Časové pásma

Štvrté ráno bol vlak niekde západne od Novosibirska. Polly sa pozrela na malý hodinový ciferník nad dverami kupé. Ukazoval 06:30. Hodiny neboli zmenené od Moskvy. Všetky cestovné poriadky Transsibírskej železnice fungujú na moskovskom čase, po celej dĺžke trate, sedem dní a sedem časových pásiem. Nemôžete prevádzkovať železnicu cez osem tisíc kilometrov, ak má každá stanica iný čas.

On the fourth morning, the train was somewhere west of Novosibirsk. Polly checked the small clock above the compartment door. It read 06:30. The clock had not been changed since Moscow. All Trans-Siberian timetables run on Moscow time, the whole length of the line, for seven days and seven time zones. You cannot run a railway across eight thousand kilometres if every station has a different watch.

Miestny čas za oknom však bol okolo 10:30. Slnko bolo hore už šesť hodín.

Local time outside the window, however, was about 10:30. The sun had been up for six hours.

Tento nesúlad medzi vlakovým časom a vonkajším časom bol, ako povedal sprievodca, jednou z malých mentálnych výziev cesty. Vo Vladivostoku by vlakové hodiny ukazovali jedno a miestne slnko niečo iné, o sedem hodín rozdielne.

This dislocation between train-time and outside-time was, the conductor had said, one of the small mental challenges of the journey. By Vladivostok the train clock would say one thing and the local sun would say something seven hours different.

Polly zoskočila a išla preskúmať vlak.

Polly hopped down and went exploring.

Jedálenský vozeň bol tri vagóny ďalej. Každý vagón bol dlhý tunel s dreveným obložením. Sprievodcovia v zelených uniformách sedeli s nohami hore a čítali noviny medzi zastávkami. Nevyzerali prekvapene, keď videli papagája. Vlak už videl všeličo.

The dining car was three carriages down. Each carriage was a long wood-panelled tunnel. The conductors in green uniforms sat with their feet up reading newspapers between station stops. They did not look surprised to see a parrot. The train had seen things.

Jedálenský vozeň bol zvonku natretý vyblednutou červenou, zvnútra bledomodrou. Ťažké čipkované závesy. Drevené boxy. Malá kuchyňa na vzdialenom konci. Polly sa usadila v prázdnom boxe pri okne.

The dining car was painted faded red outside, pale blue inside. Heavy lace curtains. Wooden booths. A small kitchen at the far end. Polly perched at the empty booth by the window.

Čašník v mierne príliš veľkom saku sa objavil s menu v ruštine, angličtine a čínštine. Boršč. Pelmene. Lososový kaviár. Čašník vzal menu späť, potom sa vrátil s malým tanierikom vo výške Polly: chlieb, maslo a tmavý sleď.

A waiter in a slightly too-large jacket appeared with a menu in Russian, English, and Chinese. Borscht. Pelmeni. Salmon caviar. The waiter took the menu back, then returned with a small plate at Polly's height: bread, butter, and dark herring.

"Pozdrav z kuchyne," povedal po anglicky.

"Compliments of the kitchen," he said in English.

Sleď bol solený a výrazný. Chlieb mal jemnú kyslosť z trojdňovej fermentácie. Maslo bolo nesolené. Táto kombinácia bola niečo, čo Rusi jedli na diaľkových vlakoch už sto dvadsať rokov.

The herring was salt-cured and pungent. The bread had a faint sourness from three days of fermentation. The butter was unsalted. The combination was a thing Russians had been eating on long-distance trains for a hundred and twenty years.

Za oknom sa tajga zmenšila na vysokú otvorenú lúku. Stádo kráv sa páslo blízko malého dreveného domu. Muž na bicykli čakal na priecestí.

Outside the window, the taiga had thinned into high open grassland. A herd of cows grazed near a small wooden house. A man on a bicycle waited at a level crossing.