The women in the Green Blouse must be punished...notes from Hell Train (posting from the road)

Apprehension rose in us all as we approached our first border-crossing train...the carriage assigned to us looked vastly different then those around it. our decripte, sad looking car was the only car set to cross the Mongolian Border - sadly that was not the only difference. I never dreamed that I would describe the Russian train attendents at friendly but in comparison to their Mongolian counterparts...they seem like a Carol Brady mother-figure.

We now longer had the luxury of 6 beds on 2 private cabins for our group, this means that two of us would be sharing with the locals. I am sure some of you are saying...that sounds like fun, part of the expereince. Just wait. I am fortunate that the decision was made to isolate the girls in one cabin leaving Pete and Will to share with, what turned out to be, Mongolia's top opthamologist and his son. Our cabin was still quite cozy however as we had to fit all of our luggage, some overfill of the boy's bags and crates of bananas in our cabin. We tried to remove the bananas from our cabin but the train attendenant angrily charaded that they belonged to her and they should remain right where they were.

Border-crossing trains seem to be like an import/export business with all of our train mates stocking up. People boarded the trains with microwaves, bicycles, pastries, eggs and crates of assorted items. The opthamoligist was no exception...Will and Pete had very little space to store any of their luggage with the overflowing amounts of items crammed into their space. To actually make thier cabing a little more uncomfortabe was the stentch of cooked chicken and Siberian spring onions were left on the to contintue to bake on the hot train. Needless to say, they spent quite a bit of time in our carriage, attempting to breath fresher air.

I cannot recall if I mentioned this before but the trains are all equipped with 2 washrooms, one at either end, and then the ability to walk between carriages in front and behind you. Not our car. We were locked in the train car with only access to one washroom, the attendents locked the other one and used it for personal use. To make it even worse, there were times the would lock the other washroom (which they need to do at stops) and then not unlock it when were were moving again. Of course we can't even try another car as we were trapped on our own carriage. This lead to a necessary covert Bristish Gas Key operation.

Nature calling, we needed to access the washroom. Pleading with train overloard, we were continuely denied - matters had to be taken into our own hands...we snuck down to the washroom...and one person standing guard, pretending to take photos, one by the door and one in the facility that we unlocked with the contraband British Gas Key. Operation Washoorm Access worked like a charm, for me...I was in and out in record time. Things then fell apart - we didn't plan for a snitch.

All passengeres should have rallied together, regardless of nationality for access to toilet facilities. But no, there was a women with a green blouse one...and she was against us...upon seeing something fishy going on, she marched down, found the attendent and told on us! Well that Mongolian Train Dictator marched down that aisle, pushing Sarah and I aside on no time and flung open the door on poor Tricia who was unable to hear our warning cries over the grind of the tracks. She really didn't do much at the discovery of a squatter (no pun intended) in the facilities...she just stormed away, bewildered as to how we accessed the room at all.

So, to sum up our journey this far...only one washroom for up to 36 people (I won't even begin to discuss the cleanliness of it), no access to other cars (including the food car), the hot water is not available (I forgot to mention that!! you try eating dried Ramen pot noodles), contraband bananas loading up ar cabin as we prepare to cross a border, 6 of us trying to cram in to one cabin to avoid the putrid smell of the othamologists chicken and onion buffett - now we have slightly relieved bladders but a totally pissed train attendent and arch nemisis in the green-blouse women.
We have no idea if we will be permitted to leave the train over the next 8+ hours...only time will tell...but I will say this, extra time for us will not work out well for the green blouse women...extra time for us means...revenge will be sweet.

p.s. the top photo was taken after we awoke one morning to discover all other cars behind us gone... hopefully on purpose...