Midnight in Siberia: A Train Journey into the Heart of Russia (35 page)

Andrei Gorodilov in Sagra with (from left to right) his friend Andrei, father Viktor, and the attorney who helped villagers avoid prosecution after a skirmish with a criminal gang. The episode, Andrei said, was a reminder that Russia remains dysfunctional and unpredictable. “It’s the worst thing to be born into a time of change,” he said. “We were children of perestroika. Born in one country, grew up in another, and now live in a third. And who knows what’s next?”

A true space souvenir! A week after a meteorite buzzed the city of Chelyabinsk, and plunked into a nearby lake, residents discovered small black pebbles—presumably, galactic debris. A teenager in the village of Yemanzhelinka pulled this pebble from his pocket and let me hold it, a powerful moment for a
Star Wars
nut like myself.

These apartment buildings in Chelyabinsk are pretty typical in Russia. They appear decrepit on the outside, but inside, many families take pride in making their flats warm and welcoming, with tea always available for visitors.

This shot was taken after a long night at the
banya
in Uva, Russia. I hit the bathhouse with a doctor named Vasily. We steamed, drank vodka, ate horse sausage, and tackled the world’s problems. As he put it, “If you and I ran the two countries, there would have been no Cold War!” (This may have been the vodka talking more than Vasily.)

Ivan Kichilin, flashing the peace sign, with his friend Evgeni Barandin. Ivan was orphaned as a teenager when both parents died from illness. He begged the Russian government to defer his mandatory year of military service, but they refused. That tough training, Ivan says, “makes
Russians
.” You find many young men return from the service hardened.

After leaving Moscow and traveling across the world’s biggest country, to finally see Russia’s Pacific coast gave me chills. I was searching for some poetic ending, so I went to this spit of land extending into the bay near Vladivostok. Quiet reflection was rudely interrupted by this gas-guzzling, four-car ferry that
put-put-putt
ed its way to the shore, slammed into a rock, piled cars on, then loudly made its way off into the bay again. (
David Gilkey/NPR
)

My wife, Rose, with Alexei Kamerzan at a café in Novosibirsk. Alexei’s mom was among those who benefited financially from the Soviet collapse, filling the void when state companies broke up. She started a carpet empire that her son helps to run today. Alexei went to college in the United States and vacations abroad. He thinks Putin’s last election victory was rigged, calling that “unpleasant, but not such a big deal.”

Heading to the station at dusk in Novosibirsk, Siberia’s largest city, to board an overnight train east to Krasnoyarsk.

The Siberian city of Krasnoyarsk, surrounded by gorges and snow-capped mountains, is Siberia’s most gorgeous city, according to the great Russian writer Chekhov. I could not disagree.

A bride and groom posing for photos at a river overlook just outside Krasnoyarsk. The couple and their friends were all smiles, exuding a warmth that seemed to melt away the troubles faced by so many in this country—at least for this fleeting afternoon.

Men from Central Asia use the Trans-Siberian to travel deep into Russia, looking for construction work. Our seatmate is from Uzbekistan. In intimate third-class quarters, you are all but on top of fellow passengers. This photo was taken from Sergei’s bunk. My bed is above Sergei’s, and Rose’s bed is just above where this man is sitting. We shared dessert, but the language barrier made conversation tough.