Good News! We Reached Blagoveshchensk 05/17/2009
 After giving myself a day to recover in Birobidzhan, we set the "hogs" loose on the road again on the 9th of May, Russian Victory Day. The Russians for some reason or another celebrate the end of WWII a day later than everyone else, I have been given several likely reasons, one because the Soviet troops arrived a day later in Berlin, two because the time difference between Berlin and Moscow, or three the one I made up myself, that Russia just didn't want to follow everyone else and decided to be different. Whatever the reason, Birobidzhan was all glitzed up for the event and we walked around a bit killing time before we got out on the open road. We even met with some veterans of WWII who were very pleased to take some pictures with us and even saluted us and wished us well on our trip (something about them saluting us that seemed quite backwards considering). And So began our push to Blagoveshchensk, it took us 6 days, 2 more than we initially thought, mostly because we had made the foolish assumption that there would be mostly asphalt between Biro and Blago, or at least as much as there was between Vladivostok and Khabarovsk. Each day we faced a new 20-40 kilometer section, thank god we had bought new thick tires in Khabarovsk, otherwise I can't imagine how difficult it would have been. I am in the process of developing a new term in cycling (at least I have never encountered it), for years we cyclists have dreaded "soft sand" basically when beach sand works it's way on to the trail, slowing you down quickly and making steering quite difficult. Here on the gravel roads of Russia we have "soft stone" sections of the road where the hard packed rock gives way to rivers of tiny stones that quickly swallow your momentum and your tire, if you are not careful you will find yourself very quickly on the side of the road in a sea of frustration throwing said soft stone into the air just so that you can yell at it at eye level! It is incredibly frustrating because there is a lot of work going on on these road, big trucks owned by paving companies go up and down all day long shooting rocks and dust at you which you are supposed to dodge like some sort sadistic videogame. Then when you reach the section being paved (comically called "road work")it is one of two things, about 50 guys sweeping the dirt off the road while another 10 guys look on smoking cigarettes, with no asphalt or tools of any kind. Or you come upon my favorite, about 4 guys, two standing around a fire (perhaps they are the reason half of this country appears to be on fire at any given time) and one operating a steamroller, the other operating a bulldozer, replicating the same movements a 4 year old does with his tonka trucks, move this pile of sand with the bulldozer then pretend it is asphalt and roll over it with the steamroller. Genius.  That said though, the terrain is getting interesting, mountains are more common, we climb high into the birch forests for whole days and then descend onto the windy plains for days battling the headwind. Towns are less common and stranger, sometimes you go in and it is a complete loss, you have to go 2 k off the main road, everyone is drunk and there is nothing to really eat, other times it is almost a magical experience as you meet wonderful people who help you or take care of you and there is a plentiful store or a very nice cafe. The weather is following a similar unpredictable pattern, sometimes you still pass blocks of melting snow, even as the weather is about 85 degrees, and yet the very next day you are looking at blooming lilacs as you face horrible wind and are freezing all day long bundled up in most of your clothing.
We were on a mission to get to Blago, we rode with little distraction, granted not very fast, I was still recovering, but we were riding consistently everyday, by the sixth day we were ready for Blago, and immediately upon entering the city we knew it was going to be a good off town, as we call our rest cities. We met up with Olga, who showed us to the dormitory room we would be occupying, although in all fairness I should call it a Dorm Suite, it was a beautiful thing for two weary travellers, seeing a room for each of us and a kitchen to make our obnoxiously large pasta meals. "Now boys tomorrow we have talk at the University for you, and unfortunately we have to meet with TV, the wanted to meet you today, but I said NO! they will do everything tomorrow."
A queen!! she condensed all the talking into one day, in Khabarovsk everyday we had a different event to go to, here we just had one day, we wanted to hire her as our agent and translator right away. She then proceeded to tell us a bit about the history of Blagoveshchensk, how the name meant Good News (you're telling us!! and you didn't even ride into it!"). It was founded after the Russians acquired the territory from the Chinese in a treaty during the 1800's. It sits just across the Amur River from China, you can stroll along the river and probably throw stones (i still have a few stuck in my teeth luckily) at China and yell at them for polluting the Amur so badly that it acts more effectively as a border deterent than a 30 foot wall with armed guards (don't get any ideas border states).
The next day as promised we did the television interviews, which are all shockingly similar, they ask the same questions, make us pack up the bikes and ride them around a parking lot (this one was scarily filled with used needles). Then usually they try and get some exclusive footage, this time they wanted us to pretend to cook in our kitchen, jokingly we tossed a bunch of bagged fruit and bread into a pot and covered it. "Oh wait," I declared "we forgot the salt" we grabbed the whole bag and tossed it in, proudly proclaiming "Borsch Americanski!!!" They loved it and needless to say that night we saw us playing cooks on about 3 TV channels, what is this country coming to? (they have also adapted translated in it's entirety "Married With Children", new cast same exact episodes and jokes, so that a person like myself who hasn't seen an episode in 10 years can say oh my god I still know that the Russian Al is about to put his hand down his pants!)  Then after play hour with the television crews (we often take photos and video them as they are taping us). We headed to talk at the Amur State University, it was a lot like the talks we have given at the American Corners before this, we talk for a while, everyone is obsessed and in hysterics about our encounter with Stas (see a previous blog "to hail with it")and eventually someone asks whether we like Russian girls, we say of course, everyone laughs and that is usually about the last question of the session. We had one more treat though in store for "media day". I gues I ha misunderstood Olga when she said there was another TV thing to do, I for some reason thought it was a school based show where we would talk with students. Next thing I know we are in a television station in the middle of the city. Thankfully, it is hard to take anything seriously when you hand everyone you meet a card that says "The Idiots" right on it, because I suddenly found myself sitting on one of those stages they read the 5 o clock news at in my rain pants and a pirate shellfish t-shirt (obvious sponsor plug) that hadn't been washed in weeks wondering if I should brush off the cookie crumbs. Luckily I was suddenly besieged by a babushka who put a smock around my shirt and began doing my MAKEUP!!! Watching 2 guys who are pathetically trying to grow peach fuzz beards, in stained t-shirts being fussed over by a Russian Babushka was quite a sight, luckily Olga snapped some pictures.  Things got even better for us here in Blagoveshchensk, we spent saturday helping a teacher with her research for her PHD, which is dealing with American phonetics. She needed us to gather Data, which I can only say must be ridiculously difficult, Blagoveshchensk does not attract a lot of American tourists, let alone those that stay long enough for Svetlana to track down, apparently she hadn't had any new data in years, we were glad to help, plus we just got to banter on into a microphone about our pet peeves, Russian roads and Russian internet. But the really good news was that the next day we would be going to the public banya here in Blagoveshchensk.
Now we have been to a couple of banyas before, and it has been great, a couple of guys going in for a good hot steam and hanging out, very relaxing and very clean and nice. But nothing beats a public banya, it's where you see the professional banya men, walking in with their duffle bags, stripping down to nothing and pulling out their "banya kits" in little plastic bags, the wool banya hat in a shape that hasn't changed probably since they were created, sandles made of reeds to keep your feet out of the biological disaster that is the water on the floor, and big wool oven mitts to keep your hands cool as you beat yourself or a friend with your home made bundle of birch twigs. It is just a different scene.
We went with Kolya and his son Jena, as we walked in I immediately taken back to St. Petersburg, the last place I went to a public Russian banya and the last time i smelled that pungent mix of chlorine and BO. However unlike the last time I went, where the banya was poorly lit, with men slugging down vodka and pickles in every corner between sessions of scalding themselves in the banya and rolling around in the snow, it was mid afternoon on a sunday, it was family time. I though it was strange for Kolya to bring his son to a place that I so readily associated with binge drinking, but it was mostly just fathers and sons enjoying a good wholesome time of scalding your skin and beating the crap out of each other with dried leaves, running out and jumping into a really cold pool and running back into the scalding heat all while being completely naked, sounds like father son bonding to me.
The Banya itself was certianly the grossest/best one we have been to yet, most of the private banyas don't have the skin itching heat that 2 guys who have ridden 1000 miles and just crossed their first time zone want and deserve, but the public banya with itsa industrial strength heaters gets you shedding layers (of skin) fast. After my first round out, I was stumbling out when Kolya poinbted out the very cold pool (I wasn't quite ready for that) and the warm pool, which was like a big swimming pool. I wandered over to the warm pool, seeing so many people in it I assumed it was the place to be, at first I thought my eyes were decieving me, but as I got closer I knew it was no joke the water was nice murky brown, perhaps they just divert some of the Amur into a swimming pool. From then on it was the shower for me, probably not any better but at least it looked clear. Actually later a guy made me do the traditional get incredibly hot (you turn red) by beating yourself with birch twigs, then run and jump into the cold pool and ten run in and beat yourself some more. The sensation I think is probably similar to an out of shape guy running at a dead sprint for a half mile, your heart is thumping out of your chest, I guess that is how the Russians get their kicks, by simulating heart attacks.
There probably won't be much heard from us for the next few weeks, as we are heading out to the remote section of our trip (according to the map, NOW we hit the offroad) so you'll just have to entertain yourself with videos and photos from this section of which I successfully uploaded many of for your viewing pleasure. In about 3 weeks you'll get inundated with a ton more blogs and photos, and we will be nearing Lake Baikal.
ellski Add Comment A Day In The Life Of Ellery Althaus 05/17/2009
 The cheap Russian cellphone blasts it's horribly cheesy alarm ring at 6:15. I shut it off and turn over, the alarm isn't for me, it is for "slow man" Levi (in no way a reflection of Levi's riding speed). A woman who was helping us back in Ussiriysk coined the phrase, while she and I waited for Levi to do something. The name has stuck, Levi is meticulous in his daily packing and I am just toss it anywhere and lets get on the bike in mine, he now gets up 20 minutes before I do, so that we are both ready at about the same time. He putts around for a while as I roll over and try and decide how sore my legs are today, sometimes they hardly stretch out and I know it will be a rough day or sometimes they are springy and ready to slaughter some K. I get up as soon as I see Levi nearing the food bag. The road dictates everything in our lives now, we are lucky, this morning it will be a cheap roadside hotel with a cafe where we can get hot food in the morning, sometimes it is just a hotel and we are creating our own concotions with the ever-present water boiler in every Russian room. This morning it is a wild one, we are making a double portion of instant noodles with frozen vegetables, an unbeatable classic. Ever since I got sick there has been a waryness towards anything we haven't made ourselves, and considering we are to avoid the woods at all costs until our vaccine kicks in (ironically the vaccine makes you more susceptible to the disease in the first two weeks, before making you immune) and we are trying to conserve our camp stove fuel, we are stuck in Limbo until Blagoveshchensk. So we eat our Ramen silently or again if we are lucky while watching Russian music videos, which I can only imagine to be the most risque on earth. We stretch, fill up on water, and usually can find one or two more completly meaningless things to slow us down before getting on the bikes between 8-10, I can hear Mark Jenkins and any other serious cyclists wince at those numbers, but it is where we are right now, we are hoping to improve  The first ten minutes on a fully loaded bike, at least for me, are the toughest the soreness is slowly breaking off your body, and your arms are readjusting to steering your "hog". In our case it is also usually the period where one surveys the situation (we of course rarely have any idea as to what the weather is going to be...Idiots) "how is the wind?", "Am I cold? should I shed a layer or put on my jacket" "Is that little pain in my knee going to be here all day or is it just a passing tingle?" "What is that thing on the back of Levi's shirt?" and of course the most popular one "What am I doing out here, where the hell am I?" which is usually followed quickly by "how long until the next cookie break?". It is then an hour and a half of the road, sometimes it is really easy, a calm cool morning on the open flats of Russia can be a real treat, watching the marshland fly by(I use the term loosely). A few small mountains or hills can't hurt either, they warm you up and speed the transformation from sore muscles to numb ones.
But this is not the way it has been lately, instead it has been one of two things, or the two combined. Usually we climb that first hill or turn that first corner and there it is, offroad. From Khabarovsk to Blagoveshchensk there has been one overwhelming sensation, the sense of being jostled to exhaustion by 20-30-40 k of offroad a day, now I know it doesn't sound good from two guys about to do 800 k of offroad, but keep in mind that is one solid section, which we have been told about. There is little more frustrating than planning out your day and turning the corner to hit a massive section of offroad (it is amazing how slow one goes offroad on a road bike). Of course there is one thing that does really get us even worse than our friend the offroad, our pal the wind (both of these daily features of our lives have been personified by us, they are cousins and they love to cause us frustration, the wind has a very high pitched whiny voice and the offroad has a rather gravely voice).
"Hello!!! ah it is my American friends, you have come back again?!!? Okay let's play!!! Perhaps you want head wind?!?And just when you get used to it I will switch to side wind and blow you right off the side of the road hahahaha silly Americans? Still want to come all the way to Porto?? Have you heard what I do on the Plains?"
"Hey fellas, I bet you thought the wind was bad, heheehe, check out what I can do with these big tennisball size rocks, I can actually fling them at you when trucks pass by. Oh whats that a little dust in your eye?? here let me help you I can put some in your lungs instead if you prefer. Have you tried my soft sand? It is particularly good here around China. Oh boy guys I am so excited to see you all the way to Chita, we are going to have some special times on MY 800k, hope you aren't planning on bringing those bikes with you..."
That is just a small insight into the mild daily insanity that goes on when 2 guys are bicycling and high on endorphins and sugar all day.  After the first hour and a half comes the first cookie break, Russia has a couple of glaring flaws one of which is it's obsession with cookies, the local stores contain almost entirely just cookies. I think the problem is really that everyone in these small villages grows there own food and is mostly self sufficient, therefore the stores contain mostly booze and 50-60 different varieties of cookies, oatmeal, jam filled, chocolate dipped, white chocolate dipped, chocolate covered marshmellow graham crackery ones. Riding all morning and walking into one of these stores can be habit forming, we now consume at least one package of cookies a day, often two, and I wouldn't say a third would be out of the question. The first break is my favorite, right around noon, you are really starting to warm up and feel good, you eat a few cookies, pound down some water, this is the first break in the usual morning silence, not that we don't speak earlier, but it isn't the giddy, silly I've been bicycling for hours kind of banter that often leads to tears streaming down ones face because you are laughing so hard. Another hour and a half goes by, now you are on automatic hopefully, unless the conditions are really bad (not really that uncommon). The second stop might be at a convenience store or it might be at a cafe, or perhaps just a shady spot on the side of the road (our new favorite is bus stops, which here, even in the middle of nowhere are little shacks which are great for breaking the winds and a good spot for shade) . It is usually the second stop where the delays start, maybe it is that extra bliny at the end of lunch, or we meet someone who wants to talk, one time we were simply surrounded by drunks who insisted on getting our autographs, then they insisted on giving us there autographs, we only managed to escape this cycle when one of them came out of the village shop with a shocking revelation, "You can buy rubbing alcohol in here for only 40 rubles!!!" "can you drink that?" someone asked. A quick debate ensued, which was ended by the eldest drunk taking the rubbing alcohol and pouring some of it into his half gone 2 liter of beer. They all tasted the new drink and nodded in approval. Problem solved, just dilute it, they completly forgot about us and proceeded to buy the store out of rubbing alcohol then and there, lest someone else in the town get a cut overnight.  Eventually you get going again, after a few more rounds of cookie breaks and mid afternoon doldrums, where the body begins to tire of spinning pedals, that is when things get really bad, we start getting out of control. Jokes start flying back and forth, we start screaming and yelling, distorting songs, yelling about how out of control it is, one of our favorite things to do is mimic the people who stop inevitably every few hours to ask us where are we from, where are we going and where did we start. Unfortunately for the Russian language, these three things are almost impossible to differentiate, where are you from is "otkuda??" where are you going is "Kuda" and where did you start is "Otkuda". Brilliant. Every few minutes someone slows down and starts yelling "kuda!!!!!" or "Otkuda!!!!" in a very demanding way, to which at first we used to try and figure out which of the three they were saying, but after being yelled at about fifty times without any result (they yell it like a military sargent would a command not a question "OTKUDA!!!") now we just reply either Vladivostok, America, or Portugalia, so somewhere out there there are many Russians who think two guys from Portugal are riding from America to Vladivostok or vice versa. Eventually comes the homeward stretch, it is getting late even here maybe 8 or 9 (the sun goes down around 930 now) and your legs begin to resemble jello as they flop up and down on the pedals. Perhaps we are riding to a town big enough for a hotel, or perhaps and more likely it is a small town where we hope to be allowed to camp behind the local cafe, or maybe just a dot on the map that we deem far enough for the day. It is all dictated by the road, and our pals offroad and windy. Sometimes you find yourself stuck on a bluff eating potato chip sandwiches as the sun goes down, othertimes over eating and wowing the cooks in the local cafe before you pull your sleeping bag out and curl up under the table for the night. The only thing that is for certain is that, that first moment is the sweetest, you've ditched your bike shorts pulled out the pajamas (i.e. one of two pairs of underwear you have) and stretched out your toes under the covers or in the sleeping bag. It is heaven, showered or not. You only wish you hadn't ridden till 9 and it wasn't eleven, only 7 hours of this bliss... perhaps we'll sleep til 8. ellski  Sadly they probably think we are Portuguese and riding to America!The 800km Curse Strikes Again!!!! 05/17/2009
 Levi and I walked across Spain about 2 years ago, we walked 800 km on the final day we proceeded to get incredibly bad food poisoning, crippling us for weeks, then 6 months later I traveled to Mexico City to visit Levi, we went on about an 800 km bus trip to southern Mexico, I got a horrible sunburn, Levi got sun poisoning because we were to cheap to get sunblock. Therefore the following story should come as no surprise since our odometer read 800km as of Khabarovsk... You could almost say we overstayed our welcome in Khabarovsk, we were there so long, we did talks, interviews, and sightseeing. We were in no real hurry to get back on the road, we wanted time to ourselves and it took about 4 days before people left us alone. We wound up staying 5 days, "hey we are weeks ahead of schedule, even if we leave here May 1 that was when we were supposed to leave Vladivostok," Lesson # 5 When you are ahead of the game don't dawdle, you never know what might be around the next bend. We also had to get the second half of a vaccine for the extremely rare but dangerous Japanese Encephalitis. Everywhere we went doctors refused to give it to us, "Oh they want that shot? We only give that out until mid April, it is illegal to give it out now, I'm not taking responsibility for that!!" Apparently the second shot weakens your immune system so much that it is extremely dangerous to get bitten by one of the ticks for two weeks after you get it, that's why they only give it out before mid april, when there are no ticks. Also if you encounter anything else, your immune system is weak, so even a cold can become an issue...enter the Idiots. We were just debating the merits of the shot between ourselves when the interpreter said "the shot is ready boys" No turning back now. The doctor asked us if we felt okay had any illnesses or anything we both replied no (why would I have even thought that a mildly upset stomach might count, you almost always have an upset stomach in Russia). A day later we got back out on the open road, crossing into the Jewish Autonomous Region of Russia. Felt great... for a while. Sometime after lunch things started to get rough for me, I let Levi go ahead of me and slowly watched him ride off into the distance as I struggled to push the pedals. Not good. Finally we agreed to quit early for the day, I hoped to feel stronger the next day. We stopped in the small town and asked about a place to spend the night, they directed us to the railway station, which was a huge empty but very clean and fancy Soviet railway station complete with a huge mosaic of workers. The attendant said we could pitch our tents right on the floor, in any other situation it would have been heaven, for me at the time I just needed a place to lie down. My stomach had begun to bother me too, I had an ominous feeling, even more so when I looked at the train station outhouse, "will I be spending a lot of time here?" I wondered. I managed to guarantee myself a multi-trip ticket to the outhouse that night by following a little peace of Russian advice I had received. "If your stomach is ever upset, drink Kefir" Kefir is a weird dairy drink here in Russia, which we have discovered is good with cereal. I went for it and paid for it. Lesson # 6 Not all advice is good advice. I won't go into detail, let us just say that it was an unpleasant night for me. In the morning we took the train back to Khabarovsk, checked into a hotel to rest hoping that would produce a cure. We spent 2 days there. Lesson #7 Never leave a city just "feeling a little better" go to a doctor get cured. We tried riding again, after taking the train back to the small village where I had spent such a unpleasant night ( I shuddered at the sight of the outhouse again). Once again I watched Levi ride off into the sunset while I could barely move the pedals, we did however make it to the Capital of the Jewish Autonomous Region, Birobidzhan that night. Birobidzhan if my memory serves me right at the height of the Jewish Autonomous Regions Jewishness was about 30% Jewish, after the Soviet Union Collapsed most left for Israel, or the west and now the number is much lower. There is still some Hebrew to be seen, and when we stopped our bicycles outside the main square we did meet a nice elderly Jewish man who seemed very excited about the bicycle trip (at the time, quite a bit more so than myself). But for the most part there are few differences between here and any other small Russian city, same buildings, same cafes, same buses, although there are nice little touches here and there, pictures of dradles on the bus stops, and many statues where they have substituted the Red Star, with the Star of David. We ourselves immediately headed to the hospital to get a diagnosis. We got there just as they closed, but because we were Americans they agreed to see us, a doctor in sandals did some mild questioning and stomach prodding and gave me a recommendation not a prescription and advice rather than instructions, I think he recommended the pill equivalent of pepto-bismo, and walked away thinking that Americans couldn't handle Russian Blini. We gave it a try, and I felt rather better the next day, so I ate a big meal in preparation for a big riding day, of course that once again ended badly. Finally on the third day armed with a translator we headed back to the hospital. Now let me say a word about these hospitals, I once went to a hospital in St. Petersburg on the outskirts of the city that was in the middle of an industrial complex and appeared to be about half of a dilapidated apartment complex, you walked up a few sketchy flights of stairs into a dark hallway, it was very scary, I never want to go back to a place like that again. This hospital and most we have seen in these small cities and towns are right downtown, and are clean, on the inside they resemble real hospitals, so fear not. We walked in and again were directed to the sandaled-doctor, who just as casually as before asked some questions, and proceeded to tell the translator ( a very nice English teacher named Svetlana, who was directed to us by the American Consulate in Vladivostok, who I think is spying on us, otherwise I can't imagine how they found out I was ill so quickly) "If he is still sick there is nothing i can do, you must take him to the Infectious Disease Hospital" Now in times like these with people talking crazy about some Pig-Flu that I should be afraid of, I would normally be a bit wary of going to an Infectious disease hospital, but considering I have been having intense stomach trouble for 6 days and I was in Russia, I said "let's take a taxi it will get us there faster!" And so we hoped into a cab. It is a small town more than a city so we could only go so far, we cruised down the main avenue, and promptly took a right, and just like that we were out of the small town and into something that once again resembled an industrial complex, I got that chill in my stomach as the road became more and more bumpy. For a few seconds before we entered the "hospital" grounds we actually left asphalt. We stopped in front of a building that did not look like a dilapidated apartment building but much more like an abandoned factory, in fact I think it even had a working smoke stack (if not that smoke stack was coming from a unnecessarily close factory). Luckily I had been storing up courage for a moment such as this on the trip and didn't even pee my pants as we headed in to the main entrance. Luckily for us, the main entrance (which doubled as an elevator shaft), wasn't our entrance, the infectious disease entrance was on the side of the building behind a big steel door. We went in, it was dark, a big babushka greeted us suspiciously (what have these guys brought from America?!?) She ushered me into a room, told the translator she could come and told Levi to wait outside. "That might have been the worst I've ever seen," Levi said of his five minutes in the hospital. Now it was me, the nurses, and the translator. The room could have been placed in a movie any time in the last 100 or if you subtracted the toilet 200 years and it would have fit perfectly, I wondered from which era my treatment might come. After a few minutes of nurses poking in and out, the Svetlana said "I think they are afraid of you, they don't get many foreigners." THEY ARE AFRAID OF ME?!??!?!?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm not sure if that is a good or bad sign. I won't go through the whole examination, no one wants that, the most difficult thing was that for much of the time Svetlana was not in the room, so I was rather at the mercy of the big babushka, never really sure what was going to happen next or what they were going to use that instrument for. One thing that Svetlana was able to translate was that they wanted me to stay in the hospital for the next 5 days, because they felt that I would be unable to follow the dietary guidelines they were going to give me in the hotel. I looked around the room, with its, for some reason, 7 chamber pots, shabby curtains hiding the smokestack, the towel with a small bloodstain on the corner of it, the jolly giant babushka smiling at me, and said flat out "no, i'll follow the plan at hotel, trust me" They sealed the deal by telling me that it would also cost 1200 roubles a night, like 40 dollars, after what that Babushka had just done to me I would have paid twice that just to get out of there and never see her again. In the end though I got a prescription for antibiotics, a diet to follow, some other pills. It cost me nothing, they felt it was "their international duty". They were very nice and very helpful, things have improved in my stomach department, the antibiotics are helping and tomorrow hopefully we ride. ellski Okay Who was it? Did you betray me Borscht? Certainly not you Russian salad? Even with that beautiful pickle flower? You look awfully suspicious macaroni! |
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