Elbows. they're good. after living in Kowloon in Hong Kong for a few months and then in India for 2 years i knew the use of them well. Old Granny had reminded me on the way into China and now stuck in a small supermarket on the Chinese-Mongolian border with 100 other travellers all desperate for food i knew it was time to act. Elbows out, chin tucked in, march towards the exit and take no prisoners. it worked and i burst through the tightly-packed throng paying for their goods and onto the platform one more. phew. what a relief. everyone was milling around, eating, drinking and generally just waiting for the train to come back. one hour went by and i decided to brave the supermarket again. most of the shelves had been stripped of everything except some lovely dried cuttlefish, some artificial 'cake' and a few noodles but there was one thing i desperately needed - a mug. being stuck on a long train journey without the ability to have a cuppa was a serious issue but of course the mugs they had in the supermarket offended my gay sensibility. a Snoppy mug? i just couldn't. 2 cups in a joint set covered in love hearts? i couldn't see me and Mr Plutonium drinking out of those somehow. i then stumbled across some 'fruit' in syrup that was contained within what looked a like a lovely green mug! ideal. i could eat the fruit, keep the mug and all would be happy with the world. the strange thing about the mug was that the fruit just stayed suspened within it like a lava lamp: the body of the mug was transparent plastic, the top and handle bright green and when i turned the mug over the fruit stayed in the same position, moving just a fraction. it was a bit weird. anyway, i got outside and went to open it but couldn't do it after 10 minutes of wrestling around and so went back to the shop. the people in there couldn't do it either so i decided to wait for the train - if anyone could do it Mr Plutonium could. by this time nearly 2 hours had passed and no train. it was 12.50am and we were all getting testy. 1am no train. 1.15 no train. 1.20 - the train!!! Nash was standing on the side of my carriage as it puffed back in and i looked at him quite affectionately, pleased to see him after all this time. he blinked, pushed his glasses up and spat on the platform. what a sweetheart. so, all back on and off we went. i got my bed ready (top bunk), put my earplugs in and settled down to sleep. 5 minutes later i was woken up by Nash - we were at the Mongolian border and had to get all our documents out again. jezus christ!
next morning i work up early to the sound of the train rumbling along trying to compete with Mr Plutonium's snoring. i'm not sure who was winning but it was a tight competititon. the landscape had changed dramatically during the night and now we were passing through dry, dusty desert with low-lying hills, covered in redded-copper sand with the occasional fence standing in the middle of nowhere. there were hardly any features at all and great clouds of sand blowing against the windows - stark, barren and distinctly alien. it was time for brekkie but to my astonishment when i went to enter the restaurant carriage it'd gone, replaced by a sci-fi version of the one that'd been there before: shiny blue-white plastic with bright clean surfaces. it was like stumbling across the cafeteria of the spaceship in 2001. of course i'd woken up at 6 and the place wasn't open until 8 so i just had to sit there for 2 hrs reading 'War & Peace' and looking out at the dusty sand dunes rumbling by. a few other people started to drift in nearer 8 and then the serving lady came out with a face like thunder. one look at her and the hairs rose up on the back of my neck. 'War & Peace' was about right. i sat politely and waited ... and waited ... and waited. 'could i have a menu please?' i eventually got up the courage to ask as she passed by for the 5th time. 'WAIT!" shot the reply with a narrowing of the eyes. she obviously thought i was trouble and i knew she was. what did the Russians do when attacked by Napoleon? Retreat. Damn. by this time the carriage was half full and the menus appeared. another 2. that was it but i managed to get hold of one. as opposed to the menu on the Chinese side it was packed full of options: 2/3rds of which they didn't have according to Mrs Khan's very curt introduction to the delicacies on offer: the cabbage was looking good again. Mrs Khan went off to serve someone else, taking the menu with her but not my order so i gave up the ghost and went back to my compartment to eat some nuts. great breakfast. Mr Plutonium was up and about by the time i got back so i decided to enlist his help in getting my new mug unscrewed so i could at least have a cuppa. after 5 minutes and seeing his face go bright red and his breathing becoming rather laboured i decided i didn't want a repeat of my plane experience and took it back off him. we looked at each other and then at the mug. what a bugger. just at that moment Nash went by with a giggling colleague - ideal. if the Chinese couldn't do it then no-one could so i went off to follow them. arriving at their little carriage i managed to indicate that i needed their help getting the lid off the mug and they both gave me a look like Mrs Khan in the breakfast carriage i.e. 'bloody stupid tourist. can't you do anything for yourself?' Nash's giggling mate got hold of it, wrestled around a bit and had no luck. Nash raised an eyebrow, as did i. bloody stupid tourist eh? Nash then took up the challenge with even greater gusto than his mate. he slapped the top, he slapped the bottom. he slapped the sides, he slapped the middle and then went back to slapping the top. he then got hold of it with both hands and gripped as hard as he could, his face going orange. then he got down on the floor, got it between his feet and turned the lid as hard as he could. no luck but his mate was giggling like nobodies business. most miraculously of all the fruit still hadn't moved. i felt like plugging it in and seeing if a light came on. Nash and his mate both looked at me and shook their heads defeated. damn, damn and damn! giggler was still giggling so i gave up and went back to the carriage & got out my penknife. Mr Plutonium was nowhere to be seen but turned up 30 minutes later saying what a lovely breakfast he'd had. bastard. i ate a nut. 'no luck with the mug then?' he enquired. the mug was sitting on the table with a chunk missing from the lid and the carriage filled with green plastic confetti where i'd been sawing away with my penknife. the bloody thing still wouldn't open and i'd managed to get shards of plastic in my eyes so it looked as i was crying. which i was. nearly. the mug ended up in the bin: i just couldn't take anymore but luckily Mongolia was only 2 hrs away.
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