Train, Day the Last

I'm a day late again. I know this. That's why on this post, you get to see not just a photo from last year's today, but a video too.

Three days on a train is a long time. You can sleep, read, listen to music, drink vodka and beer, eat, play backgammon, cards, and nap. There really isn't much more. I didn't mind it so much, but the nights were slightly stifling. Sitting in the dining car for breakfast, this is how Adam felt about the heat in the bunks at night.

He may well be loading his imaginary gun to blow his brains out.

Looking out the window in Siberia is beautiful, but even that can get old since there are days worth of the same view from the windows. Most of the variety comes from the time of day and quality of light. This is a brief video of early morning somewhere east of Lake Baikal, our last day on the three day train from Khabarovsk.

A Brief Stop

This is the Chernyshevsk-Zabaikal'skiy train station, located riiiight about here. The statue is the man the station and town is named after, Nikolay Chernyshevsky. We had a quick break here last year today at around 8:30PM local time, which was hours ahead of the official train time which is on Moscow's clock.

For three days, the only time Adam and I got off the train was at brief stops, between 5 and 25 minutes, at various stations such as this one. Generally, we'd get off and stretch on the platform a bit in our shorts and flip-flops, blending into the other passengers comfortably dressed in track suits and sweatpants.

Here's another photo of the station, from a more distant perspective with the tracks and entire building in view. Maybe it's an old photo, previous to some renovations or just not well shot, but it sure looks a lot shittier than it does in my picture.

Russia, Train 2, Day 1

I like long train rides, and last year's today was the beginning of the longest train ride I took the whole trip. We left in the morning and rolled past golden hills and blue skies. Fall isn't really the most popular time for tourists to ride the Trans-Siberian, and we were going the opposite way of most tourists anyway, so it was a relatively quiet ride on our first day, perfect for a couple beers in the dining car, contemplating the passing fields and hewn cabin villages.

All Aboard

I'm a day late again. And a dollar short. Oh well, here is a photo from a year ago yesterday.

This is a Russian man named Igor who speaks no English. He wandered into our compartment looking for conversation and drinking buddies. He spoke for hours, it seemed, and all we could do was say "da" and smile and wonder what the hell he was talking about.

Igor was intent on smashing down any language barrier by constantly repeating things he said until we pretended to understand. The only thing I did grasp was "vodka", a word he uttered just before disappearing to fetch us a bottle.

Nice enough guy, I think, but I was still relieved when another compartment mate of ours got on. This guy spoke English and eventually our English-only conversation cut out Igor enough that he decided to wander back to his own compartment.

The rest of the evening involved more vodka.

A Day on the Town

If you want to be an ass about it, I know it's already the next day and this is late. Just relax, there's a time difference or something.

We managed to drag ourselves out of bed and walk around the city, which is pretty small. We started at the end of the Trans-Siberian Railway, what would really be the start for us. There's a decorative locomotive sitting on the platform, and this post with the kilometer marker. It's a long ride to Moscow.

We moved on to mingle amongst a bunch of old people on land for a few hours off their cruise ship (traveling by cruise ship, pff, who does that?), walked past Yul Brynner's birthplace, hung out at a festive section of sea side and rode a funicular up and down a hill.

Funicular.

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.

The Trans-Siberian

Adam and I had a kupe berth leaving Vladivostok in the afternoon. We hauled our bags in and said hello to the woman we were apparently sharing the four-bed room with. She soon moved next door to hang out with her friend, leaving the place to ourselves.

Soon a Russian man stumbled into our cabin. He spoke no English, and though we were quite clear that we understood no Russian, he managed to hold a ceaseless one-sided conversation. It turns out that this is a trend with inebriated men on trains.

After maybe 20 minutes of gesticulations and lots of nodding and saying "da", all I gathered was that his name was Igor and he didn't like playing cards. In fact, he seemed frightened at the prospect.

The next thing I understood was "vodka". He said the word while making a tipping gesture with his pinkie and thumb. Adam was feeling sick but I agreed, not so much wanting to drink, but if he was drinking, he wasn't talking.

Igor came back with a small unopened bottle, and then had to go find a glass when he discovered that I didn't have one. The drinking commenced with occasional interludes of Russian soliloquys.

Eventually, a bear of a man with dark hair and a tiny braid in the back came in, casually speaking English to translate what Igor was trying to tell us. This was Mikael, a driller who explained his job by saying, "Bruce Willis in Armageddon."

Mikael kinda scared Igor off for some reason, maybe because he could speak English. "School lessons", he insisted, although he was surely being modest. Mikael was 28 years old and his handshake nearly pulverized my hand.

We talked a bit with Mikael, about his three girlfriends and learned that in order to avoid mixing up the names of Russian girls, we can just say "ripka", the equivalent of "honey" or "darling".

Soon three more guys from an adjoining cabin piled in, with a large bottle of vodka and zakuska, drinking food to be taken after vodka shots, like a chaser. One such delicacy was pig fat, but the best zakuska, word had it, was pickles.

I didn't want to get too drunk and wind up like Igor, who occasionally wandered past our cabin, looked in and nodded and wandered on, so I was relieved when the big old guy who brought the vodka poured a couple of shots to empty the bottle. Then, I thought "Oh Jesus" as he brought out an unopened bottle.

The Trans-Siberian guidebook warned us that turning down drinks is extremely difficult in Russia, as Russians can be very determined. One method the book suggested was to say you were an alcoholic. Another method that Mikael used which seemed to work was to say you are on antibiotics. At least I thought I heard him use the word.

The three guys who joined us all worked for the same company. They were good fun, just for the fact that Adam and I found ourselves in a pretty interesting scene, crammed into a steamy kupe cabin with four Russians, "regular Russians", Mikael translated for us. I tried insisting that we were regular Americans too, but Mikael replied, "Regular Russians do not travel in America."

Fair point.

The party came to an end before I got very drunk fortunately. The woman who was originally in our cabin got off earlier in the evening, but she was replaced by a young mother and her four-year old daughter. Adam was spot on when he said the daughter was eerily similar in looks and cuteness to Cindy Lou-Who of "How the Grinch Stole Christmas".

Well the guys cleared out when she arrived, and fast. It was a funny scene. We all got ready for bed, and I soon realized that it may have been better if I got a lot more drunk because the cabin was way too hot to sleep in.

Adam had it worse than I, saying he didn't sleep at all when we got off the train around 7AM the next morning. I got some sleep, but could've used a lot more.

We had considered just dumping our bags somewhere and exploring Khabarovsk for the day and leaving in the evening, but thank god we decided to spend the night Couchsurfing and relax a little.