#probably it's still winter in Yakutsk

[technojizz]

I just remembered you live in Siberia, sorry for these very lame questions youve probably answered before but I'm sooo curious

what's that like? (Other than very cold.) Have you ever lived anywhere else? How do you stay warm?

also what was your old url? I don't remember following this one lol

oh you probably follow me because of my spn blog i had like 5 or 6 years ago. i really don't remember what url i used to have fhsjaksjfd

i live in a big city, so in terms of infrastructure it's not really that much different from any other city i guess. the thing that i like is that i have a nice forest 5 minute drive away from my house, which is nice. i don't know if that's like a common thing in other countries? and also my uni and place of work are surrounded by forest. and we do have a lot of beautiful lakes and beaches and other landscapes that are easily accessed by a train or a car! and we also have altai mountains and dude this is the most beautiful (and geologically frustrating) place i've ever seen.

we have a subarctic climate (dfc/dwc type) so we have 4-5 months with a temperature above 5°C. the summer is pretty hot which is nice i guess exept that that's the time that i spend field working and boy i hate walking 12 hours a day under a burning sun trying to make my brain function. we basically don't have autumn or spring which is frustrating because i have to switch from my long sleeve to my parka and leave my collection of leather jackets and trench coats crying in the closet. the winter is pretty nice actually! once you get used to wearing 5 layers of clothes. i love having my 6 months no bugs season. we do have a couple on months when it's -25°C and that's the time when you don't want to spend too much time outside but when it's like -15°C and it's snowing and there's no wind that's the best weather that i can think of!

anyway i live in the south of siberia and the climate is really nice here comparing to the north. i once spend a winter in the city called yakutsk and this is a real nightmare. they have that thing called polar night so it's dark 24/7 outside. and it's also like -40°C all the time. but that's the year i had to see polar light so i'm not complaining.

my house is pretty warm! it has thick brick walls and good central heating that is also very cheap comparing to other countries. some of the older building that are crying for renovation are a little bit harder to live in when it's really cold outside but it's not like we have to sit home in our winter jackets or something

so um i hope i answered you question. i mean living here is not much different from anywhere else. i know that some people still think that living in siberia means living in a small cabin in the middle of nowhere and fighting with bears for food but dude i only wish it was like that

[primortravel]

New Post has been published on https://primortravel.com/16-interesting-and-surprising-facts-about-russia/

16 Interesting and Surprising Facts About Russia

Did you know that more than 5 million tourists visited Russia in 2019? While that may seem like a lot of people, Russia is a country that many people never visit. It is an underrated destination that you should add to your bucket list if you haven’t already. Russia is the perfect travel destination to experience delicious food, interesting culture, and beautiful architecture!

Are you thinking about traveling to Russia? If so, there are some facts you need to know before you go. Keep reading for 16 facts about Russia that will make you want to jump on an airplane soon. 

Fun and Interesting Facts About Russia

1. The World’s Longest Railway Is in Russia

Did you know that the longest railway in the world is in Russia? The Trans-Siberian Railway extends from Moscow to Vladivostock, a total of 5,772 miles. If you want to take your time and travel around Russia by train, the Trans-Siberian Railway makes it easy to do so. You can choose to ride in a first-class cabin or third-class seats, depending on your budget and the experience you want to have. 

The Trans-Siberian Railway even connects to China and Mongolia if you have the desire to visit those countries as well. Read more: Mongolia Pictures from the Russian Border to the Gobi Desert

2. Russia Is Home to A Lot Of Famous Literature 

If you are someone that loves literature, you probably know that Russia is home to some of the best and most esteemed writers. A few of the great Russian authors include Alexander Pushkin, Alexander Solzhenitsyn, Ivan Turgenev, and Vladimir Nabokov. The famous Russian authors that you may also know are Fyodor Dostoevsky (Crime and Punishment) and Leo Tolstoy (War and Peace) and Anton Chekhov (A renowned playwright known for The Seagull)

Many famous literary writers have a museum dedicated to them that you can visit in Russia. Most can be found in Moscow and St. Petersburg. Whether you are a superfan of their work or you don’t know who they are, you can learn something new about them and Russian literature by visiting their museums. 

3. Russia Has 12 Active Volcanos

Another one of the most surprising facts about Russia is that it has 12 active volcanos! Of those volcanos, Kamchatka is one of the most commonly visited due to its accessible location. 

If you are someone that loves nature and beautiful landscapes, you should visit Kamchatka. This active volcano has over 1,000 different species of plants. It’s also home to brown bears, sheep, and wolves.  You can choose to visit Kamchatka on your own or go on a guided tour. If you are unfamiliar with the Russian language, an organized tour is the easier option. 

4. Siberia Makes Up a Majority of the Land

Did you know that Siberia makes up 77% of the Russian Federation? Siberia is a large region in Northern Russia. While it makes up 77% of the land, only 20% of Russian people live in Siberia due to the harsh conditions. 

We drove across Siberia in the summertime and it was beautiful. Siberia reminded us a lot of Canada. And the people were so friendly and welcoming. If you love to get off the beaten path while traveling, you should visit Siberia. It is known for its natural beauty, and if you are lucky, you may even spot a reindeer. Read: Motherland Calls – Mother Russia Stands Proud Over Volgograd

5. Russians Have Plenty of Superstitions

Another interesting fact about Russia is that, in general, Russians tend to have many superstitions and traditions. One of the most common traditions is to only give flowers in odd numbers. Many Russians believe that an even number of flowers are only for cemeteries. If you give a Russian an even number of flowers, they make take it personally. 

In addition to not giving out an even number of flowers, Russian’s also believe you should not wear clothes inside out. If you put your clothes on inside out, the Russians believe you will be beaten. 

6. Russia Has One of the World’s Busiest Metros

The metro station in Moscow is the fourth busiest metro station in the world. The only busier metro stations are in Seol, Shanghai, and Tokyo. More than 2 billion people ride the metro each year in Russia.

One of the best things about Russia having a busy metro is that it makes it easier for locals and tourists to get around. There are trains for almost everywhere you could want to go. Read more: 17 Exciting Things to do in Moscow

7. Tetris Was Invented in Russia

Many people don’t know that the game, Tetris, was invented in Russia. In 1984, Alexey Pajitnov developed the first version of Tetris for the Electronika 60 computer. The game quickly caught on and spread throughout Russia. By 1987, the game was released in Europe and North America, and it became one of the most popular computer games in the world. 

8. Russians Learn Not to Smile

Another one of the best Russian facts is that Russians learn not to smile while growing up. While smiling in many cultures is a sign of happiness and friendliness, Russians don’t view it that way. To Russians, smiling is a sign of weakness and not showing one’s true feelings. Russians do smile at people they know well and care about, but not at strangers as many other cultures do. 

If you smile at a Russian on the street, don’t expect them to return the favor, however, we found that many Russians smiled and waved back while driving in Russia.

9. Russia Is the Largest Country by Land Mass

Based on the total landmass, Russia is the largest country in the world. That is excellent for travelers because that means there is plenty to explore. The total landmass of Russia is 6,601,665 square miles. That is equal to 11% of the world’s total landmass! For comparison, the next biggest country is Canada at 3,855,101 square miles. Read: 72 Funny And Interesting Facts About Canada

10. 54% Of the Russian Population Is Female

There is a big difference between the male and female population in Russia. While females in Russia make up 54% of the population, males only make up 46% Why is there such a big difference in the population? The population gap began during World War II when 25 million Russian soldiers died during the war. While there is no longer a war going on, men still have a much shorter lifespan than women do in Russia. 

Many Russians live in rural communities where the way of life is harsh. Russian men often fall victim to hunting accidents, poor health care, and too much vodka. We can attest that there was a lot of Vodka drinking in Russia at all times of the day.

11. Folk Dancing Is a Tradition in Russia 

Folk dancing is an important part of Russian history and Russian culture. Khorovod is one of the most common types of Russian folk dancing. This style of dance consists of people dancing in a circle while holding hands. 

Russians perform folk dances at festivals, markets, and in the theater. If you get the chance to travel to Russia, be sure to attend a Russian folk dance performance to learn more about the culture and traditions of Russia. 

12. 20% Of the Earth’s Trees Are in Russia

If you are someone that loves nature, this is a fact you will enjoy. Around 20% of all the trees in the entire world are in Russia. That ends up being around 640 billion trees. 

Many of the trees are in remote areas of Siberia. They are part of wild, untouched forests that are too cold to travel to. These untouched forests are home to the endangered Siberian Tigers. 

13. Russia Is Home to the Coldest Village in the World

Because Russia has harsh winter conditions, it is probably no surprise that Russia is home to the coldest village in the world. Winters in Oymyakon, Russia average -58 degrees Fahrenheit. The coldest recorded temperature in Oymyakon is -96 degrees Fahrenheit. 

Living in these harsh temperatures comes with its fair share of disadvantages. For example, if someone tries to wear glasses outside, the glasses will freeze on their face. Also, cars have to stay in heated garages or they will not start. 

If you want to take a trip to the coldest village in the world, it won’t be easy. To get there, you first have to travel to Yakutsk, and from there, it is a two-day car ride to Oymyakon. If you decide to visit Oymyakon, be sure to pack for winter. 

14. Russia Sold Alaska for 7.2 Million Dollars

In 1897, Russia sold Alaska to the United States for only 7.2 million dollars. With inflation, that is around 120 million dollars today. At the time, Russia needed the money, and there weren’t many Russian settlers living in Alaska. 

In addition to needing the money, Russia believed that selling the land to the United States would help offset Europe’s power. Check out: The Best Places to Visit in Alaska

15. Russia Has 11 Time Zones

Did you know that Russia is so big that it has 11 different time zones? Even though Russia has 11 time zones, it still isn’t the country with the most time zones. France has the most time zones due to all the small islands that are a part of France.  While Russia doesn’t have the most time zones, it still has a lot. If you decide to travel across Russia, you may experience jet lag without even leaving the country!

16. Lake Baikal Has More Water Than Any Other Lake on Earth

Located in Siberia, Lake Baikal is the largest freshwater lake in the world by water volume. It contains 23% of the world’s freshwater and has more water than all of the Great Lakes in North America combined.

Did You Enjoy These Facts About Russia?

Russia is an amazing place to visit if you love history, culture, and architecture. While Russia isn’t one of the most popular tourist destinations, it is perfect for anyone that wants to get off the beaten path. 

Did you enjoy reading this article on facts about Russia? Are you currently planning a trip to Russia? If so, check out our ultimate Russia travel guide to learn everything you need to know about traveling in Russia. 

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[mostly-history]

Wooden Airports in Russia:

Zhigansk Airport (Sakha Republic).

Zhigansk had a population of 3.420 in 2010, and there is no year-round access by road.  In the summer, the village can be reached by boat via the Lena River; when the river is frozen, there is a winter road leading to Yakutsk.

The airport has regular flights to Yakutsk and other settlements, and also helicopter flights.  The building pictured above is new.

Vanavara Airport (Vanavara, Krasnoyarsk Krai).

The Ilimpeya River cuts off regular road access, so it is only possible to arrive by car in winter.  North-east of the village is the airport, with a concrete runway as well as a forest clearway reaching for 3km, which suggests that it may have been longer in the past.  Flights from the neighbouring town are twice a week.

Igrim Airport (Igrim, Khanty-Mansi Autonomous Okrug).

This village is located on the right bank of the Sosva River. Several large natural gas fields were discovered and developed here during the 1960s, and an airport was built as a result.  The airport has a dirt runway, probably the only one in Russia, and there are flights to Khanty-Mansiysk (administrative centre of the okrug), Beryozovo and Tyumen.

Khatanga Airport (Khatanga, Krasnoyarsk Krai).

This major airport is the largest Arctic airport, and is in use 24/7 throughout the year.  It is a hub for tourist expeditions to the North Pole via the island of Sredny Ostrov.  As the Arctic regions are still sensitive military zones, Khatanga is the first stop that requires entry permission from Federal Security Service border guards.

Khatanga Airport has flights to Krasnoyarsk and Norilsk, as well as local flights.  It is only equipped for landings during good weather, but serves as a diversion airport for twin-engine airliners who suffer engine problems while flying over Siberia.  Interceptor aircraft were based here during the 1970s, and possibly also deployments from Bratsk (Irkutsk Oblast).

Uorgalan Airport (Uorgalan, Khabarovsk Krai).

This regional airport services work in the Kondyor Massif deposit of precious metals.

Chara Airport (Chara, Zabaykalsky Krai).

In the past, the village of Chara was the centre of the local gulag, and prisoners were brought here from Chita on small planes.  The runway was prepared by geologists who found deposits of copper and uranium nearby.

The airport is open only in the daytime, as it is surrounded by the high Kodar Mountains.  Flights run to Chita's Kadala Airport three times a week.

[todaynewsstories]

Poisoned Pussy Riot activist: Russia was sending a ′warning sign′ | Europe| News and current affairs from around the continent | DW

DW: How do you feel right now?

Pyotr Verzilov: Compared with last week, when I was still completely unconscious and not understanding what was happening, obviously it is a huge jump in the direction of being better. I am still not completely well. I would probably not run 1.5 kilometers or something like that. I still have problems with my eyes — very weird problems that basically don’t allow me to read with glasses or focus your eyes. So yes, some problems are still there.

But essentially this nerve agent — as everyone who is thinking about it has speculated — it most likely has a very short term strong effect and then basically dies out. And this is what we saw in my condition.

You life is obviously in danger. Are you afraid of returning to Russia?

No, I am definitely not afraid. I feel that Russia has the greatest people — we are not afraid of anything. If in Berlin it might make sense to walk with bodyguards, in Moscow it doesn’t make any sense because the people who want to do something bad to you, they can still do it. So if you do opposition politics in Russia you just have to be ready for any course of action.

Are you under police protection right now?

Yes. Once I go out or meet someone outside they escort you.

What do you believe was the main reason for your poisoning?

I believe the main reason was to give a warning sign that we should not dive too much into uncovering what has happen in Africa (Editor’s note: Three Russian journalists were killed in July while working in the Central African Republic) and the agency who knows how to work with poisons… it’s kind of their language now. So I believe the African investigation is more or less the reason.

Not the run on the pitch during the recent World Cup final in Moscow?

It could be, but at the same time we all saw how the Moscow police were struggling over the past two months to write some sort of new protocol in order to arrest for 15, 30 days and being unable to do that. Because the local court in Moscow just kept sending the papers saying: We are not gonna work with this.

You haven’t published an investigation of the Russian journalists killed in the Central African Republic. You said there is new information about this incident. When do you want to publish your findings?

This really depends of what we will be doing at stage two [of the investigation], and if we will be doing stage two at all because the publication of some sort of information right now might make investigation harder.

Would you like to stay in Berlin? With all the creative freedom here you can do a lot of political actionism…

Actionism is a language which is used first of all in Russia, because of the specifics of our political reality. Here in the West are billions of possibilities of self expression — you can enter politics, you can change something, do creative statements. Our actionism is a result of the lack of possibilities for self expression in Russia — in the West there a lot of them.

Pyotr Verzilov is a member of the Russian protest group Pussy Riot. He fell ill in Moscow two weeks ago and was flown to Germany for urgent treatment. He was released from a hospital in Berlin on Wednesday.

Riot Days: Pussy Riot’s acts of defiance

Starting a riot

All-girl Russian punk protest band Pussy Riot created an international storm in 2012 with a guerrilla performance in Moscow’s main cathedral that called for the Virgin Mary to protect Russia against Vladimir Putin, who was elected to a new term as Russia’s president a few days later. The protest attracted worldwide attention, and three members of the group were arrested.

Riot Days: Pussy Riot’s acts of defiance

State censorship

During the ensuing court hearing in Moscow in August 2012, Pussy Riot members Nadya Tolokonnikova (right), Maria Alyokhina (center) and Yekaterina Samutsevich (left) could be seen in a glass-walled cage. Support for the Pussy Riot activists came from all over the world.

Riot Days: Pussy Riot’s acts of defiance

Cause celebre

Pussy Riot’s iconic colorful balaclava face masks allowed supporters near and far to become “members of the band.” Here, a protester is arrested during a demonstration in support of Pussy Riot in 2012 in front of the Russian consulate in New York on the day a Russian judge found three members of the provocative punk band guilty of hooliganism.

Riot Days: Pussy Riot’s acts of defiance

No way out

Pussy Riot band member Nadya Tolokonnikova looks out from a holding cell during a court hearing in April 2013. Tolokonnikova was appealing her conviction for “hooliganism motivated by religious hate,” for which she was serving two years in a remote prison. Many international stars such as Madonna called for the Pussy Riot members’ release.

Riot Days: Pussy Riot’s acts of defiance

Back under attack

After their release from prison under an amnesty in late 2013, Pussy Riot were soon protesting again, this time at the Winter Olympics in the Russian city of Sochi. While they were preparing to sing the song “Putin Will Teach You to Love Your Motherland,” a spoof on state nationalism, a Cossack militiaman who was armed with a whip attacked band member Nadya Tolokonnikova and a photographer.

Riot Days: Pussy Riot’s acts of defiance

Fight the power

Masked Pussy Rot members leave a police station in Adler during the 2014 Sochi Winter Olympics in February 2014. Two members of the band, Maria Alyokhina and Nadezhda Tolokonnikova, were detained after they were wrongfully suspected of stealing a handbag from their hotel.

Riot Days: Pussy Riot’s acts of defiance

Getting the word out

By 2015, Moscow-based Maria Alyokhina (left) and Nadya Tolokonnikova increasingly traveled Europe to continue campaigning against Russian President Vladimir Putin. Here they answer questions from the audience at the 23rd Sziget (Island) Festival on Shipyard Island in Budapest, Hungary, on August 14, 2015.

Riot Days: Pussy Riot’s acts of defiance

Part of Banksy’s world

Here, in September 2015, Pussy Riot’s Nadya Tolokonnikova and Maria Alyokhina performed at the closing party of the “Dismaland” project by graffiti artist Banksy. The street artist described his subversive, pop-up exhibition at the derelict seafront Tropicana lido in the UK as a “bemusement park.”

Riot Days: Pussy Riot’s acts of defiance

How to start a revolution

Pussy Riot co-founder Nadya Tolokonnikova wrote her own guide to individual freedom in the face of totalitarianism, “How to Start a Revolution,” which was published in 2016. She soon toured the book around the world, stopping in Berlin and at the Lit.Cologne literary festival (above).

Riot Days: Pussy Riot’s acts of defiance

Provoking the corrupt security state

In 2016, Pussy Riot were again indulging in political provocation at home, releasing a film clip to their new protest song “Chaika” that mocks corrupt and violent Russian security agencies – under whom the jailed band members faced “endless humiliations” – after it was revealed that the country’s chief prosecutor, Yuri Chaika, had links to the local mafia.

Riot Days: Pussy Riot’s acts of defiance

Trump meets Putin

Pussy Riot’s criticism not only targets Russian authorities: At this performance in a San Francisco theater in February, a caricature of Donald Trump accompanied Vladimir Putin on stage. During the event, they discussed the current state of human rights in Russia, and how LGBT individuals and political activists in prison are affected.

Riot Days: Pussy Riot’s acts of defiance

The struggle continues

On August 6, 2017, Pussy Riot members Maria Alyokhina and Olga Borisova held flares and a banner on a bridge near a prison in Yakutsk, Russia to protest the jailing of film director Oleg Sentsov. He was arrested in Crimea – which Russia annexed from Ukraine in 2014 – and convicted by a Russian military court of conspiracy to commit terror attacks. He was sentenced to 20 years in prison.

Riot Days: Pussy Riot’s acts of defiance

Live in Germany

In September 2017, the group performed their “feminist punk manifesto” in Germany at Frankfurt’s Künstlerhaus Mousonturm. Titled “Riot Days,” the concert is based on band member Maria Alyokhina’s eponymous book that describes her co-founding of Pussy Riot in 2011 with Nadya Tolokonnikova and Yekaterina Samutsevich.

Riot Days: Pussy Riot’s acts of defiance

Shutting down Trump Tower

In October 2017, the group stormed Trump Tower in New York City to voice opposition to Putin and Trump and the incarceration of political prisoners. Wearing their famous balaclavas, they held up a banner once again urging the release of Ukrainian film director Oleg Sentsov. Police closed the 58-story skyscraper for a half hour.

Riot Days: Pussy Riot’s acts of defiance

Protest on the pitch

Dressed as police officers, members of the collective invaded the pitch during the World Cup final in Russia, interrupting the game. According to the group, the goals of the protest were for the Russian authorities to free all political prisoners, stop illegal arrests at public rallies and allow political competition in the country. The members were sentenced to 15 days of jail time.

Author: Stuart Braun

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[originaldetectivesheep]

The Thirty and One Nights' Momentary Diversion - The Bones in the Valley

Tonight, a rally team takes a very, very wrong turn -- have they ended up lost in time as well as in space?  And they may be more lost that even that....

The Bones in the Valley

Amina took a deep breath, staring out through the windshield across the 'pass' – over, yes, the first ridge, but that was only a prelude.  Dense and barren the forested valleys pressed in ahead of them, twisting and buckling below the grim, uncaring peaks of the empty Dzhugdzhur Mountains.  Next to her, Alain leaned over the steering wheel, driving gloves held loosely in one hand, and raised an eyebrow. Amina didn't answer.  There was nothing to be done.  There was nothing to be done but go on, unless they wanted to turn on their GPS and declare that the last fifteen thousand kilometers and more, from Dakar across Africa, Europe, and Asia had been a colossal waste of time, and that they weren't interested in finishing this rally after all – all but within sight of Magadan on the cold Okhotsk Sea.

Amina shook her head again.  "I cannot.  The map is impossible – if the Russians mapped this place, in the Soviet days, they lied; none of this is here, and the elevation lines are all wrong.  There is no way through."

Alain gave the hint of a shrug.  "And?  And so we go back?"

Amina leaned back, staring at the roof of the boxy KAMAZ cabin.  "If there was a route from Yakutsk through these mountains, they would have made the highway here.  We will lose time – we will lose more money on fuel – but if we go into those mountains, and run out there, there is no one living there to get more from, no way we can ever be rescued. You're the driver; where you drive the truck, we follow.  But as the navigator, I vote against going ahead: this way was a good idea in Yakutsk, but now it is a dead end."

"You don't know Russians," Janusz, their mechanic and fixer, said, leaning up from the crawl-door into the cargo box, his awful French made even less intelligible by the rancid Chinese cigarette stuffed into the corner of his mouth.  "Russians, they say there's nobody anywhere – but I bet, we go along those mountains, we'll find some wildcat miners ripping a hole in one of them.  We'll trade cigarettes for diesel or kerosene or hooch and keep going; I could run this thing off a Chinese grease trap if I had to.  We can do it – it's not far – and when we get to the sea, we'll run on the beach, and whup everyone in by a half a day clear."  He took a big draw on his smoke, and barely managed to vent most of the stench cloud back into his own side of the truck.

Alain nodded.  "I agree with Janusz.  We have come too far to turn back now, and if we turn to make a way south-south-east, we must come to a town before we are out of fuel.  We must be brave – we've come more than halfway around the world, and we are not going to disappear in some ravine in the back end of Russia.  We will go on – we have another hundred-fifty-liter drum?"

Janusz nodded. "Yessir.  It's the last, but we ain't opened it yet."

"Then we have everything we need.  Amina, guide us by the compass, from this bearing: if the map is useless, we will drive off it."  Alain pulled his gloves back on and started the engine again with a rumble. "The Soviets might lie about which ridges were where, and be believed, but they cannot lie about the direction of the sea – and for that it is enough."

"Yes sir," Amina said, with less insubordination than she felt.  "From the current bearing, with estimated fourteen degrees west declination from true."  She took her notebook, stopwatch, and pencil out of the rudimentary glovebox, eyes on the speedometer and compass, determined to keep Team Kelendre on the map, or close to it, as long as she possibly could.

Alain had been right – crawling down, then up ridges, across switchbacks, further and further into the forested maze of these desolate peaks, was impossible for any rational kind of mapping, and Amina had given up before the sun started to sink down behind them.  They were still pointed more south than east, but how far they had come, exactly, and where they were relative to where they'd started were less than clear.  And now fuel was running low, and night was falling, and there was no sign of one of these wildcat miners' camps that Janusz had promised.  Unconcerned, Alain shrugged as they drew up to the crest of a ridge, having climbed the east face and looking to go south.  "So we will sleep in the truck tonight," he said, "and then pump in the last fuel tomorrow morning, and then –"

"No," Amina said, "maybe not.  What is that – what is that there?" She pointed off at a tall spike standing up out of the forest, down in the shadowed valley below them.  If it wasn't for the fact that they were a hundred kilometers from any road or known human habitation, it must surely be the dark spire of a wooden church, catching the light as the sun fell behind the mountains.

Now, Alain saw it as well, and braked hard, the heavy frame of the KAMAZ shaking as the thick tires caught and held on the crest of the ridge.  "Janusz – Janusz, what is that?"  The mechanic bestirred himself out of the cargo box with a grumble, and leaned, blinking, into the cab, then swore under his breath in his native Polish.

"A church – a church, in this damned wilderness.  And not any normal church – not any normal Russian church.  That's a church of the Old Believers – the ones who fled into the wastes when they killed the Tsar." Janusz's jaw was set hard, and all the color had drained out of his face.

"Would they have oil?  Something we could trade for?"  For Amina, a church meant a congregation, at least who'd raised it once, and that meant at least someone who might have a connection to the outside world.

Janusz shook his head, his face impossibly grim.  "Dziewczyna, they might not even have buttons. Not just since the revolution – some of these hermits, they've been living in the hidden places for three hundred years."

"Three hundred years or not," Alain said, turning the wheel of the truck to bring them down along the ridge in the direction of the steeple, "they must have water, and may have food to spare – and if they are not such hermits as you fear, they may know a way through the mountains to the coast.  We shall go, and we shall see what we find."  Janusz shook his head and ducked back into the cargo box; Amina pulled down on the hem of her shirt, self-consciously, and kept her eyes on the juggling shift of the compass.

As they descended the ridge and drew closer, more of the land about the church revealed itself: open in narrow patches where the forest had been cut away, squat brown houses in the ancient Siberian saltbox pattern nestled in under the verge of the trees.  There was a road that they came upon: a road that was barely more than a game trail, a muddy rip where no trees crew – and then they came up onto the town itself, amid the falling gloom of dusk, and with the furtive stares of the villagers from behind trees, fences, the corners of walls.

The town itself was barely thirty houses, dense and close about each other with garden yards cultivating the hardy root vegetables that alone could survive the brutal winter lurking only a few more weeks off.  But it was not the number of the houses that was strange, nor the tall log-and-wattle church standing up amid them like a dark monolith: it was the build of the houses, and the absence of any trappings of modernity.  In other parts of Siberia, these houses would have been roofed with corrugated iron; here, wooden shingles to match the wooden walls – wooden carts with wooden wheels in the dooryards, wooden fences joined post-and-groove.  There was not merely no technology – there was no industry, as if Janusz's darkest fears had been correct, and they had traveled, in a way, back in time to a Siberia before the communist revolution. The truck drew to a stop, as if Alain didn't dare to go further, and when he shut off the engine, silence fell like a pall all around about them.

In the silence, the people started to fade in – slowly shifting from the hiding places where they'd watched them come.  It was uncanny – unearthly.  Men in bloused smocks with long beards, long beards like mad monks or boyars out of the days of Peter the Great, women wearing babushka kerchiefs and long, severe peasant dresses of heavy, dark material – and all of them wary, cautious, silent, seeming to come forward, closer to the truck, without moving at all.  There was no one who'd look out of place in an old black-and-white newsreel from the First World War; if anything, a hundred years before was too soon – there was something about the ancient style of their costumes that echoed even further back.  What had Janusz said?  When had these Old Believers first left the world behind?

Alain sat up, finally noticing some motion – someone, another long beard and a long black cassock like an Orthodox priest, coming forth from the church with steps that you could pick out.  He stripped off his gloves, laying them down across the yoke of the steering wheel, and pushed the driver's side door open, standing like a spaceman in his sponsor-covered fireproof coveralls amid these peasants.  Amina rummaged for a hooded sweatshirt to pull on over her tank top, and climbed out as well – if her shorts and bare legs were going to be of the devil here, it was best to get them out in the open as soon as possible.  She left her door swinging open, and Janusz half-climbed, half-scrambled out after her, probably as much not wanting to be left out as much as wanting to actually translate for them.

"Dobroy den," Alain said, raising a hand to the priest.  With so much of the course through Russia, they'd all studied up a little, and his Russian was correct enough, usually, if simple and badly pronounced.  "We are travelers – we search the way to Magadan.  What is this place?"

The priest nodded, looking the three of them over: the man in the coveralls patched with colorful designs and Roman letters, the dark woman trying vainly to pull her smock down over her exposed legs, the tall rawboned one in the back with his eyes darting around across the villagers.  "We bid you welcome, travelers, then, to the place called the Valley of Dry Bones.  May the peace of God be upon you."

Alain blinked, not getting all of that, not the fast-flowing Russian, not the ancient accent, not the Biblical allusion, and turned back to his companions.  "Janusz?"  The Pole hitched his thumbs into his belt and walked up to his driver's side.

"He says this place is the Valley of Dry Bones – I guess it's a Bible thing.  And we are welcome, as far as that goes."  He switched from French to Russian and addressed himself to the priest.  "My apologies, father; these two are from France, and they don't understand so well.  We are grateful for your welcome; we don't want to disturb your peace, so we will not need anything more than a place to put our…wagon," – he jerked a thumb back to the KAMAZ, which might as well be a UFO here – "and perhaps some water.  Forgive the assumption, but it appears that you and yours have withdrawn from the world here; if that's not the case, might there be one among your people who might know the way to Magadan, or to the ocean?"  Janusz tried his best to look like a supplicant, not quite sure what in the heck this guy might be expecting from people who asked him questions like that – especially when they looked like they might have come from the moon.

The priest nodded slowly, his beard rustling in the breeze.  "We are withdrawn; the remnant of God's people can have no lasting connection with the world of sin.  But there is one among us who knows the ways from here, across the mountains to the sea.  He will tell you – but first, we must welcome you properly.  The hour is late; you shall break bread with us in peace and friendship."  He straightened a little, the discussion over, and made a motion to the villagers, a few words in some impossibly ancient and unintelligible dialect.

Alain and Amina were at Janusz's sides by now, questioning, and he translated to fill them in.  "As unlikely as it sounds, they have someone here who knows the way to the coast – but the old man's insisting on feeding us first.  Hicks, you know?  I figure we don't mind the hospitality, even if it's going to be all turnips and radishes."  He stuck his thumbs through his belt, looking over at where several villagers were going into one of the low, dark houses.

"Turnips, eh?" Alain said, looking after Janusz's gaze.  "Well, it could be worse; all we've got to do is be polite, let them host their guests, and copy out the map or the story when they've had their fun and let us go.  Smile and nod; if they're anything else like the other people of this country, drink and let them drink, but don't try to keep up."  Janusz cracked a smile, and Amina tapped him on the arm to pull his attention back.

"If they want us to come somewhere right now, stall them," she said. "I'm going to get a pair of long pants on – I don't feel right like this.  It's like in some Texas Chainsaw Massacre – we can't make any offense, break any kind of taboo these people might have.  I don't feel right about this, not a lot about anything – but we've got to try, to be on our best behavior, and that means I have to put some pants on."  Amina turned away before the others could reply, hurrying back towards the truck.

Nobody said anything about her absence, or her former costume, or gawked at her wearing snap-up synthetic trousers instead of a heavy woolen skirt like the other women around this place; the villagers seated round about the old wooden table inside this darkened house seemed only interested in each other, to the extent that they were interested in anything at all: downcast eyes, slow, limited movements, and the soft smooth words of Russians talking amongst themselves in their inside voices.  It was like they were being lulled to sleep – the darkness within the closed wooden shutters, the half-light of tallow candles, the fragrance of the strangely-spiced mead, from bees fed on flowers that no one outside these mountains had ever seen, the taste and feel of the thick Russian stew puddled out onto their plates, like liquid potatoes carrying the impression of some unknown landrace of boar or deer that had been boiled down for the broth.  Amina blinked, hard, barely keeping her eyes open, trying to keep herself on her best behavior, upright, polite, and awake, as Alain and Janusz tried to make conversation and glean more information from the priest.

"So, your people, when they came, they came from Irkutsk?" Janusz asked, sipping the last out of a horn-spoon-ful of stew.  "From Vladivostok?"

"The people of Christ were scattered when God was pleased to destroy His church upon the earth," the priest said; "it is those who were blessed to survive who have been driven into the east, to slumber here, waiting for the vindication of Christ's return."

"Excuse a traveler's mistake, father," Alain said, his rough pronunciation more jarring in the woolen-blanket air around the table, "but destroyed?  In the center of the village, a church? And a priest?"

"No!" the chief of the villages answered vehemently.  "No church – no priests!  No church since the faithful were made anathema – no priests since the corrupted rite of Nikon.  God's church is dead – there is only God, and the remnant of His people, who call to the light in the East, and wait for Him to relent – the miracle by which His face shall shine upon us once more."  There was nothing about the man that said anything other than 'Orthodox priest', but apparently it was vital not to refer to him by anything like that, and Janusz hastened to apologize, before he got really angry and decided they needed to be burned inside a wicker bear or something.

"Your pardon, father," he said, "for these two came from France, far to the west, and don't understand such things.  For," he went on, suddenly getting a brainwave, "how can we of the abandoned outer world understand the ways of God's folk?  As the world has fallen into error, so have we fallen; it will be best if we move on again, despite your gracious hospitality, and not trouble the faithful."

The elder nodded slowly.  "Yes – such are the ways of the world, not to understand.  But you shall come to understand.  After the meal, in the last hour, you shall hear our evening liturgy – and then, you shall have all that is needed to take you from this place." Janusz nodded placidly, accepting, and translated for his teammates in case they'd missed it; an Old Believer service would be something to see, and one night of incense and chanting wasn't too bad a trade for a hot home-cooked meal, and a shortcut to the coast.

With the meal finished, the rest of the village elder's household packing away the plates and cutlery, a sharp, high, hollow tone suddenly cut through the night from somewhere outside, and the villagers stopped in place, filing out the door.  Amina blinked, and looked around, eyes sluggish – Janusz and Alain were also rousing themselves, but the elder had gone.  With some difficulty they managed to pick themselves up and stagger out of the house to see the whole of the village, fifty people or a hundred, converging on the church by torchlight, the elder standing by an open door hammering at a hanging board to produce that strange and alien imitation of a tolling bell.  This was that service he'd mentioned – they had to come, had to attend.  It was like they were being drawn, being pulled in; Amina's legs felt strangely heavy, and her head was swimming, her vision loose and liquid.  She'd only taken what they'd poured for her, and drunk her mead slowly, just to be polite, put off by the sweetness, the strange and heady flavors.  Just how strong was it supposed to be?  How were Alain and Janusz taking it?  She tried to turn her head to check, but it was like her body was turning to lead, heavy and prone to break as it flexed – and even when she thought she saw them, they were covered up in shadow, the light of the torches by the church flaring and flickering, making nothing certain, nothing real.

Step by step they sleepwalked or stumbled into the church, and into a phantasmagoria that seemed to be even further out, further away from the reality of any sane modern world.  The elder, behind then, seemed to usher them on through the ranks of the villagers kneeling and droning on the floor, through the monstrous shadows they threw in the light of the torches, the tall, stinking tallow candles, towards the altar, a barely raised daïs where, instead of the cross or tabernacle that they might have expected in a western church – or any Orthodox church not given over to utter nightmare – there was only a dark and ragged hole in the wall, a hole whose edges seemed to twist and buckle in their drink-clouded, fire-twisted vision.  High above, and all around on the walls, skulls stared down: bears, branching-antlered deer, and cyclopean monstrosities that must have been mammoths, their dead and empty eyes staring down at the congregation.  This was less a Christian church than a shaman's hut – and less of either than something out of the gap between them, something out of the depths of an immense and lightless abyss.

The elder pushed down on each of their shoulders in turn, the lightest pressure, the smallest hand, and Amina found herself kneeling beside Alain beside Janusz, before some kind of trough at the foot of the altar.  "O Lord!" shouted the elder, somewhere behind them, and she did not turn or stir.   "Who called Your people into darkness, who delivered them into the wilderness of emptiness and terror!  Well have You succored them – well do You bless them who shall keep Your commandments!"  "Your blessings, Your blessings, O Lord!" the people answered, and it was like the baying of the hounds of the Pit.

"For God is in the east wall!"  "For God is in the east wall!" The chant became a call and response, repeating the mystical phrases back as the elder pronounced them.  Amina wanted to turn, to stand, to run desperately away into the forest, but her limbs wouldn't move – and now she found herself murmuring along, to the ancient rite in a Russian she could barely comprehend.

"For God is in the house of His people!" "For God is in the house of His people!"

"For God is in the rock, and below the rock!" "For God is in the rock, and below the rock!"

"For God is the rock, and below the rock!" "For God is the rock, and below the rock!"

"For God is below the space, and inside the skull!"  "For God is below the space, and inside the skull!"  The church was singing now, inside some awful melody, a moaning, keening thunder that seemed like it was rising out of the ground around them.

"For God is the knife, and God is the throat outstretched; God is the hand the swings, and God is the blood that spills; God is the heaven above the earth, and the door into the East; God is the haze over the edge of the earth, and God is the broken promise never claimed.  God is the thunder and God is the mountain and God is the abyss" and Amina was aware of Alain falling over next to her, something thick and black-red pouring out of a hole in his neck into the trough, and of seeing Janusz already collapsed, face down in it on the other side, and the she felt the blade into her own jugular, the searing hot screaming stabbing into the dull fog around her dying brain, and the elder, the celebrant, pushing down with his rough hands, chanting still his insane mystic chant, as he pulled the knife away.  The room spun, and her eyes fogged over, and there was nothing but the smell of blood and the murmur of that strange mad oikos chant, around and around and down to the very end.

The women were left to cut away the clothes of the strangers, to butcher them once they finished draining, as the holy Vladimir continued to offer the office.  The men were needed to remove their wagon.  With a practiced hand, one of them shifted the KAMAZ into neutral, then climbed back out to put his shoulder to the frame with the rest, and as they pushed, carefully, following the secret path from the village to the ravine, they sung their hymn.  "For God is the knife, and God is the throat outstretched; God is the hand the swings, and God is the blood that spills; God is the heaven above the earth, and the door into the East; God is the haze over the edge of the earth, and God is the broken promise never claimed.  God is the thunder and God is the mountain and God is the abyss, and God is the door that closes, God is the dawn that never comes." Coming to the lip, they moved cautiously, the only light for them the pale shadows from the high-hanging skull of the moon; they pushed, and the front wheels lost their grip, and over and over the truck went, down amid the bones of the others – a tangle of rusting steel and broken running boards collecting the bones of a hundred years of other explorers, who had also, in the end, received all they needed to leave the valley behind.