The Time I Accidently-but-had-to Travel in Russia’s Platzcart Train Class

While traveling in Russia’s third class compartment is not usually recommended to foreigners, it definitely is an experience. Full of locals, extremely inexpensive, and almost never sold out, it can give another option to those that need it. Sometimes, especially if you’re traveling as a solo female, it can even provide a degree of safety, as not many people will attempt to harass you in front of so many witnesses. Also, it’s practically a guarantee that you’ll meet friendly locals who will share the experience with you; and their home cooked food and likely, their vodka as well. (It’s a good idea to bring your own ‘shareable’ items to participate in this and any Russian train experience fully – see my post about what else should be brought with you here.)

However. The beds are very hard and mattresses are not provided (linens are usually covered in the price of the ticket). If you are hampered with mobility issues, this might not be for you, as the beds are narrow and if you happen to be on the top bunk, it’s quite a crawl/haul-yourself-up to get in the bed, with low ceilings and no ladders. Don’t expect any English from any other passengers, or the carriage attendant. Also, don’t expect to get a lot of sleep if you’re on an overnight train, as with more than 50 people in a carriage, you’ll likely be woken up many times by those coming and going, by crying babies/children and those on their cell phones. Largely, fellow passengers are respectful and don’t play music or games without headphones. 

My experience started out well enough. I’d arrived in Ukraine and had about a week before I needed to head to Moscow. This was during the somewhat messy Crimea trouble, and I was unable to buy a ticket between the countries online, or without being in the country. 

At this point, my limited Russian was even more limited. I could ask for a variety of things, but the instant a conversation started, I was lost. (Even something so simple as asking if I wanted a small or large coffee, or black or herbal tea. Don’t ask me things! Just recognize my clueless-ness and try to give me something similar to what I almost ask for! :p). It was clearly a definite undertaking to try and buy train tickets for a future date. 

I managed to navigate out to the station, find the ticket offices, and make it clear that I needed tickets for a specific date and time, for the train from Kiev to Moscow. She then rattled off a dozen questions (window? Aisle? Carriage class? Meal? Ahhh!). She soon realized that I hadn’t had a clue what she said and she ended up writing out enough words that I realized there were no spots in first class available  (which actually meant none on the train), and offered me the next lowest class. I assumed this would be a regular class carriage, with closed off cabins. I could easily deal with a roommate for a night, and maybe even wind up with someone who spoke some English. 

All seemed well, until a week later I was bording the train. It had been a tiring week, mentally draining, navigating through Moldova and Ukraine, and I was looking forward to a comfortable bed and a full 8 hours where I wouldn’t need to be on my traveling frame of mind of pretty well insanely alert. 

I entered the train compartment and was immediately assaulted by a long, narrow, corridor packed with people, luggage, and pets. Some people were sleeping, some were half-dressed in the middle of the aisle. Some were definitely halfway drunk, and others, eating dinners of home-baked foods. 

There didn’t seem to be any numbers on the seats and no one seemed to be able to understand my requests for help finding my seat. The carriage attendant clearly had her hands full getting everyone on/off the train, and had even less English than I had Russian (which, was to say, none at all). As far as she was concerned, I was in the train. I didn’t really need a seat, right? 

Finally I found a free seat and tried to politely claim it as my own, desperately hoping that no one could come along and try and tell me I was in the wrong seat. 

Despite the rough start, the journey began in relative peace. And then an older man came up and started yelling and gesturing to me, of course, all in Russian. Somehow, despite sitting in an ‘open’ seat, I had also managed to sit in his seat. I packed up my bag and awkwardly stood in the aisle while the train swayed back and forth. By this time, it was the middle of the night and gradually, most people were settling in for the night. With no other options, I put my backpack on the floor and sat on it, preparing myself for no sleep and a bumpy ride. 

Several minutes later, the conductor came to collect tickets. Whether the carriage attendant felt sorry for me, or it was a fire hazard for me to sleep in the aisle, or she found a free seat and slotted me in there, she motioned for me to follow her down the car, and she patted a bunk for me to call my own. 

Unfortunately, it was being shared by a rather grumpy-looking local, who seemed unwilling to turn the bunks into beds, and was preparing to sleep sitting up, effectively forcing me to also sleep upright. About an hour after trying to sleep in a hard wooden chair, he nudged me and asks ‘switch to bed?’ In English! 

I happily agreed and within minutes, I was settled in a slightly narrow, but more-or-less lie-flat bed, and actually managed to get several hours of sleep! 

In the morning, things looked much brighter. The people friendlier, as they passed around fruits, nuts and vodka (5 o’clock somewhere, right?), and almost a fully-clothed compartment. 

As I debarked the train, feeling quite confident and happy to have survived the experience, the carriage attendant, so put-out by my presence the night before, waved goodbye with a smile, and a lengthy narrative in Russian. Within an hour, I was asleep in a pillow-y soft bed in my hotel, and the stressed of the night before were all but forgotten, but immortalized in the best way possible: a wonderfully funny travel story that I can tell for years!