In a child’s imaginary world, inanimate objects come to life of an evening and have the capacity for infinite adventures and mischief. With the passage of a few years of wisdom and time spent backpacking, one realises that this is in fact true.

However, the “other world” is solely inhabited by plastic bags, which become animate and migrate to the opening of backpacks, eager to escape at the first possible opportunity. This is usually in the early hours of the morning, in a hostel dormitory room inhabited by drunken late-comers, snorers, coughers and key rattlers.

Due to the lack of youth hostels in Russia, I got used to either renting a private room, sleeping the accommodation rooms at train stations, or even staying in shared doubles in hotel rooms.

I’ve just been reading this amusing post about “Going from Traveller to Tourist in 5 easy steps”, and am a little alarmed at the ominous signs emerging. I’ve started going away for weekends with someone else, a sure sign of the traveller turned tourist road to ruin, and whilst I’m avoiding the transition to a little suitcase with wheels, my travel companion has a largely unused one in his possession (but I think that’s a French thing…)