Out of place

I just returned from a visit to Russia. And even though I understand the language, and speak enough to get around, I felt very out of place.
Since it was seven years ago I've been there, I cann't realy say if it was worse than the last time. But I do know something, I feel strange in a place where nobody speaks English, and you cann't find an English paper to save your life. That should say something about me to.
But what?
I have already accepted that I do not quite fit in my country. I do not want anyway. It would stop me from my development as an artist to be tied to one nation. So am I pretentious, trying to hide the reality of my nine to five reality, posing as an artist?
Traditionaly that should also mean that I donn't realy like being married and being a father. But I like that aspect of my live very much. So that's a load of bull anyway.
So writing a blog while playing Elvis Costello in Winamp is my alternative reality? Maybe, I can think of worse things to do.
So tomorrow I will clean some rabbit cages, and start drawing them, cause we want to make a bunny calendar for next year. I've got a rabbit that's called Terminator, that has killed a rat when he was young, and recently atacked a pigeon that tried to steal his food (he puth his teeth in his wing, and that nearly killed him also). He needs to go to the animal dentist, cause his teeth are growing so fast, he can hardly eat anymore. We checked if our veterinarian is on the list of rabbit friendly guys, as published by a rabbit hugging club with a huge website.
Live is grand.