Upon getting to work, I found an e-mail from Hanna-Kaisa waiting for me in my Inbox. She and her friend Timo were my first guests in this travel and hosting society I've been a member of since around March 2005. While Moscow by itself does not figure too highly in the itinerary of backpackers and independent travelers -mainly due to overlong visa procedures and tedious registration rules, with most preferring to move on without going beyond the three-day grace period before notifying the local immigration office becomes mandatory- even by this measure it did take a while for anyone to ask me for accommodation.
In fact Hanna-Kaisa only asked for accommodation last month in turn after I had written her asking for hosting in Helsinki. The two, however, are the most charming guests one could ever hope for; they even inspired two of my friends and eventual companions to ask about becoming members. Mo mhuirnín, too, duly got into the spirit (not really difficult, since she's a budding adventurer herself) and volunteered to take the two around during their unfortunately too brief stay in Moscow. It was only Timo's allergic reaction to cats that prevented the two from actually staying over at my flat. Otherwise we would've thought nothing about hosting them for a week or even a fortnight. I think an account of their stay is languishing around somewhere in my Draft box and should promptly be brought out for the Teeming Millions out there.
Last we saw them, they were on their way to Omsk from Moscow to meet up with a Finnish friend studying in the foothills of the Urals (it must be recalled that Omsk is also known Ruy-wide as the hometown of Yulia's Dad and a rockin' town where Maria of Murmansk's guitarist boyfriend Andrey visits for gigs from time to time, apart from being the home of Siberian Cossacks and an important rallying point for heroic-tragic White Russian general Aleksandr Vasiliyevich Kolchak during the Russian Civil War) before continuing on the Trans-Siberian Express to Ulan Bator and Beijing.
Although it shouldn't surprise anyone that tourist traffic across the frozen wastes of Siberia continues to be busy all throughout winter (indeed, I still remember how an unusually casually attired middle-aged couple I was on queue with for an opera at the Bolshoi on my first winter here in December 2003 dryly told me how they no longer kept track of the days since setting off through China from Australia on the Trans-Siberian Express) I was still much impressed with the two Finns, who expect to be on the road until the end of March, traveling to Vietnam, Laos, Thailand - as far as their money would last them. They even asked us about passage down the Malaysian peninsula to Singapore on the Oriental Express. They are living a dream I've had for almost a decade.
Anyway, Hanna-Kaisa told me in her e-mail that she had just arrived from the holy mountain in Western China; "3099 metres and about million steps but it was worth it", she recounted in the first line. She must be referring to Emeishan in China's western Sichuan Province, one of the four mountains sacred to Buddhism.
(These shouldn't be confused with the five holy mountains of Taoism, which counts among its ranks the venerable Tai Shan. In a previous life my dear friend Meimei from Shandong by way of Yamagata planted in me a pilgrim's desire to one day pay respects to Tai Shan's towering peaks. Since taking up Chinese studies around 10 years ago I've imagined these holy mountains in my mind's eye as shimmering visions of craggy cliffs whose feet lie shrouded in mists and fog. Scenes so beautiful and so true they've been standardized and produced for mass consumption, not unlike "genuine" Egyptian papyrus art or "authentic" Rembrandt reproductions - or spun off into hideous "tributes", such as Mozart bonbons or James Joyce walking sticks. In Moscow one can find such depictions in factory-rolled ersatz Song Dynasty ink scroll paintings sold in tatty shops in every perekhod or underground passage.
(I call it the Snow Crystal Paradox: any attempt to preserve beauty ultimately destroys the very thing that exudes it. All the more reason to admire the Japanese veneration of impermanence, asymmetry and imperfection. An excellent description of the four sacred Buddhist mountains and the five holy Taoist mountains is available
here.
In photos taken by Quang Tuan Luong from the terragalleria.com site practically all the following 10 traditional scenes of beauty described by Qing Dynasty poet Tan Zhongyue are displayed.
She and Timo had decided to travel separately for the moment, with Timo most likely exploring Shanghai's streets of gold or Beijing's cobbled avenues. "He wanted to see the big cities and I wanted to head to the countryside," Hanna-Kaisa explains. (I myself would've had trouble choosing between the two: I have friends in Nanjing, Changchun, Dalien, Shanghai and Beijing while have always dreamed of going down Huanghe or the Yellow River, setting foot at the Potala Palace in Tibet, walking about in Guilin or visiting the Dunhuang Caves and the Mogao Grottoes.) They'll likely meet up in the southwest, which I take to mean Yunnan Province, which is the gateway to continental Southeast Asia. From there I can imagine them entering Laos through Phongsaly and taking in the mesmerizing Louang Prabang before moving on to Vietnam and the Mekong River.
While we face warnings of Arctic conditions tomorrow in Moscow, Hanna-Kaisa says it's no longer cold in China - at least near Chengdu in Sichuan Province. She's headed toward the south, where, she'll "stop for a longer while in monastery to learn some kungfu."
Her road actually will take her northeast, to the legendary Shaolin Temple near the village of Dengfeng in the Songshan mountains in China's central Henan Province. Shaolinsi is probably the most famous temple in China, less for its long history and role in the development of Buddhism, but mainly for its association with martial arts or Wushu Chan. Every Russian who has seen Jackie Chan's (or more recently Stephen Chow's) movies would certainly know of Shaolin.
Maybe she'll send some photos soon. It would really be good to hear from her again.
In fact Hanna-Kaisa only asked for accommodation last month in turn after I had written her asking for hosting in Helsinki. The two, however, are the most charming guests one could ever hope for; they even inspired two of my friends and eventual companions to ask about becoming members. Mo mhuirnín, too, duly got into the spirit (not really difficult, since she's a budding adventurer herself) and volunteered to take the two around during their unfortunately too brief stay in Moscow. It was only Timo's allergic reaction to cats that prevented the two from actually staying over at my flat. Otherwise we would've thought nothing about hosting them for a week or even a fortnight. I think an account of their stay is languishing around somewhere in my Draft box and should promptly be brought out for the Teeming Millions out there.
Last we saw them, they were on their way to Omsk from Moscow to meet up with a Finnish friend studying in the foothills of the Urals (it must be recalled that Omsk is also known Ruy-wide as the hometown of Yulia's Dad and a rockin' town where Maria of Murmansk's guitarist boyfriend Andrey visits for gigs from time to time, apart from being the home of Siberian Cossacks and an important rallying point for heroic-tragic White Russian general Aleksandr Vasiliyevich Kolchak during the Russian Civil War) before continuing on the Trans-Siberian Express to Ulan Bator and Beijing.
Although it shouldn't surprise anyone that tourist traffic across the frozen wastes of Siberia continues to be busy all throughout winter (indeed, I still remember how an unusually casually attired middle-aged couple I was on queue with for an opera at the Bolshoi on my first winter here in December 2003 dryly told me how they no longer kept track of the days since setting off through China from Australia on the Trans-Siberian Express) I was still much impressed with the two Finns, who expect to be on the road until the end of March, traveling to Vietnam, Laos, Thailand - as far as their money would last them. They even asked us about passage down the Malaysian peninsula to Singapore on the Oriental Express. They are living a dream I've had for almost a decade.
Anyway, Hanna-Kaisa told me in her e-mail that she had just arrived from the holy mountain in Western China; "3099 metres and about million steps but it was worth it", she recounted in the first line. She must be referring to Emeishan in China's western Sichuan Province, one of the four mountains sacred to Buddhism.
(These shouldn't be confused with the five holy mountains of Taoism, which counts among its ranks the venerable Tai Shan. In a previous life my dear friend Meimei from Shandong by way of Yamagata planted in me a pilgrim's desire to one day pay respects to Tai Shan's towering peaks. Since taking up Chinese studies around 10 years ago I've imagined these holy mountains in my mind's eye as shimmering visions of craggy cliffs whose feet lie shrouded in mists and fog. Scenes so beautiful and so true they've been standardized and produced for mass consumption, not unlike "genuine" Egyptian papyrus art or "authentic" Rembrandt reproductions - or spun off into hideous "tributes", such as Mozart bonbons or James Joyce walking sticks. In Moscow one can find such depictions in factory-rolled ersatz Song Dynasty ink scroll paintings sold in tatty shops in every perekhod or underground passage.
(I call it the Snow Crystal Paradox: any attempt to preserve beauty ultimately destroys the very thing that exudes it. All the more reason to admire the Japanese veneration of impermanence, asymmetry and imperfection. An excellent description of the four sacred Buddhist mountains and the five holy Taoist mountains is available
here.
In photos taken by Quang Tuan Luong from the terragalleria.com site practically all the following 10 traditional scenes of beauty described by Qing Dynasty poet Tan Zhongyue are displayed.
Auspicious Light of the Golden Summit
Moonlit Night at Xixiang Pool
Fairyland of Jiulao Cave
Morning Rain at Hongchunping
Autumn Wind on Baishui Pool
Double-Bridge Spray at Qingyin Pavilion
Snow of Daping
Verdurous Views at Lingyan
Clouds in the Clear Sky above Luofeng
Night Tolls at Shengji
Moonlit Night at Xixiang Pool
Fairyland of Jiulao Cave
Morning Rain at Hongchunping
Autumn Wind on Baishui Pool
Double-Bridge Spray at Qingyin Pavilion
Snow of Daping
Verdurous Views at Lingyan
Clouds in the Clear Sky above Luofeng
Night Tolls at Shengji
She and Timo had decided to travel separately for the moment, with Timo most likely exploring Shanghai's streets of gold or Beijing's cobbled avenues. "He wanted to see the big cities and I wanted to head to the countryside," Hanna-Kaisa explains. (I myself would've had trouble choosing between the two: I have friends in Nanjing, Changchun, Dalien, Shanghai and Beijing while have always dreamed of going down Huanghe or the Yellow River, setting foot at the Potala Palace in Tibet, walking about in Guilin or visiting the Dunhuang Caves and the Mogao Grottoes.) They'll likely meet up in the southwest, which I take to mean Yunnan Province, which is the gateway to continental Southeast Asia. From there I can imagine them entering Laos through Phongsaly and taking in the mesmerizing Louang Prabang before moving on to Vietnam and the Mekong River.
While we face warnings of Arctic conditions tomorrow in Moscow, Hanna-Kaisa says it's no longer cold in China - at least near Chengdu in Sichuan Province. She's headed toward the south, where, she'll "stop for a longer while in monastery to learn some kungfu."
Her road actually will take her northeast, to the legendary Shaolin Temple near the village of Dengfeng in the Songshan mountains in China's central Henan Province. Shaolinsi is probably the most famous temple in China, less for its long history and role in the development of Buddhism, but mainly for its association with martial arts or Wushu Chan. Every Russian who has seen Jackie Chan's (or more recently Stephen Chow's) movies would certainly know of Shaolin.
Maybe she'll send some photos soon. It would really be good to hear from her again.
