It was two full days on the train from Yekaterinburg to my next stop, Irkutsk. I met some weird and wonderful (well, more weird than wonderful) Russians along the way...

In my carriage there was an old fat windbag who complained and argued loudly and inexhaustibly. I think she was disappointed when she realised that her moaning was wasted on me because I couldn't understand it.

There was also a guy that spoke a little English and was delighted at the chance to show me what he could say, unfortunately he was also drunk as a skunk the whole time... I offered him some of my chocolate to which he responded "I don't like this, I only like meat, fish and mushrooms! And vodka!". Later he asked where I was from, when I said Ireland he grinned and replied "I like Irish whiskey!" pointing to the empty bottle above his bed. He disappeared for a few hours (presumably to find more vodka or whiskey) and came back absolutely stinking. He somehow managed to climb into his bed on the upper bunk but about an hour later he fell out and was sprawled between the floor, my bed and that of the Windbag's underneath! Still in a drunken stupor, he whimpered in pain for a while and then clambered onto the Windbag's bed (which, understandably, she wasn't best pleased about!). After a few minutes he seemed to realise where he was and climbed back up where he belonged.

Thankfully they both disembarked about halfway through the journey and were replaced by a friendly Polish girl, Linda, who works for the Polish Consulate in Irkutsk.

For most of the journey I was sat in my cabin reading but when I finished my book I went to check out the dining car on the train, which the guide books rave about being the heart and soul of the journey, a place to meet people, etc. However, when I arrived there was nobody else there (perhaps something to do with the painfully loud Russian ballads blaring from the sound system). After a while a Russian guy came in and sat at my table, he continued blabbering away at me even though it was very clear that I couldn't understand a word he was saying. He grabbed a young guy passing through the carriage and enlisted him to translate. The young guy, Sergei, was lovely and spoke great English; he quickly realised that the other guy was a bit of a creepy drunk so was trying to placate him and hold down a converstaion with me at the same time. Sergei was telling me about his wife and daughter and his friend from Canada that he'd met on the train a few years earlier; he also told me that he was the police officer on the train - I was somewhat sceptical about this since he was wearing a sleeveless t-shirt and tracksuit bottoms and drinking beer but, when I got off at Irkutsk station, I saw him on the platform in his uniform with the other police officers!