pieces of wallpaper, the colourful bedspreads and lace curtains really gave us a Russian feeling. Strongly advised we left the cars at a guarded car park, with vicious dogs, which was a good thing. The tip about the log cabin restaurant on Oktjaber Street was a good one and it was a pleasant evening on the terrace watching life in Poronaisk. After dinner we gathered for a night cap in the room with the absolute highlight of the day : Thea, Titia and Uan showing there respective back-exercises on the floor.

The “early” room (Reineke, Uan, Mia and Louise) went for a stroll along the Terpeniya Bay in the morning. Fishermen were busy with their nets on the beach near the Poronai River. Some of them proudly showed us their catch of the night. Louise was crazy enough to go for a swim. Returning to the hotel, we met Valeri Vasilich, the owner. He gave Louise (being still wet) a morning kiss, apparently he was very happy that she had booked the rooms. In the “lazy” room, sweet Thedina had prepared a hearty breakfast. We learned about their hunt for mosquitoes during the night. Thea, Ingrid and Titia had not slept very well. Nor did Reineke, who claimed to know who had been snoring.

The trip to Timovskoye was interesting. We passed the 50th parallel that once divided Russia and Japan. We posed near the monument that was designed for peace between
the two countries and we donated coins for good luck. When we passed Smirnich, we noted that our hotel for the last night did not look bad at all. This was going to be the place where three of us would have to stay with a local family due to shortage of hotel rooms. The girls in the first car decided that the Russian speakers Titia and Louise and the camping lover Uan, where chosen unanimously to stay with the locals. The hotel was simply too good
looking for the others to decline. But, looks aren’t everything as we would discover later……

With the tarmac long gone (except for villages and bridges) we still were surprised by the high quality of the dirt roads and the absence of speed controls. Not that that was ecessary; our average speed came to a maximum of 48, 5 kms an hour. We were quite a sight on the road when we stopped to take pictures of a monument or city boundary. The only other cars were Urals, Uaz cars or trucks loaded with sand and stones for the pipeline project. Many truck drivers honked their horn or completely turned backwards behind their wheel to take a good look at us. Although skilfully prepared to change a flat tyre, we were not worried at all; plenty of testosterone along the way to assist if necessary.

When we reached Timovskoye, it took a while to realise that our hotel was located in the local Dom Torgovly. Again there was no indication that there was a hotel on the 5th floor. The outside of the building was near to a massive collapse, but renovations were under way. With all our courage we went up to have a look inside. Again: it is not always what it seems. Modern and new shops inside lifted our spirits and after many stairs waited us a nice hotel with beautiful rooms and a proper reception and café. One bed short, we could not care less, as we were prepared by bringing an inflatable mat. Two rooms had communal showers, but there were no other guests that needed to use those. The other (deluxe) family room had its own bathroom.  First thing to do in a new town: taste the local brew! Needless to say we had an enjoyable evening after that. We had great fun with a game of competitive Pictionary with newly invented rules from sport teacher Mia: “if the group can not follow, you have to adapt the rules”. The family room was great for a Yoga introduction early in the morning. With freshly baked blini’s on demand, Hotel Versailles (Bepcalb) was absolutely the best hotel of our trip.

The stretch to Alexandrovsk was a short one. With a good quality dirt road, beautiful mountain views and very little traffic, this was a pleasant drive for an hour. After a total of 550 km in 3 days we reached the hotel too early and the administrator was not too pleased. Hotel Tri Brata (three brothers) was conveniently located in … yes, the local Dom Torgovly, on the third and fourth floor this time. Seven places didn’t necessarily mean 7 beds, as we found out. So Uan and Louise decided to show their camping skills to sleep on the floor. There was plenty of time to explore the old capital of Sakhalin and we were not disappointed. Alexandrovsk is a pleasant city build on hills near a beautiful coastline. We visited the old part of the town with wooden houses and the wonderful and well maintained Chekov Museum. The funny and friendly guide gave a tour in English! We encourage you all to visit this great museum. Our trip to the coast to find the Three Brothers (very famous rock formations in the sea) turned out to be not so easy, but Titia’s detours were quite exiting and full with unexpected views. After a trip of two hours through the hills and an area with old but beautifully decorated wooden houses, we discovered that we could have
made the trip on foot, just from the city. The scenery with the Three brothers was breathtaking (don’t look at the dirty coal loading place on the right) and the swim in the sea was fantastic according to Mia, Uan and Louise. Afterwards we found out that we completely missed the Three sisters (3 more rocks further down the coast), that made us feel a little disappointed. One lesson: don’t assume it’s far, just ask. Even if you don’t speak Russian, just draw 3 rocks with a male sign and then 3 other rocks with the female sign. If you can play Pictionary you can do this! We challenge other groups to go find those Sisters
and take pictures of them.

In line with Russian tradition we spent the evening on Lenin square with a beer in hand and some local zakuzi (cheese, salmon, sausage, vegetables and toast). We met Svetlana from Yuzhno, who had heard from the hotel administrator that 7 foreigners were going to arrive. As a contact person for child adoption she frequents the town and was keen to meet us. It seemed our trip did not go unnoticed …. When we sang Happy Birthday in the mobile phone to one of our friends on Zima Camp, the rest of the people on Lenin square joined in with
Hurah, Hurah! We felt very much at home. We highly recommend this terrace, although the service is lousy. Back at the hotel Uan found out (with her head full of shampoo) that there is no water supply from midnight until 6 am in the morning. Luckily there was a bucket with water in the toilet (in case you need to flush at night) for her to rinse off....

The blini’s in the restaurant next morning came definitely second after the sublime ones in Timovskoye. Mainly due to the very grumpy looking lady that served us. Yes, these people still exist. We left Alexandrovsk with mixed feelings. Proud that we got so far, sad to see that what was once a capital, is now struggling to survive. We have seen poor people and many young mothers. We learned about the situation at the orphanage from Svetlana and we realised that we are very fortunate, for example to have a simple thing as running water 24 hrs a day.

Our last resort was in Hotel Senai in Smirnich. Much anticipated as it looked so good on the outside. When we arrived, Marina our contact person reluctantly admitted that the extra room for 3 of us at a local home was already rented out. There was no alternative to take out the sleeping mats again. The rooms were dirty and the smell of sewage overwhelming. There was no need to stay in the rooms, so we explored the city. The local bread factory was very interesting. If you manage to locate the manager in advance (a new challenge for future travellers) you might have a great excursion. The absolute highlight and surprise was the restaurant on the right of the hotel. Beautifully decorated (the toilet is a must) and again an example of so-so outside, great inside. The food was superb and it was very busy with locals. Do not confuse this restaurant with the canteen of the hotel itself – filthy chairs! We stocked up in the “magazine” of the hotel for the next day (not bad, they even had feta cheese, lays chips and Italian coffee). After the wine from vodka glasses (that takes long…) and many pictures later we went to sleep. Unfortunately the mosquitoes kept Mia, Uan and Louise awake. Ingrid had slept too well to be able to neither deny nor confirm if Reineke had been sleeping or snoring….. We had fried eggs for breakfast in the canteen and to be honest, they were not bad and they kept us going for the rest of the morning.

At Gastello, Thea had arranged a guided tour at Booster station 2. This was certainly an interesting part of the trip. Soon we were on the way again for the last part of the 1100 km route. It was after another picnic in the field and a final coffee in Vzmorye, before we headed towards rainy Yuzhno. The Yoga sun greetings had paid off, for we had
great weather all the time. We felt very lucky.

So Patsjemou? We considered the travelling itself as part of our goal, we had great fun along the way, took together approximately 2000 photographs, saw beautiful and less beautiful parts of Sakhalin and we met very friendly people. Attracted by the unknown and the unexpected? Certainly! We do not think we understand fully what Sakhalin is, but we know a great deal more. Patsjemou? That’s why we went