August in Russia is a busy time for trains – tourists are getting from A to B, Russian kids are still out of school and families are taking their final trips of summer, and students are heading back to Universities across the country. Because of this, our tickets for this stage of our trip have been booked since Ulan Ude where we picked them up on day 279.
Part of the reason for booking so early is that we wanted to a) to get from Tomsk to Vladimir by the last week of August and b) we wanted the bottom bunks in the cabin. Technically, all 4 people in a wagon share the bottom bunk during the day in order to sit and eat and such, but in reality, as a top-bunker we always feel a bit like we’re in someone else’s space. This trip to Vladimir requires 50+ hours in total, and we both agree that having our feet on the floor and a window to look out will smooth things out a bit for us.
Our bunkmates are Nadia and Leonid, a couple of biologists in their late 40s/early 50s who have just finished a few weeks of work in the Altai, a protected region of Russia’s forest in the south. To visit, it’s necessary to have a special permit and a detailed itinerary of where a visitor plans to go/camp, etc. The extra security has something to do with being so close to the Mongolian border. The region sounds lovely, but we won’t be doing it on this trip. The paperwork requirements sound like even more of a hassle than simply getting a Russian visa and periodically registering our visa has turned out to be for us.
Leonid and Nadia are travelling all the way to Moscow, but 1.5 hours past Vladimir, so the four of us spend the bulk of the trip together. We visit a bit, and they share some fresh tomatoes with us. Our days are a cycle of cup-of-soups and sandwiches. Pierre plays guitar, we read books, Nadia works on her laptop in the upper bunk. Every few hours, the train stops for 20 to 30 minutes for a “sanitary break.” These give us a chance to walk around, buy snacks and check out the stations. Only two really stand out for us: the first in the monstrous Novosibirsk train station, where for some reason I get a bad feeling that if we take the time to go in we’ll somehow not make it back onto the train in time and will get left behind. Pierre runs in for a moment while I wait on the platform.
The second memorable station is Perm, only because of its mosquitoes. When we first step out of the train, we don’t really notice the bugs, but as soon as we stop moving they swam us and bite us through our jeans and jackets. Mosquitoes are rarely this intense and thick in cities – the last time either of us remember mosquitoes this bad was back in Canada in the woods on a wet hot summer.
We decide the fresh air isn’t worth donating that much blood for, and we run back inside after just a few minutes. Leonid and Nadia come in not long after us.
“So, how about these mosquitoes?” Leonid asks me.
“Terrible,” I say. “Like dogs. Angry dogs.” He laughs.
On Day 293, Pierre gets up to take a few photos of the early mist and we start a new cycle of reading, napping and walking around.
Our wagon includes several families with small children, and they’re also up early in the morning. The kids spend most of their days on the train running up and down the aisle that runs the length of one side of the wagon, and they weave in and out of the adults standing by the windows for a smoke or a few breaths of fresh air. Throughout the day, they zip back and forth past our open door, playing different games. At one point, their game is to shuffle down the carriage, hands on the railing, feet on the radiators. Later, they march past, stiff-legged with arms stretched out in front of them.
“Zombie. Zombie.” They say as they walk back and forth. They’re still playing on Day 294 when we get off the train in Vladimir at 1:00 pm.
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