Unavailable Funds
March 31, 2010 by admin
Filed under Linger Longer
Linger Longer: Driving the Trans-Siberian
Chapter 11: Unavailable Funds
After a hearty breakfast and two hundred cups of coffee,
we flee Parnu and arrive in the capital city of Tallinn
around noon. Finding a car park near to the Ferry Disaster
Memorial, we smarten ourselves up and go for a stroll
through the enchanting Old Town. Desperately trying to
avoid the hoards of tourists, we wander around the castle
walls and admire the tall church spires and restored
medieval buildings, which spring out at every turn. Si
takes my photo in front of the Alexander Nevsky
Cathedral, and we watch playful actors dressed in 14th
century costumes entertaining the crowds in the colourful
Town Hall Square. Shattered from lack of sleep, Si quickly
develops sightseeing overload, and happy to drive I let
him snore away in the passenger seat as we leave Tallinn
and head closer and closer to Narva – the gateway to
Russia.
Hurtling along the Tallinn-Narva highway through the
Lahemaa National Park, I begin to feel nervous as we
approach a country that conjures up a million images of
Lenin and Stalin, the cold war, the KGB, Red Square, concrete
tower blocks and freezing cold weather. When I was
a kid I remember watching Boris Yeltsin on the news
climb on top of a tank during the coup in 1991, and seeing
footage of the queues of people in Moscow as Russia
opened its first McDonald’s. Throughout my life Russia
125
has been a place of danger and mystery, and approaching
the border myself for the first time absolutely scares the
living shit out of me.
We arrive in Narva, Estonia’s easternmost border town,
just as it’s beginning to get dark, which seems incredible
considering it’s nearly eleven o’clock at night. Si spots a
24-hour petrol station on the edge of town, and we park
up for the night next to a Russian articulated lorry.
Snuggling inside my lovely warm sleeping bag, I find
myself worrying about money. This is a very rare occurrence
for me. In fact, it’s something I don’t do enough.
‘Hey, Si,’ I whisper into the darkness.
‘Yeah?’
‘Money!’
‘What about it?’ he grumpily replies.
‘How much have we got?’
Si opens one eye. ‘What are you talking about? Go to
sleep.’
‘No, it’s important. How much money have you got on
you?’
He stirs. ‘Don’t know.’
‘Check.’
‘Why?’
I sit up and flick on the interior light. ‘We can’t cross
into Russia without money.’
‘Turn off the bloody light. I’ll check tomorrow.’
‘Best do it now.’
‘Chris, sort it out tomorrow, you annoying prick!’
‘We have to be prepared if we’re going to cross the border
early. I’m going to get some cash out now, I can see an
ATM just over there.’
‘Do what you like.’
Unzipping my sleeping bag, I fall out of the Sierra and
gently close the door behind me. It’s cold outside and
extremely quiet. There’s no one around, just five rusty
126
lorries parked up nearby. I fold my arms and make my way
quickly across the forecourt. Approaching the cash machine,
I reach inside my pocket and slip my bankcard out of my
wallet. The Cirrus logo glows above the keypad as I feed
my card into the slot and glancing quickly over my shoulder,
I speedily enter my pin number. On the display it
prompts me to select the amount I wish to withdraw, I
choose 3,000 kroons, which is approximately one hundred
pounds. Starring at the display, I wait impatiently for
the machine to kick-start into life and spit out my cash,
but nothing happens. I continue to wait, but it seems to be
taking longer than usual. My heart begins to beat faster
and suddenly my worst fears are presented to me – fears
that haunted me throughout my college days. The words
“Unavailable funds” scream out at me.
‘Unavailable funds!’ I spit. ‘What the fuck?’
I look over my shoulder again before pressing the cancel
button. My card pops out and I try once more – slowly this
time. The same thing happens. I glaze over and my legs
turn to jelly. Something must be wrong with the machine.
Maybe it doesn’t accept Cirrus? But it says it does. Maybe
it’s my card? Maybe my bank has fucked up? Maybe someone
has got hold of my bank details and stole all my
money? Maybe … and this is just a wild guess, maybe I’ve
spent it all? Shit! Yeah, that must be it. I’ve spent all of my
fucking money. Sliding the card back into my wallet I
return to the Sierra, feeling totally confused. I climb into
the car and stare out of the window.
Si turns to me, and frowns. ‘What’s the matter with you?’
‘You’re not gonna believe this.’
‘What’s the matter?’
‘It’s my money.’
Si whips off his woolly hat and sits up. ‘What about it?
Oh, shit. You’ve just checked your bank balance, haven’t
you? What’s the damage … five hundred quid left?’
I shake my head. ‘Not quite.’
127
‘How much, then?’
‘Uh…’
‘You’re not at your limit already, are ya?’
I look away.
‘What? Couldn’t you get any money out?’
I shake my head. ‘Nope.’
‘But I thought you’d paid off your overdraft?’
‘Yeah, I did.’
‘Well … where’s it all fucking gone, you idiot?’
‘I don’t know, do I? I’ve got seven-hundred quid of it in
Traveller’s cheques.’
‘And what’s your limit?’
‘One thousand five hundred pounds.’
‘Well, that should leave you with eight hundred quid.’
‘Yeah, but there were a few costs before we left and
we’ve been spending quite a lot, haven’t we?’
‘Chris, you can’t have spent eight hundred quid!’
‘Hmm … I could have.’
‘You dumb-ass! Will you ever have any money?’
‘Fuck off, Si! At least I’m not a tight arse like you, counting
every penny like an old miser.’
‘Hey, I’m not shy getting it out when the moments rocking.’
We sit in silence for a second.
‘Well, I’m not lending you jack shit,’ Si mutters. ‘This is
what happened in Mexico, remember?’
‘Keep your mullet on! You lent me two hundred quid
and I paid you back immediately.’
Si winds down his window and takes a deep breath.
‘You should keep an eye on your finances.’
‘Don’t lecture me!’
‘I’m not.’
‘It’s none of your business, anyway.’
‘It is my business, especially when I’m the one who has
to bail you out all the time.’
‘You don’t have to give me a penny. I’m fine!’
128
‘I don’t believe it, Chris. We’re not even in Russia yet
and you’ve already run out of money.’
‘I haven’t run out of money! I’ve got seven hundred quid
in Traveller’s cheques.’
‘Doesn’t that have to get you back home as well, though?’
‘I suppose, but I’ll worry about that when we get there.’
‘What, when you get to the other side of the frigging
world?’
‘Uh … yeah.’
* * *
The alarm on Chris’s watch wakes me with a start. It’s
4:30am and it’s starting to get light. I drive through the
deserted streets and follow signs to the border, which
annoyingly take us on a five-mile diversion around the
outskirts of town. Dipping under a low bridge, we burn
past a large factory before picking up the signs again.
Weaving through the back streets of Narva, we eventually
approach an official checkpoint. Jumping out of the car, I
walk over to a small booth and proceed to have a very confusing
conversation with the woman sat inside. She waves
to her colleague, who dashes over and explains to us that
we need to go to another place to get a form. Making some
space for him on the back seat, we feed the dude sweets as
he directs us to a small brick building at the far end of a
car park. We queue up behind a dozen old Larda’s, and he
leads me across the car park to the office. The official
inside the small office stamps our documents and gives
me a receipt of some kind. Our personal escort chats to the
official and they both begin to laugh. I get the distinct
impression they’re laughing at my hair.
Back at the other checkpoint, our documents are
stamped and we’re pushed right through. We proceed to
129
drive onto the Friendship Bridge, which stretches across
the Narva River, and join a long queue behind the same
Larda’s as before. We look in awe as the sun begins to rise
over the Russian town of Ivangorod. I climb out of the car
and admire the two huge castles that face each other on
either side of the river. It’s an amazing sight to see and a
clear reminder of Estonia and Russia’s medieval past.
After about twenty minutes, car engines begin to splutter
into action along the line. We jump back in the car and
inch slowly towards the barrier. It isn’t long before we
reach the front of the queue. Popping the bonnet, I wait
patiently for the official to inspect our vehicle. Everything
seems to be in order, and waving us through we pull up at
yet another booth, where our passports and customs declaration
form for the car are checked over. The stocky
woman behind the counter shouts at me in Russian, but I
don’t understand what she’s saying. Pointing aggressively
at the entry stamp, she looks at her watch and points back
in the direction of Estonia. Realising she wants to know
when we will be leaving the country, I quickly scribble
down a rough date of about two months. She mutters
something and sends me away with a flick of her wrist.
Exiting the final barrier we crawl along a bumpy road,
and as if by magic we suddenly find ourselves on Russian
soil.
We made it!’ Chris laughs, swinging his door open.
‘We’re in bloody Russia!’
‘Don’t get out,’ I cry, grabbing his arm.
‘Why not?’
‘There’s probably bandits hiding around here somewhere,
waiting for dumb-ass tourists to cross the border
with all of their cash.’
‘What cash?’
‘OK, all of my cash.’
Ignoring me, Chris jumps out of the car and begins dancing
around. An old man cycles past on a rusty bicycle and
130
stares at him suspiciously. He looks like a peasant farmer
from the 1800’s.
‘We’re in Russia!’ Chris sings spinning around and
touching the ground.
‘This is going to be well and truly fucked up!’ I shout out
of the window. ‘What the hell do we do now?’
Chris jumps back into the car. ‘Head for St Petersburg, of
course. We have to register our visas within three working
days.’
‘How far is St Petersburg?’
‘About a hundred miles.’
‘We’re a hundred miles away from St Petersburg?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Excellent!’
Buy it on Amazon!
