Trains

I had heard rumors about Russian trains before when I mentioned to my Russian friend my interest in a trans-Siberian adventure. She wouldn’t go into details, but just wore a smirk on her face. I found out today what that smirk was all about.
We had our first adventure outside of Moscow today to the monastery Sergeyev Possad. It’s about 60 km (I guess) outside of Moscow, which necessitated travel by train. I was really surprised at how cheap the tickets were: 60 rubles (2 dollars) one-way. But, that price began to make sense when I entered the train.
Even before you step off of the platform some major disparities between Russian rail and Western European rail are identified: there is a foot-wide gap between the entrance to the train and the platform. It looked to me like a broken hip ready to happen, especially considering the number of elderly folk riding.
Entering the carriage, the doors were spring loaded so that you would have to fight to keep them open. Finding a seat is not difficult as long as you don’t mind sharing with a stranger (which I don’t). However, sitting in the seat for an extended period of time is a bit uncomfortable unless you are used to sitting against walls; the seats are not designed for long-distance travel or comfort. No big deal though, I am young.
The most interesting thing about the train is the constant flow of pan-handlers and small time salespeople who cycle through the carriages at steady intervals. One of them will stand up at the front of the car and start his sales-pitch, or appeal, or song, and then slowly move down the length of the car ready to make a sale or take in a spare ruble. As soon as one person is done, the next one come in and starts her spiel, and the whole ordeal continues the entire duration of the trip.
There would be one woman selling a toy remote controlled car, then another selling what looked like napkin holders? There was a legless man who walked on his knees down the aisle, and several people on crutches. It’s difficult, because you want to help but you can’t give money to everyone, and who knows where it’s going? The Russians have told me that a lot of these people work for someone, and have to give the money back to higher brass. I guess it’s maybe like in the movie Slumdog Millionaire, where the kids go and beg for the profit of some man in the background. Terrible.
One kid was really impressive. This boy must have been about 12 years old, he was dark skinned, maybe looked like an Afghan or Georgian or something like that. He played the accordion really well and sang a song in Russian. I found myself closing my book to watch him perform. I slipped him a few rubles as he walked by, who knows if he’ll get any of it, but I hope he does.