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Published: September 17th 2006
Daren, Trans Mong.
Panting like a dog with his head out of the window of the car...Train Number 6 - the trader train - Moscow to Irkutsk
We left the safe haven of Logan's apartment full of nervous excitement, with bags full of provisions, a big bottle of vodka, and not too much idea what we'd let ourselves in for. For the statto's, what we did know was this:
We would be covering 5185 kms on the train from Moscow to Irkutsk (capital of Siberia).
The entire journey would take 75 hours.
We would pass through five time zones ending up at GMT+7.
We had Don Quixote, Birdsong and One Flew Over the Cuckoo Nest to read, and getting diaries up to date to occupy us during quiet times.
And what great fun we had. Neither of us managed to finish our books, nor get our diaries up to date. It was a truly great experience, and nothing like either of us have ever done before. It's hard to know where to start trying to explain the trip, but we'll give it a go.
The Trader Train We booked our train tickets in Germany at our favorite train operator, Deutsche Bahn, about three weeks beforehand. We loved DB even more when we
All packed for the Trans-Mongolian Express, Moscow
One of many Mongolian traders about to board our train. discovered after a thorough exploration of the train that we were in the nicest carriage and had the nicest
Providnitza (carriage attendant). Although she didn't speak any English, she did smile alot and keep the toilets in a reasonable state. And there was always hot water in the samovar at the end of the carriage. Apparently this level of service is pretty unusual, so she was quickly nicknamed the
Super Providnitza.
What made our journey especially interesting was the presence of numerous Mongolian traders. Being in a Russian carriage we missed the worst of it, but any walk down the length of the train was something like walking through a warehouse. People sitting in vestibules putting together boxes to hold cheap trainers, maniquins with jeans for sale decorating hallways, and hundreds of people wandering up and down the hallways at all times of the day and night carrying their wares. We couldn't figure out the purpose of all this activity until we pulled into the first station. Suddenly our train turned into a mobile market. The area around the steps down to the platform had suddenly sprouted a display of handbags and tops. Women and men were leaning out
the windows all along the length of the train dangling trainers, jeans, handbags, tops and fake leather jackets to the hordes of shoppers on the platform. Loud shouts from the windows of 'Carsholky, Carsholky, Carsholky'. We never found out what it meant (possibly jeans) but we heard it a lot on this trip. Although we were a bit bemused by the whole palaver, it was rather entertaining, and we'd got used to it by the end of the trip. An increase in the number of people running up and down our corridor became a useful indicator that a station stop was coming up.
For context, it's also worth mentioning the buffet car. A mythically non-smoking place, where we could get all manner of Russian food (usually whatever the chef chose to cook for us), beer and vodka amongst other things. Decorated in the unique style of an elderly aunt who considers the 60's the only fashionable point in history and hasn't bothered to redecorate since. I think it was the fake plastic ivy, fake wood panelling and the constant clouds of cigarette smoke that made this an especially desireable place to hang out.
How we spent our time, Our Samova, Trans-Mong.
Just like the drinks machine at work, but coal powered instead... and with who
The whole train journey turned out to be an extremely social affair. Which sort of explains why we never got our books finished.
We hadn't been on the train long before we met Tarald and Peter, cousins from Norway. Both super laid back guys, we ended up spending a lot of time with these two, and are now fully conversant with why Norway is the best country in the world (it wasn't worth trying to argue).
About midday on our first day on the train we were invited for the second time (they'd first suggested in about 10am) to join the Russian lads three cabins down, for vodka and
zakuska which is the secret Russian defence against vodka hangovers - sort of tapas style food immediately after each shot of vodka. It seemed churlish to say anything other than yes, so we joined them in their kupe (which can hold about eight at a squash sitting on the two bottom bunks). Tarald soon joined us. From there proceeded one of the best days we've had since leaving the UK. Sergey, Edward, Max and Jakob all spoke English (though we were the first foreigners they'd
met) and were generous beyond belief. They fed us vodka, beer and zakuska all day and entertained us on the train and on the platforms when we stopped at stations through the day. Sergey and Edward (last name Kalashnikov!!) had to get off in Perm about 6pm, but Max and Jakob were staying on, so we continued the drinking with them. Needless to say, the details towards the end of the day are a bit sketchy, though we do know they involved Daren racing through the train waving around dried fish. More details may be forthcoming on payment of beers once we arrive in NZ.
We also met various other travellers in the 'English carriage' and Benny and Geradline, an Irish couple, who'd gone for luxury in a two person kupe. We made the mistake of introducing them to Max and Jakob, and poor Geraldine was feeling the effects the next day.
We also spent a lot of time staring out of the window. Siberia is a lot prettier and tree covered than we expected it to be.
Irkutsk - known at one time as the Paris of Siberia - a serious misnomer
We arrived in
Irkutsk at some ungodly hour in the morning. Benny had kindly spent the night up drinking so that could say goodbye to us on the platform. As it was pitch black when we got off, we were grateful that Peter and Tarald were also getting off at the same time (they are both tall guys). We wandered across the assault course of a bridge from the station to the town (luckily we did this in the dark because having looked at the superstructure of the bridge in daylight we both firmly resolved not to cross it any more than necessary - it looked like it was a on the verge of collapse at any second).
We didn't do too much in Irkutsk. We'd really come here to see Lake Baikal (deepest and largest lake in the world) but we also needed to get registered (Russian visa and registration requirements really are a pain in the proverbial), get a Mongolian visa and get train tickets to Ulaanbaatar. In the end this admin took us three days. The rest of the time we spent watching bad Russian television, trying to decipher Russian menus, eating and shopping. One afternoon was spent with
Our Russian Friends, Trans-Mong.
Abbie, Sergey, Jacob, Daren, Max a map in hand exploring the 'sights'. To be honest, Irkutsk hasn't got much to offer. This really is Siberia, although what this place is like in the bleak mid-winter god only knows. One frustrating hour was spent looking for an obelisk comemorating the efforts of the builders of the trans-siberian railway line. We quickly found a statue to the man who suggested it, Alexander III. It was only some shrewd observation on Abbies part that she noticed the Alex III statue was in fact on the base of the aforementioned obelisk. It had clearly been changed (in 2003), but our guidebook still showed a picture of the obelisk - Bryn Thomas, it's time for an update!
We ended up having to buy hats and scarves because it was so cold while we were there. In the end our trip to Lake Baikal ended up being a flying visit on a freezing cold, rainy stormy day. And because we'd missed the early buses, and had to be back to catch trains, we ended up taking a mini taxi there - which meant we only had an hour to explore. Enough time to dip our hands in the lake, buy
Sergey and Jacob, Trans-Mong.
Doing what Russians do best... dried fish, and bump into Peter and Tarald again. We'd been told that the lake is beautiful, but on our visit, it was more like Alaska in January. Luckily the Norski's were kind enought to show us (gloat more like) their shots of the lake from the night before. We were dead jealous, especially as Tarald had taken them on his mobile phone, however he was gracious enough to let us 'borrow' a few of them, just for contrast to our freezing experience.
Irkutsk to Ulaanbaatar
More statistics;
Irkutsk to UlaanBaatar - 1,120 km
Length of Journey - 30 hours
It was with a sense of relief that we boarded our train to Mongolia. Irkutsk, and Russia generally had been hard work. The Russians appear to be, on the whole, outwardly cold, and the language can be hard to impossible at times.
A new train, and unfortunately a new Providnitza; a blimp of a woman who enjoyed nothing more than playing musical bunks with her inmates, and barking gutteral Russian at any slight by her captives. Her efficiency was demonstrated further on the second day, when, having sat at the Russian border for
Max and his friends, Trans-Mong.
Bought from the platform - very good Zakuska four hours, then the Mongolian border for a further three (all this time with the toilets locked), five minutes before we needed them, she magiced up three forms each that we were required, not only to translate, but to complete for the customs officials about to board.
We were accompanied on this train by the No.1 Norwegians, Peter and Tarald, and also met Dermot from Ireland, Luzia and Bernadette from neutral Switzerland, and Sam, Chris, JP and Rob - one Brit and 3 Auzzies who were keen to learn the subtleties of Vodka and Zakuska, our new party trick!
Other than this, not much happened. The lack of a buffet car didn't help, and there were no Mongolian traders to break up the monotony of station stops. We were arriving in Ulaan Baator at 7.30 am, so our ever efficient Providnitza saw fit to wake us up at 6am, then 6.10am, just to make sure. Our approach to the Mongolian Capital was dark and cold, not the best way to view a new country and a new city. And SNOW! Ohmigod! We were not prepared and had not expected snow in September...
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Pat and Ian
non-member comment
Good to hear from you
Good to hear from you. Go well. Love Pat and Ian