I did my share of trekking my little fanny all over kingdom come on Monday. First, a looonnng walk (1 hour looping the neighborhood because the snow is melting and the weather is beautiful and Ryder had computer club) with Mase and Halle in the stroller. Mason took a nap, thankfully, and Halle was perfectly content, drinking her bottle and people watching. Oh, and we listened to Sara Bareilles the whole way.
Then, I got to go here again. So so beautiful. If you're confused about the size, just look at the person walking out the door. That should give you an idea of how huge it is. When I went inside they were having church and it was beautiful and the chanting/singing was amazing but my head wasn't covered and I didn't have a scarf or a hood etc etc etc so we weren't in there for very long. But I was looking around at everyone holding candles, crossing themselves reverently, kneeling on the floor, and bowing their heads to touch the ground and I knew that Heavenly Father heard their prayers. Every single one of them.
Red Square is beautiful and desolate at night. And honestly, it really is impossible to pose in front of St. Basil's. So awkward. She'll outshine you every time. I was the queen of the metro on this trip. I should win an award. After this I ate my first Big Mac (meh), and took the long way home from the metro station (walking) (ugh) (not my fault we had to walk) and I was so beyond being upset about it that I just put my head down and power-walked the entire way. I was with LaRee's twin boy cousins who are in the Army so I wasn't too scared. The vanilla soft serve at Mickey D's here is beyond the taste of anything I have ever tasted on this earth. Oh. I wish you could taste it. And I don't even like vanilla ice cream. It's THAT good.
If you want some delicious produce and nice Russians, you have to go here. It's a secret market underneath this shopping mall that is about a 20 minute walk from our house. Just be aware that you might see an entire cow or pig on a table being chopped to bits. Not a pretty sound, folks.
If you're looking for proof that I have been in Russia just look at this face. I'm three shades paler, and my eyebrows and hair are overgrown and out of control because I refuse to let anyone in this country touch them. They would make my brows too skinny and I am 100% certain they would give me an orange mullet.
P.S. Tomorrow I turn 19 and a half, and my not-so-little brother who actually does have a mullet turns 17. Ohhh, I can't believe it! Just think...in just about 2 years we will both be leaving on our missions. WEIRD!
P.P.S. I had fake Cafe Rio at our Relief Society luncheon today, and I'm pretty sure it tasted better than real Cafe Rio. Or maybe I have been away too long. The first thing I am going to do when I get back to America is make a key lime pie. Unrelated...but whatever.