a blog from the road

Do you want to really, really, really love a bunk on a train? Do you want to feel that getting to spend the night, or even from 1:00 am on, in the crisp, white sheets and thick blanket in platscart, with the train moving under you and the heating system in full operation, is that best thing that ever happened to you? And that a eating a plastic cup of just-add-water soup with a fork is the ideal meal? I have some suggestions as to how this level of appreciation can be brought about. This just seems like a set-up for a long post of whining. But that’s not how I meant it; I am really so insanely happy to be sitting in this train right now, the sun shining on snowy forests and plains out the window, having slept until almost 11:00 in a warm bed, that all discomfort of the past few days seem relevant only as contrast to the excellence of this train.

We left Helsinki Monday morning, Abby informs me; I have very little sense of time, so I would have no idea if asked. So, yes, got up at some very early hour Monday morning, dragged our belongings through the National Finn Fitness Park or whatever it is that lies between the Hostel Stadion and the Helsinki train station, had our last look at the frigid lakes and well-ordered paths along which we have seen so many a hardy Finn striding hardily about walking his or her dog, or engaging in “Nordic Walking” in a purple jogging suit. Sadly said goodbye to Laurel in the clean, well-ordered train station. At this point I’m not entirely sure what happened. We rode on a train for a long time, but there are a lot of trains in this story, and I don’t remember anything about this one. There were a lot of Russians in snow pants. There seem to be set occasions in which Russians wear snow pants, but I haven’t really figured out what they are. Oh, a very cute little boy named Zhenya sat in front of us and he was very awesome and Russian and shot everyone on the train with a toy gun. For a while an almost-equally-cute little girl named Katya sat next to him and they colored together and it was like a ridiculous juice-box commercial or something their conversation was so cute. My favorite part of the train ride was when we crossed the Russian border and Katya’s father, this strapping man with a blond Russian-style almost-mullet, looked out the window at the snow-covered pines and such and said “А, Родина, Вот она такая!» (Oh, the homeland, what a one she is!). I'm not sure why I found this so amusing.

Got to St. Petersburg in the afternoon sometime. Depostited our heavier luggage in a very complex locker in a very crouded lockerroom in the train station. Set our for a night of homelessness, as we hadn't been motivated enough to book a hostel. Hopefully Abby will write a list of the actual things we did, because I don't really remember. We ate a lot of chocolate bars, walked through a lot of shopping centers, etc. Met Ivan around 9:00, I think, in a fasttfood blini restaurant, stayed there until it closed sometime after 10:00. I had always wanted to be one of those people who sits about leisurely in an establishment even as it is clear that it is closing.

Earlier in the evening, Abby had had the brilliant idea of taking a «Night-time Petersburg» bus tour. When we asked at the «expeditions» kiosk how long the tour lasted, and learned that it was from 11:00 to 6:00 am it seemed not only brilliant but genius. So we headed to that expedition kiosk area. Saw some very nice fireworks and laser show on Nevsky Prospect, I think in front of the Russian Museum, on the way. Went to grocery store. bought ice-cream. Got on bus. Very long bus-ride began. Oh man, I don't know how to describe this bus tour. The guide was this little woman in a gray bun. She talked very, very fast. My favorite was at the very beginning, on Nevsky Prospect, when she had to say what every single building was as we passed it, as they are all important. It was like a very enthusiastic radio sports broadcast, I guess. «And, on-the-right the Someone-important-Palace! Minister of Catherine the Great! And on the left Pushkin once ate lunch! And on the right something-or-other-no-one-understands-because-I'm-speaking-very-fast-and-everyone-on-this-bus-is-a-beer-drinking-hooligan-anyway!» You could get whiplash, if you didn't watch out. Every once in a while we would stop so we could go take pictures. Except that is was the middle of the night, so it was sort of pointlesss. But there was a lot of enthusiastic picture-taking anyway. The guide really liked throwing dramatic quotations of Lermantov and Ahmatova into the lecture. I would know a lot about every activity of those persons, as well as of Blok and especially Pushkin, if I had been able to listen to the woman for 6 hours straight. She especially relished describing the deaths of the famous people whose old apartments or schools we drove by. Like of this one poor man who was discribed as having «caught his last tramvai.» There was a lot of half-sleeping in the back of the bus, where the cool kids (me and Abby, of course) were hanging out. It would have been full-sleeping, but there was a crazy babushka yelling about scultures of sphinxes and hooligans poking their girlfriends and trying to wake them up, and stopping of the bus to look at dark churches, interrupting our slumber. And poor Abby was sick and just freezing cold the whole time, and it was very sad. At 2 am we stopped at a cafe and all got out and bought tea. Then back in the bus for more babushka-tour. Agh, it was so out of control. But in many ways more in-control than at 5:45 am when we were set down in the dark streets with no where to go. There was much darkness and coldness and tiredness involved. And cafes with drunk people being chased out of them. And 24-hour bookstores. 24-hour bookstores don't seem like such a good economic venture to me, but we appreciated them anyway. Eventually we just got on the metro and rode it for a long ...

This entry was inturrupted by 100 3rd grade boys swarming the compartment and asking what games I had on my computer. Actually only about 5. Much Marble Blast Gold was played. Gettng into Kazan. Will be there 11 hours. No hotel again. But Abby and I are now pros at this.