VIKTOR

Hurry, hurry, we have to get to the train on time!!  We hurry, although the train has just arrived to the station and we have at least 15 minutes to find our car and board.

On arriving to our carriage, I see a rather round man, well dressed, slightly bold, with the aureole of white hair. He seems to either preventing the train from turning over or helping his own balance by leaning on the side of the train.  His left foot is lifted like a stork, and it is bleeding profusely, but he seems not to have noticed it or at least his face does not denote any pain or special feeling.  I pass by him, thinking that the poor old chap, must be having a rough time, but … so be it. That is not my business and I have to hurry and find my carriage, my berth and that is my primary concern. Besides my lack of knowledge of the language of Pushkin prevents me from even the most basic communication.

I find my carriage, get my stuff on the train and finally sit, in the knowledge that I am safe and will not miss my train. The concern about missing the train is because as in Russia all trains run in Moscow time, regardless of your physical location, and considering that Russia has 10 time zones, you have to know if you add or subtract and how many hours from the printed schedule in order to make it to the train on time.  If you do not have a seat or a berth, you are not allowed on the train, nothing like «well, I will travel on the corridor » or the like.  So, I settle and then there is this man, the one that seemed to be holding the train, that comes in, his foot still bleeding and I ask « are you ok? » of course in English and although the tone might be understood, not so the words, but in audiovisual without audio, he makes sign that all is ok. Pointing to his foot, he signals that already it was taken care of so…. Then the steward comes in, to take away the little rug that is in all 1st class wagons, before the foot dares to stain it and leaves in place a pile of newspapers where the man can rest his foot and bleed till kingdom comes.  They talk, about … maybe his health or his foot or the weather, the conversation is rather short, but the steward is nice, smiles and seems to care about the man, notwithstanding what she leaves promptly and he takes his shoe off, but the sock is soaked in blood, he seems to apologize about the situation, as if he had created the mess on purpose.  I am glad not to be a very peckish person and do not faint at the sight of blood otherwise I would be causing an additional burden for the train steward.

Finally alone!! And the real audiovisual for the deaf starts.  The best system I have devised is the “me Jane, you???” or in this case “me Mercedes you ??”  He is Victor, maybe Viktor.  In a broken English, so broken you could think his English was crashed by a ton of bricks, he explains that the bleeding foot is due to a slip of the foot, if not of the tongue, in one of the stairs of the station, so he scratched the back of his heel, it must have been a serious scratch but… so Viktor continues to explain or so I think, that he is on his way to Moscow, to continue his travel to London, where he will be attending a meeting, I guess it will be a professional meeting, as he says “engineer”, so I assume he is one.  I indicate I will be going only to Moscow, end of my trip.

We cannot really go into extreme details about our lives, lack of the audio elements preventing any further communication, but fortunately some signs are like the modern globalisation system, they are used and understood all over the world or almost, so pointing out to my annular finger, where there is no ring, he gets the gist of my question and says, “yes, wife and two children”.  Waiting for more info, I learn his wife is also engineer, but living in a different city, he says he is engineer in a city A, she is in a city B.  I wonder then if that could be the secret of a long and lasting relationship??  Children – girl in finances and boy is in IT and also speaks a little English.

That is where we stop, no further information can be exchanged, age is out of the question as I believe he understands that me being slightly older would not be nice-polite to ask for my age so…. What does Viktor do?  Well, he pulls out his cell phone and dials and after talking a bit, and mentioning me – my name I can understand of course, even in Russian, gives me his phone.  Dear Viktor had called his son, who speaks some English, so I can communicate with him and “talk” in real English.  The son and I exchange some phrases, saying how nice it was to know each other and then I give Viktor his phone, he closes the conversation and puts away his phone.  I believed that his calling his son so we could communicate was so sweet and strange. As if Viktor really wanted to get to know me, likewise my dear man although this will have to be a silent getting acquainted.

It is getting late, night is falling and it is time to go to sleep, and so he goes and gets his pyjamas on and goes to sleep. Me too and the following morning we arrive to Moscow, each to his and her life, I hope he enjoyed London and I certainly enjoyed meeting Viktor. I also had a great time in Moscow.