After giving someone directions, providing restaurant recommendations, and acting as a self-proclaimed tour guide for the Bolshoi Theater (the tourists were happy to get in the doors so mis-information and little historical expertise was irrelevant), it's official: I'm home. And I have to say, settling in for an extended stay has its benefits.
Said benefits?
I live in a forest. Quite literally. This provides some beautiful scenery, fresh air, and a good laugh now and again. Because I live in Moscow. In a forest.
Check out my backyard.
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In case you couldn't see the forest through the trees, here's my front yard.
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And driveway. More appropriately dubbed a walkway for my purposes.
As for the apartment itself, I like to refer to it as my cabin. Because when you can't get enough of the woods outdoors, you might as well bring them inside.
Indoor highlights include my spacious shower. Every day in here is a bit of an adventure, given the handheld shower nozzle. I can multi-task, but in the past I haven't been able to effectively employ that skill when washing my hair. Or needed to. But thank goodness for a challenge!
Another highlight? The mocking curtains at the foot of my bed. "You think Russian's hard??? Just try translating THIS when you wake up first thing in the morning!" Nothing like a slap of humility to start off the day.
Last, but definitely not least, I would like to introduce you to my second door, which deceptively looks very much like a window. Those of you who recall my first incidence of imprisonment have been, I'm sure, waiting with baited breath to know if there was a resolution to the 2nd Cold War: Stephanie vs. Russian Locks.
10 days, my friends. 10 days. From first report to repair, this was a lengthier battle than I would have liked. I climbed out AND in of said window in pencil skirt and heels on more than one occasion, no small feat given the height of the window and relative instability of the small ledge on the way out. (The lock ceased to function from the exterior as well). I originally started keeping tally of my window exits, but abandoned doing so when it became an embarrassingly large number. Clearly the lock was winning. The day they decided to fix it? Also the day I had to move apartments. So who really won here? I'll let you decide.
I, personally, refuse to consider myself ousted by a lock.
Said benefits?
I live in a forest. Quite literally. This provides some beautiful scenery, fresh air, and a good laugh now and again. Because I live in Moscow. In a forest.
Check out my backyard.
As for the apartment itself, I like to refer to it as my cabin. Because when you can't get enough of the woods outdoors, you might as well bring them inside.
10 days, my friends. 10 days. From first report to repair, this was a lengthier battle than I would have liked. I climbed out AND in of said window in pencil skirt and heels on more than one occasion, no small feat given the height of the window and relative instability of the small ledge on the way out. (The lock ceased to function from the exterior as well). I originally started keeping tally of my window exits, but abandoned doing so when it became an embarrassingly large number. Clearly the lock was winning. The day they decided to fix it? Also the day I had to move apartments. So who really won here? I'll let you decide.
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