Not just the destination

I clock two soldiers through half opened sleepy eyes; I hadn’t heard them enter my 3.5mx3.5m residence during the night. Expressionless stares match grey standard issue tunics, but I’m busted! They notice movement and take action. Curtains are flung open and through the window I see the fertile steppe fly by. Luminous rolling grassland and cultivated pastures punctuated with occasional herds of saygak (antelopes), bathed in the milky morning summer light, are not what I expected of Siberia.
My kupe, a small, functional 4 berth sleeper compartment, for the 2 day train journey from Yekaterinburg to Irkutsk on the Transsib was perfect for making new friends. Sweets bribed Boris and Yuri to smile. It is worth learning a few Russian words, I didn’t, but the phrasebook was helping the broken conversation on from beer and football. “I love Chelsea!” Boris and Yuri enthused, but it emerged they were returning home “dohm!” from a recent posting. Maybe it was pronunciation but “holiday” was met with quizzical looks; the train is for going places.
At stations, from grand Stalinist Gothics to modernist cement blocks, commotion ensues as the provodnistas (carriage attendants) hustle to collect bedding and check tickets while passengers fight past babushkas whose multicoloured headscarves dance like fireflies on a dark night. Step onto solid land, stretch and weave into the mass of temporary market stalls that pop up for each train.
After our next stop my cabin mates return with local delicacies and generously repay me for my sweets. Dried fish and crisps made from mushrooms are spread onto the kupe’s stowaway table complete with Russian Railways embossed vase and plastic flower. We toast home coming with celebratory vodka.
As the rhythm of the tracks provides a hypnotic backdrop I reflect on my good fortune in being able to sit back and relish the journey not merely, like Boris and Yuri, be excited about the destination.