Good taste and high quality guaranteed.

If you couldn't tell from the pictures, here are bacon (бекон) and red caviar (красная икра) flavored Lays chips. Don't second guess them at all!! They're goooooooood.

...Can't break me down...bury me, bury me!!

FIRST - Relax. I'm not getting married anytime soon.

SECOND - Don't forget that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. This is purely my opinion.

Ok, please proceed.

Yesterday, I went to an open-air market where they sell lots of clothes--including wedding dresses. Russian wedding dresses catch my eye. It's like a decorated Dominican cake in wearable form. Overly...decorated. It seems to me that people see elements that they like and then combine it all in one dress. It's not my cup of tea...or cognac...or brandy. And it definitely doesn't tickle my fancy...though the lace and tulle probably itches.

A wedding dress shop not too far from my old flat.

This is what I meant when I wrote that they combined every element into one dress.

Another example...

Wedding ceremonies vary by culture and country. In the US, people usually get married in a church and ask their sister to do a reading and cry her brains out in front of everyone. In Thailand, you get strings tied around your head, pray, then old people pour water on you. In Argentina, you ride down a crowded street naked in the trunk of a car for the bachelor/ette party. And Indian ceremonies are loooooong (but really fun).

In Russia, the age where people usually get married is pretty young. A flatmate once joked that you don't see anyone over the age of 25 because everyone is at home, married with children. And I don't think it's that far from the truth. Actually, I'm 23 and some people ask if I'm married. NOPE.

1. Find your lifelong partner (people usually fail with this step and continue on to the next).

2. Find your perfect wedding dress (beauty is in the eye of the beholder).

Step 3. Sign up at ЗАГС and get married officially. That's the Russian version of our city hall marriages. And they do it like a factory line. Saturday is an auspicious day, so it's super busy then.

Step 4. Parade around.

Step 5. Decorate your car (see at full view for the full effect).

And that, dear friends, family, and anonymous readers, is why I am eloping. But again, relax, it's not happening for years.

P.S. If you know where the post's title is from, you probably wear skinny jeans and eyeliner. Cool.

P.P.S If you understand why I chose the title, you probably lived with me for four years.

I shake my 'bon bon'

I found Argentine tango in Samara! Summary: I accidentally fell in love (typical) with Argentine tango while at GWU. I studied for 6 months in Mendoza, Argentina and continued to dance there. Tango and my decision to study in Argentina were completely unrelated when I applied to the study abroad program. I came home with a few pairs of tango shoes (see Facebook for additional pictures). When packing for Russia, it didn't even cross my mind that there would be a tango community here (there's one EVERYWHERE, no matter how small the city is...it's like Thai people). I went to one milonga (dance event) and was thrilled. Hardwood floors, perfect atmosphere, good dancers, etc. Snow boots or tango shoes alike- I just...wanna...dance.

This past weekend, I was invited to a salsa event. Of course, the "inviter" couldn't dance salsa but invited us out to a salsa party...he didn't major in logic either, you see. All in all, it was a fun night. And a lot of dancing. End of that story.

The point: I need to seek salsa communities rather than tango ones. Fewer creepy old men.

The problem: No shoes. And dancing in clunky boots is like going to a sauna in clothes. It's possible, but strange.

Revisiting snowmaggeddon

News about the blizzard in Washington and New York made it to Russia. Russians told me about it before Facebook could. I've written about the harsh cold and the snow here. I'm glad that we can share these experiences together now. I thought we finished with the snow and the unnatural cold, but it's still going. There is a layer of ice that's a few inches deep (almost like a step). For most of the winter, people didn't bother removing it because they knew that it would just come back again. A few weeks ago, it started snowing and I thought, “Hooray! The snow will cover the ice and give me better traction.” And I fell (for the third or fourth time).

One major difference between snow storms here and snow storms in the US is that life here doesn't stop. There aren't fewer people on the streets just because there's a foot of snow on the ground. People don't stop going to work or to school. In the US, people rampage supermarkets and stock up for the storm. I think this habit is reminiscent of the times when families had to prepare for nuclear attacks. It makes sense. I've only seen people delay meetings/classes/work when it was -30 degrees Celsius outside. Here, the government isn't very good at keeping sidewalks or roadways clean. Perhaps the reasoning is, “What's the point when it's just going to snow again?” So be grateful when you walk on snow-free sidewalks and when you drive on plowed roads.

There are doctors, epidemiologists (hint-hint), teachers, nurses, accountants, and IRS agents. They are all important in society, but the one profession I'm very grateful for is the ice breaker. The men and women who stand there all day with a big stick cracking the ice off the sidewalk. I express my gratitude with no sarcasm whatsoever.

What do I do? I keep going. I complain about it and watch my hands turn different colors, but I keep going and I look for the light at the end of the tunnel. It's just getting over the 0 degree mark that's important. Some days, like today, I can even feel the sun.

There was a possibility for me to escape to a warmer climate for a few days, but for bureaucratic reasons, it didn't work out. The immigration office could learn a thing or two about efficiency from these hard-working ice-breakers. And THAT is the truth.

Kiss a foreigner who has been to the Bashkort Republic

Month 5. I haven't seen my family since September and five months is the longest I've gone without seeing them. I miss my family. From the non-born, to the recently born, and to the really old members in my family, I really miss them. In these five months, a lot has happened and I've learned a lot. In these five months, I didn't travel outside of the Samara region until this past weekend.

Welcome to the city of Ufa, located in the Bashkort Republic. It was extremely refreshing to get out of Samara for the weekend because Ufa is clean, feels less-congested, and I spent time with a family. Being with ANY family feels good at this point, even if it's not mine. I'm a happier girl, now. And very full.

Fur coats just like the REAL Russians.

Elza, momma, and noisy cat. We are so grateful that they hosted us this weekend. They define hospitality.

My first real ballet with a live orchestra! And it was only about $2. "Raymonda"

My first visit to a mosque. There is a high Muslim population in the Bashkort Republic.

I learned how to crochet in Russia. My next project: learning how to cross-stitch profiles of famous communist leaders.

We went to a museum where I learned how big animals really are.

American-Chinese diner.

When people don't have refrigerators or don't have enough room in it, they hang food outside where it's also cold.

We went to a lemonarium(?) where the lemons are as big as softballs.

Outdoor zoo. Just...don't do it. There were bears, foxes, horses, wolves, dogs, and a camel.

I've been trying to get this picture for WEEKS. This is how children are transported in the snow. This is not only for fun, but it is used as TRANSPORTATION. Genius.

Her name is Ashan

In the US, we have Costco, Super Walmarts, Targets, and BJ's. Here, there's a French-operated hypermarket called Ashan. It is massive and everything is cheap. I've been to Texas a couple of times and I thought I knew what big was. I didn't know what big was until I went to Ashan.

Globalization, I think you are winning.

The art of nudity

If you ever come to Russia, you MUST go to a Russian banya. Sure, a sauna feels great in the middle of winter, but to get the full experience, you MUST go to a RUSSIAN banya. And if you're like me, a more or less conservative Asian-American girl, the minute you walk into the locker room, you will stand there in shock. Not the “deer-caught-in-the-headlights” kind of shock, but the “I just got stunned by a high-voltage taser” kind of shock.

Everyone is naked. Naked naked naked. I went to a private sauna when I was teaching at the language camp, but everyone wore a bathing suit. I went to a public banya and everyone was naked. I wish you all could have seen my face because I am sure it was nothing but priceless. Thank goodness my friend, another foreigner, was there to bring me back to life. No one pays attention to each other and it ended up being very comfortable for me. There is also an array of body types. I realize now that public banyas are safe from peeping toms and other perverts. No one wants to see that.

From the locker room, you go to the shower room. It's another scary room. Just think of the private things you do in the shower (when you're alone, of course). Now take away the walls. And add a lot of people. Yeah...you're better off not looking at what people are doing.

From the giant, scary shower room, you go to the sauna part. The room that is hot as hell. As soon as you go inside, you hear women beating themselves or each other with vennigs, branches of dried leaves (typically oak). It is said to increase circulation and prevent cellulite. I find that it takes too much energy to use the vennigs when you can barely breathe.

I feel at peace even when I'm in a bus full of people because I don't have to talk to anyone and I can just use the time to think. I feel relaxed and alone even in a public banya full of naked, old women because people keep to themselves. Now, I go to a banya once a week.

The following are pictures from a private room in a public banya:

Place to relax and drink tea/beer/water.

Where you go nude.

The actual sauna part. It's hot.