Train Life: Life on the Rails

I haven't talked too much about traveling on the rails, but I can't conclude my blog without giving a run down on train life.  There are three classes to choose from when you buy a long distance train ticket.  First class (I think they get functioning bathrooms and have access to a bar and restaurant), second class where you get a private 4-person room, and 3rd class where I obviously stayed.  Economy for life!  My motto.

I cannot vouch for the first two classes.  But third class is quite an experience.  You get assigned a bed number and it is a roll of the die.  You are either top bunk or bottom bunk.  If you're top bunk and you're not planning on staying in a laying position for days and days on end, you best make friends with your neighbor in the lower bunk.

Once you find your assigned bunk you are given sheets and you can dress your "bed".  You can ask for a cup which you can use to get hot or cold water.  This is all you have access to.  No food, no other meals.  Hopefully you brought your own.  You can buy Ramen or instant potatoes from the staff, but who wants to live off that for days?  Days.  Gross.

There is no shower and no running water in the bathroom.  I hesitate to even call it a bathroom.  The toilet is metal and when you "flush" it, it empties its contents into the wind. Just, outside.  Note to all, don't ever plan on taking a stroll along the tracks of the trans-syberian railway, I imagine it's not a pretty sight.

Now let me give you an idea on timing here.  The longest journey you can take on the fast train is 7 days straight Vladivostok to Moscow.  One straight week.  No shower, no real bathroom, instant potatoes.  The longest I spent was 69 hours.  It was enough.

Now, there are times when the trains stop for about 20 minutes.  In this time, if you dare, (the trains are precise down to the second in terms of arrival and takeoff) you can run off the train and grab some food at the station or go to the bathroom.  In the eastern part of the motherland, good luck finding a bathroom in the train station, they're too small.  In the Western part, you have to pay to use the bathroom.

I loved being on the train, but it's certainly not for everyone.  It's also illegal to drink on the train, so naturally, people hide their alcohol under the little table they are given.  They play these bizarre unlearnable card games to pass the time.  And they whisper a lot.  People make friends, and play guitar.  Occasionally they play a random Backstreet Boys song over the loudspeaker...it's really quite and experience.  It's also a smelly and unhygienic experience.  I think everyone should do this once.

Ivan the Terrible Fun Facts

In Korea, when anyone jokes about getting a drink or taking a shot, they click their tongues and gesture shooting alcohol or what they call "one shot."

In Russia, when drinking or taking a shot is mentioned people tap or flick the side of their neck.  After the third or fourth time witnessing this, I had to ask.

Turns out, during Ivan the Terrible's reign, the only people allowed to drink were people of authority.  That is, people in power under Ivan.  To signify their authority, they were branded with tattoos on their neck.

If people wanted to get a drink at the bar, they had to show their tattoo.  They would walk in and tap or flick their tattoo to prove they were allowed in to get a drink.  

And the habit holds true.  I thought it was interesting.

Day 36: Saying goodbye to The Motherland

My last day in the Motherland.  It's the saddest day.  I am in love with this country and vow to go back in my allotted 3-year visa.  

I visited Peterhof today, Peter the Great's Summer Palace.  As you might imagine, not as glorious in the winter.  Actually it was still great.  Of course, the fountain cascade was not in effect.  However, the contrast of the white snow against the brilliant golden statues was definitely a sight to see.  

Again at this place, I somehow got in for free.  Again, I swear I was entering at the entrance.  But alas I did not.  No one batted an eye at me.  I took a cold, yet beautiful stroll around the palace and said goodbye to my beloved Russia.

I had a long-ass layover in Beijing, China in an airport even more uncomfortable and expensive than JFK.  I met a Korean man making the same journey as I.  I kid you not, we randomly ran into each other about 6 times at the airport.  First in China at immigration, next on the first plane, then on the second plane, finally after landing in Korea while we waited for the buses to start going.  It was eerie.

I left Russia Wednesday evening and arrived in Korea Friday morning at 2am and went to work at my job in Yeosu, which is 5 hours from Seoul, at 2pm that same day.  I'm a champ.

Day 35: The Theatre

After walking around the palace today, I decided I had to at least try to get tickets to a show.  I can't leave Russia without having at least tried to get tickets to a show at one of these incredible and ancient historical theatres.  I walked into the Alexandrinsky Theatre two hours before curtain and asked for a ticket assuming my chances were slim to none.  Well I got one for tonight, for 4 bucks.  That's right, 4 smackeroos.

I had a drink before heading to the theatre.  After talking to the bartender I learned something really interesting about St. Petersburg.  In summer, sometime at night, the bridges go up for the boats and ships to go through and they don't come down until early the next morning.  There are multiple rivers that run through St. Petersburg.  This means, if you are stuck on the wrong side of the river when the bridges go up, you are SOL.  There is no way to get to the other side of the river.  You have to stay where you are until the bridges go back down early in the morning.  If you're out late, you're staying out late.  This also means the bars stay open all night long to accommodate.  Perhaps St. Petersburg alone pays a huge contribution to the alcohol consumption statistics in Russia.

Later on, I walked into what I swear was the front of this theatre.  If could not have looked more 'front-of-theatre' like.  Yet somehow, somehow, I went into the wrong enterance, thus entering into a maze of confusion.  I amazingly enough figured out where my seat was despite not once encountering any staff whatsoever.  No one checked my ticket.  No one interacted with me.  I didn't even set my eyes upon a single person who works there.  I could have walked in and saw that show for free.  Absolutely could have.

This show, I don't know how to describe it.  The set was awesome.  It was a plexiglass LED-lite floor made of 8X8 squares that elevated 8 feet up and down allowing actors to rise from underneath the stage onto the stage in these see-through boxes.  It was such a strange show, something out of the mind of David Lynch.  I loved it.  I couldn't understand a damn word, but I loved it.  I got the main idea.  It was awesome just to be in that theatre.  And the best part of the whole thing was that my ticket, again just to reiterate, cost 4 bucks.

Day 34: Burg Burg Burg

After a long day of contemplating hundreds of pieces of art, I decided I needed some good music and some beer.  I went to a jazz club that promised live jazz every night.  Well, every night except this night I guess.  I sat down and I wasn't really feeling the atmosphere, but I was there and had walked a loooooong time to get there so I was having a drink.  I watched a girl go in and out of the bar again and again to smoke a cigarette.  Eventually she ran out of cigs.  The bars here sell cigarettes so she asked the bartender to sell her a pack.  She asked him for the expiration dates and was unsatistied with the answers and refused to buy a pack at the bar.  This annoyed me.  The expiration date, really?  As if she wasn't going to smoke the entire pack that night anyway.  I watched her smoke 5 cigarettes over the span of an hour.  Stop it with the expiration dates.   

Next I went to a bar near my hostel.  I went to go to the bathroom and a drunk guy stopped me and started speaking Russian to me.  I told him I don't understand and that I speak English.  I said this in Russian.  He didn't understand apparently because he kept talking to me in Russian.  I said it in English.  The point still did not get across.  He asked me to dance with him to this awful house music that was blasting to an almost empty room.  I said ok, but can I please use the bathroom now?  I went to the bathroom and I could feel it in my bones, he was waiting for me outside the door.

Out I went and, as I accurately predicted, there he was.  We "danced."  The only other person in the dance room was his friend who, in between bouts of break-dancing, managed to slap my ass and slap it hard.  I yelled.  Loudly.  The first guy apologized.  After a few minutes I was over the entire encounter so I got ready to leave.  The guy followed me.  Outside.  He had no coat on and none of his things.  It was cold.  He kept talking to me and talking to me and I kept telling him I don't understand and I'm going home now and blah blah blah.  He wouldn't back down.  I wasn't afraid, but it was a little annoying.  Anyway, a girl walking down the street saw us and asked me in English, "Do you need help?"  "Yes," I said.  She sent the guy away and then told me I should learn Russian.  He was asking me where I'm from and telling me I'm beautiful.  Now normally, I'd take that as a compliment but let me tell you, that guy must have been really really really drunk because I have not washed my hair in days, I have no makeup on, and I'm wearing the frumpiest clothes imaginable.  Be serious.

So I got to my hostel and was ready to sleep, the lights were out and it was about 1am.  And that's when I heard a tap on the side of my bed.  I don't know why, but the newest member of the hostel room decided he needed to speak to me, and now.  He sat down on the edge of my bed and just started talking and talking.  And then he told me he couldn't speak English, but then he talked more.  And then he gave me money from Belarus.  Why?  No clue, I don't ask questions anymore.  

Day 33: The Cat Convention

Today I had no coat.  Because yesterday it got puked on.  Luckily it wasn't so cold.  But I didn't want to travel too far in case it suddenly got really cold or started to snow.  Both of those things did happen.

I went to this place called "The Loft Project."  It's filled with art and artsy shops and vegan food.  St. Petersburg is the Portland of Russia I've concluded.  While I was there, there were people lined up at the fourth floor buying tickets to enter somewhere.  I saw a sign that said 100 Rubles which is about $1.50 so I figured I'd go in and see what all the fuss was about despite having no idea what I was buying a ticket to.

Turn out, it was a cat convention.  A convention for cats.  People spent money, unfortunately myself included, to walk around and stare at various cats in cages.  Cats.  The kind you can see on the street.  Let me reiterate: money, to see cats.  There was a lady with a microphone talking about the cats to a crowd of intrigued men, women, and children.  Very randomly as well, there were some raccoons in cages.  It was the strangest thing, ever.  I paid money to see cats.  Oh by he way, I HATE CATS.  Now, I understand, cats have a special significance in Russia's historical culture, but really?  A cat convention?  CATS.  I'm definitely in the Portland of Russia.

Day 32: Petersburg Pub Crawl

This morning, I decided to go to the museum of anomalies.  This is Russia's first museum, and its curator was none other than Peter the Great.  Good ole' Pete wanted to collect the bodies, fetuses, and remains of human and animal deformities and abnormalities in order to educate his people.  He wanted to diffuse the fear associated with such things. I'm not convinced this is the way things turned out.  This museum had the potential to be in line with The Mutter Museum in Philly.  Buuuttt, it was just alright.  It was just one room of deformed dead babies stuffed into jars filled with formaldehyde.  Not enough to impress me!

I headed on to the Peter Fortress which was pretty cool.  I found these high school kids sliding down the wooden observation desk because it had iced over.  I followed suit.  Probably not my best idea and I was wet for the rest of the cold cold damp day.

I ended at the Museum of Political History.  This museum was awesome.  However, it was incredibly confusing to navigate.  It seemed everywhere I went I was going backward.  And why?  I kept trying and trying to reorient myself to no avail.  So I just walked backwards through time.  I'm a little confused about Russia's political history.

Tonight, I decided to go on a pub crawl.  What a decision.  I met an Australian couple and a bunch of cute fun Russian people.  I decided to make myself the star of this pub crawl and I got plastered at the first bar.  They kept giving out free shots.  It wouldn't stop.  I was concerned people wouldn't drink them and they would be wasted, the shots instead of the people I mean.  I took this problem head on and headed to the second bar ten shots in.

The next bar had us drink shots with no hands.  Done.  And then I chugged a beer.  We went to the next bar where body shots were involved.  My friend Agus helped me with this one.  Then I found out that Angus hates gay people and we almost got into a fight.  My Aussie friend Travis held me back.

Finally we got to the club.  Another Coyote Ugly.  My Aussie friends were sick and they were asking me to help them home.  Like I was the grand expert of St. Petersburg.  Of course I helped them.  The girl, Flur, threw up on my coat.  And my new Russian friend Philippe walked me home.  I was plastered.  I got back to my hostel and runkenly (and likely very loudly) asked the hostel guy to wash my coat.  He said "Of course!  Anything can happen in St. Petersburg!"  And then I cooked all of the pasta in the world.  So much pasta.  Literally so much pasta.  And I ate it on my bed.  At one point I lost my fork and was trying to explain this to a guy in my room that I lost my fork and he couldn't figure it out.  I didn't end up finding it.  I am starting to think I need someone to keep me on a lease.