Today's weather: changeable

It's hot in the summer, often over 30C. When there's a fresh breeze and the mosquitoes are kept away, it's a real pleasure. But the weather is far from reliable. Within a few minutes it can turn ...

Shortly followed by hail, lightning, and thunder, hurrah!

A bug's life

Summer also awakes small things. There are bugs of all shapes and sizes.

Some are nastier than others; but most are harmless.

Summer arrives

Summer officially starts on 1st June, but it snowed for two days just to remind us who is boss. But it's toasty and sunny now and the forest is growing a good, green beard. Summer has arrived.

Spring watch!

Spring certainly has arrived; white has become browny-green, and there are animals everywhere! The challenge is to capture them on my old Nokia with its wide angle lens! The star of the show is the elusive yet imperious bear.

Porridge.

In the spring the bears awake and hunt for a feast; we share a joint fear of being the feast, yet a desire to be close to it. The bear is big, the bear is fast, and the bear may well eat you!

Hare today.

Gone tomorrow.

The hares epitomise the spring. They dart around with unbelievable energy and fill the whole forest with a sense of life. Basically, there's a reason why we call spring, spring. Suddenly the forest is alive! There are birds, big and small, sounds of life everywhere, and the plants are sprouting everywhere.

We also see a lot of foxes, and have seen a few elk - a very large and very strange animal! 

But back to the bear, I have been a little too close to a bear a few times. They dart towards our car, sometimes in pairs, and growl.

If you can hear it breathe, you're too close. That's my shoulder in blue. AH!

Marsh; mellow.

For months I wondered what was beneath the big open expanses of snow. Marsh, naturally, but I didn't quite believe it till I saw it. Here it is ... vast marshness, delimited by forest.

Marsh; mellow.

This completes a nice collection

Winter views

The winter is beautiful, if very cold, and I love the snow covered trees.

Snow covered evergreens

In early April we had our first day fully above zero, but the snow takes forever to thaw and there are endless stunning days, often quite warm, with snow keeping everything pristine looking and still not much sign of life.

Sun bathing snow.

I saw someone had written 'spring as arrived' in the snow. It was -10C and it felt really warm so it seemed a reasonable expression; the irony didn't hit me until I saw someone had also written in the snow 'spring hasn't arrived'. If you can write in the snow, perhaps that's enough of an indicator that spring is yet to arrive!

To the wilderness

A bridge over troubled ... ice.

Over the bridge, away from the city, and to the great Siberian forest as the sun disappears behind the trees.

Cold but cosy!

Siberian forest at night

Omsk railway station

Omsk railway station is a really good effort. And there's something cool about reading the departure board in a train station and seeing Beijing and Moscow as nonchalant neighbours.

Siberian forest at night.

I headed north for 24 hours. The beautiful Siberian forest trundled by, faintly lit by the sepia bulbs in the train with snow jossling around in the foreground. It was too dark to photograph but I had plenty of time to sketch it - see above.

Phantom metro

Perhaps more wierd than going underground and coming up in a different place, is to go underground to a metro station but to come out where you started! Welcome to Omsk where the Metro recently celebrated its 20th birthday, but is yet to Open!

Welcome to ... where you just came from.

Above is a lovely Soviet building, framed by the exit of a Metro station.

Omsk bench redemption

The sun came out and Omsk redeemed itself (with a bench, of course!). Above is the beautiful church in the centre of Omsk on a massive roundabout, with a pair of classic benches sited perfectly to absorb the view.

Omsk also sports a small number of boulevards with shops and cafes, with a good bench population to accompany them. This lady has been waiting since Victorian times for someone to keep her company on the bench. The guy across the road seems hesitant ...

He didn't have an evident name, so we called him Stalin. I say go for it Stalin, she seems nice!

Bleak Omsk

The Russian riviera.

I thought I'd made friends with a taxi driver at Omsk airport. If there's a rule of travel, it's that you've never made friends with a taxi driver at an airport; you just occasionally think that you have. He agreed to help me find an apartment and if that failed, to find a hotel. We agreed on 200 rubles ($6).

He called a friend who arranged to meet us in a reasonable part of town and show me an apartment. It was over priced but it was 'elitnayar' according the esteemed salesman. It wasn't where they said it was; it was dark and gloomy; I didn't think I'd leave there alive. I told the driver what I thought, and he said we should look anyway, and then move along. The esteemed salesman never arrived, so off we went to the hotel. 'Elitnayar', we joked. What a cowboy!

After some entertaining stories about his time in the KGB alpha group in Angola (lots of machine gun impressions) the driver delivered me to the hotel.

      'Here we are. 7,600 rubles please' ($250).

I expressed my shock.

       'forget about the 600, let's go with 7,000',  he said.

       'Who's the cowboy now?' I asked!

After some steely patience, including opening the door as he tried to drive us to the 'police station' to help mediate (he wasn't happy to use the hotel as a mediator), and resisting his friend's efforts on the phone to be a 'dispatcher' and confirm that the price should be precisely 7,600 rubles, I bargained him down to 500 rubles and we parted ways.

       'Can I have another 200 ... pleeeease' he asked.

The trees add character to the already beautiful view.

Nevermind, I thought, I'll take a walk along the riverside. Another epic fail as I found myself thigh deep in powder and a biting wind cut straight through me. I was the only one who fancied a promenade, it seemed.

Welcome to Omsk!

A Swiss bench

If Switzerland is the epitomy of civilization and the bench is a symbol thereof, we should expect find a gem or two in this little neutral mountainous watch-making chocolate-sucking land of cold, punctual people.

It should not come as a surprise then, though it will no doubt still be a delight, to read that I stumbled across this beautiful peach percher in that perculiar alpine state. Sleek lines, half backed and half backless, with real character on the lower half of the bench - quite unusual! - and it lights up at night, too. Thank you Switzerland and I hope we didn't make you late.

Reykjavik benchmark

Not to be confused with a bench

This piece of public sculpture sits so well in its surroundings. I'm a big fan. Probably best not to sit on it though.

Reykjavik was quite forthcoming with its artistic spirit. This stunning concert hall wins my 'favourite building on a tiny Island with only 300,000 people yet we think of it as so much bigger - it's punching above its weight, even more so than Boston' award.

And I particularly liked this wall art. All of this begs the question, though, what about the benches? I enjoyed looking over the bay from a sturdy cast iron / Nordic pine hybrid bench, but for me the winner was this beauty:

Star Trek film set

Iceland is essentially a film set for Star Trek. It's easier to believe it's on another planet than to think it is on earth somewhere.

The ground feels alive, and the grey grumbling sky is so intense it's as if I can hear it. But I can't. I can only hear the howling wind.

The spray from the waterfall lands on the ground and freezes. Everything is so bleak yet dramatic.

Or just dramatic!

Blue Lagoon

Turbid cyan waters, steaming before my eyes,

Turbulent cinereal clouds, overcast the sky.

Welcome to Iceland, a geological marvel,

And also a cheap brand of supermaket in England.

Copenhagen benchmark

Think outside the box. Inside the box.

Not a one trick pony, Copenhagen has an array of masterful benches. Above, near the university, a bench and chair in what is essentially a greenhouse. A perfect place to shield from the winter wind and continue reading that thriller.

A well poised bench, from which to ask well posed questions.

Busy capitals need serene squares, and this one includes a beautifully understated bench, with an extra-long wheel base, elegant arms, a classic frame, sufficient back support, and the all important wooden seat. Lush!

Copenhagen: the integrated bench

Real architecture should be an integral part of its broader environment, and what better commitment to that notion than to integrate benches into architecture? Copenhagen, which is Danish for 'bench heaven', excels at exactly that.

Integral to the museum, a bench.

Above we see a shining example of the integrated bench working to full effect. Relax, you're in Copenhagen. Integrating the bench into the architecture and the wider surroundings is an underrated part of the city's effect of making people feel welcome, rather than supposing we are an inconvenience.

On the right is a bench integrated into a museum which I wanted to visit but was too late (perhaps I didn't really want to visit). So I needed a bench, and what a fine one too. I sat, I watched, and I revelled. And I got a cold bum.

Below we have a majestic pair of benches, perfectly integrated into a classical arch. Sheltered, supported, but still bum chilling. Also, I don't know who would actually sit on those benches if it's not raining. So, they are for a rainy day. Literally.

Save it for a rainy day.

Nefteyugansk first look

The local power station has made a special effort to look its best today

Power station: 'wickedly good looking' according to a survey.

The city hospital is sturdy looking,

Hospital: sturdy

The original accommodation in the city was the 'barracks', charming corrugated steel constructions.

Barracks: 'charming'.

And the closest thing to a shopping mall has some fake palm trees outside. It's cold here, and these trees are so wishful that it's not actually depressing, it's kind of sweet.

Fake palms in the Siberian winter: 'endearing'.

Perfect murder

The build up of icicles above walkways worries me; spring will be perilous!

Ice magic: death from above.

The journey to work

I tried to make my way from Tyumen to Nefteyugansk on foot ...

but after a respectable attempt, I decided that the 700 km would be best covered by train.

The train was, much like a history teacher, cold on the outside but warm on the inside.

Tyumen and a little lady

We went for a brisk walk in Tyumen and wandered in and out of the ice sculptures,

Ice palace in Tyumen.

some of which had some cheeky product placement, including this interactive sculpture which a young lady was enjoying sliding down.

Ice age in Tyumen.