“The adrenaline fizzing in my blood dulls my judgement. I am not as scared of the man in the ugly green uniform as I should be. But I don’t bother him: it’s pointless to look for thieves after dark in a labyrinth of creepy housing blocks like Kryukovo. The militsioner says goodbye, tells me to be careful in future, punches the drunk in the face for smoking in the carriage, and steps off the train”.
Continue reading how I was mugged on a Russian train, and why I spent the night with the Moscow police, on the Australian Mailer Report.