Since I wrote this I’ve had a thoroughly interesting introduction to Russia. And as usually turns out with everyplace I visit…I love it here…

After a day at the historic version of the Koochiching County Fair—which I’ve always loved so that is not intended as a snide aside—it’s off to St. Petersburg. End of Week 3. Only 17 minutes until this train will leave the station so I’m hoping for another overnight without a roomy. And we’re off.

I will post this in the morning from my room in what I’m told is the rather luxurious Hotel Petro Palace. Probably not quite up to Oligarch standards so will have to get my candid shots of the boys elsewhere.

Today was lovely in a pokey nostalgic way. The park, a smaller version of Skanson in Stockholm, is in the country among the villages and hay fields and includes replicas of log structures of old plus an authentic wheat-grinding windmill AND best of all lots of farm vegetables and sheep and birds and horses and crocheted things and bag pipers playing tunes from the middle ages and demonstrations of moonshine making and horseshoeing and local delicacies like my new favorite of heavy brown bread with honey and sour pickles with a shot of moonshine on the side. And then a small meal of cold beet soup and potato pancakes with sour cream for all. Northern Europe is definitely my happy place for food. Some sour cream raisin bars would be the frosting on the cake—so to speak.

Although the train free ‘dinner’ may prove to be the exception. Just a more generous amount of the stuff Southwest feeds you between Albuquerque and Phoenix. Crackers, nuts and orange juice. Oh wait, several packages of luncheon meat. I can exist for days on this. Wonder if I can trade the summer sausage for potato pancakes at a stop somewhere.

The attendant just indicated there will be another person in this compartment at some time. Life is not perfect after all. But good unless the person is loud and smelly.

I liked Minsk. And the countryside is so pleasantly normal. The smaller farm houses in the villages are being restored as summer cottages and soon there will be suburbs eating the hay fields. Going to try to sleep early now.

O dear, what can the matter be?
Dear, dear, what can the matter be?
O dear, what can the matter be?
Johnny’s so long at the fair.

He promised he’d buy me a fairing should please me,
And then for a kiss, oh! he vowed he would tease me,
He promised he’d bring me a bunch of blue ribbons,
To tie up my bonny brown hair.

Johnny’s So Long at the Fair running through my head all day.

Today’s Album:  First some cars for you Steven.

Now some country stuff for you R & M in the North Woods.

AND finally for the California Foodies in the Family.

Best of all churches and birds.

ANYONE NEED A BABY?

Saved the Best for Last…What Else…VEGETABLES!