Train friends and arriving in Chita

We settled in the last train of the whole trip, from Irkutsk to Chita, on a rather good and confident mood, if tired. We'd tried different train bed arrangements throughout the whole trip, and this time Johanna had the upper corridor bed (terribly unsuitable for me, since the corridor beds have a wall at both ends, so I couldn't stretch my legs, but all right for her), and I had one of the lower bunks in the opposing "cabin" (not really a cabin since no door). It's useful if at least one of us had a lower cabin bed, so in the daytime we could hang out there without feeling like we're intruding by sitting on someone else's bed. Politeness on trains is complicated, because you're in a cramped space with a lot of strangers and you don't want to make anyone's trip more uncomfortable than it needs to be, and you're not entirely familiar with the culture so you're not quite sure how to be as little trouble as possible. Then again, the closeness breeds a nice kind of informality, and when you're sharing a small space anyway you might as well make friends.

Occupying the bed below Johanna, there was an older man who seemed tired and not very sociable. In my cabin, there was a young woman traveling with a small dog, and we immediately exchanged a few words. Also, a middle-aged man, who turned out to be called Evgenii, and a woman in her early twenties, called Svetlana. In the beginning of the trip Svetlana was actually crying openly, because she'd had to leave her boyfriend for a while. Crying in public, on a train, would be super extra rare in Finland, and maybe considered somewhat shameful, whereas in Russia, emotions are displayed much more publicly. While Russians are, for the most part, polite and initially reserved, they are also open in a way you don't really see in Finland, and quickly cordial in a way that's unfamiliar through most of the Anglo-American world. These are massive, massive generalisations, of course, but this is my impression of Russian culture.

So eventually, when the train had left, we got to talking with Svetlana, Evgenii, and the dog owner (whose name I've sadly forgotten). Johanna and I chatted with them, as much as our Russian skills would allow, about our backgrounds, where we're travelling, where they are travelling, where everyone's from, and what we've all seen on our travels. Upon noticing that there are strange, Russian-speaking foreigners in the train car, many people started to gather in or near our cabin: an old lady who had a clothes importing business, another middle-aged man called (possibly) Ivan, the old man on the corridor seat, a young man who very much wanted to be friends with me, and best of all, Natasha, a thirty-something Chita-dweller who spoke very good English. (We tried to maintain the conversation in Russian, but her English was way better than our Russian, so we slipped into English some of the time.)

So there was an impromptu party. We had pickles and Finnish licorice vodka (which the men, after a polite taste, announced they couldn't drink, as sweet drinks are for women), the dog-owner had sausages, one of the men had Russian vodka, and Svetlana had chocolate. Everyone talked and laughed a lot, and we were asked a million questions. We talked a lot about education, the cost of living, social security systems, retirement ages, money and salaries and costs in our respective questions. Also about why I'm not married, what Johanna's husband says about her travelling with another man (the dog owner remarked, with some pride but without judgment of our foreign ways, that a Russian husband would not allow such a thing, and made a demonstrative fist to underline her point), how old we are, where we work, what we have studied and so on. I felt much like a circus animal, but then, a circus animal who can marvel at the people, in turn.

At some point, the party broke off. I'd been a bit worried whether we were disturbing the other passengers, but so many Russian people were with us that Johanna and I left it for them to decide what is acceptable within their cultural context. And we did start getting ready to sleep shortly after midnight, I think, so it was not terribly late that we kept talking and laughing.

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of Evgenii opening his first beer of the day. After Johanna and I were up, washed, and breakfasted, Evgenii and (possibly-)Ivan proposed a game of cards. So the two men, Johanna, I and Svetlana (the dog owner had left the train late the previous night) played an indefinite number of games of durak ("idiot"), an easy and entertaining game I'd learned on my previous Russian train trips but partly forgotten. At some point, the English-speaking Natasha joined us, and having taken us up as a sort of a project, she offered to show us around Chita and maybe ask if one of her friends or relatives might let us stay in their place. We had a reservation at a hotel for one night, and I for one was glad that we'd have some privacy for the first night after the socially intensive train trip (I am, in the end, a big introvert), but for our second night in Chita, why not? This would possibly be a unique chance to see some Russian life and get to know a seemingly very nice person in more depth.

In the late afternoon, our train arrived in Chita. It was a small, peaceful-looking city of some 300,000 inhabitants. We parted from our train friends, except for Natasha, who walked with us to our hotel. Hotel Chita was an absolutely charming, old-style place with Russian carpets and run-down wooden furniture, and our room turned out to be a dancehall-sized four-person dorm where we were the only occupants. Natasha talked to the reception lady and arranged it so that we could cancel our second night there. We walked her to the nearby tram stop, and agreed to meet her in a few hours.

It was a nice early evening and the sun was shining, so although we needed a bit of rest before going for a walk with Natasha later in the evening, we decided to see a bit of the city at first. We were right by the beautiful, blue cathedral, so we decided to pop in and see it first. Like we had learned to expect, there was the continuous Orthodox service going on, and we stood around for a while and soaked in the atmosphere. After the church, we headed toward the main square, which in every city seems to be called Lenin Square (the main street being always Lenin Street). We bought some beers at a store and sat down by Lenin's feet to admire the central square and just relax. The evening sun was perfect, the Lenin statue was impressive, the buildings by the square were grand, the beer was good, and all in all it was a perfect East Siberian moment.

And that's a good place to leave our heroes until my next (and probably last) text post!