When I Find Myself in Times of Trouble

The pride of Krasnoyarsk is the "singing bell tower", positioned right outside of my hotel, that not only dongs each hour, quite loudly into the seventh floor I might add, but plays a special tune each day at noon.

It was today, August 1, 2005, that I heard the single worst version of the Beatles "Let it Be", ringing for miles to be heard. It was just not the tower's synth-bell that made it wretched; rather, it was all the drunken townspeople "singing" -- phonetically, of course -- to the song, caring nothing whatsoever about things like pitch, tone, cadence, passion or listenability. It was enough to make both John Lennon *and* Paul McCartney spin wildly in their graves.

What next, "I Can't Get No Satisfaction?"

One thing these mad Russians have got right, though, is how they've livened up the movie going experience. For example, PikaPark, with the faux airplane-crashed-into-wall motif, is a combination movie theatre/bar/nightclub, where you can pass freely between all three. A thick layer of fresh chicken wire is constructed nightly inches in front of the screen, presumably to encourage the whipping of bottles at the bad summer imports from Amyerika. There must have been a real party when Fantastic Four debuted there!

Got the train ticket and I'm on my way to Novosibirsk tomorrow evening, as Rod's Siberian Misadventure continues...