I am Exhibit 1

10/3
So far one cabin-mate, who speaks no English.
We are each given a thin futon type mattress, pillow, small blanket. I assume it is for this that I brought a sleep sack? I await further development.
The cabin is cozy, with 4 bunks, 2x2. They are well padded, and there are numerous hooks and small shelves for each passenger. There is a small table against the wood-frame window.
The two bottom bunks have a box below them that can only be accessed when the bunk is lifted, ensuring safety for my bag during the night. I have no idea how much of a concern security is.
My cabin-mate has spread some newspaper out on the table, just one of many mysteries.
The next car in front of ours is the PECTOPAH (restaurant) car, which seems convenient. I brought a little food, but The Man In Seat 61 seats that food is readily available in the dining car, so I have brought less than planned.
The train is rolling!
Sheets have arrived in sealed packages-I had no idea.

My cabin-mate is quite a gentleman, showing me how to lock the door at night, demonstrating the shoe protocol, and when I pulled out my small bag, he was up and out the door, closing it behind him instantly. I guess he thought I wanted to change, and was giving me privacy.
He knows about as many words in English as I know of Russian, so pantomime is heavily used.
I went to the restaurant car and sat, but no food? There are beds in the first two booths, and it appears to be the staff living area as much as a restaurant.

Eventually a menu was produced, all in Russian, and no one who spoke English, or Spanish or even German. Whereupon the waitress left me and they all ignored me.
But then I discovered that a small cart goes through the cars twice a day, with what looks like chips, sausage, and various drinks, plus sometimes pirogis.  So at least I have recourse to something to eat for three days. So breakfast today was a pirogi and hot tea, because there is always hot water at the end of the corridor.
As I sit here writing this, I am sitting longways in my bunk, looking over my shoulder out the window from time to time. My fellow passenger is sitting on his bunk facing me.  He has washed and cut up cucumbers and tomatoes, and added hot water to an instant noodle dish.  It is now abundantly clear that I should have brought food, but it is too late now.  He offers me some of his, and I take some cucumber to be polite.
Odd, to share this small space and be silent, but it seems alright to me.
Ah, but no, he mimes something, some sort of flying.  Is he trying to tell me he is a pilot? He finds a picture on his phone-it is a helicopter, and he knows the english for engineer.  So we have established what he does for a living.
Eventually he hits on the idea of using his phone to translate a word at a time, with varying success.  I have a map of Russia with me but he indicates that he lives off the map-Kazakhstan. He also showed me the schedule of stops for the train, and helps me to understand how long each one is.
Four border crossings, he says, which makes my stomach clench just a little.  I checked, double checked and confirmed that I do not need a Kazak visa,  but the individual officers at the border have some discretion, and sometimes those border crossings overland are more likely to cause grief.  And, I had not realized that the train's route takes it from Russia to Kazakhstan, back into Russia and then finally into Kazakhstan for good. So I fret for a bit, until I realize there is nothing to be done about it.  I resolve to look confident and be patient should an issue arise.
I woke sometimes during the first night, realizing we were stopped, then hearing another train go by, and then we would move on again, having waited for the other train to pass.  It all felt so peaceful and doable lying there in my warm and cozy bunk.
My cabin-mate clearly feels some need to help me, he wanted to walk with me when we stopped for a while.  He was very proud when he turned up with someone who spoke some English; he had asked her to come and translate for us.  By this conversation we established names, and where I am going, and various other things.  Natali lives in Seratov, and her English was pretty good from having traveled to the Phillipines and other places, English being the most common 'travel' language, I think. A small crowd had gathered at this point, and the next question was 'why?' Why am I doing this?  Natali answered for me, and then told me what she had said (although her comments to me were always much shorter than her conversation with the others).  They were quite curious about me.  She told me that she understands why I travel, because she too has traveled to see the world outside her own, and she identified with me as a fellow bug-bitten traveler.  Why travel? Because it is there, because I have not seen it, because even though it may sometimes be hard, or lonely, it is to be alive.  This is for me, I know it is not how everyone feels. After a short while Natali returned to her cabin, and I was left with Almaz, Oljas and another young man whose name I never learned.  I felt a bit like an animal in a zoo, albeit one with nice keepers.

The route:
Moscow Paveretskaya
then dropping straight south, stopping along the way, to Saratov.
Here we lost Natali, but she came and we traded emails and FB contact info before she got off.  She also left me some food, which made me feel slightly foolish for my lack of preparedness,  but I took it happily.
Then we dropped down into Kazakhstan around 10:30 and turned east, for our first border crossing.  The first officers were Russian, and she spoke very little English.  She wanted my Kazak visa (oh no!) but I said that it was not required, and she did not argue. This stop lasted for 90 minutes. We stopped again on the other side of the border for 60 minutes, and I think that was where an officer who spoke excellent English was found.  He had more questions for me, such as when I left home, where I had been, where I was going, and after I had gone over the high points of my itinerary, he asked me why?  Oh, lordy.  I tried to trot out a boilerplate answer, and he cut me off.  He said, no, why are you alone?  I had no answer ready for that one, and perhaps it is best that I did not.  He let me stumble for a few seconds, and then waved me off, stamping my paper and letting me off the hook.  While this was going on, my cabin mate, whose name I now knew is Almaz, and a few other officers, were listening in.  The only good thing about it is that I knew most of them would not know what was being said.  Olmaz kept talking to him too, I think trying to help me, but I was afraid his help would go amiss. However, I had no way to stop him anyway, so I just waited.
The largest German Shepherd I have ever seen was brought through the train, they poked in every nook and cranny, some I did not know even existed.  I had to show my bags, but happily avoided unpacking in front of the crowd.
The final two crossings were less eventful, which I was glad of.  Wholly entertaining, as long as it goes well, but by the time we were done with them, it was around 3 am.