The Train to St. Petersburg

I took the overnight train on Friday night and was kind of scared. Nobody spoke English. All signs were in the Crylllic Russian language. Thank god for universal numbers.

I stopped a girl and asked in Russian, "Hello, can you help me?" She just stared at me. I whipped out my unintelligible ticket and she pointed toward the 3rd-class carriage.

I smoked a cigarette, anxious. There were military men idling about, intimidating in their dark green coats, brass buttons and big Russian hats.

Finally, I entered the carriage.

I sat down on the nearest bed and brought out my ticket again, trying to decipher where I was supposed to go. The woman in charge came over and said some things loudly that I of course didn't understand.

One thing that is very different about the Russian people is that they require significantly less personal space than Americans. That means they get right up close and talk in your face.

I have memorized the following phrase: Ya ni pani ma hyoo Parushki. Izviniti!

"I do not understand Russian. Sorry!"

She grabbed my coat sleeve and pulled me toward my bed. Pointed at the number and at my ticket.

The three people sharing my car looked at me with interest. I just stood there and said "Good evening. Hello. Good evening." Seeing that I was clearly clueless, they took charge. One of the men grabbed my backpack and hoisted it into the space above my head. One of the ladies helped me purchase sheets to rent and actually made my bed for me. I felt very very foolish but also very grateful. I said "Spasiba! Bolshoye Spasiba!" (Thank you! Thank you very much!")

One of the other men pointed at me and said something. "Ya ni pani ma hyoo. Ya ni pani ma hyoo. Izviniti," I said, because that is almost all I know how to say.

He pointed at me and said "India? India?"

Ah, now I understood. "Nyet," I responded. "Amerikanski." (I doubt this is the right way to say it).

The man's face registered complete surprise. "American?" he said, like he couldn't believe it.
"Dah, dah, American," I said in a whisper. But of course it was no good. I could hear whispers of "Americanski! Americanski!" up and down the beds of the train carriage.

The next morning, the ladies gave me tea and the man gave me cigarettes. Using my phrase book, pointing to some words and making several gestures of linking arms and pointing to my finger, to the amusement of everyone in the room, he asked me to marry him and take him home to America.