The “Paris of Siberia” is the nickname the local guides have given to Irkutsk – which sounds completely oxymoronic. Like calling it a diamond in a goats ass, right?

But it turns out that despite the fact Siberia is frozen solid 8 months out of the year, the descendants of all those intellectuals, and Jews, and Poles, and Ukrainians, and anyone else who pissed off Stalin and found themselves on a one way train to this vast wasteland, eventually developed it, and while it’s not Paris by a long shot, Irkutsk does have its own quirky charm.

We spend our first day visiting some cute churches (Russian Orthodox – so women are given scarves to cover their heads before entering)

and monuments to a bunch of people that would’ve meant more to me if I were better at history.

The Angara river runs through the city, and there is a promenade alongside it in the center of town where lovers have hung locks much like the bridges in Paris.

There is an area full of charming wooden houses with colorful shutters that were built in the beginning of the 20th century, most in various states of dilapidation

juxtaposed against some grim Soviet utilitarian style apartments. We even see a few actual Russian brides, as Friday is a big day here for weddings.

We dine out at a place called ‘The Bulldog.’ By and large the things we are served look and taste familiar. There is a strange fern like vegetable they use that tastes like asparagus- and a wide variety of berries, some I’ve never seen before.

And a lot of really exceptional vodka.

The next day we are up early for our trip to Lake Baikal, the largest (by volume) freshwater lake in the world. The lake is about as long as the distance from LA to San Francisco, a mile deep, and very, very cold.

We take a road that apparently only exists because of Dwight Eisenhower- Kruschev ordered it built for his visit that was cancelled due to some missile crisis (again, I am crap at history) but the people of Irkutsk are thrilled to have it as it’s the only direct route to the lake.

We pass miles and miles of forest occasionally dotted by small villages.

 

Siberia is one of the most sparsely populated place on the globe, given the harsh weather conditions. It’s the peak of their summer, but we are all wearing light jackets.

We stop first at the Lake Baikal museum which serves to explain the geological significance of the lake – which exists on a fault line and experiences a lot of seismic activity. There is a small aquarium with examples of sea life which amounts to a few, uninspiring (but we will later discover, tasty) smallish grey fish. There is also a chubby native seal called a Nerpa. They sell stuffed ones all over town.  There are two of them at the aquarium in a murky tank where they swim listlessly to and fro for the tourists.

Then we head down to a pier and board a boat. We see just a few boats and no other recreation at the lake, because it is so cold. Baikal freezes over in the wintertime when it becomes popular for skating, skiing, and snowmobiling, but even in the middle of summer the warmest the water gets is about 40 degrees. The lake is so large and so cold it generates its own weather, which this day was brisk and drizzly.

Still the boat ride was invigorating with views of lakeside villages and snacks and more vodka and some folk music being performed below deck.

Afterwards, we visit an open marketplace where I buy some bangles. Jade comes from the river, as does a purple stone found only in Irkutsk called Charoite.

The we have a lavish multi course lunch in a lakeside hotel. Here we try the tasty local fish which has a firm flesh and flavor a lot like salmon.

After lunch some local shaman burn what appears to be a pile of bread and foodstuffs in a hibachi grill and bang some drums offering a blessing. (I am told they burn white foods as an offering to the spirits)

Then it’s an hour back to the hotel and a couple hours to rest before they take us first to the great statue of Babr, a storybook tiger who lives in the forests and rescues sables – so we can make a wish on its claw,

then to a cute outdoor shopping area

where Kevin purchases a Putin nesting doll (inside you find Yeltsin, Gorbachev, Stalin, and a wee little Lenin) and we eat at a silly place called Love Story that has live entertainment of the folk singing/pulling guests onto the floor and dancing sort. The food is very good, salads and pate and cheeses and prosciutto with melon and raw tuna and salmon.

We are still full from lunch so pick at all the starters and pass on the entrees when they are offered. We also enjoy several shots of vodka, which I later learn is lower proof than US vodka.

And here I thought I’d developed an incredible Siberian capacity.