Planes, Trains, and Wagons East

Beijing has four train stations. Four gigantic train stations. My train left from the West Beijing Railway Station. It was there that I made my first big mistake of this trip. I booked the cheapest ticket I could get. The infamous "hard seat." I decided to skip two of my planned stops in China because, well, after six months in Asia I was ready to leave. So, the ride was from Beijing to Urumqi, the largest city in the Xinjang province of China, and it took 42 hours. These were the longest 42 hours of my life. Theres a lot of people in China so, naturally, the trains are crowded. Especially the cars with the cheap seats. Some people even stood for the entire trip. Not to mention the fact that no one checks their bags. After the overhead racks were filled and bags were shoved under seats and tables, they began setting the bags on our headrests and tying them to coat hooks on the walls.


My seat was softer than the "hard" label implies, but still extremely uncomfortable. Four people were situated around a tiny table, knees touching, practically unable to move. For 42 hours. The girl next to me was nice enough, but the couple across the table were difficult. They brought along their one year old baby.

Let me tell you something about Chinese babies. They don't wear diapers. They wear crotch-less pants so they get used to squatting for the wonderful squat toilets in China. Back in Beijing Sara and I had discussed this phenomenon. We understood how it could be effective outside, but we didn't understand how it functions indoors. Turns out its just the same as outside: babies piss and shit whereever, whenever. On a train. For 42 hours. Also, everyone smokes on the train. They crowd near the smoking section but inevitably they spill out into the main part of the car. For 42 hours. Each stop lasted maybe 10 minutes, but the line to get off the train for a smoke - or in my case just a break from the madness - was so long that I only had about two minutes to breathe the fresh (polluted) air and jump around a bit. I lived for those two minutes. The scenery also left much to be desired. Endless grey city or endless brown desert, with a few desert mountains sprinkled in. A couple of times I wasn't sure I was going to make it, but I did, and now I've got a great story to tell.


Upon arriving in Urumqi, I immediately went to buy a ticket to Kazakhstan and ensure a seat on the next leg of my journey. I wanted to go to Almaty, but as it turns out the railway south was closed due to snow. So I had to go to Astana. And the once-weekly train to Astana left at midnight the following day. No way was I going to stay in Urumqi for a week, so I got the ticket... this time, a sleeper.

I spent the rest of that day and the next walking around Urumqi. Another typical Asian city: loud, dirty, polluted, crowded.


But a few places had some serious charm. I found a few beautiful mosques, and the Xinjang Museum of Regional Autonomy was pretty interesting, with cultural displays of the many, many different people who live in this part of China, as well as a few desert mummies found nearby.


The "People's Park" was also really interesting with live Chinese folk music, kite flyers, and, believe it or not, trees.


An hour before my next train left I got sick, most likely from the previous train ride (China doesn't have any hand sanitizer). I was sooo happy to have a sleeper. For 38 hours. I also met a really nice Kazakh girl named Aliya who invited me to stay with her in Karganda, but I just felt too sick and I needed some time to recover. I shared my room with two nice Kazakh's, Ale and Sergei, mother and son, who only spoke Russian.


I tried to learn a Russian card game with Sergei but I couldn't get the hang of it. The rest of the time I slept and felt generally horrible. For 38 hours. Not much to look at outside on this ride either. Once the desert ended the steppe began and it was endless flatland with the dead grass of winter. But oh my god there was a sunset without the haze of pollution. I hadn't seen one of those for a while.


In Astana I wanted to accomplish two things: get better, and get a Russian transit visa. I spent two days in my hostel in the train station reading, eating when I could, and sleeping. The third day I ventured out to get my Russian visa which cost a fortune. While waiting I walked around the city with a really nice German guy I met at the hostel and had some delicious Kazakh food because I could finally eat again. Astana is a very pretty and very new city. Also very wealthy.


Russian visa in hand, I boarded the train for Kiev, Ukraine the next day.


I was finally ready to enjoy the train ride. Again I had a sleeper, and I was the only one in my compartment which slept 4. For 72 hours. Mostly steppe out the window again, until we got to the rolling hills of Russia.


But Russia brought a set of problems. When I got to the border with Russia the Kazakh border officials told me, what I already knew, that the train left Kazakhstan, went to Russia, came back into Kazakhstan for 200km, then back to Russia, then Ukraine. I told this to the embassy in Seoul and they said a single entry visa was fine. The border officials said I would have to get off the train at the next border crossing. They said they could help if I gave them money. I didn't have much cash so I said no.

During this time I met another German guy who was the only other person on the train who could speak English. He seemed nice enough, told me he'd rode this train many times and that often bribes are necessary. He lent me a bit of money just in case I needed it at the next border. Before we reached the border I befriended some Russian officials who were riding the train by giving them some "souveniers" (a pen from America, and one from Korea). I don't know if it was with their help or not, but there were no problems at any of the borders from there on. Speaking of border crossings, they all happen between midnight and 4am, and they take several hours.


Its very scary to be woken up by large men in uniform demanding to see your passport.

Later on this German guy started to give me the creeps. He talked about how Polish people were horrible theives, and so were Ukranians. I helped him with his bags in the train station once we got to Kiev (he had like 5 huge bags for some reason) but I was happy to be rid of him.

Anyway, 72 hours later I arrived in Kiev, exhausted, hungry (I didn't bring quite enough food), and with a head full of Daniel Quinn's thought provoking views on life, as his book My Ishmael kept me good company on the train. That's right folks, one hundred and fifty hours of trains in one and a half weeks. I couldn't wait to get to Europe, and now that I'm here, I couldn't be happier.