I'm afraid that the delay between posts may mean that the details from this time may be fuzzy but I'm trying my best to recall everything. If only I were more like Adrian Mole. Curses. The third day of my travels was also the day on which I met the Vodkatrain group, i.e. my travel companions for the next three weeks. So I woke up late (again) and moved to the hostel that the tour company had chosen, namely Red House (Jimi Hendrix themed because Russia). This was just the other end of Nevskiy Prospekt and was not much further than walking to the bus stop and I couldn't deal with the bus again so I made the decision to walk there. This, I think, was not a good decision. A fact to which the perfectly
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