We endured an arduous direct flight from Chicago, during which we were fed and watered at regular intervals and even able to watch Mick Jagger shake his thang on the the monitor in the seatbacks in front of us, and which arrived on time in Moscow-Domodedovo. After passing through customs, we were accosted by a band of rogues, who happened to be
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B says thank you and that she'll eat a cookie for you!
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Oh, and I wanted to ask about the cookies. Which Russian cookies are you talking about here? Because other than pryaniki, I don't think of Russia as a land of good cookies. Russia is the land of pies!
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