The JaYmes Escape

“Beeg Ben, Mafia Boss, Larndon Arnderground”, I suggest, emulating the Siberian’s thick accent, and Angarsk roars with laughter. Beeg Ben seems to be one of only? three phrases he knows in English, the others being Beautiful (that’ll be bloody James Blunt again), and Russian Vodka, which he appears to have an unrelenting supply of. It is the way? the charismatic well-proprortioned? Russian says Beeg Ben that? suggests to me? the image of? a large gun-toting gangster rather than the London landmark or the bell inside.

“Cambodia Partisan!”, he declares? approvingly? when I show him my pictures, though I suspect that if he went there he’d be? somewhat disappointed by? the notable absence of genuine communism.? Despite the language barrier,? I learn? that? he works on an oil pipeline that stretches all the way from Novosibirsk to Vladivostok, where the oil is shipped to Japan, and I’m sure if he’d told me any more he’d have had to shoot me.

We’re travelling on train number 77, different parts of which originated in Tynda, in the Russian Far East, and Irkutsk, where I boarded to find an empty Kupe. Most of the train is bound, like me, for the Siberian capital Novosibirsk, 32 hours from Irkutsk,? but? our Vagon (carriage) is travelling onwards to Almaty in southern Kazahkstan. Angarsk appeared at some insignificant little stop west of Irkutsk, and we were later joined by Katia, Andrei and young Diana, a family travelling to to visit relatives in Soche on the shores of the Black Sea.

“Kantrabanda!”, declares Angrask triumphantly. One of the train staff has just appeared at the door with a fresh bottle of vodka wrapped in newspaper, for which? the Siberian? hands over the princely sum of 300 roubles (~£6/US$12) before pouring generously for himself, me and Andrei. As we lift our glasses, another cry of Kantrabanda! reminds me of one of the first Russian phrases I ever learnt.

“Nas Ne Dogonyat!”, I venture,? provoking another roar from Angarsk. The Russian pop song from which I learnt? this later appeared in English as the rather limp Not gonna get us, but a? better translation? might be? We will not be caught!