Wednesday, January 5th

I had been scanning the landscape for 2 hours without noticing any human construction. It was true that, since the river Волга (Volga) crossing near Ярославль (Iaroslavl), the train hadn’t passed through any big city except Пермь (Perm), in which I hadn’t dawdled even though it had an undeniable cultural lure.
Everybody around me seemed to be in a good mood. The sparse moments of calmness were cut by short interjections in a language that I didn’t really master yet. За ваше здоровье (your health!) and other как дела (how do you do?) quickly made way for some intonations a lot more incomprehensible. I felt a bit lonely, certainly because I was too much in my head to understand the surrounding mood.

I took my eyes off the sight and turned round. A woman was standing there, in front of me, nearly motionless. She came out with a firm tiny voice:
- Здравствуйте! (Hello!)
- Здравствуйте, I babbled somehow or other.
- Вы ездите в Новосибирск? (Are you going up to Novosibirsk?)

I took advantage of the fact that I didn’t understand any word of this sentence to answer back the only Russian expression I had learned by heart:
- Я не говорю по-русски. Вы говорете по-английски?
(- I don’t speak Russian. Do you speak English?)
- Yes, I can get by, she answered fluently.
- Oh! Can you tell me where we are?
- Yes, we’ve arriving in Ekaterinburg in two or three minutes.

She had no sooner managed to finish her sentence than a hoarse voice was heard beyond the intercom in the corner of the carriage:

« Приезд на вокзал в Екатеринбург через минуту. »
“Arrival in Ekaterinburg station in a minute.”
A short time later, the door opened and most of the passengers got off the train. The woman took my right hand; I followed her and got off too. In front of us, we discovered a heavy board where we could read:

ЕКАТЕРИНБУРГ, километр 1800

I looked up and noticed that there the sky had been replaced by a huge greyish mantle. I quickly swept the landscape with my eyes and understood the reason. Ekaterinburg was a determinedly industrial city, in the heart of Ural, the non official capital city of the region. Since its founding in 1722 by Pierre le Grand, the city had always received marks of every age it had passed through. It was adorned as well with the marvellous industrial constructions as with ancient luxury buildings. Named Sverdlovsk in communistic years, it had got back in its former named in 1991, tribute to Empress Catherine Ist.

Scene of the assassination of czar Nicolas II in 1918, this city displayed such a historical and architectural wealth that an irrepressible desire to visit this curious place crossed my mind. No sooner had I shared this idea with my neighbour than the stationmaster lifted his whistle to his lips.

Садитесь в поезд пожалуйста!
(Please get on the train!)

I hurried in order not to miss the departure.