I slept for about 12 hours Friday night after arriving in Moscow. I asked at the front desk for late check-out. Around 3 pm I ventured out for some train provisions, looking for what in Russia is called a “Productee”, a small grocery store. I quickly found one…..many are located on the ground floor of apartment blocs. This one was typical, crowded, with some poor guy mopping the aisles endlessly. At first you are reluctant to walk on his floor until you realize he could care less---his job is to clean the floors and he goes right back over where you walked without a second thought.

I quickly bought “kolbasa” (the ubiquitous Russian sausages---tasty!), some dark bread( hleb), a large bottle of water(mistakenly bought carbonated---you always need to check for this), and a small bottle of Armenian cognac. Sorry France, but Armenia makes tasty cognac. Russians seem to prefer it. It was getting cold in Moscow this afternoon---nearing 10 degrees F and I hop it back to my hotel, finish packing---I am traveling very light this time: a small backpack and a tiny duffel. It is always snowing a little in Russia at this time, the sky spitting little dry flakes, not much accumulation. About 4pm I am out the door for my 8 block hike to Paveletskaya train station in Central Moscow. My train is at 6:13pm but I like to be early---a nod to my Dad, a WWII vet who was never late to anything.

I get to the station, which takes up a big city block---this place is now familiar to me, my 3^rd time there in 3 years. I’m a regular. The place is bristling with police as always. Russia has its own terrorism issues due to the unsettled unending Caucasus smoldering rebellion in addition to now the resentment for Syria. My luggage goes through a metal detector, but I am waved through in a friendly fashion. I’ve shaved my head for this trip and am wearing a flannel camo. I think I may look a little Russian. The only costume that could have improved upon this would be the Russian man- on- the- train uniform of a track suit. I wait upstairs in the big room. It has been spiffed up a bit. Russia is looking good these days---especially Moscow. About 300 people of various stripes are seated in a big hall in front of a huge electronic sign indicating trains and tracks. The guy behind me is seated eating a couple of hard-boiled eggs out of a plastic bag. A group of Russian rich kids go by with skis in tow. A few drunk fellas are staggering around but seem harmless enough. At one point a couple of young guys alert a cop to a fellow sleeping on the floor----he goes over and rouses him---somewhat kindly. As I have observed previously this seems to be the norm---no escalation, no arrest, no tasering. Police here are serious but do not seem to overreact.

Around 5:45, the track assignment for my train goes up. Track 3. I shoulder up and head down to the platform. The cold now hits you like a fist. People are waiting outside their assigned cars(wagon). I am in #11. First class. I am not a splurger---I fly economy, drive 10 year old cars, bring my lunch---but I like Russian trains and I like their 1^st class. It is actually not very expensive---$120 for 600km and 15 hours with a bed, a meal. It turns out I don’t even share a compartment, a first for me. In about 5 minutes the providnitz opens the door. There is an older couple before me, the providnitz checks my passport, checks my ticket printed online, tells me my berth number(#11 just like the wagon, odeenatzit) I completely blank on this for some reason and he has to say, “you are in eleven”. He smiles and is very kind. Right at 6:13pm there is a jolt and we are off. Have I said I like Russian trains?