Peace treaty.

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I woke up at mid-day. After last night's Moldovan red wine, Armenian beer, Russian vodka and German lager my head felt like an international summit, where talks weren't going very well.

I felt tired so I stayed in the flat all day. Over lunch Tamara Aleksandrovna asked me what she could do to make my meals better, which was a difficult question to answer. All the things that I enjoy at home - milk, sandwiches, chicken for example - are horrible in Russia, especially milk, and there isn't a culture of foreign food so I'm quite limited. If we really are what we eat then I'm definitely becoming pink and chubby like an eastern european sausage! I said that if it's healthy it's fine. I don't like offending her because she tries so hard to be a good cook, but she gets annoyed when I leave so much on my plate after something I simply can't eat.

I have started to translate my script for the spektakl. I have more lines than I first thought and our performance is less than two weeks away: panic is setting in.

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Photos

The Georgian restaurant.
Eating at Dukhan every night would have been expensive, but saved me from some very unpleasant meals.