The JaYmes Escape

“He must have known how long we were stopping”, I observe casually as we watch the man who’d wandered off twenty minutes ago return with a McDonald’s bag. I’m on Polish train D79112 at Suwalki in northern Poland, heading for Warsaw, accompanied by Tak and a guy from Philedalphia who’s rather conveniently called Phil.

The eleven hour journey started on Lithuanian train 193 from Vilnius which carried us, with the accompaniment of loud Lithuanian pop music, to the small town of Sestokai not far from the Polish border. This is where the Russian-built broad gauge railway that’s brought me all the way from Vladivostok meets the European standard gauge railway which crosses the border from Poland. A single island platform bewteen the two lines acts as a transit point for passengers like us, and acres of freight wagons occupy the surrounding sidings.

On board the Polish train we passed through the razor wire fence complete with watchtowers, clearly dating from the days when it marked the border of the USSR. I felt quite superior as my two intercontiental companions received a polite interrogation from the Polish immigration officer about their plans whilst I was left alone with the now familiar ambivalent passport glance and nod.

Twenty minutes down the line we arrived here at Suwalki, where the train is making a seemingly unending stop, and we’re not quite sure if it’s safe to wander off or not. The man we saw, presumably a regular passenger, had clearly wandered down to the large McDonald’s sign we can see towering in the distance to buy his lunch. Poland’s definitely changed rather dramatically since the days of Lech Walesa and food shortages.

Later, we begin to realise that the man clearly knew what he was doing. Despite the almost continual addition of new carriages to the train and passengers to fill them as we get closer to Warsaw, no amount of traversing the ever-lengthening corridors can find us any kind of refreshment vending facility. My dream of a nice cup of tea has to be tempered by Tak’s bottle of Lithuanian vodka and Phil’s crisps. As the train pulls into Warsaw and yet another set of golden arches punctuates the night sky, I resolve to myself that it’s better to be hungry and well-lubricated than to eat there anyway.