Running a Hostel and Grown Men Crying: Friday 6th April

We arrived in Krasnoyarsk to be met by yet another snowstorm, and so swiftly headed off to the hotel that we hoped to be staying in, only to find that it was closed. Thankfully we were able to use Josh’s iPod touch and the free wifi of an adjacent coffee shop to find another nearby hostel. After once more venturing out into the blizzard we eventually managed to succeed in finding ‘The Titmouse Hostel’, but only once we had followed a random women into what looked like an abandoned apartment block. Upon being let into the hostel we were informed by fellow travellers that there may be beds, but that the owner was currently away. Not to worry though, as his mother would be along shortly, and whilst she didn’t speak a word of English she would be allegedly be able to iron things out. In the meantime we were left alone in the hostel, during which time I had to welcome other (Russian) guests, explaining to them that no I didn’t speak Russian, no this wasn’t my hostel, and no I had no idea what I was doing answering the door. Eventually the mother appeared, and via (yet more) mime and phone conversations with her son everything was sorted. The hostel itself is actually lovely: beautifully decorated, clean, centrally located, and cheap. It could just do with a more efficient doorman than a very confused Yorkshireman.

Cooking up a storm at ‘The Titmouse’. Josh was appreciative of the efforts, if not the washing up.

This afternoon we took the bus out of town, and headed off towards the nearby nature reserve. At least that was our intent, what actually happened was that we got off the bus about 3 miles too soon and ended up in the middle of a soviet council estate. After eventually getting our bearings we set off in what we assumed to be the correct direction, only to be caught in a blizzard. This led to frayed tempers when after precisely 0.3 seconds my hands did their usual trick of dropping to absolute zero, causing me to want to take refuge in a nearby supermarket. Josh, who by now was already (quite rightly) fed up with my lack of a functioning circulatory system, was having none of it. This caused me to stomp out of the foyer of the supermarket and almost face plant straight into a nearby railing. I tried to bury the pain, and the storm soon subsided, we made our apologies and within a couple of hours all feeling had returned to my withered hands, a result of an afternoon.


About truehamlet

Sam is a senior lecturer in Science Communication, who researches the different ways in which media such as poetry and film can be used to communicate science to new audiences.
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