The Secret Garden and Late Nineties Cheese: Friday 20th April

This morning Josh and I headed over to the Kremlin, where another refusal to accept my Japanese ID card as anything other than an absolute sham resulted in us both paying the full price of R350 to gain access into the grounds. It turns out that this didn’t amount to very much more than entrance to a couple of reasonably fancy cathedrals and being told by burly security men to stop walking within 1cm of an empty road with no traffic. Of particular annoyance was the fact that whilst the Kremlin map given to us upon arrival clearly depicted an area marked ‘Secret Garden’, when we tried to enter said area we were resolutely denied by a very officious-looking guard. I managed to resist a sardonic comment regarding Frances Hodgson Burnett, partly because of my lack of Russian, but mostly because of the very large gun.

Only now did I feel truly at home in Russia.

Tonight Josh and I headed out for a night on the town with a few of our fellow hostel dwellers. The evening began by (successfully) convincing dodgy looking Russian ‘club-owners’ that we were more interested in a venue which we could leave with both our wallets and our teeth, before settling on a rather nice cafe/bar/club hybrid called ‘Bilingua’. In spite of the name it was pretty much a ‘onelingua’ venue, but despite the obvious language difficulties, everyone seemed friendly enough, and we were treated to several hours of late nineties cheese, before heading back to the hostel at around 4 am, with both our wallets and our teeth firmly intact. It was just a shame about my dignity, which I left on the dance floor at almost exactly the same point as I had during late nineties, the first time around.

About truehamlet

Sam often finds these 'about me' pages a bit of a chore, not to mention rather difficult to set the correct tone for. In his opinion it is very difficult to construct a meaningful paragraph or two about oneself that gives an interesting insight into the author's life, without seeming to appear trite, abrasive, or indeed severely narcissistic. But, being Sam, he will attempt to give it a go. Sam moved to Tokyo at the end of September 2010, on a scholarship that allows him to study Japanese, and pursue his latent ambition to be a playwright. As well as having this rather forbearing pipe dream that carries before him in the style of an well-rehearsed, cliché ridden monologue, Sam has a Ph.D. in Atmospheric Physics and a grand unified theory that involves teaching, theatre, climate change, and two unified bodies lying motionless in a filed somewhere. As you can probably tell by now, Sam's main joy in life is writing about himself in the third person. This is why he got into the theatre in the first place, not for the fame adulation, or success that is ultimately beyond his reach, but for the opportunity to regularly write about himself in this perspective. He hopes that you enjoy his blog, and that it gives you an insight into what it is like being a neurotic Northern lad, now gone for 27, in the Far Far East.
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