Never judge a Russian by the way they look

My belly is asking for food. I'm thinking kebab, but Russian pancakes would be just fine. If my Jewish friends back in Brazil abstain from food during Yom Kippur, maybe its my time. But I'm not very religious, so forget it. How stupid, a 24 hours train ride and no food with me. It's not all my fault, how was I supposed to know that Russians don't sell food on their trains? They must have some vodka though, maybe I can get very drunk and sleep for the following hours. Nah, I could probably get raped, like I almost did back in Kyoto.

The responsible for the sleeping cabins, a Russian guy, said "nyet" to me when questioned about food, meaning no in Russian. There were some bananas at his cabin, he would be so kind to donated one of those to a hungry Brazilian guy, like me. But he's not willing to help and apparently is playing the game of love with the Ukranian lady next door. So unfair. She's very attractive: tall, blonde and blue eyes. I wonder if I can get some sexual healing too. Not a good idea, I heard russians can get pretty aggressive.

I'll leave my cabin once again, walk a bit and see if any good idea comes to mind. Let's see the train schedule, but its all in Russian. There will be some stops, maybe I can run out of the train, buy some food and come back. Too risky tought, I could probably end up lost in the middle of Ukraine.

The Russian guy leaves his cabin once again, I massage my belly in a sign of dispair. He looks at me, but ignores my situation. He's exactly the stereotype of the Russian vilan we see in movies: short, fat, bold and, of course, drunk. My ticket was sold by him just before departure time, but god knows if it was the fair price to pay. I was late, so I paid the €60 he wrote in my Ipod, as we couldn't communicate in any language.

Back to my cabin, the door closes, let's think a bit. A solution always comes up, just this time its taking too long. Some Tim Maia is playing in my ipod, bringing back good memories of Brazil. There, I had plenty of food. "Churrascos" were nice, we could eat a whole bunch of different meat and refresh our throat with ice cold beer. But I'm in Ukraine now, snow its all I can see outside.

Someone knocks on my door, what is it this time? Maybe is the border check or a gypsie broke into our train and is now ready to take my stuff.

Unbelievable! It's the Russian guy and the Ukranian lady, they bring me two bananas, two slices of bread, instant noodles, a bag of pretzels and a disgusting, very cold chicken. They saved me! I'll eat one banana and instant noodles for dinner, a slice of bread and a bag of pretzels for lunch and the rest, except the chicken, I'll save for the remaining part of the journey. I'll throw pieces of chicken meat through the window, leaving only bones on the plate, to avoid any kind of confrontation with my beloved friends. I'll be just fine.

The above were my toughts at a critical moment of my 24 hours train trip from Budapest, Hungary to Kiev, Ukraine. The train was operated by Russian Railway and nobody seemed very friendly. I just had the opportunity to really meet them after my stupidity of not bringing any food made me go after food and talk to people.

As I later found out, the Russians were tough just in the way they look, inside they were as friendly as us, Brazilians, but in their own way. They not only gave me some of their food, but later invited me to have some vodka. Altough we couldn't communicate very well, we had a good time and, at the end of the trip, I felt a little bit Russian too.

                            Picture: Goldfinger, the Russian vilan stereotype

                            Picture: My supplies for the 24 hours train ride, thank you Russia!