Trans-Siberian Express cont.

10^thJune 2018

We are somewhere between Krasnoyarsk and Novosibirsk. This train is so nice, so fresh and clean. Our carriage attendant, a very efficient Mongolian girl, is always washing the long runner carpet down the length of the carriage or dusting the doors.

The toilets are cleaned about every ten minutes. I am so glad we broke the journey in Mongolia as this train has a twin room and no bunk beds. Everything is sparkling and new.

Outside I see birch trees and orange flowers.

We pass dachas and people hoeing their allotments, then for another hour I see nothing but more birch trees. As Paul Theroux once described it, the trees begin to feel more like wallpaper than landscape, simple and repetitious. I feel a bit like being on an ocean liner, looking at a constant view. I am reading about our next station, Novosibirsk, on the River Ob. I have never heard of this river, yet it is the seventh longest river in the world.

The Trans – Siberian railway is an experience, you have a sense of occasion as you nibble almonds, drink tea or vodka, read or write. As Paul Theroux described it, it is like a luxurious form of convalescence. Ideal after our full-on tour of China. We are just so relaxed.

Monday 11^thJune

 Monday morning and still on the train, and still birch trees and I am longing to wash my hair. We arrived in Novosibirsk last night in the pouring rain so we couldn’t get off which was a pity. When we do stop, we all spill out and walk briskly up and down the platform or stare at the kiosks selling eggs, pastries, crisps and Choco-Pies. They even have their own fridge magnets!

Yesterday afternoon on a platform with a totally unpronounceable name there was a train stopped alongside us carrying Russian military. There were trucks, armoured cars, missile launchers – the wagons went on and on, and soldiers were milling about, their shirts off and licking ice creams as they enjoyed the hot afternoon sun. I wonder where they were heading? John felt a little like a spy, photographing all the weapons of war.

John and I are both reading ‘Prisoners of Geography’ by Tim Marshall; it’s a fantastic book and so apt to read as we travel  through these vast countries. In the chapter about Russia, Tim describes the bear as being the symbol of this immense nation. There it sits, sometimes hibernating, sometimes growling, majestic but ferocious. ‘Bear’ is a Russian word, but the Russians are wary of calling this animal by its name, fearful of conjuring up its darker side. They call it medved instead, ‘the one who likes honey’.

We had dinner in the restaurant carriage or pectopah last night. So much better than the Chinese offerings. We ate delicious stroganoff and chatted to some of the other travellers. There was a lovely Australian couple on their way to Europe to meet up with their sons. There were football fans and other young travellers lolling about, all connected to WIFI  with their Russian sim cards. John and I are finding the lack of communication quite fun, the unknown, when will we are arrive in Yekaterinburg? Who cares? It was 1004 miles from Novosibirsk last night. The not knowing adds to the adventure. Russia has 11 time zones but all the trains run on Moscow time. It is quite disconcerting when standing on the platform and trying to relate what time it actually is now. We are putting our clocks back an hour each day in order to offset the jet lag so it is quite odd. John keeps asking if it is 5 o’clock yet and eyeing up the vodka bottle!

We play scrabble and backgammon and stare out the window. The trees are still there, interspersed sometimes with lush green fields and thick hawthorn blossom. Sometimes a village comes into view, and there is cherry blossom and lilac. Sometimes a man stares at us from the side of the track. Where he is going? This morning I saw children going to school and sunlight striking the golden domes of churches.

I finished the Golden Lotus – over 1000 pages and when I came to the end, it suddenly said, ‘End of Volume 1’. I could have screamed. Now I shall have to wait till I get home to continue the saga, resuming with Chapter 54!

Tuesday 12^thJune

 We slept through Kazan station and in the early hours we arrived at Nizhniy Novgorod.

It was cold, so we briskly walked the length of the train and back and were bemused to see our industrious carriage  attendants washing the windows. They take such pride in keeping this train spotless, they are constantly mopping and wiping.

John came back from his morning ablutions this morning with a bleeding nick on his throat from his razor. The lurching and swerving can be quite dramatic at times, so it’s as well he doesn’t use a cut-throat razor or he would be beheaded. I am moaning about going five days without washing my hair but at least I had it cut in Shanghai. John is getting close to having a man-bun. Now that would be a new look.

And the train trundles on, getting closer to Moscow. Beside the tracks and in front of the birch trees  thousands and thousands of purple lupins are carpeting the  grass. What a glorious patchwork. It has been consistent now for hundreds of miles.

Somewhere just a little south of where we are now is Tula, where Leo Tolstoy had his estate, Yasnaya Polyana.

I look up at the sky streaked with cirrus cloud and imagine him writing about Prince Andre, lying on the field after the battle in War and Peace. This was his world. And here we are now on the way to Ekaterinburg, where the Czar Nicholas and his doomed family also travelled to – only to be shot.

History, stories, facts we have learned and I look out at purple lupins.

We ate borscht and drank beer in the restaurant, there is a feeling of an ending to our journey, the attendants have rolled up the carpets, suburbs are coming into view.

4,700 miles from China – I can’t believe it is nearly over.