The monotonous rattle of the old train on the trans Siberian tracks reflects the monotony of the flat but verdant landscape as far as the eye can see. The vista is punctuated by the poles supporting the power cables parallel to the track. In the distance there are scattered copses of birch trees. In the winter this must be a white monochrome. Everybody has heard of Siberia. For us it represents the middle of nowhere, a frozen wilderness. Those of us who grew up in the cold war are likely to have read Alexander Solzhenitsyn’s Nobel Prize Winning book “A day in the life of Ivan Denisovitch” and the cruel and grim stories of political prisoners and intellectual dissidents imprisoned in concentration camps called “gulags” throughout Siberia.
I have 2 1/2 days non stop in another old train trundling through the steppes through cities such as Omsk and Novosibirsk before getting off at Irkutsk. There is almost no English spoken on board but mercifully there is a restaurant car so food is not an issue and the washrooms while not exactly the cleanest are nowhere near the worst I have seen on my travels. I am getting used to the routines. I can read the timetable on the wall now even though it is written in Cyrillic Russian and know the stops where I can get off and wander the platform and buy from the kiosk. I have deliberately chosen second class 4 berth cabins to try to meet more people. Of course no one speaks any English and, strangely, this leg I am in a cabin with three women.
Roll on Irkutsk where I have a few days sightseeing at Lake Baikal and the prospect of a nice shower!