Plains, Trains and Snoring

Posted by roamingreto on 7 Apr 2008 in Russia | 2 comments

Sleeping with 10 people in the same room doesn’t actually bother me. By emphasizing the word “me”. Because I know that I do perform the art of snoring occasionally when being drunk or simply very tired. Therefore, I’m quite happy that others in the room snor, too. Especially the 22 year old blonde from Indiana in the bunk above my bed has a thorough soprano voice while sleeping. So it is quite funny to watch new male arrivals trying to make contact with her before the night – and then spot their disappointment and sheer anger in their eyes during breakfast with her next morning. I came to the conclusion that men definitely prefer a quiet night – full of dreams – over good looks. Poor girl. But then again, how does my snoring compare to hers? Is mine acceptable or even worse?

Or don’t I snore at all? Should I ask my room-mates to rate my snoring?
Well, the only hint so far is the fact that everyone (including the blonde) is still talking with me. We even party together – without the blonde, though. But may be the guys are just more polite towards an old chap than a young lady? All these questions won’t be answered here in Moscow, since I am about to leave tonight on a train bound to Tashkent (Uzbekistan).

Getting that ticket was an adventure on its own. The baseline is, that the train stations in Moscow are divided by long distance destinations. Since the European/Belarus and the Siberia-serving stations are popular among tourists, it is relatively easy to get tickets for popular destinations at these train stations. They might have either an english-speaking counter or you might just get some help by other people who speak English and Russian. Mind you: When I write, that these stations are relatively easy to cope for a train ticket purchase, this means that you’ll end up in queueing at three different counters and need to set aside about two to three hours for that exercise. At least, this is consistent with all the people I met in the hostel (and even though some of them were well prepared and had written down their ticket request in Russian letters on a piece of paper beforehand).

So far, you now do know what to expect in dealing with Russian railway service for popular destinations. However, nobody in this hostel ever went the route I am undertaking – not even the old lady (Babushka) sitting like a hawk next to the hostel entrance. Which already makes me stand out like a pink dog in a supermarket.

Therefore, welcome now Roaming Reto who is entering the scene at Kazan station to perform the art of ticket buying with ten words or less of Russion. Tashkent is definitely a destination where no foreigner seems to have gone before. Will it be worse of an experience in ticket buying than the “tourist routes”? Here’s the story.

Not surprisingly, all the signs in the Kazan station building are in Russian only. And 30 ticket counters with hundreds of people waited to be challenged by my lack of Russian when I went there two days ago. As usual here in Moscow, there was no queue at all. But I do know how to use my arms and the bad staring look to fight my way forward. And since I didn’t carry enough Rubels in cash to buy the ticket, this narrowed down the list of potential counters at the station to twelve which are featuring credit card logos. That was actually a good start. I then decided to make counter number 3 my target and start to queue.

Upon realizing that it’s next my turn, I started to panic because I realized that there’s no chance to get a ticket if I wouldn’t speak the date (I have yet to learn that part of Russian). The only piece of paper at hand was the box of the Cholera vaccination which I carried with me. A second oral intake of that medecine was due that day. “Yes, there is enough whitespace on the box” and I quickly scribbled down “Tashkent”, “7-4-2008″ and “Platzkartny” (3rd class). Handing over my medicine to the old lady at the counter was met by a stare full of death-rays (Methinks: I always knew Darth Vader was a female Russian railway agent). Since I didn’t write down my request in Russian letters, I start to reiterate with a big smile “Dobra dien, bashalsta adin Tashkent, Platz”. Hey, I was proud of myself to just have learned – while waiting in the queue – that “Platz” is the shorthand for 3rd class tickets.

The ticket lady gave my request a deep thought. After a while of silence, she grabbed the Cholera package and left the counter. “Oh no, stupid me – not only won’t I get the ticket – I’m about to loose my Cholera protection!” went through my head. Luckily, two minutes later she showed up again, handed the medicine box back to me while writing “C-29″ on it. Clever Roaming Reto immediately grasped that this meant “Cassa 29″. At this moment and time I was very happy: Not only did I get back my “Cholera” – I also definitely knew which counter would issue the train ticket.

Or so – it seemed.

Welcome to Russia! Because this was just the beginning of a ping-pong journey queueing at several other counters. To make a long story short: Counter 29 could have issued the ticket – but only against cash. I was sent to counter 11 which could do both: Issue the ticket and accept credit cards. But since I’m a foreigner, I needed to present my passport with the Kazakh and Uzbek visa for inspection at counter 1 first (where I had minor problems, because my Russian registration card wasn’t yet done).

After a very entertaining four hours spent at the Kazan train station, I left with my train ticket. 2nd class though, since the ticket agent wouldn’t allow me to travel in 3rd class – for whatever reason. But I was quite proud to have obtained this piece of paper on my own. This saved me 100 Rubels (which the hostel would have charged for the service in getting the ticket for me). In fact, I was so proud and excited, that I offered myself a beer that evening (which incidentially came at 100 Rubels).

That night I went to bed a bit tired and drunk. And I learned next morning that men also give other men the evil stare… you know what I mean.

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