Chapter 8 - On the Baikal Express - a train filled with humanity
I discover the sea of humanity flowing through and out of the Baikal Express on the way to Irkutsk through central Russia
Happy Canada Day!
Somewhere in central Russia on the Trans-Siberian, Saturday, 01 July 2006
I woke up this morning to the sounds of a train happily on its way through Russia’s heartland. Meanwhile, many thousands of miles away, people at home will be getting up to celebrate one of my favourite holidays: Canada Day!
In Newfoundland, it’s a joint celebration of Memorial Day and Canada Day; Memorial Day honours the great losses suffered by the then country of Newfoundland during World War I. This is something Newfoundland/Canada and Russia share. While the numbers may be wildly different, the Russian people also revere those who were lost during the two World Wars. One of the most obvious signs is the many monuments to the Second World War, no matter how small the town or village.
With those rather sombre thoughts, to all ye back home: Happy Canada Day. To everyone in Newfoundland, I send much respect on this Memorial Day.
First, let’s finish off yesterday’s story. I spent quite a bit of time talking and drinking vodka with the Danes. We also bought some Jaegermeister-like liqueur called Balzam from a vendor at a station. Yes, I know, probably not the wisest decision. However, it wasn’t bad… after the first couple of shots. Like the scenery, the time flew by around us in a blur. The two young Danes, Rosa and Natalie, have even been trying to teach me Danish.
Today, as I mentioned, is very special to me, and I want to find a way to explain this to the Russians and Danes and whomever else I meet!
Overnight, we crossed the Ural Mountains, considered the physical boundary between Europe and Asia. Sometime after midnight, the train passed the white obelisk marking the demarcation line. I decided that sleep was more important than catching a glimpse of that obelisk.
Let’s talk about the Trans-Siberian
Somewhere in central Russia on the Trans-Siberian, Sunday, 02 July 2006 (Sunday)
It’s amazing!
I’ve been on this train for two days straight, and I have yet to read a word of my books or even write a proper entry in my journal. Is this because I’ve been so bored that I’ve fallen into a Rip-Van-Winkle-like stupor?
Not at all.
As Nils and Anne-Marie, the Danish couple next door, observed, life on the train has evolved into a bubble-like community. There is now a pattern each morning with the passing landscape. Occasionally we pull into stations where we all file out onto the platform. It’s like a ship pulling into port. The babuschkas run up with goods and wares, food and drinks, and we run out with money and curiosity. Then, with a whistle—and little else as warning—our land ship pulls out. Like elves, the babuschkas and their now-lighter bags vanish from sight, only to be replaced by the now-familiar scrolling green landscape.
At first, I had dearly wished that I could have been somewhere in Canada for Canada Day. Yesterday was my most homesick day on this trip. However, I have now begun to make myself understood in both Russian and English, and I can somewhat understand the people around me. Dasha (Natasha’s daughter), for example, is actually 13, not 14 or 15 as I had thought. She spent some of last night speaking and practicing English with me.
Elena, or Lena, the Providentsia, tried teaching me Russian yesterday, much to the amusement of several travellers and Elena’s male counterpart, Roman. I had Elena and Roman pose for a photo with the Canadian flag! As I suspected, Elena is quite young—she’s 20, and Roman is not much older. I suspect Elena has quite the future ahead of her; she’s smart and not shy about speaking, which will take her far.
I met some other people on the opposite side of our carriage, though I suspect they left the train at a major stop last night. In that group, the father is Alexander (Sasha), an avionics engineer in the military. His wife is Luba, the oldest son is Arkady, and the youngest, at only age two, is Nikita. I’ve spent some fun time playing with Nikita in the narrow carriage hallway. All these conversations took place with very little common language. Human social interaction is truly amazing—we have so much in common regardless of language.
This train, the Baikal Express, has a dining car where Nils and I had a few beers. After Nils left, I ended up chatting with the Russians at the next table. They turned out to be programmers and company “commanders” from the town of Perm, going to Irkutsk on business. They were all young entrepreneurs—Sergey, Elena, Lena, and Albert—and will be launching their product in Cannes, France, in a year. I wish them much success. We bought each other beers and shared our music. I’ve also met Americans from San Diego and a few Australians, but as far as I can tell, there are no Canadians on this train.
How can I possibly be bored on a train filled with humanity—so much to learn, so many people to talk to? I believe I’m starting to get the reputation of being that “funny Canadian.”
My compartment has four bunk beds. This is double the size of the compartment I had from Berlin to Moscow. The upper beds on the Berlin-Moscow train were claustrophobic boxes, but this one is quite roomy, and I haven’t fallen out yet! The train (Baikal) seems fairly new and well maintained. Where the Berlin-Moscow train was of former East German origin, this one is a solidly built Russian train. There is a table in the compartment where we’ve stored all our food, and there is space at the bottom of the bunks and above the door for storage.
The Providentsias, Elena and Roman, take very good care of the facilities. Elena works the morning shift and her duties include cleaning the bathrooms and vacuuming each compartment and hallway. There are ladies walking through with food and snacks. The bathrooms are not perfect but remain reasonably clean. They also lock them as we approach a major city or town, since they’re not meant to be used in urban areas—so check the schedule against your beer intake! The dining car is fairly good. I’ve tried their fried fish dinner, which, while basic, is actually tasty. Of course, my companions Natasha, Mila, and Dasha have also shared their food with me.
I’ve stood watching the landscape roll past for countless hours. I could be in the middle of Canada, not Russia. Siberia and Alberta share many things in common—both are fairly flat with incredibly large vistas of birch forests, scrub, and grassland.
There are snapshots of life as we roll by:
a person picking berries
small farmhouses made of what looks like flimsy wood, making me wonder how they survive –40°C winters
a railway crossing with cars lined up
Our lives intersect so briefly that we are but a moment in each other’s life.
Unlike the Nissans and other foreign makes in Moscow, on these smaller byways I see only Ladas of indeterminate age, sometimes quite rusted and likely running on rubber-band engines.
My journey is almost over. As I write this, Natasha and Dasha will be leaving the train tonight at Tayshet. A few hours later, we will arrive in Irkutsk. Unbelievable—three days on a train and not a single page read from my books.
Train travel is anything but boring.