Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
At midday the next day we were in a parking lot making final arrangements.
Dusty Ladas rattled over the bumpy tarmac on the nearby street. The parking lot
was boxed in with rusty old lockers and portable garages. The manager wandered
about in the sweltering heat, grazing on an ice-cream.
There was just one more thing to do, and then we could leave the wretched city
behind. We only had the one road atlas between us and needed to make a photo-
copy so that we could each have a map.
Feeling a little irritated, I made my way to a crooked watchtower where a bored
security worker sat brooding over his desk. He responded blankly to my questions.
In the meantime a short bearded man shouldered up beside me. 'What do we have
here, a traveller?'
His name was Misha. Minutes later I was in his car, roaring from one commer-
cial centre to the next. In a city of more than a million people, it was possible to
find top-of-the-line luxury cars and hi-fi equipment, but not a single bike-tube re-
pair kit or photocopier.
Unexpectedly, Misha pulled a mobile phone from his pocket. 'Go on, ring home
to Australia!' he insisted, as he swerved and overtook another Lada.
'No, do you realise how expensive it is? I can't,' I pleaded.
'Go on, just do it!'
I dialled home. 'Hello, Dad. This is Tim, just calling from Omsk,' I said.
'Tim, have you heard the sad news?' he asked almost immediately.
'No.'
'Your Scottish friend Bruce Cooper, he passed away on Thursday night. He
committed suicide.'
———
At 5.30 a.m. the next morning I slid my putrid travel clothes on, flipped a small
rucksack over my shoulder and left for Omsk Airport.
'Chris, I have never been so frightened in my life,' I whispered.
The Lada that took me to the airport broke down and I left the driver cursing and
kicking the tyres in the morning greyness. By the time I stumbled into the airport,
I was dripping wet from heavy rain.
Within twenty-four hours, I was in London waiting for a bus ride to Scotland.
Bruce's funeral was to be in a week.
From Victoria bus station, I called some friends who I hadn't spoken to in a year
or two. I hoped to find some comfort in a familiar voice, but midway through my
