travel
Subir un millón de escaleras bajo el sol para ver siete letras gigantes en una colina es la última ocurrencia de mis humanos, pero al menos la ruta nos regaló un escondite salvaje a la orilla del rÃo.
My humans are finally developing a decent instinct for finding shady corners, even if they keep nodding like dashboard bobbleheads when people speak to them in a language they don't understand.
The Kazakh military escorted us like diplomats, but the Russian welcome included an interrogation that nearly made me confess where I hide my sweets.
My patience as a shopkeeper has its limits, and that limit is measured by the smell of meat-filled pastry while I’m stuck watching the patio.
My eyes have returned to normal thanks to Kazakh dairy medicine, and we've swapped river mosquitoes for a forest, complete with a human picnic.
A horde of mutant Kazakh mosquitoes tried to devour my eyes, but my humans saved me using the high-tech solution of a cold bag of smetana.
The cowboys of the steppe have swapped their horses for two wheels, and I have discovered that a forest is the best shield in the world when nature decides to blow a gale.
We walked for hours through Karaganda and I found out that in this city, cosmonauts used to celebrate their space missions by taking bubble baths.
The humans left me locked up guarding our palace on wheels while they went off to get themselves into an old Russian prison, proving once again that their ideas of sightseeing are most peculiar.