#the shade at russia and all the “russia is your neighbour” people...

[the-jam-to-the-unicorn]

Easter Greetings by the President of Ukraine

Great People of Great Ukraine!

Today we celebrate a significant holiday — the Resurrection of the Lord. Easter. Easter symbolizes the liberation of the human soul from the slavery of evil and darkness. It symbolizes the victory of goodness and justice, the victory of life over death.

We have been fighting for all of this for 802 days in a row. 802 days of freedom standing up to darkness, valor standing up to terror. 802 days of our resistance, which can be described by the words from the Gospel of John: "The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it…"

The exact same words are dedicated to one of the exhibitions at St. Sophia Cathedral, where I am now. Together, this exhibition and the other works by various Ukrainian artists convey a deep meaning. These are the icons on ammunition boxes. They are saturated with the smoke of our land and the spirit of our people. They are the symbols of great trials and great power that helps us overcome them. Each of these icons is like a divine manifestation, a proof that the heavens are with us, an answer to the question of why Ukrainians have withstood. It is because in the most difficult circumstances and in the darkest times we are able to create light. We can do it on boards scorched by fire and grief, that came from Ukrainian cities and villages exhausted by suffering. We can do this by combining the seemingly incompatible: the war and the Lord, by overcoming evil with faith, overcoming adversity with hope.

When taking a closer look at these icons, one can understand the feelings of our entire nation. It's a mirror that reflects our reality in times of war, the path we have already taken, and this Easter, and our entire present. This is what our amulets look like today. This is how we feel that God is protecting us through the hands of our warriors. This is how we see the protection of the heavenly forces, embodied in the Security and Defense Forces of Ukraine, every Ukrainian who devotes themself to the sacred cause of defending their native land from darkness and evil.

These icons bear the names of heroes who sacrificed their lives to protect us. They showed that Ukrainians kneel only to pray. And never do they kneel in front of invaders and occupiers.

The Bible teaches us to love our neighbor. And the present has shown us the true meaning of this word. When we support and help each other even hundreds of kilometers away from one another. We protect each other. We pray for each other. When we all have become closer to each other, we have become each other's neighbors. And our former neighbor, who was always making us take him for a brother, remains distant from us for centuries. They have broken all the commandments, coveted our house, and come to kill us. The world sees it.

God knows it. And we believe that there is a chevron with the Ukrainian flag on the shoulder of God. Therefore, with such an ally, life will definitely prevail over death.

As we overcome a common path and experience common pain, we are all united today by one common prayer. We pray for all our warriors who are celebrating Easter in the trenches and on the positions. We pray for our warriors of light, who restrain demons in all directions. We pray for those who keep another commandment in their lives: to defend Ukraine. We pray that they all come back alive.

We pray for all our civilians who work hard every day to strengthen our state and ensure that it successfully overcomes evil. We pray for those who live and work for this purpose.

We pray for all our children, for all the boys and girls brave far beyond their years, whose childhood was stolen from them by Russia, but who, despite everything, have not forgotten how to smile and believe in miracles.

We pray for all our mothers and fathers who were robbed of a happy, peaceful aging, and who, despite everything, are holding on and taking care of us.

We pray for all our cities and villages, that should feel the Lord's grace, not the constant terror of evil, and which have black clouds hanging over them, and bombs and missiles coming from those who belong in hell, not in the Ukrainian sky.

We pray for our lands and our people, whose spirit cannot be broken. And we remember the words written in St. Sophia Cathedral above the Oranta image, which came true in our lives: "God is in the midst of the city, and it will not be shaken. God will help it before dawn.”

Today, we are praying for all Ukrainians who are waiting for this dawn and will certainly see it. They will find peace, truth, and God, who will return to the scorched land, the land scarred with craters and trenches. He will return with peace, tranquility, and flowers instead of mines in the fields. He will return with children's laughter instead of the roar of an air alarm. The light that will return to all of our Lord-given land, to all the territories that are temporarily occupied by the devils. God will return to Mariupol. To the slag heaps and the seashores. It has always been so. It will definitely be so. I believe in this every day, especially on this glorious day in this glorious place, the history of which reminds us that neither the Horde invasion, nor the Nazi occupation, nor the Russian terror will be able to wipe us off the face of the Earth.

May the heavens strengthen our will in the battle against thralldom. May they give us courage for new achievements and wisdom to appreciate all that we have already gained. May they give us the strength to maintain unity, and give us unity to enhance our strength. May God grant eternal rest to all those who gave their lives for Ukraine and everlasting peace to their descendants, to all our children and grandchildren, and to all our future generations. They have the sacred right to know what a peaceful Easter in a peaceful Ukraine is.

Today we pray for it and we fight for it.

And the light shines in the darkness...

Happy Easter to all of you, dear Ukrainians!

Christ is risen!

He is risen indeed!

[ghost1643]

Canada summers- Kara

Why the fuck did everyone say Canada snowed 24/7 back home?  Seriously it was all Kara could think about as she walked through Canada that spring.

For a while she assumed that her data bank had been wiped of Canada when she was reprogrammed for a reason. She always figured it was because her owner never wanted her or Alice to run away. She just knew it was because of that.

Or at least so she thought.

Turns out that was where his ex wife ran off to according to some research Kara had done since being freed. As a result of his her owner, Todd wanted to it was a country. Which was white ironic since he wanted hockey all the time.

Yet, she had still heard rumours as her and Alice escaped that hell hole and made their was to this country. Rumours like the place being covered in snow twenty four seven. It was something she had heard so often, even in the Canada border. So she thought it was true. Hell when they showed up and it snow she thought she was right. But, she was wrong.

So so wrong.

So fucking wrong.

Turns out it does snow in Canada as mentioned before. It was something she loved. It snowed towards the end of fall all the way to the middle of spring do to global warming. Then there was the God damn summer!

Don't get her wrong though Kara loved winter. She loved to building snowmen with Alice and Luther in Canada. She loved to go try skating with her human neighbours and their kids. She loved tow watch the snow flakes dance through the air on cold nights when it lightly snowed. Another thing she liked to watch in the winter was the puffs of cold air that left her mouth when the air was cold.

Hell Kara even found things she loved about blizzards. Things like having try to count a few snowflakes before they hit the snow banks. The most amount of snowflakes ever counted so far had been 15. Then there was the snuggling under the covered with someone you loved and your family. It was something Kara loved to do in the blizzards. She even began recording blizzards she watched outside and sent them back to Markus after the android revolution was a success.

Yet, there was one thing that made Kara hated her decision to move here after the revolution though. One simple thing.

Summer.

It had been something the humans had warned her about. She thought she would be fine. She thought she would be better then fine. Kara thought she would be cool still.

Hahaha Nope!

It turns out for every blizzards Canada had the more heat waves they had. Or at least that was what the Maritimes were like. She just had to pick there to live since it had been the first place to let Androids in after the revolution!

No that wasn't a bad thing. Oh no Kara found the Canadians quite charming and nice. They even warned her about the weather in the winter. Yet, they warned her more about the summer saying a lot of things like,

"You have to buy a fan or two or your inner workings might break."

And.....

"You're blue blood is gonna boil if you don't buy a fan."

And....

"When there's a heat warning on the radio stay in, or you're plastic shell will be melted to the ground."

Then there was an obvious fact she heard over and over again over her argument. She went on and on about how she her it snowed in Canada all the time. To whisk she always got the reply,

"I-Kara it doesn't snow in the summer here."

But did she listen?

No! And here she was today.

Today there had been a warning playing over the radio warning people to stay in. Kara didn't listen though. She went outside to go have fun.

All she could think about was how cute Canada looked outside as she sat down in a chair on her patio early that morning. She had gotten comfortable and was laying back with her eyes close. She began reloading as well as deleting things so she could take pictures when the sun rose. Yet, it lasted longer than what she expected it too.

Two hours later her eyes reopened. The sun had already set. So with a sigh she went to go in the house....only to find her arm melted to a chair.

Her face blushed a bright shade of blue realizing her mistake before struggling to get free. She tried so hard to get free by herself for twenty minutes. Then she called for Lunther. The male android couldn't get her free either, even though he tried for thirty minutes. Soon she had to yell for the neighbours who were currently trying to pry her free from the chair.

"My lord Kara you gotta listen to us about Canada more often." One of the neighbours teased. Kara bit her lip looking away while blushing.

"You listen as good as Ruby does. Right Ruby?" A women asked turning her head to look at her daughter. He teenaged daughter rolled her eyes as she scrolled on Instagram on her phone. The women, who was named Rose, sighed as she continued trying to use a spatula to get her free. Her husband was helping as much as he could.

"Well I just didn't think it would get this warm." Kara admitted bashfully.

"Neither did anyone else but, it's been getting as hot as 65 degrees in June since 2018." The human male smirked.

"You mean before the war with pressing trump and the atomic bomb being dropped here by 'accident'?" Kara asked. The male nodded.

Everyone knew in 2019, America's president had dropped a bomb on Canada. It ha skilled thousands. Yet, the president said it was an accident and the bomb was meant for Russia. That was when full on war broke out between Canada and America. America had lost a lot of allies due to its president. Due to this they lost causing a rift between Canada and America after the execution of president trump.

Since then Kara had found out America had wrecked the wild life here due to the bomb being set off in BC. It had made the summers go as hot as 105 degrees and caused a lot of species to die out. It was also why no Canadians were aloud to own an android since they were an American experience only, according to a few people in America.

Despite this though, Canada had welcomes American androids with open arms for the sake of a new era of peace. So far, Kara loved this era.

"And here we go!" Rose smiled as she freed Kara's arm. Kara smiled thanking her.

"Don't thank us. Just come stay at the house so we know you're okay. We have air conditioning that keeps you from melting again and Opal can fix your arm while Alice can play with Steven." Rose smiled taking Kara's good hand into hers.

Yup, Kara loved Canada.

And she doubted she would ever move.

[lindoig1]

Another Day in the Country    Day 18

We had a wonderful day today. Our driver arrived a bit earlier than planned so we were on our way by 9:50 for our drive to Bukhara, via Shakhrisabz, total distance between 4 and 5 hundred kilometres, I think. Our hotel had been really great too - a family homestay as much as a hotel. All very informal, people couldn’t do enough to help us, beautiful setting with big shade trees, just lovely.  And I loved the tapchans where we had breakfast.  I think I may have tried to describe them before I found a name for them.  They are raised carpeted platforms, often with a shady canopy, with cushions and often a table on which is spread an endless variety of food.  Not as comfortable as our recliners at home, but when in Samarkand, do as the Samarkandans do!  Or Bukhara or anywhere else in the East .

It was a truly spectacular trip: the best day of our trip so far we think. The first part was very mountainous with parts very steep and rocky and others less so put painted in a hundred shades of rich greens. There were little valleys running at all angles, all with small streams rushing to lower ground. Often there were quaint old farm houses, squeezed in between the trees, almost hidden from the road, secluded and often isolated from any visible neighbours. In the flatter areas there were large areas of land under cultivation, all being tilled, raked, planted, weeded, tended and harvested by hand. Many times we saw what appeared to be a family group of 6 or 8 out in the middle of a huge paddock, ‘ploughing’ it with hoes and spades, sometimes weeding by hand - a truly daunting job by our standards. Absolutely no mechanical assistance until we were well over halfway to Bukhara and then every second or third farm seemed to have a small tractor. Even then though, we only saw one small plough. The tractors seemed to be used exclusively for transport, hauling small wagons laden to the sky with fodder, firewood, produce for market and so on.

Along the road were many fake police cars. They looked somewhat real as you approached them, often with a cop standing beside them, but they are only a couple of inches thick. They are often illuminated at night and as a warning to motorists that the boys in blue are on the lookout for bad driving. Which brings me to roads. There are a variety of roads starting with the (sort of, maybe, possibly, moderately) good ones. Obviously, the best part of these roads is the crown so everyone hogs that part of the road, irrespective of which direction they are travelling. At 100kph, you are still bouncing around a bit and you have a stream of cars approaching at similar speeds, honking and flashing their lights in an endeavour not to have to yield their bit of the crown to you. Very scary and it beats me how they don’t have 1000 road kills every day. Then there are the not-so-good roads of which there are 3 types: the roads with potholes in the pavement, those with pavement between the potholes and those with potholes between the potholes. Interesting that most of the roads are really wide - 8-10 cars wide, so there are lots of choices as to where to drive. Everyone drives on the right side of the road in Asia except for the 90% that use the extreme left side until they have to move back to allow oncoming vehicles to pass. It is certainly an adventure, but our driver was excellent - none of us got killed yesterday. Fnigres coressed for tomorrow.

We had a couple of stops along the way to take photos at the most spectacular spots, including one with a bit of a market where we bought some dried apricots and dates as nibbles. It is of course Ramadan so our driver didn’t participate. We arrived at Shakhrisabz about 11:30 and our driver dropped us near the gate of the old partly-restored Citadel and told us he would wait for us at the other end of the complex. It was another huge area of gardens, slightly discreet fun parks and sideshows, a couple of mosques, a string of fancy hotels and of course the ruins of Timur’s Citadel and a really big statue of the big man himself. It was well over a kilometre to walk through the gardens, but it was pleasant with a few birds to try to see and some pleasant plantings - and a scattering of people all wanting to say hello and have their photos taken with the foreigners. Maybe we should start charging for all the photos? It is not an issue, but it seems odd to us that anyone would want to be photographed with us.

Everyone has a job here. I saw three women ‘mowing’ quite a large patch of lawn with hand shears. Every square inch of the towns seems to be under the head of a besom at least daily, wielded mainly by older women. There are quite a lot of litter pickers and everything is spotless - even the railings, plant- pots, and street furniture is scrubbed or wiped down regularly. I can’t imagine any need for the dole here. A lesson for Oz?

At the end of our walk, our driver pointed us to a nearby restaurant for lunch.

He said it was 5-star and we were the only ones there for a while and we thought it might cost us a bomb, but we had an excellent meal with all the extras for under $A12! A big tourist group arrived halfway through our meal so it was good that we got our orders in before them. Talking about food, I meant to mention our breakfasts at the hotel in the last 2 days. You arrive to find 16 dishes of various goodies waiting on the table and a little old lady cook buzzing around taking orders for cooked meals and drinks. There are several different salads, fruits, pastries, breads, yoghurt, you name it and the offer of more if you are dissatisfied with the variety. Amazing, and amazingly scrumptious.

After lunch, it was off to Bukhara, much of the afternoon through Aussie-looking desert - we felt quite at home. We passed some massive natural gas plants and our driver told us that it all gets piped to Russia where some is used, but most is exported to bolster the rouble with precious little coming back to Uzbekistan.

It was a wonderful day, quite relaxing, lots of interesting and very beautiful things to see and being so much closer to the ordinary country folk, we saw a lot more about how they lived. For example, I was fascinated by the thatched rooves and others made of corrugated iron or asbestos all held in place by big rocks instead of nails. We saw both cultivation and pastoral pursuits up close - cattle, sheep, goats, horses and camel farms (both types) - even stopped for photos. A lot of Uzbeks simply stand on the side of the road with their bundles waiting for some kind person to stop and offer them a ride to town or the market - the Uzbek version of hitchhiking and apparently very normal. (I later found out that anyone with a vehicle can provide a taxi service – and we have used this ourselves too – you just hold your hand out until someone stops, negotiate an absurdly low fare and jump in.  If the price is not right or your destination conflicts with the objectives of the other passengers, the driver simply drives off and you wait a couple of minutes until someone else stops who is happier with your offer.) It is apparently entirely safe and is the main way people get around – and it provides a good supplementary income for many of the drivers who may take 3 or 4 passengers to different destinations in one trip.  Another common thing in rural areas is the practice of mainly women and children standing beside their gates gossiping and watching the world go by. I’m sure it is a hard life for most people, but a much slower pace and from all indications pretty safe.

Bukhara seems quite a big city, but my guide the next day said it has a population of only 350,000. Our hotel is in the very centre of the old city and is quite comfortable, but it was a loooong walk with all our baggage from the nearest place the car could get to the hotel Reception area up an alley. But we are settled in and comfortable. One interesting thing is that there are no tea/coffee making facilities or minibars in Central Asia - although they are pretty good at providing them if you ask. But there are always two bottles of water and it is quite cheap to buy more.

[a-typical-male-witch]

Vasilisa the Beautiful Fairy Tale

Once upon a time in a village in Russia, lived a merchant, his wife and his daughter called Vasilisa. However tragedy stuck and the mother became ill. It became clear she would die. On her deathbed she gave Vasilisa a small wooden doll. She said "My dear Vasilisa, I am dying and with my blessing I give to you this doll. Carry it with you always and never show it you anyone. When in need or when sorrow befalls you give it something to eat and drink. Then tell it your sorrows and ask for its help, it's advice, for it will aid you." Shortly the mother died.

That night Vasilisa grieved for her mother so she gave the doll food and drink, saying "Take this my little doll, Eat and drink a little, and listen to my grief. My mother is dead and I miss her dearly."The dolls eyes began to shine like fireflies and it can alive. It ate the food and drank the drink then said "don't weep Vasilisa grief is the worst at night. Shut your eyes, find comfort and go to sleep. The morning is wiser than the evening."So Vasilisa did as the doll instructed and in the morning she thanked the doll, for her grief lessened a bit.

Soon after the merchant remarried but his new wife only loved him for his wealth. She was a widow and had 2 daughters of her own. She was cruel and full of hatred for Vasilisa. While Vasilisa was a great beauty her stepsisters were ugly and was full of contempt for her. All three envied and depised her. So they made her do errands and tasks that were very difficult so she would become thin and worn. They made her work all day so that the wind and the sun would make her face tanned and haggard. Despite all the work she grew in beauty everyday while her sisters became uglier.The reason for this was Vasilisa's doll. Without the doll the work ,set for Vasilisa, wouldn't have been completed. When everyone was asleep she took doll into a closet with food and drink. She fed the doll and asked for its advice and help. The doll's eye's lit up like glowworms. It would then tell her how to act. While Vasilisa slept the doll did all her work so that when the morning broke, Vasilisa could sit in the shade and pick flowers. For the doll would have weeded the garden, water the cabbages, brought lots of fresh water from the well. As well as other chores. It also told Vasilisa how to make an ointment from a herb to prevent her from ever being sunburnt.

Vasilisa reached the age to marry and many handsome suitors came to the house to ask for her hand. Each time the stepmother would say "The youngest cannot marry before the eldest." Everytime she sent away her suitors the stepmother would soothe her anger by beating Vasilisa. If not for the comfort and help from the doll she would have longed to leave this world.Her father had to leave to travel for a while so he said goodbye. As soon as he left the village the stepmother packed up the house belongings and moved to another dwelling ,far outside the reach of the village, that sat in the middle of a dark forest. While her two daughters indoors she sent Vasilisa out into the forest to gather a rare bush or flowers or berries. For the stepmother knew that somewhere in the forest close to their house, dwelt their neighbour Baba Yaga. A terrifying witch who lived in a hut that stood on chicken legs. The stepmother knew that Baba Yaga ate people and everytime she sent Vasilisa out into the forest she would hope that either Baba Yaga or a ferocious animal would eat Vasilisa. However due to the doll she always carried with her, she was guided and protected by the doll.

So one night the stepmother gathered everyone in one room ,lit by a single candle, and gave them jobs to do. One would knit, one would make lace and Vasilisa would spin flax. The eldest daughter instructed prior would extinguish the candle and make it look accidental. The stepmother said "someone must seek out a flame from out neighbour Baba Yaga."One of the daughters said " I have enough light to see my silver needles to knit." The other one said " I have enough light to see my silver pins to make lace." So they pushed Vasilisa out of the house and said she must go.She fed her doll food she had already readied and told the doll her fear of being eaten by Baba Yaga. The doll's eyes began to shine like two stars and said "As long as you have me, the witch cannot harm you. Fret not Vasilisa you shall be safe." Vasilisa began to set off on her journey. She traveled for a while and she heard horses hooves. Just then a man on a horse galloped past her. He was dressed in white, his horse was milk white even the harness was white. And as he passed her it became twilight. Again she heard horses hooves and a second rider galloped past her. This time he was dressed in red, the horse was was blood red including its harness. And as he passed her the sun rose.

She walked all day struggling to find a path. She had no food to feed her doll. Just as the sun was about to set she found the hut on chicken legs. Around the hut was a wall of human bones and on top of the walls were skulls. There was a gate in the wall whose hinges were the bones of human feet and the locks were made of jawbones and sharp teeth. Again she heard another horse. A man dressed all in black, with a coal black horse. The rider galloped and jumped over the gate and vanished. All of a sudden night fell. However the whole area where the hut and it's lawn stood was illuminated as if it was day. The skulls had a magical fire in their eyes that lit everything up. All of a sudden the forest groaned, the trees themselves seemed to move their branches for her the witch, Baba Yaga. She flew into the clearing in an iron mortar and steered it with the pestle. While sweeping her track behind her with a broomstick. She commanded the house to open up and the gate unlocked and opened for her. Before she entered she said "come out little Russian for I can smell you". Vasilisa could barely move but she managed to walk over to the witch and said "I am Vasilisa , my stepmother and her daughter's sent me to borrow some fire."Baba Yaga said that she knew them and in order to have the fire Vasilisa must complete some tasks for her however if she failed she would be eaten. They both went into the hut. Baba Yaga ordered Vasilisa to bring her food already prepared in the kitchen. Vasilisa did as she were told and brought her the huge feast she found in the kitchen. Once the witch was stated she gave Vasilisa a small amount of soup, bread and pig. Baba yaga said "tomorrow when I leave you must clean the yard, sweep the floors and cook supper. Then pick out the black grains and peas that have been mixed into the wheat. If you fail you shall be eaten.Then when the witch was sound asleep, Vasilisa fed her doll and told it of the impossible tasks that have been set before her. The doll eyes began to shine like two candles and told Vasilisa to sleep and not worry, for the morning is wiser than the evening.

So she did and in the morning when she awoke she saw from the window the white rider who galloped over the gate and vanished. Then it became light and the skulls were extinguished. Baba Yaga sat in the mortar and flew away. Just then the red rider galloped and vanished just then the sun rose. When Vasilisa began to start on the jobs she was asked to do, she saw that everything had been done. The floor was clean, the garden was neat and clean, she then saw the doll in the storehouse picking the last black grains and peas from the wheat. When it was done she ran to the doll and hugged it tightly, thanking it profusely. All Vasilisa had to do was cook Baba Yaga's supper. The doll wished her luck and climbed into her pocket become a lifeless wooden doll once again. After cooking she rested all day and at the evening she laid the table with the food. Again the black rider galloped, jumped and vanished then it became dark. The skulls began to shine and the forest creeked as Baba Yaga returned home. Baba Yaga looked all about inspecting the house and garden, and could find no fault to complain. Baba Yaga said "well done." She clapped her hands while calling for her servants to take the wheat and grind it. Three pairs of hands magically appeared, picked up the wheat and carried it away. Baba Yaga devoured the feast and said "tomorrow you will do the same however instead of the wheat you shall clean the poppy seeds. Dirt and rocks have been mixed in with the poppy seeds, clean and divide them." When the witch was fast asleep, Vasilisa took the doll in a corner and fed it food. Told it her tasks and asked it's advice. It told her the same advice, to go to sleep and not to fret. So she quickly fell asleep.

The next morning she found the doll had completed all the tasks and was currently cleaning the poppy seeds. She did the same as before, she cooked the food and rested till evening where she prepared the food for the witch's return.The witch came soon after the black rider galloped. She inspected the floors, the garden and the poppy seeds again she could find no fault. She called for her servants again to take and make an oil. The three pairs of disembodied hands came and seized the poppy seeds then vanished.   After eating Baba Yaga ate she gave permission to Vasilisa to ask any question. She asked about the riders and who they were. To which the witch replied that the white rider was the white bright day, the red rider was the round Red sun, the black rider was the black dark night, all three cannot harm thee and that they were her servants. Baba Yaga demanded Vasilisa to ask more questions but Vasilisa kept quiet for she knew that now every question leads to good. Baba Yaga said if she asked about the three pair of hands they too would seize Vasilisa. The witch then asked the girl "how is it that you completed the tasks with such ease and swiftness." To which Vasilisa replied "it was my mother's blessing."The witch shooed Vasilisa out of the hut for she did not want anyone with a blessing in her dwelling. She gave Vasilisa a skull with burning eyes and told her to hurry home with the fire.She mounted the skull on a stick and ran as quick as she could. Then morning came so the skull dimmed. Vasilisa travelled until evening came and the skull shined again. At last she found the stepmother's house. Thinking that after all this time surely they would have found some fire she tossed the skull into a bush. But suddenly it spoke to her and told her to take it to her stepmother. So Vasilisa did for she looked at the house again and saw no light coming from it.

Since Vasilisa had gone something strange happened to the house. The stepmother and her daughters could not bring fire into the house. The flint and steel would not spark and fire they borrowed from closer neighbours extinguished themselves as soon as the fire crossed the threshold. It was as if a spell or curse was cast upon the house. For the first time they welcomed Vasilisa back into the home with open arms for they were without fire and light which made them desperate. All three gathered around Vasilisa and the skull then suddenly the eyes Began to glow like red coals. The eyes and it's light followed them wherever they moved. The light grew brighter and brighter until the stepmother and her two daughters caught fire to which they burned to ash. Vasilisa was unharmed and the next morning she buried the skull. She set out to find a place to stay and thankfully she found an old woman who gave her lodge. There she waited for her father to return and find her. However sitting idly by bored Vasilisa asked for the old woman to bring her some flax so she could turn it into thread and then make linen for the old woman to sell. So the old woman brought her some flax and Vasilisa did spin it into thread so fine that no frame could weave it. So one night she fed the doll ,food and drink, and told it her trouble of finding a frame. The doll instructed her to bring it an old frame, hair from a horse's mane and a basket then go to sleep. When Vasilisa woke up the frame was built and she started weaving. She wove for months until the linen was completed and gave it to the old woman to sell in exchange for her lodging. But the lineb was so fine and exquisite that the old woman could not sell it at the market for it would only be fit for Tzar in the palace. Through great lengths the old woman presented it to the Tzar as a gift and explained her adopted daughter made it. The Tzar thanked her profusely and sent her back home with gifts. No seamstress had the skill to sew it into shirts for the Tzar so he sent them to the old woman asking her adopted daughter to sew them for if she had the skill to make such fine cloth then surely she must have the skill to sew them. Vasilisa did as she was asked and did so with such skill that in such a short time she made a dozen shirts. When she presented them at the palace, the Tzar instantly fell in love with her. They married soon after and lived in the place with her father and the old woman. Vasilisa then carried the doll in her pocket her life long.

[kasumi-chou]

The Engagement Party (Part One)

“Is he always like this?”

Yuuri glanced over his shoulder to stare at Nikolai who was watching Victor with an amused look on his face. He turned his attention to his fiancé, who seemed to be fuss over the flower arrangement for the third time in the last half an hour.

“He always gets fussy when something involves Yurochka or myself,” he sighed softly while shaking his head. He turned his attention back to the oven, looking over the pirozhki which were finally a nice shade of golden brown. He slipped on his oven mitts before pulling them out and walked them across the kitchen to place in front of Nikolai.

The elder man looked over them for a moment before breaking a little bit off and taking a bite.

“Good,” Nikolai praised, causing him to sigh in relief.

“Yurasha!” Victor called out, hurrying into the kitchen with Makkachin a step behind the man.

“Yes?” he replied while slipping off the oven mitts.

“Are the decorations okay? The colour doesn’t seem off, does it? We can still change it,” Victor asked, looking at him with a worried look.

“They look fine,” he ensured Victor while holding out a hand, “Come here and try my pirozhki before a certain someone notices they are done.”

Victor stared at him for a moment before nodding his head, hopefully accepting that the decorations didn’t need to be fixed for the five time today. His fiancé moved towards him, slipped perfectly into the space beside him and wrapping an arm around his waist while peering at the chilling pirozhki in front of him curiously.

“How are they, Nikolai?” Victor asked the elderly man.

“He has improved since the last time he made them for me,” Nikolai stated simply, giving them a gentle smile. Victor reached for one of pirozhki with his free hand, only to gasp and pull his hand away after touching the hot pastry.

“You knew I just took them out of the oven,” he sighed, as he quickly grabbed Victor’s hand and turning it over, checking for any burns. He found nothing and shyly pressed a kiss to his fiancé’s fingertips in relief.

“Sorry,” Victor chuckled, squeezing his side gently.

“PAPA!”

A shout echoed further in the house, catching all three adults attention. After a moment, Yuri came hurrying into the room, Potya being held up in front of the boy, looking completely relaxed despite the uncomfortable position.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Potya won’t wear her bow,” Yuri whined, holding the cat up higher in the air. He let out a soft sigh as he untangled himself from his fiancé and moved towards his son. He scooped Potya into his arms, cradling the cat properly while accepting the pink bow Yuri pulled out of his pocket.

“Come on,” he said while moving into the dining room. He pulled one of the dining room chairs out of the table before kneeling in front of it and setting Potya down on the chair. He ever so gently looped the bow around the cat’s neck, making sure to be careful of her ears and whiskers before straightening the bow.

“There we go,” he said, turning towards Yuri who was grinning brightly.

“Now we match!” Yuri shouted, turning around to show him the blue bow that was holding the end of his gorgeous braided ponytail together.

“Wow,” he cooed, reaching over to press a quick kiss to the boy’s cheek. Yuri let out a whine while stumbling back a few steps to rub his cheek.

“Yurochka,” the boy glanced up at the sound of his name, smiling brightly at his grandfather while hurrying towards the man, “Your papa made pirozhki.” Nikolai said, patting Yuri gently on the head.

Yuuri let out a small chuckle at the squeal of delight that came from his sons before the obvious question of if he could have one left Yuri’s lips. He turned back to Potya, planting a gentle kiss on top of the cat’s head before standing up.

“Vitya, did you remember to get the wine out?” he asked while carefully tucking the chair back into the dining table, being careful not to hurt Potya as he did it.

He sighed as he heard what he could only conclude was a French swear before Victor hurried out of the room.

“You sure you want to marry that?” Nikolai questioned him while helping Yuri into one of the other barstools at the kitchen bench.

“Definitely,” he stated simply as he went to collect a plate for Yuri to eat off of.

The party was in full swing and Yuuri didn’t know what to do with himself.

He suddenly felt nervous and out of place despite being in his own home.

Sure, he wasn’t good at parties, but he hadn’t expected to be this nervous about having so many unfamiliar faces in his own home.

The few people he did know though, seemed to be enjoying themselves, thankfully.

Nikolai was seated on the lounge, locked in a conversation with Yakov, Lilia and Minako. All four of them seemed to be enjoying themselves, sipping wine as they argued among themselves about something he didn’t understand.

Anna had arrived early to help them set up – not that it was needed with how fussy Victor had been – bringing with her a large plate of vatrushkas – something that Victor had gushed over after ‘sampling’ one.

Currently, she was seating in the front window seat, Potya pressed against her side as she talked with Georgi about the newest romance movie to hit the cinemas.

Victor was floating around the house with Yuri a step behind him, happily making conversation with all the unfamiliar people. His fiancé seemed right at home, completely unbothered by the number of people in their house.

Yuri, though seemingly attached at Victor’s hip, didn’t seem bothered by all the people either. Greeting many of the people Victor started talking to by name, even cracking a shy smile for a few of them.

He let out a small sigh as the doorbell went off again, half hoping that it was someone he knew as he went to get the door.

He plastered a smile on before gently opened the door, only to pause at the sight that greeted him.

In front of him stood Christophe Giacometti and Phichit Chulanont, two of Victor’s skating rivals.

“Hi!” Phichit greeted with a bright smile while reaching over and grabbing one of his free hands to shake it, “I’m Phichit and this is Christophe.”

“Bonjour,” Christophe said, winking at him.

“H-hi,” he mumbled, blinking at the two skaters in front of him, “I’m Yuuri.”

“Yuuri,” Christophe cooed, “What a lovely name!”

“T-thank you,” he mumbled while ducking his head and dropping his gaze to the ground.

“P-please come inside,” he mumbled, stepping to the side to let the two skaters in.

He stood to the side awkwardly, letting the pair come inside before gently shutting the door behind them.

“Oh, wow, the house looks incredible,” Phichit said in delight as he shrugged off his coat.

“Very tasteful,” Christophe agreed.

“Thank you,” he mumbled while offering to take their coats. He was a little confused why the pair had coats, seeing as it was Summer, but chose not to question it.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” he asked politely while leading them towards the dining area where all the food was set up, along with the collection of alcohol Victor had prepared for them.

“Just a water for me,” Phichit said simply.

“We are in Russia, not America, you can drink here,” Christophe spoke up, nudging Phichit shoulder, “I’ll have a glass of whatever Victor is drinking.” He nodded his head as he grabbed a wine glass and poured Christophe the white wine Victor was currently drinking. He smiled as he handed the glass over before turning back to Phichit.

“Are you sure you just want water? We also have sparkling apple juice?” he offered.

“Water is fine,” Phichit mumbled with a pout. He nodded and quickly collected a glass of water for the Thai skater.

“So, Yuuri,” Christophe hummed, “How did you meet Victor?”

“We use to be neighbours,” he said softly.

“Oh? Back at that crappy apartment building?” Christophe questioned. He chuckled while nodding his head.

“Yeah, we were neighbours for almost three years before we meet,” he explained.

“But how did you meet?” Phichit prompted.

“He fell and I caught him in my arms,” a new voice sighed before an arm was wrapped around his waist.

“Victor!” Phichit said brightly, flashing a blinding smile towards his fiancé.

“I am disappointed in you two. Immediately cornering my beautiful fiancé, not even coming and saying hello,” Victor huffed while glaring at his fellow skaters.

“Papa.” He glanced down at Yuri, who was holding his arms up at him. He smiled softly as he scooped the boy up into his arms.

“And this must be Yura,” Christophe cooed, catching the boy’s attention immediately.

“Yes, Yura,” Yuri confirmed, glancing between the two men in front of him before he gasped.

“Vicchan, Vicchan,” Yuri said, reaching over to tug on Victor’s shirt, “They skate like you.”

Victor let out a chuckle as he nodded his head.

“Yep, this is Chris and Phichit, say hi,” Victor said, pointing to each one in turn.

“We watched you on the tv,” Yuri said in delight, “You went up against Vicchan.”

“We did,” Christophe said with a smile, nodding his head. He glanced over his shoulder as the doorbell went off again. He smiled apologetically while moving to set Yuri on the ground.

“No,” Yuri whined, reaching out his arms from Phichit. The Thai skater didn’t waste a moment, taking Yuri into his arms and smiling at the boy.

“You going to be a skater just like Victor?” Phichit asked Yuri, who nodded his head.

“Yes! I’m gonna be the bestest!” Yuri declared loudly.

He chuckled softly at Yuri’s statement, pressing a quick kiss to Victor’s cheek before heading towards the door again to greet their next guest.

Skater Next Door AU

AO3 Skater Next Door / Skater In Training 

[drev-the-ambassador]

Can you tell us a little about food in Finland, like... What do you eat day to day? What are sweets like? Which fast food chains are the most popular? or something else you think is interesting. Thank you! :D

Thank you for the ask! I can tell you a lot about food in Finland, fortunately, because both of my parents happen to be cooks, so I can ask about stuff from them. A lot the information I’ll tell you probably came from them.

Well, first off, I want to say that today Finnish people often eat food that isn’t necessarily traditionally Finnish or anything, for example my town has at least 5 pizza-kebab restaurants, and spaghetti is very popular. This thing called “raketti-spagetti” is sold in stores, it’s just normal spaghetti but cut into shorter pieces, and the name literally means rocket-spaghetti. I’m not sure how that name came to be, but it rhymes, so maybe it just sounded funny…? I don’t know. Stuff like rice is pretty common too, even though it’s in no way traditionally Finnish. Anyway, I’m sure that a similar phenomenon (the international foods thing, not raketti-spagetti) exists in almost every country.

Also, the Finnish cuisine has gotten a lot of influence from our dear neighbours, Sweden and Russia. Especially Sweden. So anyway, if you’re from either one of those countries and I say that something is Finnish when your country has the exact same thing, please blame my ancestors for not being more original. Although I’d like to hear about foods or customs similar to these I’m about to mention from other countries, so if you’d like to, please share them in the tags!

Okay, so I think I’ll start with the fast food- part of the question.

Finland doesn’t have that many fast food chains, really. We have McDonald’s, Burger King, Subway, and soon a few Taco Bells. Like, three. BUT! We do have a chain of our own, Hesburger, which is my personal favorite out of these. It is the most popular fast food chain in Finland, with 268 restaurants. For comparison, McDonald’s has 65, Burger King 32, and Subway 155 restaurants here.

If you want to have a taste of Hesburger’s food, but don’t want to come all the way to Finland, that’s totally fine! There are Hesbugers in eight other countries, too: Estonia (42 restaurants), Latvia (44), Lithuania (47), Russia (34), Germany (3), Ukraine (3), Bulgaria (3) and Belarus (1). Pretty impressive for a chain from such a small country, huh?

I hope this doesn’t sound too much like an ad, this post is not sponsored by Hesburger. I just think it’s pretty neat. I don’t know where the restaurants are more specifically, but I’ve been to Tallinn and there were a few Hesburgers there. They have really good paprika-mayonnaise! Just saying.

Scratch that, I now know where is the Hesburger farthest from Finland: 

Now, for sweets, I think I’ll have to make their own post, but we do have a lot of different kinds of candy in Finland, since we have two bigger and several smaller candy manufacturers, the two big ones being Fazer and Panda. Fazer also makes bread and cookies.

Popular candies are suklaa (chocolate) in different forms - bars, slabs (?? I hear that is also called a bar sometimes? Like smaller bars like Snickers and then slabs like the one I’ll show a picture of), chocolates, like the ones sold in a box, with filling or without, you get the idea, a lot of chocolate - and, of course, salmiakki, salty liquorice. Salmiakki candies get their amazing/awful taste from ammonium chloride. Mmmm. Potentially life-threatening chemicals combined. Delicious. (pic source)

Here is perhaps the most iconic Finnish sweet: Fazerin sininen, Fazer’s Blue. It’s just simple old milk chocolate and yet is the most popular candy in the country. Is it really that good?

Yes. Yes it is. The shade of blue used in the wrapping is trademarked*, by the way.

Okay, moving on to the day-to-day stuff…

In Finland we drink the most maito (milk) in the world per capita, a bit over 360 liters. The 2nd is Sweden by the way, with around 356 liters. We also consume the most kahvi (coffee) per capita, the national average being around 2.6 cups. Seriously, people here drink coffee all the time. In the morning, after lunch, when you come to visit you can be sure you’ll be offered a cup of coffee, at weddings, at funerals, with dessert, I mean, all the goddamn time. Sometimes they don’t even have a reason I’m sure. You know when at work there are those shorter breaks? In Finland a break like that is called kahvitauko. It means coffee break, which I’m sure is a familiar concept in other countries too.

But yeah, people do drink milk at every meal - not everyone, of course, but most people - and for people who are lactose intolerant there are special kinds of milks where the lactose has been processed already, so lactose intolerant people can drink it safely.

This is our fridge. That milk probably lasts like half a week. The light blue one is fat-free.

‘There is also this thing called piimä, which is a drinkable product made from milk with Lactic acid fermentation. It’s not my favorite, but it’s okay.

Maito versus piimä. (source) 

Apparently there is a strict divide in Finland between west and east, where west likes piimä better, but east prefers something called kokkelipiimä, which, to me, sounds very suspicious, and I did not know it even existed. It’s piimä with something more solid also made from milk mixed into it. Looks like this.

I seriously had never heard of it. I do live in the western half, so I suppose the divide is real. Huh. (source)

A traditional Finnish drink, kotikalja, is often drunk at fancier occasions, for example at the Christmas meal or at some other celebration, like weddings or such. It has a bit of alcohol, but so little that it doesn’t really count as an alcoholic beverage. Wikipedia tells me that it’s similar to Estonian kali, Swedish svagdricka, Dutch oud bruin and Russian kvass. It’s not the same, but it’s similar. People drink it with food.

(source also includes a recipe for kotikalja)

 There is a Finnish word ruokajuoma, which means any drink that is often drunk at meals, like water or kotikalja or milk and sometimes also juice.

This post is getting really long, sorry about that. Anyway, we eat a lot of different keittoja (soups) here too. Most of the time they contain potatoes (perunaa), carrots (porkkanaa), possibly other vegetables, and some meat (lihaa). Kalakeitto (fish soup) can be creamy (I love it) or clear (not so good). Lihakeitto (meat soup) and jauhelihakeitto (minced meat soup)are usually clear as well. There is also hernekeitto, which is made from peas, minced meat or ham or something and some carrot. People can add mustard and onion to it. It’s often eaten on Thursdays, a habit that has spread from the army. There every Thursday is hernekeittopäivä, hernekeitto-day. With hernekeitto the dessert is usually pancake with jam. (pic source)

The pancake, pannukakku, doesn’t look like what you might expect, though. It’s like this.

(source)What is the closest relative to the other kind of pancake is called lettu here, or räiskäle, and it’s closer to a crêpe or a blin. (An actual blin, in Finland there is some misconception about blinis being small and thick… things, but maybe people would otherwise mistake them for a räiskäle?) (source)

 They are usually eaten with jam or sugar or whipped cream, or ice cream, or berries, or all of them. There are also muurinpohjaletut, which are cooked differently. (source)

A very basic dish we eat a lot here is potatoes and some kind of kastike (sauce). The sauce usually has pieces of meat, or sausage, or minced meat. We use a lot of minced meat. The picture example is made with makkara (sausage). (source)

When it comes to leipä (bread) I might be a little biased, because my parents bake a lot of bread themselves. Most households usually have at least two types of bread available, some lighter bread like piimälimppu for example, and ruisleipä. It is very Finnish, even though rye bread is eaten elsewhere too. In grocery stores you can find many shelves full of it. There are even rye chips here! Not French fries, or potato chips, really, more like nachos. But made from rye. Weird. (source of pic below)

One of the many forms of rye bread. (source)

Usually the shelves would be full but it was late and almost juhannus. That’s all for rye bread there. (Don’t mind my sister’s hand btw)

You can get rye bread in dried from too, all crunchy and pretty tough. Examples of this, dry, crunchy, though perhaps not that tough bread are näkkileipä and hapankorppu. Näkkileipä is often served in schools, since it doesn’t go bad easily. Both näkkileipä and hapankorppu are the best when they have some butter (voi) on top, at least I think so.

Hapankorppu in the front, näkkileipä in the back. 

“Which side do you put the butter on?” is a common topic of debate between Finnish people. (It’s the side without the holes, fight me)

And yet another traditional Finnish food that’s eaten like bread and has rye in it, is karjalanpiirakka, Karelian pie. It’s basically rice porridge in a crust made from rye flour. It is also called riisipiirakka. There are other versions of it as well, for example they can have mashed potato instead of rice in them. It’s traditionally eaten with munavoi, boiled egg and butter mixed together. It is heavenly. It’s the stuff in the picture way up there, actually, but I’ll refresh your memory.

(source)

Another pretty basic, and quite traditional Finnish food that is still pretty popular as I understand, is makaronilaatikko, macaroni casserole, made of macaroni, minced meat, and a mixture of milk and egg. All the ingredients are put together and mixed, and cheese is put on top, though not in traditional versions. Then the whole thing is put into the oven and cooked for some time, and then eaten usually with ketchup. It’s one of my favorite foods.

(source)

Fish is eaten fairly often, but pork, chicken and beef are probably more common. In summer we eat a lot of sausages and nakki (frankfurters) (?? I have never heard this word). Most common spices are salt, suola and pepper, pippuri. There are also a ton of prepared foods in markets, and I mean a lot. Whole aisles, many meters, of foods like makaronilaatikko or jauhelihakeitto that you just need to warm up. Convenient. One of my favorites are pinaattiletut, small lettus with spinach in them. I like them a lot. There are also the same kinds of small lettus made with carrot. Oh, and also blood. They’re called veriletut in Finnish.

(source)

Well, I’d love to tell you more, but this post is already way too long, so. I’ll end it here. If you want to know more of something specific I mentioned, ask, and I’ll try to get a post made. I’m planning on covering a few topics here more in depth in the future, but we’ll see.

Oh, also, a lot of the sources for the pictures in this post also feature a recipe, though they’re in Finnish. If you’d like me to translate one of them so you can try it out, just ask!

Thank you for the ask again!

(*edited because I, the smart person I am, mixed up copyright and trade marks. Sorry about that.)

[notconsolation]

The Russians

Or Part 2 As Requested By Avia @slampoety

'The Russians' is what I call them when I talk about them, but their real names (? actually now that I think about it those could easily be aliases they adopted when they fled the country) are Oless and Katya. 

Again, getting ahead of myself because when I walk in, he is the only one there. He ushers me in and I think we're both a bit confused. I'm not really sure what this place was and he doesn't know how I found them. He says so and I say I'd followed the sign and that I'd been caught in a storm up the mountain. 'Ah yes' he says, like it's the beginning of a sentence, but doesn't continue. I take off my shoes and he shows me into a small room with a bed and a cupboard squeezed into it. I ask him how much it is for the night and he does that thing where you roll your lips into your mouth and hold up a finger as if something has just occurred to you, and grabs a leaflet that's lying on the table. 'She usually takes care of... this stuffs. Ah yes, here,' and he shows me the part where it says: €16 per night.

'Oh, right,' I nod and do my being as nice and polite as possible because you're a stranger and you have the power here smile. I mean €16 is also better than I'd hoped for, so I am actually happy, but exhausted and aware that this setup is vaguely sketchy. Still dripping.

'So,' he says, gesturing around a bit, and I drop my stuff and we leave the room. 'Toilet is here' as he leads me next door, 'shower is here' as he leads me one further down, 'and kitchen is here' as we turn in the narrow hall to enter the kitchen, which also contains a large round table covered in a laminated plastic tablecloth patterned with fruits in a red-through-green colour palette.

'Sit down, sit down! Are you hungry?'

'Oh,' I smile, still dripping. I've sat down now but I know there'll be a wet mark when i stand up. 'Thank you but I'm good.' I realise as I say this that it's a really weird thing to say? To a non-native english speaker it must seem odd: 'I'm good' yeah okay cool I'm glad but what does that mean in terms of whether you would like some food or not.

But he gets that I'm saying no and does the something just occurred to me finger thing 'I know, I know,' he mutters as he turns and reaches for the fridge door. 'Ah yes' the Russian accent is strong and I'm really trying not to smile at it. He pulls out a bottle of dark liquid. Alas, my Slovenian is, uh.. how u say? terrible? non-existent?? but even so I can tell that whatever is on the label is not in the bottle. Cool. This is fine. Cool.

'This I have ancient Slovenian herbal, ah... medicinal,' he gets two shot-glasses out, 'very good, very healthy. It is very old and traditional mountain drink.' I'm smiling and making interested noises like the fucking white girl I am. 'Very healthy.'

He also gets out a bottle of vodka. A Big Bottle, mostly empty. Russians. 'We have to make a toast' he tells me. 'It is forbidden to drink without making a toast to something'

He pours me a large shot of the Very Healthy Unlabelled Dark Slovenian Mountain Liquid. Cool. This is fine.

'Okay. what should we toast?'

He looks out the window. 'Let us toast the weather and hope it gets better soon'

He puts the bottle down and pours himself a shot of vodka.

A snapshot of my brain at this moment in time: WHAT THE FUCK YOU FUCKING WHITE GIRL, GOOD LUCK NOT GETTING DRUGGED AND SOLD HUMAN TRAFFICKING HAPPENS I SAW IT IN TAKEN, OR MAYBE TURNS OUT THIS IS THE BEGINNING OF SPLIT 2 YAY MOTHERFUCKER IT'S YOUR OWN FAULT HAVE FUN IM OUT.  

Hyperbole, maybe, but I'm tired, okay. And you have to admit that was a sketchy move on his part, not drinking the same mystery thing he gave me. So like a fucking champ/idiot white character in a movie, i take the shot. It tastes like anise, basically like a good version of jägermeister.

'Is like jägermeister, yes? but good'

'yeah,' I reply. 'It is. So, um.. Where are you from?'

'Ah, yes!' He tells me. I'm inclined to agree. He's pouring another shot and I'm not dead yet so why not. He sighs a bit. 'Long story, I'll tell you. What do we toast? Ah! We toast to your health'

We do, and drink.

'Okay,' he says. 'Okay,' he says, and starts telling me about how he got here. He's from Russia, as is Katya, who isn't there right now. I'm still not clear now on their relationship. They aren't married but I don't know how they ended up living together. It didn't feel right to ask. They came from Russia when Putin came to power, more or less. They don't agree with his opinions and they don't like the way he does things, and they knew that wasn't a point of view to be lived with comfortably in Russia, so they moved. I suspect he simplifies the story a little for me. We don't know each other and I don't have a right to any secrets he might want to keep. I ask him a little about whether Slovenian is similar to Russian, and how long they've been in this house, doing this Airbnb business. This is a stab in the dark, I have no idea whether it's an Airbnb or just a friendly guest house. I'm right, though, and he says they'd been there 3 years, that Slovenian was very difficult, and that the people are quite traditional and closed off. He tells me stories about getting to know his neighbours and being invited to birthday parties and plying people with alcohol. He seems nice. I say I asked about the language because I'll be learning Russian at uni next year. He is delighted and pours us another shot. The conversation turns to me and why I'm there.

He clearly thinks I'm mad for going up in the storm and from here on out he refers to me as a hero. Of course, this means we have to drink again, toasting heroes. We talk about the difference between travellers and tourists and about democratic socialism. We drink again to cats when they cat wanders in. I ask whether it's a boy or a girl and he shrugs and makes an 'eh' sound. 'It was a he and then it was a she and now... Nobody is sure.' I like that and I say so, so we drink to non binary cats.

At one point I sneeze and say I should probably go take a shower and get into dry clothes. He agrees and so I do. It feels heavenly. I fall onto my bed and think about the day for a bit. Then I hear voices in the kitchen, so I tiptoe back out. Katya is in there, now. She sees me and goes: 'ah!' and starts cutting up some watermelon to offer me. Oless, as I find out he is called, is making tea in an elaborately patterned tea set. It's tessellated in white and shades of blue and orange, with red and green accents. The cups don't have handles, and are basically just tiny bowls. Those are my favourite kind.

He turns. 'Would you like?'

I'm still hovering near the door, but Katya pulls me in and gives me watermelon. 'Yes please,' I say as I sit down. There's something on the stove, too. We drink tea and he tells me more stories. We was in the soviet army, at one point, and he got the tea set from an old friend in Uzbekistan. He tells me about the difficulty of buying bread during the occupation, first because people would not take their money, would just heap free food on them, then, later, because doors would shut and even friends would smile sadly and say they couldn't sell them anything.

The cat is aggressive. He likes me at first, but seems very prone to turning and biting for no reason. The only explanation Oless offers me is that it's a Russian cat. I still think about that cat a lot. It has seen shit, I'm sure of it.

Two other girls arrive in the kitchen. They're both American, travelling together. We exchange niceties etc etc etc tbh there's not much to say. We got along really well and a lot of alcohol was involved

He's still calling me a hero and now (thanks vodka) I feel like one. We've mowed through the vodka and have moved on to limoncello by the time the Australians come home around 23:30. Apparently they had some car trouble. Honestly I don't remember exactly how the night ended, only that we had some kind of Russian galette stuffed with mushrooms and sour cream, and that he brought out a box of fish pickled in brine with juniper berries and we all spent a good deal of time pulling out their intestines so we could eat them whole. It was a good night.