sofasurfers

As we’re packing up our possessions that have ricocheted around our host’s high-rise apartment, it occurs to me that, as a host now on his 14^th set of guests, Max must have something of a collection of objets oublies. “Ach yez, cluck cluck cluck,” he says, convulsing in laughter (as he is prone), “It’z like a muzeum here, cluck cluck cluck. I have towels, I have trousers, I have toozbrushes…. cluck cluck cluck.” Well, maybe we’ll bequeath something to the British wing –we say in jest, we hope.

Another thing that occurs to us is that it’s hard to be selfish as a couchsurfing guest. We are in a major hurry to leave Max’s place as there’s lots we have to do before we catch the Trans-Siberian Express to Ekaterinberg – like going to MacDonalds (for its free wifi, honest), buy a new camera (we didn’t break one, honest). But Max won’t let us go until he has burned a disc on his computer – he won’t say what it is.

Juzt 10, maybe 15 minutes, guys! And I can copy your photos?

But Max, we really can’t….Ok, sure - here’s our smart card.

Ollie and I exchange looks with bitten lips – it’s impossible to say no to someone who took a day off work to take us round Moscow but time is really tight and we are already late. ‘Yes’ is easier than ‘no’ in this instance. Finally, it’s finished, and Max presents us with a copy of Ryazonov’s Joke of Your Life film with English subtitles - the Russian film shown every new year about how easy it is to confuse one Soviet apartment block with another (a recurring theme for us, it turns out).

And, as we later discover, we have indeed bequeathed my microfibre towel and Ollie’s gel pack for cooling his broken leg to Max’s museum - happily if unwittingly traded for the film.