Those dogs on the plane were like the great Russian people I was to meet. Hard and tough - and put them in any difficult situation and they can survive. Only the bloodhound needed to release his bowels, once, by my feet, seven hours after we'd taken off from St Petersburg. I was quite impressed with the stamina of all those dogs, yet I was confused at what they were doing on a plane amongst the passengers. But, it was Aeroflot after all. 

Whilst people around me reunited with hugs and kisses at Irkutsk airport, I stood there alone, wondering if I'd come all the way to Siberia because of some evil Internet prank. But out of the crowd some five minutes later, a lovely looking Asian girl appeared and in shy English asked if I was Rowena. She was Gulya, a young assistant English professor, who out of the goodness of her heart, had volunteered to accompany me to Baikal as a translator. 

There is a line in 'A Streetcar Named Desire' that says something like "I put my faith in the kindness of strangers". How true when you are travelling. Whenever I have been stuck somewhere, or in a difficult situation, there's always been a kind stranger who has helped me. I've begun to call them "travel angels". People, just like guardian angels, but they don't have wings. They walk the earth and are very, very real. Gulya was my Siberian travel angel.

Although I'd had little sleep on the plane, mostly due to fear and excitement (and the dogs), I was keen to accept Gulya's offer of a tour around Irkutsk. Irkutsk has about a million people, being one of the larger Siberian cities. It is very civilised and on that first day I was almost disappointed at the lack of tigers and bears strolling around the streets. Irkutsk is especially well known for their centuries old wooden houses, although I was told they are earthquake proof and even, allegedly, out-stood 6 points on the Richter scale last year. The next day, we left for Lake Baikal. At 8am in the morning at the bus pick-up point, it became clear to me that I was to be a summer camp councillor for 60 children aged between 8 and 17. 

The children quickly wanted to become my friend. Many of them were from small villages and would never have seen a foreigner before. For the first week I couldn't even go to the toilet by myself. I constantly had a little fan club following me everywhere and wanting to see what foreigners do. 

The daily routine included waking up around 8am, morning exercises, breakfast (porridge in all forms; from rice and milk to pasta and milk to mushy stuff and milk), I would then hold a short English lesson - or play a game in English; 'Celebrity Head' became their favourite. Then, we'd have lunch, which was usually soup, followed by activities like hiking, swimming or a ball game. 

There were no showers, so I went swimming in Baikal almost everyday. Once a week we would have a Bunya, which is like a Russian sauna. They would heat up a wooden hut by the lake and we would go in in groups of four. The idea is to get really hot and sweaty and then hit each other all over with birch leaves. When it got so hot we couldn't stand it any longer the tradition is to run out of the Bunya and jump in the lake. Hitting the cold water brings an instant and pleasant rush to the head. 

I was invited to have lunch with a Russian family one day. They filled me full of food and vodka and all of a sudden I could have a basic conversation in Russian. One of the ladies was the last in a long line of Russian gypsies and she looked into my destiny via my birthdate. Her reading was something like Chinese numerology - but far more convincing and more insightful than I would like to admit.