You probably know that these days the word “Shinkansen” is used to generically describe a number of different types of Japanese high speed train. My train today is another Hikari Super Express, this time the 464, bound for Tokyo. The fastest, with the least number of stops is the “Nozumi”. You cannot use these trains with a JR rail pass, but you can use the second tier of trains (same type of train, more stops) called the “Hikari”.

Kyoto’s main station is a very modern place, integrated with shopping malls and hotels. The whole place smells of popcorn and freshly baked cookies. The soundtrack is a blend of indecipherable Japanese tannoy announcements mixed with the rumble of trains overhead as you emerge upwards towards the platforms.

On the platform a train arrives every five minutes or so and takes off after a loud electronic beeping noise warns anyone in any doubt on the platform. The trains themselves seem almost silent and so aerodynamic that they cut their own hole in the air ahead of them.

Time to put my feet up for the three hour journey. The snow slowly disappears even though we are heading north. The slopes of Mount Fuji glisten in the winter sun. The windows seem too big, but that’s because your mind confuses the cabin with that of an aircraft. There are no digital indicators of the train’s speed. The Japanese must just take it for granted that as its a Shinkansen train, it’s going to be travelling at Shinkansen speed. A lady greets each new passenger with a hot towel. There is a trolley service selling basic snacks, but surprisingly to me, no proper food is served on the train.

All too soon we pull into Yokohama and ten minutes later we are at Tokyo’s central station. I have forgotten that I’m actually staying near Shinjuku station and not this station, so my taxi costs a small fortune..

Time for what Louis Theroux would call a “weird weekend” in Tokyo.

It’s just a 40 minute journey on my first train of the day to Yonanga, the nearest grown up railway station. The Manga train, or “Kitano Family Train” as it is officially known, departs about once every hour.

It takes me there in some style, that is as long as you like manga art. Inside the train the station announcements are pre recorded by Japanese children and sound very cute. The conductor walks up and down saying good morning to every passenger personally.

The train is covered in manga art throughout. Each carriage is different, and mine seems to be based on some sort of Japanese “Betty Boo” character.

 

 

 

 

It’s not an uncomfortable boat to be a passenger on, but the accommodation is rather spartan and hugely expensive. My bunk is in a room shared with seven other Russians (they seem to segregate nationalities) at a cost of $350 USD. Most people are in dormitory rooms of 30 or so, some in bunks, some sleeping on mats on the floor. If you want an en suite cabin it’s $800 USD. Madness!

I’m lucky to have Taegeun to talk me through the Korean buffet dinner. It is very popular with the Koreans on board, but the Russians are all absent from what feels like a supper club.

After dinner I’m treated to an introduction to Makguli. It’s a Korean rice wine, and it takes a couple of bottles for me to perfect the mixing and dispense. Taegeun is clearly a master and I am his Padawan learner in the science of this. To complete my Korean 1.01 cultural crash course, it’s an after dinner Korean sing along in the disco.

Sleep does not come easily to me once again, this time as I feel the hot and cramped conditions of the room to be pretty claustrophobic. I drift off in the early hours to be woken by a tannoy announcement at 7.00am in three languages, but not my own.

I then remember why my sleep has been poor – the Russians have been holding a full on party in a stairway near my room all night with some game Koreans. The Russian Far East really is a melting pot of nationalities that seem to tolerate and get on with each other. It feels like a “wild frontier” to me – where Moguls meet Russians, where Koreans mix with Chinese, and where the boundaries of ethnicity and language are at times blurred.

North Korea is now to be seen off the starboard bow and there is reasonable sea swell. We are pitching and rolling in the waves as much as to make me feel on the edge of being unwell. As if by magic Taegeun appears outside my room and says we have been delayed due to Russian ship movements in Donghae harbour. Time for breakfast.. Kill or cure.

It is supposedly Western, but the advertised choice (with a life like plastic model above) has many substitutions – my toast for a bread roll, my bacon for a hotdog, but I am blessed with some complimentary lettuce dressed in a Korean version of soy sauce.

On deck it’s a windy but warm day. The temperature was cold overnight but is now well above freezing. The hills of South Korea are getting closer out of the window of the cafe. I’m can’t put my finger on why, but I’m feeling great. It’s partly about the sunshine and warmer climate here, but also good to be arriving in a new country for the first time.

Eating in the restaurant remains a little unpredictable. There can be random shortages of key foods, so you need to work out how best to play it. No great drama with my chicken dinner, other than a small fire that set off the alarm when Chef tries to make me some fried potatoes (which turn out like horrible oily burned crisps). Repeat – unpredictable.. The quiet word in the corridor is that pancakes with caviar or salmon will be possible after 11.00 am local time tomorrow. I have expressed an interest, as I’m quite excited about that.

After some lengthy questioning (a key skill is to be able to ask the same question in different ways, several times) I have now also discovered that train 002 happens to have a small parcel of red wine from Azerbaijan onboard. It has a unique flavour – very smooth, not so much alcohol (10%) and a deep dark earthy fruit flavour. It’s almost like amber or even incense on the finish.. Sorry I can’t describe it better, but I recommend you try it if you get the chance!

I have also laid down a bottle of cheap Spanish medium sweet wine in my private carriage “cellar”. I’m hoping it might be a good food match for the Christmas pudding that I have here. That is of course, if I can get it cooked..

I wake the following morning to a new landscape. We are now back in tree country with massive forests as far as the eye can see. I suspect that yesterday we climbed onto a plateau and have now descended again. The young son of the restaurant manager declares to me that it’s a “beautiful forest”. It’s probably just as well he likes forests as he lives in Krasnoyarsk, a place that defines the meaning of the expression of being “in the middle of nowhere”.
Today is a day of no real daytime stops – Amazar at 05.55 for 18 minutes, Magdagachi at 14.53 for just 15 minutes, and Belogorsk at 21.37 for 30 minutes. Time to read a book and watch the world go by.

I arrive at the restaurant carriage at the appointed time to enquire about the caviar situation. The deal has apparently taken place overnight at Skovorodin. The curtains are still drawn like its a well guarded secret. The woman in the short skirt has a dress on from a 1970’s Bond film. Apparently its “game on” for the pancakes. They taste simply heavenly. Price – 290 Roubles or £2.90.. Just as I’m finishing breakfast the ice cream lady from Russian Railways passes through – in her time zone it might be the perfect time for one, but it’s not on my breakfast agenda.

When I return to my home (carriage no 7) I see that Larissa is up, but not on duty yet. She is doing some knitting whilst watching a Russian soap opera on her laptop. My Trans-Siberian days have a certain rhythm in the morning and the evening, but with no stops sometimes a hole in the afternoon of part boredom and part loneliness. That is when I like to write this blog and make plans. Isolation allows clear thought, but it can at moments be a bit overwhelming.

I try to make the most of our only real daylight stop today at Magdagachi. Larissa isn’t on duty so I hang out at the end of the train with the plaskart people, mainly heavy smokers. Here is a view of the train that I don’t recommend unless you can see plenty of people on the platform!

The day finishes in Belogorsk. After being cooped up, half an hour to trade in black market cigarettes, admire the statue of Lenin and talk about the weather. On this point my wine cellar is as close to freezing as I dare let it go (-21 C) so I have repatriated it to carriage temperature. My Kalashnikov can stay out there though!

The Ukrainan guys leave the train here. They have been very friendly and I have no idea how their interactions have been with Russians on the journey.

I’m reminded of a couple of important Siberian safety and survival tips this evening. Firstly, always be careful when walking across the railway lines, as another train might stop in front of yours. If it is a kilometre long goods train you will have no way back and be forever stranded in freezing Siberia. Secondly, when you wash your hands and there are no paper towels left, do not on any account travel between carriages, as you will leave your skin stuck to the metal surfaces of the handles. I hope that helps!

It’s my final night on board the train. This time in 24 hours I shall hopefully reach Vladivostok – hopefully in time to make the connection for the next leg of my trip by ship to South Korea. Good night!

A short but wintery stop in Novosibirsk, the regional capital city of Siberia. We have had a small regiment of soldiers on the train, but it looks like they have all just got off. Kim (who’s real first name I discover is Taegeun), says the soldiers in his carriage were pretty rude and one from his compartment has been thrown off the train early. I don’t think he means this literally, but sometimes the language barrier gets in the way. Alex had an army officer next door, apparently he was civilised, but not very friendly. Anyway the soldiers have gone home, and their places are quickly filled by new passengers. I think we now have a four ball of German traveller types in this carriage. I only hope that I can stop myself doing some “Fawlty Towers” impressions later on..

Larissa always dresses like she will be walking on the Moon whenever we get off the train. Other than the axe and a broom to deal with the ice and accumulated snow, she also has a range of flags to signal with and a red plastic torch with an enormous battery pack and sling, which is very 1970’s. She is just great, and I’m very lucky to be in her carriage.

I’m doing my best to be Christmassy here today, but it’s a fairly solitary experience. “Official Train Christmas” is actually not until next week, as the Russian Orthodox Church has varying dates. I have a bottle of Russian champagnski on ice and also some mince pies (Marks & Spencer’s finest!).

Chef has cooked me some chicken but I’m getting all excited just thinking about a real roast dinner right now.. In passing I have discovered a stash of Kozel beer in the restaurant – both light and dark versions – pretty good at 150 Rubles a can.

In the a afternoon I opened a “Red Cross Parcel” that I had been keeping to mark the occasion – generously supplied to me personally by the President of the Edinburgh Explorer’s Club and handed to me before I left, in the front room of Sir Ernest Shackleton’s home. I discovered that it contained miniature bottles of vintage port and cognac together with a Christmas pudding from Prince Charles’ estate, Ovaltine and even a tin of Coleman’s mustard powder! – a huge morale boost.

I have performed my Santa duties and presented the three people that I depend the most upon with a little gift – the two carriage no 7 provodnitsa’s and the restaurant manager, who has immediately saturated my table with jams, chocolate and satsumas grown in a province of southern Russia that I cannot pronounce. A little bit of hospitality seems to go a long way out here.

Perhaps incredibly I seem to have slept quite well again last night. My bed is comfy, and the gentle sway of the train soon sends me to sleep. The temperature is pretty constant at about 26 C in the corridor, but 21 C in my slightly illegally ventilated compartment. The ride of the train is smooth and the brakes don’t throw you out of bed like on the Trans-Mong, probably because of the regular de-icing.

We stopped for a full 30 minutes in Barabinsk. I’m not quite sure why, as other than the usual procedures there was not much going on. The main activity on the platform appears to be trading in fish and fur hats. There are lots of fish. They are caught through holes in the ice from nearby lakes. This is more famous in Irkutsk, where the fish come from Lake Biakal. I can only assume Barabinsk is trying to improve its fish credentials to rail travellers. I’m surprised not to be targeted by the crowd of fish women, but they must have realised that the chances of a European wanting a smelly dead fish in his compartment is slight. It’s obviously in demand by the locals though.

Rita, one of the fixers I had in Moscow, has put me off hot platform food. She told me that it’s heated up in the station toilets and not very hygienic. This might be slightly alarmist, but it’s a fair point to question how this food can remain hot for so long in this climate. Hopefully my supply of Rubles will allow me to dine at least once a day in the restaurant carriage. By way of example, last night I had a starter of herring and potato, a main course of pork shnitzel and a couple of cans of beer for 920 Rubles, about £10.

The shops on the platform are open for the sale of last minute Christmas gifts. The only proviso is that you must be after a pot potato or some sort of kitch local trinket. They don’t seem to be doing much business and I can only assume people are holding back for the January sales.

For the first time today Larissa called me back onto the train. I don’t think she would deliberately leave me behind, but neither would she hold a roll call before sealing the door. The trick is to remain not too far away for the final few minutes before departure. The smokers are masters of this. Today this includes an English speaking Romanian coffee trader called Alex, who got on last night and is going as far as Irkutsk.

I have had the map out in my office this morning. I am surprised by the speed of our progress, as we reach Irkutsk tomorrow night – that leaves three further full days to reach Vladivostok. This is partly the effect of Moscow time, but maybe also the line is slower on the final stages of the journey. What I have realised is that I’m going to miss seeing Lake Baikal, as we will be passing its shores during the night. That’s a shame as its hugely impressive – like a frozen sea. I haven’t been calculating the distance each day this trip, but I can see that I have now got around 8000 km under my belt. It’s amazing how much ground you can cover even at a slow speed by travelling day and night with only a few stops.

Can I take this opportunity to wish you and your family a “Happy Christmas” from wherever you might be reading this.

I had a mild panic as my window was slightly open and this would be very visible on the platform to the Provodnitsa. I have sealed it up for the day now – let’s hope it’s okay. It’s actually a fairly stable 23 C inside, so not as uncontrollably hot as I have previously known. I think this type of carriage has temperature controlled air conditioning. During the night I spotted a flashing amber light above my door and in a confused state concluded that this was a low temperature warning light to alert the Provodnitsa of my illegal window opening activity. It was in fact just the standby button on my television!

I’m not sure how many miles east we have covered in the first 18 hours of the journey, but looking outside its pretty Wintery now in a European sense, with endless deep snow, fir trees and telegraph poles.

I took a solitary breakfast in the restaurant carriage. When you leave carriage 6 you step back about thirty years as the restaurant is from a different time. For such a big train you would think it would be busier, but many passengers bring their own food or buy it from the platform shops. The prices seem pretty reasonable to me, but that’s mainly due to the weak Ruble. There is an eastern looking chef and a Russian couple who run it, I’m assuming as a franchise.  The lady is pretty cheerful (for a Russian) and I have actually managed to get a smile out of her today.

I have so far met one fellow passenger who speaks English. He is a South Korean business student called Kim. His name is actually Kim something, something, but he politely allows me call him “Kim” recognising my lack of Asian language skills. Like me he hopes to catch the elusive DBS ferry to his home country next week. No sign of any tourists on the train, but that’s no surprise as (a) it’s Christmas Eve and (b) it’s a train to Vladivistok in the middle of winter. Kim thinks I will be the only western person getting on the ferry.

I have just been given a card that locks my cabin door. High tech stuff. That clears up my question about what the weird red button inside my compartment does, but I wonder why it took nearly a day to give it to me?

Warsaw Centralna smelt rather of tramps and stale urine this afternoon, which is a shame as its otherwise okay. Not a contender for the “greatest train station of the world” award, but a warm and dry underground labyrinth of shops, platforms and people. The train also has a very distinct odour – of coal and stale urine. It’s not ideal and I have sprinkled some tea tree oil around the compartment. The train itself is comprised of Russian carriages one day and Polish the next, so it is 50-50 which you are going to get. In my experience the Polish ones offer better climate control (you can open the window) but smell a bit worse. I have a suspicion that this is because some passengers urinate in the sink in each compartment. Perversely the toilet does not smell at all.

I’m quite excited about the border tonight. I have been across it before, but tonight I’m going to leave out my new espresso machine in its vagely military looking case to see if it gets marked out for a special search by the KGB or the Army. I hope this isn’t a foolhardy idea as the Russian military are not well known for their humour, but it’s a story I might be able to tell my grandchildren about once I get released from the gulag.

My carriage (21) needs some maintenance. The heating is actually jammed in the “on” position and the power socket has no live feed. I don’t have a roll of foil with me (to make a heat shield) but I do have an emergency power source in my Power Gorilla – It can charge up an iPad several times. I’m going to make the most of the opening window – it will be my last one of this trip. I’m reminded by this leg that I need to acquire a roll of gaffer tape in Moscow – there are always things that clater with the movement of the train and sticking them down makes for a more peaceful environment.

This is the last carriage of the train, which comprises of four day type carriages going to Terespol (the border with Belarus), and four sleepers making the crossing bound for Minsk and Moscow. My carriage is the last one and I’m at the end of it looking backwards from my berth so it feels like I’m being pulled unwillingly along by the rest of the train. There is an important safety tip here when visiting the bathroom – the doors behind it open onto the nothingness behind the train.

This may all change at Brest, where we will perform the ritual of splitting off each carriage, shunting it into the sheds and changing wheels. My main objective whilst this is all going on is to bag some homemade food from one of the babushkas (who materialise out of nowhere) right amidst the fairly violent and industrial process of knocking the bogies off our carriage and lifting it up a few feet to fit wider ones. I shall update as the evening progresses.

19.20
Now at a deserted Terespol, the Polish side of the border with Belarus. I have just had the first visit to my compartment from a very nice young lady sergeant, but I’m not sure which country or army she represents. I have not been asked to complete any paperwork yet and I wonder if this is possibly a new system. The sergeant was armed with a big portable scanner – and a light automatic pistol. My passport itself is biometric, I’m not sure it worked as she took it away to show a colleague. Last week Russia imposed a new system that means you now need to provide your fingerprints at the embassy to get a visa in the first place. As I got my visa issued before the new rule, I’m entering on one of the last ever non biometric visas.

I’m actually on a transit visa to Belarus tonight, which works for 48 hours from activation at the border. To get such a visa you first need to have a Russian visa – they often end up as a double page in your passport to keep things easy to find. Once you get into Belarus there are no further checks going into Russia, as this is the “hard” border and the crossing between Belarus and Russia is more like crossing between England and Scotland.

Second visit – Polish police (I think) the lady just wanted to check I had a passport. It’s nice having all these people come to visit you rather than you having to get off and queue up in the traditional sense. I only wish there was time to chat about the weather and the value of the Rouble.

19.43
On the move, four carriages and our locomotive, trundling over the bridge into Belarus. The lights are on inside the train, so it’s hard to spot what’s happening outside. We stop again, seemingly in the middle of nowhere and I can seen men outside looking under the train. Voices outside, so ready for the next team of officials. Definately from Russia or Belarus – you can tell by the language and the enormous size of their peaked caps. An immaculately turned out blonde lady Captain has just checked my papers and left with my passport. Her colleagues point and talk about me, but I don’t know what they say. Could it be about my mil spec Handpresso machine? Might they want to inspect it to see if it’s the latest 5.56mm model? Then what I assume a customs man arrives. He asks if I speak German (which I don’t), but I stand up and look him in the eye, he nods and leaves me alone (did I just perform some sort of Jedi mind trick?).
I can now hear the sound of aluminium ladders banging and power screwdrivers at work – I think they are taking the train apart to check for contraband. That or there are some very keen DIY’ers living next door!

The Captain is back with some immigration paperwork for me to complete. This takes about five minutes as long as you happen to know your passport number and your Belarus visa number by heart, as the passports were taken away a while back. Fortunately I have a photocopy in my “mobile office” bag.

The train engine idles, I assume to keep the power and heating working. There is a dog barking down the end of corridor. It doesn’t sound like a very scary dog, so possibly a passenger’s pet rather than a German Shepherd. How do you take a pet dog for a walk on a train journey lasting this long?

20.18
Captain Blonde returns, I present my homework and when I ask her if it’s okay she nods. I think it’s a B+, if not quite an A-. The train is moving again. My immigration form is stamped and in my passport now. The stamp is in pink ink. What has become of the CCCP? We are now being pushed slowly from behind by a shunter, so I guess this means I’m “in” and it’s engine shed time soon.

My peasant home cooked dinner arrives. I’m pretty pleased that I managed to get the right meal with a bit of international sign language and my iPad jumbo calculator. I went for chicken spatchcock, blinis, pickled gherkin, and boiled potatoes. We did the deal in Zloty. The base price was outrageous, but I held my nerve and I think Alan Sugar would have been pleased with my technique to get a 55 Zloty feast (£10), given it started at over 170 Zloty. I bet that was still way over what the Russians would pay, but I was happy…

21.16
Leaving the shed with a new set of wheels. The carriage is eerily quiet. It’s seemingly getting colder outside. Worryingly both toilets are now non operational. I think the pressure or the electrics in this carriage are kaput.. Edit – in a station with a man under the carriage right now. Maybe he has the unenviable task of fixing our plumbing? A young woman babbles something at me from the platform. She has kind eyes, but I’m no good with begging in my own language, let alone one I don’t understand. For all I know she might just be asking me for the time or the current price of the Rouble..

Time for an evening movie and a glass of reasonable Rioja that I bagged in Warsaw. Note to self – don’t forget about the time change, it’s past midnight Moscow time. Final job for the day – I have cannibalised two sets of bedding to make one decent bed tonight. I’m hoping I might actually get some sleep. Good night.