My Forthcoming Book, Extract One – On A Train To Lviv (Lvov) from Sevastopol

To set the scene, Hamish and I had taken the twenty-five hour train journey from the Crimea to Lviv near the Polish border. This episode takes place after breakfast, seventeen hours into the journey………..

Bedlam

An announcement instructed passengers to bring their bedding to the end of the carriage. We didn’t understand a word of course, but as everybody rose in unison, bundled their sheets, blanket and pillowcases together and carried them towards the large lady (a Hattie Jacques lookalike from the film Carry on Nurse), in starched white uniform, white peaked cap and the sort of slippers given away free at up-market hotels, stood open armed at the end of carriage, we quickly got the message.

We followed suit but encountered a problem. Hamish could not locate his pillow so had no pillowcase to return. Hattie J was counting everything in and demanded to know where my mates’ pillowcase was.

Again we did not understand the demands but knew instantly what the problem was and that it presented an issue for us.

There were at least ten people behind us now straining under the weight of their bundles that included thick blankets. It was Hamish’s turn to feel eyes piercing into his person. He could only go bright red and shrug his shoulders. I really hoped that this body language universally meant ‘I don’t know’ rather than being some sort of insult in Ukraine.

In any case, Hamish was commanded to stand aside and wait. He understood the hand signals and imperative tone perfectly and obeyed instantly.

I had to stifle an enormous belly laugh welling up inside me as he stood there awaiting his fate like a naughty schoolboy.

My four items were counted in and I was free to go. Taking pity on my friend, I joined him in waiting. The expressions of the fellow passengers as they handed in their bedding were unforgiving. I wondered whether in previous times Hamish’s crimes could have led to a spell in some Siberian salt mines. You would have thought so by the stern looks that were now pointed in our direction.

The rest of the bedding was counted in without incident and Hattie then beckoned us to follow her to our seat. When there she bellowed to our section companions, clearly asking who had the missing pillow. Either nobody had or were not admitting to it anyway. You would have to be pretty desperate to pinch a Ukrainian Railways issue pillow that had lost all ability to cushion your head comfortably many years before.

Thankfully we were spared the ignominy of everybody in the vicinity having to empty the contents of their luggage, boxes and bundles. Now that would have been embarrassing and caused a complete and abrupt end to any goodwill towards hapless foreigners.

Hamish searched his area one more time but no luck. We were then beckoned to follow Hattie once more, me going along for moral support (more like not wanting to miss what promised to be a very humorous spectacle)! The couple opposite shook their heads as if to say ‘this is no way to treat a visitor to our country.’ This worried us somewhat and made the walk behind Hattie seem like the long march to the electric chair. We had no idea where we were going or what the result would be.

After eight carriages of gawping faces, we arrived at the guard’s room. Hattie explained the misdemeanour. ‘You must pay fine’ was the guard’s instant command. Not the most welcome news for Hamish, but at last some English instruction (no doubt well practiced), so at least now we knew that Siberia was off the agenda.

The swarthy guard with steel rimmed spectacles and cap several sizes too small, then stood on a wooden box to allow him to reach the shelf above him. He brought down a large black book, blew away a cobweb and leafed through its pages until he found what he was looking for.

He pointed out some Cyrillic writing with a number and symbol next to it indicating an amount of 80 Hryvnia. Hamish was about to get upset until I pointed out that this was about €5. Not too bad we supposed. However, he was not finished.

He then pointed to another line, about €2 and finally a third line, about €1.

We figured this to be pillow, case and admin fee for €8 in total. Of course the guard had no change for a €10 note so that is what the episode cost Hamish.

I found the whole experience hilarious but Hamish did not yet find it funny and wanted to find the toe rag that had pinched his pillow and caused him such hassle. The fact that every now and then I started laughing uncontrollably, did nothing to lighten his mood!

2015/01/img_3699.jpg

The marathon concludes…………

We remarkably pulled into Lviv station on time. It was almost dark already so went directly to the hotel by taxi. We were both suffering from the curse of the only living dinosaur (ivasorearse) having sat for so long. We nodded farewell to our fellow passengers and Hamish had one last look for his missing pillow. I wished he had found it as it would have been fabulous comedy to see him try to get his €10 back!

4 comments

  1. […] You can read about an amusing (hilarious for me!) incident concerning a missing pillow towards the end of our journey, by clicking pillowgate. […]

    Like

  2. I’m sure we met this lady on our train trips from Kherson to Kyiv. Once, Stanley (husband) lost an item of bedding – pillow case seems most likely – and endured the same experience as Hamish. He found his, and learned the care of linens to never again to face the wrath of the post-soviet train maiden. Love this story so well-told and so true!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Brilliant! I am sure it was really a scam to fleece rich foreigners of a few euro!

      Liked by 1 person

  3. […] from the book on this blog over the coming weeks and you can already read a couple by clicking on Crimea & […]

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: