The trans-siberian!!!

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The adventure is well under way: I have reached the famed Irkoutsk, the mystical town one always reads about in stories of goulags and exile, the heart of Siberia, the bear country, the harshest place one can think off, buried under meters of snow and thrown about by hurling winds, the place where only the fittest and strongest survive, most die of excess vodka.
Well it is isn't true, the people are pleasant, the girls slim and good looking, the sun is shining and life is enjoyable.

I recently got off the trans-Siberian and am enjoying the sun and easy going provincial atmosphere of the town. It is small but not without its charm, there are still a lot of old wooden houses build by the families of the Decembrists, when they were exiled here. Irkoutsk was once a rich and prosperous town, thanks to the gold found in the the river. The town is at the moment a bit dilapidated but retains some of its former glory. There are still grand old stone palaces and the train station is most impressive.

What a pleasure to be here; you feel like every one has his adventurous tale of how he got here, surmounting all sorts of obstacles to reach this far-eastern quiet little town. Well I have mine too:

I left Moscow 4 days ago, once again getting on the train with barely a few minutes to spare. I was kindly invited by the Belgian Ambassador in Moscow for dinner to bid farewell to the German Ambassador who was leaving Moscow for retirement. During dinner, I met a German TV presenter for ARD1 by the name of Mr Krause. He told me that an aquaintance of his (Benedict) will be on the same train as I. We made contact by phone and we agreed to meet later in the train. Andre, the embassy driver kindly agreed to pick me at 22:30 from the residence to take me to the train station. My train was leaving at 23:10. Dinner was delicious and company delightful, the dinner finished at 22:00, plenty of time to go and get changed, get a few pictures of the residence, make fond farewells and meet Andre with a big grin on my face. Unfortunately, I forgot all about Russian customs, about the need everyone has of making a long and over enthusiastic speech... So, by the time the well-whishes were finished, it was 22:40. I raced off to get changed as soon as the opportunity arised, barely said good-bye (quite rude, I aplogise Mr Mertens), Andre raced me along in yet another hair raising journey, only to arrive there at 23:04: the train was leaving in 6 minutes. I was only allowed to enter my compartment, not go into any other and then make my way in. My comparment was, of course, the furthest one on the platform. I made it with one minute to spare. I have no doubt tonight will be similar.

The trans-Siberian is a comfortable, reasonably modern and clean train, the toilets leave something to be desired but are acceptable, there is a boiling water tap in each carriage, a restaurant carriage, a doctor and two police officers on board. I had compartment 4 bed number 10. There are 4 bunks per compartment. They are reasonably wide with a softish mattress. There is also a folding table and 3 other Russians. I was with two youngsters whom I was convinced where on their way to the goulag for anti social behaviour and a women who stared at me defiantly whenever I approached my bed. I quickly dropped my bags, made my apologies and went to find Benedict (the friend of the german reporter chap). He was in wagon 3 and sharing with Vladimir, a Russian man with great views about world politics and philosophy. Very kind chap indeed and most helpful as a go between with the prodinstaya in charge of the carriage. In his compartment, there were also two other people: a mother and daugther, both Canadian from Vancouver, Angelina and Fran. We chatted happily for a few hours about everything and nothing while drinking tea (turns out that Vladimir does not drink vodka). I left them early in the morning, looking forward to my bed. When I got there, the scene was unchanged, the woman was still looking at me suspiciously and defiantly, while hugging her meager provisions of salami and bread, the two thugs (of about 16) where noisily playing cards and drinking copious amounts of vodka. I struggled to sleep at first, as I feared not only for my belongings but also for what the defiant women would do to me if I went to sleep. I imagined she would attack me with a hamer. I guess she is not keen on foreigners. After a bit of reading, I fell in a blissful sleep only to be woken up by the prodinstaya demanding money for the pleasure of the mattress.

Next morning, I exiled myself and most of my belongings to Benedict's carriage. It seems that all foreigners are stuck in the same carriages while all the Russians are amongst themselves. I was placed with the Russians because the Embassy in Moscow kindly booked my tickets, not a foreign travel agent.

I played chess with Vladimir's father; he beat me, but only just. We ate strawberries and had a relaxed time. Vladimir and his familly left the train at Kirov and so did my two thugs, only to be replaced by two drunk army officers and 30 troops; the officers were in second class, with me and the troops in dormitory class further down the train. I demanded (with the help of Vladimir) repatriation to foreign quarters and got Vlad's old bed with Benedict, Fran and Angelina. I know that some will shriek and tell me that it is not what a true traveller would do but spending another 4 days and 3 nights with 2 drunk large army officers with enough vodka to burn Siberia and a women giving me constant death stare is not my idea of a pleasant journey.

The next few days went by, blissfully happy, with a simillar routine everyday: sleep, wash, read, eat, read, walk about, pay visits to other passengers, play chess, eat, drink, sleep. Just my kind of life. Bed is 30 seconds away from restaurant, toilet is 5 seconds, constant hot tea is 3 seconds and company is all around.

I got to know Benedict fairly well. Angelina and I had a few chats, she is a very pretty half Canadian half Chinese girl, traveling with her mother to China. To the mother we did not speak very much, as she seemed to be fairly distant: she would stand in front of the window for 10 hours at a stretch and watch the trees go by. I feel I must, at this point, point out that the scenery barely changed throughout the journey: we saw birch trees by the millions if not billions or even trillions, a few patches of grass, some old datcha villages, a lot of old disused factories and a worringly high number of derelict goulag camps. When we got on the Ural, we reached a small plateau but THAT IS IT.
Anyway, she was busy watching birch trees go by and did not bother us much. She distrusted the restaurant and we had the feeling that Angelina was the reasonable mother who would read good books, make polite conversation while Fran behaved as the daughter, constantly wanting this that or the other. All in all, it was a great group to travel with, providing me with constant entertainment. Benedict and I played a lot of chess, exchanged books and talked german movies.

The train would stop about 3 to 5 times a day for 20 minutes at a time to give us time to go outside, get some fresh air, go for a walk and buy all sorts of things. As soon as the train stopped in station, a whole market would develop around it where you could buy ice creams, vodka, beers, dried fish, salami, chickens etc... Those times where also great to meet other passengers. We met Peter, who left London at the same time as myself; he is a psychatrist who left ( we speculated because of a divorce or break up) and went off travelling and would stay on the road until his funds ran out - in about a couple of years he reckoned. The great shame is that the train never stopped in the middle of nowhere, so that we could go out, swim in the many lakes, lie in the grass, etc... It always stopped in the same identical Soviet train stations.

The restaurant was typical of russian trains, very tacky with a lot of plastic flowers and blaring TV's but the food was decent and relatively cheap. The menu was an impressive list while, in actual fact, there were only about 5 dishes, 2 when we got to Irkoutsk. I am not convinced that the kitchen met all health and safety requirements concerning cleanliness but seeing vodka was available at most meals, it would kill off any germs and anything else for that matter. We didn't even drink too much, only on the second night did we meet some friendly Russians who invited us for a bottle of two. The strange thing is that both Benedict and I have the same memory blanks: we can't remember going back to our carriages nor how we paid. All our money and belongings where still there in the morning. Surprisingly effective stuff. I was careful to eat a lot and drink less but to no avail; they have had years more training then I.

The only major inconvenience was the lack of windows that could be opened on the carriages, to get fresh air. All air con and the very distinct lack of showers.

I am now completely jet-lagged as all the trains in Russia operate on Moscow time: that means that the train would not change time but the country around us would. We went through 5 different time zones. My watch (still on moscow time) says that it is 08:30 in the morning when in actual fact it is about 13:30. I am keeping my watch on Moscow time because my train to Ulan Bataar is leaving today at 15:20 Moscow time but, actually, 20:20 Irkoutsk time. Seems to me to be a bit of a silly system but hey.

Benedict is staying a few more days in Irkoutsk but will join up with me in Ulan Bataar, so that we may do some excursions together and attend the Naadam Festival.

I shall return to Irkoutsk and the lake Baikal.

Until further news from Ulan Bataar.

Yours etc...

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Comments

[cmthomas]

Chris, your reports are fascinating! I have subscribed so as to not miss the rest of the journey. Best of luck and keep the story coming! Clarence