12,000 Miles by Train

Evening Star, Issue 19614, 21 July 1927, Page 13

12,000 Miles by Train

Windows Frozen Down Immovably Trans-Siberian Express Trackless Oceans of Snow [The Diary of a Journey from London to Australia via Russia and China, by J. G Paton.— Copyright.] VIATKA Ist—On the Trans-Siberian. Express. No. XT. It is our second night out from Moscow, in tlio self-con-tained train that is to b'o the homo of wo few score people of mixed nationalities for tho next fortnight. Already wo seem, to have become a world in ourselves, and the yesterdays that were spent in various European capitals a long way off.

Moscow was left in the dusk, and the last vision through the shadows was tho church spires and the towers of the old worn buildings rising over the endless waste of snow. For that is tho chief impression these days—snow, snow, and then more snow. Like a liner ploughing its way through trackless oceans, except that the sea has given place to tho white pall that spreads over everything, from the slippery station platform to the stacks of logs and the wooden houses that skirt tho track. NO FRESH AIR. Tho windows of my carriage arc immovable, frozen down and then, lest Nature relent of its gloom, nailed into place so that some foolish barbarian Anglo-Saxon may not allow fresh air to annoy the hardy Easterners, who are born and bred in an atmosphere of muffled overcoats and stifled nostrils. And now that we arc at least on the real part of th.e journey and have left the luxury and tho familiar stopping places of European railways there is a feeling of fatality, as though we arc cut off from the rest of civilisation, and come what may, wc will have to grin and put up with it, simply because there is nothing else sensible to do. My companion, thank heaven, is an .Englishman, and has no objection to open ventilators. LIKE OUR TRAINS. Tho train itself is very similar to an Australian interstate express—a narrow corridor running along the compartment or cabins. These are either two, three, or four berth, according to tho class and the amount paid for passage. The cabin is perhaps slightly smaller than those in our own trains. In the day one of our bunks fold up to the roof, while the other is converted into a couch. Otherwise wc have no further room. A small room with Washbasin links each two cabins, the doors being automatically locked on each side by tho movement of one handle. But there is no bathroom nor shower on the train. Ono provides one’s own towels and soap, and laundry is charged for tho washing of bed linen. In order to have a bath or even a decent wash it will be necessary to Stand up in the basin, or rather kneel (because there would nob bo space between it and tho roof to stand), and make a general mess of tho floor with sponge and soap suds. In tho winter this is not so inconvenient, except for the cold, but I am told that in the summer tho dust is so bad that a daily

bath ceases to become a luxury—even in Russia. TAKE OLD SUIT. My companion has made the trip several times before, and thanks to the tip he gave me before we reached Mospow, I have provided myself with many accessories that are essential if the journey is to be made in comfort. In case any Australians are thinking of making the trip, I will pass on his advice. Be sure to carry old clothes, and if you travel in summer take a complete outfit, from hat to boots, that you are willing to throw away on quitting the train. Otherwise you will ruin a perfectly good suit, for a fortnight in such cramped space is ruinous on clothes. Secondly, it is wise to cater for warmth in the shape of overcoats and rugs and balaclavas, rather than underclothes. The latter are not easily removed, and the difference in atmosphere and the necessity for sudden extra clothing depends on whether you arc inside or outside the train.

The. carriages themselves arc heated to a- fault. Last night I lay with a sheet over me and perspired, although the actual temperature outside the train was well below zero.

Overcoats can easily be discarded, and with the frequent stops it is convenient to he able to change one’s clothing in a few seconds. Two Russians, blank-faced and somewhat surly,, attend to our beds and odd necessities. They make them up between 9 and 10 o’clock at night, and if you aren’t ready for bed that is your fault. It is wise to refrain from arguing- and quit your cabin, and then sit up on the prepared hunk, else the “stewards” may take it into their heads that if you arc not sleepy they are, and leave you to do your own bedmaking. < THE SICKLE AND HAMMER. 1 The corridor leads to other carriages, and at the rear 1 of the train is the dining room Otherwise there is no parlor nor library nor smoking room, as, I understand, was the case before Communism decided that the international sleeping cars that ran on tho line before the revolution were much better under the control of Soviet officials—especially when confiscation was so much more simple than purchase. The tumblers in our, cabin and tho table utensils in tho dining room aro still marked with the old company’s stamp, except where they have been replaced by poorer spoons and lorks stamped with tho familiar sickle and hammer of the new Russia. On tho whole tho accommodation is sufficient, but not luxurious.