Vacationland, why hast thou forsaken me?

It snowed a lot more today. Those of you who thought I was clever for choosing Crimea for its beaches now know how far into the future I can see. I can't remember the last time it was this cold in New York.

The trudge home over the train tracks from the overcrowded marshrutka almost made it worth it, though. Made me feel like I was in a Tolstoy novel, somehow. A marginal character, perhaps.




Observation of the day: children don't make snowmen here, they make very large snowballs.