where's moody

Once again, I'm experiencing the strangest feeling - here I am, swimming in the pool in the middle of Africa, in Libreville, 125 km (around 78 miles) from the equator, and I suddenly hear painfully familiar sounds of russian traditional songs coming from the beach behind our pool's wall. These are folks from the russian embassy, who come to the beach every weekend. They are sitting around a portable table with some snacks and drinks, and let their russian souls sing. I hope they won't start the all-favorite "Oi, moroz, moroz, ne morozi menia!" (Hey, the frost, the frost, don't freeze me up!" Because this would be really out of place here!