The Train to Murmansk

I have unequivocally decided that trains are the best way to travel. Over the last two weeks, I have been zipping around Russia and Ukraine, going to sleep in one city, and waking up in another. What it lacks in physical comfort, the train makes up for in friendly company, constant people-watching, a fuller wallet, and general ease. Surprisingly perhaps, the train is actually pretty comfortable. The approximate 75 hours that I have spent on a train in the last week have all been in the Russian train equivalent of economy class, pluscarte. These cheap open compartments have 3 sets of bunk beds, and generally allow the six people occupying them to move freely about the train car. The only complaints that one might have are the simple facts that Russians snore like a herd of elephants and, well, the bathroom, quite frankly, is not a bastion of cleanliness. I was prepared for both of those inevitabilities, however, by arming myself with a fully charged, freshly synced iPod and a good lung capacity.

Also, something lovely, though perhaps disconcerting, about Russian trains is the complete lack of overt security. I, perhaps like most Americans, have gotten accustomed to the sometimes invasive measures that have been taken to ensure the security of transportation systems within the US. But, here in Russia, the only thing between me and the confined space of a train car, is a single metal detector that is ignored by the one guard who practically naps next to it. Yes, of course, there are police officers milling about, and I am sure that cameras are watching everywhere for suspicious activity, but it is not anything close to TSA. Most importantly, I certainly felt safe, regardless of the appearance of the situation. It was simply interesting that a country where terrorism is constantly an issue is seemingly lax when it comes to a busy, state owned transport system.

When I first boarded the 36 hour train from Moscow to Murmansk, I was a bundle of nerves. One of our group, for some random Russian bureaucratic reason, had not been able to board the train and was now sprinting down the platform to buy a new ticket. She, and another from our group, would later miss the train, catch a new one, and make it to Murmansk in one piece, but even though everything was figured out in the final minutes of cell phone reception, the whole situation had us a more than a little worried about our bad luck so early in the trip. Then, we met Paulina.

A pensioner originally from Moldova, Paulina was returning to Murmansk, the city where she had lived and worked most of her life. Paulina not only had a calming influence on those of us who were freaking out a bit at having to temporarily abandon our two friends on a train platform, but also Paulina had a rule: no English. I swear, if I spent about a week on a train with Paulina, I would be speaking perfect fluent Russian. A constant refrain of “You are in Russia! You must speak Russian!” was heard in our compartment.

After the first few hours of the trip, it became obvious that she had adopted her bunk mates, me and my companions, as her children for the duration of the voyage. She fussed as we incorrectly made our beds and insisted that she do it herself. She told us about the bus system in Murmansk, and made sure that our hotel was a decent establishment. She even made sure we were eating properly. My friend Brian was constantly causing little Russian mother outbreaks from her since A) He only brought one loaf of bread for the whole 36 hour trip, and B) He was eating it while laying down, which is not only bad for a person’s health, but also gets crumbs all over the sheets. By the end of the trip, she was forcing food on Brian, which he accepted gladly, since, of course, she was right. That loaf of bread did not last the 36 hour train ride.

Not everyone on the train, however, had an adoptive Russian mother controlling their actions, which resulted in some great people-watching. This included the soldier who polished his boots for about ten hours, the man drinking beer for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, the adorable old couple sharing meals together in the love seat and tucking each other in at night, and the teenager who put 10 heaping spoons of sugar into his tea (I counted… He finished a whole bag of sugar in one day). Also, as we left the dour, cloudy skies of Moscow and travelled north, we witnessed spectacular polar sunrises and sunsets, frozen white trees dripping with icicles, and quaint villages full of elderly women selling marinated dried fish, cranberries, little meat, cabbage, and onion pies, and ice cream to idling passengers.

After quite literally days of train riding, we exited in Murmansk at exactly 12:12, since the trains in Russia are always on time. For three days, we had wonderful adventures in the deep snows of Murmansk and the neighboring city of Kola, before we repacked our bags and settled into a new train to return south to Saint Petersburg.