After the train conductor checked my passport, I boarded the deep green train bound for Moscow. The train was decorated with red curtains and old-fashioned carpets. Inside the compartment were 4 beds and a folding table with a table cloth that matched the curtain. The train seemed like it hadn’t changed for 30 years and had remains of the rich atmosphere when traveling on the train was still luxurious.
My compartment mate Anya was a Mongolian student who was studying engineering in Moscow. She was born and raised in Moscow so she spoke Russian very fluently. Once every year when she visited her family in Ulan Bator, she always took the Trans-Siberian which was a lot more affordable than the airplane. I always thought that the Trans-Siberian was an expensive train for rich people, but in fact it only cost 100USD from Ulan Bator to Moscow if bought directly from the station. This was a big bargain considering the distance, 4600km. But this was only when you took a direct route without stops being on the train for 7 straight days.
Outside the train, families gathered for farewell. Anya’s mother and grandfather was waving and saying the last goodbye over the phone through the window. I waited for departure eating some chocolates feeling relaxed to have a friendly compartment mate like Anya who spoke English very well. When the train started to move without any announcements, families screamed and some were even crying. Anya waved her hand until she couldn’t see her family anymore. When I saw a small tear drop in Anya’s eyes I also felt sad and cried a little bit. My other two compartment mates were also Mongolians. Chris studied medical science in Kiev, Ukraine and Batcha studied engineering in Novosibirsk, Russia. It seemed that most of the educated Mongolians went on to the next stage of education in Russia rather than the United States or Europe. Russia was still the centre of the region.
All of the people boarding this train were Mongolian students or merchants. There were no tourists. The merchants brought a bunch of wool socks and cheap Chinese clothes to sell in Russia. To avoid paying expensive taxes at the customs, they gave students some money to hide the products in their compartments. Anya didn’t receive any money but she received more than 50 pairs of socks and fake Nike products to hide in her suitcase. Chris put a brand new cashmere coat on the hook so it looked like her own. Many merchants and other students came into our compartment without knocking so there was no peace. The train ran along the grasslands as we shared some snacks. The glowing sunset painted the hills completely orange and I watched the last view of Mongolia pass by.
Soon outside became pitch dark. I ate instant noodles for dinner. Everyone had 7 days worth of food stored under the beds and kindly shared everything with me. A plastic bag full of fried dumplings, Chris’s mother’s homemade kimchi, juice, soda, fruits etc. At some stations vendors came to sell food from the platforms. Batcha bought some sheep meat soup. The vendor put the homemade soup in an empty jam bottle and wrapped it with newspaper. I tried a few spoons of the last sheep in Mongolia.
After dinner Batcha played some Hollywood movies on his laptop and I watched it with Anya. The locked compartment was lit with a small reading lamp. The classical decorations reminded me of an old library. Countless stars shined outside the window. “Anya, isn’t this so exciting? I feel like a little child hiding in the secret attic” I said. “I first had the same feeling but I don’t feel it anymore after taking this train every year. I’m tired of sitting in a train for 7days” Anya replied.
We arrived at the Mongolian border at 2 in the morning. Customs officers came in and collected our passports. After 1 hour we received our passports with a departure stamp and waited for another hour until the train started to move again. The train ran through the zone that didn’t belong to either Mongolia or Russia for 30 minutes until we reached the Naushki border.
10 Russian customs officer entered the train with security dogs. They were all tall, had fare skin and hair styles with long bangs or close-cropped hair that would only be popular in Russia. As I waited for them lying on my bed, Anya told me to get up and stand. There was a tense atmosphere totally different from the Mongolian border. An officer with a Doberman pinscher stood in front of our compartment. I said “Hello” in my freshly learnt Russian but he ignored me with ice cold eyes. I felt that I entered Russia. The officer made us open our suitcases and checked it. Fortunately he didn’t notice about the merchant’s products and left after he collected our passports.
Russia didn’t allow independent travel for Japanese tourists. In order to attain a visa, we had to sign up for a full tour and register the itinerary with hotel names to have our “invitation letter” issued. Only with this letter we were able to receive a visa. However I had no money to buy a tour so I bought a fake invitation letter online from a Russian travel agency for just 20 euros. I took this to the Russian embassy in Tokyo and had my visa issued but was always scared when the Russian authorities would find out. I was relieved when I got my passport back with a stamp. I was finally in Russia. The passport control took 4hours finishing in the early morning. I slept like a log.
When I woke up feeling the sun in my eyes, I saw an ocean outside of the window. But it wasn’t an ocean. It was an enormous lake where you couldn’t even see the other side. In front of me was Lake Baikal, the deepest and clearest lake in the world. I felt so excited that I wanted to wake everybody up. I stared at the shining water. Between the train and the lake was only 5m, nothing to obstruct the view. Everybody was asleep and the train was silent. It reminded me of one scene from the movie “Spirited Away”. Unfortunately my camera was broken after climbing the sand dunes in Mongolia so I took just one picture using my iphone and tried to remember it with my own eyes. Maybe scenaries meant more when you didn’t have any pictures.
The plan was to get off at Irkutsk station at 11am to take a ferry to Lake Baikal. I had been staring at the lake for more than 2 hours but had no clue when I was going to arrive. I even didn’t know what local time it was. I asked the train conductor but she said she didn’t know. “What do you mean you don’t know?” She didn’t speak English at all. I asked Anya who just woke up. “Well, all the trains run on Moscow time so if it says that the train will arrive at 11am, that’ll be 4pm in Irkutsk time. ” I had been carrying a guide book about the Trans-Siberian but I was missing the most basic details. I had to give up my afternoon ferry.
Another question was that if this was really the Trans-Siberian. “In my book I can’t find information about the train that we’re riding now.” “This is not the Trans-Siberian” Anya said. “This is the Mongolian train which runs the same track as the Trans-Siberian. That’s why all passengers and crew are Mongolian. It says that it is a part of the Trans-Siberian in a broad meaning” Anya showed me the Wikipedia page. I was a bit upset to know this fact but was glad to make a trip with such friendly compartment mates. I hugged everyone tightly when I got off at Irkutsk promising Anya reunion in Moscow next week.