Thursday, January 6th

One day and more than a thousand miles later, an icy sun was standing upon our heads. We had been in Siberia for several hours. After a stop in Тюмень (Tyumen), the oil capital of the region, the train had crossed wide Russian steppes and Иртыш (Irtych) river. The curtain of greenery which had appeared near Омск (Osmk), a big Siberian centre, had pleased everybody again.

Macha was standing by my side, who had finally told me her name. We were looking at the other passengers who were busy decorating the carriage from top to bottom. After having a glance at my dictionary, I went up to her to murmur:
- Что они делают ?
- Они украшают вагон на сегодня вечером.
- Сегодня вечером ? Что произойдёт ?
- Вечером это рождество !

(- What are they doing?)
(- They are decorating the carriage for tonight.)
(- Tonight? What’s happening?)
(- Tonight, it’s Christmas!)

I was killing myself laughing:
- But Christmas, it was two weeks ago!
- In Western Europe maybe, but not here. Christmas Eve is tonight in Russia.


Suddenly, I remembered what my former teacher used to say. In Russia, Дед-Мороз (Father Freeze) and his daughter Снегурочка (Sniegourotchka) come and give presents to children on Christmas Eve. Father Freeze is in fact the former Морок (Morok), god of cold, who has turned his legendary nastiness into sweetness since he has come with Весна (Vesna), goddess of spring.


I shut my eyes and listened to the voices of my neighbours. Some children were singing koliadovanies to cast out demons; their parents were laughing and drinking. Yes, it was effectively Christmas Eve. While some pictures of Russian celebrations I had seen during my childhood ran in my head, the train entered Novosibirsk station:

НОВОСИБИРСК, километр 3300

The city was spreading over right in the middle of Siberia region. Founded in 1893 to give a stop to Trans-Siberian on the greatest and longest Russian river, the Ob, it was the house of around 1.5 million inhabitants. This place was certainly the 3rd Russian centre after Moscow and St Petersburg, at least intellectually speaking, thanks to its famous university and its several theatres. The Siberian capital was a great place to start discovering Altai Mountains which were not so far.


Macha told me that Novosibirsk was her terminus and she would leave me soon. I had a quick glance at the timetable in the middle of the station, and then decided to catch up with Macha to invite her to dinner. She smiled at me and escorted me to a little restaurant in the suburbs.

On the way, I was filled with wonder by the over-decorated streets. Even the entrance of the shop in front of me was full of pieces of tinsel. Only the sign took off its decorations to let some Cyrillic letters appear: Ресторан (Restaurant). We had arrived.
We entered the restaurant and sat down on a bench in front of a table covered with hay, as Russian Christmas tradition wanted. Koutia, a kind of rice and corn pulp, soon arrived on the table and in our stomach. Koliadki, made with cream cheese and flour, did too.
Then came the hour when Macha left.

С Рождеством!
(Merry Christmas!)