Sunday, November 4, 2012

The Burnt Muffin

The weather wasn’t all favourable in Arkhangelsk. One day has been quite lousy in fact. The afternoon was nearly ending and my friend’s wife wanted to eat a muffin in an uptown coffee shop. Top prices, top view, top coffee - and this muffin.

During childhood I’ve read a book which played in old times and the cook ran into mischief as soot and a dead bat landed in the fricassee. The host misunderstood the cook and had the black disaster presented to his guests as a foreign, excellent dish - and everyone was enjoying the meal, chattering about how wonderful this meal has been.

Chattering were also the three young women, who run the coffee shop. They were eager to serve and also understood our haltering Russian. The coffee was superb and the view was excellent. We were enjoying ourselves. And a little later the muffin was served. I had a burnt smell in the nose. But my friend’s wife merrily ate parts of the muffin. Then at the core the muffin was burnt! But she said, she enjoyed it up to now. My friend finished some more of it, which astonished me. Usually he would have complained, but he enjoyed the afternoon in the coffee shop and the three young women so much, that he didn’t want to disturb the good vibes by complaining about a little burnt muffin.

Related links for this travel:

Love locks from the Black to the White Sea

Antoniyevo-Siysky Monastery (Антониево-Сийский монастырь)  

On changing Moldovan Lei in Odessa

The Very Basic Guide to Russian  

Crime and Punishment (St. Petersburg)  

Hram Ilias – the hidden silence near the Red Place in Moscow  

Kishinev – the prologue of this year’s travels  

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