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Published: September 16th 2011
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Fresh and clean I jumped on the Bajkal train to Irkutsk, which is the only train departing from St. Petersburg beyond Moscow. In fact the rail arches around Moscow and Nischny Novgorod, going to towns called Vologda and Kirov, before joining the original transsiberian route in Jekaterinenburg. This meant I was the only foreigner on the train until Jekaterinenburg, so I felt it to be a bit more original than what other tourists might experience.
Getting my bike on the train was again no trouble. The conductor couple were two young 20-year-old kids from Irkutsk and one of them, calling himself Teddy, was a bike fan. So he carried in my bike and it was put in a perfect place in the smoking compartment at the end of the cabin. Teddy also gave me decines to get my most wanted train souvenir - a glass holder for warm beverages, as in all Russian trains very classy and rented out for a few roubles. I asked him where to get them. He replied that the most easy way to obtain one, would be to steal one. Okey, Teddy.
I had decided on the 2nd class coupe, because I just always
had dreamt of it this way, so it had to be like that. Next time going on Russian trains I will just suffice with the 3rd class platskarte as it is cheaper and it has more vivid atmosphere. The sleeping comfort are the same, except noone in 2nd is passing you pushing your feet while sleeping. And there are fewer smells in 2nd class. But I met enough irritating and crazy people in both classes to believe it to be completely random, what kind of fun to run into. Of course the poorer class, the poorer people and the more 'real Russia'. Ahem.
Not that I was sorry about my company in the coupe. I was bunking on top of a boring woman accompaigned by a sausage dog, but on the other side was Rada (means happy!), who was a woman in her late thirties with the looks of a school girl. She had much charisma and was the center of our conversation in the coupe as the dog lady had no intention of communicating with a non-Russian speaker while Rada had profound interest in everyone. In Kirov we were joined by an elderly man going to Kasakhstan. The team was now complete with lodgers in all four bunks.
Rada invited me to the restaurant, where we had a beer and she ordered the world's smallest salad. The restaurant cabin was not as romantic as I had hoped. It had a plastic glow and the music playing from the speakers was corny. I like corny Russian music, but not in this situation however. I had a good time with Rada though. She was an amazing acquaintance. Back in the coupe, we watched pictures from an expedition Rada had been on in Siberia and I showed pictures from my travel.
As my coupe crew split up, Rada and dog lady getting off, it was me and old man left. we did not speak much but looked out the window with similar curiosity. We were joined by a middle-aged woman with too tight clothes and a mouth full of golden teeth. She wanted to borrow my cell phone charger and waited in our coupe meanwhile. Not a problem except for the chattering, which for once went over the polite state that 90 percent of my conversations in Russian are doomed with.
After the initial politeness we talked about traveling in different countries. She said she could never afford to travel to St. Petersburg, but never thought of the hitchhiking possibility. I listed the comparatively immense list of countries I have been to and also mentioned Rome. She had not heard of Rome, so I thought my Russian pernounciation wa wrong and I asked her: "Well, which italian cities do you know?" She did not know any. Silence for a minute and I asked pushingly: "Maybe you know Paris or London?" The old man interupted and exlaimed that this was capitals that everyone knew. I exhausted a sigh of relief and the strange woman smiled a golden smile.
The train stopped and paused for 20 minutes. The old man got out and the woman followed me around as I went out. There was a freaky ambience about her following me, so I made a nonsense excuse and dispersed in confusing manner. She found me again, and I had to pull the same trick. Her presence sent a chill down my spine, but all in all she was very sweet and it was just my own shame and anguish, which disturbed me.
I met some Finnish people, who went on the train in Jekaterinenburg and I hoped to arrange that they could now stay in my coupe, as they had some trouble with a choleric infant in their own coupe. But as I came back to my coupe a young man was now occupying the bunk underneath me. And he was the dullest of all passengers possibly. Plugging in his earphones and turning his face away for his whole journey.
In Krasnoyarsk another man joined for a few stops and then came in Vaselina. She was a fit brunette and everything about her told me that she was a bold young woman seeking for interesting companionship. The boring man got out a few stops after Krasnoyarsk and rest of us gathered a small festive meal accompaigned by a bottle of chili vodka I had purchsed in St. Petersburg. Vaselina was not hesitating to shoot down the spirits as long as there would be a cucumber or such to relieve the vodka burn.
The feast was interupted by a date I had made with the Finnish to dine in the restaurant. I had promised myself a meal in the restaurant on the journey to complete the experience. This night provided the last chance of doing so, so I left Vaselina to the remaining soldier in the company, knowing that he had to get off soon to work and therefore would not interfere with my courting.
In the restaurant the Finnish and I were the only company. It was getting late in local time so the restaurant would soon close. The menu was impressive with a full vegetarian menu and also a dietary menu (impressive whistle sounding). I tried to order some food, but the waiter only wanted to serve me pork. So I had to settle for a beer and the Finns shared one. The manager of the restaurant came over immediately after the beer was served to tell us to hurry up finishing the beer we just purchased. We took our time and the managers movements became more and more nervous. He was tapping his watch harder and harder as we sat there. In the end it turned into a game between the managers and us Scandinavians. Finally he started yelling at us and waving us out of there and we giggled on our way out. The restaurant experience had been a success. Even though we left with empty stomachs, we had a good laugh.
Back in my coupe, the third wheel was soon to get off and I would be alone with Vaselina. So I thought. As soon as we were alone, a mother and her son arrived to occupy the two lower bunks. Way to destroy a potential romance. However, Vaselina did not seem like she was headed in the same direction as me.
She offered me to smoke with her and I jumped in there and had my first cigarette since I left Denmark. We played cards in my bunk. She tried to teach me a Russian game, but I never really got it. Our communication was at a low point. She had a way of speaking Russian in a fast complicated way that I did not understand and end each sentence with "Understood?" This was all very frustrating and we ended up just sleeping in our separate bunks, across from eachother with a meter of space. What to do? I fell asleep before I made a plan.
Next day she did not even give a hug or a handshake as she departed on the second last stop, but she did give me her phone number though. That means continuation, right?
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