exotic, or stimulating to the senses. But there is no question that the
boreal jungle is an acquired taste, and it defeated people regularly. Many
early settlers found life there so strange and difficult that they simply
turned around and went back, a retreat, it must be remembered, that could
take years. The leopard specialist Vasily Solkin, who was taught to hunt
in western Russia, could appreciate the newcomers’ disorientation: “I had
the feeling I’d walked into a botanical garden,” he said. “The forest did
not look natural or normal to me; it was too exotic, there were all these
different species. I felt like a child in kindergarten: the hunting skills I
had were of no use to me here.”
However, more often than not, once a Russian had made it to the coast
—often as an exile—this was where he would remain; everything he had
previously known would exist in memory only. In 1870, Vladivostok had
a population of about seven thousand from all over Russia and the
Pacific. In those days, the future capital resembled a smaller, more
primitive San Francisco: not only was it beautifully situated, but natural
resources were abundant, the Pacific offered access to the world, and
grandiose dreams were encouraged. A number of those dreamers came
from overseas. In addition to China, Russia had managed to beat out
England, France, and the United States in its race to lay claim to this
strategically situated and physically perfect port where, it was said, all
the navies of Europe could be safely hidden. It was a harsh but hopeful
time. It was also an inebrious time. In 1878, tax revenue from alcohol
sales in the Maritime Territory exceeded all other sources combined by a
factor of twenty.
As in all frontier towns, the gender ratio in Vladivostok was hopelessly
skewed, so surplus bachelors were forced to find alternative amusements
for themselves. One of these resembled a cross between Duck, Duck,
Goose and Russian Roulette. Around 1895, an elderly survivor of this
game was interviewed by a Russian researcher and travel writer named
Dmitri Shreider whose book, an early profile of the region entitled Our
Ussuri, was “approved by the Czar’s censors” in 1897. The following
excerpt makes Gogol look like a documentarist.
ron
(Ron)
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