My hopes for the real Russia starting with my stepping onto the train didn't exactly materialize. In my fluent Russian I have managed to book myself a ticket in the one of the newest most comfortable trains Russia has to offer. Thus now, stretched on a deep blue comfy mattress in an air-conditioned cabin I feel like a proper tourist yet again. Just to proof the point I get up and buy myself a cup of coffee.
It felt a bit strange leaving the hostel this afternoon. In the few days there I have managed to befriend the place - if such thing is possible - including it's manager (the bunny on the left) whom I couldn't resist buying a flower on my way out. Even though we haven't talked particularly much (her making out sessions introduced an understandable distance between us) she couldn't resist a kiss on my lips and I could resist a fairly explicit licking of her neck line.
Now lying down listening to Emmylou Harris and letting my thoughts wandering I can't.. And I don't.
The time says cigarette.
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What do you do on a 28 hour train ride.. you sleep. And wake up at seven o'clock to the snores of various shapes and sizes of now the only fellow passenger.
15 minutes later after no audible result of the ts-ts-ts treatment I put my headphones on hoping to distract my mind from my fellow passenger's breathing technique. It doesn't work, really.
And there it is! A few smiles exchanged with one of the provodnitsas in the first 20 hours of the journey and initiated on my side in the generally smileless environment of Russian train travel finally pay their dividend.
After dining like a tsar in an empty restaurant coach I am stopped by the lovely 30-something year old Nadjezda on the way to my cabin. She smiles conspicuously and suggests a cigarette. Being a gentleman and all I kindly accept the offer and follow her into the narrow space at the end of the corridor. We engage in a particularly peculiar conversation with both sides not having the foggiest idea of what the other one is saying.
She suggests a champagne, that much I understand. It sounds like quite a good idea and when she takes out a stash of money it suggests that she is willing to part with some of it towards the drink. Not wanting to engage until I surely now what's in store I pretend nepanimaju. And well done me, since she is just letting me know the price of the drink. 1200 rubles sounds a bit much for a budget traveller and first week into the god-knows-how-many-months-long trip. Having only 400 rubles (about 8 quid) on me she suggests a russian cognac and a coke which I am in no position to turn down. With my 400 rubles gone I make a mental note of being an idiot and hope for some value in this.
As we return to the restaurant coach and sit down I revert to my brilliantly useless Russian-Czech conversation book for ideas and combine sentences from parts of others. I cannot help a shy smile and an apologetic face but as we engage deeper into the conversation (understand we've got past introducing ourselves) my confidence grows and I put on the charming, slightly teasing and playful but perfectly-within-a-semi-formal-engagement type of smile.
I find she is from Rostov, divorced a while ago, has an 18 year old daughter - that makes me think about her age and I find myself openly checking her out. I do not waste another apologetic smile as she semi-shily throws one my direction. I keep calling her devocka - with both of us realising that is definitely not the case it adds the spark to the conversation.
Few cigarettes later, with 30 minutes left to Yekaterinburg and all of the cognac gone - the first sight of size of the bottle made me make another mental note - she takes out a pen and starts writing down her address. And telephone number. You must come to Rostov and stay with me. The added smile suggests she doesn't want to take me for a tour around the city. Although I have never been to Rostov..
15 minutes later after no audible result of the ts-ts-ts treatment I put my headphones on hoping to distract my mind from my fellow passenger's breathing technique. It doesn't work, really.
-
And there it is! A few smiles exchanged with one of the provodnitsas in the first 20 hours of the journey and initiated on my side in the generally smileless environment of Russian train travel finally pay their dividend.
After dining like a tsar in an empty restaurant coach I am stopped by the lovely 30-something year old Nadjezda on the way to my cabin. She smiles conspicuously and suggests a cigarette. Being a gentleman and all I kindly accept the offer and follow her into the narrow space at the end of the corridor. We engage in a particularly peculiar conversation with both sides not having the foggiest idea of what the other one is saying.
She suggests a champagne, that much I understand. It sounds like quite a good idea and when she takes out a stash of money it suggests that she is willing to part with some of it towards the drink. Not wanting to engage until I surely now what's in store I pretend nepanimaju. And well done me, since she is just letting me know the price of the drink. 1200 rubles sounds a bit much for a budget traveller and first week into the god-knows-how-many-months-long trip. Having only 400 rubles (about 8 quid) on me she suggests a russian cognac and a coke which I am in no position to turn down. With my 400 rubles gone I make a mental note of being an idiot and hope for some value in this.
As we return to the restaurant coach and sit down I revert to my brilliantly useless Russian-Czech conversation book for ideas and combine sentences from parts of others. I cannot help a shy smile and an apologetic face but as we engage deeper into the conversation (understand we've got past introducing ourselves) my confidence grows and I put on the charming, slightly teasing and playful but perfectly-within-a-semi-formal-engagement type of smile.
I find she is from Rostov, divorced a while ago, has an 18 year old daughter - that makes me think about her age and I find myself openly checking her out. I do not waste another apologetic smile as she semi-shily throws one my direction. I keep calling her devocka - with both of us realising that is definitely not the case it adds the spark to the conversation.
Few cigarettes later, with 30 minutes left to Yekaterinburg and all of the cognac gone - the first sight of size of the bottle made me make another mental note - she takes out a pen and starts writing down her address. And telephone number. You must come to Rostov and stay with me. The added smile suggests she doesn't want to take me for a tour around the city. Although I have never been to Rostov..
Well, well, well! I can see you are really planning on enojoying this trip:) Let´s meet the locals, have a drink, chat and we´ll see what the night brings. And where is the image gallery? Forgot how to say "Could I take a picture of you madame?" in russian???
ReplyDeleteLife is full of small challenges, as Mr.Bond used to say...and Rostov by night with hot russian mommy at your side could be one of them.
ReplyDeleteAnyway, Mr.Lekou, I´m looking for more and more ruskije advantures, keep up da good work.love your style ;-)
..russian cognac and coke doesn´t sound bad, btw.
bru, gotta love that quote! tesim sa, ze si so mnou.
ReplyDelete