A major Russian tradition is suffering. In my country, suffering is endless. Let me give you an example.
For most people, local trains are too expensive, and towns with populations under 500,000 don't have airports. Highways are either extremely dangerous with only one lane in each direction, or they don't exist at all. In countries that like to compare themselves to America, railroads are still king.
For Russians, hardship is the norm. Passengers with luggage have to climb the steep stairs of pedestrian overpasses without ramps, and do the same when descending. The most enjoyable time is winter, when the roads are frozen and there isn't a day that goes by without elderly people slipping and falling.
If only there was a pedestrian overpass. I remember when I was a child, my grandmother and cousin climbed between the passenger cars of a freight train to get to the correct platform. That was the only way to get to the right platform.
The platforms are considerably lower than the train doors. Boarding a train with luggage is a difficult task for Russians.
If only there was a platform. I remember as a child, on a train to Moscow, my grandmother and cousins were leaning over with their feet sunk into the gravel, their hands reaching out to grab onto the handrails of the carriage, all while the conductor urged them on, "We'll be departing in one minute!"
Then, in an open-plan sleeping car, I enjoyed the "comfort" of eating chicken, drinking vodka, and playing cards with 70 rough-and-tumble Russians.
In the early morning, a rural landscape and abandoned factories stretch out beyond the window, the conductor collects the bedsheets, and announces that all toilets will be closed 40 minutes before arrival.
No one is allowed to urinate or defecate on the train tracks in the capital city of their homeland.