Podvinista

We pulled away from Moscow station at exactly 11:52pm. It wasn't so much the shiny red train emblazoned with CCCP that we had from St. Petersburg. It was more like a white-turned-dingy-gray, older train with awful graphics.

Immediately we met our friend for the next four days, the older female attendant of the carriage known as the "Podvinista." Her duties include ensuring riders' safety, comfort and cleanliness of the carriage. As well as trying to scam money as much money as possible out of people. Ours proceeded to set the ground rules early on by questioning anything about each passengers ticket ( i.e. corresponding passport numbers which is odd since the final destination of the train was still in Russia) that tried to board the train. Her aloof indifference to whether people got on or not made sure people knew that she was in charge, even though you knew she had no leg to stand on. One group literally didn't think she was going to let them on until 5 minutes before departure when she finally shrugged her shoulders and stood aside while they scrambled with huge packs for space in their compartments, giving no reason why she 'changed her mind.'

We also made friends with the girl who sold stuff out of the cart, beer, soda, snacks -- namely beer. Found out her name was Tanya, and that she spoke some German and that was it. Communication was difficult from there on out but she hung out in our compartment nevertheless.

Claire and Sarah went to sleep but Andy stayed up and talked to her some more in between the cars. Too bad there were no windows because the air quickly gets rank on this train. At Vladimir stop, a 20 minute diversion, she gets off and tells Andy to come help her buy some more stuff away from the train around behind the station. It's two thirty in the morning and the train is quickly approaching the middle of nowhere. "No way," Andy says, "I'm staying right here next to this train."

Later after everyone was back on safely, the prodvinista was concerned about everyone's sleep. "Go to sleep," she said to us as she motioned with her head on her hands. It was kind of her but Tanya and her started yelling in Russian back and forth about how she should mind her own business and that we will decide when we are sleepy or not.

The next day was a full day riding. The scenery stayed surprisingly the same. Virtually none. Except for a few patches of open land, most of the time the scenery was blocked (similar to the non-openable windows) with either shrubs on either side of the tracks or trees or a high embankment with the train traveling through the bottom of the 'trench.' The stops we did have, we bought snacks and drinks and some interesting dumplings -- which is where I think the mutton began.


The next day brought strikingly similar scenery, and the houses that we did manage to see (through the shrubs, trees or embankment) were remarkably similar. Simple peasant wooden houses amidst large swaths of land.

At this point I needed to charge my camera, and it is also at this point I realized the difference to the prodvinista between using the outlet for 'shaving' or for 'charging.' There is a switch they can turn on which feeds power to all the outlets in the carriage. They usually leave it off and I quickly found out why. 50 Rubles per 1/2 hour, she wrote on a piece of paper. Which of course, she would pocket quietly -- the entire train runs on electricity so it's there aplenty and no skin off her. It was outrageous also because I didn't know how long I would need so I negotiated with her and worked out a price. However, she started making it more difficult because she wanted the time to begin immediately and we were coming to a stop that I needed to film. She essentially said, "sorry, it begins now," after my pleading. She finally relented a few minutes extra after, however and I managed to get some time back as she checked about 20 minutes into my charging and asked if it was working. "No," I said, seeing that it was indeed charging. She went back and fiddled with something then didn't return for almost aother 30 minutes when she said that was enough. She already had my money and she didn't give change. And this is how the war started.

Later that night, Andy had bought a giant smoked fish on the platform to share with everyone. The podvinista must have followed her nose because she throws open the cabin door in disgust as we are all devouring this fish and gives everyone in the group a dirty look. Later, we met others on the train and had a party in our compartment, but didn't care at this point -- forget 'cultural differences' -- we were tired of being 'nice.' The prod. had thrown down the gauntlet. So the party grew and grew and got more and more loud -- so much so that by the time we reached Novosibirsk, Andy had pulled out the video camera and was filming the prodvinista walking around, provoking her, which she seemed to not enjoy although she did try to extort money for being filmed. I mean come on, isn:t it a free country?.... Later, as everything was dying down, the police boarded the train told us to stop.

No one in the carriage seemed to have sympathy for her though as she jacked up everyone's price of beer way high. For the next two days, we would wonder if she would intentionally keep the air conditioning (remember the windows didn't open) at a border line anemic level so it never really got cool, so that she could sell more cold beverages at inflated prices. Or maybe she would just charge people to turn the air conditioning up...

The next two days brought about another astonishing non-change in scenery. Perhaps the most surprising thing about this long leg of the journey was actually the LACK of diversity. It seemed like hour after hour, day after day, we would have the same obscuring views of shrubs, trees, and embankment with the very occasional glimpse of open land with the same exact wooden peasant houses. Even the faces of the people that we would see selling dumplings or noodles or beverages on the platform, didn't really change that dramatically over the course of four days. It was astonishing actually.

The podvinista would prove to make some money off our car but not really. It seems like everyone in our group bought everything from the people selling on the platforms at the stops. Which, some were whispering is probably why the air conditioning remained tepid all the way to Irkutsk. She also seemed obsessed with the floor runners on the train corridor for some reason -- this tacky pink and blue striped long piece of cotton that was supposed to protect an even tackier carpet -- every day, twice a day they would carefully place it back down the length of the carriage and stretch it. Also, at every stop they would wipe the white poles on the outside of the train where people would grab to descend to the platform. we appreciated their meticulousness, but would have preferred it directed at the filthy toilets they tortured people with by keeping locked way longer than they were supposed to outside of stations.

Finally, we made it on the fourth day to our destination - the remote, former Siberian trading town of Irkutsk where we would stay for three days and visit Lake Baikal. As we got off the train, we didn't know how to say farewell to our friend for four days, the podvinista. It turned out not to matter anyway -- she had mysteriously disappeared entirely as soon as the train had stopped.

Shushed

Woke up to the 2nd highest TV tower in the world (next to Toronto's CN Tower) as the Russian capital emerged from the distance. Were met by our guide and briefly hit major spots-- the Orthodox Church of Our Savior, which at one point was demolished to build a freakish city capitol/monument with a giant statue of Lenin, complete with with a heliopad in the palm of his hand. The entire plan was mysteriously scrapped and the church was painstakingly recreated as the symbolic center of the city. The view from Sparrow Hill was a nice (if smoggy) overview. The aesthetically controversial giant statue of Peter the Great at a ship's wheel (head much smaller proportionately than the body). Then there was the Metro -- absoutely unrivaled as a work of art in itself and must be seen to be believed. Here, you are allowed to take photographs, but still not without that Russian-y feeling that you're doing something wrong and that even if you're not, they will find something wrong and a "fine" or threatened trip to the police station will be forthcoming. Andy took a chance on taking video and was told by a group of scary policemen to stop. In St. Petersburg, you were fined about $4 USD for taking ANY pictures in the Metro. A fine which Andy happily paid after being caught there.

The next few days saw all the greatest hits -- St. Basil's Cathedral, The Kremlin/Armory, Red Square and even a creepy visit to see the preserved body of Lenin enshrined in a dark, cold masoleum with lines of russian military and police in sets of 5 surprising you around each corner eerily standing in silence looking at you as provokingly, challengingly, and antagonizingly as humanly possible without words after every turn. They even shushed Sarah as she wondered out loud why she couldn't see the steps in front of her.


We also tried to get closer to hear Pink Floyd playing a concert in Red Square, but it looked like the going price of around 200 Rubles to the police for access to another barricade might not be so great so we were content to hear 'Dark Side of the Moon' trilling from behind three sets of barricades instead of two.

Moscow turned out to be a wonderful though, seemingly more cosmopolitan (and even more "relaxed"!) than St. Petersburg. The food was another story, but as long as you could get bilinis, you were ok.

We did make it to the Sundoyevsky Baths, though. Which would be our introduction to the unforgettable and unmissable Russian experience of the "Banya:" a series of trips back and forth from withering hot saunas to bracingly cold tubs, and yes, the proverbial wooden bucket. Not to mention the healing (read: exfoliating) power of being flogged with soggy juniper branches.

It was a appropriate preparation before boarding the world's longest train route, the "Trans-Siberian" which stretches from Moscow to Vladivostok -- the length of the world's largest country, or about a fourth of the planet. At Irkutsk, we would change to the "Trans-Mongolian" line which turns South through Mongolia and finally ending in Beijing China. Total time with two or three day stopovers in three places along the way: about 15 days and 10,000 kilometers.


We board at 11pm for the first leg: a solid 4-day stint going through European Russia crossing the Ural Mountains into Central Asia (and thus Siberia) to Irkutsk and the world's deepest and oldest lake, Lake Baikal. We also heard there might be a shower aboard.

50 (fifty) or 15 (fif-teen)

We boarded the bus at noon and appeared to be the only non-russians on board! Most people we thought took the train. It was dark and stifling with heat until the driver turned on the engine. Luckily Andy had scored a last minute cold bottle of water and a couple of yogurts.

The scenery along the way from Helsinki through Porvoo to the border was not very distinctive, yet very green. Lots of trees and a few open spaces. After 3 hours and just before formalities, the driver (thankfully) stopped at a gas station for people to get food. It was hard to figure out (based on asking a few russians), but this stop was either 50 (fifty) or 15 (fif-teen) minutes long. Since we weren't sure, we just closely watched the bus driver as he went through this cafeteria style line. Hot food seemed to indicate 50 minutes. Cold, 15. Turns out he got a little of both so we still had to follow him through the 'meal.' We scarfed down some food and saw at about 12 minutes, unfortunately, the driver got up and put his flat and silverware away. We were enjoying the reindeer meat and salad from the hot buffet, but had to scarf the rest down.

The bus pulled into (what we thought) was the Russian border station. Everyone got off the bus and walked through on foot. The guards were friendly, spoke fluent English and even bantered with Sarah about Canadian Hockey. 'What was this?' we thought. This was so easy. Not nearly what we were expected from the Russian border. It was not long before we realized that we were LEAVING the Finnish border. We still had 10 miles of no man's land to go before crossing into Russia.

The minute we crossed into 'no man's land' the timbre changed dramatically. Rougher roads, bigger, more 'impending-ness' in general, and of course the occasional stripped down vehicle lying on the side of the road.

Truth be told, only after a few histrionics of the female guard being distraught that we didn't know Russian forcing her to have to mark our declaration forms, it was actually surprisingly painless. (Perhaps not for the convict-looking guy in front of us though who was getting totally grilled by patrol). One more once through check of our passports from another Russian guard and there we were on our way to St. Pete.

The signs passing by in Russian allowed Andy to start to try to learn the basics,--deciphering basic Cyrillic -- which would be our world in as we crossed the country over the next 16 days. What was even more different though was the feeling in the air of what I call 'Non.' The strange feeling that you are not supposed to be doing anything. i.e. going anywhere, taking photos, talking to people, etc. Which is hardly the reality -- except for the photo taking part. As Andy found out at the gas station he was filming when all of a sudden on the loud speaker someone said something about not taking pictures here. At the gas station! Yes, we all know what great secrets could be compromised here if anything got out. No, no one should ever know that Russians use gasoline.

It did give us the opportunity to make anomolies of ourselves on the bus however and invited all types of questions from fellow passengers about where we were from and what we were doing. Who are these people that film gas stations? It was good for us because one nice older St. Petersburg woman gave us the low down on the city and how to get around as well as some perceptions of Russian life at the moment. "Everyone loves Putin," she said. "He had over 80% at the poles at the last election." And that most Russians considered, after now fighting a common, more 'terrorist' force, for the United States and Russia to be "Brothers," she said.

The bus dropped us off in a random area of St. Petersburg. We were advised not to walk to our place we had reserved, that it would be too far, but excited to explore, we set out with full packs. We should have taken their advice. It took almost 2 hours to get there, but we did see some amazing scenrery along the way including, of all things, a gorgeous blue-tiled mosque. And we learned a valuable lesson. St. Petersburg is not a walking city. The blocks, while few, are enormous and you could walk for 2 hours easily to cover just a small part of the city. A little too late, the Metro became our friend.

The next few days, we tried to get to know the city. Nevsky Prospect -- where people watching is a nightlife event in itself. An old cemetary where Dostoevsky and Tchicovsky (among others) are buried. A market complete with whole cow heads. A public Banya (Bath) which combines an ungodly hot sauna with a bracing plunge into an ice water or literally pull a cord for the 'treat' of an icy cold bucket of water to be dumped on your head.


Even saw the results of the dangerous St. Petersburg traffic when a white Lada ran into a blue one at an intersection and flipped it over on its top like a matchbox car. While everyone around was stunned, the driver pulled himself out of the window of the upside down car, unharmed enough to argue with the Middle Eastern young driver who had just hit him.

Also, we checked out the Hermitage for a day. The highlight, however had to be when they raise the drawbridges during 'White Nights.' -- which means even at 2am there is enough light in the sky to see your way through the streets and they raise these mammoth bridges (street lamps, cable car tracks and bus cable tops and all) at surreal angles to accomodate larger ships on the Neva river at thinner traffic periods.


After a couple more nights (one of which included playing an electronic slot machine which we never understood but still liked the awful animated graphics of cherries and lemons kissing each other),
we joined an organized group which we were hoping would be a nice break from independent travel for a while as well as help with the numerous rail tickets and transfers it would take to plan out a proper Trans Mongolian rail- trip across Russia, through Mongolia and into China. The next few days would see us getting to know the group, getting our stuff together, and taking in some more sights before we headed to Moscow to begin our journey.

Our first leg (technically before the Trans Mongolian train was to begin) was an overnight train from St. Petersburg to Moscow. Our deep, communist-red train with 'C C C P' emblazoned across the bottom, left a few minutes before midnight and was due to arrive in Moscow at 8am. Oh yeah, they even set out a little plastic breakfast tray which included a descent instant coffee and salami but stale bread an indescribably awful turkey pate.