Day Seven:

Said one French traveller I encountered at my hotel in Vladivostok:

"I went to the service centre to buy a train ticket. They said to me that they could help me out, but that I would need to pay a 200 rouble service charge. I said that I didn't need the help, since I can speak Russian, and that I was only looking for a timetable. They said that they could tell me the train times, but that it would cost me fifty roubles."

He concluded, "Now I know that I am in Russia!"

Indeed, Russia is really draining my wallet. So much so, that I will cut the Russian voyage short by a couple of days. I know that this is partly because the American dollar has dipped so much compared to the Russian rouble. Whatever the cause, I am paying fifty bucks for my super-shitty hotel. And earlier today I spent twenty-eight bucks on lunch without even thinking about it. Fuck! I will have to stick with self-catering and sleeping on trains to make up for all of this.

Oh... I did save a few bucks by buying my first train ticket for third class. They tell me, though, that it is quite rancid. We shall see.

This is a port town, both in civilian and military terms. The Russian military men are interesting to look at: big men, with bulbous sort of noses... from all of the vodka, perhaps. Many of the older sailors sport the same beard and side burn styles seen on the men celebrated in the local historical museum. That's cool. The Indian navy is in town right now, and those thing, immaculately dressed young men cut quite a figure beside their swarthier Russian comrades.

What else? It's a ruined kind of town. It's got the same very old, once-great buildings from the early twentieth century that were on display in Shanghai's suburbs last year, but also the same cheap concrete monstrosities of Ulaan Baatar and other post-communist cities. But there are also lots of beautiful things; colorful storefronts, the over-polished train station, and so many young people. And, of course, like everywhere else, there are hints of money and wealth and opulence and all those cosmopolitan things. Well, the people aren't exactly cosmopolitan, but they are really pretty...

*;35, Hotel Moryak.