sofasurfers

Latitude: 56 degrees North Longitude: 60 degrees East

As the train slows down coming into Ekaterinberg - the town where the last Tsar and his family were murdered by the Bolsheviks in 1918, and some 1,814km and 30 hours from Moscow – my heart speeds up. We’re due to meet Sasha. We know nothing about Sasha except that she doesn’t speak much English (her confirmation sms reads, “O, yeah. I,m meet your of course!”), she is about 20, and she is not a couchsurfer. She is the friend of Polly, our third Russian couchsurfing host who happens to be on holiday still. And – obviously – we have no idea what Sasha looks like. We scan the busy Friday platform for young Russian girls.

It’s a redundant task – immediately outside our carriage is a pretty young girl who could be none other than Sasha, on account of a pink, a yellow and a green balloon that she is coyly holding in the air. She sees us, we see her, and suddenly we all quite naturally find ourselves giggling together in a group hug. After a near-on physical wrestle between us and her over our bags in her insistence to help, plus a non-starter conversation about “Polly’s mother’s wife – her mother’s wife? Her mother’s wife? Da? Da?” and concomitant exchanges of quizzical looks, we head to the tram stop for the next leg, much sign language, dictionary (or “diary”) reference, and confused, yet eager communication…