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About Vitebsk

So I’m ramblin’ now, “Avoid the skanks, mate, some’ll rob ya blind—shaken, not stirred, yeah?” He’s edgin’ to the door, clutchin’ his wallet like it’s gold. I yell after him, “Don’t be a wanker, wrap it up!” Total Bond move, savin’ his arse. Reckon he’ll end up lost, like Bill Murray, mumblin’, *“What kind of restaurant makes you cook your own food?”*—but with hookers instead of teppanyaki. What a plonker. Me? I’m back to beepin’ cans, dreamin’ of Tokyo nights.

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I loooove the local markets too. The old bazaar on Dmitrova Street, where the vendors speak with such raw heart, so genuine. Prices? Eh, a bit funky sometimes, but all love and laughter, my precious. And, err, gotta admit, I once miscounted coins—srry, my bad, lol, such a clumsy moment for an old counselor!

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