It's Russian Tradition!

Mar 10

Before our initial embarkation on the Trans-Siberian Railroad, we stocked up on nuts and dried fruits, bread, meat and cheese (which I forgot in the hostel refrigerator...oops!), instant coffee, boiled garlic-and-dill potatoes (what else would you want to eat in an enclosed space?!), and cookies to share if we felt inclined to make friends on our journey.

Moments before we headed out of our hostel in Vladivostok, Aleksei and a new friend came storming into the hostel, both panting and anxious. Aleksei had his arms overflowing with a cake, five large chocolate bars, a box of local bird's milk candies and was ranting about the previous night. Apparently he had lost Alexander at some point in their shenanigans, but he said they both wished me the happiest of birthdays as he handed me the endless goodies.

Caitlin, me and Aleksei before we left

His new friend commented that they had stayed up all night searching for the chocolate and making the cake, a joke (judging by their breath) but an insanely kind gesture. We exchanged hugs and thank yous as they sat down for their morning beer.

We bid our hostel buddies adieu and headed for the train, now laden with enough sweets to start our own confectionery.

Birthday booty courtesy of our wonderful new friends

Before we boarded the train, we befriended the women (using our ever popular charades and newly acquired chocolate bars) who would be in charge of our train car for the next few days. We took our obligatory pictures getting on the train and had them laughing at us in no time - a skill that we have refined in our brief time in Russia.

Tickets (and cake) in hand - ready to board!

Getting a Russian to crack a smile is about as easy as getting a German to cross the road when the traffic light is red.

Best done intoxicated.

Or as in our case, using chocolate as a bribe. Little did we realize that with our two new friends we had instantly gained two solid guardians.

First leg of our adventure: Vladivostok to Irkutsk

When we got settled in, Caitlin surprised me with birthday pastries and candles and we laughed about how interesting this experience was going to be.

Birthday celebration TSR-style.

And it was.

After the first leg of our adventure (4105 km and 72 hours into the TSR), I feel it's necessary to point out a few things.

Frozen Siberia: Queen Elsa to blame

First of all,

Caitlin can not smell

. She does not, and never has, experienced this sense. (Neither does my old roommate, Jenny. One of our kitchen pots can attest to this because it sat burning on our stovetop one afternoon while they were in the kitchen only to be freaked out by our third roommate when she ran in and thought the apartment was on fire, only to find Jen and Caitlin leisurely chatting while the pot and its contents smoldered quietly in the background.)

View down the traincar

I openly acknowledge the friend:sense of smell ratio that I've got going on.

I've apparently become a smelly kid. But a scent-handicapped friend is just the kind of person you want to be with when you know you'll be particularly smelly.

On a trip like this, like in most parts of life, her lack of smell is a blessing and a curse. Blessing because she can't smell the oh-so-interesting scents that are associated with living without a shower for three days & nights, nor the day-old vodka on some of our fellow passenger's breath. Curse because she can't smell said passengers as they sneak up behind her eager to chat and become new friends. I, on the other hand, can smell this impending friendship from down the rail car, to which I'm apt to reply with Amy Poeler's wonderfully optimistic response "No, thank you, please!"

Little buddy who shared our raisins with us.

Next fun fact:

We are in third class

, the lowest (and most economical!) class available for any foreigner on such a trek. That means we get to sleep in a space that is a table by day and a bed by night. It's surprisingly comfortable and has afforded us the opportunity to see firsthand other people's personal habits (think kid peeing into a bucket) as well as to learn how to make a table into a bed. Never stop learning, people.

Next fact:

Russians are insanely generous and friendly

. (Editors note: this usually directly correlates with their level of intoxication. But who cares? Friendly is friendly!)

Another day, another Russian kiss!

During our time on the train, we busied ourselves making copious amounts of instant coffee, reading, staring out the window across frozen Siberia, playing cards and learning about Russia (both theoretically and in real life).

One such lesson, on "Russian Traditions", was gratuitously provided to us by a few local individuals of a particularly smelly breed. I'd say they fell somewhere between homemade moonshine and plastic bottle vodka.

Delicious cabbage and meat bundles

They approached and shook my hand while Caitlin was unfortunately on the other side of the car. He asked to take our picture and I (obviously) laughed and said sure. This was going to be good.

He left and returned with two large chocolate bars and his camera, and we took the picture and giggled at how funny and strange the interaction was. All he could say afterwards was "It's Russian tradition!" while we all gave each other the thumbs up sign and exchanged awkward smiles.

Cool, great, wonderful:

we're all about learning and enjoying Russian traditions! We returned to our seats and assumed that they would do the same. You know what they say about assumptions...

Over the next two hours he and his friends brought us sweet bread, beer, pears, a (rather grubby) handful of sunflower seeds, tea, and even more bars of chocolate whilst trying, overwhelmingly unsuccessfully, to repeatedly kiss our hands and faces while interjecting their key phrase as they saw fit. I had already been surprise kiss-attacked by an old man in the hallway on our first day, and was enjoying watching Caitlin endure the same

traditional

love.

I will absolutely never forget Caitlin diving behind her book and literally wiggling into the window to avoid this man who had fallen fatally in love with her. Think 50ish, short, and oh-so-intoxicated. He also attempted to slide into her seat with her. My only regret: that I was laughing far too hard to take a picture.

Later, we heard them snoring and one of Caitlin's lover's friends had passed out with a piece of bread inches from his mouth (So close, buddy!); when we woke up the next morning, they were gone.

The ones that got away...sigh...

The following day, the man who had sat next to us for the previous 36 hours and watched our love attacks without intervening (thanks for nothing, Switzerland) was leaving, and despite my aggressive, continuous attempts to befriend him with our cookies he had not mumbled more than a few words during our time together.

Sliced meat (including boiled beef tongue) and caviar dinner. Cause we're fancy.

Minutes before the train stopped, he began animatedly speaking to us and pointing out of the window.

Something-something, Chita (the city we were approaching), something-something Decemberists.

Then he scribbled "1917" in my notebook with a small picture of a church, followed by "30 mins". That was enough to convince us that he knew what was going on.

Caitlin and I were eager to get off of the train for a quick break (I mean we had only been on the train for 48 hours...) so we hopped off and looked around, only to be anxiously called over by our new friend. He wanted us to follow him. Away from the train. And our bags. And our passports. So without a second thought we literally ran after him.

Following our new friend out of the train station

He took us across a square and a few busy streets until finally we were in front of a beautiful orthodox church. He waved for us to give him our camera and took a bunch of pictures of us before running us back to the train.

Chita church selfie!

It was an incredibly random, but amazing surprise. I'm still slightly mad that he never took us up on the cookie offer though.

During our brief time in Russia, we've met people who have given us food, helped us learn the TSR ropes, walked us through translations, laughed with (or more accurately at) us, shared their stories, attempted to help us in many ways, and gone out of their way to be overwhelmingly kind to us.