Every two hours or so the trains stops for a while and local grandmothers sell berries, bread, onions and smoked fish as if their life depends on it, and probably it does. Their clothes look as old as themselves, their wooden houses line muddy streets.
I am on my way to the Altay mountains, where archaeologists found the oldest carpet on earth, frozen for 2500 years in a grave. I saw that carpet some weeks ago in the Hermitage. A dark room held the artifacts of the Pazyryk site and also a defrosted mummy which was smelling badly. The friendly guard switched on the lights in the display boxes, and I think she really thought I understood most of her explanations.

Back to the train, where the radio plays the same golden oldies a whole day, can't switch it off. My first evening on the rails I got invited to the restaurant section by Sergei, my friend from Kazan. He buys vodka and the game of toasting starts. Fortunately Kazan was only a couple of hours away, and I had some bread to swallow from time to time, with fish out of a can, the only available dish in this moving restaurant. During these long trips, inevitably I had to visit the toilet every now and then, with growing disgust. While I was draining the main vein, I often got tempted to give the whole installation a good watering, the floor, the window, the mirror, the washing basin, the door, everything.