Life on the train

   Train travel has been said to be the most humane way to travel: You have your own bed, place to eat, restaurant if you wish, toilet, people to engage with and the time to reflect on the distance you are covering, plus the chance to see it out the window, slowly making your way west, changing the time by one or two hours when you cross time zones. We have spent many days on trains since we left home, are getting quite used to it, and have adapted quite well to it. We have our routine, favourite bunks, favourite meals, and favourite travel clothing, amongst many other things.

   There is also, along the way, moments of joy, pain, sadness and anticipation. The joy, for instance, of meeting other people. So far in Russia, the people we have met have been locals, moving home from work or to a job, going to see friends or family, or any other reason. The ones we have been lucky to meet have been Vladimir and his coworker Alexey, Dima, Anatoli and Irene and not to forget Yarolslav (who we didn't meet on the train but was incredibly helpful and generous to us in helping us cross lake Baikal and inviting us to his house in Moscow, and showing us an incredible time both on the lake and in his home).

   The pain we have felt has been in being sick while on board, or awkward situations with grumpy babushkas, or local rhinos, awful sleep or just smashing my head constantly on the upper bunk (I haven't adapted to having short hair yet, I had a curly buffer zone between my head and objects for so long). Nothing too painful to note really, but it is worth mentioning.

   Sadness comes in departing the new friends we have met along the road. It's hard to explain but on the train (or just in travel in general) the friendships are short lived but often intense as the communication is never easy. Sometimes you have to get really creative to get a message through. One such moment that sticks out for me was when a man (who spoke only russian) was, after learning that I was a teacher, disappointing when I didn't know a specific author. After explaining to him that I was a math teacher, the lady opposite me tried to communicate by giving me a formula to factor. After doing the problem, she made a gesture and, what I assume, explained to the guy that I may not know literature but I do speak the language of math which is international. She was also a math teacher, we got along well. 

   You also share a very small living space with these people. It's like going from meeting someone on the street to being their prison mate in moments. You eat with them, sleep next to them, smell them, hear everything and get in their way and them in yours. Sometimes you just tolerate them, but when the friendship develops, it is hard to see them go after the few hours you spend with them.

   The anticipation comes just before you arrive to the train, the anticipation to move, to travel and sometimes, just to arrive.