Russia: A Journey across Siberia
This is the country that has the same surface area as Pluto,
and we are on a train journey that will cross half of its length in 4 days, across 6 time zones...
4 days straight on a train sounds like an impossibly long journey, but by the time we were headed to the Yaroslavlsky Station station, loaded with our supplies for the journey we were very much looking forward to the time to stop and watch the world pass by. It had been 3 months of straight travel so far, and after such a jam packed schedule we were looking forward to just sitting still for a while.
What we didn’t expect was how quickly the journey would fly by. We expected to have loads of time to read and write and hours to spend on all things you’ve been meaning to do of the last weeks , but somehow the time just dissolved away while watching the landscapes pass by.
What we didn’t expect was how quickly the journey would fly by. We expected to have loads of time to read and write and hours to spend on all things you’ve been meaning to do of the last weeks , but somehow the time just dissolved away while watching the landscapes pass by.
DAY 6. FRIDAY 21ST AUGUST
The 5,184 km journey across the worlds largest country is about to begin. This is the country that has the same surface area as Pluto, and we are about to embark on a train journey that will cross half of its length in 4 days, and will take us across 6 time zones.
After a slightly stressful cab journey to the train station (where the cab driver drove in the wrong direction for around 15km before realising the mistake) we arrive at the Yaroslavlsky Station, buzzing with anticipation. What will our cabin be like? Who will we be sharing with? Will the food be edible?
We check our tickets for about the twentieth time, and find our cabin where we set about making our home for the next four days. While we’re debating weather the bags should go above or below our folding bunks, our travelling companions arrive. Its a young mother and her eight year old daughter, long and lanky blonds they couldn’t look more typically Russian.
They seem to know the “settling in ritual” a little better than us, and promptly set about finding a place for everything. Shoes off and under the bed, slippers on, change into their train pyjamas, food bags under the bed, stashes of two minute noodles neatly stacked away. They speak no
English but communicate by offering us Russian sweets and staring down from their bunks above.
We have grand ambitions of passing the time with work, writing and reading, but somehow the time slips away while the landscape fails to change outside the windows. Leafless silver birches blur by as we feast on our complimentary meal of schnitzel, mashed potato and soggy vegetables. Our ticket said one meal included…was that one meal every day, or just one meal? Lucky we’d stocked up on the two minute noodles also.
Pete memorises the timetable of stops; no mere feat considering the changes in time zones to calculate, and we look forward to the breaks and wonder what new things we’re going to discover at the tiny shops that line the platforms. Every time we approach a scheduled station, we wait in anticipation for the train to pull in, so we can spill onto the platforms, stretch our stiff limbs and savour a few minutes of icy Siberian air before being corralled back into our carriages.
After a slightly stressful cab journey to the train station (where the cab driver drove in the wrong direction for around 15km before realising the mistake) we arrive at the Yaroslavlsky Station, buzzing with anticipation. What will our cabin be like? Who will we be sharing with? Will the food be edible?
We check our tickets for about the twentieth time, and find our cabin where we set about making our home for the next four days. While we’re debating weather the bags should go above or below our folding bunks, our travelling companions arrive. Its a young mother and her eight year old daughter, long and lanky blonds they couldn’t look more typically Russian.
They seem to know the “settling in ritual” a little better than us, and promptly set about finding a place for everything. Shoes off and under the bed, slippers on, change into their train pyjamas, food bags under the bed, stashes of two minute noodles neatly stacked away. They speak no
English but communicate by offering us Russian sweets and staring down from their bunks above.
We have grand ambitions of passing the time with work, writing and reading, but somehow the time slips away while the landscape fails to change outside the windows. Leafless silver birches blur by as we feast on our complimentary meal of schnitzel, mashed potato and soggy vegetables. Our ticket said one meal included…was that one meal every day, or just one meal? Lucky we’d stocked up on the two minute noodles also.
Pete memorises the timetable of stops; no mere feat considering the changes in time zones to calculate, and we look forward to the breaks and wonder what new things we’re going to discover at the tiny shops that line the platforms. Every time we approach a scheduled station, we wait in anticipation for the train to pull in, so we can spill onto the platforms, stretch our stiff limbs and savour a few minutes of icy Siberian air before being corralled back into our carriages.
DAY 7. SATURDAY 22ND AUGUST
Seeing ‘one meal’ on our ticket turned out to really only be one meal for the entire four days, we venture to the food carriage to sample some of the trains ridiculously expensive cuisine. You can only get so far with the two minute noodles purchased from the platform shops.
Sitting across from us is a girl who might just be John Snows Ingrid, reading in her booth seat and drinking tea as only the English can. After catching each others eye, we start up a conversation and discovered she’s been on the train all the way from the UK. Her name is Kat, and in four days she’s travelled as far as we had come in 4 months. Her fear of flying means she plans all her holiday destinations around land travel only, and the beauty of the Trans-Mongolian is she can do a loop trip all the way to China and back without having to step foot in an airport.
As the afternoon light fades, the cups of tea turn into vodka shots as the booth seats across us are filled up with locals who could drink us under the table without blinking an eye. One of the ladies tries firing up a very energetic conversation with Emma, somehow assuming she speaks Russian even though she keeps shaking her head and repeating English words, and finding it hilarious when she realises she doesn’t. For them, us not speaking Russian is akin to not knowing the Earth revolves around the Sun. Russia is the centre of the world. Все говорят на русском , да ! (everyone speaks Ruski, da!)
Eventually we get kicked out of the dining carriage and told its bedtime, although our watches are telling us its only 8.30pm. We thought the point of travelling overland was to avoid jet lag!
It’s way too early to sleep and we’ve got more travel stories to trade, so we take our bottle of vodka, and make a nest of pillows and blankets in the rickety and draughty space between the carriages. We think its a great solution, until our Babushka caretaker discovers us and orders us to bed.
“Nooooooo” we complain, as sweetly as we can muster. “Just half an hour more?”
She leaves us be, but comes back every 20 minutes or so barking at us to go to bed. Eventually she pokes her head in one more time, this time slipping a fresh bottle of vodka through the crack in the door. And then some mixers. And then offerers us some cigarettes.
We can’t believe our luck and before we know it another bottle’s gone, and so is our ability to stand up and talk in coherent sentences. She finally has enough of us and packs us off into our bunks, but not before rubbing her fingers together to let us know the bottle of vodka definitely wasn’t on the house.
Sitting across from us is a girl who might just be John Snows Ingrid, reading in her booth seat and drinking tea as only the English can. After catching each others eye, we start up a conversation and discovered she’s been on the train all the way from the UK. Her name is Kat, and in four days she’s travelled as far as we had come in 4 months. Her fear of flying means she plans all her holiday destinations around land travel only, and the beauty of the Trans-Mongolian is she can do a loop trip all the way to China and back without having to step foot in an airport.
As the afternoon light fades, the cups of tea turn into vodka shots as the booth seats across us are filled up with locals who could drink us under the table without blinking an eye. One of the ladies tries firing up a very energetic conversation with Emma, somehow assuming she speaks Russian even though she keeps shaking her head and repeating English words, and finding it hilarious when she realises she doesn’t. For them, us not speaking Russian is akin to not knowing the Earth revolves around the Sun. Russia is the centre of the world. Все говорят на русском , да ! (everyone speaks Ruski, da!)
Eventually we get kicked out of the dining carriage and told its bedtime, although our watches are telling us its only 8.30pm. We thought the point of travelling overland was to avoid jet lag!
It’s way too early to sleep and we’ve got more travel stories to trade, so we take our bottle of vodka, and make a nest of pillows and blankets in the rickety and draughty space between the carriages. We think its a great solution, until our Babushka caretaker discovers us and orders us to bed.
“Nooooooo” we complain, as sweetly as we can muster. “Just half an hour more?”
She leaves us be, but comes back every 20 minutes or so barking at us to go to bed. Eventually she pokes her head in one more time, this time slipping a fresh bottle of vodka through the crack in the door. And then some mixers. And then offerers us some cigarettes.
We can’t believe our luck and before we know it another bottle’s gone, and so is our ability to stand up and talk in coherent sentences. She finally has enough of us and packs us off into our bunks, but not before rubbing her fingers together to let us know the bottle of vodka definitely wasn’t on the house.
DAY ?. HANGOVER O'CLOCK
Wake up with a splitting headache. Go back to sleep. Mother and daughter probably wondering why we haven’t made our beds all day.
Drinking vodka on a train with Russians is definitely not a good idea. Eat two minute noodles for dinner and watch movies all day.
Drinking vodka on a train with Russians is definitely not a good idea. Eat two minute noodles for dinner and watch movies all day.
DAY 8. MONDAY 24TH AUGUST
We’ve made a recovery and are back into our daily train routine. On one of our scheduled platform stops, we make friends with some cheery (routinely) nomadic Canadians, Dean and Lanni, who are living one cabin down from us. Like most other travellers on the train, they’re headed to Mongolia then off to Nepal for the Everest Base Camp trek. Every stop from now on we trade travel notes.
The little daughter in our cabin starts practicing her English with her mother. So they can understand some English! In the three days we have been sharing a very small space with them, they haven’t uttered a single English phrase.
The little daughter in our cabin starts practicing her English with her mother. So they can understand some English! In the three days we have been sharing a very small space with them, they haven’t uttered a single English phrase.
DAY 9. TUESDAY 25TH AUGUST
The world outside speeding by is still surprisingly similar to 3650 km ago. I guess thats what Chekhov meant when he wrote about the beauty of the monotonous landscape.
Our routine of wake, make bed, eat breakfast, write, read, eat lunch, read, stare out the window, make dinner, make bed, read, sleep comes naturally now. We feel like the end of the journey has come too quickly and we’re not sure if we are ready to depart from our little world on the train.
As the train slowly pulls into our first actually destination in 4 days, our Russian mother makes sure to point out all the things we could potentially leave behind. Shoes under bunks, jumpers rolled up in the corner. She’s done this before. Irkutsk rolls into sight as we gather up our belongings, and along with the other passengers, we step out into the depths of Siberia.
We find Kat, our red headed Ingrid, and decided three is better than two when it comes to taking on taxi drivers and are instantly swamped by the familiar throws. We’re equipped with the usual information…what’s the standard fare, exchange rate, how far is our hostel. In a bout of weariness we reluctantly make the mistake we always make sure to avoid. We say yes to the closest, most aggressive taxi driver. But, insist on agreeing the fare first. Twice. And a meter?
“Yes ok, meter, lets go!”
The three of us bundle into the cab, and the driver hooks up the ‘meter’ to an iPad, complete with an app showing a fare. OK, well at least its on a meter we think.
By the time we pull up at our hostel, the fare is at least ten times our agreed price, our bags are locked in the back of the taxi and the large Russian driver is not budging on the insanely inflated price. We think he’s going to drive us back to the train station when he threatens to drive off. Somehow we manage to convince him that we don’t have enough money, but perhaps one of us can run into the hostel and come back. Two of us stay with the bags.
As Emma sprints into the hostel, the car abruptly pulls away, then stops again. She hopes the driver isn’t going to kidnap Pete and Kat, and bolts into the hostel reception, frantically explains the situation to the guys working behind the desk, and 30 seconds later is running back out towards the cab with two even larger Russian men in tow.
They surround the car, speak some very aggressive sounding Russian words, and point to a police car that is hovering across the other side of the road.
‘Get out, get out’ they command to Pete and Kat, while Emma grabs the packs from the boot of the car. As soon as everyone is out, the driver speeds off, refusing the ‘agreed’ fare Emma tries to shove in his hand, and we all stand bewildered on the side of the road.
Welcome to Russia. You’re in Siberia now.
From Irkutsk we had a break of 4 days from the train, and headed up to the largest freshwater lake in the world, Lake Baikal. Read all about it in Part 3 of our Russian adventures (Coming Soon).
Our routine of wake, make bed, eat breakfast, write, read, eat lunch, read, stare out the window, make dinner, make bed, read, sleep comes naturally now. We feel like the end of the journey has come too quickly and we’re not sure if we are ready to depart from our little world on the train.
As the train slowly pulls into our first actually destination in 4 days, our Russian mother makes sure to point out all the things we could potentially leave behind. Shoes under bunks, jumpers rolled up in the corner. She’s done this before. Irkutsk rolls into sight as we gather up our belongings, and along with the other passengers, we step out into the depths of Siberia.
We find Kat, our red headed Ingrid, and decided three is better than two when it comes to taking on taxi drivers and are instantly swamped by the familiar throws. We’re equipped with the usual information…what’s the standard fare, exchange rate, how far is our hostel. In a bout of weariness we reluctantly make the mistake we always make sure to avoid. We say yes to the closest, most aggressive taxi driver. But, insist on agreeing the fare first. Twice. And a meter?
“Yes ok, meter, lets go!”
The three of us bundle into the cab, and the driver hooks up the ‘meter’ to an iPad, complete with an app showing a fare. OK, well at least its on a meter we think.
By the time we pull up at our hostel, the fare is at least ten times our agreed price, our bags are locked in the back of the taxi and the large Russian driver is not budging on the insanely inflated price. We think he’s going to drive us back to the train station when he threatens to drive off. Somehow we manage to convince him that we don’t have enough money, but perhaps one of us can run into the hostel and come back. Two of us stay with the bags.
As Emma sprints into the hostel, the car abruptly pulls away, then stops again. She hopes the driver isn’t going to kidnap Pete and Kat, and bolts into the hostel reception, frantically explains the situation to the guys working behind the desk, and 30 seconds later is running back out towards the cab with two even larger Russian men in tow.
They surround the car, speak some very aggressive sounding Russian words, and point to a police car that is hovering across the other side of the road.
‘Get out, get out’ they command to Pete and Kat, while Emma grabs the packs from the boot of the car. As soon as everyone is out, the driver speeds off, refusing the ‘agreed’ fare Emma tries to shove in his hand, and we all stand bewildered on the side of the road.
Welcome to Russia. You’re in Siberia now.
From Irkutsk we had a break of 4 days from the train, and headed up to the largest freshwater lake in the world, Lake Baikal. Read all about it in Part 3 of our Russian adventures (Coming Soon).
♫ ♪♪♫ INTERMISSION!! Time to go grab some popcorn ♫ ♪♪♫
DAY 13. saturday 29TH AUGUST
We’ve got one thing, and one thing only we have to achieve today, and thats get back on the train to complete our last leg of the Trans Mongolian to Ulaanbaatar. Sounds easy right? Should be, except for the fact that on the way back from Lake Baikal, Emma ate a dumpling at a road side stop for lunch. And several hours later she’s doubled up on the grass outside a tourist information centre, throwing her guts up. Literally. Until the only thing coming out is a fluoro green goop. She can hardly stand, let along carry a pack, and time is ticking down until departure.
The lovely girl behind the help desk is kind enough to take Pete to the nearest pharmacy, where they load him up with tablets and magical Russian goo. Its their only chance.
Emma takes a pill, spews it up, and then goes in for the goop. Somehow it sticks.
Two hours later, Pete manages to pack her into a taxi, and make the long walk back onto the train. All Emma is thinking is “If I can just make it to that bunk bed….”
She does, and Eva, our new German travelling companion, must think she is very anti-social indeed. We’re lucky this time, only 3 in our cabin. But we’ve got the vintage version of the carriage this time, older, more rickety, and with windows that actually open. Somehow, all the travellers seem to have been thrown in the one carriage this time.
While Emma tries her hardest not to move from the upper bunk for as long as possible, Pete chats away happily with Eva and Travel Piggy gets to hang out with her miniature travelling buddy, Anton.
This time, as we are headed south, the landscape actually starts to show some variations, as we leave the white birch forests of Siberia and head for the empty plains of Mongolia. Pete has one aim for this leg of the journey, and that’s to make the mad dash to the giant Lennin head in Ulan Ude. He knows he’s got 45 minutes from the moment the train pulls in until the next departure, and after reading the blog of another guy who had done the dash, he’s determined to make it.
As the train glides to a halt, he double checked the map, kisses a weak Emma goodbye on her upper bunk, and prepares for the dash. As soon as the doors slip open, he’s out, long legs taking the steps across the platform bridges two at a time. At the exit of the station, he glances at the map, and heads off down the street to the left. There’s a couple of locals around, maybe just arriving home after their long journey on the train, but apart from that, there’s no one.
It feels too quiet, he thinks. This isn’t right. Scanning the map again, he thinks he may have made an error, so take his chances asking an old lady standing at the next corner.
“Lennin’s head?” he asks, hoping she might speak at least a little English. She doesn’t, but motions in the opposite direction he’s headed.
Dam. With a quick glance at his watch, he calculates that he has just enough time to make it, but it’ll be tight. Long legs working even harder this time, he back tracks past the station entrance, and keeps going a couple of blocks. As he rounds the corner, its there. The biggest head of Lennin you could ever imagine, staring back at him from the middle of a bleak, soviet square. There’s only time for a quick happy snaps and the obligatory Travel Piggy shot before he legs it back to the waiting train platform. With only two minutes till departure, he’s cutting it pretty fine.
Breathless, he leaps on the platform, expecting to find a frantic and concerned Emma waiting for him, angry that he’d jeopardised missing the train and getting stuck in Siberia. Instead, he finds her calmly still in her bunk.
“Woah, that was crazy, I didn’t think I’d make it!” he blurts.
“Why’s that? Emma asks? You’ve still got 12 minutes till departure!”
Safely back on the train, they head further south to the border crossing. It’s a bit of a trial, especially when you’re surfing the after effects of food poisoning. At the Russian side of the border, everyone is asked to depart the carriages for several hours while the guards check every through every compartment and clear the train for customs. Once thats done, everyone gets back on and waits for the surly guards to pass through each cabin to check passports. The whole ordeal takes around 6 hours before the train is given the green light to continue into Mongolia.
As we slowly pull away, we look out the window to see a new kind of face welcoming us into their country. Mongolian guards salute the train as is passes, and we surge on into the next adventure and wondrous landscapes of Mongolia.
The lovely girl behind the help desk is kind enough to take Pete to the nearest pharmacy, where they load him up with tablets and magical Russian goo. Its their only chance.
Emma takes a pill, spews it up, and then goes in for the goop. Somehow it sticks.
Two hours later, Pete manages to pack her into a taxi, and make the long walk back onto the train. All Emma is thinking is “If I can just make it to that bunk bed….”
She does, and Eva, our new German travelling companion, must think she is very anti-social indeed. We’re lucky this time, only 3 in our cabin. But we’ve got the vintage version of the carriage this time, older, more rickety, and with windows that actually open. Somehow, all the travellers seem to have been thrown in the one carriage this time.
While Emma tries her hardest not to move from the upper bunk for as long as possible, Pete chats away happily with Eva and Travel Piggy gets to hang out with her miniature travelling buddy, Anton.
This time, as we are headed south, the landscape actually starts to show some variations, as we leave the white birch forests of Siberia and head for the empty plains of Mongolia. Pete has one aim for this leg of the journey, and that’s to make the mad dash to the giant Lennin head in Ulan Ude. He knows he’s got 45 minutes from the moment the train pulls in until the next departure, and after reading the blog of another guy who had done the dash, he’s determined to make it.
As the train glides to a halt, he double checked the map, kisses a weak Emma goodbye on her upper bunk, and prepares for the dash. As soon as the doors slip open, he’s out, long legs taking the steps across the platform bridges two at a time. At the exit of the station, he glances at the map, and heads off down the street to the left. There’s a couple of locals around, maybe just arriving home after their long journey on the train, but apart from that, there’s no one.
It feels too quiet, he thinks. This isn’t right. Scanning the map again, he thinks he may have made an error, so take his chances asking an old lady standing at the next corner.
“Lennin’s head?” he asks, hoping she might speak at least a little English. She doesn’t, but motions in the opposite direction he’s headed.
Dam. With a quick glance at his watch, he calculates that he has just enough time to make it, but it’ll be tight. Long legs working even harder this time, he back tracks past the station entrance, and keeps going a couple of blocks. As he rounds the corner, its there. The biggest head of Lennin you could ever imagine, staring back at him from the middle of a bleak, soviet square. There’s only time for a quick happy snaps and the obligatory Travel Piggy shot before he legs it back to the waiting train platform. With only two minutes till departure, he’s cutting it pretty fine.
Breathless, he leaps on the platform, expecting to find a frantic and concerned Emma waiting for him, angry that he’d jeopardised missing the train and getting stuck in Siberia. Instead, he finds her calmly still in her bunk.
“Woah, that was crazy, I didn’t think I’d make it!” he blurts.
“Why’s that? Emma asks? You’ve still got 12 minutes till departure!”
Safely back on the train, they head further south to the border crossing. It’s a bit of a trial, especially when you’re surfing the after effects of food poisoning. At the Russian side of the border, everyone is asked to depart the carriages for several hours while the guards check every through every compartment and clear the train for customs. Once thats done, everyone gets back on and waits for the surly guards to pass through each cabin to check passports. The whole ordeal takes around 6 hours before the train is given the green light to continue into Mongolia.
As we slowly pull away, we look out the window to see a new kind of face welcoming us into their country. Mongolian guards salute the train as is passes, and we surge on into the next adventure and wondrous landscapes of Mongolia.
And now for the practical stuff....
Trans-Siberian Railway Questions
Trans-Siberian Railway Questions
What is the Trans-Siberian Railway?
It’s a network of scheduled trains which run the length of Russia from Moscow to Vladivostok. What it isn’t, is a single Trans-Siberian Train. Some lines head off to other cities, like Ulaanbatar in Mongolia (technically making it the Trans-Mongolian). Some trains are newer, more comfortable and faster, while others are commuter trains for day travel between cities. Most trains will stop at all the major cities.
When can you go?
It proudly runs all-year from sunny till-midnight summers through the notorious Siberian winters. Think of it as simply a train service that Russians use to get around. As a tourist, you’ll almost certainly be sharing your cabin with locals.
Wait, cabins?
Trains offer 2, 4 and ‘open’, roughly 6-bed compartments. If you’re reading this guide you’ll probably find the 4-bed cabin is the best balance between comfort and price. But more on these details later.
What is it like in a nutshell?
The vast birch forests of Siberia get very monotonous, and the time will disappear faster than expected. Our visions of reading a long book or catching up on writing didn’t happen - we chatted to locals, tourists and really got into the weirdness of just how quirky the whole experience is.
How do you book tickets?
The extremely thorough www.seat61.com (http://www.seat61.com/Trans-Siberian.htm) has all the detailed information you need, but chances are, you’ll buy your tickets in advance from a Russian tour operator, such as Real Russia. You pay a little more, but the process is streamlined and made easy. Note that bureaucracy is notoriously over the top in Russia, and delays are a reality. Allow plenty of time to organise visas, invitation letters and for tickets to arrive. Or just pick them up from the Real Russia offices in Moscow like we did - they’re a friendly bunch.
It’s a network of scheduled trains which run the length of Russia from Moscow to Vladivostok. What it isn’t, is a single Trans-Siberian Train. Some lines head off to other cities, like Ulaanbatar in Mongolia (technically making it the Trans-Mongolian). Some trains are newer, more comfortable and faster, while others are commuter trains for day travel between cities. Most trains will stop at all the major cities.
When can you go?
It proudly runs all-year from sunny till-midnight summers through the notorious Siberian winters. Think of it as simply a train service that Russians use to get around. As a tourist, you’ll almost certainly be sharing your cabin with locals.
Wait, cabins?
Trains offer 2, 4 and ‘open’, roughly 6-bed compartments. If you’re reading this guide you’ll probably find the 4-bed cabin is the best balance between comfort and price. But more on these details later.
What is it like in a nutshell?
The vast birch forests of Siberia get very monotonous, and the time will disappear faster than expected. Our visions of reading a long book or catching up on writing didn’t happen - we chatted to locals, tourists and really got into the weirdness of just how quirky the whole experience is.
How do you book tickets?
The extremely thorough www.seat61.com (http://www.seat61.com/Trans-Siberian.htm) has all the detailed information you need, but chances are, you’ll buy your tickets in advance from a Russian tour operator, such as Real Russia. You pay a little more, but the process is streamlined and made easy. Note that bureaucracy is notoriously over the top in Russia, and delays are a reality. Allow plenty of time to organise visas, invitation letters and for tickets to arrive. Or just pick them up from the Real Russia offices in Moscow like we did - they’re a friendly bunch.
What is there to see along the way?
Siberia may be a large. empty place, but that’s all far north of the railway tracks. Two cities along the route have a population of almost 1.5 million. Highlights include Novosibirsk (for the Akademgorodok and Altay Mountains), Kazan (for the sightseeing and predominantly Muslim culture), Perm (for the ballet) or Krasnoyarsk (for rock climbing). There is also Ulan-Ude, capital of the buddhist region of Russia and home to a giant statue of Lenin’s head. But the real treat is village-like Irkutsk. This little city, 4 days journey from Moscow is the gateway to the jewel in the crown of Russia - Lake Baikal, the largest freshwater lake in the world. Head all the way to Olkhon Island and you’ll wish you set aside a week here.
How long does the train stop for?
The train stops at major stations every few hours. Usually it’s for 10-15 minutes, but sometimes it’s less than a minute. The longest we stopped for was a luxurious 45 minutes - enough time for Pete to run to the Lenin statue in Ulan-Ude, snap a quick photo and run back to the train.
Siberia may be a large. empty place, but that’s all far north of the railway tracks. Two cities along the route have a population of almost 1.5 million. Highlights include Novosibirsk (for the Akademgorodok and Altay Mountains), Kazan (for the sightseeing and predominantly Muslim culture), Perm (for the ballet) or Krasnoyarsk (for rock climbing). There is also Ulan-Ude, capital of the buddhist region of Russia and home to a giant statue of Lenin’s head. But the real treat is village-like Irkutsk. This little city, 4 days journey from Moscow is the gateway to the jewel in the crown of Russia - Lake Baikal, the largest freshwater lake in the world. Head all the way to Olkhon Island and you’ll wish you set aside a week here.
How long does the train stop for?
The train stops at major stations every few hours. Usually it’s for 10-15 minutes, but sometimes it’s less than a minute. The longest we stopped for was a luxurious 45 minutes - enough time for Pete to run to the Lenin statue in Ulan-Ude, snap a quick photo and run back to the train.
So what are the carriages like?
Each carriage is assigned one middle-aged Russian woman who can change from caring to scornful at the drop of a fur hat. We loved and loathed her, as she effortlessly rolled hardened prison warden and sweet grandmother into one. She cleans the carriage, keeps an eye on everything and opens the doors at stations. Make friends with her, and she might just give you the warning you need as the train slowly begins to roll along the platform on that stop in the middle of Siberia…
The carriages themselves are clean and whilst you can’t really hang out in the corridors much, the whole experience isn’t claustrophobic at all. A hot water dispenser (samovar) is at one end of the carriage, with toilets at the other end.
The cabin etiquette is to leave the top two bunks folded away during the day, so everyone can enjoy the extra room. Then simply fold them down when it’s bedtime. Windows can be opened on some trains.
How does time work?
The train itself always ran on ’Moscow’ time, so by the time we had crossed a few timezones, things had gotten quite out of whack.
What is the typical day like?
Our days largely revolved around meal-times and we spent a lot of time preparing, eating or cleaning up. Generally speaking though, the gentle rocking of the train made for a great nights sleep. We’d have some breakfast, prepare ourselves for the day, look outside for a while or walk along the platform if the train had stopped. Then we might write or read a little before it was time for lunch. We’d take great interest in how other passengers organised certain things, noting great ideas like slippers, tracksuit pants or cups with lids on them. Evenings were often spent watching movies and perhaps having a drink or three in the restaurant carriage.
Each carriage is assigned one middle-aged Russian woman who can change from caring to scornful at the drop of a fur hat. We loved and loathed her, as she effortlessly rolled hardened prison warden and sweet grandmother into one. She cleans the carriage, keeps an eye on everything and opens the doors at stations. Make friends with her, and she might just give you the warning you need as the train slowly begins to roll along the platform on that stop in the middle of Siberia…
The carriages themselves are clean and whilst you can’t really hang out in the corridors much, the whole experience isn’t claustrophobic at all. A hot water dispenser (samovar) is at one end of the carriage, with toilets at the other end.
The cabin etiquette is to leave the top two bunks folded away during the day, so everyone can enjoy the extra room. Then simply fold them down when it’s bedtime. Windows can be opened on some trains.
How does time work?
The train itself always ran on ’Moscow’ time, so by the time we had crossed a few timezones, things had gotten quite out of whack.
What is the typical day like?
Our days largely revolved around meal-times and we spent a lot of time preparing, eating or cleaning up. Generally speaking though, the gentle rocking of the train made for a great nights sleep. We’d have some breakfast, prepare ourselves for the day, look outside for a while or walk along the platform if the train had stopped. Then we might write or read a little before it was time for lunch. We’d take great interest in how other passengers organised certain things, noting great ideas like slippers, tracksuit pants or cups with lids on them. Evenings were often spent watching movies and perhaps having a drink or three in the restaurant carriage.
What are the bathrooms like?
Baby wipes will be your friend here - and like much of the world, it’s BYO toilet paper. The toilets are basic, and there is a sink at the end of the carriage for you to brush your teeth in. Note that the doors of the trains are locked 30 minutes before and after the major stops. It all flushes straight down, so if you’re out hiking in Siberia - perhaps don’t walk on the tracks themselves.
What is the food like?
The restaurant carriage is a futile endeavour - think restaurant prices with the quality of plane food, and to sit there one generally has to buy something. The major train stops all have little stalls selling two minute noodles (A trans-siberian staple) and plenty of snacks. Bottles of fresh water are good to pickup on the way.
Baby wipes will be your friend here - and like much of the world, it’s BYO toilet paper. The toilets are basic, and there is a sink at the end of the carriage for you to brush your teeth in. Note that the doors of the trains are locked 30 minutes before and after the major stops. It all flushes straight down, so if you’re out hiking in Siberia - perhaps don’t walk on the tracks themselves.
What is the food like?
The restaurant carriage is a futile endeavour - think restaurant prices with the quality of plane food, and to sit there one generally has to buy something. The major train stops all have little stalls selling two minute noodles (A trans-siberian staple) and plenty of snacks. Bottles of fresh water are good to pickup on the way.
What did we eat?
Breakfasts were hot tea with muesli and long-life milk, served in screw-top containers. Lunches were generally tuna and bread, with good old ‘laughing cow cheese’ making a frequent appearance. Dinner was two minute noodles and more biscuits. We also brought a huge strudel in Moscow that took a few days to get through.
How much does it all cost?
We chose a more premium train, and naturally costs will change depending on amount of stops and the train itself.
Breakfasts were hot tea with muesli and long-life milk, served in screw-top containers. Lunches were generally tuna and bread, with good old ‘laughing cow cheese’ making a frequent appearance. Dinner was two minute noodles and more biscuits. We also brought a huge strudel in Moscow that took a few days to get through.
How much does it all cost?
We chose a more premium train, and naturally costs will change depending on amount of stops and the train itself.
Departed |
Arrived |
Duration |
Class |
Price |
|
From Moscow to Irkutsk |
21.08.15 at 13:20 |
24.08.15 at 20:57 |
74 hour 37 minute |
2nd class |
£314.10 per person |
From Irkutsk to Ulan-Bator |
28.08.15 at 22:02 |
30.08.15 at 05:50 |
30 hour 48 minute |
2nd class |
£106.43 per person |