On a train, crossing over nations

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Ahh, so the beginning of the train journey. We'd all got to know each other over the past few (drunken) days, and so we lumbered into the train station in Moscow burdened with too many bags, not enough sleep and a few sore heads. We were the only westerners there, all the other pass angers comprising of Mongolian traders frantically running goods up and down the platform. Mountains of stuff, I honestly didn't think they'd manage to fit it all in the train, but they did, mainly by hiding it in our cabins too, whether we liked it or not. We developed a good drinking game with the AK47 Vodka bought from the Russian food carriage over the days. At every stop, the Mongolian Traders would jump off the train with their wares frantically trying to flog them to the hoards of waiting Russians, who were also trying to flog food to the Mongolians and us and who can not get enough metallic clothes it seems. There was such a random variety of goods that we all put suggestions in a hat and drew two each; should you or another person see that item you would have to drink. Leather waistcoats, fake Nike, un-pickled gherkins, boxes of walnuts, buckets of potatoes, tasselled shoes, metallic mini skirts, backpack umbrellas, tie dye socks, anything you can think of you can buy in these 20 minute windows when the train stops.

So anyway, I grabbed myself a top bunk and settled in, this is the best bunk as you can lie straight out of the window when it's open and watch the landscape go by. And the cabin is actually rather roomy for four people, better than I expected, although poor Luke had to share with the traders, who used all his space and he had to spend the nights wedged between boxes of hairy jumpers and huge jars of jam. But after four days without showers and with a constant film of dust and ash from the open window, it gets a bit close.

So I lie on my bunk and watch the country go past, glimpsed between endless oil tankers and cargo carriages. The towns we see few and far between the silver birch and the redwood conifers are wooden, rambling things with brightly painted shutters, ruinous stone structures crumbling on the outskirts. There are lots of factories too, empty and broken in the middle of nowhere. You could probably live out here and no one would ever know.

Our first night aboard resulted in many angry Mongolians and the TRAIN POLICE! RESPECT THEIR AUTHORITAR! The traders have no qualms about coming into your carriage when they want, hiding things in your access panels and even picking the lock in one instance late at night (only to say 'oh sorry, sorry, wrong cabin!' when we were all sat there glaring as he opened the door) , but try having a sing along and someone is getting their passport taken away. Hahah, he had to bribe the guard to get it back (eventually). I guess it is their train and they weren't to please with the beer bottles.

And then came the 12 hour border crossing into Mongolia, so very boring I'm going to leave it at that.

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Photos

view
View from the cabin window

view
View from my window at one of the Russian platforms

cabin
One night aboard the Vodka Train, view from my bunk.

Mmmm
Luke with the AK-47 Vodka purchased from the suitably smoky Russian resturant cart.

singing
James in High Spirits

Guards
Russian guards, busy as ever

hanging out
Some of the Guys shouting food and drink requiremebts to those who were on the platform. We had a system, as there was often only a short window of oppertunity and no warning bell before the train was due to leave. some of us would go onto the platform and frantically pass stuff up to those hanging out the window, before legging it it back to the train doors.

refuling
The System in action.

countryside
The Russian countryside from the train

countryside2
More countryside

Lake Baikal
The biggest freshwater lake in the world

Sardines
A good game to play on the train

Tone def
Although Guitars go down very well too

singsongs
As do dubious Irish Folk songs