more great people...

More great people…

On Wednesday 2nd July we cruised into Omsk, soon found the central road leading into the city which took us over a huge bridge spanning a big brown river called the Irtish, which a few hundred km further north ran into the Obb, (one of the great Rivers of the World) that even further north billowed out into the Arctic Ocean…These waterways have been the lifesource of all the small villages and communities along its banks whom without its coursing meandering path would remain innaccessable and lost in the remote Siberian wilderness that consumes them.Here a way down stream where the elements give a more generous leeway and the routes of tarmac roads and even airstrips are common place, the Siberian Plateau we are on is provided with enough material wealth to facilitate a city or two…
We turn off the main drag into a smaller side street and immediately four voices exclaim in unison the sight of a café called, and even spelt in fashionable phonetic alphabet “Capacino’s”…We park up and head straight for the caffeine and tea which awaits us in small steamy pots and cups.They have an internet connection in the café and while the others get out their laptops to steal the opportunity and get some work done, I go on a cruise to find a laundrette…Its been three weeks and not one square cm of cloth in the truck has seen water or washing powder since our Amsterdam departure 5000km ago.I decided to jump in a taxi with the 30 kilo’s of dirty clothes and sheets and armed with my English Russian dictionary I tried to pronounce the Russian word for Laundrette. Another impossible sequence of mouth and teeth movements and I got the message over to Dzeem, or rather Jim, my taxi driver and new best friend.We drove around for 20 minutes and visited a couple of quite posh looking buildings that looked more like up market dry cleaning shops,,, eventually we got sent to the right location…It was already late in the day and the girls in the laundrette said that our washing would not be ready until late the following evening.In my previous discussion with the rest of the group before departing we all agreed on leaving as early as possible the next day,,,this new revelation would change this plan and I did’nt want to make a decision regarding everyone without their consent.Jim and I drove back to Cappucinos with the 30 kilos of washing and presented our dilemma.Everyone sided more towards leaving later with a better smell in the truck and so myself and Jim set off once more to the Laundrette.We waltzed in with our piles of humming socks pants and other road stained clothes, dumped them in a huge mountain infront of the cashiers counter and I waited as Jim proudly presented the girls there with his mamouth delivery.The girls face was nothing but a fright, I did’nt need any Russian language skills to understand what was going through her mind, and after a few moments of quick dissaprooving glances towards the slightly vibrating hill infront of her we were shoed out of the laundrette, bags under arms, and a very neat and shining cleaning trolley was wheeled to the place where our cloth mountain had momentarily loomed, mops and hot water busily eradicating any trace of our impromptu visit…How terribly embarrassing, being turned away from a laundrette because our clothes were too dirty to be washed…
Jim took an immediate defense on my side and waved the girls reaction off with a strong “waaaghhh” said “nyet problyem” and then drove me and the washing out of town and to his tiny apartment in one of the massive grey residential building blocks that we had seen on the way in.His proud and neat home compromised of a joint front room come bedroom with a fold out couch bed, television, one wardrobe and a cabinet with a photo of his wife smiling and clutching a teddybear, and one shelf lined with an assortment of other colourfull teddys and dolls.There was a small bathroom and a kitchen which all put together just about sported a size slightly bigger than our truck…In the heat of the afternoon and the stickyness of being inside, Jim stripped to his underpants and started to sort out all the washing into relevant piles. I follwed suit and for the next 5 hours myself and Jim got to work and slowly reduced the mountain of washing until at long last the final wash was done...There were socks and pants, trousers, t shirts, bed sheets and girly ‘g’ strings hung over every possible hangable item in Jims flat.Doors windows, cupboards, sideboards, and tied up bits of string,,, all the windows were open, a fan was blowing and all the gas rings in the kitchen were on full blast trying to dry the invasion of laundry that now swamped the humble 3 rooms of Jims home.We were moving around swapping turns at the ironing board and every now and again Jim would appear with a tray full of different goodies, chocolates, biscuits, soups and an endless supply of Russian shay (tea)…At about 21:30 the front door opened and in walked Jims wife to behold me, a long haired tattooed virtually naked stranger, iron in hand chomping away on a vanilla wafer, moist forehead and clad only in a pair of not very clean briefs underwear.The look on her face was priceless as she beheld the scene infront of her.She quickly assessed the scene and room as if to make sure she had’nt walked into the wrong apartment, then as she slowly started to recognize familiar items underneath all the drying clothes, Jim popped his head around the corner and said something in Russian with a big smile on his face.It took a while for his wife to find some kind of reconciliation with the scene in front of her,,, I quickly rummaged around for the driest pair of trousers I could find, squeezed into some moist jeans and offered my hand to say hello.A nervous half chuckle came out together with a stuttered Russian word that I did’nt recognize and then Jim and his wife broke into an exchange of explanations and to my happy relief a burst of smiles and laughter.
We managed to pack about half of the clothes into plastic bags and Jim then drove me back to the Truck promising to bring the rest of the laundry the next morning to us when it was properly dried.
I could’nt believe the generosity and full heartedness of this man, an ordinary taxi driver who upon picking up an out of the ordinary ride one day, gave up his whole working afternoon to spend his day washing the 3 week collection of road soiled clothes of 5 complete strangers, offer his whole home and everthing in it to make my 5 hour stay there as welcoming and pleasant as possible…Jim had told me during our conversations of the day that he used to do martial arts up until a few years ago and was proud to display some of his favourite kicks and punches to me as shadow fighting around his home.We presented Jim with a pair of my kick boxing gloves and some leg pads together with some Russian rubels,,, he seemed incredible happy with this gift even though he tried a few times to refuse us giving it…He never asked for anything in return for his bursting generosity…
This story is just one of many that I chose to relate,,,the true magic of this place, the Siberian platau with its seemingly uninhabitable terrains, is undoubtedly the depth and quality of Human Spirit that we find so often shining from behind the eyes of so many of the people we meet along our path…I’m humbled each time at the reception we get wherever we go and wonder how often this generosity and loving nature would be shown in return to fellow travelers on their paths in Europe.Surely we are all the same people at heart, under the texture of our skins the same blood circulates and the very same breath shared, albeit taken in turns before returning to fill the skies once more…
Friendliness and care are only ever an attitude away…