Day 9-11: Proper Heads Down stuff starts....trivial post..

Day 9: September 12^th

Had to go and get some money for the landlady...bit of a misunderstanding about rent, which kinda reduced me to tears the day before. In the rain. Which is rather refreshing. The only consolable thing yesterday was that I could spend a few hours away from there just so that I didn't seem to be this wreck, and Eliza Doolittle (that Rollerblades song. Like Jack Johnson had done a few years ago, it just chilled me out, if briefly)

Got some fuck-off massive headphones and played that song down into town and then once I'd got everything, headed back to the flat....and the maniac Russian drivers that go past splash me halfway up my thighs, down to my feet. And I am wearing jeans and tiny flats. The traffic here is a bit mental, as I'd said before. And this, apparently, isn't altered by weather. I wonder what it's like during fog. At the moment, it's a bit disastrous – I am left wet and miserable.

Lyuda wants to leave the house to escape her work, so we go to a Chinese restaurant just 15mins walk away from the flat, where I was handed a yellow marigold (which is nice, in theory, though it's yellow which, by Russian tradition, means that the man is going to leave you. Though this is for my own good – otherwise, my standards sound low). While there, we piss about laughing and order food etc. I am told to play 'Durak' (fool) but not HOW to play it, which sorta angers Lyuda's mother that I'm not 'thinking for myself' – the reason being that I have not been taught all the rules, and Lyuda's mother had not wanted to even begin learning poker - HOW and WHY!!! So we play Durak and Lotto (BINGO!) which is good for me learning numbers, in needing to recognise numbers immediately when shopping when the masses get a bit annoyed by ALL THESE FOREIGNERS

Off to bed with a stinking headache and sleepy sleep, first lesson the next day....

Day 10: September 13^th

I don't really remember this day, not gonna lie. We've been told to do Russian presentations, to perform to Russian students who are going to do the same but in English (I don't much like the idea of this, but yes yes, cool...) and we do grammar with Natasha....not a very busy day, as I am now trying to work lots etc and be the good student my mother imagined me to be....mirite?

We're also given a short passage by Chekhov to do (wicked.) and I'm given my teaching stuff from Roman, for friday, which is massiiiive, lots of little sheets and a little booklet to work from. I forget what he said I had to give them for homework. I don't even know if there is homework – the students might benefit from getting the most senile of the six of us Durham students, who forgets things from minute to minute. We shall see. I wouldn't want me as a teacher, not the way I am at this moment in time anyway.

Day 11: September 14^th

Lesson 1: let's discuss Maria Sharapova which is a little boring and I zone out at points to 'design' dresses and draw.

Go for lunch, very nearly late for a lesson which I've left the work that we had to prepare at home for – not a good start. Have to say the stereotypes that we have thought up about Russia – many of them being 'cold' and 'vodka' and 'bears' – understandable – among others. I kinda drift in and out of the lesson, and see how many Harry Potter characters I can list in the 45minutes we have in the rest of the class (very very dreadful of me and a waste of time, especially due to the fact that whenever I was asked anything – 'uhhhhh...') I feel rather guilty as it was actually the lesson that got us talking the most. It was valuable.

Been told that I can't enter the house until 6pm, as no one is at home – and I have no key – so I head to the coffee house to read the rest of Harry Potter 7 (loser – this entry makes me sound like I don't have a life outside Harry Potter....) which I am reading, and translating, at the moment. Skim skim skim through it and head back on the metro, which is a bit packed, wait for the next and go home, eat and FLOP, early night sleep (Sleep for about 16hours, very on and off, and with peculiar dreams about having a little black girl who I was parent to (not biologically. I don't even understand.), partying in college, owning a dog that tried to jump off a bridge, which the child also tried to do, amongst other things that I've now forgotten....

Catch-Up Blog Entry

Before you have given up all hope on reading Russian travels (that's directed to all THREE of you who may or may not be reading this), I have actually been keeping track of *most* of what has been happening, I especially have things about the museums and famous sights I've been to - but as my internet and laptop access was low, I had been scribbling down in the back of diaries, little sheets of note paper, before buying this baby, from the famous 'Дом Книги' (Dom Knigi - Book House), because my blog, as is diary writing, is very important, as well as the diary itself being beautiful and including some of the work of the artist, Иван Билибин (Ivan Bilibin) inside. A beautiful hardback

ANYWAY before I blather on anymore - it's all written down, keep your eyes peeled for entries to come (but don't necessarily be ready to read them all, I talk far too much)!

Day 8: The Eleventh Of September

Nine years since the twin towers came down. It's so strange, I remember it was my first week of secondary school. I'm not sure many would forget where they were when it happened. Back then, it hadn't really hit me what had happened but since it happened, I have been reading about it, and have seen a couple of the films about it; one was a bit bad, but ok (mainly bad because it had Nicolas Cage in it, someone who I passionately and actively hate) and another with a lot of unknown actors, which hit hearts even harder. It depicted the plane that many people, also I, had no prior knowledge about. The only flight that, to our knowledge, had people who fought against the aggressors. It was only unfortunate that they hit back so late into the trip, otherwise all its victims might not have perished. It showed so much courage and when I saw the film, when I was seventeen or eighteen, it reduced me to tears to watch.

It's quite remarkable how it has affected people on the wide scale. Worldwide, whether we knew victims or not, were reeling in shock over this, as we watched the planes, from all over the world, as one – I don't know if it's just because I was so young when it happened (I was 11) but it made me more aware of terrorism, and opened airports eyes, far too much in a way, to the precautions that they felt needed to be taken on even domestic flights. You couldn't even take vaseline on a flight without taking it in a sealed plastic bag and showing it before the people who x-ray your hand luggage (I don't know the technical term). Yes, it's really irritating, but I'd rather know the precaution was there – if I've got no liquids or whatever on me, then why would it be hectic for me? Yes, something could still happen, but seeing people get checked, yeah I'm fine with that...I don't mind being checked. The woman in front of me, in Gatwick, made an awful fuss about it, and it's like – well if you had not put so much jewellery on, to go through the x-ray thing (just, so unnecessary), then what do you expect? It's not like it's sprung on you when you get in there. I want to feel safe to be honest, not a repeat of nine years ago; I'm sure she would too.

Anyway, getting back to my point – it opened everyone's eyes to that which we didn't know prior to the fatal flights. It, for me, is the ultimate attack of simple civilians taking multiple lives into their own hands – if ever the 'falling man' is mentioned, you know instantly who is being talked about. It will remain as an icon of changing a nation, the world. Even now in Russia, people remember the day and where they were on that day. It marked active attacks, people not being able to feel safe on public transport – on any transport – and that wrong time and wrong place, and you could be the fatality being pulled out of rubble.

Another of the worst things that I'd have to go through – and I hate to illustrate this with reference to a film that does not involve terrorism – is making the call to loved ones. During United-93, in scenes on the flight, you see many people get out their mobiles and ringing people to tell them that they may be ok, but if not, they love them, and also that the people on the flight are planning a coup against the hijackers – some hope is restored, but what's to say that other people had not tried the same, before they perished in a flight, taken over by terrorists? In Love Actually, during the opening lines, Hugh Grant (another loathed yet popular figure) narrates that the calls made on the fatal flights were all messages of love. Watching this in the film United 93 hit me with emotion – imagine being on the other end of the line. Knowing that this might be the last time you talk to your sister, mother, father, brother, best friend etc. I can't even imagine what I'd do without many people who surround me, I'd freak out moreso knowing that their death is imminent, not leaving me time to accept it – that must be the worst for the relatives of those killed on those fatal flights. 

They are remembered each year on September 11th, at Ground Zero, where people congregate to mourn the dead – it's an amazing gesture, and brings people together but by no means is any compensation for the victims. I have to know that friends got back alright after a night out, which is much more comforting because if they're in trouble on the way back, you may have the chance of helping them – you can't even imagine how helpless someone travelling on a flight must feel, in that situation, and particularly the receivers of the victims' phone calls. That the people on that one flight, United 93, knew that they could fight back (whether they ended up dead or not) is one of the bravest things to do. That they got into the cockpit, having agreed amongst themselves that they would collectively attack the hijackers, is just remarkable and courageous. At that point, I would probably have accepted death and found myself helpless to doing anything. Therefore their relatives, although irreversibly hurt beyond my imagination, can at least be proud that those that they knew went down bravely fighting.

Day 7: 10th September

This is the first day of teaching for me, so I awake quite 'ahhh. So this is all real now. What if they turn on me?!' - bit excited but a bit panicked.

I start with breakfast and watching 'Judge Hour' with Pavel Astakhov, a brand new crush – lol. He is like the 'Judge Judy' of Russia, except that he is set before these arguing Russians, and behind him, he has an eagle between two huge Russian flags. I watch this with great interest...mainly because of the totty controlling these mad angry Russians...Bit of a silver fox.

павел астахов, <<час суда>>
Pavel Astakhov, 'Court Hour'

Anyway, head to the lesson with Roman about literature – the same as the other lessons, 'tell me about yourself, where you come from' etc etc – a very mellow lesson that I sort of don't remember, I was still a bit nerve-wracked by the lesson I was teaching...vote of confidence before I go in, as Natasha tells me to dress like a teacher and not in the red tights, bright flowery thing and my farmer hat that I have on. Oops. I have nothing 'teacher'-y, only jeans. Maybe I should go with that? Who knows. Oh and I have sparkly make-up on – not strictly teacher-ish, but I want to look like I've made an effort...

Roman tells me not to worry anyway, as everyone comes into the class quite positively, but thinking 'who is this woman' and they all sit down (Roman is still with me, thank goodness). 'So this is Helen, take it away Helen' Oh oh, ok here it is....I tell them to go round the room telling me about themselves – what they study, where they live, how old, what they like doing in their free time, if they want to go to Britain – you know, the kind of stuff you are asked in language lessons at school. The levels are varied but some of them are completely shy. They are also much younger than I thought – about 17/18 and one 20 year old. Aaaanyway, from here, I tell them about myself, about Durham, blah blah... then I am subject to questions from them. This could turn out badly...

-What kind of music do you like? - I forget. I tell them Lady Gaga and Spice Girls. So they now think I have a 10 year old mind. They roll their eyes more at the Lady Gaga though, surprisingly!

-Is it true that in England, you have to drink tea at 5 o'clock everyday? - after giggling (oops) at the stereotype I answer 'no no no no, that's not true...although I spend lots of my time drinking tea.' Oops.

-Is it true that football is the only sport in England? - no, not necessarily...there's also rugby, particularly in Wales. But even though I'm welsh, I love football and understand it more than rugby. Oops. Strike two of giving into the British stereotype

-Is it true that in England all the old ladies dress like the queen?' - I can only say no. There is no way of justifying otherwise.

-Does everyone in England think that in Russia, bears walk down the streets? - I didn't quite know what to say to this, as I don't know how to explain this in Russian – I was told of bear-baiting in the past but didn't want to seem backward by saying that. But explained that Hugo had found a bear outside the Hermitage. Maybe, maybe. Also their president's name means 'of the bear'. Should've pointed this out.

-what do you think of American politics, about Afghanistan? Probably the best question I've had (barring the bear one of course.) Explain that I don't want troops to be out there still, but that what they have started must be finished.

-what do you think about English politics? And David Cameron? - David Cameron. LOL. I can't remember what I said but I remember saying I don't like David Cameron, but I think the coalition is gonna be good...

-what did you know about Russia before you came over? I don't tell them, but not an awful lot. Just basically stick to the stuff they told you in university and what your parents' preconceptions were, yes? Any of the 'scary stuff', blame it on your friends, say that they were the ones who told you....

Many other questions are asked that I either answer or try to, I throw a few back at them about russian politics, their ideas about America and Britain and then round it up, among other subjects, say thanks and goodbye, and some thank me as they go – they seem pretty sweet. There are about 15 of them (one is absent), all engineers and Roman says it was all alright.

Following this, I head to Coffee House. Not really drinking in Russia, but go and have a cocktail to celebrate the end of the week and getting a good group of students to teach.

Day 6: 9th September

Somebody peed in the lift.

Today will probably be university then nothing to report for the rest of the day, as I will be in the Coffee House updating my blog and uploading photos (as, I don't think the signal in the flat is that good for internet – it's ok for reading news, or talking on facebook chat (JUST) but not really anything else...)

Oh but before this happens, I leave the house, get in the lift, go down, go back up on having realised I've forgotten my diary (which is crucial, as it is the only thing that holds which classes I have and (rarely) the room numbers. Oh and it has my scribbles that I am now blogging up. ANYWAY, I head back, Люда comments that at least now, I have come back before getting on the metro, and that it is good that I think now, I will have everything (let's hope.)

And I got back into the lift, and during that 3 minutes, someone had pissed in the lift. It might have been a dog I guess. Hoping to God that it's not human anyway, urgh – a dog, I could just about bear...

After uploading and drinking lots of tea (...again), I grab the metro back. My train is PACKED. I have no seat, I am boiling (as it is so much more humid on the underground, especially when you have about 5 people around you using you as a wall, and no space to move. I accidentally fell into a seated woman's legs slightly, as I was nearly falling over. She KICKED me and glared at me. Oh, sorry love, that I am disturbing your comfort, would you rather stand up and be leant on for a while? Maybe you can bring out the fucking daggers for them.

Oh I also got groped a little by a man (sorta like an 'oops, my hand just accidentally went all up your body as I was grabbing this arm-holder so that I don't fall into you moreso' thing) ugh. I think it's because of the clothes I wear, I'm not sure. He proceeds to elbow me on the million-foot-long escalator too. I love the metro, still, after feeling whored out enough for the day, head back to the flat...

Bit of an unpleasant day.

St Petersburg Metro

I have to leave to get to uni about 50minutes or so before I have to be there. About 10mins of this is spent on the metro, about 25mins walking there and the rest is spent in the metro, on many escalators, or walking up and down steps and then eventually coming out at either сенная площадь (Sennaya Square) and московский проспект (Moskovsky Prospekt (Moscow))

You can't take photos or videos on the metro, but I have found this video which shows you just how massive the escalators are that you have to go onto to get into and out of the trains - the metro stations are so deep, as some of the stations go under the River Neva. I would put up a picture, but the video will show you more.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VrpbYFFTkC4

Day 5: 8th September

Wednesday, and sometimes thursdays (every other week) - today I just had to go and get my visa lengthened (which doesn't really happen, as I have to go back again in a few weeks - thank goodness, as the photos they took make me look a bit boss-eyed and like I'm spending my first day without the men in white. So I can re-do them, thankfully). I then get completely lost in the university and I, giggling, tell a woman that I've no idea where I'm going.

I've realised how IRRITATING and so very Western this is - you laugh at bumping into someone by accident. You laugh at getting lost - why do we laugh politelyat these things when, in all honesty, it isn't even the slightest bit funny? It doesn't need to be entertaining - do as the Russians do, keep it cool...
I go to the coffee house after being led out the correct way, out of the university, and head for the coffee house (which, at the moment, is my place to update my blog, talk to friends and family, drink litres of tea and sometimes eat - that day I have a baileys coffee and a sandwich (embracing the culture through irish liquers? Um.)

I tend to head for the cafes just to, as I might have said already, get my bearings - to be able to find out where you are while standing in the middle of the street, holding a map which is bigger than you, is a skill that I have not yet mastered. Do it inside, where the people know you're english anyway (because you can't even order without them realising you're not from around here) - nevertheless I go and wander, find that I might very soon get lost....then I spot a golden spire in the distance...well apart from getting horrifically lost, there is no fear, let's visit see anyway.. - I head into a bar, have a shot of vodka (русский стандард - Russki Standard, why not), burning mouth. Oops. I realise that that is a very STEREOTYPICAL image of settling into Russia. Oops. Again. Do not drink the russian shots by themselves unless you love vodka/the taste of paint stripper - Russian measurements are 50ml a shot, a far more generous shot than British shots and going one step further than the Irish shots...

So, I leave the bar, head for the same spire - which is 'St Issac's Cathedral', which is opposite a serene green, that I think is called Alexander's Garden. There, there are a lot of headstones, including Lermontov (who we studied about last year in literature) among other writers, and a great fountain in the middle. Wandered around a little..took photos etc, as is the norm...and over the road, when I reach the end of the garden, there is a huge pale green building (seems familiar but can't put my finger on it - in hindsight, a very ridiculous thing to hear from a Russian student,oops), and a huge square that looks like a nelson's column in the middle (obviously not a nelson's column - must put the disclaimer here, as people think I'm as thick as I look :) ). OH AYE - it's the Hermitage. It is so beautiful. The gold and the white, that outline the windows, are just stunning. I cannot believe how vast the square is as well - totally amazing... One thing to cross off the list

Horses and Carriage outside the Hermitage

Hermitage

Bridge, Hermitage
popping through

Pevchesky Bridge

I may have also found St Catherine's statue but must first consult the map...I forgot about this little detail - I will put up pictures at some point..
So I go round a few roads - having now consulted the map, as I discover that something that I am desperate to see in Petersburg, is just a tiny little walk away.....hm, I am fantastic by getting lost - hello, Church on Spilled Blood! I have not yet been inside, but plan to in due course (when my funds are up...) First reaction - holy christ! (I'd probably be not welcome there. DO NOT USE THE LORD'S NAME IN VAIN!). I'd seen pictures of it and thought...'yes I can see myself falling in love with it...', it was quite overwhelming. The photos I've taken of it don't even nearly do it justice, it is the most beautiful thing I think I've ever seen.

It's situated next to a little body of water and one of these little bridges as well (that you have to cross to get to pretty much any part of the city). You can completely see why it's called the 'Venice of the North' - little bridges are surrounded by beautiful slender buildings, between which you can see (e.g.) other buildings. Also, under these bridges, you can go in tour boats, which take you under the road, and, I suppose, through much of the city, due to the abundance of bridges in the city.

Bridge near Sadovaya

Once I've taken too many photos, I head for a place to sit down at - a place called 'The Other Side - Gastro Bar and Refuge', which is between Nevsky Prospekt and the church, down one of those little lanes. It is quite a dark little bar, a little underground, that prides itself on its homemade cocktails, invented by the barmen there. I like that, I am so fed up of generic cocktails - margueritas, mojitos, pina coladas, that kinda thing....my point is, this was a new experience. I try two cocktails - a 'King Louie' - the cocktail could not have been worse for me. Barcardi, lemon, malibu, is what I saw that went into that drink - add cider, and you've probably got everything I hate, in one glass. Shit man - and a 'White Cloud' - more vodka... Though I like the experimentation. I am in Russia, an alien country, I am having cocktails that I am guessing what they have in them - how much of this given situation sounds bad?

There is a cocktail there called 'drink me'. This sounds a bit deceptive. Although, I don't understand its name - with cocktails, or even any type of liquid, you're bound to drink it (except the obvious like...I dunno, petrol and bleach..)...Tempting nevertheless...

There I also talk to some american and a canadian car manufacturers- this was probably the aspect I liked most about this bar - in coffee shops, you get stared at, whereas in the smaller bars and cafes, people will talk to you from across the other end of the bar, similar to locals in UK. Definitely a friendly place. I grumbled that too many little bad things were happening at once, and got told to get some REAL problems and just to enjoy yourself while you're out in Russia (so so true. Then again, I have always been melodramatic...) The two men tell me that they know Cardiff and proceed to tell Hitler jokes and talk about a film 'Boys of Brazil' where someone clones Hitler babies or something, following a conversation about men not being able to multi-task. Yep, the audience for humour definitely does not change from place to place - Hitler still seems to be a hit in the comedy world... But yeah I suppose, Hitler is a perfect example of why you should not incessantly grumble (I may have quite a lot to learn...)

Tiring but fantastic day - as Wednesdays are my free days, I plan to have many days like this.