The Waiting Game

Day 7 - Another cold night. According to Sam's handbook (sigh), we should be passing Lake Baikal, the world's largest fresh water lake, at about 1am. Lisa sets her alarm clock. I tell her and JD not to bother waking me.
The train is relentless...
View of Lake Baikal (taken from Tim's camera.. we were sound asleep)

We are now approximately +8 hours GMT. The train stops at Nauschii (?? I'll confirm name.... when I get my damn Handbook) for Russian Customs inspection which lasts for 4 hours. The russians as always are extremely, well russian. The front guy explains in perfect english that our passports will be taken away for inspection and held for 2 hours. We hand over our passports (after the officer looks at JD about 3 times) and white immigration card (in many respects, the white card is more important than the passport so don't lose that).

Then a lady officer and an accompanying military officer enters the carriage and proceeds to search each cabin Our provinista (bless her) gives our cabin a quick glance in case the people she put with us in the first place left anything behind. When our turn comes, we are asked to step outside our cabin whilst the soldier searches its compartments (not the hidden ones though) and underneath our mattresses. We can hear soldiers walking on the roof of the train tapping it as they go along.

JD gets cabin madness so we get off the train and walk about the platform. We take a couple of photos but are told not to take any of uniformed personnel.

4 hours later, we get our documents back and the train resumes it journey. Half an hour later, we stop at the Mongolian customs. The same drill applies (I don't know why they bother because everyone knows the good stuff has already been shifted) and we are kept at the stop for a further 3 hours. There is no hot water and everyone is cold and tired.

7.30 am (Moscow time) - the provinista taps on our doors and collects our bedsheets. I look out of the window and see a rather large sprawling city loom ahead of us. As far as we knew we weren't scheduled to arrive at Ulaan Baatar till afternoon. A couple of minutes later, the provinista opens our door, points at the window and says very firm and urgently the words "Ulan Baatar -- 5 minutes". She repeats this again in case we don't get it. A minute later the train pulls into the station. We scramble to get our belongings together (Lisa did hers whilst still in her sleeping bag) and get off the train within its 5-minute stop.
Bridge crossing

At russian customs...
..

Goodbye already?

Day 6 - We make another quick stop at a station at 7.30 in the morning before continuing. The scenery has changed once again with mound-shaped hillocks in the distance this time. We pass some small russian villages with their quaint vegetable patches, nestling amongst winding streams. There is a smattering of crisp white snow on the ground and the morning sun has cast a pretty glow on everything. The train is moving too fast for a decent photo :(

Lisa wakes up to a lovely white coat, purveyed by Ida via a colleague of hers (who specialises in coats apparently). JD points out with a snigger that the coat is the same one he helped move out on day 1.

Ida then informs us that she, along with 4 other groups, will be taking another train going the opposite direction, i.e. back to Moscow. One remaining group will stay on and return to Mongolia as they do not possess the required visas. We hear the familiar sound of scotch tape as they tape up their packages. I'm rather sad to see her go. We take pictures (I think she likes us by now) and even exchange email addies. By 4.30pm Moscow time, most have left the train. Ida's teenage son bunks with us until his stop which is different to his mother's. Lisa (now a loyal customer) buys another coat from him. We chat in between the last few stops where he proffers his wares to customers. A really nice kid and into hip hop (yes, it's amazing how Eminem and 50 Cent can bring cultures together). At one stop, he tells us a russian police asked to see his identification and then proceeded to ask for 300 rubles. As he didn't have the money on him he got a rap on the head in return. We say our goodbyes as he gets off on his stop.

It is now actually 10.30pm Mongolian time (although everyone follows russian time till they reach Ulaan Baatar) as we are now effectively in Mongolia and the time difference is very apparent looking at the changes in daylight. It is pitch dark outside and the carriage is extremely quiet. One by one, the remaining passengers - the tourists - emerge from their cabins now free to roam the aisles. We exchange anecdotes and even discover that the front carriages specialise in hardware and various machinery parts.

I tell Sam about my being pickpocketed and she shows me a page from the Trans Sib handbook (yes, the ******* handbook which I was never given) which states in Mongolian that I require a police report for insurance purposes. Armed with this page, I tackle the on board police and show him this page. A nice local chap who seems to have been the silent man-in-the-shadows throughout the entire journey helps me translate to the policeman. We agree for me to come to the police station at Ulaan Baatar at a specific date in order for me to collect my report.

Topshop on Wheels

Day 5 - Woke up at 7.30 this morning to Mongolian music blaring on the train. The music sounds remarkably similar to traditional chinese music which I haven't heard for a long time. Feeling very happy. We pull into a town called Ishim. From the looks of things, this is a good stop for them. Crowds of russians are already gathering on the platform. There is much animated bargaining, trying on of coats and exchanging of monies, all under the watchful eyes of the ever present authorities. As Ida advises (we also promised) , we take no pictures. 20 minutes later the train jerks to indicate it's starting up and slowly picks up speed to allow our enterprising friends to climb back on.
Station (Tim's pic)

Day 5 (PM) - We have fully embraced our new way of life. Lisa has asked Ida to source a specific coat for her and the couple next door, Tim and Sam have finally relented and allowed the locals to enter their cabin to retrieve some items from the roof. Tim tells us he was accosted by not one but three mongolian women ...apparently the large girl was most persuasive.

Hours meld into the next as we read, talk, play soduku and sleep amidst people constantly jiggling our cabin door handle, trying to get in. The provinista and several passengers are smoking a little hash. We have entered Siberia and it is getting much colder. The view outside is lovely - the landscape is full of silver barked birch trees with bright yellow leaves. We have apparently crossed 5 out of the 11 time zones.

We stop in a town called Nobrolovsky (spelt as such I think.. I have to check once I get my handbook from my travel agent upon my return). I find myself craving for crisps. JD buys me a packet, along with some bananas and oranges from the platform.

We together with Lisa spend the rest of the day talking about the discrepancies contained in our glossy Trans Sib brochures (the words 'kick off your shoes', 'sip vodkha' and 'relax' somehow don't go with 'barracading yourself in cabins, and pot noodles....). We resolve to have a word with our travel agents when we get back.


Buying food from platform

Savoury bun (filled with bits of cabbage ... very tasty)

Economics 101

Day 4 - More stuff makes its way onto the train. We get to know our fellow passenger, Ida (not her real name) who gives us the 101 on the economics of the Trans Mongolian train. We find out that this is the Trans Mongolian train, not the Trans Siberian (both run the same route before one continues to Vladivostock and the other to Beijing.) We will later find out from other tourists that the Trans Siberian is the tourist train whereas the Trans Mongolian is the 'working' train..).
Ida chats to us and through a mixture of russian, mongolian, chinese words and charades, we piece together the dynamics of the system. There is a trilateral capitalistic marriage of sorts between the Chinese, Russian and Mongolian (ahem) organisations where the Mongolians act as the go-between between the estranged pair. For example, the black pvc mens jackets cost 100 rubles from the Chinese, and are sold along the way (by the mongolians) to local russians for 200-300 rubles. Russians retail these at about 500 rubles in Moscow. Everyone knows their place and no one sells above the 'recommended retail price' lest they get yanked by the authorities who'll 'have a word with them'.

After sweet talking us for about an hour or two, Ida moves in her consignment of black jackets and padded coats.

We begin to get used to our surroundings. Several chaps knock on the door (a first) and point at the ceiling. I nod and move to let them unscrew the light panel and remove about fifty rolled up brown jackets and more jeans.

Ida disappears and reemerges several times during the day, sporting various items of fashion, shoes and makeup. We are slowly getting sucked in ... Lisa has enquired about a certain white coat..
Choosing coats for Lisa

Trans Mongolian

I've never been so excited in my life... we're going on the Trans Siberian!! Mum's reminded me to watch out for pickpockets.

Day 3 (PM) - I've been pickpocketed. We're waiting at the train station with about a million other Mongolians on the platform with huge packages and bundles of goods. I get stuck with a crowd of noisy locals all clamouring to get on board the train as it pulls to a stop. When I get on the train, I find to my horror that my slingbag is completely wide open. We push and shove our way through the narrow train aisle which was completely blocked by the Mongolians and parcels, hastily leave our bags in our cabin with an Aussie lady and climb over packages and people out of the train again. Our russian driver is calmly waiting for us on the platform, lighting his cigarette. He gestures us not to bother trying the Mongolian police on the platform, so we run towards the russian police station at the front. We would have missed it if he hadn't indicated - This has got to be the first police station that's completely barricaded from the inside. We press a buzzer and after some words from our driver, the steel doors open. This looks straight out of the movies. We walk down a narrow, dank and dark concrete stairway before coming to a second metal door (you'd think they were trying to keep people out...) before pressing another buzzer to get through a second metal door. We step into a small, smoky concrete bunker no bigger than 4 metres square. Several russian police are standing on the other side of a metal grilled window. The metal door is closed behind us. At this point I am a little stressed as our train is about to pull out in several minutes. I explain to our driver who helpfully translates to the chaps behind the metal cage that I need a police report for insurance purposes. He even calls our travel agent on his mobile (as his english is very limited) who tells me that a report would take some time (ahem!). We got the hint anyway, looking at the faces and the shrugs the russian policemen kept on giving. So we run back out and back to the train just in time with our driver's words "bon voyage" ringing in the background.

Once on the train, we cancel our cards. Btw, +44 does NOT work. You need to dial 810 44... in order to call internationally. We finally introduce ourselves to the nice Aussie lady, Lisa, who had kept an eye on our belongings. The Mongolians are extremely rough and rude. There is a lot of activity moving bundles and bundles of stuff down the train. We close the cabin door and examine our surroundings. There are a few hundred pairs of jeans, padded coats and a pair of legs (sporting a rather fetching pair of jeans) in various compartments. Several Mongolian ladies come in and start moving the stuff out. JD gamely helps them. Lisa and I refuse to take part in what appears to be less-than-lawful activity. Having emptied the cabin of its visible contents, we close the door and heave a sigh of relief.

The cabin is small, consisting of 4 berths - 2 up, 2 down. Each berth is equipped with an inch thick mattress, woollen banket, pillow and a sealed plastic packet containing clean sheets and a pillow case. (The pillow case only fits half the length of the pillow -- I think we get the other half in Mongolia ;P)
The Case of the Half-pillow...
Aisle of train (pic from Tim's camera)
12.30 am - we make an unscheduled stop in the dead of night. No one got off the train but a few hundred pairs of jeans and coats got on.
Night stop

We unpack our essentials and settle in. The Mongolians keep on opening our cabin door, so we lock it. However the provinista has the key and as we later discovered, so did most passengers. I've taken a picture of the lock so should you be insane enough to take this trip, bring an allan key along. I take out my metal teapot and hang it on the door handle so that it would clang if someone came in. JD and Lisa laugh at me for being paranoid.
Lock.. what lock?

Just as we were congratulating ourselves on the good fortune of having the cabin to ourselves, the provinista opens our door and several mongolians start to haul bundles into our cabin. Lisa and I were having none of it - we didn't know what the packages contained and certainly didn't fancy having them in our possession if the russian customs paid a visit. I protested vehemently and tried to pull a bag from the top berth. The Mongolian chap responded violently slapping the bag back onto the berth before I could remove it. JD, whom at that point was a lot less pissed off than I was (well, he wasn't robbed..) and thus more aware of how menacing the guy had become quietly advised me to stop before things got ugly. It was all very hairy. However, I think my barking may have achieved something as they decided to move the packages elsewhere.
Then our thoughts turned to whom would be spending the night with us in the fourth berth. I really didn't fancy the big chap and certainly the violent one would have ended in a face off sooner or later. It turned out a mongolian lady bunked with us that night and for the rest of the journey. That night, the teapot stayed on the door handle.
Our train!
View of back of train (Tim's pic)
View of front of train(Tim's pic)

Lovely Sam - she does a spot-on impression of the locals taping up boxes of goods!
Booty
Modelled jeans

Views from train...





Towards Mongolia (Tim's pics)