I didn't sleep very well last night. At some point in the darkness, my inclination shifted against staying another day. Although, I still thought I would look into it. Money is the major reason. I don't really have enough to stay more than one extra day, and I can't risk not being able to get a train tomorrow.
I set the alarm for 6, but didn't succeed in tearing myself from the bed til 6:30. Then I decided to wash my hair. That put a rush on things. My pack was completely empty. I had to reload it from scratch. It was 7:10 by the time I got out of the room. The floor woman saw me leaving, and decided to check the room. She indicated I was to wait for her in the stairway. I waited a couple of minutes, didn't see the point of the exercise, and bolted.
It's a good thing I did. I stopped at the bus stop, but couldn't tell which buses were going by the station. I could just imagine being whisked deep into the suburbs. So I started hoofing it, through the rain. Just like the first day I was here, there were lakes in the roads and on the sidewalks that required big detours. Keep pushing was the only thought going through my mind. I trudged along, wet from the knees down, carrying a 35 pound pack, a heavier heart, covered by my trusty, if not completely effective, red pancho.
I got to the station and hoping I could find the right platform quickly. I went to the first train I came to, and it was the right one. I no more than took my pack off and sat down when it pulled out. My shirt was wet, not from the rain, but sweat. More than the discomfort, I regretted not being able to stay longer. I was torn between wanting to stay, and knowing I had to get going. My eyes were watery as I left the station, and once again settled into the rail routine. I was sad all day. I'm not wired for such encounters.
All of these train journeys start the same way, with new cell mates cautiously eyeing each other from across the compartment. Eventually, someone says something, and the conversation starts. I'm fortunate once again, that one of companions speaks reasonable English. His name is Alexander, he's a communications engineer, probably in his mid 40's. He's traveling with his 19 yr. old son, Alexsey, for a vacation with the grandparents, someplace 2 days away.
The other seat was taken for a few hours by another Sergei, this one a construction supervisor, 25 years old, with a wife, 2 kids, and a bottle of vodka. He started to ply me with it almost immediately. (Vodka before 8:30) I did my best to resist, but he was insistent. Of course, after the first glass the others are much easier. They really do drink that stuff like water. I was able to limit the damage by insisting on very small servings.
Sergei conceived a like for someone I'd already put my eye on, Lyuba, one of our carriage attendants. She's tall, almost skinny, with long brown hair and big, beautiful eyes. Fortunately, Sergei was with us for only a short while, and he introduced me to her. I don't know what he said but I think he indicated we should get matched up.
Later in they day, with vodka still in my system. I gave her a $10 bill. Alexander translated for me. I said, "Since Alexander Hamilton and I are both named Alex, this is to keep you from forgetting me." She speaks very little English, but did say "Can I kiss your face?" I don't know if she was serious or not, but I hope she was.
The day passed quickly. I had pains of regret through out the day, especially around 1, when Larissa would have been looking for me. I so hate to disappoint people like that. What to do?
Sergei's spot was taken by Sergei3, a pleasant guy involved with computers in some way or another. He looked the part. We really didn't talk, I just got things second hand, from Alexander.
This is the second time I've been overseas on Independence Day. This day should be a memorable one too. As with the other one, the greatest part of my energy was spent romancing. A language barrier made this effort more difficult than the other, especially for the girls. I feel guilty not being able to reciprocate their efforts.
First, I want to go into what determines the atmosphere on a car; namely, the number of children, their ages, and dispositions. Locking a group of pre-teen kids up in such a small place for several days is asking for trouble. The ones on this car were particularly rowdy today. For most of the day they had empty, plastic 1.5 liter drink bottles that they went around bashing each other with. The parents didn't seem to mind, just so they were out of the compartment, causing other people problems. The parents took some notice and broke things up a bit after the conflict escalated to blowing mouthfulls of water on each other.
On the other hand, you can walk through some cars and there's no one to be seen or heard. I prefer the action, but moderation is a good thing too.
My main worry these past two days has been money. I had plenty of dollars, but came on the train with only 13,000R ($6). No one on the train had any notion of changing money, and at two different stops I ran all over the stations asking if anyone could change. Even though these weren't small places, I was out of luck. Then, on my third try, I got lucky. A kiosk on the platform had a $10 bill posted in their window. I asked if they changed, they did, and I changed $25. The man wouldn't accept older bills, even though they were in very good condition. People get strange ideas about what is good money and what isn't.
It reminded of the questions my trader friends on the train from Vladivostok to Kharbarosk had asked. They wanted to know if the U. S. was about to change its money, making all the current invalid. The rumor has caused some panic in certain circles. It may sound strange, but that's exactly what happened a few years ago when the Russians changed their currency. The government announced you had 3 days to get the new money, and that was it.
I wanted to get a bottle of champagne to celebrate the holiday. I went to the restaurant car. The marked price was 11,000R, ($5.50). From me, they wanted $8. I said no, and left. I went back an hour later, and they took $6.
I waited til afternoon for the uncorking. I wanted to avoid joining the Russian habit of drinking around the clock. The cork was eager to leave the bottle, for as soon as I took the off the wire, it fired, slamming into the overhead. Only luck had it pointing in a safe direction.
I raised a glass and said, "218 years ago today my forefathers signed a paper giving us our freedom, and hope to the rest of the world. May Russia soon join us in those rights which include life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness." Alexander translated to his son and Lyuba. Then he went out to watch for the officials as I talked to Lyuba. She has a sister and a brother, and has studied 3 years at technical school to be a chemistry and biology teacher. She says her sister is beautiful, 28, and unmarried. She said there are no good boys in their town, so I offered to pass on her sister's address to a friend. Lyuba's is of course, mine.
Alexander and Alexsey left. Now it's just me and a 21 year old army sergeant in the compartment. He says he flies helicopters.
For most of the day, I was practicing smiling at a cute blond in the car. I had noticed her yesterday, but was unable to make contact. I was feeling more determined. At first she ignored me. Later in the day she started looking. Finally, she smiled back. That gave me the cue to mutter that all important phrase, "Vi gavarite pa anglisky?"
"Mala," She said.
I assume that meant poorly, or very little. We left it at that for a while, sitting in the passageway watching the kids bash each other. Then I said something more, and the conversation took off. Or as much as it could. It was mostly simple questions, followed by long periods of silence, while we each though of something that would be in our mutual language capabilities. Somehow it came out that she liked champagne, so I went to get another bottle.
We settled into her compartment, which is an end one, designed for the carriage attendants, and only contains 2 berths. I invited her roommate, a none-too attractive girl from Moscow, to join us. Regrettably, she did. The girl supposedly knows English, but didn't say a word, or act interested in anything. Lena and I kept talking, passing the dictionary back and forth, trying to find worthwhile things to comment on. She lives with her parents in an apartment in Ekaterinburg. She was visiting relatives near Irkutsk. Even though she didn't know much English, it was fun trying to talk with her. When she didn't know a word
I was up earlier than Pavel, my latest roommate, so I went outside to write. Sitting there, a Russian guy in another compartment, who could speak 3-4 words of English, insisted I come to his compartment. His name was Stas, he's 30, and a Russian Air force pilot; I think helicopter. His friend Jena, 34, claims to be a MIG-29 type. We started on a breakfast of bread, fish spread, and tea. Before I knew it, the tea had turned to vodka, and the results were, well, typically predictable.
I tore myself away before it got too bad to say good-bye to Lena, and to take her picture when she detrained at Ekaterinburg. She didn't seem to care for my new friends, nor did they like her. She seems a little unapproachable, but not without humor. I don't think that's a bad thing in a woman. The guys think I should concentrate on Lyuba, taking her back with me and having babies. Not a bad idea really.
It was pouring rain outside, and Vodka inside as we passed the obelisk marking the transition to Europe. We invited Lyuba and Natasha, the other attendant, to lunch. The guys were talking to Lyuba in Russian. I wonder what they were telling her. After eating, everyone evacuated the compartment except Lyuba and me, as if we were to take advantage of that. I felt like the couple led to the bedchamber after wedding, with the revelers waiting outside for us to consummate the union. We talked until Lyuba had to go back to work. I gladly went to sleep.
This afternoon I found that, sometime today, someone took $50 from the bag I had stupidly left out. I really wasn't bothered, I deserved it. You don't leave things in the open. It's too much of a temptation.
Tonight, after Lyuba got off work, I convinced her to come to the restaurant car with me for dinner. My eyes bulged and heart pounded when I saw how she was dressed. She was wearing a short black skirt and green poka-dot blouse. The very image of tantalizing wholesomeness. There was a faint aroma of perfume about her, and I wanted to grab her.
I resisted. We sat across from each other, mostly just smiling. We had already covered most of what our basic language abilities would allow. It was a pleasure just looking into her big brown eyes. I let her order. We had "salad" (tomatoes and cucumbers), plemenni, and champagne.
We were mostly finished when the occasion came to an abrupt halt. The brigadier (conductor), an unattractive woman, probably in her late 30's walked through the car. She started speaking harshly to Lyuba, obviously admonishing her for being there. I can't imagine what for, Lyuba was off duty. I felt helpless, unable to know even what was being said. Lyuba became visually upset and I believe embarrassed. I talked to my Russian friends, they talked to her, and assured me everything was all right.
No matter what excuse the woman used, I'm sure jealousy was the real motivation. I think the brigadier was envious of her beautiful young underling and probably felt she was trying to rise above her station.
Ten years ago today, I was inducted into the Naval Academy. How could it have been that long?
Nothing special happened today. It's cold and sometimes rainy.
The first thing I did this morning was apologize to Lyuba for last night. I felt a bit guilty. I didn't even have my apology out before she was apologizing herself. We stood together in the passageway for awhile. She's cute and I think sweet. I wish I could talk to her more.
I had much time to think last night. I didn't get much sleep. The time thing finally caught up with me. I hadn't been moving my watch for the past couple of time zones, and it was reading 3:00 am with train time (Moscow time) at 12:00 am. No matter what the exact time, it was past midnight and light was still on the horizon. To make matters worse, Stas wouldn't leave the compartment. Even though I was racked out, and claiming not to feel well, he was trying to get me to drink vodka.
When he finally left, and the lights went out, my new mates- Yuri and Mikael, decided they wanted to talk. Mikael had a deep, booming voice you couldn't ignore. Then he decided to get up, it was about 6. He was knocking about making a commotion. When I surrendered and got up too, he went back to bed.
I wish I had some presents for the kids. They discovered me last night, and amuse themselves with trying to talk with me. One of them, Jena, is particularly friendly and happy. He can't understand how I can say a few phrases like "What's your name?" and "How old are you?" yet not understand what he's saying. He kept talking to me, saying the same things over and over, hoping that I would suddenly know how to speak Russian. There was another child who couldn't have been one year old. Everytime I looked at him he was laughing and flirting. I would have like to just pick him up and give him a hug.
I spent this day, as most others, reading and writing till I got tired. Then I would take a nap. It is glorious not having anything you really have to do.
There was an air of expectation in the car as we neared Moscow. By the time we reached the suburbs, people had been standing in the passageway for an hour. Natasha and Lyuba had been busy for hours cleaning the compartment, taking up the bedding and remaking the top bunks. Soon new passengers would embark for the return trip.
We pulled into the station, I said good-bye to my friends and home of four days, and stepped once again into the unknown.
Next: Moscow, St. Petersburg