To get a feel for what it's like to be on the trans-Mongolian railway, I've compiled a timeline of our two-night journey from Ulaan Baatar to Irkutsk. This true story is complete with Mongolian smugglers, a particularly tiresome border crossing into Russia and a large Russian woman who may very well have represented her country in the Olympic shotput.
9.20pm: We board the train at Ulaan Baatar. The old-style carriages are very different to our last train. The seats are covered in carpet, which complement the wood-patterned Formica walls and my top bunk is made of the same material as the old Ruttys school bus seats, the ones your legs stick to on a hot summer day. The toilets already smell a little but at least they're segregated which I'm particularly pleased about, after waiting outside the communal toilet for 10 minutes on our last journey listening to a rather large Mongolian man hack half his chest up. Disgusted? So was I, and I had to go in after him.
10pm: Just tried to explore the rest of our train, but was stopped at the next carriage by what may very well have been Russia's entrant into the women's Olympic shotput - or possibly the men's. As we opened the carriage door she towered over us, looked us up and down and pointed back to the other carriage while muttering something in Russian. We lowered our heads and shuffled back next door to join all the other underlings in second class. We'll probably never see those gleaming first-class walls again.
5am: After a disrupted night of starting and stopping, we arrived at Mongolia's border with Russia. We discover that the journey from Ulaan Baatar to Irkutsk is not really that far in kilometres but the time is eaten up by a drawn out border crossing - which can take anything up to 11 hours!
7.45am: Woken from a light sleep by a man outside our carrriage yelling ``border control, border control!'' We open the door to find a cunning money changer, who waves a wad of notes at us. Not happy.
9am: I dash off the train to use the toilets, a timely move given they post guards on our train doors and let no further people off, and the carriage toilets are closed given we're stopped at a station.
9.20am: Some gruff passport officials in khaki uniform storm onto the train - the first of about eight passport checks that morning. Rachael, the drama teacher, draws on her acting skills in a desperate bid to use the toilet. When the guards tell her to return to her carriage, she grabs a toilet roll out of her bag and starts crying. It works, and she's escorted to the facilities.
9.45am: The Mongolian woman in the carriage next door is shoving socks, underwear and fake Adidas tracksuit pants around her carriage in a desperate bid to smuggle them across the border. It seems to be quite common, and customs officials search Mongolian nationals the most. The attendants have also asked some of our fellow travellers to accept responsibility for some blankets they want to take into Russia. Visions of Schapelle Corby race through my mind. I would definitely have refused.
10.12am: Forms to fill in.
10.10am: More forms to fill in, this time in duplicate.
11am: Time for cheese and biscuits. The highlight of my morning.
11.07am: A Mongolian woman flings our door open and asks us to take a fluorescent green towel across the border for her. We send her on her way. I don't fancy a stint in a Siberian prison, especially for a towel of such a questionable colour.
11.31am: The German shepherds are let loose on the train. I'm a little nervous, even though I have no reason to be. Officers look under our mattresses and in our bags. The Mongolian woman next door has now resorted to shoving socks down her bra, and she's about 5kg heavier due to all the black market clothes she's wearing.
1pm: Mongolian woman has succeeded - she's now shedding her extra clothes, confident that she's made it safely through the customs check. She hops off the train at the first stop across the border.
The view out the window has changed completely. The small gur camps have given way to small grey wooden houses, their dullness broken by colourful window shutters. The landscape reminds me very much of Australia.
2pm: We start an epic game of cards that lasts for four hours. Anita and I triumph twice over Damien and Rachael. Ha ha.
6pm: Dinner of instant beef noodles again.
7pm: A little bored, we bring out the Chinggis Khan vodka, join the carriage next door and listen to music all night. After a few hours, Rachael and Anita summon the courage to approach the Olympic shot putter, whose stony face cracks into a smile, albeit briefly. She still won't let us past her door though.
1am: The train rocks us to sleep.
5am: We're woken by bells ringing in the carriages.
6am: Arrive in a very chilly Irkutsk, where it's just 4 degrees. And I only bought one jumper with me. Uh oh.
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