Who the Hell was Stroganoff?

I’m out traveling again. No need to say where. It’s almost become an habit. I survived another trip on the old Antonov 24, and arrived safely on Putin’s side of the border.

The driver took me to the hotel. Then I went to the café to get a dark Piligrim and something to eat. Irina was behind the counter, with a shy smile as usual. She gave me the menu, and I looked through it to find something to eat. Pizza? No, it’s terrible. Some Russian dish? I found beef Stroganoff on the menu. An international dish, but at least a Russian name.

 But who the Hell was Stroganoff? The chef who invented this popular dish? I Googled it and found the answer. Beef Stroganoff goes back to a Russian family of very rich merchants, during the Tsar era. The beer was good and the Stroganoff was eatable. I asked Irina for another beer, but not another Stroganoff.

Today I was working with our Russian collaborators. Not much to say about it, not much I’m allowed to say about it. But the lunch was good. Seafood from arctic waters. Herring and cod and caviar.

Then I started the trip back home, by car, through northern wilderness in early spring. Snow was mostly gone, but lakes still covered by ice, and no signs of green leaves yet.

We stopped at the cafe in Titovka, to get a cup of bad instant coffee and a rest. It’s become a habit.

When we passed through the Army town of Sputnik, I asked the driver if he had been in military service. I told him I had, in the navy, during the cold war (I will write about my merits in battle some time later).

 “You were our enemies,” I said, “the evil empire in the east.”

 Then we got a good laugh, on our way to the border between two countries that have never been at war.

 (Some pictures I took today, from top to bottom: Murmansk seen from the other side of the fjord. The cafe in Titovka, made from 3-4 old yellow railroad cars tied together. Not much of a cafe, but you can get a cup of coffee or a coke, and use the restroom for 15 Rubles. Nikel seen from the road ()my driver don't want to stop there). It was a sunny day, but the town was obscured by the smoke from the Nickel factory.)

Piligrim and pizza

It was a beautiful day in the north. Blue sky, sunny and no wind. I got off the plane and met with the driver. We got through the three checkpoints, filling out forms, checking passport and visa, and passport again.

It's always a somewhat stressing procedure. Something wrong? No. It's like a relief when you hear the sound of the passport being stamped by the officer behind the counter.

Then, we were on the way to Murmansk, about four hours drive, with Russian pop music from Radio Vania. We passed Nikel, which almost looked cozy today, and then Zapolyarny, Pechenga and Sputnik, where the road was incredibly bad; bumpy gravel road for some kilometers.

We passed through beautiful arctic landscapes. Not spectacular like the Colorado Rockies or the Swiss Alps, just overwhelming by its endlessness. Huge boulders and moraines, left behind by the glaciers that carved the landscape. Wide valleys and low and wavy hills, covered by snow and scattered birches. There are no leaves on the trees yet. Too early in the spring. It's still a month or more till the trees become green.

Finally, we passed the bridge across the fjord, and entered Murmansk, the world's largest city north of the Arctic Circle. The population is about 300.000, down from 500.000 in the Soviet days.

I checked into the hotel, and then went to the cafe to get something to eat. Irina was behind the counter, as usual. Black hair, red lips, white waitress-shirt with a red scarf. She's a chubby and cute girl. Always smiling, though she's working day and night for a salary which is just a fraction of mine. Life is not fair, and will never be.

I ordered something they called pizza, and a dark beer. Piligrim, local beer from Murmansk. The full name is “Piligrim Nord Svetloye”, according to the text on the bottle. Bad pizza, good beer. Very good beer. One of my favorites.

And I left quite some tips for Irina when I left. I think she deserves it >:)

(Some pictures I took today: An old mine in the hillside right outside Nikel. View of Murmansk from my hotel; note the Stalinist concrete blocks in the suburb on the hill; still decorated with old communist symbols,as you can see when you get close. A bottle of Piligrim dark beer on my table in the cafe, still waiting for the so-called pizza, and Irina behind the bar, counting today's income in the cashier machine.)

Russian break

The pace is high right now. The last three weeks I've only spent four nights in my own house.

I returned safely from Moscow on Friday 13th. Tried to book a seat in row 13, but it wasn't available.

Then I went straight to the mountains with the kids for the weekend. Nice weather, good skiing. Can't miss the last three weeks of this season.

Tomorrow I'm going to Russia again, to Murmansk this time. I'm not at all looking forward to the four-hour drive across the tundra.

Lots of traveling, but I don't complain, because most of the time I've been out skiing. And next weekend we're returning to the mountains >:)

(I took the picture above this weekend. Good snow and nice weather, a perfect day for taking the gondola to the top of the mountain. The top station carries the memories of recent blizzards.)

Back in the USSR

Not really. I just borrowed the title from that old Beatles song. The USSR is history, split into a number of more or less democratic and independent republics. I'm in the north-west corner of the biggest one; Russia, the land of Putin.

Yesterday morning, I took a plane up to the Paris of the North. It was one of these big jet planes, a Boeing 7-Something. It was windy on the coast. Very windy. The first approach for landing was aborted right before we touched ground, because the pilots struggeled to control the plane in the wind.

In the second approach, the plane tilted again. Out of the window, I looked straight into the white-topped waves of the roaring sea. I don't know how, but in some way, the skilled pilots managed to level the plane right before landing. It was a very unpleasant flight, a real adrenaline booster.

The next flight to Murmansk was on a good old Antonov 24, a small propeller plane, a piece of Soviet technology from the 1960s. It's a robust plane, built for harsh conditions, simple and reliable technology, if they just keep up with the maintainance program. I hope they do.

It's amazing how these small propeller planes fly in bad weather, and it feels quite comfortable. The small planes kind of flow on the air like a little bee, moving with the wind bursts, rather than trying to oppose it.

The Antonov 24 has nylon curtains in the circular windows, and there is full Russian service on board. It means vodka. I don't drink that stuff; it's poison, and a tragedy for the Russian society. Vodka is the main reason why the avergage expected lifetime of Russian men is less than 60 years.

When I arrived in Murmansk, my driver picked me up in the airport and took me to the hotel. The road from the airport to the city makes a detour into the forests. They started out in the wrong direction when it was built.

Moscow is a modern metropol, but Murmansk is very much like it used to be in the Soviet days. Old buses and Red-Army vehicles (and some brand new Lexus'es and BMW's) are driving in the streets. Huge nuclear-powered ice breakers are anchored on the bay.

A few miles out the fjord is the town of Severomorsk, with the big navy base and shipyard. During the cold war, it was the headquarter of the Soviet Northern Fleet. It's still in operation, but the submarines are not as many as they used to be.

Murmansk was bombed to bits and pieces by the Germans during the 2nd World War, and then rebuilt in typical Soviet style architecture. The suburbs on the hills accommodate thousands of people in massive gray concrete blocks.

I'm back in the USSR >:)

(Pictures taken today and yesterday. The first picture shows central Murmansk, with the big cranes on the harbor and the fjord. In the upper right corner is the Alyosha statue, a 35m (110 feet) high concrete statue overlooking the city, a WW2 memorial built in the 1970s. The second picture is a close-up of the Antonov 24, parked on the snow-covered runway of the Murmansk airport last night.)

Christening of Christ

I've been somewhat reluctant to traveling to Russia recently. In Moscow there has been big protests against Putin, since the irregularities in the recent election. More than 100.000 people have gathered in demonstrations in the city center.

In Murmansk a nuclear-powered submarine caught fire in the shipyard. According to Russian authorities, the situation is fine, and no radioactive waste has leaked.

History has shown that when Russian authorities say everything is under control, there are reasons to be worried.

What would you choose? Anti-Putin demonstrations or a burning nuclear submarine? Where would you go? Moscow or Murmansk?

This week, my choice was easy: I take both.

According to our Moscow office, the situation is OK. There's no risk traveling to Russia, really.

My trip had a bad start. The airport in my hometown was closed due to fog, so I missed my subsequent flight with Aeroflot to Moscow. Fortunately, I got an alternative route, with Air Baltic to Riga, and connection to Moscow. I arrived in the hotel at midnight, some four hours delayed.

Yesterday was a exhausting. I was in a work meeting from 9am to 6pm. Then a driver took me through the Moscow traffic jam to the airport. I had a quick (so-called) dinner in the airport, before boarding the plane to Murmansk together with a Russian colleague. I'm completely dependent on help from a translator to get my job done.

Today is a popular Russian holiday, the epiphany. My Russian friends explained to me that they're celebrating the "Christening of Christ", when Jesus was baptized in the Jordan River. Maybe that's when he got the nickname Christ?

The celebration started last night, with mass in the churches, and hordes of Russians seeking frozen rivers and ponds. They cut a hole in the ice and jump into the water, three times, while saying magic and saving prayers.

Many people didn't show up at work today. I'm not sure if it was due to the dives in the cold water, or the following vodka.

Tonight I'm just relaxing in the hotel, reading and writing. Mission completed. There's nothing more i need to do.

Tomorrow I'm flying back home on an Antonov 24, an amazing old propeller plane from the Soviet times. This type of plane was built from 1960 to 1980. There are still more than 1000 of them flying. The plane feels pretty safe. It's shaking like Hell on start-up and take off. But at cruising speed, it's quite pleasant. It's a simple and robust aircraft, built for hostile conditions.

I've taken this route before, but only in summer time. Tomorrow will be another interesting experience; flying on an Antonov 24 across the white tundra >:)

(This trip, I've only been working and traveling, no opportunity to take pictures. Above is a picture I took last summer, onboard the Antonov 24. A nice stewardess was serving lunch, with all kinds of Russian drinks)

Things I hate about flying

Last year, I was traveling quite a lot, way too much for a normal family life. My resolution for 2012 should be to travel less.

When I updated my trip recording yesterday, I made a quick count. In 2011, I went on 19 business trips, to a variety of interesting places:

• Milan, Italy.
• Doha, Qatar.
• San Antonio, Texas.
• Moscow, Russia (7 times).
• Murmansk, Russia (4 times).
• Domestic, northbound (2 times).
• Domestic, southbound (4 times).

Fortunately, we use video conferencing quite extensively. We hardly do domestic travel anymore.

There are a few things I really dislike about flying. This is my top 3 hate list:

1. Sitting in a center seat: A long flight squeezed between two fat guys, and fighting for the arm rest is a nightmare. I want a window seat.
2. When the guy in the seat in front of me leans his seat backward and steals half of that small space I have to read and write and work. The seats should be fixed in the upright position.
3. Airport security is such a hazzle; taking off clothes and shoes, emptying pockets, taking lap top out of the bag, long lines.

I shouldn’t complain too much. I know I’m lucky and privileged, traveling to (some) nice places, and even getting paid for it.

Flying is not all bad. There are things I like about it too:

1. Sitting by the window looking down on interesting places as we pass by.
2. Getting some undisturbed time to read and write.
3. The comfort in business class. I don’t fly business class very often, only on flights taking 6 hours or more. Most of the time I fly Economy Extra, to be able to re-book flights as needed.

My ambition for 2012 is maximum 10 trips. That’s acceptable.

Anyway, next week I go again; booked my tickets today.

(I took the picture above last fall, on-board an Aeroflot plane, over the western part of Russia. The clouds make up an interesting pattern of almost parallel lines. I'm not sure what's causing this, but it was a nice view.)

On the bumpy road

Can you write a novel while riding in a car through the wilderness of northern Russia? I can't, and I didn't even bother to try, because it would just make me sick.

I have two so-called novels in progress, sometimes in progress at least. The first one is a crime novel. I ran into some problems with it, some issues with the plot, and I'm kind of loosing the overview and control of things. I'm not quite sure what to do about it, so I started on a 2nd novel, which is more like a road novel. There's no plot, I just write, and I write longhand, in a notebook that I can always bring with me when I'm travelling.

Yesterday I wen't on a business trip to Murmansk, again.

I'm a little bit reluctant to domestic flights in Russia right now. They've had too many accidents this year. In the last plane crash, a couple of weeks ago, an entire pro-hockey team from the KHL (the Russian equivalent of NHL) was wiped out. Right now Russia is even ranked behind Congo on air-line safety.

So I chose a different route this time. I took a plane as far to the north and east as I could get, close to the Russian border. It's a two-hour flight, and I spent the time working on my (2nd) novel. Great!

The novel is about two old men escaping from the nursery home. Just like me, they're going up north, but by train and ship, rather than plane and car. Since I'm just a hobby writer, I don't have much time to do research. So I have to write about things I know and places I've been.

My Russian driver picked me up at the airport, and 15 minutes later, we crossed the border to Russia, which takes some time. There are two check points, one on each side of the border. About 100 km of the road goes through a Russian military zone. So there were more check points, in and out of the military zone.

It's difficult to build good roads on the tundra. The roads get very bumpy, because of the seasonal freezing and melting of the surface layer. Sometimes it feels like riding a roller coaster. Reading and writing in the car is out of question. The only thing I could do was to talk with the driver, about fishing and hunting and cars and Soviet history. He told me interesting things about every town we passed through. That's the way I like it, when the driver acts like a tourist guide as we go along.

After a four-hour drive through the wilderness, I arrived in my hotel in Murmansk. Then I could return to my novel, finally. I wrote a few pages before I went down to the restaurant, to get some food and a dark beer (Krusovice, Czeck beer; quite good). Then I returned to my room to write some more.

It's a bad novel, I admit, but I have lots of fun writing it. I don't know where it will end yet, maybe in Murmansk. We will see.

And the title of this post is inspired by Jack Kerouac of course. His novel is a lot better than mine >:)

(Half way between the Russian border and Murmansk, we stopped in a cafe in the middle of nowhere, to get a cup of coffee and a salomon sandwich. The cafe is that little yellow building to the right in the picture. I think it's an old freight car from the rail road company.)

Flying on an Antonov An-24

I had a relaxing Saturday morning; my mission is completed, just waiting for the plane back home.

I’m flying out of Murmansk on an Antonov An-24.This classical Soviet propeller aircraft was constructed by the famous engineer Oleg Antonov in the 1950s. From 1960 to 1978, more than thousand AN-24s have been assembled in the factory in Ukraine, for both public transport and military purposes.

I was left alone in Murmansk last night, when my Russian colleague went back to Moscow. This morning, I put my suitcase in the storage room, and took for a walk outside. The streets were quiet and empty, just a few old Russian cars and buses passing by. It's very different from Moscow, with it's modern buildings and abundance of German luxury cars. Murmansk still gives a Soviet feel, except that the Marx and Lenin posters are replaced by commercials. It was a nice and sunny morning, and it's the middle of July. It's supposed to be summer, but still it was pretty chill outside. No more than 10-15 degrees (50-60 Fahrenheit), too cold with just a T-shirt and a thin jacket.

Coming back from my short walk, I found a coach in the lobby, and sat down to read and write, and to do some people watching, interesting as always. Two German women went up to the reception and asked for a map with the sights of the city. The receptionist was apparently surprised, and had nothing to offer. I was surprised too. There's not much of interest to see. It's the huge Alyosha statue, the cranes on the harbor, the former Soviet navy base in Severomorsk, and the midnight sun. People go fishing and hunting on the Kola Peninsula, but nobody go to Murmansk for vacation.

The driver picked me up outside the hotel at noon, to take me to the airport. I'm trying a different route this time, going straight west, across the border, and then continuing on a domestic flights. It's the shortest distance, but not necessarily the shortest time. It's not easy to find effective transportation between the remote places in the north, and Saturday is not a good day for traveling. There are not many flights to choose from.


The international departure on the Murmansk airport was like a small cupboard. They don't have many international flights, possibly only this one. Security, check-in and passport control was smooth and easy. There were no more than 10-15 passengers on the flight. I like the lazy atmosphere of the small airports in the north.

An old yellow truck was tanking the plane when we boarded, climbing a short and narrow ladder. The engines started to bark, propellers gaining speed, and we were ready for take of. The plane was as noisy as a punk band, and shaking like a hard-rock drill. But, what the Hell, it was cool to fly on an Antonov.


It was a two-hour flight, above endless forests and lakes in the east, and fjords between rugged snow-capped mountains in the west. Half-way the cute stewardess served a decent lunch, a salami sandwich with vodka and wine, but I stayed with tea and orange juice today.

Yesterday, when we had completed our business tasks, there was a celebration. We had some snacks and drinks in the general director’s office, whiskey with ice, Oran single malt. I don't like that stuff very much (prefer beer). Anyway, there were a lot of toasts, as usual, and they proposed a toast to my great braveness, because I was flying on the Antonov to get back home >:D

(That's our Antonov, ready for bording. Beautiful plane, isn't it? I took the picture at the top on the short walk across the runway. I shot a few pictures through the window of the plane as well. That tank-like thing in the upper part of the pitures is the engine.)

Dostoyevsky City

I'm on the way to Murmansk again. I'm taking a different and shorter route this time. No need to fly via Moscow when I have nothing there to do. Today I'm traveling alone all the way, without my Russian colleague. It's somewhat more difficult, I'll admit, to get from the international terminal to the domestic terminal,by bus, finding the right check-in desk, getting through the security. Some language problems, but I made it, by a mix of English and body language, and the five Russian phrases I know.

Right now I'm in transit in this fabulous city, built by Peter the Great in the 18th century, on the swamps by the Finnish Bay. It was the capital of Russia for 200 years, untill the last Tsar, and his family, were killed by the communists in 1917. The city has been known by several names, Petrograd,Leningrad, and now, St Petersburg. I call it Dostoyevsky City.

The first time I was here was in 1990, at the dawn of the Soviet Empire. I got to see all the major sights; the Winter Palace, St Isaac's Cathedral, the Russian Museum, with the famous paintings by Ilya Repin (Ivan the Terrible Kills his Son, Barge Haulers on the Volga), the Dostoyevsky Museum, and Nevsky Prospect. The latter is the main street, where Raskolnikov was walking in his anguish and pain after killing the money lender (Crime and Punishment).

The Dostoyevsky Museum is in Kuznechny Street. It's in his apartment where he lived, a major part of his life, except when he was in prison in Siberia, or forced to serve as a soldier in the Army. It's the place where he wrote many of his great works. Very interesting to see, for a Dostoyevksy fans, and worth a visit if you come to St Petersburg.

Today I'm only in transit for a couple of hours. My plane to Murmansk is departing in 45 minutes. I hope I get the chance to visit this city again soon. Like Moscow, St Petersburg has changed alot in the last 20 years.

The only remnant of the Soviet era is the airport code, which is still LED, for Leningrad >:)

(It's St Petersburg in the background. I took the picture right before landing at the Pulkova Airport, after fasten seat belt signs were on. Not allowed, but I just switched my camera on for a couple of seconds.)

Day off

My trip to Russia yesterday was cancelled.

I went to the travel agency in the morning, to get my visa. My flight to Moscow was at 12:30 am, and I had to get my visa before 11 to get to the airport in time.

I didn't.

Nothing to do about that. You can't push Russian authorities. I jumped on the plane back home. We're trying to reschedule the trip to Murmansk for next week, or the week after.

Today is a national holiday, the celebration of the Ascension of Christ (for those who still believe in fiction written 2000 years ago). Little boy and I went for a bike trip, though the town centre, and down to the harbor. on the way back home, we stopped by a small cafe in the old part of town and bought buns and coffee (for me) and Coke (for little boy).

So, I got a day off at home, rather than being at work in Russia.

That's perfectly fine with me >:)

(I took some pictures when we biked around on the harbor. The one above shows the Leif Erikson statue; you know, the guy who discovered America in the 10th (or 11th) century, almost 500 years before Christopher Columbus)

Alyosha

Moscow was sunny and warm when we departed. In Murmansk it was snowing when we arrived. It was right after midnight, but who cares? There's not much difference between day and night at this time of the year.

Yesterday, we had our main business meeting. It was an interesting experience. The guards at the entrance were scary, but polite. The CEO was friendly, but reminded me of Brechnyev. He sat in a big chair behind a heavy wooden desk in his huge office. We gathered around a table right in front of the desk. The leader of our delegation introduced us one by one.

Then we went to action. I spent the day digging into technical details, to decide on what we wanted to purchase, and in which form. At the end of the day, we returned to CEO's office, and presented a list of our wishes, and a proposal for collaboration. I answered some scientific questions, with simulataneous translation to Russian by a guy from our Moscow office.

That's all I can say, but I got some cool ideas, and funny fractions of dialogue, that I'll put into my fiction writing some time.

In the evening, we had a sightseeing around Murmansk, before we met in a nice restaurant, to celebrate the upcoming collaboration with our Russian (maybe) business partner. We exchanged toasts and wishes for the future (with vodka of course), and had a great meal; pancakes with sour cream and Russian caviar for starter, and baked halibut as main dish.

Today, we had a quick morning meeting with another company. I had less then an hour to do the technical study, before we gathered around the table in the CEO's office. He was ahappy to see us, and wanted to make a toast, for our (possibly) upcoming business relations. He pulled up a bottle of cognac and served it in glasses and amounts that are usually associated with wine. With just a cognac for breakfast, we went to the airport and returned to Moscow.

Mission completed, I'm on my way back home, one more flight to go >:)

(On our sightseeing trip around Murmansk, we stopped by the 36m (120 feet) high Alyosha statue, a 2nd World War memorial. I took several pictures with my cell phone, including the one above. Even though we're in mid may, doesn't look much like spring; still snow on the ground, and no leaves on the trees. That's fine with me, I'm used to it)

Change of plans

I'm back in the North. It's nice up here at this time of the year. There's no signs of spring yet, no flowers, no leaves on the trees, mountains still covered by snow. But it's light all day, though the midnight sun is, officially, still two weeks away.

I planned to stay for the entire week, to work in our office in the North, but now the plans are changed. Tomorrow I'm going back South, and then East, before turning North again. I'm going to Moscow, and then to Murmansk, the largest city beyond the Arctic Circle.

I've never been there before. It used to be behind the iron curtain. Now it's part of our business playground.

It's gonna be very exciting. I'm looking forward to it ... more to follow >:)

(I took the picture out of the window in my hotel room 15 minutes ago, an hour past midnight, which is the true midnight, if you subtract one hour for daylight saving time. Anyway, we have a full-day meeting tomorrow. It's time to call it a day)