Arrival in Irkutsk

I am in Irkutsk, the terminal point of my 77 hour train journey from Moscow. In two nights I will board the trans-Mongolian for the first leg of my trip to Beijing, taking a mere 34 odd hours to make it to Ulan Batur.

The train from Moscow was monotonous. Across from me, three generations of women from a Central Asian family were coming back from Moscow. An uncle completed a fourth generation. The baby had plenty of people to watch over her as they kept coming back towards our berths to play.Twice a day, the carriage attendant would run the vacuum cleaner down the hall. Three or four times a day, a man would come by pushing a cart with drinks and packaged snacks. Two times a day he would come with fried bread stuffed with meat.

One of the few electrical outlets was in our berth and people queued to charge their phones. My compartment mate became the defacto gatekeeper, making sure people kept to their place in line. Now and again a phone would sound off. Even in Siberia, you can receive a text message.

The train moved relentlessly east and the sun set earlier and earlier. Though we passed time zones, the railway clock clung stubbornly to Moscow time. When the sun shone, the windows were a filled with a riot of colors. The Siberian trees had already begun dressing for fall.

I read two novels in quick succession: one, a re-reading of Bulgokov's The Master and Margarita, and the other Pushkin's slim novel in verse Eugene Onegin.

The station stops were infrequent and short. At any that were over ten minutes we all got up to stretch our legs and take in the fresh air. Most of the time, hawkers would be ready with prepared and packaged meals. At one stop I bought eggs. At another, a chicken leg and breast. Tatiana, my compartment-mate, bought a large pink stuffed bunny. She hadwanted something larger, but was afraid it wouldn't fit in her bag. She was returning home from a few weeks vacation in Moscow and St. Petersburg. An only child, her parents were eager to see her again.

The train moved on relentlessly. Towards the end of the second day, time seemed to lose meaning, but as the third day dawned, it felt as though a countdown had begun. Twenty-four hours left. Then twenty-three.

The train started and stopped. Passengers departed. Passengers arrived. But more left than came to take their places. First our upper berths were taken by some central Asian men. Then an Uzbeck man, then no one. The central Asian men kept to their berths, living above our heads. Then, sometime in the night, another man appeared. He didn't talk to anyone.

A 21-year old medical student came to chat. He had just come back from America. He had spent some time working in Colorado, but I didn't catch where. He had spent four days in New York. He listed the places he had been. This was good. That was not.

A large Russian woman took me by the arm. Her name was Ilyana. She said friends! in her thick accent and laughed a smokers laugh. Her friend took our picture. She smiled and held me close. Her strong arms gripped mine.

We arrived. The student had put on a black I heart New York t-shirt. Tatiana and I promosed to write each other and then dasvadanya. Taxi drivers said taxi! taxi! I waited. I looked for the tram but I was tired and my stomach was unsettled. I asked how much. 300 roubles came the reply. Two, I countered. One said no. One said 250. I took the offer.

The hostel is clean and full of people. I was given a bed, some linen. I took a shower and began to feel once again whole. I went out into the city and found a restaurant where I ate omkul, the local fish, baked and served with fried round potato puffs. Outside, the sun warmed my face and body. I took off my scarf. Traded my knit cap for a baseball cap to shield my eyes from the sun. I walked and enjoyed the freedom of walking.
Posted by eku at September 26, 2008 3:49 AM