The train station in Ekaterinburg was a complete mad-house when we arrived to book tickets to our next set of destinations.  It seemed abnormal for a Monday afternoon as groups of people and piles of luggage crowded the halls.  Unknown to us (since we didn’t understand what anyone was saying) many of the trains had been severely delayed and passengers were starting to get frustrated.

I hopped in line, making sure to be close enough to physically touch the person in front of me so that no one else could cut in.  After only 10 minutes, I was at the ticket window.

The plan was to purchase tickets for the next four legs of the trip – Ekaterinburg to Omsk, Omsk to Novosibirsk, Novo. to Krasnoyarsk and Kras. to Irkutsk.

I handed over four notes with our ticket requests written in Russian.  Leg 1 – no issues.  Leg 2 – there was some problem with the booking, but the teller couldn’t speak English to explain and I couldn’t understand her explanation in Russian.

Another teller came to the window to try and help, but ended up just writing a few things in Russian and showing them to me.  We were getting no where.  Fast.

The man behind me – short, balding, a few gold teeth, mid-40’s – and his three friends started to get really upset that my transaction was taking so long and that I couldn’t understand what was going on.  I did however understand a few of his choice comments, such as, “Глупой девочкой американской” = “stupid American girl.”  I also understood the expletives.  He was charming, really.

The process was tedious – at one point the teller’s stapler wouldn’t work, then her pen ran out of ink, then she ran out of ticket paper, all of which just provoked the man more.

Meanwhile, Conor was parked across the room babysitting our packs and couldn’t do anything but watch as the man grew more and more upset and continued to verbally assault me.

I have no idea what changed in the following five minutes, but miraculously whatever the issue was seemed to be resolved.  Tickets were printed.  It took 45 minutes, 8400 Rubles ($139 USD), and every ounce of my patience not to verbally lash out at Baldy, for me to get all the correct tickets for the next 3,000 miles of the trip.

In the end, the teller forcefully reprimanded Mr. Charming and to his surprise, put him in his place.  I walked away satisfied because I understood some of her expletives too!

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