As you get out and explore, the area shrinks until finally, the big adventure you had during your first few days becomes a habitual path you can walk (or drive) without even thinking about it.
There are several parts of the path that would be treacherous if icy (if the temps drop, there will definitely be ice) or muddy (when the snow begins to melt in earnest, as it will if temps continue to hover around freezing), but for now, it was beautiful and easy.
It amazes me how many people are always outside here, walking, enjoying the day or getting from place to place. As I walked a path well trodden, I tried to imagine who had walked that same path before me (and where were they heading?).
There are grandmas and moms, businessmen and well-dressed women, old men, and everyone in between. It is fun to try to imagine each person's story. The fur hats and coats still make me smile, as do the babies in prams, bundled up so thickly that they look like cocoons of blankets. The packs of teenage boys smoking with one hand in their pocket and a leer on their faces make me remember the babushkas of Russia, shaking their heads and muttering, "Hooligans" under their breath, as if it were a dirty word.
I love walking through a place that is at once so strange and so normal. It's just winter in a town half a world from where I grew up, but even though everything is different, really, underneath the clothes and language and snow, everything is pretty much the same. And I can't wait to get to know it all better.
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