The heat so far had been just about bearable as the train pushed along at a respectable 60MPH but as we approached the border, things took a turn for the worse. The train slowed to 35MPH and turned to allow the afternoon sun direct contact with the windows in the corridor. The reduction in speed also meant a decrease in ventilation and it is perhaps now that I should describe to you some of the unique features of Soviet trains. Firstly, they were built with the sole purpose of moving people from place to place and so no consderation was ever given to the comfort of the passengers. Secondly, whenever the train stops at a border, you are not allowed to use the toilet, get off, or in some cases move between carriages. The only thing worse than a border crossing in the heat is one where the entire train has to have it's wheels changed in order to continue the journey down European gauge track as they don't let you get off for this either. In total, you are in a mostly sationary sauna for around 5 hours and this is what we suddenly realised would be the case.
None of the windows in the Kupes open at all and only every other window in the corridor slides down a tantilising 6 inches from the top. The handrail protrudes into your stomach just enough to make you stick your head forward and stand in the same way as you would if peering over the edge of a cliff. If you stand on the tips of your toes you can just about manage to get some contact between the outside air and the upper part of your fringe. If this were not uncomfortable enough try to consider that in this position your eyes are now completely level with the top of the window pane allowing you no visibility whatsover yet you are able to receive regular punches to the bridge of your nose. This whole act of contortion is somewhat assuaged by whispers of hot air across your sweat-soaked brow that are nearly as infrequent as the pockets of cloud that block the sun.
The alternative to carrying out this vertical yoga is to return to your Kupe and sit on the bed. After about 30 seconds the heat becomes so unbearable that even your teeth start to sweat and every cell in your body demands you return to the corridor to carry on snogging the window. The rest of the passengers, who by the way are nearly all half naked, are looking more and more concerned as time goes on as some of them have small children for whom this is certainly not the right environment. After we have been relieved of our passports once more, the train pulls away from the platform for about 300M before returning to the other side of the station where a fascinating yet very labour intensive practice takes place, changing the gauge of the train.
Soviet paranoia took many forms but one of the more extreme decisions was to build all of the railways within the Soviet Union in a different gauge to the rest of the continent, just in case an invading country wanted to roll in it's forces by rail. The train is split into to 2 lots of 4 carriages and lined up side by side. The carriages are then split into their individual units and jacked up about 5 feet above the bogies allowing them to be shoved out from underneath and replaced with a new set for the onward journey. The work is done by hoardes of well experienced engineers and (if you can keep the sweat out of your eyes) the whole process is very interesting to watch.
It was around this time that I met a beautiful girl called Valeria who was hoping that either Stas or I had a cooler as we were both sporting cans of ice cold Chisinau lager. Sadly we were unable to help as the beer had come from Stas who managed to 'defect' from the carriage shortly before they started to replace it's wheels. Valeria spoke perfect English and explained that although she is Moldovan she lives and studies in Bucharest and had just been home to visit her parents. As she had made this journey several times I asked if this was the worst yet to which she replied "Yes, it is!".
After we have had got our passports back we headed over the border to Romania which marked the 50% point of my trip! The checkpoint at Iasi is about half a mile short of the main station and when Steve learnt that we were to spend 2 hours there for Romanian customs only to be finally allowed to travel for 2 more minutes and then get off, he was a very unhappy man indeed! Just then, a Romanian border guard weaved his way through the corridor and said to Valeria "I can't believe you're all still alive!". We couldn't either and with that, Steve said his goodbyes, grabbed his bag and as far as we could tell, jumped the fence, dodged the bullets and headed off to Iasi.
When we had been reunited with our passports for the last time we were finally allowed off the train and to stand on the platform. It's amazing how grateful you are to someone when they stop doing what you didn't want them to do anyway. It's like someone sticking a knife in your arm for 40 minutes for no reason at all and at the point they remove it you say "Ooh, thank you VERY much!". Meanwhile back on the platform Valeria had spotted a drinks stall at the end of the platform and like an absolute angel bought us each a pair of cold, still, bottles of water! We sat on the platform and talked for the next 30 minutes about life, the universe and everything before we were herded back on the train for the last time to face the last leg of the journey to Bucharest. After a brief turn at headbutting the timber we returned to our beds and tried to get some sleep. Despite the heat this did actually happen and when I woke up it was a beautiful sunny day in what some regard as Europe's ugliest capital city.
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