Month: augustus 2009

July 24. “Labouring” in Siberia.
The train rolled in the Novosibirsk railway station at five am Moscow time. It's three hours later here and the day has definitely started. A short busride takes me to what is designated as the answer to my repeated "centr?" where I hit a coffee place and get organized. I talk to the owner who ...
July 23. Irkutsk > Novosibirsk

The train from Irkutsk to Novosibirsk. I watch a movie and still my appetite with instant noodles just like all the other passengers I can see since I can't look into the first class waggons where caviar feasts and wodka deliria would shorten subjective travel time for upper class Russians. It is nice though ...
July 22. Arrival in Irkutsk.


Irkutsk. It's pitch black when the train arrives. A little confusion because the station clocks use Moscow time. I lie down a couple of hours next to a Belgian group of four that is traveling in the other (more usual) direction towards Vladivostok and by bus to Harping, China. I am surprised my ...
July 21. Train stories #3.
Someone pulls my arm and points at the window. Suddenly, it was there: Lake Baikal. Majestic, pristine, a venerable lady hidden somewhere in the center of the Eurasian landmass. It is wonderful, cameras are pulled out including mine, there is an atmosphere of gaiety on the train, people smile. And she never lets her visitors ...
July 20. Train stories #2.
The fat singing man in the restaurant waggon. I don't know if I can describe him, but I want to try. I am looking for some variation on the theme of being on the train, and hence start walking up and down the mighty machine. I reach the last waggon on one end and take ...
July 19. Train stories #1.
I feel comfortable on the train, playing in my head with reminiscences of my earlier Russian trainrides. The platzkart, the hot water tap, the linen, the short conversations in broken Russian, the angry looking young men, the smiling women - it is all the same here in the far east. The train rolls through endless ...
July 18.
Vladivostok. The romantic feeling of being in a faraway place, even though it has been all too easy to get here. Getting off the ferry takes a while, and I sit in the corner brushing up my Russian with a set of notes I took in november, the last time I was in Russia. Passport ...
July 17. The ferry to Vladivostok.

An early morning-goodbye to my friends in Korea. I hop on the bus to Sokcho, get into the terminal and go to the usual cycles of waiting. Once I'm admitted to the rusty vessel (you should have seen the cardeck) I'm so tired that I crash my berth right away. The berth: they just ...