This pink-stilettoed beauty strutted her stuff in the middle of a downpour like nobody's business. She stopped the traffic, literally. The whole city of Moscow yawned. There are different kinds of hunger.
The staff at our overpriced hotel in Moscow were definitely not required to smile at their customers. We ordered two cappuccinos at breakfast time but the waitress seemed offended. She scoffed, did a dramatic eye roll and tsked as she walked away. I would see the same behavior at the infinite number of metro stations, restaurants, museums, and parks.
Although I'm not a chatty social butterfly, Russians stroked me as a tad distant, a tad un-engageable, a tad impenetrable. I'm still wondering if decades of a communist regime altered not only the collective but also the individual characters of Russians. Or maybe, it's just Moscow. Maybe Moscovites are to Russians like New Yorkers are said to be to the rest of America.
Junk food was out of the question. I haven't eaten a hamburger in over ten years and the sight of a hotdog makes my insides recoil. Taking five trains and making it across Moscow to go back to Izmailovsky market was not an option either. Eating at fancy restaurants was unthinkable. They are too overpriced, too un-affordable. A couple of small cappuccinos and one slice of black forest cake= 60 Us dollars. No way Jose. We started to look for options and neither starving nor breaking our fast with cheap vodka made our list. We found a nearby bakery that sold fresh-out-of-the-oven cheese pastries to die for and moderately priced bottles of wine. And so we survived on bread and wine for a few days. Needless to say this biblical diet made us feel holier and holier with each passing day. So much more aligned with my principles and MO than Catholic confession.