Publisher's Synopsis
Tourists in all the Intourist hotels in all the principal towns of Soviet Russia exchange the same fragments of conversation. "Have you done Moscow yet?" "No, I'm going there to-morrow night. I came in by Odessa. I've done Kharkov and Rostov and Kiev." "Ah, then you're going out by sea from Leningrad. Unless you're flying from Moscow?" "No, I shall be going by sea. Have you done Odessa and the south?" "No, I've done the Caucasus. You should do the Caucasus. What is Odessa like?" "Odessa is delightful. The hotel at Rostov was good except for the cockroaches. The food was bad at Kharkov.' "Ah, there was a Frenchman here yesterday who had just come from Kharkov, and hesaid the food wasn't good." And at this gratifying coincidence everybody looks pleased. Sometimes it is a little like the survivors of a shipwreck meeting on a fragment of desert island. "Are you still all right for soap?" "Yes, I shall just last out till Kiev. What about you?" "Oh, I'm all right. I brought a great deal. But my ink is pretty low." "There's an American lady who can let you have ink. She gave me some in Leningrad and she's coming on here. She had safety-pins too."
