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.

Dust and dreams

10/2
No Catherine today, so I had all day in Moscow. I had given up my room, so had my bags with me. I wandered about, getting one last look at Moscow, bought a few souvenirs, and reorganized my pack (yes, in public), jettisoning a few things to ease the way.
I was at the train station early, but that was good because it occurred to me that I would need some rubles for the train.  There was an information booth, but she spoke no English, and wrote 23 on a slip of paper, pointing toward the numbered ticket windows. #23 also spoke no English, and wrote 13 on her slip of paper. So I went to 13, at which there was a line. I then realized that I had time to leave the station and find a bank or exchange place on my own.

"This is my dilemma . . . I am dust and ashes, frail and wayward. . . riddled with fears, beset with needs. . . but there is sometime else in me. . . dust I may be, but troubled dust, dust that dreams." Richard Holloway

This is a quote taken from a book I read on the train these last days.  I am in Almaty, or Alma Ata, Kazakhstan.  I am posting my notes from the train in several posts.  Sorry for the deluge.

The lure of the familiar goes with us even as we seek out the unknown, exotic and entrancing though they may be. Sometimes I have just wanted to speak and be understood. I realize that I am the intruder here, and it therefore falls to me to adapt-whether by learning the language, following custom, or accepting things as i find them. Still, I confess to visiting McDonald's for lunch in Moscow. Even that required the use of a special laminated picture menu. I suppose it is why immigrants tend to group in their new environs: security, familiarity, ease of understanding and being understood, whether the spoken language or the meanings assigned to events and behavior. Which is , I suppose, why I am hoping there will be another traveler on the train who speaks English.

Layers work better in California

What a difference a few degrees make.  I went to the Kremlin this morning, in a biting wind, and temps around 5 degrees Celcius.  (Kevin, I know you are laughing at me now)

I had on two shirts, my fleece jacket and my windbreaker/rain jacket, and it was not enough. I know I grew up in Alaska and northern Wisconsin, but my blood has gotten used to California.  I at least had the sense to laugh at myself.

The Kremlin is a very large, very well kept fortress, and of course we only get to see a small portion of it.  In fact, the only buildings you can go in are the churches.  Note that going inside buildings was a priority for me today.  I invented all kinds of reasons on and off all day to pop in a store (see below).  Anyway, back to the Kremlin.  I had read that the Ivan the Great Belltower was not to be missed, and that it required an extra ticket.  But when I inquired about it, I  was told that it was closed today due to the wind.  Oh well.  I would have had to sit through a 45 minute presentation in Russian (no other languages offered) if I had gotten in, so maybe not so bad.  But warm, it would have been warm.

The surprising thing about the proliferation of churches inside the Kremlin walls is knowing the prior view of the Communist state regarding religion. I know that it is now tolerated, and in fact I am surprised at the number of people I see praying at churches I have visited, but during the Communist era at least, religion was heavily discouraged.  I am surprised that the cathedrals are still there, and that the old paintings, murals and icons still exist as well.  In the Assumption (Dormition) Cathedral, you can see where the Tsar and Tsarina sat, and there are several patriarchs' tombs around the church.  The custom seems to have been to paint various religious figures and scenes all over the walls, archways and ceilings, and these have very high ceilings.  Some of the pictures use a sort of tin.  One of the paintings I saw dates from the 1400's.  Supposedly when Hitler was advancing on Moscow, Stalin ordered a secret service in the cathedral to protect the city, so perhaps there was some residual belief that prevented the destruction of the trappings of the Orthodox Church.

Along the front of the Kremlin, the Alexander Garden is beautiful, with fountains, plantings, and wide boulevards for strolling.  Fortunately I was there on a warmer day, because I did not linger today.  There is an amazing world underground, and on a day like today, that was helpful.

I alternated walking above ground, below ground, in stores, stopping for coffee and taking the Metro all day.  I wanted to see ul. Arbat, or Arbat Street, a pedestrian street with artists, musicians, and of course lots of shops.  I took the Metro, but as usual had trouble geting oriented when I got up top.  When I got to the street, I began stopping in cheesy souvenir shops every block to view yet more nesting dolls, because the stores are WARM.  I mean really warm.  Earlier in the day I went to a book store (ok, more than one), and I got so hot inside all my layers, it actually felt good to walk outside for about 5 seconds.

I am sitting in my room typing this, while the other people who live here are fighting in the kitchen.  It's in Russian, so that lends a bit of privacy in spite of the thin walls.

I am meeting Catherine, Sabine's cousin, tomorrow late morning, and tomorrow evening I get on the train for Almaty, and then on to Urumqi.  I am certain I won't have wi-fi on the train, so thought I would give you the scoop now about my next few days.

Almaty is in Kazakhstan, and I will be on the train for 3 nights getting there.  Apparently it is quite a distance.  Hence the visit to the bookstores today.  I hope to meet people on the train, but I think I will have plenty of time for reading too.  I will be in Almaty one night, going on the next to Urumqi, China.  The reason for the one day delay is that the train to Urumqi only goes twice a week.  Since I will be transiting back through Almaty when I leave China, it should be helpful to have already gotten the lay of the land.  I do not have a hotel there, just figure I will find something close to the train station.  

I have a little phrase book, so I can learn how to say hotel in Kazak.  Also since Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan both are former Soviet republics, a lot of people speak Russian.  Not that I do, but I do have the alphabet almost down.  And I know how to say thank you, and count to 8.  What more could I need?

I am riding in a four person sleeping compartment, which could be really good, or not so much.  I am really uncertain how much to worry about securing my bags, but I doubt I can do a lot anyway.  I will keep my money, passport and electronics in my day bag, and money belt, and I'll carry those with me always, including sleeping with them.  Beyond that, if someone wants my dirty laundry or toothpaste, I am unwilling to worry too much about it.  

I tried to exchange some of my dollars for some Kazak and Chinese currency here, but none of the exchange places seem to have anything but Russian rubles, Euros and US Dollars.  

I think my entry into Almaty and into Urumqi are the two most intimidating parts of this trip.  I will be sure to let you know how it goes.

Wandering and being lost

It has been raining off and on all day, one time it rained hard just as I was no where close to shelter.  I have a rain coat, which I was wearing  but I had my camera in my bag and other things I didn't want to get wet.  I had just bought something at an amazing church and monastery, and so I dumped the contents of that bag into my bag, and tied the plastic bag around my actual bag.  Between that and my rolled up jeans, I was quite a sight.  Fortunately I don't think anyone was looking, they were all trying to stay dry too.

I mentioned before that I have some language challenges.  I have an index card with some words, and the Russian alphabet, and I use it to 'read' the words on the street sign so that I can find where I am on my map, which is not in Russian, but in English.

So I know that this sign says:  Malee(or ih)oy Keesehlnihee, except it doesn't. 

And this sign says Rozhlestvehnskaya. Again, not right, but then I look at my map in the area where I think I am, and try to find a name that looks a lot like what I have just spelled out.  

Sometimes I get it right away, but most of the time I have to walk around an intersection, or down to the next street to figure out where I am-so I know how to get where it is I want to go.  

Today I had fair success, except for one spectacular failure after getting off the Metro.  That is always the hardest, because there are usually multiple exits/entrances to different corners or streets, so I am not sure where I am coming up.  The lack of sunny days doesn't help, I don't usually know which way is north until I find myself on the map.  It sounds tiring, and it is, but it is also fun.  Sometimes I just wander, if the neighborhood is interesting.

I had to go pick up my onward train tickets today at an office that involved a Metro ride, which was intimidating me after my first attempt.  Eventually I bit the bullet, even got a multiple ride ticket from a machine, and got on and off at the right places.  Tomorrow I will do some more Metro riding because I am going in search of a couple of English language bookstores.

Even with the Metro, I walk pretty much all day.  I would like to find a place with pierogis, and probably have walked right by some without knowing it.  

To cross major intersections, you have to go underground, as in Warsaw.  Many of the pedestrian tunnels are basic walkways, but some have shops, musicians playing with their hats out, and access to the Metro.  All of them are a warm place to get out of the rain.  I have noticed a few beggars there, and in front of churches, and almost all of them are old women.  I saw one old woman breaking down a cardboard box this evening, presumably to sleep on?  I find this heartbreaking for some reason, and so now I have found a use for all the change that I have been collecting from every transaction.  I don't usually give money to beggars but I cannot pass these by.

My room in Moscow

My room has two single beds, a divan, a single chair and a coat tree in the corner.  The light is a single bare bulb in the high ceiling.  Pipes run across and up the wall, and the window leaks cold air.  There is ornate crown molding along the ceiling that was painted over at some time in the past and a large lavender and gold tapestry on one wall

The bathroom is shared, and the toilet is in a closet.  This all sounds kind of awful, but it is surprisingly comfortable, and the heater seems to keep up with the cold air from the window.  I slept well last night, and when I woke to rain on the window, I decided to stay in bed a while longer.  This place has the fastest internet I have had so far, and it is secure.

The apparent owner of the flat is a tall, slender woman who speaks English, fortunately for me.  When she discovered my name, she asked if I have family here, because Irene is a common Russian name.  It was odd to pay for my four nights in thousands of rubles, but the exchange rate is about 39 Rubles to one dollar.

To get in to this flat, I first have to use my magnetic fob to open a large metal gate, then walk around back of the building, in a small courtyard shared with neighboring buildings.  I enter a code in the panel by the door, which lets me in the building.  Up the elevator to the 5th floor, then walk down a half flight (the elevator is on the landings, not on the actual floor levels-perhaps a more recent addition), and unlock the flat door.  Then I have a separate key to my room-no idea if it is actually keyed differently from the other three rooms here, but I operate on that assumption.  The only other people here are the young man who let me in the first day and his girlfriend.

It's home, sweet home for a couple more nights.

Hopefully this link will work to see photos:  https://picasaweb.google.com/117262794551578669230/TheGrandAdventure?authuser=0&feat=directlink

St Basil

There's nothing like some food, a bathroom and a little exploration to lighten the load.  I went wandering this afternoon, and got lost, of course.  Getting lost is just fine, unless there is a train to catch.  After a while I found a landmark I could identify, and discovered I had gone in a fairly large circle.
Red Square and St. Basil's Cathedral were beautiful in the late day light, so I hung around to see it after the lights came on.

Crazy how beautiful it was.  I plan to go back during the day to see the insides and the Kremlin.

I also get to try my luck with the Metro again, so that I can pick up train tickets.  I have my Russian alphabet cheat sheet, and will figure it out. Or walk a long way.