Hitchhiking in Russia
January 12th 2009 It was the night of Russian Christmas, January 7, and the bathhouse anteroom was freezing. As I disrobed I noticed that the black furry thing hanging on the wall was not a fur hat at all, but a severed cow head - perfectly preserved. I was too cold to feel surprised. I turned away, threw open the door and entered the bathhouse proper.
Sveta and I celebrated Christmas in the village of Stashkov
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