trainspotting

Another day trip to Petersburg meant another pair of train rides.  I thought I would write a bit about the experience of traveling by train in Russia, as it's an essential part of the country's everyday culture that's virtually unheard of in the U.S.  While plane and automobile use are increasing all the time, the train is still far and away the dominant form of travel in Russia.  It's something that nearly every single Russian will experience at some point in his or her life, and a common occurrence for many.

The train (and especially the Russian train) is almost an inherently social activity, lacking the privacy of automobile travel and the relative brevity of air travel.  This effect is magnified when one rides "na platzkartye," the term for third-class accommodations.  The platzkart is arguably a cultural concept unto itself, though not necessarily for good reasons--a quick Google search for "platzkart" returns a considerable list of sites that include the word "infamous" in their description of the term.  So why is it so infamous?  Observe:

The third-class wagon is a completely open sleeper car that seats around 65 people.  While it's hard to tell in the picture above, the "cabins" on the left each contain four bunks, two high, two low.  The right side features one high and one low bunk that stretch longways down the spine of the car (the little tables fold down).  One can start to imagine how such an arrangement would afford the reputation it's earned at the prospect of taking a 15-, 30-, or 60-hour train ride with 64 of your soon-to-be closest friends.  This is especially true when compared to second-class, which features locking compartments with just four travelers each.

Despite most Russians' preference for second-class, however--most who ride platzkart don't do so by choice--I actually prefer it to second-class.  For one, it affords more flexibility in what kind of train experience you want.  If you want to talk and drink all night with your fellow travelers, there will certainly always be something to share a drink (or seven) with.  If you want to read quietly and get some sleep, however, you can do that too, as the large number of riders allows for much more anonymity.  The latter is usually my chosen travel strategy.  I say this not because I'm anti-social, but because I've learned that even a simple "Hello" can lead to a seven-hour conversation that can potentially last until the wee hours of the morning.  And I'm usually taking a night train and want my sleep.  And I'm anti-social.

My last train ride, however, was an evening train that left in the afternoon and got in around midnight, so I decided to strike up a conversation with one of my bunk mates.  True to form, we ended talking for a few hours, but I did also get in a more than healthy nap, so I got the best of both worlds.  My new friend, Alexei, was a very interesting sort.  He's quite the intimidating chap, a good few inches taller than me and built like an ox.  He has a rather insistent quality, which would be alarming if he weren't so friendly, and he proudly showed me his military identification card from when he was in the service.  In short, he seemed the kind of guy you wouldn't want to mess with about ten years ago.

Like so many Russians I meet, he has a much softer side behind his stern appearance.  He quoted a few stanzas of poetry to me from memory when he saw I was reading Lermontov.  He insisted on sharing his tea and bread rolls with me, and showed me some pictures of his four year-old son even more proudly than he did his military papers.  When we got off the train, he suggested (read: gently insisted) that we share a taxi.  And even though my apartment was on the way to his, he told the driver to drop us both off at his building, after which we got in his car so he could drive me home.  While the experience was a bit strange, it was emblematic of one of the best qualities of the Russian people: they are fiercely generous and highly endearing.  Naturally, before parting we exchanged phone numbers.    He called me today with an invitation I wouldn't necessarily have expected from my new barrel-chested ex-military friend.

Next week we're going ice skating.