Train #6, trans-mongolian express
somewhere between uland ude and ulaan baatar
sunday jan 23, 2011 according to the mac
u never really know what time it is because there are constant time changes, but the trains run on moscow time, whatever
The faces around us have changed. We are really in asia. We got back on the trans-mongolian express at Irkusk after a 2:50am wake up call for the 3:30am taxi to catch the 5:18am train. When we got onto the train the provodnista had to kick a mongolian couple out of our couche. They had tons of boxes, bags and miscellaneous items. They were half asleep so the move took half an hour while we twiddled our thumbs in the narrow corridor. Then the provodnitsa did a cursory cleaning job and handed us our linen. Crashing=bliss. The next morning the guy who we displaced the night before returned and without a word used a special wrench to open up the ceiling hatch in OUR compartment and pulled down a brown plastic bag which smelled suspiciously like a huge wad of cash. We ignored him. An hour later he returned to re-stock our upper shelf with boxes of Russian glassware, etc. Hours afterward, Russian and mongolian customs inspectors searched our compartment at their respective borders. Although we were clearly harboring twenty boxes of glasses, and several mattresses, and canisters of tea, this only provoked a slight chuckle from the folks with the flashlights and dogs.
It gradually became clear that the train was filled with Mongolian traders. No tourists. At all hours, people just came into our compartment to take a look at us, sometimes to sit down and have a look around. They opened our closed door with impunity. Boxes of goods were shuttled all night from one end of the train to another. The sound of packages being taped and untaped was a constant soundtrack. Every sleeping compartment was filled with product. At one stop near the russian/mongolian border most of the train hopped out and a frenzied half hour flea market ensued. It was not possible to figure out who was buying and who was selling. Passengers pulled out traveling half mannequins draped with sweaters. Others walked around selling fur coats, sheepskin boots of all types, toiletries, bathrobes, bras, smoked fish. Mongolian and russian police took turns admonishing, laughing, kicking boxes and probably collecting their cut.
Before returning to the wonder that is the trans mongolian express we spent a couple of days near lake baikal. We had an epic half day dog sled trip on a sunny and balmy -25 celcius day (Natalia commented that it was a particularly warm winter). I was in charge of a sled with nine dogs with Ben was sitting in front of me. There is no way of describing all that dog power racing through the woods and the delicate balancing and steering act that keeps everything together. I also won't mention how quickly my sled overturned as we started out. In fairness, the lesson was in russian and lasted for for about seven seconds. Eventually clare's feet turned into blocks of ice and she and I cut the afternoon short with a snowmobile ride back to the hearth. Benjamin and jill had dumpling soup over a fire in the woods.
Later that day in Listvayanska we had a family banya with birch branch beatings and all. At dinner we celebrated in traditional fashion with a russian family who were marking the baptism of their baby into the orthodox church.
