It started as a casual conversation. We were spending a long weekend at the coast with some good friends.
Out of the blue, my friend Dan asked me if I'd ever be interested in riding the Trans-Siberian Railroad. I didn't know if he was bluffing, but the next thing I knew, I was ordering a Lonely Planet guidebook. Seven months later, Dan and I embarked on a two week journey that included time in Moscow and Mongolia (where my son, Elijah, has lived for the past year) as well as four days and five nights on the Trans-Siberian. Following are a few 'snap shots' from our travels.
Welcome to Moscow:
Arriving at the airport in Moscow, leaving customs and scanning the proffered placards. Which one is our driver? We pre-booked a ride, so where is the 'Godzilla's Hostel' sign? Nowhere. That's okay, we're early. Until we weren't and it wasn't. I brought the hostel's phone number just in case. All that was lacking was a phone. Look. There's a nice looking English speaking family. And the dad has a phone! An act of kindness later and a five minutes phone call and we are on our way via taxi to the hostel. The gal at reception is so apologetic. I keep telling her, “It's OK, no problem”. Five minutes later she shows up at our room with a bottle of vodka and more apologies. I accept the vodka with pleasure, grin and say, “Now, no more apologies.” In Russia two hours and I'm already being given vodka!
Language matters:
I ask the vodka friendly front desk at our hostel to reserve us a taxi to take us to the train station, about a 20 minute ride. Just to be safe, I plan to get to the station an hour early. The Trans-Siberian only runs every few days. I'm waiting in the hostel lounge when my traveling companion, Dan, calls out that our taxi is here. Wow. Ten minutes early. Go Moscow. I toss my luggage in the trunk and off we go. Only one problem. Dan doesn't speak any Russian. We go a few blocks when I say to our driver, “We go to train, yes?” in broken Russian. The next thing I know, he's on his cell phone and then hitting the brakes. Our hostel is in a squirrely warren of one way, narrow streets. Apparently, we took someone else's taxi. No problem. “One way” is a relative term. Our driver expertly navigates us in reverse, to the disdain and honking of other cars, back to our front door. Truly door to door service. Our taxi shows up two minutes later. I don't want to think about what would have happened if I hadn't mentioned our train to the driver. Yes Johnny, use your words.
Nothing but time:
It happens on Day 3. Day one on the Trans-Siberian is about settling in. You greet your new neighbors, exchange pleasantries, make yourself a comfortable perch to watch the world go by. On Day 2, you find yourself in the dining car, choosing the table next to your new friends. Now everyone knows each other's brief bio. But on Day 3, IT happens. The reason you left behind hot showers, WiFi and comfy beds. No, not just to watch the Russian countryside roll by. In the afternoon of Day 3, you find yourself in the neighbor's cabin, a crowd of five or six has gathered. The vodka is flowing and stories are being shared. More vodka flows and the stories get better. As you stagger back to your cabin, of course only due to the lurching of the train, you know that you've just shared something unique and precious.
Countryside calling:
Stop calling them yurts. They're gers. Though my traveling companion seems to favor gerts. The drive into the Mongolian countryside contains swiftly changing vistas. Some are like Eastern Oregon's high desert, others with gers dotting winding rivers under rocky cliffs. Our destination is a ger campground run by a hardworking, gracious family. My son knows the family through an English club in Ulaanbaatar (Mongolia's capitol). We are settling down for bed on our first night there when we are visited by the owner's daughter, her nine month old baby girl and her friend. They come bearing an assortment of Mongolian beer. So fun to find oneself in a foreign countryside, in humble surroundings, sharing life in broken sentences. My favorite moment is when the daughter leaves her baby asleep on a bed to go see if she can figure out why our one, bare bulb does not work. This is a gentle, relaxed, kindhearted people.
Jonathan Maletz and his wife, Ruth, are celebrating three years as owners of Daniel's Health & Nutrition on the Heights in Hood River.
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