130908 – Russia, Moscow – Trans-Siberia Express

Broken sleep from the particularly “musical” gent in the next bed, it was a late start in the morning.nDescriptions included sounding like “a chainsaw.. cutting trees made entirely of broken glass”.
Opting to skip breakfast, Denesh and I thought we would go and see Lenin's tomb and possibly make it to Arbatskya, the main shopping street. Heading through the necessary under-pass, we acquired an assortment of pastries from a small bakery stall. Varying from mince to chicken and the most delicious being the lemon, they would hopefully tie us over till lunchtime.

Taking the convoluted route yet again, we made the queue in good time. My mystical belt of Gastronomic Weather had been agreeing with my digestive state, the weather was chilly but clear with no rain, if only yesterday had been like this!
The line to get into the tomb is adjacent to the Kremlin wall, starting in the corner of Red Square. Lodging the knapsacks into the cloak-room, the line progressed at an acceptable rate. Even so, a lady made her way up the line, offering to get us in “no wait, 1000 Rubles”.
ummm... no thanks..

Having gotten through security with nothing more than glasses and keys, Denesh and I made the walk along the Kremlin wall. Covered with name plaques on the wall with associated dates, little monuments with flowers on the green-space separating us from Red Square, we walked but solitary guards. Turning to the right and down a handful of stairs, we entered the mausoleum building.
Immediately plunged into dangerously subdued light and passing by over a dozen guards, we followed a clock-wise direction down into the building. The light guiding our way continually decreasing with no railing on the walls, several of the older visitors were struggling with the shallow steps. Finally turning a last corner, we entered into a large room with a black-marble and glass enclosure in it. Mounting the stairs, now in an anti-clockwise flow, we climbed into view of Vladimir Lenin.

Lenin was in remarkably good condition, considering his age and current state. Reclining in his carefully controlled resting place, he is gently lying as though in a chair. One hand sitting on top of the black blanket, his closed eyes and the darkness of his fingernails were all that gave away that he would not be sitting up and heading off to work after the short nap. That said, his fingernails simply look tar-stained as though from cigarettes, all of his fingernails gave it away as not living. Not as tall as the statues suggest, he was not what I was expecting.

Exiting out of the building and walking to the exit, we left the wall of the Kremlin about halfway along its length. After recovering my backpack, it was obvious that we would not make it to Arbatskya. Making a mad dash of the souvenir stalls, I failed to get another furry black hat or a military cap, settling for a matiashka doll ad a KGB and soviet adorned hip flask. Gifts would be a little light from Moscow, I only hope that I'd be able to stock up at one of the other stops.

Arriving back at the hostel, hurriedly finished freshening up and packing ensued. After sending a last few emails and getting updates that would hopefully last for the next week or two, the waiting began.

Once the entire group had assembled and gotten their shoes on, we ventured out and retraced our steps to the train terminal. In a pure act of selfishness, I briefly diverted to buy another Lemon danish while we went through the underpass. I would be very glad of this little purchase, real food.. TASTY food.. would be scarce over the next few days.

Setting up another refugee camp in the train terminal, we dispersed to purchase an extra bottle of water, cigarettes for some, I stocked up on cold and flu tablets as well as some allergy meds. It seems that the bitter cold and damp of the Kremlin had bestowed a gift upon me.. The next few days could possibly be a little challenging..

The magic words made their way through the PA system, we gathered our gear and made the final distance out the door and the the platform. Once again seeing train engines that looked like they should be towing nuclear launch gear than passengers, we found our carriage and the cranky provinista. We would all come to despise and hate the old cow by the time we got to Irkustk.


DAY ONE

The train car was of intermediate vintage, matching the entire set of carriages. We were in the “hard sleeper”, consisting of two sets of bunks in a small compartment, about 20 compartments to a carriage. I would be sleeping in the top, forward bunk for this leg of the trip. Adam, Andy and Liam were my companions.

Having dumped, stowed or shoved our main packs into the hide-holes and started to discuss music, beers, cards and when we could pull out the Vodka bottles. We'd been warned that the guards would confiscate alcohol on site, softdrink (including beer) would be fine. Crowding into a handful of compartments, the time quickly passed and eventually we were underway.

The first leg of the journey consisted of music, until Adams laptop ran out. Photos through the filthy window and excitedly discussing the upcoming journey. Anne came past and gave us the list of stations we would stop at and at what times, the location of the dining car and etiquette on the train. At the first stop, we cleaned the window and avoided buying snacks from the babushkas on the platform.

The rest of the first day revolved around swapping between compartments and performing various time-wasters. Adam put some SouthPark on until his battery finally died. We played cards and told jokes. As the darkness drew in, instant noodles came out and hot water was utilised from the end of the car. Perishables were the first to get eaten and everyone was in good spirits. As the night rolled on, drinks were plentiful. A little cart passed up an down the train every few hours, we diligently lightened the pretty lasses load by consuming multiples of the beverages. Trips to the dining car were frequent, though the prices were no better and the serving staff were less pleasant.

We also discovered that there was no electricity to speak of on the train. Adam had been unsuccessful in his attempts to charge his laptop, the provonista seemed to delight when she indicated that there was “no power”. The ladies in the dining car put on a huge grin and screamed “NO!! NO CONNECTION!!!” when we asked them, despite the DVD player they had blaring away directly behind them. Dusting off the tiny multi-meter I'd packed, we went around in twos and threes, investigating anything and everything that looked like it might provide power. Finding a minor win, the terminals in the corridor seemed to put out about 60V and was just enough to charge cameras and some of the phones. We would be without music or movies though, which really got everyone down.

On top of no music or movies, it was now that the old cow started to exert herself.
Deciding that our smiling at her, saying hello and offering her chocolate were signs of weakness, the bitter old tart started to arc up. We were perpetually too loud, not wearing shoes, wearing shoes at the magically wrong time, using the toilet at the wrong time or just being “bad”. She seemed to enjoy her own voice, particularly at volume, and must have instructed her younger offsider to behave the same. Initially very pleasant, the younger of the two (probably 22 instead of 30-something) changed her tone a few hours into the journey. Smiles were gone, greetings were not returned, please and thankyous fell on deaf ears. This would be “interesting”... The old tart finally ended the night by slamming the door open, yelling at us in Russian (she seemed to have magically forgotten the bit of english she'd displayed on our boarding), made a “sleeping sign” and slammed the door shut again. We all looked at each other in dismay, laughed and made a few comments that involved animals, her heritage and “personal life”. Still, we shortly decided to call it a night. We'd made our beds earlier that day and it was getting awfully late.

To the rocking and bumping of the train, we fell asleep. Travelling this way was certainly more comfortable and restful that I would have ever anticipated.