sofasurfers

So in precisely 12 hours (and GMT+10 Hours), I shall be escaping this life-void to step right into an Ambassador’s Reception - yes, my Vladivostok host is a ‘CS city ambassador’. I have great hopes, not least for a washing machine (matters are now desperate) + to be really spoiled with chocolate.

So the Chinese couple departed in the night - secretly, I was hoping they would go because if they were to stay,  it would mean that it was normal to turn on the lights at 4am, chatter loudly, and slurp food as if 20 elephants were sloshing through a swamp. And of course I couldn’t possibly complain after their fruit bounty. Now, with just one Russian woman in my cabin, I have entered some kind of retreat: somehow the women aren’t friendly like the men. Still, I guess these retreats  are supposed to be good for you.

All aboard the Vladivostok Express! I’ve had to pull out my China guide early, as my cabin companions are a young Chinese couple. So far i’ve only grasped ‘hello’, ‘what’s your name?’ and ‘thank you’ - not enough to confirm that they have traveled from Moscow, but they seem fully literate in the Russian practice of sharing all one’s provisions (here an egg, some melon and an apple). Or perhaps one can also hope for such kindness in China…

So I’m now on my train journey from Novosibirsk to Ulan Ude - we left at 1am, it’s now 3am and we arrive on the afternoon of the 24th - it’s a good 1,000 miles.. I say ‘we’ for I have made some new friends. So I walk into my berth to find two burly middle-aged russkis on the bottom bunk - Ollie and I have been travelling second class (4-berth), taking the top bunks so our nickables are less nickable. I enter my first solo journey a bit anxious. But the signs are not all bad. There’s no vodka on the little table for starters - just a box of Lipton Taste of London teabags and some sugar cubes. ‘Chai?’, says one, gruffly. ‘Da!’ And so begins a most unlikely yet cockle-warming friendship. Exchanging my increasingly clammy dictionary between us, from top bunk to bottom bunk, I learn that Sacha (the Defender, as he calls himself) drives a truck and comes from Dikson, a port on Russia’s north coast. Does my mother not worry about me? Well, I explain, she’s off on her own adventure, to Antarctica. It’s in our genes. How long are you away? Do you have a Kazakh dictionary? I’ll buy one. Do I like the countryside? Would I like to be a visitor touristski to Dikson? Da! In summer maybe. You get the picture - that cultural curiosity and a genuine sense of humanity keeps us up long past bedtime. Perhaps I’m being naïve? Possibly, but given the earnestness of dictionary examination, and the long considered pauses before asking, ‘but what about…?, this feels more like fatherly concern (have you eaten? Have these wafers! No thanks. Have these wafers! Ok!).
If nothing else, being on my own has seen me speak more Russian. In two hours than in the rest of the trip put together. Off to bed now, feeling not so alone.*

* That I am so puzzled by my berth buddies’ instinctive hospitality strikes me that it’s me (a sorry product of London) who is uncivilised here; Londoners don’t behave like this because it’s each man for himself.

Losing things is the occupational hazard of any traveller. As lessons are learnt from treasures lost, no vessel of public transport is left without a cursory glance backwards to scan for personal effects that have strayed from one’s hold, no couch bid farewell without peeking at its underbelly. But last night I lost the most valuable companion of all - the one that I would forsake all others for. Yes - sadly, so sadly - Ollie has had to fly home for urgent medical attention for his leg. So while I feel like I have lost a limb, Ollie has gone home to look after his.

You see, up till now, Ollie had been stoically striding forth despite akiing off a mountain in February, breaking his leg in 10 places, requiring a titanium plate and pins to be fitted. He’d come travelling with the blessing of his consultant and plenty of pills and resourcefulness, regularly elevating his leg and cooling a large swelling upon it with anything remotely cold…. Here a mineral water bottle on the Trans-Siberian from Ekaterinburg to Novosibirsk - our (my) current location and Russia’s third largest city (large enough for Putin to be visiting today, no less - I passed by his police protection motorcade in a tram this morning). Anyway, back to Ollie…

It was obvious that he needed to get his leg checked out. With some serendipity, our fourth couch - in Novosibirsk - happened to belong to a newly qualified doctor, who works at an ‘emergency station’. And so, last night, we went to Russian A&E - not because we believed we were necessarily in an emergency, but because our doctor knew this was the most efficient route.

So, while I waited within a tableau vivant of rather un-vivant Russians (mostly male, with mostly alcohol-related concerns) groaning and grumbling, wretching and wailing, Ollie had his swelling punctured. Eventually he returned to the waiting area, in just his pants and hiking boots - his trousers and any colour in his face both departed: “I have to fly home.” Suddenly it was an emergency - his wound was infected and there was a chance that his bone could go that way too. So at 7 o’clock this morning, Ollie flew to London - of course, not without his eternally sunny spirit. The last bulletin before he took off read: “The air stewardess just had to rip a hidden can of beer out of the hands of the man on the plane seat in front of me because he’s drinking before take-off. He looks like Rumplestiltskin and she looks like Sharon off Eastenders. Quite a tug of war. Niet. Da. Niet. Da…”

Quite how sunny things will be without him remain in the hands of future couchsurfing hosts - I am utterly bereft, but at least I won’t be alone for long… We were blessed to have caught Ollie’s infection so quickly. I am trying to channel Ollie’s optimism and working extra hard on the travel karma, and of course, sending all that　ｉ　ｈａｖｅ　ｂａｃｋ　ｔｏ　ｈｉｍ　ｆｏｒ　ａ　ｓｐｅｅｄｙ　ｒｅｃｏｖｅｒｙ．　Ａｎｄ　ｎｏｗ　Ｉ　ｈａｖｅ　ｄｏｎｅ　ｓｏｍｅｔｈｉｎｇ　ｔｏ　ｍｙ　ｃｏｍｐｕｔｅｒ　ａｎｄ　ｎｏｗ　Ｏｌｌｉｅ　ｉｓ　ｎｏｔ　ｈｅｒｅ　ｔｏ　ｈｅｌｐ　ｉｎ　ｍｙ　ｂｌｏｎｄｅ　ｍｏｍｅｎｔｓ！！！！