The night train chronicles

"Don't worry, this is not a striptease."

I was struggling to form a reaction when a strange Eastern European man, old enough to be my grandfather, uttered these words to me...as he stripped off several layers of clothing. Granted the car was much like an oven, but still. It shows just how far my life has come that I was more impressed that he started the conversation off in English than I was disturbed by what he said.

In fact, it just went downhill from there...for five hours.

This was my second night train experience. The first had occurred just a few days earlier and was largely uneventful. I'll get back to that in a later post. These next few entries will document some Macedonia time, mostly out of order. But back to the not-striptease...

The night train from Skopje to Belgrade (and vice versa) is a mostly enjoyable experience. You get to ride in a little Harry Potter like compartment and mind your own business, mostly because hardly anyone is in the seating car with you. Most have booked sleeper compartments. This was not the case on New Year's Eve. It started off innocently enough, shedding  a few layers and figuring out common languages. I was feeling confident after hearing and understanding some Macedonian. So when the inevitable "Do you speak Serbian/German/Russian/Italian/practically anything other than English" question came up, I said that I could speak some Serbian. Very little. Weakly. As in pretty badly. He was so excited.

He proceeded to ask me where I lived, where I had come from, what I did in Serbia...typical friendly conversation or the prelude to murder in a secluded train car. This took up most of the first three hours. By the end of it I'm fairly certain he could google my details and find me on any continent, but I was too tired to resist conversationally and I was practicing my language. I thought it would even out somewhere along the way. He then asked me if I was married at which point I began to get a little concerned. Keep in mind that we are all alone in this train car, it has been dark for hours and there are very very few people walking by the door of our car. (He was also feeding me caramels at this time...what is that saying about strangers with candy?) I told him that I was single and planned on being that way for at least the foreseeable future. He was kind enough to tell me, "Your Serbian is not good. It would be better if you had a Serbian boyfriend. Then you would learn Serbian. That is the best way to learn." Yes, my new friend had been saving up his English for just this moment. I thanked him for his advice and told him that I would look into it for the new year. To change the subject I asked him what he did for a living.

You think I would've learned by this point in my life to stop asking stupid questions.

As soon as the question fell out of my mouth I was desperately wishing I had contained the polite curiosity. He starts pulling out papers from several of his bags. He had quite a few taking up floor space and attempts to explain to me just what he does for a living, in Serbian though. The jist (which would disappoint my language teacher, but getting this word for word translated at 2 am was not in the cards) was that he was unemployed because of some injury. The cause of the injury? No idea. The actual injury? Also no idea. So anyway, he basically gets unemployment from the government. Both governments apparently because he is a Serb citizen living in Macedonia. I was also understanding that Serbia was being stingy by withholding his benefits until he was actually living in Serbia again. Silly them. From his laughter I deduced that he had figured a way around this. Then he told me, with lots of awkward hand motions, that he basically free lances for a "girl friend" that is a massage therapist. He showed me the advertisement. It seemed legit. As legit as things seem when I can't read a word on the page.

Then he broke from the conversation to ask me if I knew how Serbs translated "Santa Claus". I was unfamiliar with the term so he taught it to me and began calling me "Little Amy". Luckily for us we were currently stuck in customs at the Macedonian border. For about an hour. This gave him plenty of time to not only read my passport info/look at all the beautiful stamps, but to take some photos of the two of us on my camera. (He also said that my name and I were beautiful...thanks Mom!) When the train started moving again he gifted me with two of his best selling products. A vest/harness with magnets that helps your circulation. This is especially helpful for women because we're all sorts of crazy because our circulation is never the way its supposed to be. Who knew that was the cause? AND some deodorant for your feet. I was feeling pretty blessed at this moment and he told me that I should tell all of my friends where they can buy these products for cheap. I wouldn't want my dear friends to get ripped off. He also made me call him Santa Claus and write on the magnet vest a "To/From" inscription, in English, that he dictated to me.

At this point it had been a five hour journey and I couldn't comprehend his English anymore, much less his Serbian. When he got ready to leave the train he insisted on a hug and kissing my cheek three times. Which is the custom here. Then it was awkward because he spoke some New Year greetings as he held me in a bear hug and I contemplated escape maneuvers. And then it was over. I had rung in the New Year with a Santa Claus that doesn't do stripteases, but does sell magic magnets. How many people can say that?




*I have a few photos to accompany this post, but all of my electronic devices need to charge so they'll be up tomorrow.