Tried best to stay alive.
Location: Moscow, Russia.
Date: A very cold month.
We were offered free shuttle from the hotel. All we had to do was check the schedule and the shuttle stops. Guess what? We still got on the wrong bus. The plan was to see the Red Square and the snow capped St. Basil’s. Ended up freezing our asses in a Sunday market across a knee-deep snow.
My warm, cozy bed.
Not so warm outside at -28 degrees celcius..
My four layers of clothings. Two more layers to go.
A little walk around the hotel while waiting for the shuttle bus.
During the bus ride. The world was on a standstill amidst these loads of snow. The whole city was hushed under an endless white blanket.
When we believed we have arrived at the right destination.
Looked like fun with all the crunchy sounds in every step. It was…for about twenty seconds. Afterwards, even my mind was trying to separate from my body to find a warmer place.
Too late to find out that there was no Red Square in this area. We found ourselves in a weekend market littered with Russian furs and Matryoshka dolls of every sizes and colors.
Goods at the Izmailovsky market.
Ten minutes later, we were rushing to get inside a coffee house for shelter. We could no longer feel our faces, fingers were as cold as popsicles and our toes were stuck together inside our shoes.
Just imagine how these animals were feeling. I wonder how much cold can these poor creatures withstand?
As for the humans, there were a few standing by this roadside, braving the harsh wind, protected only with minimum coats and hoping to sell some fridge magnets and post cards for less than a dollar a piece. Life is tough everywhere.
Waiting for the shuttle bus that seemed like forever.
The darlings of Moscow. The few lucky ones who probably wait for winter every single year to get the opportunity to don the most precious objects in their cabinets—their expensive fur coats. I heard of horror stories from a colleague about women who were too happy to have saved their furs during a fire that they forgot about their children still stuck inside the house.
Another Catholic church.
Finally, our ride home had arrived.
A sight of a factory smoke had never felt this comforting.
Back to the road again.