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    Glod, glorious glod.  Multiply this by ten and you have my walk, or rather swim, to and from school every morning.  Moldovans trek ahead as if this is nothing, while I lag behind, struggling not to fall - which I have only done once thus far.  But even though my track record of staying on my feet is (mostly) clean, my lower body is not.  I managed to arrive to school with flecks of mud all over the place, while, again, Moldovans (and their high heels) stay effortlessly clean.



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