The Obligatory Travel Conversation

It's not long traveling until you realize you've had the same conversation with everyone you've met. Where are you from? Oh, I've been there, [say hello in their language]. Where did you come from? How was it? What's your name? Cool. Where are you going? I've heard that place is a-MA-zing. How long are you traveling for? Oh, I'm traveling for longer (thought silently).

This "conversation" is mandatory, and some people just love it. It bores the hell out of me. It's truly miserable after the hundreth time. You get the same set of answers. I know it's necessary though - you have to start somewhere. You can't just walk up to someone in a foreign land, shake their hands, make creepy eye contact and ask them if they believe in god. Unless you're a Mormon or Jehovah's Witness.

Like I said, some people wallow happily in it like pigs in shit. I try to get it over with as quickly and abruptly as possible, so I can move on to more interesting things. I rely heavily on trolley/surgeon dilemmas just to hear what people say. Not familiar with trolley dilemmas? The bro over at Philosophy Bro can give you the lowdown.

A certain someone I traveled with for four months seemed to put up with the obligatory conversations pretty well. Sorry brosef, but I remember we met someone once, might've been the Swiss girl in the van to Luang Prabang, and as you two were having the Conversation, I just thought, Kill Me Now. By now a seasoned traveler, I know at this point you're regaling all sorts of people with far more dialogs.

Anyway, Adam and I relied heavily on Would You Rathers to entertain each other, and soon employed classics like "Would you rather spend the rest of your life with latex gloves on, or have your fingers perpetually covered in Doritos powder?" to keep other travelers on their toes. There's always Would You Rathers concerning superpowers, but flying always wins, so it's not so interesting.

The Conversation is possible to overcome. Once the basics are laid down, a blunt question is generally acceptable, and you can move on to discussing involuntary organ-harvesting from executed Chinese convicts.

For the record, I support organ-harvesting, but I don't support the death penalty. If you're gonna ice some people though, might as well make use of them. That was a good conversation to have on a rooftop bar below the peaks of Yangshuo, even when a pony-tailed over-the-hill Canadian hippie butted in and started talking about slippery moral slopes and living and dying for ideals, and his younger sidekick really missed the point and started mentioning souls.

One of the best responses I got from one Conversation was from an Australian girl in Hue. At some point early on I asked her where she was from but she seemed not to hear and instead went on talking about the book she read that brought her to this town. About twenty minutes later when there was a break in the conversation, she said, "I'm from Sydney." I asked you that like twenty minutes ago, replied I. "Yeah, I don't really like to get into that stuff so soon."

At least I know I'm not the only one sick of it. Hey, thanks for stopping by.

10 Tips for the Trans-Siberian Railway

Ethan has been kind enough to let me contribute to this blog. I thought it would be too much work to keep up my own personal blog and I doubted I would have something inspiring in which to write and share with a good frequency. I’m not pulling any punches in this post, so let me apologize in advance for any Russian people I may offend (I still need to cross a border to get out). Here are a few tips and tricks you may find useful for your own Trans-Siberian Railroad adventure.

1. Arrive about 30 minutes early before the train departs. That should allow you enough time to grab some food from the supermarket (for the days long train ride) and sufficient time to get stopped by the police for jaywalking to the supermarket.
   
   a. Not being able to speak Russian has the advantage of defusing any sort of run ins with the law. Apparently, apathy on the job is universal.
   
   
2. Not being able to speak Russian has a similar affect on the train ticket sales clerks. Here are some tried and true methods at accomplishing the important task of getting your train ticket:
   
   a. Our Kiwi friend James recommends pulling out a map, pointing to the town or city while smiling, shaking his head up and down, and repeating the word “tomorrow” in the local language. Its not the most tactful approach, but he made it half way across Russia using this method. When I think about the fact that about every 2-5 weeks I will need a different language to converse with locals, there is a lot to be said about this approach.
   
   b. Ethan and I have been successful at writing down everything we need using the Lonely Planet and a Russian phrase book. Quantity, departure date, class, one way or round trip, how much does it cost, and what time does it leave are the important things. A good method for getting information back is providing the clerk with the information you want using fill in the blanks, like this: Train # ______ leaves at ________ Moscow time and costs ________.
   
   c. Befriend a Russian that speaks English, like our very kind and helpful couchsurfing host Marjana. That is the way to go if you are so lucky.
   
   
3. You’re going to meet some Russians. That shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone on a Russian train. But as a consequence, be prepared to drink some vodka. Perhaps a half liter of vodka. Per hour.
   
   a. If you don’t want to have any vodka, I suggest you tell your new Russian friends that you are an alcoholic. Our translator Mikael told me the cure for the common cold in Siberia is vodka with some powered vitamin C mix, so our guests were not very convinced with my “I have a cold” line.
   
   
4. Keep the conversation going even if you have no idea what is going on. Saying “da” will work, and repeating the last word of the sentence also seems to get a good response. Be prepared to find out after the fact that you’ve just been engaged to the husky woman in compartment 13 because you agreed that her Clydesdale strong legs would make her a valuable asset in America -- I guess she’ll join a sleigh of work horses.
   
   
5. Be prepared for stuffy cabin berths maintained at sauna temperatures. It will be the worst on the top bunks, and the temperature will increase throughout the day, being the most uncomfortable just before it is time for bed. Then you can lie in bed for the next 7 hours engulfed with bitter frustration knowing that it is 10 degrees cooler for your bottom bunked mates that are using their heavy sheet for warmth. But that is just a guess how one might feel in that situation.
   
   
6. Don’t even think you’ll get a good nights sleep due to the awful temperatures. I suggest the following alternatives:
   
   a. During the day, hang out at the head of the wagon. When none of the provodnitsas are around, throw all the wood out the train window. The potential consequences may seem worth it the longer you are on the train.
   
   b. Bring sleeping pills. I’m not sure you’d be successful getting these in Russia if you don’t speak Russian. Plan in advance.
   
   c. Forgo sleep and try to nap during the day. This will allow you time to read in the narrow hallway in the middle of night and get strange looks from the providnitsa that occasionally will have a 15 minute conversation with you. (“Conversation” in this sense is defined as sounds uttered in the general direction of another individual who does not understand any of it. Not a single word).
   
   d. Triple up on tip number 3a.
   
   
7. You’ll want to make sure you bring food that is non-perishable and can survive storage for multiple days at high temperatures. Here is a list of some recommended options:
   
   a. Fruits and vegetables. That’s just sound nutritional advice.
   
   b. Ramon noodles. Hopefully your doctor just ordered you get about 10 times your recommended daily sodium intake. The head of each wagon has a boiler for hot water. I can guarantee it is sterile and will certainly melt skin if it touches you. But don’t expect it to be crystal clear due to all the rust.
   
   c. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
   
   d. Melted chocolates. You can opt for regular chocolates at the beginning. You’ll need these to treat your guests pouring shot after shot of vodka.
   
   
8. Here is a list of things that, through trial and error, are not well recommended:
   
   a. Spicy soft cheeses. If the cheese isn’t spicy the first day, it will be on the second. On the third day, a response team from Chernobyl might arrive. You’ve been warned.
   
   b. Hard deli meats. At 80 deg. F, your delicious salami will start sweating and oozing white globules of fat out (sexual innuendo not intended). It seemed like a good choice at first, but I couldn’t even think about it on day two.
   
   
9. Some people will be skeptical if you carry around a DSLR camera. As Ethan cautioned me as I was about to walk around the train with my camera, “I just got some long looks from some shady people while walking to the dining cart”.
   
   
10. Some Russians may have a hard shell, but upon further conversation, all of them I’ve talked to have been incredibly friendly. And if you run into any problems, it doesn’t hurt to be American. The Russian psyche seems to have a bond with America, despite all the cold-war history. I think one of the highlights of my second train ride was meeting an inebriated Russian guy, Alexy’s friend, who was so excited to learn we were American, he wrapped Ethan and I in a big bear hug while uncontrollably laughing with joy and shouting “Amerika” three octaves higher than just a moment ago. Awesome.

- Adam

The Trans-Siberian Part 2

Adam and I moved into a 4 person kupe cabin with a beefy mother and daughter pair. They looked like they were in for the long haul, dressed in full-on train clothes, with bags of food ready to eat and a duffel bag full of DVDs to watch on their computer.

At the time, they were watching "She's Out of Your League" dubbed in Russian. That movie sucks really hard by the way, don't watch it whatever you do. Sorry Moise.

I figured we'd spend the entire three days with them. We did, but I have no complaints. They didn't bother us, and I don't think we bothered them. They certainly didn't push vodka and pig fat on us.

There were no spontaneous drinking parties on this trip, but we did learn something else: Russians will speak to you in Russian for a long time, even though you clearly don't understand Russian.

This is endearing at first. You think, "Oh this guy is really interested in talking to me!" That lasts for about five minutes and then you realize that no matter how many times you nod your head and look bewildered, they won't stop.

Such determination is borderline obnoxious when it goes on too long. I learned that there is something to be said for the American attitude of instantly giving up on someone when communication is even slightly difficult.

As it was, our provodnitsa cornered us nearly every time we left the cabin. She was pleasant and friendly, a welcome change from the generally stern provodnitsas, but she would go on and on and on while we just smiled and repeated a random word now and then to feign comprehension.

Same with Alexy, a cheerful guy with hard-to-ignore toothrot who gave me his email address seconds after meeting him. I have no idea what he expected me to do. I'm guessing it had something to do with sending him a photo. He accosted me a couple times and let me practice my "da"s and nods.

Alexy's drunk nameless friend was the same way, but far more animated and red-faced than Alexy. He seemed to want to know what car we were staying in so he could come mystify us some more, but he never followed up fortunately.

And in the dining car, too! Adam and I were playing backgammon and a table of two drunk Igors and a Mongol Alyosha came over and pushed their way into our seats. Igor Number 1 was a little brighter than the rest and cleared everyone out after a few minutes, only to have them all come over again, until the dining car provodnitsa yelled at them. Then they just yelled random English phrases over from their table, like: "Shudda fuckup!" and so on. I assume that's all they picked up from the movies.

Not to say I don't want Russians to talk to me, that's not what I'm saying. I just want to make it clear that "conversations" exceeding 5 minutes when neither party understands the other can be a bit tedious.

Not everyone was like that though. I was standing by the single open window in the aisle, next to a young Russian guy that looked like he was a soldier. He turned to me and said, "Tourist?" and I said, "Da." He nodded and turned away for another minute. He would say one word, I would respond. Then we'd wait a minute, and I would say something, and he would respond. It was an exchange as refreshing as the air blowing into the overheated carriage.

The hours rolled by, and the train would rock and sway. We played games on our top bunks, make little picnic lunches of sliced meat and cheese and bread, or watch the scenery go by. The leaves were different each day, going from light orange to a gold, and more bare to less as we traveled west. We took photos through the train windows and drank beer in the dining car. When there was a long stop, we'd get out and stretch our legs with everyone else.

We napped and we made train-themed playlists for each other on our MP3 players. Adam made me one solely of The New Pornographers. The one I made for him went like this:

1. Bruce Springsteen - John Henry
2. Jeffrey Lewis - Roll Bus Roll
3. Flock of Seagulls - I Ran
4. Gorillaz - Stylo
5. Johnny Cash - Orange Blossom Special
6. The Brian Jonestown Massacre - Arkansas Revisited
7. The Pogues - And The Band Played Waltzing Matilda

We finally got off the train in Irkutsk, after one moderately comfortable night sleeping, another a little too hot, and three days of needing a shower and a change of clothes.