Siberian Air #2105

As we cross eastward in the dark ether, gently rocking across the wings, the thin line separating earth and everything else slowly becomes the origin for an increasingly colorful display. The future. The gentle contours below, what I thought were the plains and hills of Siberia, are actually some of the most expressive clouds I’ve ever seen. I know this for certain because of an eerie effect: the sun shining from below the horizon. Clouds had formed a fake horizon just above the real one, leaving a hole for the sun to shine through, fiery orange. As cold as it is all the way up here, this would not be a bad place to die.

First impression: while we were told we would have an apartment to ourselves, it appears that we are living with a family, all three of us and a gentle, wiry naturalist papa who picked us up and arranged some breakfast (largely prepared in advance). Small apartment on the outskirts of Ulan Ude—the very out outskirts, but Siberia nonetheless. Looks no different than any number of flat Eastern European places I’ve envisioned, notwithstanding an immanent snowfall; but so far, it’s just sunny and dry looking outside.

Over a cottage cheese like dish, chai, cheese, eggs, breads and biscuits, Papa talked of his work at the ecological organization where we’ll be working (children, eco-tourism—tourism in Russia meaning any domestic travel outside of one’s home town, the only travel of its kind available under the old USSR), his interest in Lake Baikal (big—over a thousand miles big), and some details regarding our work (okay, rough possibilities). One of those things is going to Lake Baikal. I can’t wait.

Wonder what will happen with Genya…will he be able to stay with us here? We’ll see; papa’s son is home from university now too, a potential problem considering it’s his room we’re sleeping in. There are kniga skhoola from floor to ceiling, old animals, guitars, toys, a giant politicheskaya karta mira sovetskaya on the wall. I’m on the top bunk once again.