East Bound - Russia x Germany

Realisation and Reality

So this was the place, Sakhalin, where I was destined to come by train, but ended up on a journey of a lifetime. The sandy, almost warmish breeze wafted into the car. On the radio of the cab, you could hear the last notes of what sounded like a popular song, based on how the driver was singing with unbridled enthusiasm. Tall trees flashed by at alarming speed, and we ascended hill after hill, deeper and deeper into the island, where tall concrete skyscrapers gave way to flattish suburbs with iron gates, shrubbery, potholed walkways, and tiny muddy puddles came up around us. I leaned on the windowsill and watched the slow transformation, from city to suburb, to village. 

I risked asking a question quietly to Russia, careful to speak in my broken Russian to not rouse the driver's suspicion. "How long?" I whispered, hoping he knew what I was talking about.

"Around an hour or so," he said back. Then, after some time for consideration, he added. "At this rate, probably less than forty minutes." 

The driver smiled and pressed his gas pedal harder. I watched, transfixed, as the steel roofs of the suburb area faded to wild forest and mountain. The road became gravelly and uneven, all asphalt disappearing to dirt and mud. I was aware of the steady darkening of the sky, wondering when we would be swallowed up by the night. But I didn't worry. Sakhalin was much too warm to get stuck in a snowdrift. Poland was fidgeting next to me, interlocking his hands in different ways, always looking out the window. 

"You must be from the North, eh?" the driver asked unexpectedly. 

"We've been travelling there," Russia commented nonchalantly. "but yes."

"Came down South?" he joked. "must be warm here to you."

The thinnest of smiles crossed Russia's lips. "Oh yes. It is quite nice." The car screeched to a halt seemingly in the middle of nowhere.

"Enjoy your stay. We're here," he got out of the car and started to unload the boot. We got out, Poland and I, uneasily looking around. The muddy ground was wet with half-melted slush and huge pines swayed in the wind. Being used to flat expanses and seeing the horizon made this atmosphere feel confining. Surprisingly, Russia handed him something that wasn't money and the driver backed out and drove back from where we came from. The sounds of the forest engulfed us as the roar of the engine faded. In the semi-darkness, I felt unsure of where we were. 

Poland voiced my unease. "Where in the world are we?"

"Uzhno Sakhalinsk Oblast," Russia said, picking up our meagre luggage. "Come."

"If we get eaten by rabid bears, it's your fault."

"Sure."

"I am worried by your apparent calmness." 

Russia smiled the same way as he did to the driver. "Don't be, one of us has to stay on top of things. We're almost there."

"Who even lives there?"

"Chudo-Udo, Baba Yaga, Ivan the Terrible, and many other nasty things," Russia rattled off different characters you wouldn't want to meet. "And my father, who likes the place."

Poland pursed his lips. "I am deducing we are going to your father?" 

"We might. If I don't decide to fall asleep right here, right now."

"Please don't," I piped up. "It's too dark to even see a metre in front of us."

"I'll try." he led the way down a little path I didn't see before. It looked like an old hiking trail no one used in a long time. Although I didn't look at it, I was getting nervous from the long shadows that obscured the forest. In five minutes, it would be dark. We walked and walked more. It was now definitely dark, and our weak night vision set in. Anxiety turned to fear.