The Spirit of Buryatia
“Is this your machine?” asks a young policeman, showing a picture of our ambulance on his phone. “Ours”, we answer completely stupefied, “What...
“Is this your machine?” asks a young policeman, showing a picture of our ambulance on his phone. “Ours”, we answer completely stupefied, “What...
On a hill covered by a green carpet of grassland, stand white walls of the Orthodox cathedral. Metallic sounds of a melody played by the bells escape from...
With new tyres and in the fixed homebulance we reach Irkutsk. In the capital of eastern Siberia, we spent only a short while, wandering around the city in...
A meeting with Nikolai, which after a bottle of moonshine, ended up at the border with Kazakhstan, cost us driving through the sideroads of nightmarish...
Metallic sounds of trombones and a rhythmic beat of drums. Loud cries in a foreign language. White and green wigs and jerseys in the same colours. The...