All through these weeks of non existent cyber activity, I have been a part of ping-pong schedule between Kiev and Istanbul and gathered a lot of soviet memorabilia, weight and experience. Even the girls at the reception in the Opera Hotel (to which I have been upgraded from the shabby daily flats which are heartbreaking central in downtown but smell of many numerous fellow travellers who have came to Kiev for some easy sex (but ended up paying twice for what they could easily get back at home) ) ask me if i would prefer to leave some stuff back in the room because I end up packing and unpacking every single week. I must have been looking really shabby after all.
As a designated traveller, I have excelled to squeeze a lot of clothing and stuff to a luggage that could fit on board (and here I praise my mother once again for lending me her beloved Samsonite microtraveller that is the best match for post-soviet luggage handling system - which is basically semi-drunk tadjik workers tossing the luggage to the nearest mobile carrying object).
Practice makes perfect: remembering the times when I had to think for hours about what to pack, I still laugh at the time when I have packed everything to smallest detail (from extra lenses to shoe polish) but forgot my suit just before an important networking event. As you all know, I had to buy a soviet suit (made from %76 industrial nylon and %23 unidentified radioactive material) and drag my friend all along the Kreschatyk in search for a tailor to fit the one-size-fits-all suit to acceptable posture.