The journey from Moscow to Almaty takes four days. Considering that includes crossing Russia completely and then the length of a country the size of westrn europe, it isn't at all lengthy.
Our home for the next four days was to be a brown cabin. First class here means a cabin for two people, complete with a sheet and blanket, a mirror, two lights (one held together with parcel tape) and, most importantly, a lock on the door. Unlike the Warsaw to Moscow train, there was no sink and the carriage toilet (shared with the ten other cabins) was a stainless steel box with a hole in the floor and an Asian toilet (the low kind with foot grips where the seat would be- assumed position is a flat footed squat on the seat) the tiny sink had no tap at first glance. The bathroom is perfumed with eau de sewage from day one and the basin proved to be beyond my technical competence. The train guard helped me out and indicated a sort of milking motion to extract water from the tap.
Usually, the train also contains a restaurant car but it happened to be undergoing restoration so there was to be no food available. Thankfully Charlie and I had thought ahead and bought a feast for our cabin. Bread and proper food is reasonably expensive but a litre of vodka is less than 5 pounds so it appeared we would be subsisting on that instead of a usual 5 a day. Moscow is the only place I've been to where a relatively fast food meal costs 12 pounds. A small cup of coffee is 5 pounds.. at these prices is easier to understand alcoholism.
Our first day on the train was tricky, the train guard spoke Kazakhstani as opposed to Russian and although they share many words they're not pronounced the same. He seemed not to be able to make head nor tail of us, the only two travellers in the cabin. There may have been more foreigners down the train, second class means sharing with 5 others and no lock, 3rd is an open plan barracks for 46 people so much respect to them if they choose to sleep there!
The language barrier was really starting to perturb me. Even to ask for toilet paper (rarely any left) or why the toilet was permanently locked (to avoid stowaways I assume) was incredibly frustrating so it was with genuine pleasure that I made a new friend. The whole of first class had one English speaker! Anatoly, a professor of law at the university in Almaty, our subsequent saviour for the entire trip. We seemed to stop an inordinately high number of times to pass through customs or to have our passports checked and he took pity on us so made himself our translator and general entertainer for the rest of the trip. He explained that the guard had never come across English travellers who had nothing to do with kazakhstan aboard the train. WE were a complete novelty and he kept insinuating that he thought we were using our cover as student travellers to mask our true secret agent identities. Regaling us with baffling stories about americans who used to hide their laptops (evidently spies) and Brits "posing as professor in history" who kept having cryptic phone conferences. Whether he's being suspicious or if there's an element of truth in it will be a mystery forever.
He took pity on our feast of biscuits and fruit and offered to "share his special smoked sausage" with us. I tried to mask my inherent immaturity by not sniggering when he proudly introduced his sausage which actually turned out to be a lightly peppered salami and not anything usually considered more puerile. After our meal of sausage, vodka and apple juice we stopped at yet another customs check. Anatoly insisted we drink our vodka in one gulp from bowls pilfered from the guards' kitchen (Anatoly's work, not ours) and after three toasts to new friends we'd already finished most of the bottle so the customs were more fun than they might have been.
The next toast was to Anatoly's "new english heroes" and anytime we try to sip our drink he roars with laughter, urging us to just down it as it cleanses the body. It's actually surprisingly smooth and the juice renders it childishly palatable. After six of these I was ready for sleep but for Anatoly it signalled our true friendship and therefore the beginning of and exchange of political ideas. We discussed the discrepancies between teh UK's media coverage of Georgia vs Russia and what he claimed to be the truth. We spoke of America, of Iraq, of democracy. He is staunchly pro-Russia but concedes that he has been formed from years of conditioning.
We move onto other journeys we could make in Russia: the Krasnoyarsk to Dudinka boat along the Yenisey sounds beautiful, the Arkangelsk to Moscow to Astrakan boat along te Volga- filled with churches to see sounds romantic and filled with the names of Russian fables. Then he suggested Lake Baikal for a cruise, which is as the deepest freshwater lake sounds like a promising experience.
Torwards 1:30am, full of vodka, smoked sausage and dreams of faraway towns, we stopped for yet another border crossing. This part of teh route weaves in and out of the borders, or rather, teh borders snake across the railway. with Anatoly on our side, the officials seem a lot less scary, they simply want to check we're not smugglers or spies. A simple request...
Once the customs people were satisfied with their search, we snatched a few hours sleep, sound in teh knowledge that we now knew how to lock the door properly (thanks to veteran train traveller Anatoly). Reinforced with an extra lock from him- he explained, not unkindly, that we were more likely victims of theft than he would be. With friends like him to talk with, these four days were looking more promising.
