March 30, 2001 (Day 23): Trans-Mongolian Express, East of Krasnoyarsk – 1.20pm (Moscow time)
The train has just begun moving again after a 2.5 hour unscheduled stop. We pulled away from the Krasnoyarsk station and then halted. The stop was harsh or sudden. Rather, it felt like we sped up, slowly decelerated, and then glided to a halt. And there we stayed. No one seemed particularly upset. The provodnists were not alarmed. Everyone alternated between looking out the windows and reading or playing cards, the same things that they would have been had we been moving. A few uniformed officials (policeman and emergency response personnel, presumably) walked past our window, followed by a group of kids. No one moved with any particular urgency.
Once the train began moving again, we saw groups of police and spectators clustered on either side of the train. On the port side, there was also a cameraman in the group around the “scene” – leading to the conclusion that there had been some kind of accident. I doubt that it had anything to do with our train.
Reality TV is apparently big in Russia as well. One of the articles in the English-language Russian newspapers talked about a popular television show called “Road Patrol,” which consists primarily of explicit footage of gruesome automobile accidents.
I wandered past our malodorous neighbor’s cabin on my way to the toilet. The open door revealed that our fellow traveler had positioned his monkey in the chair opposite him, as though they were participating in a discussion of events from the day’s news. They could be equal participants for all I know.
We heard Felix the Monkey Man enter the shower cabinet a couple of times, but he never runs the water, not even in the sink. He didn’t try the lock on our door, so we suspect he wasn’t trying to work up the courage to introduce himself. I can only guess what he was doing in there. I suspect either a) he was looking for a bit of privacy away from the prying eye of the monkey or b) he has never seen plumbing and was trying to ascertain its usage. Considering how potent the scent that seeps into our cabin, I encourage his experimentation with the equipment. When we get a draft from his cabin, I have to lean over to confirm I am not the source of the smell.
The terrain outside the window has changed from prairie to forested hills. According to our guidebook, we are in the center of logging in Russia. It also seems to be getting colder again. There is more snow on the ground and less unfrozen water. The skies are back to a deep gray.
Editor’s note: Excerpts from Anna’s journal included.
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