Buying kapusta piroshski from the local babas.
They haul up everything you can think of to hawk on the platforms, from bread to vodka. And thank dog, because no food otherwise - stores are few or we don't have time to leg it to one, and the dining car is, well, dismal.
Thanks to the constantly replenished and coal-stoked samovar in every carriage, we drank endless cups of tea, and ate a lot of instant noodles. I did get the best home made kielbasa since my Mom's from a baba with dozens (really) of gold teeth and a cat in her backpack. I am pretty sure the cat was not an ingredient.
