Just When You Think Muscovites Can't Surprise You Anymore...

So I was having a bit of a rough day.

Landlord issues, basically, and finding an apartment in Mosow is no fun, no fun... and I've got two major seminars to prepare that I need to concentrate on, and a client list that is making my headache just to fit them all in. Nothing dreadful, but enough to make you a little crazy.

So I head outside, having been stuck in the flat all day, to work on a park bench, have a beer, get away from typing, and generally clear my head by immersing myself in the fascinating world of accent reduction. Then, out of nowhere, the man on the bench next to me offers some of his pistachios. Well, actually, he gives me a bag, and a bag of cashews, and won't take no for an answer.

I keep working.

Then the man uncaps a beer, and hands it to me, and--again--won't take no for an answer.

Well, spasiba, stranger. You have no idea.

He then strikes up a conversation, tells me where he works, listens to my apartment woes, talks about how hard it is to move to Moscow, and exchanges passports for curious perusal....and the whole time keeps offering me random things from his grocery bag.

In short? This is what I came home with:

Chocolate, two beer (consumed on site), a package of cashews, a package of pistachios, cigarettes, sour cream, and a kilo and a half of beef sausage. The kitten was already mine.

And if you are wondering, no, no I don't think this is as per usual.

And I thought nothing here could throw me anymore...