People scurry on the platform with their luggages and carriages full
of boxes with shoes, clothes, beauty products and food bought cheaply
in Moscow to be sold in Mongolia or even on the train. Hundred of jars
of russian caviar lay broken on the kay and the small grains are
swimming away in the pouring rain. A Mongolian man is sitting on his
empty carrier disabled by the two square meters of goods collapsed on
the ground, products spread everywhere. The unpacking on train
continues late into the night. People running in the corridor shouting
and storing their belongings into holes in the floor or make small
stores in their cabins. And they take out their goods to sell to local
people on the platform on each stop. Passers-by turn the handle on all
closed doors to check if there is room for new comers. I wonder
assumingly, do they check where there is money to get? But as I
believe people are inherently good, I quickly brush aside this
thought. After a restless night with many stops and bumpy take offs, I
go to buy hot water from the samovar (Russian tea boiler). Five
hundred rubles, one person for five days the Mongolian train hostesse
says. It seems reasonable for it is written chai something in
mongolian two hundred rubles on the sign above the samovar. I pay
thousand rubles for me and JC and return to our cabin happy to have
managed this endeavor in Russian and at the same time secured our
soups for the journey. Two hours later, the Belgian next door tells us
that water is free on board. His mongolian roommate confirms it when I
ask. I go to claim my money back and get it without any sign of shame.
'You have to be aware' JC says in his pepp talk as I return. 'think of
Narine how she checks the prices and bargain. You have to do it for us
to be a winning team', he concludes. I decide it is just a
misunderstanding, after all the hostesse did't speak Russian. Marie
