Tripitaka Perusals: 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.