I feel the slight jolt that means the resumption of walking. We already left the station Taiga, where we have stopped for forty-six minutes, and where I have gone down to the platform to stretch my legs and buy water. There are still two hours and three minutes until the next stop, which will take place at the station Run 1, and it will only be two minutes. With the indisputable punctuality of Russian trains, This series of data that I have consulted on the panel that reports all the stops before sitting down is a guarantee. I look at my book. I decide to postpone continuing reading for a few minutes., until we have left the Taiga and the landscape is pure forest again, and more monotonous. Once we got back on track, I check how life in the wagon, which is actually a traveling micro-city, begins to gradually return to normal.
The three girls who occupy the room next to mine, that I have right in front of me, en el place card, the third class of Russian trains, they play chasing each other through the beds, climbing to those at the top with astonishing ease. Two of them look almost the same age., The other appears to be a couple of years younger.. The father, sitting, consult an electronic device, impassive.
Taiga gives her last blows, showing us the last wooden houses
I look askance behind, where is the last room before the end of the car on that side, and I realize that the man who had been lying, snoring - luckily not too loud -, Has been incorporated, perhaps as a sign of respect towards the fat woman, almost obese, who has boarded the train in Taiga, with a huge suitcase, with a more than adequate equivalence towards its owner. Certainly, a young boy has entered with her, almost certainly his son, thick, and now it's not there. I turn around to see if at least his suitcase is there., but not so. Maybe it is located in another car, or maybe it's not your son. Outside, Taiga gives her last blows, showing us the last wooden houses, with gabled metal roof.
The number of roads is reduced, while the freight cars are left alone again, waiting patiently for the next time it is their turn to move.. Two boys sitting on stools between two of the rails watch the train move forward.. The booths give way to the gray factories and the skeletal work cranes, which represent the last remnant of the urban core.
I return to my place confirming that everyone continues to occupy their rightful place
I go to the bathroom. I don't go to the one behind me, but at the other end of the car, to make my walk a little longer. The “climbing” girls stop their game to look at me as I pass by.. A stay beyond, a prototype of a Russian woman, blonde and with very marked cheekbones, look through the window, sitting to the right of what I imagine is her husband.
I advance to another room and see a girl of about twenty reading a book that, I didn't take long to confirm, is written in the Cyrillic alphabet. Just before reaching my goal, passing through the provodnik's compartment-office-kitchen, the wagon attendant, always present on Russian trains. looks at me, perhaps surprised that I have broken the unwritten rule of going to the nearest bathroom. Inside the service, the window is closed, which prevents me from seeing the landscape, making the completion of the procedure that brought me there more boring than usual. I finish and discover that the mechanisms for activating the cistern and for flushing water from the sink are slightly different than what I am used to.. I leave and return to my seat confirming that everyone is still in their rightful place..
Outside, cables and electrical posts are the only evidence of human work that can be seen
I read a chapter of the book that accompanies me during the trip. The end of that short reading period coincides with the provodnik passing by my side, on its way to the room that is behind me. He gives the thick woman her package with sheets and towel, and returns to his office-kitchen compartment. The thick woman has started talking to the snoring man.
Outside, cables and electrical posts are the only evidence of human work that can be seen, insignificant before the immensity of the Siberian forest, that with different shades of green imposingly challenges anyone who dares to look at it. After a few seconds, a group of residential buildings in the distance, belonging to who knows what population center, break the charm, demonstrating the ephemerality of each experience and each sensation on board. A section of huge metal pipe begins to appear, making the situation even worse. The forest responds, overwhelming, expelling the two annoying visitors just mentioned from my field of vision. We crossed a swampy area, perhaps the result of a few hours of heavy rain, perhaps a delayed remnant of the thaw season.
The snoring man has begun to slice a bar of choped with a knife.
Behind me, The snoring man has begun to slice the chopstick he was carrying in a bag with a knife., and accompanies it with pinches of a huge block of bread. The woman in front of him looks around at different places in the car., although he stops her relatively frequently in the meals of his roommate.
The prototype of a Russian woman comes towards the bathroom at our end of the car., showing her impressive cleavage, and looking over the disposition of people, luggage and other objects in the different rooms. My book, leaning on the small table in front of me, holds his gaze for a few seconds. The contained cry, not runaway, of the youngest of the three girls in the room that I have in front of me, breaks the silence that often predominates in the carriage environment.
Through the window, some sunflowers, happy for the presence of the sun, They introduce yellow to the range of colors that the eyes of all of us on board can appreciate.. I decide that a new chapter will occupy the next few minutes of the journey. There is nothing more wonderful in train travel than that alternation between the chapter of a book, look at the landscape and observe life in the wagon. And start again...
