Reaching that Volgograd station - after 42 hours of travelling

I relearned a hard lesson yesterday. Do not attempt to write a blog posting directly into Blogger. It doesn't autosave, or it didn't yesterday, so when I left the page to answer a message I lost the whole lot. So today I'm sitting on my bed waiting for the rest of the household to wake up so that we can go to Starbucks for breakfast, and entering this posting into Evernote. I'm not sure how much I'll get done, and I'm so far behind already! So this is a somewhat abbreviated version of what I wrote yesterday.

It's a long journey from Moscow to Volgograd by train. It's a long journey punctuated by several stops. The first one of note was at Узуново,  Uzunovo, and lasted for approximately forty-five minutes.  Although I didn't realise it at the time this stop provided passengers an opportunity to get off the train to stretch their legs, have a smoke or replenish their stocks of food and drink for the rest of the journey. I didn't realise it because it was quite dark and I couldn't see the small wooden shed from which one could buy supplies.

Plenty of beer and vodka for the journey - you missed your opportunity then.

No. Alcohol is not allowed to be consumed on Russian trains. When I took the miniature bottle of vodka, saved from the flight to Moscow,  out of my pocket Iraida told me in no uncertain terms to put it away. I was surprised because a whole box of wine had been consumed by the Brunettes on the train from St.Petersburg to Moscow last year.

Nudge, nudge, wink, wink. Say no more!

Once we were under way again Iraida took  charge of preparing the bunks /berths for sleeping. On the vacant upper berths were packets of freshly laundered bed linen and towels as well as rolled up mattresses, blankets and a pillow. Moving me from my side to hers Iraida then proceeded to unroll my mattress and then fitted one of the sheets around it She then spread out the top sheet and popped the pillow into its case. There are advantages in being old and travelling with a young friend!

There are also disadvantages about being 184 cm tall and travelling 3rd class. The first is that there is just, I repeat just enough space to sit upright on the lower berth. There is just not enough space to fit the same 184 cm long person lying straight on the berth, so that feet protrude into the passageway. This means that apart from a few seconds for stretching out I hand to assume a semi-foetal position for the rest of the time. It also means that any necessary journeys to the end of the carriage need to be undertaken very carefully, so as not to walk into someone's feet. The lower bunks aren't too bad but those in the upper bunks have their feet protruding at just about head height.

Interesting.

Indeed.

We had one more major stop when a small group of young soldiers in their fatigues boarded the train. Two of them had been allotted the two bunks above us. They stowed away their rucksacks,  having first changed from their boots into regulation Croc style green sandals with the issue number neatly  painted on in white.  They then disappeared for a while, probably to eat and drink tea with their colleagues.

Drink tea. Nudge, nudge, wink, wink, say no more!

No that's what they would be drinking. This wasn't the 17.35 from Edinburgh to London.

It seemed like the evening and night were lasting for ever, but finally it was time to really try to sleep. It should have been easy seeing that it was now almost two days since I had snatched a few hours before setting off from home. It wasn't. It was too hot. Eventually exhaustion took over and I managed about 3 or 4 hours off and on. As we had left Moscow and at various parts of the journey there was snow about. When we awoke on Thursday morning and peered outside at the passing landscape there was no snow at all.

Looks like those snow boots were a really sound investment then.

Mmm.

Once awake we breakfasted on bread with ham and cheese, followed by the remains of what we had the night before. Tea tastes different out of the stakhan. There might have been some chocolate and a couple of mini Kit Kate too.

Having eaten we had to unmake our beds and stow away the mattresses and pillows. All of the bed linen had to be returned to the carriage attendant to be checked and then sent off to be laundered. Then it was time to sit and wait.

We were due to reach Volgograd station at 08.25, so we fully expected to be there at exactly that moment. As we got closer I realised how big a city it is.  I asked Iraida if she knew if we would see Mamaev Kurgan and the huge statue of Mother Russia on the way in to the station. Before she had the chance to answer there it was in the distance, on the left of the train. It is an amazing sight. As we swung round into the city we realised that the train would actually pass quite close and that we would see Мать Родная from our side of the train. Photographs were taken.

It wasn't long afterwards that the train drew to a halt in Volgograd station. I had managed to change my T-shirt, consigning a perspiration and salt-marked Beth Hart to my hand luggage.

Was there need for such a graphic description. If I was about to have a meal I would feel quite queasy.

Well I'm about to be served a meal on the return flight from Moscow Domodyedovo to London Heathrow  and it's not putting me off at all. I have washed my feet in public and slept among 50 strangers , I  have no fears and very few inhibitions.

So, back to Volgograd. The exit through the station  building was closed so we made our way through a busy platform to an alternative way out. There were several groups of young men in a variety of military uniforms, certainly the army and navy was represented. It was quite moving really as they were clearly saying their goodbyes to families and girl friends. Hopefully they were just off for some training, or to start their national service, but thé image remind me of similar scenes captured in images over the years.

The station building itself is still being repaired and restored after it was badly damaged by a suicide bomber back in December 2013, a terrorist attack resulting in considerable loss of life but which was scarcely reported in British media.

I had taken the precaution of reserving the hotel shuttle taxi to pick us up and take us to the Hampton by  Hilton Hotel on Profsoyuznaya Street. It cost the very reasonable price of 325r, about £3.50 and was worth every penny. A comfortable ride in a leather seated 8 seater vehicle. It's only a short journey, but not having to ring for the right taxi and wait for it to arrive was a real bonus.

We were in Volgograd! I had left home at 13.45 on Tuesday 1st December  and arrived in Volgograd at 08.30  on Thursday, 3rd December. That's pretty close to that 42 hours!

What about the time difference? Doesn't that make it shorter?

There are times when I wish you just weren't there. My song said 42 hours, 42 hours to reach my destination, and you're going to quibble about time difference. I've learned some Russian swear words this week, so be careful, very careful.