Wednesday, 26 August 2026

 

Start: Kazan (RU) 8:00

Arrival: Izhevsk (RU) 16:45

 

Total: 388 km

 

 

Our last day in Tatarstan. We visited the small town of Yelabuga. Not because I had ever heard of it (I had not) but because one of our favourite painters spent his childhood here: Ivan Shishkin. I had been lookkng forward to seeing his famous Morning in a Pine Forest painting in the Tretyakovskaya, but that had been the only room closed for maintenance! But no matter. Visiting the place where he grew up was even better.

 

 

The dual carriageway from Kazan to Yelabuga is in excellent condition and we arrived at the museum around 11 am. The lady at the reception asked us what city we were from, for their statistics. "Lyuksemburg" I answered, and her eyes lit up. She explained everything to us in really slow and clear Russian, I'm happy to say that I understood just about everything she said. The visit was off to a good start.

 

The house where young Ivan Shishkin lived with his parents and five siblings had about 14 rooms. They were lovingly decorated with family heirlooms like a piano that had belonged to his brother, his father's writing desk and his sister's sewing machine. All explanations were in both Russian and English.

 

 

On the second floor, the family's bedrooms and the young painter's study contained many original works by both Shishkin himself and his wife. I especially loved his etchings, the way he conveyed such realistic depth with nothing more than many darker or lighter lines. I wish I could draw like that! Not the first tine I'm thinking about taking up that hobby, but I fear I lack the patience to master it. Unfortunately, visitors were not permitted to take pictures in the upstairs rooms, but this was just as well. It forced us to see the artworks through our eyes only, and not through the lens of a camera.

 

 

Although Yelabuga has only 70,000 inhabitants, there is yet another famous name connected to it: Bekhterev. I must admit, the only thing I knew about the good doctor was the spinal arthritis named after him: Morbus Bekhterev. Admittedly, I never wasted a moment's thought on the person that lent its name to it. But now was the chance to make good on it: As a young doctor, Bekhterev, having grown up in the area, had successfully lobbied for the first county hospital to be installed in the building that now houses an exhibition on his life and works. He had gone on to become a famous psychologist and rival of Ivan Pavlov, him of salivating dog fame.

 

 

Unfortunately, this exhibition was not as interesting for us as the Shishkin home. It merely showed four rooms: herbal medicine/doctor's study, a psychic ward, a replica of Bekhterev's own rather luxurious office, and an operating theatre. There were scant explanations, all in Russian. I had hoped for more insights into his life and works. Had I been the curator, I would have set this up very differently. But I also know from experience that this is much easier said than done.

 

The last "hands on"-room where visitors could concoct their own medicines, take their blood pressure etc, was sadly closed. So that was it then. If I wanted to find out more about the father of behaviourism (I like him already!), I'd have to read up on it. At least now I know what his home town looks like.

 

 

 

Sonia and I had debated for some time what way to take from Kazan to Yekaterinburg.

 

 

The long way through Udmurtia and Perm, or the new Avtodor tollway cutting straight through the Ural Mountains. The fact that there are no Avtodor offices in Yekaterinburg was one reason why we decided against the tollway. The republic of Udmurtia (yay, yet another republic of the Russian Federation under my belt!) was another. So after leaving Yelabuga, we turned north.

 

Every state or province has its motto. I don't know, what Udmurtia's motto is, but I would suggest: "Work in progress". At least for their main highway, it would be a fitting and inspirational adage. Half the time, we were driving on semi-asphalted unmarked lanes with workers busy repairing or newly building a larger road. In five years, this will be a great highway. It's a testament to the intrepidity of Russian motorists that we nevertheless made very good speed. In fact, I was often the slowest car around, cruising happily just above the speed limit behind a large truck, being overtaken by vans, buses, tractors (well, the latter not really, but you get the picture). It was relaxed driving. Mostly.

 

 

The Udmurts are a Finnic people, related to the Mari of Yoshkar Ola. The landscape once again became very Southern Scandinavian with expansive yellow wheat fields filled with neat hay bales. They looked like a Shishkin painting! In fact the view from our window looked MORE like a painting than Shishkin's very life-like work ever did, if that makes any sense. Eerie.

 

Some forty kilometres outside the capital of Udmurtia, Izhevsk, we spotted an elk. Sonia even managed to snap a picture of it. The symbol of the north. I've always felt much more at ease in colder climes (yes, it started raining when we left Tatarstan behind) than under sun-drenched skies.

 

At half past 3, we drove into the rush hour chaos of Izhevsk. Because, actually, it was already half past 4 up here, and Udmurts seem to leave work early. Or maybe their streets are simply gridlocked around the clock. We found our hotel (yep, the satellite navigation system had worked flawlessly all day) and decided that we'd seen enough for one day. Food, let your hair down, put your feet up, have a coffee, write a blog. Sounds like a plan.