East Bound - Russia x Germany

The Quiet Evenki Family

I was practically giddy with newfound success. I felt emboldened by it, as if I had scaled a mountain of great height. All doubt I had in myself was erased and replaced with a flourish of pride. It was a relatively small thing, but it made me feel on top of the world. The glimmering of lights gave the tell tale signs of an arctic city. We made it to Hatanga. I heard Germany give an audible cry of relief.

"Finally," the light of the sleepy sun reflected off his glasses. "Hatanga." One we came into the kilometre radius of the city, we got off our reindeer, unfastened the reins and let them go free. Without looking back, they bounded away into the sunset. "You didn't lie." He said so suddenly.

"About what?" I had already forgotten.

"About the arctic. I've never seen a reindeer bounding in the snow. It's not a sunrise, but a sunset is still beautiful."

I said that? It seemed to be so long ago, like in a different life. "Yes, isn't it?"

"Not many appreciate it's beauty," he kept on. "After you get over the shocking cold, of course."

"Hah, some don't ever do," I smiled. We made our way to the doorstep of the city by foot as the last rays of the tired sun crept away. The night began to shimmer with the northern aurora borealis. The green, blue, and purple colours looked like paint on a black canvas. Even though I had an adrenaline rush before, it had all drained during out short walk to the city. I felt the dangerous urge to fall into a snowbank and sleep. Unfortunately, that's the most common form of death in the north. Getting drunk, stumbling around in the snow and falling into the ice to freeze was a one way trip out of life. Unlike Dixon, Hatanga was not a port city, therefore less taken care of. The identical yellow five story flats faced off tiny wooden hovels on dirt packed streets. There was really only one row of the apartment buildings, the rest being sheds for tools that the dwindling population used. There was a tiny airport at the edge of the city, but staying there overnight wasn't an option. Too small, too uncomfortable to even sit. This time we had no choice but to beg to let us in. We tried with the Khrushchevka flats first. I watched the yellow paint chips get torn off in the wind while we waited under the thin tarp roof of the portal. A scruffy young man let us into the musty lobby and he ran up the steps without saying anything to us. As all buildings here, the rows of beaten mailboxes nailed to the wall, the iron doors off the hinges swinging in the drafts, the window near the stairwell, the light greenish blue walls that had so many tiny holes that it looked porous, these peisages dominated.

"Are you sure we'll find some place to stay?" Germany whispered to me so that his voice didn't bounce off the walls.

"Let's see," I said back. "Try our luck." I came up to the first door, orange with a yellow border. Taking a deep breath, I tentatively knocked. From the other side of the thick door, I heard shuffling. Germany store a little back, ready to duck behind my back in case there was trouble.

The door swung open to reveal a lightly dressed man with a piece of cheese in his hand. "Who are you, what do you want?"

I had to speak fast. "We're lost travellers, needing a place to stay." No more information would be needed. He looked over my ushanka down to the relatively new but wet black boots on my feet. Germany, with his measly bag, disheveled look, and snow clumped hood, looked just like a desperate homeless man. No, we definitely didn't look like we were beggars. Without another word, he slammed the door on my face. Well, one down, nineteen to go.

"So...no stay?" Germany have me a crooked smile, like he wanted to cry and laugh at the same time.

"There's nineteen more opportunities for me to smile stupidly into strangers' faces." I shrugged, trying the next door over, where a mousy looking woman timidly told me to go away. Three doors later, a red bearded man tried to fight me, telling me to go somewhere unpleasant.