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http://cn.nytimes.com/travel/20121017/c17Siberian/dual/ (클릭요망)
다음은 미국의 뉴욕타임즈에나오는 시베리아여행기입니다.영어와 중국어로 되어있으니 여러번읽으시면 많이 재미있을겁니다.
“FOR me, a young girl in Belarus, listening to the late-night radio broadcasts of them building this rail line in the Siberian frontier had a romance that made me want to be part of it,” said my newest train friend, Mila Kozlova, 57, as we rocked back and forth in our coupe across the Siberian wilderness. She gazed contentedly at the ocean of birch trees rolling by our window, and pulled out two jars of home-pickled vegetables from her canvas bag, adding them to the smorgasbord crowding the windowsill table. A day into our trip on the Baikal-Amur Mainline railroad — Russians call it BAM — had become a 2,500-mile all-you-can-eat buffet.
“那时候,我还是个年轻的白俄罗斯姑娘,在深夜的收音机里听说他们在西伯利亚边境修建这条铁路时,产生了一种浪漫的感觉,让我很想搭乘这条铁路线,”我在火车遇到的新朋友,57岁的米拉·高斯拉娃(Mila Kozlova)这样说。我们在包厢里前后摇晃,穿越西伯利亚荒野。她怡然自得地注视着划过车窗的桦树林海,从帆布包里掏出两罐自制的泡菜,加入窗边的桌子上挤得满满的瑞典式自助餐(冷菜杂烩——译注)里。在“贝加尔湖至黑龙江主干线”(Baikal-Amur Mainline railroad,俄罗斯人称之为BAM)上飞驰了一天之后,我们知道这2500英里的路程,将是一道无限量供应的自助餐。
For the last three hours, we hadn’t seen a single road, village or human in this forest wilderness. Looking out, I couldn’t imagine another place in the world that could be more pristine, and devoid of human habitation, all within sight of a transcontinental rail line. Occasionally the rail bed lifted us above the trees where we could see snow-topped mountains gleaming above the green horizon. Mila was right; there was an undeniable romance riding through Siberia’s vast wilds on this implausible, impractical, yet epically scenic railroad.
在过去的三个小时里,在这片森林里我们没有看到一条路、一个村庄或者一个人。望着窗外,我不能想象世界上还有哪个地方能如此原始,没有人烟,唯一能看到的就是横贯大陆的铁路线。有几处,火车线的地势高于森林,我们就能看到白雪覆顶的大山,在绿色的地平线上方闪耀。米拉说的对;在这条不可思议、不切实际却宏伟而美丽的铁路线上穿越西伯利亚广袤的荒野,有一种不可否认的浪漫
。
When most people consider crossing Siberia by rail, they think of the Trans-Siberian Railway, the 5,000-mile-long rail line stretching from Moscow to the Pacific, which was finished in 1916. But two-thirds of the way through the continent from Moscow, the Trans-Siberian sprouts an artery — the BAM — that inexplicably darts north through a blank spot on the map with few towns or even paved roads, a mysterious and enormous railroad loop through nowhere.
大多数人考虑乘铁路穿越西伯利亚时,会想到西伯利亚大铁路 (Trans-Siberian Railway)。这条铁路长达5000英里,从莫斯科直达太平洋,于1916年建成。但是从莫斯科深入大陆的三分之二处,西伯利亚大铁路又产生了一个分支——BAM——它不可思议地向北穿过地图上一个空白的区域,这里几乎没有城镇,甚至没有铺过的路。这个神秘而漫长的铁路所过之处,一片荒凉。
(James Hill for The New York Times)
从左上方顺时针依次是:哈巴罗夫斯克的车站,在奥莱克马(Olekma)车站,驶过科达山脉,尤克塔里(Yuktali)的一位乘务员,火车停在卡哈尼(Khani)休息,张望飞逝的风景。
Begun under Joseph Stalin as a northern alternative to the Trans-Siberian, the BAM was finished only in 1991 though it’s still being tinkered with to meet growing Asian demand for Siberian lumber, gas and oil. “Stalin built BAM because he thought the Chinese might zip across their border and seize the Trans-Siberian, and that didn’t happen,” Mila said. “Brezhnev built more of BAM to make a pioneer utopia, and that never happened. Now,” she said, shrugging in her bulky homemade sweater, “who knows what will happen other than a beautiful trip?”
BAM始建于约瑟夫·斯大林时代,是作为西伯利亚大铁路的北方替代线路修建的,但直到1991年才完成,不过它还在不断修补,以满足亚洲对西伯利亚的木材、天然气和石油越来越大的需求。“斯大林修建BAM,是因为他以为中国可能冲过边境线,夺取西伯利亚大铁路,但是实际上并没有发生这样的事,”米拉说。“勃列日涅夫继续修建BAM是想建一个拓荒的乌托邦,那也从来没有实现过。现在,”她穿着自己织的厚毛衣,耸了耸肩,说道:“它除了是一段美丽的旅程,谁知道还会发生什么。”
For years I had been planning to cross Russia on the Trans-Siberian with my travel mate, Yulia Dultsina, a Russian now living in New York. But then we stumbled upon florid descriptions of the BAM in old Soviet Life propaganda magazines and were intrigued. Tracing the rail line though these enormous blank spots grabbed us — here was an alternative to the tired old itineraries on the tourist-clogged Trans-Siberian.
多年来,我一直计划和我的旅伴,现居纽约的俄罗斯人尤利娅·达尔茨纳(Yulia Dultsina),一起沿着西伯利亚大铁路横穿俄罗斯。但是我们偶尔在一本很多年前的《苏联生活》(Soviet Life)宣传杂志上看到了对BAM的精彩描述,就被深深吸引了。沿着铁路线穿过这片广袤的无人区,深深地抓住了我们的心——西伯利亚大铁路挤不说,坐过的人太多了,BAM倒是一个绝佳的替代路线。
Last spring we took a flight from Seoul, South Korea, to one of the BAM’s spur lines in Khabarovsk, a charming old trading town on Russia’s eastern reaches across the Amur River from China. Khabarovsk is also a major station along the Trans-Siberian railroad, a point of intersection where passengers can change from one train system to the other.
去年春天,我们从韩国首尔飞到BAM在哈巴罗夫斯克的一条支线。哈巴罗夫斯克是个迷人的贸易古镇,在俄罗斯的东部边陲,隔着黑龙江与中国相望。它也是西伯利亚大铁路上的重要一站,两条铁路线在这里交汇,乘客可以在这里换乘。
“This feels so European,” Yulia noted as we wandered jet-lagged around Khabarovsk’s monumental czarist-era boulevards with their candy-colored neo-Classical buildings facing the river. But the pink sky at sunset and the eyes that often appeared above the pervasive mink coats hinted that we were deep in Asia.
“这里感觉特别像欧洲,”尤利娅说,当时我们时差还没倒过来,在哈巴罗夫斯克具有纪念意义的沙皇时代的河滨大道上闲逛,临河糖果色的建筑具有新古典主义风格。但是黄昏时粉红色的天空,以及随处可见的貂皮大衣上露出的黑色眼睛,在提醒我们:这里是遥远的亚洲。
Catching our train out of Khabarovsk’s copper-roofed station, we said goodbye to the Trans-Siberian’s Old World architecture, which we would be trading for a world of Soviet-era concrete follies for the next week until the railroad curved south to rejoin the Trans-Siberian at Tayshet some 2,000 miles west.
在哈巴罗夫斯克铜顶的车站坐上火车,我们就此跟西伯利亚大铁路沿线的旧世界建筑告别。接下来的一周,我们要去看苏联时代大而无当的混凝土建筑了。直到西行2000英里后,铁路线向南拐,与西伯利亚大铁路再次交汇。
Our first conductor was a bottle blond woman in a blue uniform who scowled as we hoisted our bags up the steep steps into the train. “Pack lighter next time,” she scolded us as we wrestled our rolling suitcases over the loose carpets that seemed to cover every square inch of the train.
我们遇到的第一位乘务员是个身穿蓝色制服、头发染成金发的女人。我们踩着陡峭的台阶把行李拖上火车时,她皱起了眉头。“下次别带这么多东西,”我们费力把带轮子的箱子拖过松垮垮的地毯时,她批评我们说。火车上的每一寸地面似乎铺上了这种地毯。
But once she realized that I was her only foreign passenger she became almost maternal, doling out tea bags, mineral water and candy from her closet-size kiosk next to the bathroom. At sunset, to add to the train’s living room ambience, she hauled out curtains on long rods that she fitted over the corridor windows.
但是当她意识到我是这里唯一的外国乘客时,态度马上变得几乎带点母爱了,从她位于洗手间旁边的小隔间里,拿出了一点儿茶包、矿泉水和糖果,分给我们。太阳落山的时候,为了增加火车里的起居室氛围,她用长长的竿子拉上窗帘,竿子的长度正好够着走廊窗户的顶部。
THE BAM doesn’t offer all the plush comforts of the Trans-Siberian. After all, there’s hardly any tourism in the BAM region. This line was built for freight and people who have business in the wilderness. The dozen cars on the first leg of our trip were half-filled with workers and managers destined for Siberia’s lumber camps and oil and gas fields, as well as people working on the train line itself. As such, it is more of a utilitarian train, with a nothing-fancy dining car that served essentially as a round-the-clock bar, a couple of packed third-class wagons with clothes draped across bunk beds crowding dormitory-like spaces, and a few second-class cars with four comfortable berths in separate minivan-size cabins.
西伯利亚大铁路的所有舒适享受,BAM都不提供。毕竟,BAM途经的地区几乎没有旅游地。这条线路就是为运送货物和在荒野中工作的人修建的。我们旅行第一段的十来节车厢只坐了一半的人,他们都是要去西伯利亚伐木场和油气田工作的工人和经理,以及这条铁路线的工作人员。因此,火车也是实用性的:餐车一点都不华丽,主要就是用做全天候的酒吧;两节三等车厢拥挤得像宿舍,高低床之间挂着衣服;几节二等车厢里是独立的面包车大小的包间,里面有四个舒服的铺位。
Once I’d unrolled my mattress on my second-class bunk and unfolded the crisp linens, I felt well taken care of as the train gently rocked me to sleep beneath the moonlit forest that cast dramatic shadows across the walls.
我铺开我在二等铺位上的褥子,打开挺括的被子,在火车温柔的摇晃下,很快安然入睡;月光照耀下的森林,在墙壁上撒下斑驳的树影。
Even though the BAM is a populist ride, it was as punctual and rode as gently as any train I’d been on in the United States. Czarist and Soviet Russia had always been proud of its impressively sprawling yet well-managed railroad system, and the tradition survives in the immaculate uniforms of the attendants who seemed to be constantly cleaning and polishing this big wilderness machine. Despite constant stream, hill and mountain crossings we never spilled a drop from our Russian tea glasses with metal handles balanced on the table. “Amtrak should only be this smooth,” Yulia said. And yet we would be riding over 2,000 bridges and some two dozen tunnels in areas so rugged that construction material often had to be floated inland on barges. The remoteness of this country, and the limited train traffic coming through here, means that trains often run along only a single track, which, at steep curves we could see trailing behind us into the unkempt tundra like a ball of yarn.
尽管BAM是个平民铁路,但是它很准时,和我在美国搭乘的所有火车一样行驶平稳。沙皇时代和苏联时代的俄国人都以其四通八达却管理良好的铁路系统而自豪,这种传统在乘务员身上得到了传承,她们似乎在不停地擦洗这个荒野中的庞然大物,她们的制服也整洁无暇。尽管我们不断穿过河流、小山和山脉,得益于固定桌子的金属柄,没有一滴水从我们的俄罗斯茶杯中溅出来。“美国铁路客运公司(Amtrack)的火车应该也不过如此平稳吧,”尤利娅说。但是我们将跨过2000多座桥,穿过二十几个隧道,而这个地区的地势起伏不平,建铁路的材料经常都是用驳船运往内陆的。这个国家如此广袤,而通过此地的火车又很少,所以火车通常都是在单轨上跑;在转大弯的地方,我们能看到身后的车厢,像一团纱线散落在粗糙的苔原上。
After our second night, our train stopped at the hamlet of Novy Uoyan, where for 15 minutes, we stepped out into the brisk Siberian air and bought a bag of dried omul — local troutlike fish — and a jar of garden-grown raspberry jam from a scrum of kerchiefed women huddled around the station gate. The building was a block-size behemoth with a sculptural roof that dwarfed the half-dozen concrete buildings that made up the rest of Novy Uoyan.
过了第二个夜晚,我们的火车到了一个名叫诺维·尤燕(Novy Uoyan)的小村庄,在那里停留15分钟。我们走出车厢,呼吸西伯利亚清新的空气,从车站门口挤成一团的围着头巾的妇女那里买了一包当地产的类似鲑鱼的干鱼和一罐自制的树莓酱。火车站是个四四方方的庞然大物,有着一个雕塑屋顶,在它的衬托下,小村庄其他六个混凝土建筑显得很矮小。
I asked a station attendant if there were many bears here.
我向车站的一位工作人员询问附近有没有很多熊。
“All over,” he said. “During the spring you can see them from the track all the time. Sometimes we get calls from railroad workers along the tracks to help rescue them when they get cornered.” He smiled tightly. “Occasionally we get there and find nothing but blood.”
“到处都是,”他说:“春天的时候,你随时都能在铁轨上看到它们。有时我们接到铁路沿线的工人打来的电话,让我们去救救那些陷入困境的熊。”他不自然地笑了一下。“偶尔,我们到了那里,发现什么也没有,地上只有一滩血”。
THERE’S a certain smug joy to looking at the perils of a rugged, lonely wild country from the comfort of a train; here we are, linked directly to Moscow on a double stream of metal, a windowpane away from the Heart of Darkness. Our days became a pleasant routine of wildness streaming by outside and an intimate, ever-shifting community of travelers in comfortable, tight, yet strollable conditions inside.
从舒适的车厢内望着窗外崎岖不平、孤独荒凉的乡村可能蕴藏的危险,会有一种暗自庆幸的感觉:两根延绵的铁轨将我们与莫斯科直接相连,窗玻璃又把我们与“黑暗之心”隔开。我们在火车上的日子形成了一种愉快的韵律:窗外的荒野不断向后流淌,在舒适、密封但可以走动的车厢内,来来往往的旅客们不断形成暂时的亲密的小团体。
We rolled along, we chatted long into the night with fellow passengers, we watched the pale sun rise and fall through the trees and the distant mountains, we darted back and forth for boiling water to the omnipresent samovar installed at the end of the car, we toasted each other with endless cups of tea and hourly glasses of vodka (out here the stuff seemed to be drunk at a pace more medicinal than inebriating), and we dozed off, rocked gently to sleep.
车轮滚滚,我们跟其他乘客聊天到深夜,看着苍白的太阳升起,又看着它落入树林和远山,我们来回到车厢尾部的俄式茶壶里接开水,没完没了地举起茶杯或者伏特加相互祝酒(乘务员们似乎也都醉了,不过那感觉很慰藉,而不是像醉汉似的),我们打瞌睡,在火车的摇晃中温柔入眠。
Thanks to the dozen passengers who rotated into our coupe during the weeklong journey — among them an engineer heading to the oil fields north of Lake Baikal, a navy officer on leave, a college student who didn’t say a word — our table was a perpetual buffet of pirogi, boiled chicken, pickles, hams and lots of tasty things I couldn’t pronounce. Our contribution was whatever local snack we could buy from the babushkas during the 10- to 15-minute stops the train made at various stations, and the omnipresent, daily replaced bottle of vodka. We bothered going into the restaurant car only once for a well-fried breakfast served by a woman sporting goth makeup and elaborate shawls who was also busy pouring morning beer and vodka to an increasingly festive group of young guys in track suits. “Gopniks,” Yulia whispered: the Russian term for the uniformly clad groups of youths one finds partying at all times of day seemingly in every public space in the country.
非常感谢在一星期长的旅程中,那些轮流闯入我们包厢的十来个人——其中包括前往贝加尔湖以北的油田的工程师,休假中的海军军官,一言不发的大学生——我们的桌子变成了永不停息的自助餐台,上面有俄式小酥饼、煮鸡、泡菜、火腿和很多我叫不上名的美味。我们的贡献是在每个停留10到15分钟的站台上从围头巾的妇女那里买来的地方小吃,还有每天一瓶、无所不在的伏特加。我们只去过餐车一次,吃了一顿煎拙很好的早餐;上菜的妇女炫耀着她粗陋的妆容和精致的披肩,她同时还忙着给一群越来越欢乐、穿着运动服的年轻男子倒早晨的啤酒和伏特加。“Gopniks,”尤利娅小声跟我说。Gopniks是一个俄语单词,指的是在这个国家的每个公共场所都能看到的整天都在狂欢的一群统一着装的年轻人。
But most of the surreal sights were outside; on the second night we stopped at 2 a.m. in a clearing at the incongruously elegant, Soviet-Deco station of Chilchi, where two stunning women in long sable coats tottered on board in high heels. A moment later, we were back in the woods wondering if Chilchi had been some sort of glamorous vision conjured up by the Siberian taiga.
但是大多数离奇的情景都发生在车外。第二天凌晨2点钟,我们在奇尔其(Chilchi)车站停下,车站位于森林中的空旷地,优雅又带着苏联装饰风格,很不协调。有两个非常美丽的女人穿着长貂皮外套和高跟鞋颤悠悠地上了车。一会儿我们就又行驶在森林中了,心里在想,奇尔其会不会是西伯利亚针叶林地召唤出来的幻影。
More strange visions flashed by our window; a stainless steel bust in the forest; curving concrete abstract sculptures; a giant red star affixed to a hilltop; other apparitions of a utopian Soviet future. In the ’60s and ’70s under Leonid Brezhnev, the BAM inspired a nationwide movement of students, engineers, workers and artists to lend a hand in opening the wilderness — a sort of Russian Works Progress Administration. “I was up there for a summer with my art school and a million mosquitoes building a monument,” said Julia Guelman, a Moscow art gallery owner. “I never met anyone who saw it; it’s in the middle of nowhere.”
更加奇怪的情景在我们的窗外闪现:森林中的不锈钢半身塑像;弯曲的混凝土抽象雕塑;安在山顶的巨大的红星;以及其他表现苏联乌托邦未来的离奇古怪的东西。在上世纪六七十年代勃列日涅夫当政期间,BAM掀起了一场全国性的运动,学生、工程师、工人和艺术家纷纷要为开发这片荒地出一把力——这类似美国的公共事业振兴署(大萧条年代的临时性政府机构——译注)。“我在那儿呆了一个夏天,建了一座纪念碑,一起的还有我的艺校同学和上百万只蚊子,”朱丽叶·戈尔曼(Julia Guelman)说,她现在是莫斯科一家艺术馆的主人:“我从没碰见一个见过那个纪念碑的人,它建在一个没人知道的地方。”
I used to dismiss Soviet futuristic design as totalitarian kitsch. But experiencing the utopian vision expressed in these fantastical structures, I was struck by how Soviet design, now stripped of its sinister political context, is often individualistic, imaginative and even admirably exuberant. The city of Tynda, where BAM’s headquarters are located, features a train station with a control tower jutting out of its double-columned neck that could have come from a George Jetson cartoon but in fact came from the imagination of a team of builders from Moscow. The train line was built by sponsoring cities throughout the Soviet Union that sent dedicated work crews, designers and architects to set their imprint in the opening wilderness. Hence the stations are a parade of Constructionist abstractions, stylized log cabins, sleek neo-Classical monoliths and other architectural surprises staring out at diminutive concrete villages — monumental anchors to unbuilt cities.
我过去总把苏联的未来主义设计看作是极权主义的拙劣作品。但是,在体验了这些空想的作品所表达的乌托邦理想之后,我猛然意识到,在褪去了其邪恶的政治外衣之后,苏联的设计常常是个人主义的、富有想象力的,甚至是令人羡慕地生机勃勃的。提恩塔市(Tynda)是BAM的总部所在地,那里的火车站很有特色,其控制塔从两根柱子构成的脖子上伸出来;看起来像出自乔治·杰特森(George Jetson)的卡通漫画,而实际上却出自莫斯科的一队建筑师的想象力。这条铁路线是在苏联各地城市的资助下建起来的,他们派出了具有奉献精神的工人、设计师和建筑师,在这片广袤的荒野上留下了他们的印记。所以,这些火车站像是一个艺术大游行,包括建构主义抽象派的、程式化的小木屋型的、用光滑的石料做成的新古典主义式的,还有其他各种让人意外的建筑,在这些迷你的混凝土村庄(算是对未能建成的城市的一种安慰吧)里向外张望。
Other buildings told darker tales. “These are where the political prisoners lived when Stalin was building BAM,” Anatoly Stepanovich, 69, told us, nodding toward a block of long log barracks lining the road above the station. He had come to pick up one of our cabin mates at Tynda’s station, and when he heard she was with an American traveler who was interested in the BAM, he offered to take us on a tour of the city, built as BAM’s administrative headquarters.
其他一些建筑背后的故事更加黑暗。“这些是斯大林修建BAM时给政治犯住的地方,”69岁的安纳托利·斯特帕诺维奇(Anatoly Stepanovich)对着火车站另一侧路旁的一长排木头营房说。他是来提纳达站接我们包厢里的一个人的,听说她跟一个对BAM感兴趣的美国游客在一个包厢,他主动提出带我们在这座作为BAM行政总部建立起来的城市里转一圈。
Though time had left deep creases on Anatoly’s round face, his obvious pride in the railroad seemed to melt a few decades away as he drove us around the town he had come to 40 years ago when it was still a group of wooden buildings and tents inhabited by BAM’s first builders.
虽然时间在安纳托利的圆脸上留下了深深的皱纹,但是在他开车带我们在市里转的时候,他明显流露出对为这条铁路感到骄傲的表情,似乎把过去的几十年都融化了。他40年前来到这里的时候,这里只有几个供BAM的第一批建设者居住的木头房和帐篷。
The ghosts of former Soviet gulags pepper Siberia, and Stalin’s plan for the construction of the BAM had initially relied on the toil of prisoners exiled to barracks like this. Once Brezhnev came to power in 1964, he announced that henceforth the line was to be constructed “with clean hands” — untainted by slave labor — and a call was sent out across the Soviet Union for citizens to come develop the wilderness.
苏联古拉格集中营的鬼魂散落在西伯利亚。斯大林建设BAM的计划最初依赖于被流放到像这样的劳改营里的犯人的辛苦劳动。1964年勃列日涅夫上台后,马上宣布,从此以后这条铁路线将由“干净的手”来修建——不再用苦役——号召全体苏联人民来开发这片荒野。
When Anatoly and his comrades heeded that call, they built Tynda into a Soviet showpiece that in the 1970s boasted rows of 16-story reinforced concrete apartment blocks, a community center and a population of 74,000. But with the lack of jobs, Tynda is now down to 35,000. “BAM might have been a disappointment, but life is still good here,” Anatoly told us. “We even have our first church.” He brought us to an enormous onion-domed church right on Tynda’s main drag. Inside, gold-painted icons glimmered in the light of hundreds of candles. A crowded, multigeneration congregation sang in voices deep enough to make one believe that the wilderness soul of Siberia had arisen to consecrate this new addition to town. And yes, it was hard not to like Tynda just then.
安纳托利和他的同志们响应了这个号召,把提纳达建设成了苏联的一个展示品:在上世纪70年代,这里有成排的16层高的加固混凝土住宅区和一个社区中心,人口达7.4万人。但是由于没有工作机会,现在人口降到了3.5万人。“BAM可能让人失望,但是这里的生活仍然很好,”安纳托利告诉我们:“我们甚至有了第一座教堂。”他把我们带到了位于提纳达主要街道上的一个有着巨大洋葱形圆拱顶的教堂。镀金的圣像在上百支蜡烛的照耀下闪烁着微光。拥挤的、几代同堂的会众在吟唱,声音低沉地让人以为西伯利亚狂野的灵魂已经现身,令镇上这座新教堂变得神圣。是的,这一刻,你不可能不喜欢提纳达。
But the best was yet to come. Two days later, on the overnight train from Tynda to Lake Baikal, we ascended via switchbacks into the Kodar Mountains, “the Siberian Alps,” which peaked above the dense forests with a lonely quality that made them seem much taller than their 9,000 feet.
但是最好的还在后面。两天后,在从提纳达到贝加尔湖的夜车上,我们沿着蜿蜒的铁路进入科达山脉(Kodar Mountains)。它被称为“西伯利亚的阿尔卑斯山”,是这片广袤的森林上最高的山脉,海拔9000英尺;由于别无其他山脉,所以显得更高。
As the landscape got increasingly dramatic, books and computers throughout our train car were put aside, conversations hushed, and the narrow hallway filled with people leaning against the windows to absorb the scenery until we were engulfed in the darkness of the 10-mile-long Severomuyskiy Tunnel. We emerged into the blinding brightness of a vast mountain valley desolate save for our train’s lonely track as it descended onto Lake Baikal’s northern shore.
随着窗外的景色越来越激动人心,车厢里的书和电脑被丢到了一边,谈话也中止了,窄窄的过道上挤满了人,大家都倚着窗户欣赏美景,直到我们淹没在10英里长的索维诺姆斯基隧道(Severomuyskiy Tunnel)深深的黑暗里。让人炫目的光亮再次出现时,我们到了一个巨大的荒无人烟的山谷里,只有我们的火车孤独的铁轨慢慢下降到贝加尔湖的北岸。
MOST visitors see Lake Baikal only from its populated and developed southern shore, where the Trans-Siberian runs. But from our side of the lake, 400 miles north of there, Baikal emerged as something primordial — an inland sea of cobalt waters the size of Maryland ringed by mountains without a road or house in sight along the shores that disappeared into the horizon.
大多数游客看到过贝加尔湖人口稠密、经济发达的南岸,西伯利亚大铁路就是从那里经过。但是从400英里以外的北岸看过去,贝加尔湖呈现出其原始的一面——深蓝色的内陆海有马里兰州那么大,周围全是山脉,岸边没有一条路或者一栋房屋,漫长的湖岸线消失在远方的地平线上。
We rolled into the BAM-spawned city of Severobaikalsk, nestled between the bare rolling hills overlooking Baikal. We thought that we had become inured to architectural eccentricities but Severobaikalsk’s station, which appeared to have a giant concrete ski-jump on its roof, surprised us. It turns out that the roof is meant to represent sails, symbolizing the station’s sponsoring city, the sea-oriented metropolis of St. Petersburg.
我们慢慢驶入因BAM而建起的城市——塞维鲁巴卡斯克(Severobaikalsk),它坐落在俯瞰贝加尔湖的荒芜、起伏的群山中。我们以为自己一路已经习惯了各种怪异的建筑,但是塞维鲁巴卡斯克的火车站还是让我们深感意外:它的屋顶好像是一个巨大的水泥滑雪跳台。后来才知道,屋顶代表风帆,象征着出钱修这座火车站的城市——海滨大都市圣·彼得堡。
Our train-rattled bones and our desire to linger in the BAM’s wilderness a bit more before the rail line rejoined the Trans-Siberian a day’s journey west compelled us to debark and try one of the legendary hot springs surrounding Severobaikalsk. We hired a driver to take us 40 minutes up the little road to Dzelinda spring nestled on a hillside amid a half-dozen pleasant little resort cabins.
我们的骨头都要被火车摇散架了,但是我们的心还想在BAM的荒野上再游荡一会儿。可是又西行了一天之后,BAM和西伯利亚大铁路重新交汇了,我们也不得不下车,去体验一下塞维鲁巴卡斯克四周那声名在外的温泉。我们雇了一个司机,花了40分钟沿着小路来到山腰上的泽林达(Dzelinda)温泉,它周围有6个可爱的小度假屋。
Immersing ourselves, very slowly, into the 110-degree pool we perked up as we heard a BAM train rolling through the forest on its way to the Tran-Siberian line and, three days later, Moscow.
我们缓慢地浸入110华氏度的池子里。当我们听到一辆BAM的火车穿过森林时,精神振奋了一下。这辆火车将并到西伯利亚大铁路上,三天后到达莫斯科。
“BAM might still see a glorious future,” Anatoly had told us back at Tynda, pointing to enormous stacks of lumber next to the station bound for East Asian markets. For us, bubbling in this wilderness haven within earshot of our smooth ride back to Europe, the BAM’s current state looked pretty glorious, too.
“BAM的未来可能还是美好的,”在提纳达的时候安纳托利指着火车站旁边即将运往东亚市场的巨大木材堆告诉我们。而对我们来说,在这荒野中的避难所泡着温泉,想着马上就能顺利返回欧洲了,觉得BAM的现状看起来也很美好。
ALL ABOARD THE PROLETARIAN EXPRESS
登上这趟无产阶级的快车
ON LAND
陆路:
Riding the entire length of the BAM train takes roughly five days with layovers at Tynda and Severobaikalsk. Bratsk, a five-hour flight from Moscow, is a convenient town for accessing the BAM near its western terminus. The eastern end of the BAM is easily reached via Khabarovsk, a two-hour flight from Seoul, South Korea, on Asiana and Aeroflot.
走完BAM全程大概要5天的时间,包括在提纳达和塞维鲁巴卡斯克的短暂停留。从莫斯科飞行5个小时可到达布拉茨克,那里是从西段搭乘BAM的合适地点。乘韩亚航空从韩国首尔飞行2个小时可到达哈巴罗夫斯克,从那里很容易到达BAM的东端。
BAM fares change according to season and routing. Mine averaged $110 a day for a second-class berth that I bought at the ticket window at the Khabarovsk train station. In the United States, Travel All Russia, in Arlington, Va. (800-884-1721; russiantrains.com), and Sokol Tours in Bradford Woods, Pa. (724-935-5373; sokoltours.com), are among travel companies that arrange BAM journeys.
BAM的票价随季节和路线有所不同。我在哈巴罗夫斯克的火车站售票窗口购买的二等卧铺平均每天110美元。在美国,可以安排BAM旅程的旅行社有弗吉尼亚州阿灵顿的“游遍俄罗斯”(Travel All Russia, 800-884-1721; russiantrains.com )和宾夕法尼亚州布拉德福德·伍兹的“索科尔旅行社”(Sokol Tours, 724-935-5373; sokoltours.com)。
Tynda and Severobaikalsk are popular stopping-off points on the route. Dzelinda hot springs near Severobaikalsk offers comfortable cabins starting at 1,470 rubles, about $46 at 32 rubles to the dollar, a night. Hotel reservations and a driver to the springs can be booked through Youry Namirovsky (travel@angara.ru; 7-9148-951-961).
提纳达和塞维鲁巴卡斯克是一路上最受欢迎的停留地点。塞维鲁巴卡斯克附近的泽林达温泉提供舒适的木屋,起价是一晚上1470卢布,按照32卢布兑换1美元计算,大约是46美元。可通过尤里·纳米罗夫斯基(Youry Namirovsky, travel@angara.ru; 7-9148-951-961)预订酒店和去往温泉的司机。
ON THE WATER
水路:
For an epic start or conclusion to the BAM trip, you can make the connection between the BAM and the Trans-Siberian Railway across Lake Baikal via a hydrofoil service between Irkutsk and Severobaikalsk from June to August (4,200 rubles; 7-3952-358-860; vsrp.ru). The hydrofoil is a breathtaking 12-hour ride across one of the world’s deepest lakes, usually with a stopover on the surreally landscaped island of Olkhon, a sacred spot for the local Buryat people.
如果想给你的BAM之旅来个史诗般的开端或结尾的话,在6月到8月,你可以乘水翼船渡过贝加尔湖,从BAM线上的塞维鲁巴卡斯克,到达西伯利亚大铁路上的伊尔库茨克(4,200 rubles; 7-3952-358-860; vsrp.ru)。这是一个长达12小时的令人激动的航行,将穿过世界上最深的湖泊之一,通常会在如梦幻般美丽的奥尔洪(Olkhon)小岛短暂停留,这个小岛是当地布里亚特(Buyat)人的圣地。
If you are feeling especially adventurous, you can cross between the rail stations on Baikal during the winter with hired drivers who will take SUVs across the frozen lake, stopping along the way to drill holes for ice fishing.
如果你特别想去冒险,你可以這季通过贝加尔湖在两条铁路线间穿行。你可以雇些司机,他们会开着SUV在冰冻的湖面上行驶,沿途停下来在冰上钻洞,进行冰钓。
The Baikal Complex tour agency in Irkutsk (7-9148-951-961; baikalcomplex.com) can arrange for summer and winter crossings of Lake Baikal, along with tickets, accommodations and tours on BAM.
伊尔库茨克的“贝加尔综合旅行社”(Baikal Complex, 7-9148-951-961; baikalcomplex.com)能安排在夏季和冬季穿越贝加尔湖,同时提供BAM线的车票、住宿和旅游服务。
FINN-OLAF JONES writes frequently for The New York Times about lifestyle, travel and culture.
Finn-Olaf Jones是《纽约时报》生活方式、旅游和文化栏目的撰稿人。
本文最初发表于2012年8月12日。
翻译:王艳
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