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!