Prechod cez Ural

Na tretie ráno vlak zastal v Jekaterinburgu. Galina už vystúpila. Vystúpila v skorých ranných hodinách na stanici, ktorú Polly prespala, s objatím a malým zamávaním, ktoré Polly len napoly zaregistrovala cez ospalosť. Pavel ešte spal. Dvaja noví cestujúci obsadili prázdne lôžka v noci: vojak asi dvadsaťročný v uniforme, ktorá bola príliš čistá na to, aby bola už nosená, a starší muž so šedivo-žltými vlasmi a rybárskou skrinkou na návnady.

On the third morning, the train stopped at Yekaterinburg. Galina had already left it. She had gotten off in the small hours at a station Polly had slept through, with a hug and a small wave that Polly had only half-registered through the haze. Pavel was still asleep. Two new passengers had taken the empty bunks in the night: a soldier of perhaps twenty in a uniform that was too clean to have been worn yet, and an older man with grey-yellow hair and a fishing tackle box.

Polly sa vrhla k oknu.

Polly hopped to the window.

Jekaterinburg je najväčšie mesto v Uraloch. Uraly delia Európu od Ázie. Nie sú vysoké, skôr sú to dlhé opotrebované hrebene než stena. Ale sú staré. Pred päťsto miliónmi rokov, keď sa formoval superkontinent Pangea, Uraly už boli významným pohorím. Boli opotrebované pol miliardy rokov a stále sú tu. Sú jedny z najstarších hôr na Zemi.

Yekaterinburg is the largest city in the Urals. The Ural Mountains divide Europe from Asia. They are not high, more a long worn ridge than a wall. But they are old. Five hundred million years ago, when the supercontinent of Pangaea was forming, the Urals were already a major mountain range. They have been worn down for half a billion years and are still there. They are some of the oldest mountains on Earth.

Transsibírska železnica prechádza Uralmi cez Jekaterinburg. Na kilometri 1 777 trate je malý znak, ktorý hovorí EURÓPA na jednej strane a ÁZIA na druhej. Každý ruský cestujúci, ktorého Polly toho rána stretla, jej o tomto znaku povedal. Niektorí z nich vystúpili z vlaku v Pervouralsku, stanici najbližšej k znaku, a išli k nemu na fotky. Sprievodca jej s malým úsmevom povedal, že znak je turistický vynález. Skutočná hranica, geograficky, nebola na presnom bode na mape. Delia sa približne pozdĺž rozvodia rieky Ural, ktorá je sama o sebe dlhým oblúkom skôr než čiarou.

The Trans-Siberian crosses the Urals through Yekaterinburg. There is a small marker at kilometre 1,777 of the line that says EUROPE on one side and ASIA on the other. Every Russian passenger Polly had met that morning had told her about this marker. Some of them got off the train at Pervouralsk, the station nearest the marker, and walked to it for photos. The conductor told her, with a small smile, that the marker was a tourist invention. The actual border, geographically, was not at a clean point on a map. The dividing line runs roughly along the watershed of the Ural River, which is itself a long arc rather than a line.

Ale symbolický prechod bol dôležitý.

But the symbolic crossing was the point.

Vlak sa vydal z Jekaterinburgu do nízkych kopcov pokrytých borovicami a smrekmi. Les sa zmenil od predošlého dňa. Biele brezy tam stále boli, ale teraz zmiešané s tmavšími ihličnanmi. Krajina bola viac vrásčitá. Malé rieky tiekli v plytkých údoliach.

The train pulled out of Yekaterinburg into low hills covered in pine and spruce. The forest had changed since the day before. The white birches were still there, but mixed now with darker conifers. The land was more wrinkled. Small rivers ran in shallow valleys.

Nový cestujúci s rybárskou skrinkou ju otvoril a rozložil svoje návnady na malý stolík. Usporiadal ich podľa farby. Nezdalo sa, že by ich momentálne potreboval. Len ich chcel mať vonku.

The new passenger with the tackle box opened it and laid out his lures on the small table. He arranged them by colour. He did not appear to need any of them at the moment. He just wanted them out.

"Kde rybárčite?" opýtala sa Polly opatrne.

"Where do you fish?" Polly asked, carefully.

Pozrel hore. Nezdalo sa, že by ho prekvapilo, že prehovoril papagáj. "Jazero Bajkal," povedal. "O tri dni. Omul. Losos Bajkalu. Nikde inde na svete ho nenájdete." Ukázal na konkrétnu zeleno-striebornú lyžičku. "Toto používam."

He looked up. He did not seem surprised that a parrot had spoken. "Lake Baikal," he said. "In three days. Omul. The salmon of Baikal. You will not find it anywhere else in the world." He pointed at a particular green-and-silver spoon. "This is what I use."

Polly naklonila svoju červenú hlavu. Muž zatvoril rybársku skrinku.

Polly tilted her red head. The man closed the tackle box.

O niekoľko hodín neskôr, blízko Pervouralsku, vlak spomalil okolo malého bieleho obelisku na čistinke. Obelisk mal na jednej strane kovovú tabuľku s nápisom EURÓPA v cyrilike. Tabuľka na druhej strane mala nápis ÁZIA. Malá skupina troch turistov si robila fotku. Zamávali na vlak. Pavel, teraz už hore, zdvihol ruku od svojho laptopu a zamával späť.

A few hours later, near Pervouralsk, the train slowed past a small white obelisk in a clearing. The obelisk had a metal plate on one side reading EUROPE in Cyrillic. The plate on the other side read ASIA. A small group of three tourists were taking a photo. They waved at the train. Pavel, now awake, lifted a hand from his laptop and waved back.

Obelisk sa za nimi stratil. Borovice sa opäť uzavreli. Vlak prešiel kontinentom tak, ako by ste prešli malú ulicu.

The obelisk slid away behind them. The pines closed back in. The train had crossed a continent the way you might cross a small street.