Railways III - Back to Moscow!

I made my way down to Irkutsk station to catch my train at 4.30pm local time fully prepared for the mammoth journey ahead of me, stocked up with supplies of bread, instant noodles (the staple of any Trans-Siberian traveller's diet), fruit, teabags, chocolate and litres of water. There's a restaurant car on the train usually but you quickly find that most of the menu is never available, and besides that I don't fancy eating anything prepared by a man who you find picking at his belly button when you walk up to the carriage... people of a squeamish nature should think twice before venturing near the restaurant car. But yes, I was by this point a bit more knowledgeable about the survival techniques required for such a long journey and my supplies took up most of my bag space, as is the way with the Russians who use the railways.

86 hours is a long time by any stretch of the imagination - it's three and a half days in case you hadn't already worked that out, and doing one thing for that amount of time is enough to drive anyone a bit mad. By the time I'd gone back past Perm again (still a full 24+ hours from Moscow) I could feel a bit of Jack Torrance's problems running through my veins... I'd finished the two books I'd brought with me and my MP3 player had ran out of power so I had literally nothing to do. Of course, you can talk to the other passengers to alleviate some boredom, but this time around I wasn't as luck as my previous trips on the train as the people I shared my berth with (3 women from Belarus) spoke absolutely no English at all and my Russian still only extends to "What is your name?", "Where are you going?" and "Where's my hostel?", none of which are the foundations for an enthralling discussion in any one's language. What's more, the women I shared with had no interest in talking to me at all - not in an offensive way I have to say, but they weren't motivated to struggle through an hour long conversation which contained about as much actual information as an American Presidential debate. So there I was with 24 hours to go and nothing at all to do except sleep, daydream and stare out of the window... it passed very very slowly!

I have to tell you a bit about the women who shared my berth this time around because although I didn't get to speak to them, you can learn a lot from observing their group dynamics and generally just being around them. The first thing that struck me was their smell - like cabbage and mince boiled in sweat... it really was that disgusting. I mean, the train smells quite bad at the best of times but nowhere near as bad as this. From what I could gather, two of them were sisters and they constantly seemed to bicker with each other whilst the other woman squirmed uncomfortably which made me think she didn't really know them. They fought over everything: who won the card game, who's turn it was to make the tea, how many pieces of sausage constituted "enough", and who got to drink the vinegar from the pickled gherkins. Then, on top of this constant smell and noise during the day, they both snored ridiculously loudly anytime they closed their eyes for more than thirty seconds. To my mind, any non-snorer stuck sharing a sleeping space with a snorer that does so for over an hour should be within their legal rights to smother the offender. I couldn't be thankful enough that I'd Jenny had given me earplugs to take with me and that I'd actually remembered them... without them I don't think I would've slept for the duration of that trip.

Despite the monotony of life on the train, every-so-often you're audience to some fantastic pieces of theatre. To explain this properly I'll try and let you know a little bit about the alcohol drinking culture here in Russia because it's one stereotype which has been completely fulfilled in my experience - Russian people like to drink. A lot. On the street, on the train, in cafes, in take-aways, on buses, in cars, whilst driving, at night, during the day... If they could find a way to do it whilst sleeping I'm sure there would be some takers. I remember reading an article in the Guardian about 6 or 7 months ago which said about how bad this problem had became in Russia and that to get an alcohol fix, some people had taken to buying cheap aftershave or perfume and drinking that because the cost to alcohol ratio was way higher than any spirits of any kind - from being here now I can honestly believe that that could be the truth for a lot of people, especially those living on the street. On my carriage was a man who quite clearly liked his drinking and beer made up about 70% of his luggage. He spend all day everyday absolutely hammered, not just a bit tipsy or "under the influence", but out of it, barely able to stand, only functioning to lift a cigarette or another can to his lips. And he wasn't a small man, he must've been about 6 foot 4 and at least 17 stone. On the last night I got to see one of the funniest things I have ever seen in my life and it directly involved this bear of a man as he attempted to get into his bunk whilst barely able to see because he'd drank so much. The step up to the bunks which run parallel to the walkway are tiny and I found it difficult enough whilst sober to clamber up them so you can only imagine how difficult this man found it. He must've been at it about 20 minutes and by this point the whole carriage was watching excitedly as he tried various combinations of techniques to reach his bed... he then had helpers come and push him up (I didn't volunteer because his exertions had made him sweat like I'd never known humanly possible) to finally reach his bed for the night. Or so he thought! The attendant had been watching from the end of the train, doubled over in hysterics at this mini circus and had clearly known all along that he was getting into the wrong bunk! She walked up to him as he must've just been dropping off to sleep and stirred him - as you can imagine he wasn't best pleased, but the rest of the carriage thought this was hilarious, me included. The whole procedure then had to happen over again for him to get into his actual bunk and everyone took great delight in watching him struggle again. I ached from laughing so much and I'd actually started to cry with laughter during his second attempts... it really was that funny. That alone was worth the train fare to Moscow.

I got into Moscow station at about 4.20am on the Saturday morning and decided that rather than pay for a hostel for just a few hours sleep I'd take my chances dossing in the train station. What I didn't know is that the police don't like this, and carry out random checks on people's tickets, as well as consistently moving along anyone who falls asleep... I didn't get any rest at all and in fact ended up getting exercise as I was constantly moved along by different policemen. I took part in this game for about 4 hours before deciding enough was enough and heading off to my hostel again. The next couple of days I finished up with sight-seeing in Moscow that I hadn't done the first time I'd been there, which included going to the Kremlin and Lenin's mausoleum. When I hear the words "The Kremlin" it conjours up images of spies being tortured, of power and threat, all negative connotations which I'm sure has a lot to do with the propaganda we were subjected to about Russia, but they actually mean "citadel" and once inside the walls of this mini-city you're presented with 4 absolutely massive cathedrals, which I didn't expect at all. As with all the cathedrals I'd seen to date they were all very ornate and must've taken a lot of maintenance to keep them looking the way they did. The only one that I really wanted to see what the Assumption Cathedral which has the throne of Ivan the Terrible in it, but that was handily closed to the public on the day I was in. That day though there was a big military parade and show in the square in the Centre of the Kremlin (the place is absolutely massive, I was taken aback at how big it is inside those walls) which was interesting to watch. I read about how in Stalin's day these type of shows were done to symbolise unity and power whilst also giving a collective feeling of "rapture and enthusiasm", and that seemed to be the aim that day as well as the soldiers goose-stepped around whilst a brass band played stirring anthems. An article in The Moscow Times talked about how this new Russian government (Putin and Medvedev) and also the younger generations still have an obsession with Stalinism and that period in their history, and that was backed up by this display, something I thought was just for the tourists but was actually being played out live on the Russian national news and radio. The article itself was very derogatory and blamed this obsession with the past on Russia's inability to move on in the eyes of the rest of the world, something I hadn't experience first hand until inside the Kremlin, but it rang very true with that display.

Lenin's mausoleum, where you can go and view the preserved body of the man himself, is now considered to be a bit of an embarrassment to the country and there's been much deliberation over whether to bury him or leave him on display. Handily for him, Putin put off any decision until 2012 leaving himself free of any controversy over the outcome. Lenin only accepts visitors between 10am and 1pm and you have to queue for a good twenty minutes to get in, whilst not being able to take in cameras, phones, bags or wearing any clothing which is deemed "offensive", such as shorts. Since it was only about 5 degrees outside that day I had jeans on so there were no worries with that. En route to the mausoleum itself you're shepherded past the graves of many other great communist minds, none of which were as clever as Lenin of course (did you know his brain was officially bigger than that of the average human? Hmmmm....) so weren't deserving of being kept on display beside him. You then go down some black marble steps in the pitch dark and turn a corner to the right where there's a glass case in the centre of the room bathed in red light... and inside is the man himself, tiny in stature and looking like a doll. It's a strange experience, and whilst I can understand that there is to be some reverence for the dead, the way the soldiers treat you on the way around (I was shouted at loudly to take my hands out of my pockets and made to move along, not stare too long at him) just makes it all seem a bit ridiculous. I found myself wondering if before he died he'd have known that this would be the way he'd be stored, mummified on display with overly-angry men shouting at tourists in the close vicinity, if he'd have decided to tell them to bury him. In trying to maintain his dignity they simply remove any shred of it which is left.

The last day in Moscow, where I'd met Tom again, we went over to Gorky Park - made famous by the film of the same name - for a wander around and to get out of the claustrophobic confines of the city centre. Moscow is a cool city and it's exciting to be there as a tourist, but it would take an awful lot to make me move there for any period of time. The police presence on the streets is heavy and unsettling (although I've had no run-ins with them, yet) and it's just so expensive. Plus, like any other capital city I've been to, every one's very busy rushing around and doing something which seems vitally important as life flies on around them. I don't think it would be healthy to move there for any long period of time. So now I'm in St Petersburg, the European capital of Russia... well, I've actually been here since Monday but I've fallen a bit behind in writing my blogs and am actually leaving St Petersburg for Tallinn tonight. I'll write about this place next time, it's a fantastic city and I've had an amazing week, topped off yesterday by Sunderland's thoroughly deserved victory over Newcastle. Come on, you didn't expect me to not say anything about it did you?! I watched it with a load of lads from the north east of England who are here working on a Nissan factory... you meet people from your home town in the strangest places. But aye, I've had a great week here and will write about it from Estonia...

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