Yekaterinberg - Omsk
 |
| 530 miles approx |
Yekaterinberg, in the Ural Mountains, is the first major
town in Asian Russia and just short of the official start of Siberia. Steeped
in sinister history, in was founded in 1723 by Peter the Great to exploit the
region’s mineral riches. This region is where the Bolsheviks murdered Tsar
Nicholas II and his family during the Russian Revolution in 1918. The town
was then renamed Sverdlov after Lenin’s right-hand man. Closed until the 1990’s
due to its many defence plants, the area suffered economic depression and Mafia
lawlessness and not least the unfortunate honour of having Boris Yeltsin as
its most famous son.
I woke at around 9 am Moscow time. I got dressed and went to
check out the samovar. It’s a little piece of civilised genius. The carriage
smells like a coal fire as the samovar and internal heating are powered by coal
which is the responsibility of the Provodnik, of which there is one in each
carriage. I returned to my room and had a breakfast of green tea, red
grapefruit, a pastry and some orange juice whilst looking out at the most
glorious of winter days.
I have the end
compartment then there is a Norwegian couple, followed by an Australian couple
then a guy from Birmingham. There’s a rumour that there is a Swedish couple
here too, but I’ve not seen them. Then there is the Chinese Provodnik who is accomplished at hacking and gobbing.
Each stop is a communal affair. Depending on the time of day we either gather excitedly in the corridor to look at some shabby buildings or we disembark and buy some snacks/drinks and get some much needed fresh air. The stops entail re-stocking with coal and water and also provide an opportunity for the Provodniks to hack ice from under the train.
The last stop of the day was Perm, which was the inspiration for the town in which Chekov placed the Three Sisters and the town in which Boris Pasternak sent Dr Zhivago. Huge military plants were moved here during WWII when the town was called Molotov after the Soviet minister of Molotov cocktail fame. There is also a memorial in the form of a preserved Gulag camp, Perm-36.
My neighbours informed me that there was cheap beer on sale
in the restaurant car, so I decided to investigate. It’s at the other end of
the train and so you have to walk through the alarmingly snowy and icy sections
that join the carriages.
The restaurant car looked like the kind of place you
wouldn’t take anyone that didn’t have a heroin habit and some contraband to
shift.
I have never seen so much plastic, chintz and decades old patina in one
place before. It reminded me of Luton. There were two filthy looking Russian
men; one had rotten teeth and the other had one bogging eye. Both were dressed
like comedy villains from a bad seventies cop show. I asked Rotten Teeth Man
for enough Baltika beer and Lake Baikal bottled water to last the whole week
and paid. He was really lovely and we joked about something, I’m not sure what.
There was no chance in holy hell that I was going to go back there. Ever.
I decided that I would change my clocks to China time to get
used to it over the next week. I am, relatively speaking, attempting to go to
bed at 3pm UK time and get up at midnight. Being bi-temporal caused endless
confusion when we stopped anywhere as all of the stations run on ‘narcissistic
Moscow’ time, my Norwegian neighbours were running on local time and I was on
China time. Also we are travelling through three countries, two continents and
seven time zones. We are, if you like, travelling through space and time. In
your FACE, Doctor! It’s all a little discombobulating, to say the least,
although it doesn’t really make any difference. It’s not as if we have to be
anywhere.
