So from Novosibirsk 13 hours further east to Krasnoyarsk. Had been spending way too much on hotel rooms, they seem to think ah tourist= loaded with cash, so decided to buy a third class train ticket for the next leg. You still get a little vinyl covered bunk attached to the wall (although unbeknownst to me at the time you cant sit upright on the top bunk) but instead of each group of 4 bunks being neatly enclosed into their little world they open onto the corridor and on the far wall, perpendicular to the 4 hang another 2 bunk. Generally cosy mayhem all round. Within two minutes of boarding a strong man had been found to throw my pack onto the sky high luggage rack, a glass of vodka was thrust into my hand (twice the size of everyone elses) and salted cucumbers, bread and salami were being all but force fed.

I was introduced to the babushkas, the mums and children running about the place - whom I took at first glance to be related but had all just met on the train (besides the mothers and selected offspring ofcourse!). After the usual inquisition we settled down to playing and gossiping. It was all very pleasant and convivial and I was thinking, wow this is the real Russia!!! Then my Russian ran out, we couldnt find anything further to talk about. As I couldn't sit on my uppper bunk to read, and escape more shots of vodka, I asked the middle aged couple in the next section down if I could sit on the end of a bench in their section, they were the only two in it and the light was better. They refused and this miss bossy from my section started kicking up a fuss saying that it was a communal space and literally dragged me there to sit down. Once she had left I appologised to them, saying I just wanted to read. When they realised that I wasnt with this group, which for some reason they were very thrilled by, then all was fine and we settled down to a nice long chat, Lydia being especially patient with my poor Russian, as I found most "mums" to be. I was soon being fed a second dinner, prepared just for me as they had already eaten it seems, and more vodka. There were a few more screaming matches from Miss Bossy, by this stage I'd figured that she was a bit worse for wear from the constant vodka shots, and even her little son was trying to drag her away and telling her to leave it alone. Next station pull into the cops pile on, four big burly men, weapons and peaked caps dominating the tiny corridor. I was horrified! What kind of international incident had I caused?! Shouting, yelling, protesting and draging away (of said bossy woman) went on for what seemed like ages. Nobody seemed to think it was my fault except me, and I eventually burst into tears (I blame it on the vodka!). Some new guys came onto the train, taking the vacant bench in question, and started teasing me, calling me Nicole Kidman and imitating kangaroos to cheer me up. Everyone said that this was "normalne" in Russia and not to worry. I was not so sure!
Still. The cops got off, the trains tarted rolling forever eastwards again and more vodka and salted cucumbers were procured. I nipped back to my section as soon as I could though, figuring it's best to stick to your allotted section and not mingle with compartments. Too much playing with fire!!!!