The Trans-Siberian Railroad is one of those few human accomplishments that still turns heads in today’s society—like the Great Wall or the Pyramids or the Acropolis. But of these, the Trans-Siberian is clearly more recent, and yet, less familiar to Americans. It stretches across almost the entire length of the world’s largest country—covering 5,753 miles, seven time zones, and requiring 8 days to traverse at a go. When we learned we would be traveling the train from Moscow to Vladivostok, we started reading up about it. Word of mouth hinted that it would be dirtier and noisier than we imagined, and that we would be drinking a lot (as this was the custom). In contrast, blog posts and travel books suggested it would be grungy and boisterous and we would be drinking a LOT. Thus, we prepared ourselves to chat for hours in pidgin Englian or Rusglish as bottles of vodka and samogon, fish, and pickles were passed around into the wee hours of the night. We anticipated these rituals with equal parts excitement and trepidation, often saying to people with a smile and a shrug, “Yep, it’s gunna be an adventure.” So it was with this mindset that we boarded our train in Moscow, prepared for a 33 hour “Russian Experience: the stuff great stories are made of.”
Upon boarding the train, at about a quarter to 10 in the evening, we definitely caught the attention of everyone in our wagon. The economy class was jam-packed with bunk beds, set in groups of three, with one bed parallel to the aisle at our right, and two perpendicular to that on the other side, separated by a short table. Barreling through the tiny passage with our several loaded packs and net poles, we disturbed a number of people already dozing in their beds. After some trouble, we managed to seat our huge duffel on a shelf with the help of a giant, shirtless Russian man who insisted on lifting the bag himself. (I couldn’t help noticing his wife massaging his back for pretty much the rest of the trip...and feeling a little guilty.) Luckily for us, the lower bunk to the right of the aisle rotates into a table, and as apparently no one had the bed under Liz’s, we were able to sit in comfort by the window until someone claimed it at some point during the second night.
The first thing we noticed about the train was how utterly quiet the place was. Even before they dimmed the lights at 11, people spoke only in whispers to their nearest neighbors. A thirtyish shirtless guy (pretty much all the men were shirtless due to the steam-sauna quality of the compartment) told us in English we could ask him for help if we needed. Further inquiry led to the discovery that he and his wife were traveling home after a vacation in Thailand (which was amazing and much better than Russia). We then learned through a couple of abortive exchanges that he had approximately no interest in further chit-chat, and had spoken to us out of a reflexive impulse of good will which he perhaps regretted. This interaction, which happened within the first 30 minutes of our trip, would be the most extensive of the first leg of our Trans-Siberian travels. Also, to our surprise, the English-speaking guy and his two friends drank one beer each and seemed to be the only ones to do so. There were signs, though (a man with glassy eyes, an easy smile, and a gait which swayed more with the train car than most) that some were stiffening their drinks, though not in the gregarious fashion we had come to expect. We later learned that drinking vodka on the trains was made illegal recently, due to some passengers being drugged and their luggage taken, and that drinking beer might soon be outlawed as well. In fact, at the moment, Russia seems to be in the throes of a collective societal intervention, as life expectancy hovers around 74 for females, but only 62 for males. But apparently this has all arisen quite rapidly, since the accounts we had read prior to our trip were only a year or two out of date.
So, actually, our trip from Moscow to Kamyshlov (four hours past Yekaterinburg by train) was quite uneventful. We passed the time watching monotonous birch-filed flats roll by, with the occasional disintegrating village or logging operation disrupting the scenery from time to time. Occasional rainstorms and the constant threat of them made every bout of book reading turn into a cat nap. And then some quiet conversation in the hushed compartment, another night gone, and we had nearly arrived. After a semi-confused conversation between Liz and one of the attendants, we arranged to move our luggage to the space between cars to stage for the jump. This was well done on Liz’s part because on the Trans-Siberian there are no bells, announcements, or any sign displaying the stop name, and in towns such as Kamyshlov, the train stops for around 120 seconds.
And then, quite suddenly after such a long train ride, there were Nik and Victor (our interpreter and driver for our week at the research station in the Yekaterinburg area). Nik introduced himself and offered to grab one of my bags. Standing there, the only two people to disembark at Kamyshlov, haggard and surrounded by our mountain of luggage and gear, I asked Nik, “How did you know it was us?”
-Matt
And then, quite suddenly after such a long train ride, there were Nik and Victor (our interpreter and driver for our week at the research station in the Yekaterinburg area). Nik introduced himself and offered to grab one of my bags. Standing there, the only two people to disembark at Kamyshlov, haggard and surrounded by our mountain of luggage and gear, I asked Nik, “How did you know it was us?”
-Matt