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Sleeping with Russian Ladies

Sleeping with Russian Ladies – Part I

News just in. This remarkable pastime, favoured by Russian men and American cold-war spies alike can be yours, and it can be safe. On Tuesday night, I think I was just a little unfortunate, and that’s why my shoulder hurt so much in the morning. I think she was Russian, as the other men in the 4-berth compartment on the overnight train from St. Peters to Moscow would occasionally talk to her in Russian. You could probably avoid the shoulder pain by not performing herculean tasks of bunk-bed-vaulting – or by avoiding the top bunk. And when I say sleep, I didn’t actually get much of that in the 8 hours on the train. Waking up in the tropical heat of the little room (little if you are six foot tall and like to sleep with your body straight) at every jolt and stop, wondering where on earth you are. That first thought of the morning or middle of the night. The bootstrap process in which you catapault your mind into conscious thought. Who am I? Where am I? Who is snoring?

Of course, the Russian lady I am referring too is the number 25 train. Any trainspotters out there would appreciate the big hunk of metal I spent the night with. Whinging aside, it was a corking experience, and it is with some sadness that I learned of the increased speed of trains to Irkutsk from Moscow – allegedly 4-5 days in the my guide is now a mere 77-86 hours.

Great lyrics of the day: Failure by the Swans

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