If you are quite convinced that Russia is a homogeneous, or even Slavic country, you'd better forget about it. In fact it is a patchwork of distinct federal republics and regions. Republic Kalmykia is not an exception.
As centuries passed, Russia was expanding its territory, including more and more and nations into its compilation. Three hours drive from Volgodonsk lies a republic, whose majority population is formed by Kalmyks - descendants of Mongols, which have settled by the Caspian Sea. During Stalin period they were suspected of collaboration with the Nazis and it took only a single day to banish the whole population in cattle cars to Siberia, where they spent 13 years in exile. After Stalin's death they were allowed to return, however, they found their home steppe already inhabited by Russians and Ukrainians. The villages and towns were given back their original names which had been taken away from them during the exodus, therefore "Stepnoy*" has become "Elista" again, and to this very town I intended to make a trip. (*Mother Russia will never stop to totally amaze me with its creativity in naming towns and villages. After banishing Kalmyks to Siberia they renamed their capital to Stepnoy (Steppe Town or Steppeville), as if there was nothing there but steppes. There are several municipalities around Volgodonsk called f.i. Uyutnyy (Comfortable), Obshchiy (Common), Snezhnoy (Snowy), not to mention the socialistic names such as Progres, Protelarsk, Gigant or Soviet. If this is not enough for you, go check out the map for the archipelago Severnaya Zemlya (Northern Land) with islands like Bolshevik, Komsomolets (member of the Soviet youth organisation) or October Revolution Island (the communistic coup).
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| Business class marshrutka. |
I booked the ticket to Elista on a reliable-looking website. Day after reservation they contacted by the phone to double-check if all the details were correct. Day before departure the driver itself called me to warn me, that according to the fact that the bus leaves from Moscow, it may arrive one hour prior or after the estimated time; he said he would call me when they'd get to the neighbouring town. I am supposed to wait for them on a bus stop opposite to the bus station. I arrive at the destination, but there is no bus stop directly on the other side of the road, there is a parking lot instead. I say to myself - the driver must have meant this spot, they are probably not going to wait at the bus stop and block the city transport. 'What parking lot? I did say exactly - bus stop!' frowned the driver into the phone. I cross the crossroads and soon I get on the marshrutka. I look around at the co-travellers - Asian people create an impression that our trip ends in Uzbekistan rather than Russian Federation. I stuff myself on the only free seat - between two full-bodied Kalmyk women in the back row. The 'bus' is a luxurious model - there is a LCD screen hanging in the front, they are showing an ordinary Russian romantic comedy starring Dmitri Nagiev (Russian version of, let's say, Vin Diesel). I feel like dozing off, but the quality of the road keeps me awake, the whole crew is swinging in all directions.
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| A view from the front of the hotel. A dragon, marshrutkas and Kalmyks crossing the street. |
In a while I find myself standing at the reception of hotel Elista. I hand my passport to the receptionist, in addition she asks me about my immigration card. This I have, of course, left at home - it is an A6 sized paper, which is ripped out, filled and put into your passport upon arrival to the country. In other words - an item incredibly easy to lose. They say I can't be accommodated without the card; the security guard explains where I can find the police station, where I should be able to get a copy. I go straight twice, twice to the left and in no time I say hello to a member of the police with a submachine gun in his hands. His older colleague appears in the window: who told you that we provided copies? Why don't you call your roommate to send you a picture of it on WhatsApp? He is browsing through my passport. When did you enter Russia? In January. There is a stamp missing! I didn't notice. You have neither the immigration card, nor the stamp - which means that you entered Russia illegally! I didn't anticipate that he would take this assumption seriously and I was right: he hands me the passport and wishes me all the best for the Day of Defender*. On my way back I get in touch with my Chinese roommate and soon the photo of my immigration card lands in my downloads folder. Even though I'm only a few hours drive from Volgodonsk, my network is gone and our communication is sponsored by roaming. (*23rd February is a national holiday - Day of Defender of the Homeland, the former Day of Soviet Soldier. It is considered a man counterpart to the Women's day (8th March). People congratulate not only soldiers, but basically any man, presents may also be given and theme parties can be held as well).
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| Pagoda of Seven Days. I could only choose Friday and Saturday. |
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Lenin standing just next to the pagoda. Because of the snow he is wearing not just a black tie, but also a white shirt. The taxi driver said it is probably for the occasion of that year's 100th Red Army foundation anniversary.
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Lady Lyudmila works in a souvenir shop on the ground floor of the hotel. She tells me that every day before going home she takes a 90-minute walk, so she can serve as a guide. The security guy would also like to join us, but implies that he will probably have a day off no sooner than in the future life - Kalmyks are the only Buddhist population in Europe. The main square is dominated by a pagoda, with Lyudmila's help I rotate the buddhist prayer wheels placed on the pagoda's foundation and I silently wish something for myself. The excursion continues, soon a buddhist temple emerges in front of us - of course, the largest in Europe. Lyudmila takes her time to tell me thoroughly about the history of Kalmyks: they have 'only' formed a part of Russia over the last 400 years, which is a negligible time compared to the great history of khanates of their Mongol and Buryat cousins, from which they have separated (the word Kalmyk itself means 'separated'). During the walk we are slowly being defeated by hunger and so we stop by a fancy restaurant. The waitresses are wearing military hats with red stars in the honour of the Day of Defender. They recommend me to try a steak - they say that the local meat is tasty as the cattle has plenty of space on the sorrounding steppes to run around. I pay for Lyudmila's tea and cake and before saying goodbye she advises me that I for sure need to attend the morning prayer in the temple.
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| Buddhism and socialism create a unique mix. |
The next morning I get up a bit sooner, I toss a few coins to the one-eyed accordionist and I stroll along the main road. At five to nine I get to the temple, before entering I walk around it, spin the prayer wheels, I complete the full circle and go inside through the main entrance. In the middle of the temple are sitting monks - lamas, which employ throat singing to chant prayers. Sitting barefoot on the bench I feel so relaxed that I have a hard time not to fall asleep. The monks' singing goes on, every now and then interrupted with some sort of percussion, besides that nothing is really happening. During the prayer I can sense some graduation of the changing from the lamas' side, sometimes they hush on cue with a subtle 'landing roll' which sounds as when you turn off a vacuum cleaner. One hour and half passes in total calm, suddenly everybody gets up and comes closer to the monks for some kind of communion. I glance at the enormous statue of Buddah in the centre of the temple (guess what - biggest in Europe), which was by a chance made in Volgodonsk. In the second half of the day I intend to to visit a concert of local folk music and dance. According to Lyudmila's instructions I make it to the theatre and to its auditorium. I find a place next to a girl with dreadlocks on her head, which I saw entering the hotel the day before. Suddenly I hear her speaking on the phone in perfect German. Where are you from? - I ask in Russian. East Germany, she answers in Russian with almost no accent. We switch to English and agree on a coffee after the show. In the meantime the dancers in military uniforms have already taken their places on the stage, the first round will obviously be dedicated to the just passed national holiday.
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| A temple on white canvas. You would expect anything but this. |
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| Buddah. Made in Volgodonsk in separate parts, put together in Elista. |
In the café I find out, that the girl studies in Vladivostok and came to Elista for a short trip. I ask whether she had already paid a visit to the famous Chess City - a town district, which was built during the reign of the former Kalmyk president and also chess fanatic. It's a complex of buildings designed for organising chess championships including hotels and museum of chess. In a while we drive through the gates of the place devoted to this noble game, however, it looks nothing like it - we can see some sort of houses, but nothing that would really bear any sign of chess. The taxi driver drops us in front of the central building - City Hall, there is supposed to be a museum on the second floor. We enter the multistorey building, but the lights are on only on the mentioned second floor, we can almost hear our footsteps echoing in the foyer. In the museum we get a decent load of information about chess for just 50 roubles, although in half an hour we were already on the way back - besides apartments there was nothing more to glare at in the Chess City. I gave one more task to the summoned taxi driver - stop by the statue of Ostap Bender. The cult hustler from the novel '12 Chairs' organised a chess championship in a town called Vasyuki (pretending to be a chess grandmaster), during which he lost 30 simultaneously played games and ran away with the entry fee money in his pocket. The driver is enjoying his role as a photographer and he stylises me into various positions. There are 12 chairs sorrounding Ostap - sit down on one of them, he says. I wipe off the snow, but I'm freezing my ass anyway. Driving us back he tells me a story about how he served as a soldier in the town of Sumperk in Czechoslovakia - they called it a country of "rains, bicycles and whores".
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Kalmyk chess. The king has two additional guardians, which move the same way as queen. This makes the total number of queens during one game six.
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| Great and little combinator. |
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| Spoiler alert: as in the novel, there were no gems hidden in any of the 12 chairs. |
My trip was even a few days before setting off mildly threatened by the fact, that there were no buses coming back to Volgodonsk on Saturday. I found salvation in BlaBlaCar - service offering a shared car ride. There is an offer hanging on the website: a driver named Maksim leaves Elista at 7PM Saturday night, travelling to Moscow via Volgodonsk. I reserve a place without hesitation, the day before I confirm the agreed upon details on the phone. I arrive at the station at 7, and here Maksim becomes - the same marshrutka I travelled with to Elista. They probably hadn't filled all the seats and so they posted their offer on BlaBlaCar - but of course for lesser price, I save 100 roubles which I soon exchange for non-alcoholic beer. The driver of the 'bus' recognizes me - Tomas, you're already going back? What can I do, we have working Sundays...
PS: Due to my tight schedule I had my meals quite inadequately. During the day my first dish was 'lapsha' - chicken soup with noodles, and for the second course 'plov' - risotto with vegetables and beef. Somehow, probably during to my irregular nutrient input, I started to feel sick. I quickly did the figures in my head, the result was that I won't make it to the toilet in my room. I ask for the key to the WC at the bar, I dash inside, lock the door and here I stand facing a checkmate which even the whole Chess City couldn't come up with - there is no toilet paper. The bridge over Rubicon has been burned down though and I took only single pants with me. Perhaps since the introduction of socialism there has been a working system of litter bins meant for the already used paper products, as they effectively used to clog toilets. Once when you will find yourself applying an already utilized toilet paper, your only option left will be to bow down humbly before the life itself and accept the offered draw.
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