Observatory

Further up from Big Almaty Lake lies an old Soviet observatory which is mostly a relic of old times yet also continues research on a small scale.

The setting is stunning and it's difficult not to picture yourself in a Bond film when you're here. Especially with this kind of kit hanging around.

My father (James Bond) escaping on a ski-doo

I was thrilled by the sense of adventure here. Mountains, telescopes, satellite dishes, vehicles in various states of disrepair scattered around the site. A complex of buildings, also variously wrecked, and Soviet scientific manuals spread around like litter.

Comrades!
Economise on electricity
When leaving, turn out the lights.

There were guards further up the hill and we snuck around with a sense of mischief as we'd heard that we're not allowed to be there. We also tried unsuccessfully to find some people! Eventually we found a couple of very friendly scientists and had a look at one of the telescopes. Unfortunately we couldn't stay late enough to see the stars. There's always more to do. But I was just so happy to finally reach this fabled institute, which met and exceeded my expectations of adventure and excitement. I couldn't wipe the smile off my face!

Yes, I see it - a lovely ceiling! Hurray for mock ups.

Kostanai benchmark

Kostanai, roughly analogous to Leicester, has charming housing. Benches abound here, including this lovely pink piece in the park where we enjoyed a lovely walk.

The analogy breaks down almost immediately of course. Kostanai was the breadbasket of the Soviet union and continues to produces masses of grain for export, as symbolised by this roundabout,

Best taken with a pinch of salt.

The landscape around the city shows almost endless flat, harvested land.

Eventually we reach no-man's-land, the endless steppe. Constant winds, beating summer sun, and the lush, intense smells of wild herbs.

An eagle chillaxing on the steppe

Ekaterinburg whistlestop

A quick well done to the ceiling painting team at Ekaterinburg train station,

And I thought the VIP terminal at the airport was notable too:

In my few visits to Ekaterinburg airport (to the pleb terminal, of course) I've found it to be quite a pleasant place. And on that note I'll be leaving Russia for a while!

Tyumen benchmark

Tyumen needs its wrist slapped. To begin with look at this horror.

Shady fail

I don't even know where to begin. In defense of this bench atrocity, it is shaded. But there are more palatable ways of achieving shade ... you don't have to be in the tree! Tut tut! 

Disgrace

Moving on, above are the benches I sat on for half an hour while waiting for the Soviet style security office to issue me with a 'temporary permanent' security pass at work. These benches are, frankly, disgraceful. They are uncomfortable at any angle, both because of the sharp planks and the inhumane curvatures by which they are arranged.

Humble success

Moving on to the above pictured bench which doesn't try too hard and indeed achieves its aims quite humbly. Two legs, and a plank, plus obligatory steel bin. The 'goal mouth' around this seat, which sits on a small green in the centre of town, points to frequent use. By Tyumen's standards, this is elegant.

Low standard

On to something more palatable then. Above is the Tyumen Standard Bench (known as TSB in the industry). Spacious and robust, these seats are fine for perching and I like the design of the arms. But the low back is hardly of use and the rising arch behind it of limited value, albeit pleasing to the eye. Palatable, yes; good? Not entirely.

Relief

It seems, then, that you should stay on your feet in Tyumen. And if you do so, and you walk to the west, the seemingly endless grid system and honking traffic jams open up to a big fast flowing river with wonderful promenades, verdant banks, an elegant bridge, and - finally - a string of reasonable quality benches which will finally offer your feet the rest they deserve.

Tyumeny buildings

To Tyumen, then, and a tour of its fine architecture.

Starting with the Mayor's house, this Soviet era behemoth is essentially standard for any city here, although this one is in particularly fine shape.

They call Tyumen the 'Capital of villages'. The city is a bit of a teenager, having grown quickly and awkwardly in recent years. Village style houses can be found throughout the city, including the very centre. A few streets out and these become the norm, with tower blocks interspersed between them.

To the Opera House then, a fine construction with the obligatory plaza before it. In fine shape and lapping up the long evening sun, this would certainly receive more attention were I to start a branch-blog called 'Opera houses of central Asia'. Alas, we will move on.

Adjacent to the Opera House, butting up against the south side of the plaza, is the so-called 'Chinese wall', a pulsating wall of concrete apartment blocks making the pedestrian feel at once both nauseous yet startled and somehow kind of perpendicular. Before I lose you let's head to the north east of the plaza ...

This is where the firefighters hang out when they're not posing for a charity calendar. I love this mural. Soviet era propaganda is so evocative, I really understand now how it can be so effective, and why people miss that era despite its imperfections.

Romantic 'yugansk

Neftyugansk has its charms, including a romantic appeal.

Starting with this lar-vly bench, which is coming into its own now that spring is knocking. Elegant iron curves form the back, waning at the edge to help bring lovers closer together. Two more smaller curves, at the apex of the back, hug each other to make a heart shape. Innit sweet!

Unlike some other places I know, in these parts flower shops are everywhere and always open. Go on, buy her some flowers!

The park beside the church complex is undoubtedly the most beautiful part of town, and here is cupid awaits unassuming couples, giving them assistance if needs be.

Finally, another lover's bench, covered in padlocks which presumably have some significance (comments please, CIS people!). I love the way the seat tips its guests toward each other.

Perils of spring

In spring the great mass of snow melts in the day and refreezes in the night. This can be followed by a week below zero, during which many cars will be stuck in a few inches of ice.

Sanctions

This restaurant called 'Munchenhousen' has a section on the menu saying:

Munchenhousen Sanctions

It is forbidden to poor beer or spirits for the president of the USA, Barack Obama.

Hollow school

I'd like to see the OFSTED report for this place.

So as not to have misled you, I should point out,
that this school is not open for business!

Dusk in the snowy park

The winter comes to an end, the daylight hours extend,

But your rear end ...

is best kept off the benches for a while longer!

 

Walking home from work

I walk carefully, navigating the bumpy ice which now covers most of the city. In the day snow melts and at night it freezes. I slip occasionally, but so far not drastically. I reach the park, or perhaps more accurately it's a promenade, which overlooks the snow covered river. There are benches and lamps, and it would be romantic if it weren't for the icy wind. 

I reach the church, tall and white with nested golden onions for a roof. I hear chanting, singing. The gate is open. I go inside. It's very warm. There are a lot of women in head scarves. Parts of the walls are covered in icons and gold, very gaudy from a western perspective but less than a typical Russian church. 

The church.

The chants continue and everyone humbly draws crosses in the air before their faces. The choir sings. Harmonies. The sound is crisp. Warm. The tone is heartening. I feel content and happy.

I continue the walk home. The icy wind contrasts with the warmth of the church. I zig-zag between concrete soviet blocks. It's dark. I pass a big metallic disk with oil field images impressed on it. I pass a bank lit by neon lights, and then through more dark icy car parks between flat blocks. 

I'm cold. I brought the wrong coat today. Eventually I reach the shop by my house. I ask about the prices of salmon. The woman in the shop is helpful and chatty. My accent is evident and she asks my ethnicity. English. A look of surprise and delight greets me. How is it here for you? A girl, maybe 16, 17, joins the conversation, she's curious about the whole thing, the world out there. A man joins the conversation. England? The girl asks if we can chat about what it's like out there. The woman turns out to be from Tajikistan. I wish her happy Nauryz. Come again, she says with a genuine smile and warm eyes.

The shop, amongst blocks of apartments.

I cross the road and dash home, maintaining my care on the ice. I scare the babushka in front of me as I enter the building behind her without making a sound. I apologise. We chat. So you live on the fifth floor? Me too. We struggle to talk while climbing the stairs. Are you from Tomsk? England. Pause. Confusion. Raised eye brows. Surprise. Genuine surprise. It doesn't take many questions to reach the topic of my salary. The staircase is a scary place but now that I've met our neighbour it's not so scary. The city, too, is less scary that I've chatted to some strangers.

Keeping clean in Nefteyugansk

The water is below par in Nefteyugansk. This shot of my kitchen sink sums it up, though doesn't quite convey its smelliness.

I like to joke:
"Why are your hands so dirty?"
"Oh, I just washed them".

Get your skates on

Borovoe is as charming in the late winter as it was in the late summer, but in a completely different way. It's warm enough to wander, but still frozen over. The lake is a great, open space with snow compact enough that, if you're careful, you can walk across it.

The lake is swept by gusting, turbulent winds, which first lull you into a false sense of security before whipping up a storm and sending real shivers through your torso and out to your fingers and toes. The loose, powdery snow complies with the wind to visualise its motion. Tumbling, twisting mini-tornadoes appear and disappear across the lake and I feel like I'm on a different planet. They touch-down and dance a muscular dance, getting fatter and thinner, sometimes tying themselves in knots, before petering out.

Skating without skates (probably the next Westlife single).

They've polished a bit of the lake to make an ice-rink. We were without skates so we skated in our shoes and had quite a giggle. 

This bench is somewhat hampered by its surroundings.

The hotel had a big fountain before it, not in its prime in this season, and benches spaced around the fountain, also not in their prime. Is it the weather, or the fact that they sit plank deep in snow, that makes them impractical?

We enjoyed a walk through the woods in the shadow of the mountains. A highly recommended getaway from the city. The wind can be a bit cold though.

Smoking sun

 

The sun is not smoking, and this is not a meteor, it's just the sun passing a chimney in Nefteyugansk. I like the way this shot captures the feeling of driving through the streets in late winter.