Wednesday 25 April
Reg wheels my
suitcase along the corridor of the train, then returns for his
rucksack. I follow him with the small backpacks and huge carrier bag
of food. My new purple Berghaus rucksack is the most comfortable in
the world (thanks again Elaine and your friend Kate and Reg of
course).
Our
private compartment is basic, but comfortable. We're travelling 1st
class, but I'd say 2nd
class on the Polish trains is superior to this – on that train we
had our own washing facilities in the cabin, (even though they were
hidden under a table and we didn't find them until we were leaving
the train, but that's by the by). On this train there are 2 beds,
which double as seats, already spread with a blanket each. No sign
of any sheets or pillowcases, so we take our own small pillows and
single duvet covers (to use as sheet sleeping bags) out of our
luggage, and have just laid them on the beds when the female guard
(there's a guard for each train carriage) arrives with crisp white
sheets and pillowcases. We're impressed. Also there's plenty of
storage for our luggage above the beds, and room for my large
suitcase under the seats. There's a small table between the beds;
and as soon as we leave the station, the pleasant guard brings us 2
glasses in the familiar silver holders. They are empty, but there's
boiling water on tap as promised by the young woman traveller I met
in the laundry room at the Godzilla hostel.
It's cool but not
cold; the window is openable at the top, which is nice. Now a trip to
the end of the corridor to perform the usual acid test, ie inspect
the state of the toilet and availability of water for having a wash
(we already knew we had to bring our own bottled water for drinking).
The toilet nearest
to our end of the corridor is out of order.. The one at the other
end is small, has the usual “long drop” as George describes it,
ie the toilet flushes onto the railway track – and is fairly clean,
if somewhat smelly. A trickle of water, enough to wash hands or wet
a flannel, emerges from the one cold tap when it's pumped. Was it to
prepare me for this non-washing train journey that I went, a good few
years ago now, as youth worker on all those MAYC (Methodist
Association Of Youth Clubs) weekends away,, sleeping on hall floors
surrounded by young people, and having the merest lick and promise
of a wash in the washbasins of church premises? I guess that was
marginally easier as there was at least hot water on tap. Well, I
knew I wouldn't be able to wash my hair on this trip! I'm glad I had
a shower and hair wash at the hostel before we left.
Our compartment
door is lockable. Reg and I soon settle down within our crisp white
sheets; I change into my nightclothes for comfort. Both of us have
a really good night's sleep, surprisingly (perhaps it's the gentle
rocking movement of the train). By morning, we're aware that the
weather's definitely getting warmer. I get dressed, and we have a
welcome cuppa. Soon a man comes around selling doughnuts (of a
sort). They're a bit greasy, but swallowed down with a cup of tea
and a banana to follow, they're an adequate breakfast.
On my way to the
loo I get talking to a woman called Monica, about my age, from
Switzerland. She and her husband are also following the “Silk
Road” railway. She speaks French, German, Italian and English. She
seems really nice.
Reg gets talking
to 2 young Russian men in the next compartment to us, both of whom
speak good English. They are going to Tashkent to inspect the Aral
Sea, near Khiva, with a view to making a film there! You meet
fascinating people on trains.
We have
cup-a-soups for lunch, with bread and butter (had to buy a knife,
fork and spoon set from a department store in Moscow yesterday, as I
omitted to bring these on our trip). I really like my mushroom soup,
but Reg isn't so sure about his noodle variety.
During the late
afternoon, the train stops for an hour at a station, and locals are
peddling their wares, including foodstuffs. Reg is pleased to buy 2
hard-boiled eggs, which he's going to have for breakfast tomorrow.
The temperature is rising all the time and it's a real relief to have
a walk around on the platform, where the air is cooler. I've already
changed from my long-sleeved top into a t-shirt. While strolling on
the platform I get talking to a mother and her grown-up daughter from
Tashkent. The daughter speaks enough English to tell me that the
temperature in Tashkent is 35 deg c. Wow! Hotter than we thought.
Thanks Sylvia for your thoughtfulness in giving me an emergency
travel sized “things you might need” kit, including factor 50
suncream.
We've so far
managed to keep our food cool in an air draught, and have our
sandwiches, with crisps, for tea. The daughter from Tashkent brings
us some little cakes, which turn out to be mini profiteroles. It's a
lovely gesture. We could offer them a couple of Aldi gingernuts
tomorrow, though there aren't many left.
Surprisingly,
the day has passed really quickly. I've nearly finished my kindle
book, The Sealed Letter
(it's brilliant). I've done some studying, and written this in Open
Office, to cut and paste into my blog later.
Being on a train for an extended period of time has its advantages –
no meetings to attend, no clock watching, no stress. It's relaxing
in that you're in your own little bubble, away from the real world in
a way. You're able to send and receive the odd text, when there's a
signal, to keep in touch with the outside world – but you're not
somehow part of it.
And now it's dark and will soon be time to bed down for the night again..
The scenery today has been lots of forest, interspersed with country
villages, with some of the houses in dire need of repair. Nearly all
properties, apart from concrete blocks of flats in the town areas,
have corrugated iron roofs. There's much evidence of agriculture
being a way of life in the greater part of the region we've passed
through. In some areas, there's lots of litter everywhere. As
darkness falls there are large areas of scrubland – we're starting
to pass through regions with higher temperatures and drier weather.
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