It is a frigid, ice-blue morning as we wait for a train out of town. The sun has not yet risen, and distant mountains stand black against the horizon. On the station platform children in leopard spots yawn, and hardy babushkas struggle with loads for their winter dachas.
Skiers talk softly in the snow-muffled quiet.
This is Krasnoyarsk, crumbling metropolis of 1m on the banks of the mighty Yenisei river. Away from the belching smokestacks of its industrial left bank, it is almost a handsome city. For most people, though, life is hard. Wage arrears mount month on month. Pensions are late and inadequate.