Thursday, August 28, 2014

Day 10: Thank You For Trying

IRKUTSK — Almost exactly halfway through our round-the-world tour, Kristina and I reached some sort of wall. We were done looking around for the time being. There were eight hours before our train left Irkutsk, and we had zero energy with which to haul ourselves and our baggage around town. But, we tried, for a little bit. First, by stopping at our favorite local coffee shop, Lenin Street Coffee. (Yes, it was a tourist trap. No, we didn't care.)

SO SERIOUS ALL THE TIME :(

We also tried to go to a banya — Russian bath house — thinking that would kill some time. Once we found the back alley entrance to the one we'd Googled, and rang their intercom, they informed us through the crackling speaker that their sister hostel fifty miles away in Listvyanka was the one with a banya. 

This is about as far as we got with the day. From there we headed to the station, resolving to sit and wait for our evening train, needing some time to just be stationary, not navigating, not limping through communication, just existing.

Here's how that went. 

We saw four possible entrances to the station. We picked the far left, and entered a gorgeous waiting room. Cushiony chairs, plants, power outlets, air conditioning, music...and we think...perfect. In our pigeon Russian we asked the middle-aged, wry-smiling attendant if we can store our bags, in case we want to walk around. Yes. We payed 100 rubles each (about four dollars) to have our bags locked in a side room. 

But the place was so beautiful, instead of leaving, we just sank into the chairs, hopped onto the miraculously free WiFi, and lounged. About an hour later, a train departed, emptying the waiting room. From the desk on the opposite side of the room I hear:

"Devochka...." The attendant waved me over.

Devochka basically means Miss, when addressing young-ish women. Or just young woman, as a noun. 

"Devochka," she said. I swear, if she'd been wearing glasses, she would have been looking over them at me. But her eyes were still smiling. 

She continued on in Russian, which I grasped in pieces. After some struggle, I finally understood — I thought — that we had paid for only one hour of luggage storage, and if we wanted to store it longer, it would be an additional 40 rubles per hour. 

I went to get my purse, and returned with 80 rubles to pay for an additional hour for our two bags. 

"Net, Devochka..." She blinked slowly, and shook her head, then continued to speak. Pointing to where we were sitting, pointing to the menu of prices for things, pointing to the luggage room. I tried to follow her words. Was she wondering why we had paid to store our luggage and then just sat in the waiting room, when we could have just sat with our luggage? Was she trying to save me money? I sort of asked this in Russian.

"You want me get bags? Sit more with bags?" 

"NET. Devochka, devochka..." She rubbed her temples. And continued in Russian. At some point, it finally clicked. We had paid to store our bags. We had NOT paid to sit in the very nice waiting room for the last hour. AHHA. 

I asked her if it was possible to wait somewhere bez dengi, without money. She smiled, nodded, and pointed back outside, toward the other entrances. 

"It's a good life in here isn't it," she said in Russian, gesturing around the room, the high ceilings, the ornate moldings. "Cool air, music, comfortable seats, beautiful yes?"

"Da," I said, nodding. 

"Well here, it costs money." 

"Panyatna," I said. It's understandable. 

She seemed as pleased as I was that we had successfully navigated the conversation, and that my English-speaking mind had grasped the situation finally. I was so satisfied to finally know what was expected of me, I didn't mind forking over a few dollars for the hour I sat in the swanky room. 

Before we left, I heard one more slow, "Devochka..." and saw her waving me back over. 

"You are American yes?" she asked in Russian. 

"Da," I said, wary, not sure what was coming my way. But then she pulled out a crossword, and asked, of course in Russian, which I miraculously understood, "There's two main political parties in America yes? The republicans, and who else?"

After some internal translation, I brightened. "Democrats!" I practically shouted.

"Democraticheski?" she asked.

"DA!" I yelled. 

She checked to see if it fit, and was very pleased to see that it did. And then, from the kindness of her heart, she told me that I was speaking Russian very well. 

Nnoooo, I responded in Russian, I'm not speak very good, very difficult to understand things happening most time, but I'm to work better. 

She said not to worry, I was doing fine. That in general most people don't even try, and it was really great that I was doing as well as I was. 

It was probably the most wonderful moment I've had in Russia so far. 

We left our bags in storage and ventured out, spending about 15 minutes in the street arguing about where we wanted to go, before just going into the public waiting room. Decidedly LESS comfortable. But I've got to say, I can't help but notice how incredibly attractive the train stations are here. They can be surrounded by crumbling apartment blocks — ten-story cement boxes. There may be strange smells coming from the corners and back alleys. But inevitably the station is bright, and beautiful, and massive. 

Irkutsk train station. That's me to the right of the entrance. 

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