My heart lies bleeding (just a little bit).. Маша, суперзвезда учителя

Just had my last lesson, and really after two weeks, I still feel that I can hardly utter a word, let alone hit the right cases and inflections. Pus to eavery rule there is like an exception rate of probably 1000%! However, none of this is Mascha's fault, who really is a great and very patient teacher. Thanks Mascha so much for all your efforts! She knows how to cut down the lessons into manageable and enjoyable entities, using (word) games, children's games (though by no means childish), and whenever she saw that my focus was slipping, she changed to something a bit easier for the time being.

This having been my last lesson here in St. Petersburg, I decided to move into a hotel in the center tomorrow, so that I might even actually go to the Hermitage and the Russian Museum after all, and not having to worry about catching the le dernier Metro.

Somehow, I have really always been much more interested in alternative views, and did not feel like joining in to mass tourism (those buses spitting out masses of Chinese tourists just won't stop). Obviously, Hermitage & Cie are representative of  posh society, who ultimately always seem to write history, and that is not really where I would search for the "Russian Soul". I would expect to get a glimpse in the Metro, a hospital maybe, families, any people in fact who are not directly involved with tourists and/or foreigners, the prison, the parks, the bars, the underground movements and arts. (And I was so happy finding in Vivi and Timo friends who seem to share some of my views). I find it actually a good thing that people are generally a bit restrained and/or shy towards foreigners and strangers. If you enjoy being approached - let's say - like in Egypt, by everybody and their uncle wanting to sell you something - don't come here. If, however, you like to take your time, and you respect the reservations of others, then you will probably do all right after a while. And this is certainly one of the reasons I have started learning Russian. I am getting quite bored of European over-regulation and repetitive art, talent shows and Big Brother spin-offs. Truth be told, the few soaps I happened to see (not watch, obviously, my Russian is quite far from actually understanding more than a few words), were not exactly sophisticated, but then again they probably aren't any worse than our Swiss TV junk food. Still, as I have noticed working with artists from Poland before, I have great hopes for a new generation in the East, who has not yet been "regulated", domesticated, commercialized and subsidized ad nauseam. It was therefore a stroke of luck, having met Timo and his underground photography. I have just about had it with all those streamlined, brainwashed, boring, dying old though Neopuritans and Health-Fascists.

This said and duly vociferated, I shall still consider going to an established museum. If it rains, possibly. And then maybe rather the Russian Museum, and not the Hermitage. Well, I'll play it by ear.

Oh and even though the statistic hits to this blog are not really what I had expected or hoped for (decreasing hits - so sad), I do appreciate the comments I've had so far. Especially Miguel, who asked if I was a journalist. That really was a much appreciated chicken soup for my starved soul ;-)

Wednesday - Land of the Pink Smurfs! Среда - страна розовый Смэрфс

Met with some friends and we decided to go and experience a traditional Russian Bathhouse. Good thing too we had our Russian friend Nikolay with us, to explain how things work. Thus, first there's a little shop where you can buy everything you need for the sauna, shampoo, oil, and most importantly, bundles of birch and juniper branches, to "flagellate" yourself or others with, in order to intensify the heat and give you that lovely piggy colour. Then there are those funny felt hats. I asked Niki what these were for - thinking maybe they have Sauna fan clubs just like for the Zenit football club (which by the by have great blue coloured fan stuff - caps etc.). I He said those hats were for keeping your head from overheating, and I figured "Fair enough, a stupid question begs for a stupid answer". But bought one anyway, as a souvenir. Of course I then realized that most men were really wearing these in the sauna, and what with the flagellation and all going on, everybody looked eerily smurfy. Also at the entrance,  there's the little kiosk, where you can buy your beer, vodka, and dried fish snacks (tastes exactly like those snacks for cats - and yes, I have tried those too.

It is a huge bath house, not quite up to Swiss hygiene standards, but that's quite ok with me, as it made the place look and feel more homey. So you go up the wide stairs, (second floor is the men's baths, third floor the womens'). Here you hand in your valuables to another guy and get a number. So get naked and put your stuff into a small wooden "closet", no locks. I was a bit apprehensive walking around with no towel at first, but it seems that is so normal that nobody really seems bothered so you just do as when in Rome. Then there's the big shower room, full of benches with plastic buckets, which you fill with hot water and then put your branches in. And off you go into the sauna room, which is somewhat in between a Turkish bath (steamy) and a dry sauna. Very hot! And as mentioned before, a lot of self-flagellation. Let me tell you that whipping sure feels great though. You get all tingly feeling. Nobody really lasts very long. Next step, stand under a a bucket with a chain, which upon jerking on releases ice water. Before you know what hit you, the shock is over. Then you venture into the somewhat muddy coloured cold bath tub, to further cool down a bit. THEN you come out all squeeky pink and happy to have survived it all. Then you go to the entrance room and sit on one of those wood benches and start drinking and eating. Lots of eating and drinking going on all over the place. And I mean serious eating and drinking, not just nibbling. Plates of fresh salmon, dry fish, salads, and the almost ubiquitous bottle of voddie, and the beers. As i said before, when in Rome... And you try and listen into some of the (drunken) conversation. As people under the influence are bound to repeat themselves and to talk rather slowly (before getting to the point of slurring and making no sense at all), I was actually able to pick up quite a bit.

We did three runs of the hot-cold routine, then obviously got quite hungry and ready to go for dinner at a Georgian restaurant. Somewhere near Nevskii Prospekt, so not exactly cheap but nice, pleasant service though they did not speak "foreign", but we had Niki to interpret for us. The Italian guests at the next table weren't quite so lucky and struggled with their menu and ordering process, so we helped them out a bit.

After that we went clubbing. Timo, our friend from Finland, is an artistic photographer and he took pictures from quite some unusual angles, which got me interested, as I love it when people look at the world with their own eyes, not just trying to shoot the next postcard. I also had a look at his website and as I think he really captures atmospheres, I am adding his website link here (with Timo's permission, of course):

Timo's Art

I will also ask Timo if I may publish some of his St. Petersburg pictures here. I saw some on his facebook and was not disappointed. Funny that he took a photo of a graffiti I had seen before, and actually had meant to take a picture, but hadn't my iPhone with me.

After dinner, we went to a club, and the rest, as they say, is history. Got a bit, well - rather quite drunk, and after the others had taken off to their hotel, just went on partying, home late and possibly not on my best behaviour. Next thing I know it's morning and I have half the school banging on my door. Tried to ignore it for a while, (thinking: what the f... are those guys banging on doors in the middle of the night?!), but of course it was already morning and I had missed class. Good thing I finally opened the door as they had gotten worried and were considering kicking it in. Not really what you need for a good old hang-over in the morning. Sorry though, guys!

Flashback to last Sunday

As mentioned before, the weather last Sunday was glorious. Thus after our short visit in prison, we took the Metro to Petrogradskaya (I think?), and from there issued to a rich-looking neighbourhood and a big park, with a luna park. Perfect venue for people-watching. Relaxed, animated atmosphere. A whole different world to Primorskaya. After strolling through the park and checking out the rides of the luna park, we sat down in a somewhat pricey but ever so pleasant "Biergarten". Accompanied by a band playing Spanish songs quite well, we had a Weissbier, salad and desert with coffee, and I guess one payed a bit for the atmosphere and the music as well, as really prices were quite something else.

Afterwards, on our way back to the metro, we listened to band playing Russian rock music. Quite energetic, and Vivi became their instant groupie.

Quite a lot of women promenading on high heels again, though we caught one getting out of the park secretly changing slipping into more comfortable footwear after parading. So they are human after all. Though the woman are generally less "dolled-up" than in Poland. More discretely, for certain.

The men, even if the look fit enough from the back, almost always juggle around more or less prominent bellies, Must be the voddie and the food, which, like Polish food, tends to be on the "nutritious side." Probably a heritage of former times and Siberian living conditions, when fat was a prerequisite for survival. Which reminds me of the story I've heard about former camps and prisons in Siberia, where "common or normal criminals" would "groom" political criminals, who would be more gullible, to flee with them. On their way through winter, when food got scarce, the political criminals, serving as life food stock, would be killed and eaten by their "mates". Lovely story!

Men here also tend to wear their hair calmed forward, Not much gel seems to be used as yet. I remember that style from where I grew up in a country village in the seventies. Not many fat people though. These some of our observations from people watching in the park.

The following pictures are all by Vivi. Thanks again.

Prison - в тюрьме

Крестах

Super weekend, not quite as planned but wonderful and interesting in quite other ways...

Vivi and I took the Metro to Финляндского вокзала and were greeted yet again by a spotless sky and warm weather. We had some small doubts that the "Prison Museum" might not really work out as it says on the Internet, but decided to give it a go anyway. Upon arrival in front of the building, we just followed some people with big plastic bags, and obviously just happened to drop in during visiting hours. We decided to lay low a bit and try not to look to conspicuous, but of course again we must have stuck out like sore thumbs. There was nobody at the numerous reception desks, but a friendly woman told us they would open so, so we just hung around at the reception hall. The visitors stoically started unpacking all the contents of their plastic bags - loads of cigarettes, food, t-shirts, onions, chocolate, coffee, tea... and not just unpacked them but took everything out of the original packages and put it all into transparent littel plastic bags. First, Vivi thought it was just people selling stuff - but then we realized that they would have to hand in everything to be checked before being handed out to the inmates.

When the desks opened, we let the visitors queue first, waiting until one was free, then asked about the museum, which seems to be closed. Pity, especially as we wanted to see the tattoo gallery and other art produced by the inmates. Vivi asked her teacher to find out if a guided tour to the prison museum can be arranged. I must say that the experience of actually seeing visitors preparing their Sunday visit was way more interesting to me - especially as I worked in a Swiss prison years ago, and in some ways the atmosphere was very different, in other ways not that much.

And another link, though considering what might go on inside, they may romanticize: Крестах
Крестах

Смоленское-православное-кладбище - Smolensk Orthodox Semitary

Smolensk Orthodox Semitary

Here some photos I promised in my previous blog: (Thanks Vivi for sharing yours - of which I will post some along with mine.)

"It is unusual"

Something I hear rather often here, when suggesting something. For example, I really would have liked to show my appreciation of the play to the actors by buying a round after the performance, but fortunately I asked my friend first, and he subtly let me know that this would be "unusual". I understood that it might thus be a bit offensive or weird, and so the usual or normal thing to do whenever you leave a table at a bistro or restaurant, you just go and pay for whatever you consumated. Though Artiom secretly paid for my bred sticks, (thanks by the way!).

There seem to small differences of behavior that might make you stranger or a stranger in the eyes of people here. Thus here's some detail that especially Americans, who often find even European behavior unfriendly, might take into account when visiting: Upon entering a restaurant, do not expect to get seated or greeted. You will also not find a waiter or waitress bouncing up to your table smiling at you and introducing themselves as their waiter for the evening. You order your food, they bring it, you pay- voilà! Same thing in a supermarket. It's just the way things are done. Its' neither personal nor unfriendly.

Also, there seems to be a certain amount of shyness or waryness, and the whole way of behaving towards strangers obviously still needs to be appreciated in hindsight to the iron curtain. Though it may have been lifted over twenty years ago, the shadows remain to some extent.

I've  had some interesting feedback and questions to my blog, but generally, and for now, all I can say really is: take your time, take it all in, the atmosphere, the way people do things. So far, I have had lovely and less pleasant encounters in equal measure, as I usually have wherever I go, so I'll just go along with those people I feel happy with. Once you get acquainted, it is great to get introduced to friends. And of course, a few drinks (at least in my case) always help overcome communication barriers. Once people sing for you, you're in a good place. I should restrain from evaluating, because one week in St. Petersburg is really not even the tip of the tip of the iceberg. Bear with me.

Also, often I have heard directly or through other students, that if you come late or miss an appointment, this is considered very rude, and you will be accused of "waisting my time"! Being Swiss, I do my best to be on time, though considering the distances here, this has not always been possible. As mentioned in the school's information letter, by all means send a text message if you can't make it in time, albeit just a few minutes, and plan ahead of time. This really is important! As a matter of fact, if you are a future student of http://russianinpetersburg.com, do read that instruction letter, it will save you trouble, and frustration. (I had to learn the hard way, as I am one of those people who usually break a new device or appliance before bothering to read the manual.)

Readers who are from St. Petersburg or have been to Russia before, please do send me your reactions and correct  me whenever I am not to the point. Remember, these are just short-time impressions, there is no way I could ever make well-researched and "true" statements at this point, but I also believe that other newcomers might run into similar situations and recognize themselves in specific circumstances, which is why I chose to include such menial observations here.

Curious Savage - Странная миссис Сэвидж

"Театр Дождей"- St. Petersburg

Thank you so much Артем for showing me a different - off-the-beaten-track St. Petersburg. From the stroll through the wonderful, magic semitary (I will go back to take pictures and find out the name again later) through the old, original streets of Vasilii Island to your theatre, where I was invited to watch you as Hannibal in this play. It really bugs me that I had not taken my camera to take a picture of the "monument of the invisible man" - that would have been funny!

Anyhow, I loved tha African Art Cafe - and enjoyed the friendly atmosphere there, then of course felt so priviledged that the theatre made an extra space in the booked-out audience to let me watch! I certainly was the only foreigner, and trust me even though it was in Russian and I only understood the odd word of phrase, I was totally taken in after a little while. What an exquisite performance. At first I have to admit that I was a bit apprehensive that I would not last for over two hours sitting on one buttock only, somehow keeping a balance to keep me from falling into the corridor, but after a few minutes I got so involved and entranced by the performance and the lovable characters that I totally forgot the precarious sitting arrangement.

I really can't compliment all of you enough for playing so intensively (how do you do it - the company playing the same repertoire for a whole season - yet never once getting out of character or losing focus? So if one cannot really understand (besides what you told me about the story before) not being bored for one moment really means you guys know how to do magic on scene.

Afterwards of course I was very happy to see most of the actors in the Art Cafe - and again felt very welcome and this must be exceptionable, as I have heard from other students here that this it is not always easy to be accepted. And lovely that you actually all sang for me
some traditional Russian songs!

Please thank everybody again from me - (can i adopt Mrs Savage!?)


 The funny thing was that after so many almost perfect sunny days, the very moment we arrived at the "Театр Дождей" (Rain Theatre), it started to rain - how did you manage that special effect? Then ass soon as we left to take one of the last Metros, it had cleared up again, and the Trinity Cathedral looked eerie and right out of a fairy tail with the moon behind in the near darkness.


And another compliment today goes to Mascha, my teacher, who realized that I had quite a late night last night and when my concentration got dodgy, she brought out the fun games and we had a good laugh.

Already one week of classes - time does fly. Making plans for the weekend. Vivi wants to visit the St. Petersburg prison - strange, strange woman, but what's new? - and since I am game for all things strange anyway  (it can hardly be a coincidence that my first ever play in Russian here was Странная миссис Сэвидж!) I will go with her - if she does all the necessary arrangements and we find a spot in hour busy schedules to visit it together. (Be warned though, Vivi: If we get in trouble and things get hot - I might have to sell you and leave you behind to buy my way out, sorry about that, but you being Italian I am sure you have some Mafia connections to figure a way of getting you out - and then you get to write a book about your experience in a Russian jail - I'll write a racy script and Hollywood here we come - right?)

Bart ( the study coordinator) came by today and it we had a nice chat. (And no, Bart! I did not want to show off my Dutch whilst speaking with Vivi on the phone - she really does speak Dutch as well, which you will have found out for yourself by now.)

No pics today am afraid, as I am a bit wary carrying my iPhone with me - as I never really know where I end up during a day.

5-й день Wonder Woman/Speedy Gonzales

Viviiiii!!!! Madonna! But really! It is funny only for you if I walk backwards because I am still talking to you and then bump into a car, thus almost getting lynched for abusing the car by a very upset and angry looking driver! For me that's just rather embarrassing, annoying and not least I actually hurtful. Well with hindsight of course it is funny for me too, been a Swiss Borat too long for not appreciating that my awkward ways might be funny to others. (So you think you can multitask?)

Now some clarifications: Vivi is the Tyrolean diving instructor, and - as she corrects me - not from North Tyrol, but from South Tyrol, thus Italian and not Austrian. I realized she was Italian, though as she (also) speaks German, I automatically made that North, though of course its northern Italy. Having said this, I should warn future friends of Wonder Woman, or Speedy Gonzales, as she should probably call herself. Vivi does not walk, she runs constantly. No wonder she's afraid of the cops stopping her, the way she moves it really looks like she is escaping from somewhere or running away after hitting someone on the head and robbing them. Oh! And sorry to say, but you are even worse than me when it comes to orientation. So the two of us looking for the registration office took about 3 hours, (though in all fairness we now must have seen most of St. Petersburg, albeit in a great big hurry), as it should have taken us maybe 20 minutes to get to the registration office. Needless to say that after unwillingly having run the St. Petersburg marathon early in the morning, no need to visit the local fitness center later on, as had been our plan.

No lessons today. I forgot to arrange for a special lesson, which the school offers, where students accompany you to either visit sights, or do menial things such as shopping or other everyday things you need or want to do, guiding you in Russian. What a splendid idea. Vivi has booked hers, so I am left dangling. It's ok, and actually it will force me to get organized. Shall hop on a tourist bus or boat. None of the guides we approached yesterday asking for directions spoke anything but Russian, and we even managed to stutter our questions in Russian but beware of the answers: Streams of Russian, and lots of waving about in all directions, so afterwards we'd  usually end up more confused than before. Until we picked up the magic word мост (bridge), and the waving of hands unmistakably directed in the direction back to Newski Prospekt, which is not at all where we had been searching and running about aimlessly for the past two hours. So my guess they will let out the foreign speaking guides during high season - June, July and August, when the prize tags will probable go up as well.

Actually, the guy waving us in the right direction was a policeman. We both were a bit apprehensive about approaching one, having heard or read that one should avoid doing so, but at that point we were quite desperate, and he looked friendly enough, in a grumpy sort of way.

As mentioned before, people usually do not look at you in public. I feel that if you do look at people in the street more than furtively (as they do), it might give the impression that you were in some way coming on to them. Thus, when you read that you should not look a policeman (милиция?) in the eyes, it is probably just common decency not to stare at one, and might offend them, just as it might civilians. Also, don't expect the cashier at the supermarket to reciprocate your smile or до свидания. Nothing personal.

Another beautiful, sunny day: Gotta investigate. Ready or not, St. Petersburg here I come...

...Visited the Дом книги (House of Books) before looking around for some souvenirs. Can anybody tell me where I might find some quirky skirt for Nina, my 12 year old niece? She asked for something "special", above knee-length, that will "swing in the breeze" (her words). Browsed the souvenir market and one thing I do want to buy is an old belt from former soldiers of the USSR. Found this really nice guy who sells them. The fun thing about it is that the soldier's names are written on the inside, and one can adapt the size to one's own measurements. So I will check what name (and year etc.) will speak to me. Hope it won't be of some poor guy who died in battle. Belt look tough so will probably outlive me.

Short boat tour, the views are breathtaking, overwhelming. According to weather forecast this might be the last sunny day for a bit, so wanted to do that now.

4-й день - Caps and uniforms

What is it with uniform caps, helmets, bonnets, covers? I understand the purpose of shielding the eyes from glare and sun by flat caps (nope, am not going to write flat cops!), and also helmets of course in case of riots, though it would seem to me that cops and militia might be more prone to die of a heat stroke than anything a head cover might shield them from, at least these days. Thing is, the caps worn in Russia are enormous! OK, I once was told that hats in general are supposed to make you look or seem taller - fair enough. However, if the men underneath actually look like underage, skinny, pimply boys, the effect is possibly rather different. This is as far as I'll go here - better keep it general - though there are some pretty caustic thoughts under my helmet just aching to burst and make themselves known. Devil - BE GONE! And just in case I might have stepped on some virtual feet here - the same goes, in variants, for cops and militia all over the world. Still, under the circumstances - sorry guys, no funny pictures here.

Now of course this whole hat,cap topic makes remember this time a friend and I - once upon a time - whilst visiting Munich, cracked up something awful (somebody also just might have spiked our drinks with psychedelics) because of all the funny hats with feathers, which always seemed to live a life of their own, the feathers shaking hysterically in symphony with their hilarious Bavarian wearers. Hat-wearers of the world beware: Have a good look in the mirror and try to imagine how your hat might mis-behave under certain circumstances.

I might have mentioned previously (and then deleted that specific strain of thought accidentally), that one of the first questions here at school is of course "why are YOU learning Russian?" So, after dreaming of strange gifts of fish and live squid - which actually screamed when you intended to cook them, bees purposefully injected with deadly venom so that they may sting people and kill them (another very discreet way of getting rid of people?) - I really MUST get exorcised some time - where was I? Yep, after highly explosive Jungian dreaming (no wonder I look drop-dead awful in the morning!) -  I lay in bed realizing that after learning numerous languages, I still don't really communicate all that well when push comes to shove. Maybe my old friend C. is right by saying that I have autistic tendencies? That might explain a lot, actually. I remember so well a holiday (which ended quite prematurely) in Bergamo, Italy, where I was staying on a farm at friend's family, visiting one of his countless aunts, whilst finishing off the xth coffee and grappa, I broke one thing or another. Not a Ming Vase as far as I can remember, but confused as I was at the moment the words "mi dispiace" or "scusa" or similar just evaded me, so I just kept looking at the shards on the floor, willing them to re-glue themselves together. That did not work, and later in the evening my friend gave me a lecture on "how can you, pretending to speak so many languages, not even say I'm sorry"?!! Yeah well, go ask Elton John about that. Which sort of was the beginning of events which made this a very short holiday. And they made me hitchhike to Milan!

Getting ready for the day. Must go and register, which is compulsory on the first working day upon arriving in Russia. Yesterday having been a national holiday, this would be today, and I have classes at noon. Considering my proclivity for behaving oddly and conspicuously, I better not be illegal in any way.

Victory Day - День Победы

Last night, we had dinner at the спб, (http://www.barspb.ru). Huge, smoke filled student club on the second floor. Not predominantly a restaurant, but a bar featuring numerous beers, and fun paper table mats in the manner of newspapers advertising specific events, and stories about beer, with lots of English expressions in Cyrillic, which makes it fun to decipher.

Very young crowd, all sitting in front of huge drinks, and the specialty being beers, most groups get 3l containers with taps in the middle of their table, from where they refill their own glasses. I loved my Russian, unfiltered beer. Very yeasty. At the next table, two girls kept ordering bread sticks with a kind of dip, so we got curious and ordered some too, after dinner. They were actually quite tasty, dark fried bread sticks, mildly crunchy and really good with drinks or beer. What a great idea! Unthinkable that no one offers this kind of simple but slightly salty and yummy apéro or snack in Europe! One could simply call it "Russian Bread Sticks", which ought to make people want to try - не правда? (nie pravda = right?). Which brings me to this morning's word du jour: I remember vividly as a child there was often talk of "the official Russian party newspaper "Pravda" (Truth) in the news. Easy word to remember.

After dinner, a heated discussion about tipping or no tipping started. Two of us just felt like tipping the young overwhelmed waiter Vladimir with the unfortunate haircut, who catered to us with undiminished patience and always a friendly smile during our two-hour stay, but some felt that was not good for the system, as they did not expect a tip. Having jobbed as waiter myself in my early years, I remember having appreciated tips not only for the money's worth, but as a sign of appreciation from customers who I felt were happy with my service. Plus it is true that on"good days" it would be great to end your day with hurting feet and (in my case usually a very dirty white waiter's uniform), but with a big "Trinkgeld" (we call tips "money for drinking" in German) in the "Portemonnaie (Schwyzerdütsch = " wallet). Though of course nobody wants to offend people in Russia. The schools information letter mentions that people rendering services do not expect tips, but we decided to check back whether that one is free to choose, or whether indeed it is discouraged. Definitely something to ask the teacher today. Class starting in half an hour, thus better showered and dressed now.

...after class (and extensive visit to the town center, market, and quitte a crowd because of День Победы (Victory Day), which is celebrated today, May 9. Feedback from the study coordinator and my teacher: Tipping is fine, just not expected or compulsory, but of course it is appreciated.

Quote study coordinator: "Read your second post. About tipping, in the letter I wrote that it is not necessary to tip our drivers or so. In restaurants or bars it is common to give 5 to 10% tip on the total bill amount. It is even so (unlogically) that the higher amount, the higher percentage of the tip... (if you go to very expensive places, then tipping 10-15% or even 20% is normal); the logic behind is that richer people can tip more, than normal people."

Glad we cleared that up, because myself and others I have met here just like to tip when service is good and friendly. Speaking of which: We went to a phone shop to get my SIM card working, and the staff was very helpful, also with my friend who was looking for a connecting cable, which they did not sell, but happened to have lying about. After telling us he could not sell it, the shop assistant came up to us after we had already left the shop and just gave my friend the cable. Such things just make your day! So happily we dove down into the metro station, and the downward trip on the elevator stairs seems to be endless. It is true that the crowds do seem a bit sinister in the beginning, and most people don't really look at you, but rather at their feet or the ground, which might strike as unfriendly at first sight, but it is a relaxed crowd, even today, with all the festivities going on. People seem less unselfconscious than Western Europeans, where sometimes it feels like everybody and their mother is preparing themselves to appear on the X Factor or some other talent show.

Lunched in a crowded and busy Egyptian snack bar. Tasty and again, very friendly. Also, I was on my best behavior today and until the very end of our excursion nothing untoward happened. After a lot of shopping of course Swiss Borat forgot half of the bags at the cashiers' but again a security guy ran after me and told me to go get it. Большое спасибо! Thanks a lot, security guy. Then, while we were sitting outside relaxing and having some juice, another guy came up to me and I thought he wanted me to empty the trolley, so in a hurry I obviously spilled my fruitjuice over all the bags, but all things considered, that is not too much clumsiness for a whole day, really. Walked home with heavy, sticky bags on feet of fire.

Oh and the first class went very well. Thank goodness my teacher Mascha is very structured which is ideal for me, as I tend to jump all over the place. Though after a whole morning of class, my head gave off smoke signals.

Second Day

Still struggling with blog technicalities, seem to have deleted second entrance twice - grrr!

Thus, short version. After deciding to cut short my day of doing nothin' and just lazing on a Sunday afternoon, I eventually ran out of herring and thus ventured out to the shops. There had the brilliant idea of shooting some pics with my iPhone of signs, foodstuff and other quirky writings, which obviously greatly annoyed the security guy, who made quite a fuzz about it and made me delete the pictures. Guess he was thinking I was an industrial spy. Sorry about that, guess Aldi, Migros, AH, Lidl and consorts would not have much appreciated some Russian guy shooting pictures in their shops.

Well being arrested on some blunder on my first day in new territory would not be something new indeed, but I do try my best to avoid this. It's just as some of you know i AM a terribly clutz and Swiss Borat.

Off to dinner with my mates here in a bit, ending my day of procrastinatin' and doing nothin'.

Word of the day: закрыто (closed). I thought it had its roots in "Sacristy"  a "closed" room in chuch, though according to Wiki, that is totally misguided on my behalf:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sacristy

NB: ALL your feedbacks are and would be greatly appreciated! 

First Day in St. Petersburg - and Russia- EVER

Actually, that was yesterday, so this is retrospection. Just one warning or let's say instruction on how to read this blog: Whatever is in normal script should be more or less objective, or at least me trying to describe more or less truthfully. In italics however, will be my - presumably more or less evil or nonsensical - thoughts, which may not be very realistic, or even remotely truthful, please do keep in mind - especially if in italics you might quite horrible or vicious. PURE FICTION, OK?! - so don't go calling the cops or bombarding me with lawsuits for all things in italics. Thanks you!

Thus, turned out that my apprehensions of arriving at the "great unknown", which Russia was for me until yesterday, were moot and quite unrealistic. Also, the "instruction letter" issued by the the language school was meticulous and right to the point, so arriving at the airport, going through customs, picking up the mobile phone (which in Switzerland we actually call "handy") SIM card and meeting the driver was all rather a "déja-vu" experience, albeit a very nice one. Everything worked as if rehearsed. Well, except that the SIM card I bought at the arrivals hall at Pulkovo 2 is obviously too big for my iPhone, but it seems one can go to the town center, where there will be  phone shops with English speaking people who will cut down the card (manually - I wonder?), to iPhone size. So before the driver arrived to pick me up (right on time and as scheduled), I had already drawn some Rubles from the ATM and purchased the SIM card. Nice, smallish airport.

Upon arrival at the flat, which I currently share with a Dutch retired ophtolmologist - thank goodness, I don't seem to be disproportionately old  - and an Aussie. In the other flat are currently a very young, recently graduated psychologist from Sheffield, England, and a Tyrolian diving instructor who actually speaks Romantsch! besides numerous other languages.  I first understood her saying she was a driving instructor and thought my do they ever look and behave different in Tyrol than ours in Switzerland, because they are very tan, and do we have polylingual driving instructors...? Afterwards she corrected me and clarified that she actually lives mostly on the Seychelles and has clients from all over the globe. Therefore her need to learn Russian "to better communicate with my clients" now made much more sense. I mean how many Russians do learn how to drive in Tyrol?

Oh and for future students here: Flat is simple and a bit on the small side, but seems very clean and things work.

So after shopping for the bare necessities, which in my case obviously included about two pounds of cured herring and mussle salad - or is it muscle salad? nahh, can't be!  - we went out and had a spot of dinner at the restaurant near the Приморская metro station. We must have driven the waitresses absolutely bonkers with our first attempts at deciphering the menu and ordering in Russian. Well, they took it all with a smile which might or might not have been just a teeny bit forced. Food was fine, and my first Russian (Siberian) beer great. Oh and smoking is still allowed in restaurants. Hallellujahpraizethegoddess the neopuritans have not have taken over here just yet and turned it into Stepfordwife territory as they have the rest of Europe??!!

I have been warned. Green lights for pedestrians do not necessarily mean no cars. So my first intuition was: Great - jaywalking is cool! And the locals do jaywalk, but it seems foreigners should not, as they might be hassled by the police for doing so. Pity, as it is such a great way of getting rid of people who get on your tits: jaywalking at the last second before a car comes a-racing, thus having them follow you blindly and legally killed - even in front of hundreds of witnesses. You might not wanna do this with children as somehow others might want to hold you morally responsible then. Also, a bit messy.

But that's neither here nor there: Fact is, I  kept bumping into things and people on our way back from the restaurant, as I have this obsession of deciphering all the posters and boards on the street in Cyrillic script which still takes forever so I usually keep reading with my head turned side- or backwards.

Early night in with lots of herring and Russian telly. As in Poland, Russian TV voice-over literally is a voice spoken in Russian simultaneously over the original whatever language. That may turn out helpful later, though right now all I can pick out are a few words.