Irkutsk to Moscow Train #339

Day 1

Well, it couldn’t all be a bed of roses, could it? Train 339 was probably used in a previous life to transport prisoners to the gulag. It is old, uncomfortable, but worst of all it is dirty. The dust sits in the air, and in the ancient, stained pillows. The windows are so filthy that even if there was anything apart from Birch trees to look at (which there isn’t) you wouldn’t be able to. The seats are like church pews and the only way you can pad them is to add decrepit woolen blankets that look like the potential home for fleas. Everything you touch leaves your hands dusty or sticky and we sneeze constantly. This train has come from Beijing (probably from the Ming dynasty) and there are several compartments of Chinese migrant workers who chain smoke and chain noodle-eat.

Day 2

We have got more used to our filthy little prison. (Or are we just institutionalised?) The views past the dusty window are no longer just the Birch and Fir trees of Eastern Siberia, but are now sprinkled with the occasional factory that looks like Chernobyl after the accident. Outside one particularly crumbling factory we see steaming hot water being pumped into a stream. No wonder the attendant villagers of these factories would make it on to any ‘zombie extra’ cast list.

Just for a laugh we try the dining carriage. The decor is lime green plastic which should be warning enough. The carriage attendant looks like a fearsome dinner lady and gives us a menu in Russian. We try smiling and then sign language (but how does one sign ‘a little bit of decent food, please?’). She brings out an omelette with a thick blubbery layer  of grease and some rice that has been basted in grease and then given a generous dollop of grease on top. I try some, and the amount of fat that thickly coats the inside of my throat means I cannot feel my breath when I breathe in. We run, comedy style, from the carriage.

Day 3

We have crossed over to Europe during the night and have 1,000km to go before we reach Moscow. Many of our fellow passengers have left the train, only a few hardy souls doing the full four night, three day marathon. We are starting to feel a little the worse for wear for all the grubby, dusty dirt in our carriage, especially as it is getting hot and only two carriages down they have the air con on at full blast. We watch the season finale of Doctor Who ("No! How will he escape? Did Rory really shoot Amy? The Tardis! Exploded!?") And then we empty the last of our food bag and feast on pot noodles, Ritz crackers and warm beer. We set the alarm clock for 3am and try to sleep in the sticky heat for a couple of hours. The train pulls into the station at 4:11am, on time to the minute! We are here, and we have survived one of the world's longest train journeys...