Schoool's out for winter (almost)

Well, it's a week until we fly back to Blighty! Flippin' Nora, the time's gone quickly. It's hard to imagine that we'll have been here for four months. I'm looking forward to going back to the UK's tropical climate (maybe it'll be zero degrees! Crack out the flip flops!) and to devouring the edible produce of England in its entirety. Real cheese! Arrrghh!! I'm aiming to eat a block of Red Leicester a day to make up for lost cheese consumption whilst in Russia. That and a million mince pies, mmm. It will be strange to go back to a country where you have to say please and thank you, queues have order and regulation and no one batters you for not having the right change. But there are some downsides. A pack of Marlboro Lights for £7.50?! Lordy lord. And a bottle of vodka, £8 minimum?! Christ.

So for the last few weeks I've attempted to do some cultural things..and failed. I think I might be the world's worst tourist. I've turned up five minutes before closing time to about four different museums, and only ended up in Kazanskii cathedral because it was blimmin' cold and I was next to it. But lo! I think I'm going to Pushkin this weekend, a small town named after... Pushkin. There's a lot of stuff and things there apparently, so I should go. I will add lots of interesting info and facts about things of note to the next blog (har).

The only thing I managed to do was go to a Russian circus! It was bare (bear) hilare. Once you look past the animal cruelty it was a packed show of comedy gold. Although on several occasions things appeared to go awry, but to be fair if you dress a dog as a crocodile it probably won't play along. Also, whose idea was it to use cats? The least trainable animal eveeeer?! Most of the animals were in pretty good condition, but it was a bit horrific seeing burn marks on some of them. I ate a vast quantity of Teremoks afterwards to console myself.

Other than that it's been a vast array of December birthdays and almost falling over SO MANY TIMES on the glaciers that line the streets. So close to stacking it every time I leave the house. We also went to see Санта на продажу to get in the mood for Christmas, only to realise had we read the synopsis that it was a film about evil elves and Santa as a huge horned beast that steals children at Christmas. Heartwarming.

Oh, and I've pretty much got the week off school – half of our class have gone on a school trip to Arkhangelsk and only the prolific skivers have been left. No school, yeeah!

Hm so yah. Hooooome soooooon! Woooooooooo!  

Me after my cheese-fest in England:

Arrrrr..t

It's been a quiet week. I mean having the militsia attempt to kick you out of your flat and a mugging is fairly tranquil for Russia, right?

It's blummin' chilly now as well – according to our landlord the temperature is going to hit MINUS THIRTY next week. That's thirty degrees below zero. M-i-n-u-s thirty. Blurh. No ta. So I'm going to finally purchase some thermals and look as gay as Andy in his short-sleeve/long-sleeve combo. I attempted going out in tights last night which was a HUGE mistake. Genuinely feared for the wellbeing of my thighs. Can it be, that it's almost too cold to go out in Russia?! Dear God. What is one to do of an evening? Knit? Do work? Drink alone in a dark corner? Or all three?

I've also had my first fall in Russia. It felt like a momentous occasion, like I'd been truly embraced by Mother Russia. I was striding confidently homeward bound when I was thwarted by a cheeky hidden manhole cover and totally bailed into a wall. In England everyone would've pointed and laughed at such a mirthful event, but no, the Russians carried on as normal, assuming I was merely a noob to this frozen wasteland. The only victim of the trip was my pride.

We finally said goodbye to Chloe and Halvor too. We went to Griboedov, which is a bar/club/cafe/bomb shelter (they do love their multi-functionality in Russia) for a 'reggae' night that turned out to be a dubstep night in disguise. I'd go so far as to say it was 'bangin'.

I've been culturing this week! Paid a trip to the Benois Wing of the Russian Museum (which is a museum, in Russia) where Malevich's Black Square is being displayed. To my surprise, it was not only black, but also a square! Crikey. The rest of the exhibition included various other paintstuffs by Kandinsky and the like. All very modern and swish. It shocked me that I actually recognised a lot of the work, seeing as I attended two art lectures last year (debatable, I slept through one of those). I'd recommend it to anyone who is a fan of geometric shapes and hilarious looking sculptures.

Not long until home now! I am really looking forward to going back – partly because I love Christmas, partly because I miss my mum and sister and mostly because I can't stand the sight of you 'orrible Benedict lot any more. Jookes. It will be very strange to stop being in constant contact with everyone from the school I must say. But I'm sure we'll stay tight for next semester, eh chaps?

Otherwise I've become a wummi addict (delicious nutritious Haribo worms), enjoyed a far too realistis impression of an owl from Leksika lady (for this is her name) and developed a fetish for Jenson Button's chin. Apparently.

Jenson Button's chin.

There's snow business like..snow...business..?

It's bloody cold. The temperature in Petersburg has plummeted over the last week to -8C. Eew. And it's set to get much colder. There is solace though – SNOOOOOOW! In a couple of days of heavy snow there's already enough on the ground to make walking in heels a disastrous idea. And yet the Russian female contingent still seem to manage in stilettos?! I'm barely coping in my new boots that could be mistaken for rogue sheep. Cruisin' is becoming ever more difficult in these conditions - although maybe that's because I'm British. The Russians just seem to get on with snowy life here. If this much snow fell in England overnight the whole country would descend into much angry letter writing to various scapegoats (“Dear weather, you've ruined my shrubberies”). Either way, this dratted weather means I'm going to have to walk around looking like a hippo in a duvet until we go back to England. Goodbyyyye fashion! Petersburg is really pretty in the snow though, regardless of the perils of the frozen tundra that is our courtyard. And there's so much more to come! The road outside Benedict School is going to turn into a war-torn snowball combat zone.

The Russians are still raving about how warm it is for this time of year. Here is a picture of how I imagine the situation will be in a couple of weeks:

This weekend looks set to be a busy one – Chloe and Halvor are soon to be leaving us and thus much merriment shall be made (because we're sad they're leaving, not because, thank God, they've finally left). And how can I resist a Russian reggae night in an underground bunker?

We braved the icy wilderness to go to see Harry Potter this week – pretty standard wizardry and hilarious dance scenes, although this time the film did stick to the book a lot more (fnar fnar, geek). The Russian dubbing did add hilarity to the experience – Ron just sounded plain silly saying круто. On the way out we realised that Dobby was sitting behind us the whole time! It could've been a short ugly woman but in my mind it was definitely an elf. I was starstruck.

Only four weeks until home now! I'm in two minds over going back – I love Petersburg but it'll be nice to not have to fear rabid dogs/falling icicles/drunkards for a while. Also I'm going to consume an inhuman amount of cheese when I get back so watch out next semester, heffer AHOY! And any Sheffielders better lock up their daughters – I will most definitely be hitting Corp over the hols.

Potentially, hopefully, maaaybe going to see Hot Chip in two weeks. There's a digital art festival called Yota Space and they are headlining at the launch event. Oooooh it'd be a reyt do. Decisions, decisions, can I justify 1000 roubles on Hot Chip instead of food? If only Hot Chip came with a side order of their namesake...

Brrr, just writing about the cold has made me chilly. TEA PLEASE!

P.S. I WENT TO THE HERMITAGE! I realise now that this is probably the sort of thing real people write blogs about...hmm.

Ending on a warm note:

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=6304447980554417691#

ambivalent bear

So everything seems to have come to a grinding halt since the Moscow trip. I'm still happy here, but I've started to miss home for the first time since we arrived. Nothing that a Teremok won't sort though. Russia continues to amuse me regardless of the fact I've been hit by a car for the second time this week today. The main problem is school – if it weren't for those pesky lessons, school would be alright. Although there are hilarious moments (writing 'Andy is a poo' on the board so it's there for the whole lesson) and some quality doodling, spending three hours staring into space everyday is draining. There's not even Starbucks to save me. Also staring has become difficult as I've caught some eye disease overnight. Well, conjunctivitis. All my 'ands' and 'buts' are swollen. Most likely it's from passing out drunk in my make-up too often. But что делать? I'll just have to spend a week or so looking like a zombie.

This week has been fairly uneventful – a failed trip to go see Saw 3d (phew), someone asking if I was Japanese on the metro (?!) and a lot more drinking than was intended. Friday night was, as the cool kids would say, bangin'. The Benedict mob descended on a bar called Griboedov, somewhere in Petersburg (probably, I can't remember where or who I was to be frank). Everyone was a nice level of wasted and much hot goss was forged in that fateful night. Most of it radiating from Andy and his shirtless/violent/slaggy ways. Silly bear. The only regret I have (that I can recall) from Friday is that I didn't get no cake. I was later informed that there is a cafe in Griboedov that was serving delicious snacks until at least 3am. The vomming would have been soooo worth it.

I'm going to love you and leave you – as fun and time-wasting as blogging is, I feel I should maybe do some work now we have only six weeks (wah!!) left in Russia. It's weird to think that some people will be leaving sooner! Crikey. Stay safe folks, and ну погоди for the next one!


For your amusement in the meantime:


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tPe-fPzBFF0

Travelling bear

Well, it's the first day back at school since reading week. And by 'eck has it been hectic lately. Between going out all the time and a spontaneous trip to Moscow, it's hardly been a restful time. But now it's back to class with renewed vim and vigour having revised all reading week and looking forward to attending every lesson. I've started as I mean to go on my missing разговор this morning. It's so hard to get up when the sky is so dark, there's light snow and so many hilarious cat videos on Youtube.

So the highlight of the week was our brief sojourn to Moscow. A few of us had planned to go previously, but as the time drew near we realised we'd all been ridiculously disorganised and not bought tickets/packed/sorted our lives out. But lo! We popped to the station to see if there were train tickets left, and there were some for the very same night! In плацкарта mind, but tickets nonetheless. Entirely unsure of what to expect, everyone congregated at my flat with their luggage items (some sensible, some suitcases) to wait for the train at 2am. There was an air of excitement... until we actually got on. Плацкарта is basically around sixty beds in one carriage with no extra space. I say beds, they were more like shelves. Uncomfortable, stinky shelves. I was cursed with the top bunk both ways which is only big enough to capacitate shrews and the like, so my tall self ended up getting stuck in various awkward positions. The drunk Russians taking 'candid' photographs of me did nothing to aid my sleep either. Here is a picture of a typical плацкарта carriage:

Spacious. I'm not sure who the nice chap is...

Although, discomfort aside, it was novel and also not too expensive - £16 each way for an eight hour journey is so cheap compared to England.

Moscow itself was bon - we stayed in a hostel called Godzillas, which I would heartily recommend to anyone. It was laaaavely and clean with the most amazing showers. Also it's only £20 a night and close to the centre, not too shabby! We did a bit of sight-seeing, a bit of shopping and a bit of going out. It was all hilarious fun and much banter was had, even if biffing someone wearing a helmet over the head when they order a particular drink seems to be the norm in bars.

The main attraction in Moscow was definitely Starbucks. My god, my first caramel macchiato in months was SWEET. Even if it cost £4ish. Me and Becci were united in out ecstasy at finding this legendary establishment and the discovery was celebrated with much hugging and merry-making (involving a ukelele, naturally). Also some girlish squealing.

Another point of interest was meeting up with my best friend, Joe, who took us to a huge funfair in some sort of park (I have no clue where I was) near the famed Hotel Cosmos (it was in Nightwatch, dontcha know). Highlights include the 'Shake-Dance' ride that we went on which was far more terrifying than any of us had expected and some mild violence on the bumper cars. Sooore knees.

So other than losing my purse due to unforeseen foolishness (not on my part), embarrassing 'Er..I actually have no money' situations in Kofe Haus and trying to translate the archaic Irish dialect being bandied about by Martha and Fletcher, Moscow was pretty sweet.

Must leave fewer notes for waiters

Another week, another dozen near death experiences involving маршрутки/buses/cars. The roads of Russia really are a free-for-all. Seeing as I normally float around in a daze hither and thither with no regard to my surroundings, Russia was probably not the best choice.

This week has been eventful! I started teaching my first student – I am teaching our beloved English language to a high-powered businesswoman. I don't think she was too impressed when I turned up late (having gotten horrendously lost on a marshrutka on the way), looking tatty and wearing a lip piercing. Oops. I'd also gone in worrying about the fact that I smelt of fags... only to realise that it was a tobacco factory. I could feel my lungs shying away in nervous anticipation of the lung cancer to come. There were a few minutes of stilted conversation at first, but once we got into the flow of things it was all fine and dandy. Apart from the awkward moment when the whole of the production line staff laughed at me for being English/dressing oddly/speaking funny, everything went swimmingly. She's lovely and is really keen to learn, even if I don't know what the heck I'm talking about most of the time. One day she'll realise that my version of English grammar is somewhat awry. But I intend to have left Russia by then.

I have a new Russian friend, hurrah! I used the age-old trick of leaving my name and number on the table in a cafe for a waiter. I planned to leave the note and then make a swift and crafty escape to avoid embarrassment. Note written (You wanna speak some Russian with me?), me and Hamad made preparations to chip it out of the door, leaving no trace of our previous presence. We stood slowly, tense as the waiter passed by. Like Olympic track athletes at the starting line, waiting for the gun to fire that initial shot, we braced ourselves for escape. The waiter started talking to another customer and we legged it. Stumbling desperately towards the door, the exit was within reach when suddenly we heard shouts of 'Девушка, девушка!' ('Girl, girl!'). Shitter. He'd caught us. Hamad had left his scarf under the table and so our lovely waiter was returning it. This was followed by an awkward pause before me and Hamad decided to go for escape attempt number two and actually managed to leave. So, assuming that we'd decimated our chances of talking to a new Russkii by being typical awkward English-types and shuffling away instead of making conversation, I didn't think anything would come of it. But lo! Later that evening good old Pasha texted me asking if I still wanted to speak Russian with him. A brief phone call later, we'd arranged to meet the next day for a chatskii. So today we went to meet him and conversed for some time in Кофе Xаус. Well, I say conversed. It was mostly me and Hamad not understanding and him laughing at all the stupid noises we were making. But he seems like a nice chap, and no doubt I shall see him again.

In other news, the electricity went off in the flat the other day. It came back on and now the boiler has switched itself off. Ah Russia, you and your love of inconsistent services/facilities/everything. It'll be weird not having frequent power cuts back in England. And food that doesn't taste like Chernobyl. Christmas seems so soon. The time here has gone so quickly here. Hallowe'en is inching ever closer, and as usual my amazing costume ideas that require planning will be forgotten until the last minute and I'll end up covering myself in loo roll and saying I'm a mummy. Again.

Talking of Hallowe'en, here's a pumpkin-related video:

http://cuteanimals.todaysbigthing.com/2010/10/14

Pigeon attack

Sitting in a cafe with Amalia and Joanna listening to Brandy, the dead bodies and looming dentist appointments seem so far away. I'm finally starting to appreciate black tea too – if you ask for tea with milk in Russia you will most likely be met with a look of horror and a slap. Black tea with lemon is the way forward!

I experienced my first bab-related delay the other day. The бабушки (grandmas) in Russia are the stuff of legends – little old ladies dressed in head-scarves with faces like prunes and the barging ability of a bulldozer. I was on the way to school having already missed one lesson and running ten minutes late for the second, I found myself trapped in a crowd of about fifty grannies. I turned left and right, looking for an escape to safety but there was no way out. The only option left was to barge a bab. I mustered all my courage and pushed the least hench looking OAP in an attempt to get through. A tirade of angry Russian followed along with a shove back into the centre of the silver brigade. I was half an hour late to school because of Russia's angry pensioners, so I decided to hang about Sennaya Ploschad for a bit instead of making it into the lesson.

I booked my dentist appointment as well. I was slightly concerned when the receptionist said that the dentist spoke English 'very, very badly', but when I met her it turned out her English was fine. I cannot express how much I hate the dentist, and the idea of seeing one in Russia is not a particularly pleasing idea. However! She had a gander and all should be sorted by Tuesday. Hoorah! I could've been seen straight away but in a state of panic I ran away to feed bread to pigeons with Amalia. We were practically assaulted! To start with there were two or three pigeons, followed by a HUGE FLOCK of every feathered entity in the universe. There were some right tatty old birds, including one that we christened Ruffles McGee, who was too slow to get any bread. Bless 'im. I also accidentally booted a pigeon up the bum trying to shoo them away with my foot which was bare hilare. I've always secretly wanted to do it but have never been able to overcome the moral dilemma (whether to potentially ruin my shoes with poo or not).

This is Ruffles McGee:

I added the bow tie but he was already wearing the hat and holding a cane.

I've also now developed a new addiction... to ukelele! We went for dinner at the lovely Bekki and Martha's flat (which incidentally was ВКУСНO) and I had a little play around with Bekki's ukelele. Sooo much fun. I'm thinking of buying one. Spare change anyone?

Even egg and chips tastes weird in Russia

So, I still have toothache. Looks like I'll have to pay a trip to a Russian dentist, waaaah! I've been recommended a good one that is supposedly fluent in English so we shall see. I'll probably end up having all my teeth removed and become a toothless old crone. At the minute I'm dosed up on some hench painkillers and antibiotics which should do for the time being. I'm down with the physical pain, but the tooth pain related bullying at school is really getting to me. Some people just don't know when enough's enough.

In other more gruesome news, I saw a dead body on the street today. Two suspicious looking men were dragging him away and loading him into a boot. Welcome to Russia! It was really surreal and something I'm not in a hurry to see again. It's strange how callous an attitude there seems to be towards death in Russia, no one seemed bothered or shocked by it.

On a more positive note, I'm off to Moscow on the 16^th! Just for the night to see my partner in crime at Sheffield Uni, Joe 'The Rave' Grange. I'm sooo excited! Even for all Joe's vomming everywhere and bringing home random transvestites he's a nice chap. Hopefully a few people will be going, I don't fancy getting the train alone. Judging by my track record I'd end up in Leeds or something. Again.

Last night we all went to a Mike's 21^st birthday do – as usual I was roughly five hours (fashionably) late. It was a good night – some unexpected hook ups (or just the one shocker actually), a good mix of alcohol and antibiotics, and a bit of a cheeky Atelier (a club in Petersburg, rapidly becoming my regular). I also drunk dialled my friend, shot a lot of vodka after saying I wasn't going to drink, and stole a lot of cigarettes without being caught. Standard. I didn't see Mike towards the end of the night but considering the fact that he started drinking before 12pm I'm sure it must have only ended well. I somehow made it into school looking and feeling rough but to be honest I think I felt worse for the ridiculously oily egg and chips I made myself the night before than the alcohol. Bleeehhh. I was missing home so thought I'd eat something typically English, then realised I don't particularly like egg and chips. Also the crucial sausage was missing. At the risk of innuendo, I'm really craving a good bit of sausage. I'm not especially carnivorous in Britain – I basically just eat what's coming my way – but it's been a month-ish since I had proper meat and I can practically hear the anaemia. I had a quick gander at the meat in our local 'posh' shop and it was green. The cheaper shop, Dixi, also stocks meat, but a friend's landlady told him to “never ever ever buy meat from Dixi”. Maybe I won't then.

I finally bought a coat! It makes me look like a marshmallow made of poo but it's practical. It's the perfect complement to my ginger roots – I attempted to dye my hair back to it's natural brown colour and ended up with red roots. Stupid Russian hair dye. So I'm going to dye it black again. Or bleach it.......

Ouch

Once again horrendously hungover – this is the aftermath of three nights out in a row. I'm also suffering from toothache which a) is terrifying in case I have to see a Russian dentist and b) means I've had to spend the day holding a chilled can of Baltika to my face. It's been a fun weekend though, although I mysteriously ended up twatted every night after deciding not to drink excessively. I will probably (maybe) cut down in future and perhaps sort my life out. I'd like to think that wandering the streets in a man's coat and a шапка holding a fag and a bottle of beer was not the epitome of my blossoming youth. Also there's some recordings of me singing which will hopefully never see the light of day that were definitely the result of alcohol.

It's starting to get chilly now, but I've been told the heating comes on tomorrow! Hoorah! Yes, in Russia the heating is centrally controlled, so the state gas companies decide when the heating is turned on and off. Basically it's on in winter and off in spring. Supposedly it's absolutely boiling inside when it comes on so I shall be spending my days around the flat in hotpants. At the minute it's quite cold inside but I craftily bought a blanket from Ikea which functions both as a bed cover and fashionable garment. Here's a picture of me modelling said blanket with the lovely Chris and Sophie:

I'd like to point out that my face is not always like that, I was pretending to be an evil бабушка at the time. So yeah, it's getting to hideous coat weather. I have one short black coat that is possibly the only waterproof coat I've ever had. I look a right heffer in it. People keep running out of the way screaming when I wear it because I look so unbelievably hench. I'm going to invest in a coat more a la mode from Zara, but it's going to set me back a lot. That's one thing I've noticed here – the coats are really bad quality and very expensive for what they are. If you come to Russia, buy a coat in England! I'm considering wearing a duvet for the time being. I have bought myself a furry hat though, from that oh so authentic Russian shop, Topshop. It's practically bigger than me but it'll keep me warm and is a good pillow for those nights you end up drunkenly crashing at someone else's house.

Anyway, I'm off to do some of the gargantuan pile of homework that I've left until the last minute. And then nap for all of eternity.

Bleh.

So, I went to the Hermitage! Well, I say I went... I queued for a bit and decided it was taking too long, so sacked it off and went for a Teremok instead. Now I must explain what Teremok is for those of you who aren't in Russia. Teremok is a really common chain fast food place here – imagine MacDonalds... but with PANCAKES! I am a massive fan of pancakes. You could say I'm a fan-cake. So this is the perfect solution for my ever hungry self, although I'm not sure how long my body will take the abuse of three heart attack inducing pancakes a day in place of real food. But in a country where the food is either plain nasty or totally different to what you were expecting, it's a nice addition. Here is a picture of an 'E-mail' pancake which is my usual order. I don't know what's in it, something like mushrooms n ting:

<3

After bunking off the Hermitage we went for a гулять around Nevskii for some shopping. I assumed I could wing it with a very short leather jacket in winter but my legs are none too happy about the situation so looks like I'll have to buy a proper coat, like. It's so expensive here!! The coats not only cost an arm and a leg, you would have to lose an arm and a leg to afford enough coat to be warm. Did get ambushed by 'free hugs' people on the way though, provided some temporary insulation.

Apart from the failed trip to the Hermitage, the week so far has been busy-ish. I've been helping some friends find a flat – they are using the same estate agent that we used, Ira. She's absolutely lovely but doesn't speak any English apart from the odd mispronounced word ("I k-now"") And keeps telling me to buy a better coat, put on weight and screw as many men over as possible while I'm still young. Bless 'er. She's been so ridiculously helpful! Sorted out my internet, recommended where to buy Halaal meat to a friend, pointed us in the direction of a good place to buy coats. Alllllll sorts. She taught me a Russian swearword too, one that I should “never, ever, ever use in a lesson, or in fact, in life”. So naturally I have drawn up a contract with a certain chap in my class to outline the conditions under which he must slip the word 'бля' into a lesson, for which he will receive payment of 100 roubles. In return I have to use the archaic Irish phrasing 'tomorrow week' instead of 'a week tomorrow'. I foolishly didn't read the small print that stated I have to do this until the end of time...

There are endless birthdays and visitors this next week or so (well, two birthdays and one visitor. Endless!) so we shall see if I get round to blogging from the nadir of what promises to be an epic hangover!

Сюрприииз!

Hangoveeeeeeeer. It was my friend Kiia's birthday on Thursday so we decided to throw a surprise party for her last night. Her reaction was bare hilare, she literally had nooo clue as to what was going on. Somehow she didn't find out or guess, even up to the point where she came to the flat. Phoebe took Kiia out for cocktails to give us time to get ready and the plan was that they'd come and pick me up on the way to a fictitious club. Phoebe had a stroke of genius for the name of this fabled club – Мой Дом. Very swish! Even with 30+ people ssshh-ing loudly in the kitchen, the fact that I was supposedly sitting in the kitchen in the dark, and the mystery club with a suspect name, Kiia didn't catch on. The actual surprise was hilarious, people leaning in with party hats on and cheesy grins. Everyone arrived quite early which was good in terms of getting people drunk and lairy for Kiia's arrival.

After the party we left to go to a club called Metro which according to Phoebe's guide book is a really cool place to go for teens. It was flipping huge, with four floors and horrible carpets. For those of you who have had the pleasure of going to Liquid in Nuneaton, imagine that but bigger and with fewer Russians. The music was hit and miss, but Chris bought me shots so it was aaaall OK in the end. I think, possibly, I may have been drunk... A lot of people and a lot of alcohol were involved. Unexpected pairings, a fight, several falls and deep conversations were the order of the night. Scaaaandalous!

We came back home a really, really, really long way at about 5am. Ah that sinking feeling when you see Nevskii Prospekt! And then realise you're on the wrong bloody end of it. To make things even better, MacDonalds was closed! Where on earth was I to get my чикенбууууургер now?! Me, Phoebe, Eli, Karin and David went back to the flat to wait for the metro to open again and get some munch and a cuppa tea. Phoebe went to bed and I got my usual drunken 'let's fry an egg' urge. I proceeded to burn some toast and chuck a load of cheese and fried eggs over it. Probably the first time I've ever successfully fried an egg. On a spinney office chair, wasted. As in I was on the chair drunk and cooking an egg, the egg wasn't whirling around on the chair with a bottle of vodka in hand. It was bitter-sweet though – soooomebody, somebody who demanded the tea and edibilities in the first place, was too sleepy to have any and had a nap on the table instead. Tsh, some people.

In other news, met a random Russian man in the street and exchanged numbers, I've become addicted to Teremok in place of fags and I REALLY WANT SOME ROLLERSKATES!

Anyway, I'm losing the will to live. Au revoir mes amis! I'm actually going to be a tourist and go to the Hermitage tomorrow, so might actually put useful stuff on here. Probs won't though.

Me, my hilarious face and the looovely Kiia.

First coupla weeks в России

Well... I appear to be in Russia. Thought I'd join the blogging masses to keep you unwashed lot updated of my adventures. Mostly because it's either this or SMI homework. S..c..r...eeeeew that!

I've been here for two weeks and I'm already in flipping love with Saint Petersburg. I don't know what it is about this city, but there's definitely something special about it. Maybe it's the ludicrously cheap sushi, or the endless pancakes. Or the people defecating in the street. Who knows, either way I can tell I'm going to love my time here.

The last two weeks have been.. turbulent. The first night in the Motherland was horrendous. I arrived at my homestay accommodation after a stupidly long bus ride into the 'back of beyond' (as the Russians call it, otherwise known as Vaslievskii island). Although the prolific graffiti and loitering ruffians added a certain charm to the post-soviet tower blocks, something just didn't feel right. With the added trauma of meeting my khoziaika and realising I couldn't understand or speak any Russian, I did wonder why the HECK I'd chosen to learn Russian instead of some sun-related language like Spanish. Contemplating the fact that I was consigned to the ghetto for nine month, I tried to work out the best way of integrating into the local gang culture to protect myself. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door! Upon arriving at the airport I'd been told I'd be staying with another girl in the same apartment, but she was arriving later. Miss Phoebe Spurr arrived in the evening, when I'd all but given up hope and was plotting my escape through the window with the aid of bedsheets. We got talking and it became pretty clear that neither of us wanted to stay there, so on a whim we decided to move out. I knew I'd like her after she started talking about her bowels even though we'd just met.

This decision to leave was further consolidated by the fried pasta that we had for tea. With a HUGE chunk of loathsome tomato. We couldn't find the bin so naturally we threw it out of the window when Zinaida left the room. Other culinary delights from Zinaida's kitchen included salt omelette (salt with a pinch of egg), pancakes with dates and smetana and pancakes with cabbage. Yes, cabbage.

Looong story short, me and Phoebe have now moved to a shiny new flat and are livin' it laaaarge! Our flat is right in the centre of Petersburg, about 15 minutes from Nevskii Prospekt. It's so cute! Very 70s. Sometimes I have to remind myself that I haven't travelled back in time. It's difficult when there are so many mullets and lairy trousers around. I've got inexplicable mullet envy at the minute. Do I take the plunge and get one? Ooooh dilemma. I've also got my heart set on getting some roller blades, they are quite the craze on Nevskii. I'm so well coordinated it would be a crime NOT to get them.

The house-warming party went well, judging from the fifteen empty vodka bottles left at the end. Nobody decided to trash the flat which was nice, apart from one person in particular (you know who you are) wanting to wee in the sink. It was laaaavely to see everyone together, even if I was too much of a drunken mess later to hold a conversation.

All in all I feel like I've settled in Russia. I've done absolutely nothing constructive or tourist-y, I've permanently damaged my lungs and liver, and I'm already skiving off the doss lessons to go get coffee/pancakes/fags. Juuust like home. So yeah this blog is probably what ze Engleeesh call “useless”. Who knows, maybe one day I'll post something informative. Oh the anticipation!

Here is a hilarious picture of a dog with a mullet:

Ha.

до скоро!