(continued)...

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So, as we pondered the connection between our two new 'cabin buddies', the train sped on through Siberia. By this time we had reached Lake Baikal, a huge body of water in the region of Irkutsk. We spent most of the second day passing the expanse of frozen, snow-covered water to the north, projecting far beyond the white horizon. On the other side- in the the direction of the Northern borders of Mongolia, North West China and Kazakstan- a long range of snowy mountains, met the sky. It was an impressive sight.

We passed the day then by playing cards, taking naps, reading and writing. Together with our Canadian friend Steve, we sat for a few hours playing cards in the empty, smoke-soaked restaurant carriage, which was patrolled by a surly, lethargic waiter, whose right hand bore a tatoo that Steve associated with prison. (Judging by the surly and abrupt manner of the guy, he may have been right.) Steve proved to be an acceptable companion in as much as he hadn't made too many incursions on our personal space, and was of a humorous and sociable disposition. He didn't play 'donkey'- a Mongolian game that we had learnt whilst there- for as long as I wanted- but few people share my insatiable appetite for card games!

Later- all carded-out and ready for bed- Laura and I settled down to read for a little while. It transpired that the meal allocation for ticket holders like us was just two. (Quite why we had been given both before half past ten in the morning, remains a mystery- it completely threw me!). So we settled in for a delicious pot noodle supper. The blonde lady had by this time vacated our cabin, leaving the small, mole like man behind. (So it was still a distinct possibility that he could be on his way to commit a murder!) He scurried around on the lower bunk opposite that which Laura and I sat on, and soon enough produced a laptop. (This seriously threw my theory, because an old predjudice of mine precluded most army personnel from possessing 'advanced' technology like laptops. Snobbery really.) I watched him for a little while as he scribbled a few notes into a notebook as he clicked and tapped. Eventually he held out the notebook to me and in it he had written in latin-script resembling a child's:

Hello. I sorry for my English. My name is Viktor. What is your name?

I instantly politely refused his apology, and told him our names. Drawing our attention to a dictionary on his computer, he proceeded to inquire as to our nationalities and what we did. With almost complete recourse to this useful device, we discussed our occupations, the whereabouts of our home towns, and other general things. He was a really charming guy, who beavered conscientiously to understand who we were and to tell us about himself. Fortunately, his laptop contained a folder full of photos from his work: he was a well-servicer who worked for an oil drilling company. On this occasion he was travelling between two of three wells in Russia, which he did, as a matter of course, monthly. The site that he showed us in the photos, was in an area of pine forest: snow covered the floor and the large industrial machinery (including a helicopter almost as big as two double decker busses!) contrasted sharply against the pristine natural environment. In the foreground, Viktor and his colleagues (all men) frolicked jovially. They played cards, drank tea, sat at their lap tops and stood beside big drills and things like that. Most of the frolicking though was done by the others- Viktor himself just quietly smiled.

It was really nice getting to know Viktor. He was unassuming, humble and unobtrusive. What endeared me the most was his determination to communicate with us. It cannot never be discounted that anyone is not a murderer (I'm still reading Crime and Punishment, so I should know!)- but I admit to feeling a little bit guilty about my instincts!)

Much to my dismay, Viktor left early next morning. I had been sleeping awkwardly all night, and was not really able to rouse myself to bid him goodbye and good luck. I was however a little later, when a very tall and broad man entered the cabin. Trying my hardest to prolong my rest, it became even more difficult when another, much louder man entered and shortly he was offering vodka around to all and sundry, with much gay abandon! His name was Alex.

To be continued...!

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