Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
He passed it to Andrez who hefted the tool appreciatively.
'Ah, yes, thank you, this will do the job.'
With that Zawada stood under the speaker above our heads and swung the pick
into it. He then proceeded down the corridor into each of the other compartments
in our carriage knocking each speaker to bits. We sat stunned as Robert Plant
turned from his work and handed Alex back his ice tool.
'Thank you,' he said offering an urbane and wry smile. 'In Poland we do not allow
this militarism and bad taste.'
We fell into a routine of playing cards, drinking tea, talking, reading and sleeping
over the next six days. Only on one day did we succumb to temptation and dig out
a bottle of vodka, which we shared around.
We crossed the Volga at Kuybyshev, and the train snaked on through low
wooded hills. Some scenes were repeated at most of the stations where we
stopped. Apart from the vendors who moved down the platform with their trays
selling food and drink through the open windows, there always seemed to be a
camp of gypsies at one end of the platform. I was never certain if they lived there,
or were just waiting for another train. They would send their children to beg for
sugar and cigarettes and other luxuries that might be found on a train from Mo-
scow.
[3]
Two days later, we awoke at dawn in the middle of the white and arid landscape
of Kazakhstan, extending with pure consistency in all directions, perfectly flat.
Once south of the Caspian, there was a gradual transition onto the more fertile
plains of Uzbekistan. Every hour or so, we pulled onto a siding to let trains pass
headed toward distant Moscow loaded with wheat and other produce. They re-
minded me of the great freight trains of Canada, but these were even longer and
the larger gauge of Russian trains made them more massive. As many as eight en-
gines roared past us before the wagons began; there were engines in the middle
and another pack at the end rattling the windows of our carriage as they passed.
Many were adorned with images of Lenin and the ubiquitous hammer and sickle.
At times we passed freight trains on sidings letting us pass. You could always tell
which direction they were headed - produce was travelling west, trucks and tract-
ors were heading east, and once or twice, trains loaded with tanks and artillery
passed us, going who knew where.
At Bokhara, Zawada left us to fly straight to Kabul to deal with paperwork and
permissions. Jan Wolf was left in charge with 'Doc' Robert. At some time during
the last day of the journey in Uzbekistan, Voytek appeared in our compartment,
smiling and licking his lips.
