Notes from the Overground

This blog is to document my substantial journey via the railway across Russia, Mongolia and China.

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Trans-Siberian tomorrow...

Tomorrow, I board the first Trans-Siberian train from Moscow to Irkutsk - with a running time of four days, approximately. It'll be an interesting journey and, since I enjoy the art of apathy and comfort (albeit, not the best), a relaxing one - I hope. I was exhausted from the earlier hours of today when we awoke from our 8-hour train journey, and went to the hotel. About forty minutes after that - during which we settled, briefly, in our rooms - we set off for Moscow, to my slight irritation. I had wanted to settle in for longer because my legs were killing me from the previous day (Church of Spilled Blood, where I got scammed by two pretty ladies, the famous Hermitage and then the train station) but what can you do? I visited the Red Square, which was quite remarkable - though I know very little of its history. I walked around there for a bit, independently of anybody else because I had grown tired and chose to sit down quite a lot, and then went out again. Like all of my days in Russia, the weather has been beautiful but scorching. My dad, unfortunately, has passed on to me a disadvantage of sweating an excessive amount. I have had to result to tissues in order to wipe it away, which have been used more for this reason than problems concerning my nose. This latter issue has picked up recently with nose bleeds. I've had three now so far, and they are likely to increase in both frequency and amount. I was intending to see St Basil's Cathedral before I left Moscow but exhaustion got the better of me and so I saw I from afar instead, as one of my pictures shows. I left on the Metro, before anybody else, and returned to my room on the 16th floor. It was a blissful collapse onto my bed. I've been here since two in the afternoon (now it's nearly ten in the evening), with the exception of a couple of visits to the supermarket to stock up on water for the train tomorrow. Now, I just wait. I won't need to walk far for the next few days, which is good and bad. It's bad because I'll likely be stiff at the end of it all. I've already said why it'll be good.

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Basil!

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Outside the window...

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On the train....

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First train

About to depart for my first journey on the rails from St Petersburg to Moscow, which is an 8-hour long train journey in a third-class cabin. Wish me luck!

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Church of Spilled Blood

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Some building on Nevsky Propekt...

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Wednesday 23rd July 2014 (2)

Diary entry: 'Pleasant unexpectancies are rare for me. I will not deny that I have had many surprises resulting in shock, excitement, and high-pitched screams - or, in the negative sense, disappointment - but PLEASANT surprises? Not common, especially for a man presumptive enough to expect the pleasant, like myself who is spoiled enough to enjoy such moments. Yet, today had such an occurrence. I arrived at Pulkovo Airport, later than expected (I'm still wondering whether the pilot said two hours forty or three hours forty), and it was quite a swift process through Passport Control and Baggage Reclaim. I found the taxi desk, appearing as soon as I went through the 'Nothing To Declare' doorway, and approached the attendant: enunciating my voice to enable her to understand my nervous English. She was quite young and attractive, though I ashamedly forgotten the details of her facial features. Did she wear glasses? I think she might have done. Most striking of all was the tortuous chain around her neck leading to a figure of a crucified Christ - seeming wedged between a cleavage that was difficult to divert my attention from: not only because of the obvious reasons but also through the poetic juxtaposition better religion and lack of concealment. Was it deliberate? I doubt it, though I enjoy the possible ambiguity. She gave me the number of the cab that would take me to the Hotel Anabel in Nevsky Propekt... but in Russian. I gave the affirmative (not sure why) and she quickly realised her error - repeating the instructions in English. She told me to exit the building and find the taxi numbered 286 on the first road (of two). I left her and passed over that Hollywood threshold where many drivers held up their various placards containing the customer's name. Before crossing that line, however, a group of construction workers wearing high-visibility jackets were pushing four wheelbarrows that all had a form of soil-like substance - probably a form of concrete. It was quite a bizarre sight: suitcases crossing paths with wheelbarrows indoors. Once I found the taxi - observing closely at each number on each cab - I looked out the window and saw the reason for those construction workers: a simple renovation on a certain section of the airport. There were many scaffolds and constructive skeletons around the airport as we drove away.'

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Wednesday 23rd July 2014 (1)

Diary entry (on the plane): 'It has been long since I've sat in a plane without the delicious luxury of a television screen fixed in front of me. Since this particular plane journey, flying from London Heathrow to Polkhovo Airport in Saint Petersberg, is a short one the inclusion of digital entertainment is agreeably superfluous. This flight is supposed to be two hours and forty minutes long: much shorter than was anticipated. I still haven't figured out the logistics in transporting your current Writer from the airport to the hotel - nor how much it will cost, nor the location of such services. I'll take a taxi (as per Mum's advice) to Hotel Anabel in Nevsky Prospekt, which will require perception on my part for locating the taxi desk, or queue, within the airport. With my luck, the signs will be print in the dreaded Cyrillic alphabet, which even translated into the traditional ABCs will make no sense to me. I must admit: my traditional sponge of a consciousness still hasn't soaked up the fact of my recent travelling endeavours. Although I'm on the plane, inching at ridiculous speeds, toward this infamous sect of Asia, my heart has not sunken straight to the ground as of yet. My departure from the house, my home, was fairly anti-climactic compared to the poetic obscurity in setting off for New Zealand. I had to wake up at four o'clock in the morning (or thereabouts) and prepare to leave the house at five-thirty - when the regular Stewart Newport would come to pick me up and drop me off. I gave a great many hugs to my Mum, as well as a pointless one from Dad: he preferred a handshake and, quite frankly, so did I. They gave the usual lectures of staying safe, as any decent parent should, and said their goodbyes. Stewart drove me to Heathrow and I waited around for two hours or so for the gate to open. I bought a padlock for my suitcase and failed in my apathetic attempt in searching for a shower head. The guide book recommended bringing one for the train but Mum, in one of our texting conversations, said I should borrow one from another traveller. Hopefully, permission will be given...

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Local cuisine

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Tomorrow's departure

It has slightly sunken the beating thump-thump-thump thing under my chest to realise that my departure date is tomorrow morning. 

I will have to wake up at roughly four o'clock in the morning - ready to be driven to the airport by five-thirty - to begin my long, slightly perilous (if you want to be all Indiana Jones about it) journey across Asia. I still have jobs to do to ensure a moderately safe trip: photocopy passport and visas, buy diarrhoea medication, pack my suitcase, pack my backpack, check-in online for my flight, finish GOD IS NOT GREAT by Christopher Hitchens (foreseeing the risk in taking such a polemic book into a silenced motherland) and do everything else that needs to be done.

I'll attempt to post on a regular basis but I am uncertain of the amount of Wi-Fi that I will receive - particularly on the train itself. Like my previous New Zealand blog, it is likely to consist of entries I have made in my journal but I will try to post exclusive material such as photos taken and video captured. I've already made a few entries, so I'll make an effort to post those today. 

Well, that's about it for now. Go back to your lives.