Arkady helped me put in a call to Connie. She has returned home from another of her cruises, full of storms and fifty-foot waves. Her trips are always so dramatic. After hearing her familiar exuberant tones, I can’t wait to see her again. Our last meeting in Stockholm three years ago (three, I can’t believe it’s been that long!) was too short and she’s a terrible correspondent. She will take a ferry into St. Petersburg the day after tomorrow to meet me. Perfect, there’s a train I can catch tonight. She started to give convoluted directions to where her boat gets in but I stopped her, “It’s ok, I have a map, I’ll find it.”
“Oh yes, you and your maps. I forget. My God! It has been too long since I have seen you.”
This works out well. Babby can spend time reuniting with her family and I can see a bit more of Russia, something she isn’t keen on anyway, at least that’s what she says. “Now you will be alright? Are you sure?” I ask her sincerely.
“Oh course dear. I’ll be just fine here. And I promise I’ll avoid fish. And sleep. I mean I will sleep, not avoid sleep. Oh now don’t look at me like that. You look just like your mother. You go off and see your friend and explore and I will be just fine. Galina’s going to have a tea party in my honour tomorrow and I will meet her friends. I’m going to get my photos in order tonight so I can tell them all about Canada.”
‘Good luck, Galina’s friends’, I think.
At the station I got that travel thrill again. Someplace new to go to. It’s been awhile now, a year and a half I guess, ever since China. I don't count European cities that I visit for work. I spend all my time in airports and museums and offices. The museums are fine, but the rest could be anywhere in the world really.
It took me awhile to find the right train and carriage. I felt like a child learning to spell as I stood in front of the sign slowly working out the Russian Cyrillic script, but its similarity to Greek helps. It’s nice to find I can still remember my Greek from all those years ago.
I suppose early December is not a popular time to travel, as I had a compartment all to myself. The cot sheets are stiff and white, topped with several thin blankets. Despite the cold outside, I probably won’t use many, for the inside of the train is just like the inside of every building here, stiflingly hot and humid. A little hunched lady sits at the end of the carriage by a steaming samovar; does she really sit there all night? I asked in halting Russian if I could get some tea and she wordlessly brought me a glass in a decorative metal holder filled with hot tea. She also brought a spoon full of dark red jam. I tried it as the Russians do, but decided I prefer my tea jamless.
After an hour or so I was surprised to hear a weak knocking at my door whereupon the same little lady presented me with a box of dinner. Individually wrapped rolls of slightly stale bread, greasy cheese and meat slices, a limp salad, cake, cookies and fruit along with a bottle of orange drink. A veritable feast!
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