M-whY

They'd eventually quiet down though. I got my first good look at my new mates at daybreak: A family of Mongolians had joined the one already occupying the cabin. I wonder if I woke them up - if so, good, just returning the favor - and first thing they did after making breakfast was finish putting things away. Their 'luggage', I discovered, wasn't really luggage. As with the case of with Suren two days ago, it was more like inventory. Mostly winter clothing: Sweaters, jeans, coats, gloves. One thing was certain. They came prepared for the climate.

I watched them for an hour, then wandered out to see if I was the only one unfortunate enough to be stuck in a warehouse. Maybe this is punishment, I thought, for my disdain for shopping. Apparently not. A quick peek in the other cabins showed 80% of the carriage were Mongolians, and all of them had packed the room with inventory. I wasn't sure what to make of it. Was this how people shipped stuff here?

Eduardo and his wife Maureen had mived in with Russian couple the night before, effectively filling a four person room. They had subsequently locked the doors and been spared the midnight invasion and madness I was now a part of. Alexandr spoke a few words of english, not enough to build complete sentences, but enough to explain what was going on.

"They're going to sell it at the stations," said Eduardo, who heard it from the Russian earlier.

And that's exactly what happened. At Achinsk, a mob of people were waiting to buy. It was a frenetic affair - the train would only be stopping for three minutes. Prices must've been great, because customers didn't even hesitate. I've never seen anything like it.

It was an hour to the next town. In the meantime, Alexandr and Eduardo explained the phenomenon further. There are three trains that run the Trans-Mongolian route every week. On the Russian and Chinese trains, a rolling market would never be allowed to happen. But we were on the Mongolian train - the police and provodnitsa were all Mongolian - so for all intents and purposes, it was Mongolian law on board. And train #5 was like this every week.

The stop at Bogotol lasted 20 minutes. Our entrepreneurs hung out the window, dangling mannequins over the sea of shoppers. Several hours later, at Mariinsk (map), Eduardo and I stepped off for a different perspective. Wading through the pushy crowd, we discovered every single carriage was like this. Bemused, we took pictures of it all, until the police told us to cut it out. Maybe as part of the country's transportation network, train stations are strategically sensitive information? But you don't mess with the Russian police. We stopped.

Mariinsk was our last stop in daylight. I've heard shoppin can be a draining activity - hence the phrase 'Shop til you drop' - and today, even though I wasn't buying, those short bouts of commercialism had me exhausted. Sprawled out on my bed, I ignored my cabinmates counting the day's haul, and fell asleep on what I now call the Trans-Mongolian Mall.

Thanks to everyone for their support and comments! Knowing people are reading keeps me motivated to continue the updates!