Friday night & Saturday – 4 &
5 May
As we wait on the
platform for the night train to Urganch, the longest goods train I've
ever seen passes through the station, carrying timber and who knows
what in the closed metal carriages. Trains in themselves don't
interest me, but this one goes on and on and on, carriage after
carriage. Reg says there were 3 engines at the front of the train,
to give sufficient power to pull it.
Finally our train
comes and we're glad to get on. It's 11.15 pm. The carriage floor
on these trains is always about 6 feet (nearly 2 metres) above the
platform, and is reached by several steep metal steps. We do our
usual thing – Reg lifts my astronomically heavy suitcase up the
steps (sometimes a kind person gives a hand, but not tonight). Then
we get the rest of the luggage on the train. Reg goes off to find
our compartment/cabin, trundling the huge suitcase in front of him
along the narrow corridor, while I wait in the boarding area, away
from the door, with the rest of the luggage. Then Reg returns and we
together take the rest of the luggage to our compartment.
The cabin looks
slightly more modern than on the previous train, when we had our
worst experience yet of a night train. This time we're nowhere near
the toilet, which, while it has its drawbacks in the middle of the
night, means there's no stench of stale urine. Unfortunately there's
not a lot of room to put our big suitcase on this train, but it's not
a problem when there's only 2 of us in the cabin. It should be fun
when we get to go on the night trains in China, where there's no
first class (of course) only soft sleepers and 4 to a cabin – I
hope there'll be room for my suitcase.
We wait for what
usually happens next – the carriage guard (the train guard who
looks after our carriage) passes us 2 plastic bags, each containing
starched white bedding – 2 sheets and 2 pillow cases. We set to
making up our beds for the night. The train's moving now so I decide
to go to the toilet before settling down to sleep. Reg is already in
bed with his eyes closed. I leave the light on and shut the cabin
door. Once the door is shut, for privacy you can't see inside the
cabin.
As I return from
the toilet, I realise that I forgot to note our cabin number. I know
we were about a quarter of the way down the long carriage, but with
panic I realise I don't know which is our compartment. All the
compartment doors are shut and the carriage guard is nowhere to be
seen – besides I feel too stupid to tell him I can't remember where
my cabin is!! I call
“Reg! Reg!”
softly, but there's no reply. He's probably asleep already. I can't
even tell which compartments still have a light on, as the doors shut
tightly. Panic rises, but I realise that if I don't want to spend
the night in the corridor, I have to take a guess. People can lock
their door from the inside – I hope everyone (except us of course)
has locked their cabin door.
I gingerly open by a few inches the door I think might be ours. A
big middle-aged man, who appears to be practically naked, is looking
at his laptop. He lifts his eyes towards me. I mumble, “So
sorry, sorry” and click shut the door before he can say
anything. I'm hot and sweaty now. Gathering courage, I open the
next carriage door. The light's on, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
There's Reg, lying on his bed. He may have been asleep but I shake
him gently and try, through uncontrollable laughter, to tell him
what happened.
“You twot,”
he says, unsurprised at my
nocturnal antics. We both settle down for the night and I make a
mental note to never, ever forget my cabin number again.
Our
night train journey is smoother than last time and we sleep quite
well. When we arrive in Urganch we make our usual trek along the
dusty platform, expecting a driver to be waiting for us at the
station entrance. When will we ever learn that when we're told a car
will meet us at the station this never (with the exception of once,
in Moscow) materialises? A taxi driver says he'll take us to Khiva,
30 kilometres away for 20,000 soms
( about £5). This is really cheap and we can't believe our luck.
It turns out we should've trusted our instincts. When we're in his
car with our luggage installed in the boot, and our small backpacks
inside the car, he entices a couple of young Japanese tourists to
share the ride with us. The driver puts their luggage on his roof
rack. It makes sense really to share the ride, but he didn't ask us,
I'm squashed in the back of the car with 2 others and hand luggage,
and there's no seatbelts, front or back – and the taxi driver is
making double the asking price for the ride.
The
man drives really fast, between 2 lanes most of the way. He slows
down as he reaches Khiva. Reg tells him the name of our hotel, Hotel
Islambek, several times, but all
the driver replies is
“Hotel Khiva,
yes!”
When we arrive in Khiva no cars are allowed in the central area. The
driver parks his car and helps us with our luggage, walking with a
confidence and determination which make us think he knows where he's
going. The Japanese couple, who've been walking with us, say cheerio
as they see a restaurant and want lunch. On we walk; the driver is
wheeling the heavy suitcase, Reg is carrying the huge backpack, and I
have the 2 smaller ones, the heavy one on my back and my purple one
on my front. It's very hot.
We arrive at a hotel which isn't ours. The taxi driver walks up to
it and starts to go in with my suitcase. I stop him.
“This isn't
our hotel,” I say. “This
isn't Hotel Islambek.”
Reg shows a man standing at the door of the hotel our piece of paper.
Then follows a conversation between the man at the door and our taxi
driver – it seems that the hotel man is telling our driver where
Hotel Islambek is. Then the taxi driver says something to
the hotel man, and the hotel man seems to be asking us if we want to
stay at his hotel. We say no, quite emphatically. We're booked into the Hotel Islambek, and we've already paid for it.
We trundle, with our luggage in the hot sun all the way back to the
car, get in, and the driver finally takes us to the Hotel
Islambek, asking a couple of people on the way for more
directions. Never have I been so relieved to arrive at our
designated accommodation!
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