To market, to market, for dry goods, milk and soy milk. Home again,home again, as that wwas logically the next place to head to.
Walking everywherein the heat here can leave one a bit ripe at times. All the locals have cars, of course, but there's no local bus service to speak of, and even walking alongside the roads is a bit dicey at times. I suspect I'll be remembered in this town, if at all, as the slightly ripe large American fellow of slavic ancestry who was always porting rucksacks of food and such. But the views are quite spectacular, even going up the four mile hill with the ruck filled with soy milk and such.
Much of the last decade has been about accomplishing the necessary work with as much grace as possible, and without the usual bare minimum. And that's roughly the hierarchy of those needs/ambitions, as well. If material prosperity ever does come, and I say this as someone with a first-tier US law degree, it will likely be the result of something I've managed to do, not the general industrial prosperity of the race or my social situation.