Leaving Mongolia

Barely looking at our tickets, some rail ladies knew instantly which carriage we needed to board. That was because our car was the only international one. In Sükhbaatar near the Mongolian-Russian border, when we returned from the station squat toilet, we found our train had been reduced to simply our single carriage, sitting there with no means to move itself. We had heard that the trains crossing this border could spend many long hours clearing customs and that might be why our tickets were cheap ones. We sat at that station without an engine for over 5 hours. And shortly after that, or the otherside of the border we sat for nearly 4 hours.
A long long day, sitting, abandoned.
Being driven a little mad by the rustling of our cabin-mates.
We were worried who we would have to share our compartment with, we feared it would be 2 drunk, smoking, raw beef shot downing human boars. But instead we were relieved to get 2 Mongolian women who were polite and smelless enough. One of them seemed obsessive compulsive, and annoyed Sophie to no end with her careful placement of various packaged foods and drinks on our table, and repacking of her many bags into the night. The reason she did this is because they are smugglers, the spectacular food packages actually held socks, probably Mongolian cashmere. They even asked Sophie to store some socks in her pack. But they got through fine. I wouldn't have minded so much if it weren't for this salami right near my head as I draft this. Which is getting very stinky in the sun. And I don't believe they plan to eat it. I think it's here to add authenticity, and the smell is mingling with the smell of everyone's sweaty feet. But that's alright with me, we've got Chinggis wheat vodka, and at least the train is moving for once.