Ten Thousands Kilometres To Her Door
After I’d farewell my train friends, Natalia, Evgeny and Vadim in front of the Vladivostok Station, I wandered back down onto the platform to look for the 9288 kilometres from Moscow obelisk. I sat down at its marbled-lined base and pulled the mini guitar out from its tattered plastic bags. I felt the joy of an objective realised and the sadness of a space and time ending, of friends met and farewelled. So I pulled out the guitar and started singing To Her Door.
Maybe it was to soothe myself. I was playing only for me. There was noone else around, expect for some people on the overhead walkways staring strangly in my direction. Maybe, it was a way for me to re-connect with a sense of place and a sense of home. Paul Kelly does that for me.
And so there I was. Alone. Sitting at the base of the Trans-Siberian end-of-the-line monument. And singing my heart out. And feeling good.
As Japanese tourists approached to take their photo of the monument, I concluded my song, stowed the guitar in its plastic bags and quietly slipped away up the platform in search of a Kamachatka airline ticket office and domicile for the night – in that order.