Diary of a Global Nomad

2002-10-23T13:14:00.000Z

I came to the library (where I am now, supposedly working after my morning lectures with a really great american guy who rounded off his lecture with 'Ciao!', ha ha, and another session at the gym....awwww) and I swear I smelled Russia. I breathed in and there it was - if I closed my eyes I could have been back in Moscow. Scary. It turns out though that I wasn't mysteriously transported back to Russia - just that I am sitting next to a smelly Russian. Phew. I will just breath into the roll neck of my lovely new jumper.

It has been a day for Russia phobias it would seem - even early this morning I couldn't bring myself to get on the bus because there were too many people on it and it would have been too worryingly like Russia. Instead I waited in the cold for twenty more minutes until an emptier bus came along, in doing so making myself late for my lecture - one of my biggest fears. Is this normal to want to not live remember Russia so much?! Maybe not. I should seek counselling!

The hard part is the fact that I cannot really forgot and push the nightmares away because I still have one more year of this degree, and Russian plays a third of it. Actually it probably only is about twenty weeks left in total, taking into consideration all the holidays we get. And it is going fast. All the weeks seem to be passing by in one big blur, I am already only a week and a half away from my mid-term break. Worrying. More worrying is the fact that I have made no concrete plans to do anything exotic. Will need to get on the case, in amongst the studying of course.

There's a lot on, but it is interesting and varied - from post Stalinist Soviet cinema to French Womens studies to European Integration studies - so I am happy. I still never managed to find a decent time to blog, or to blog anything interesting. I need to re-think this whole blogging thing maybe, or put it on hold. Oh maybe I can go on strike. I am spending a lot of time with French people at the moment and so I am inspired to strike. What for?! Do I need a reason?! I am almost French... Ha Ha! No! It was starting to worry the Scandinavian in me (I even turned down watching a Swedish movie with the ScanSoc to go for drinks with the frenchie, hmmmm) but then I think I am on track again. Like the true scot I am, I have been eating porridge every morning. And as for the wannabe scandinavian inside.... Well,0 I got a parcel in the post from the man in Gothenburg and it inspired me again. It was jampacked with all things on Western Sweden (specifically Gothenburg) for my Swedish class presentation... Here is another worrying fact, I am looking forward to making a presentation. What a geek...

Anyway, I have a choir rehersal again. We are singing in Bath Abbey on Sunday evening and it is a bit of a big deal. Wish me luck?!

2002-10-15T15:59:00.000Z

In true British style (see, I really am British) I shall start off with the weather...

It is AWFUL. There is no other way to describe it other than this, or perhaps dreadful. It has not stopped raining in days and has become really quite cold and windy and miserable and grey and ugh, it is just horrible. I have jumped from wearing a light summery jacket to my heavy winter coat because it has a hood to protect myself from all the rain and falling wet stuff that has a tendancy to land on my head. Nasty. My feet are cold and my mood is bleak and, although I gleefully looked out my mittens and hat and scarf, I had hoped that the Autumn would last a bit more than those two weeks before Winter kicked in. This is really it, I am already into Winter. Where is the time going?!

Am a bit stressed out about that, there seems to be so much to do and so little time. I had thought that the Final Year would be fine, somebody once told me that if you did all the work they give you, you would be fine. It is just that there is so much work to do. Or maybe it is because I spent my first two years of university doing nothing. To attend all my classes, complete all the projects and read all the books I feel I should seems like an awful lot and I am swamping through it. It is hard work to actually work.

But fear not, it is not all studying and stressing out that has been consuming my time at the moment. I did have a great long weekend...

Friday evening I went to the cinema with the new guy in my class (French-Yugoslavian, he is over here on exchange from uni in Paris and has walked into the 1st Rugby team) to see the Red Dragon. Wow. Beautiful film. It was scary and freaky and did make me go 'eeeeeek' quite a few times throughout but it was good. Star-studded cast, good story line and bla bla, I am starting to sound like Jonathon Ross of Film whatever year it is now fame so I will stop there. How boring to tell you about my weekend in detail. I shall cut to the chase. My brother came to visit and last night we walked down memory lane, visited the eighties and went to see A-Ha in concert!!!

Two times in once year, first in Moscow and then in Birmingham. It is not like I am a big A-Ha groupie or anything (well maybe slightly) but my brother happened to buy the tickets for me and well, who am I to refuse the chance of seeing Morten Harket?! It was an excellent evening. The music was fantastic and those guys keep getting cooler by the day. We had great seats, I was within fifty feet of the man himself, but I don't think that was why it was so great compared to the Moscow concert. I think what was so great was that the ambiance was so very different. In Moscow the concert seemed almost subdued and they hardly spoke - perhaps because Russia is one of these countries where everything works in the home language and who is going to bother to learn Russian to talk to the audience?! I probably would but I am one of those exceptions, a person who likes to learn languages when they go on holiday (whilst my sister was sunning herself by the pool in Bali, I was in the shade learning a bit of Indonesian) and so I can understand why the only word Morten H, or any of the other band members mentioned at the Moscow concert was Spasibo / thanks.

Last night though... there was atmosphere and I generally just think that a British audience is more welcoming than a Russian audience. Again another mark on the negative side of the Russian list. I will make it my homework to think of a positive for tomorrow... In the meantime I have to dash. From one concert to another, only this time I am singing. I have two solos tonight and I am starting to get nervous and nail-bitey. Wish me luck... Break a leg!

2002-10-09T13:53:00.000Z

So, I know it has been a long time... What can I say?! I am busy and so my blogging habits have become sporadic. I have been doing good things though, like being sick (it has to be done asap so that I can enjoy the gorgeous Autumn that is just starting to get into swing with its misty mornings and crip sunny afternoons, ahhhh) then recovering from the 'freshers flu' (and seriously I never went anywhere near a fresher) and then getting back into some kind of a routine. It has been a whirlwind of filling in forms for my department and trying to remember how to be a student again - the transition has been a bit tough. Then there are all the people. Wow, I had forgotten about all these people that I know... Then there are new people about, which takes time and energy but has to be done. So, you get my drift?! Things have been a bit chaotic so the emails can stop as to where I have been...

Settling back into Bath life is fantastic, and it has been helped by the wonderful magazine that is 'Bath Life.' Now, as you may already know I am a confessed magazine junkie and so I will read any publication that comes my way. Particularly highly pretentious glossy maqazines - ohhhh. Now Bath life is a bit on the cheesy side, and a bit Town and Country but I have been enjoying that discovery. Hmmm, what else is new?! Well there are all the new bars and restaurants in town...

Did you know that Bath has more bars and restaurants than it does days of the year?! The population is only 100, 000 too! There is also the highest number of Michelin stars in the country in this town, outside London of course. In fact one of the newly opened restaurants is the venture of a Michelin star chef, the new Blini bar. Imagine that... I come all the way back from Russia to be faced with a blini bar! I need to check it out. The most amazing this has happened. Yesterday I actually had a craving for Russian food. This is me, who refused to eat in the last month there because the food was so bad, and I am having cravings! What?! It was probably inspired by a guy in my class who made an oral presentation about Russian cuisine - I could just taste those pilmieni (like the Russian equivalent of raviolli, mmmm) with lashings of sour-cream. Yum!

This is the thing, we have all really gotten to grips with our two countries (the majority of students studiying languges here do joint honors, two languages) and naturally we are all a bit excited. I have been keeping my mouth shut about the neagitve aspects so as not to get up the Russia lovers noses, but my time will come... I have presentations to make myself! There is also the indoctrination of up and coming new students!!! There is so much work to be done actually. Final year, yikes.

On top of that the goddess regime is still running and so I am spending a lot of time devoted to that - I just came back from an hour at the gym and I could have easily fallen asleep but I decided not to. Am pushing myself, will have an early night instead.

Oh and now it is time for a coffee with an old friend, then choir practice and then meeting some friends from my first year halls of residence for a few drinks. Actually I mentioned about the girl from my old school who now studies here. She is in her second year but in the first year she not only lived in my old halls but in the same corridor - it is a small world! Or maybe it's a case of lets send all the kids from Helsinki to level 2, Wolfson?! International halls, they were such good fun. A little chaotic but a lot of fun. I actually really appreciate the vast number of international students we have up here, they really make me smile. I mean just this morning I was on the bus to university for my 9.15 lecture on European Integration (really heavy stuff I must add) and a japanese girl got onto the bus. It was a double decker, on the top deck, and this was obviously a novelty for her as she was beaming the widest smile. It was so nice to see, it made me smile myself and remember how happy I am to be back!

Anyway... I will leave you with one of those email jokes... My sister sent it to me, its about the Earthquake and its devastating effects on the West Midlands town of Dudley. This is a typical example of Brisith Humour - yeah, lets slag off those less fortunate than ourselves. I will emphasise that I dis NOT write this!!! Enjoy anyway... Poka! Tschus! A bientot! Vi syns! Hei hei!

URGENT - DUDLEY EARTHQUAKE APPEAL
At 00:54 on Monday 23 September an earthquake measuring 4.8 on the
Richter scale hit Dudley, UK causing untold disruption and distress -
* Many were woken well before their giro arrived
* Several priceless collections of mementoes from the Balearics and
Spanish costas were damaged
* Three areas of historic and scientifically significant litter were
disturbed
* Thousands are confused and bewildered, trying to come to terms with
the fact that something interesting has happened in Dudley
One resident, Donna-Marie Dutton, a 17 year old mother-of-three said "It
was such a shock, little Chantal-Leanne came running into my bedroom
crying. My youngest two, Tyler-Morgan and Megan-Storm slept through it.
I was still shaking when I was watching Trisha the next morning."
Apparently though, looting did carry on as normal.
The British Red Cross have so far managed to ship 4000 crates of Sunny
Delight to the area to help the stricken masses.
Rescue workers are still searching through the rubble and have found
large quantities of personal belongings including benefit books and
jewellery from Elizabeth Duke at Argos.
HOW YOU CAN HELP
* £2 buys chips, scraps and blue pop for a family of four
* £10 can take a family to Stourport for the day, where children can
play on an unspoiled canal bank among the national collection of
stinging nettles
* 22p buys a biro for filling in a spurious compensation claim
PLEASE ACT NOW
Simply email us by return with your credit card details and we'll do the
rest!
If you prefer to donate cash, there are collection points available at
your local branches of Argos, Iceland and Clinton Cards

2002-09-25T11:55:00.000Z

The weekend was my birthday but the partying lasts all week, and I shall remember the 22nd one for these reasons but also because of my nice birthday surprise. The earth moved, like quite literally!

So the UK was hit by its biggest earthquake in decades, reaching 4.8 on the richter scale. After a quite calm day on my actual birthday (there was work to be done, although with cake on the side) in the evening the wine was cracked open and us girls got down to some serious chit-chatting. About one am the ground started to shake, the sofas moved and the walls wobbled a bit. Could that be the noisy neighbours?! No likely with the sheer vigour of the shake! All sorts of things went running through my head, was it Iraq bombing us or Osama making another attack, a plane crash or had the aliens landed?! Then there was the thought that it was actually an earthquake and that was when we got freaked out. The actual tremor was pretty much over and done with and was not wholly exciting in itself, but the aftermath is. The one thing that is certain and in place for a short time wasn't, and this concept was a little hard to grasp. We got quite upset by it, and were anxious to find out more...

Since then of course the news has covered it, and local talk has been about the 'quake.' It's all a bit exciting really, and I will remember my 22nd birthday with a bit of a thrilling memory... Of course there is also the usual partying going on - my surprise birthday party which I know about is on Satyurday - but I realised that really I must be getting old because I spent all of yesterday complaining.

I went out Monday night, decided to go to the cheesiest club ever and get it OVER NAD DONE WITH. Imagine visiting the inside of a flamingo with a definite eighties feel?! This was the club I went to. Cadillacs. Just awful. The atmosphere was great, with returning students meeting each other after how long?! A year +. It was a whirlwind of hugs, kisses and shrieks of delight - in English, French and Russian. It was a good laugh, for want of a better word, even in the surroundings! Yesterday though I was deaf the whole day and I realised that I may be growing old of the partying until late late. Sleep deprivation and ringing ears are just no longer enjoyable. Sigh!

Yesterday was also a weird day because I encountered a blas from the past, quite literally. A girl from my old school in Helsinki now studies in Bath and she took me by surprise yesterday when she came up to me on campus. Really sweet girl, Swedish speaking Finn, so I was not wholly unhappy to see her one could say... More updates on that later.... I will no doub be reminded of all sorts of silly things, and get to do it in Swedish too. Wow.

As a final note, thanks to the new entires on my guestmap. I was thrilled to see people starting to use it, and I hope that all is well with you guys!

2002-09-20T11:38:00.000Z

So, last night was the night I had dreaded for so long... I was to not only meet the man behind desbladet but also face the dreaded Swedish class.

I was so nervous, but as it turns out all was fine. Des was exactly how I imagined him to be, a slightly offbeat academic with a self proclaimed addiction to buying the most varied of books and a genuine interest for scandywegian princess - you should have seen his face light up with delight when it was the teachers turn to embarras him over his Aftonbladet and Mette-Marit obsession. Classic.

Luckily she (teacher, really nice) doesn't have anything on me... Yet! I think I will manage with the pace, the level was about right and even if there are people in there who have been studying Swedish for 20 years then that can only be a positive thing - they will have to help us mere mortals.

Anyway, I have a hundred and one things to do so I had better go but I thought that I would blog about that moment... Ahhh!

2002-09-18T14:13:00.000Z

So, as I may have mentioned, I am biting the bullet and actually taking a Swedish class. Tomorrow. I am really quite nervous about it...

It has been recommended to me that I shall be put in the higher class. Hmmm, I cannot believe they will let me jump straight to the advanced class; can I be that good?! Maybe I will be in for a shock when everyone is better than me and I will be left behind, feeling like a total idiot for never really using the opportunities I have had. I mean I was in Finland for three years and did it ever occur to me to take a Swedish class?! Dohhh, no. How many times did I go to Sweden?! How many times did I lament over being bored whilst in Sweden?! Oh, regrets regrets.

Hence I am now in a total flip out mood over trying to learn some Swedish in the next 24 hours, and am reciting tongue twisters such as: Sju sjösjuka sjömän sköttes av sju sköna sjuksystrar. This S business, it is a nightmare. It will all be worth it though, surely?!

I have always been a bit ashamed about my Swedish because, frankly, I am lazy and I don't make any concerted effort. I listen to people and I read trash but it is hardly highly sophisticated. People tell me it is very good, convincing and all the rest of that but they would have to say that or I would be offended, right?! Or maybe they are just astounded that anyone from the UK can utter a single word in this language, and even dare to pick up an accent. Ahaaa, this could be it. Definitely my accent is good - whilst in Denmark recently I attempted to speak Danish and the Danish people thought I was Swedish - but although the accent is maybe ok the actual knowledge of words is a little bit on the rusty side, and so I turn again to my anxieties... Vicous circle really...

Anyway, as I was talking about accents... I am taking this class with a fellow blogger Des. As I have been in Moscow and not really in this part of the world in the past while, we have never met, although we have been communicating over our computers. How geek like. Tomorrow though we will meet for the first time, before the class begins. Yikes. To arrange a time and place we spoke on the phone, and Des was surprised to hear that I have a Scottish accent. Well naturally! I am Scottish afterall.

Until recently nobody ever really commented on my accent. I am pretty good at concealing my Scottishness, and although I would always speak at home with my family in a Scottish accent (for fear of being sent up north for corrective therapy, ha ha) at school I would adopt the local accent for where I was. Give me time and someone to copy and I can lapse into West Midlands or Cumbrian accents. For a few years too I had an American twang, with some nasty Scandinavian sing-song bits thrown in for good measure (international school messed it up) and then when I came to university my accent was this basic international accent, so that people could understand me. I remember in Moscow I was chatting to my friend Jemma in a the way I normally would with non-Scottish people and then my brother called me and I lapsed into this weird Scottish accent, so much so she couldn't understand me and thought it was really funny. My brother is 'really' Scottish, my parents too - in fact my Dad is so Scottish sounding that an ex-boyfriend (Swedish) couldn't call my house for the first few months we were dating because he was scared to get my Dad on the phone and would sound like a complete moron for not understunding even the most basic of question. My sister and I though are really not very Scottish, in general. Seriously, put me beside a regular glaswegian if you don't believe me. I will sound very English in comparison. It also helped that I didn't spend so much time in Scotland.

However, in saying all that, I have just been back home for a month. I spent all my time with my family, talking talking talking and so I am really Scottish. I came back to Bath and my friends have been amazed at how Scottish I am sounding, and even at the weekend at work people asked me where I was from in Scotland. Wow. It is nice, I like accents and so I am happy to sound Scottish. I was going to say that my accent will calm down and become more anglicised in the next few weeks but I think I shall have to call my parents more and try keep hold of it instead. Sounds a bit more exotic maybe?!

2002-09-16T14:51:00.000Z

The eagle has landed. That would be me. I am back in Bath. Two weeks have passed since I last blogged, or even looked at a computer and it feels like a life time. So much seems to have happened. It's all a bit of a blur.

Took the plane, followed by a bus and train. Arrived in Bath. Got the keys to my flat, which I had not yet seen, and then promptly fell in love with it and all its surroundings. It's on St James Sq - upmarket, very chic, very cute, georgian architecture all the way, ooozing with history and character. Bliss. Waited for my Dad to get here, unpacked, spent the first night in my new flat. Handed in my dissertation, sighed a massive sigh of relief and then it was off again. Up to Warwickshire to visit family friends I had neglected for four years. Chaos. Retrieved a bag of winter clothes (Moscow left overs), returned to Bath. Spent second night in my new flat, took another train. Spent a lovely few days near/in/around Portsmouth with my friend Sophia (whom I shall be living with in said lovely little flat in gorgeous St James Sq, Bath) and her family, doing all the things we enjoy doing... eating dim sum, lounging in jacuzzi, shopping, drinking coffee, marvelling at nice looking things, staying up late talking and talking and talking, driving around (we test drove the new mini and epitomised a couple of airhead, lipglossed girls in a car garage), swanning around marinas and other such poncy places, and generally being girls. It was glorious. Then it was time to pack up Sophia's car, drive up to Bath and move in - the two of us - finally.

It has been a non-stop rearranging of furniture, trips to the DIY store (another place we totally look out of place), calling up the electricity people, gas, water, phone people - inevitably being put on hold for hours - and more trips to shops to buy such exciting things as extension cables and energy saving light bulbs... greenpeace can get off my back on that one. Oh and I have had a breakthrough with assertion. Bearing in mind I am quite a confident person in most areas of my life, put me in an electrical store and I just melt into ditz mode. It is really quite annoying. Well anyway Sophia and I have become all domestic and decided we should invest in a new washing machine. We did our research and promptly bought a beautiful machine last week, which was supposed to come tomorrow. Yesterday the manager of the shop we bought it from called to tell me that the particular style of machine I had bought somehow had all dissappeared from the warehouse and would I mind having one that looked identical but which had a different spin number. Hmmmm, what does this mean?! I got all flustered and agreed, and the guy probably went home last night laughing. But then today I called the store and said that he shouldn't try pull any wool over my eyes and (after research of course, a phone call to someone in the know) I said that I wasn't going to downgrade without knowing it and that he should pick on someone else. I bargained my way into a partial refund, free delivery and plumbing AND a lovely new, gadgety, super advanced and (best of all) free iron. Did I mention the words girl power?! I am a goddess!!! My machine arrives on Thursday, just before I find my way to Bristol to attend my first ever Swedish class.

Bit nervous about that, but excited naturally. I cannot wait to see what level I am really at and to finally have some kind of grammatical knowledge as opposed to the 'pillow talk' that comes out of my mouth, mixed in with grammar from other languages. It is about time that I really started to take this seriously, started to push myself... It fits with my start of term resolutions.

This is the best thing about being a student, you have two starts of year (calender and academic) and so you can make two sets of resoultions. I am going to try be more studious and work harder, spend less time doing frivoulous things, keep in touch with my friends a bit better, and loose some more weight. Not to mention perfect my French/Russian/Swedish, maybe bring myself back up to scratch on Finnish and learn to wear sensible shoes to work.

Saturday I started my new/old job. I used to work at Racing Green and I loved it, it was the perfect part-time job to go beside my studies - I got to meet loads of people, show off my language skills with the foreign customers and play with gorgeous clothes all day. When I went away (Brussels and Moscow, how could you forget?) my Boss promised to keep my job open for my final year and she, of course, kept this promise and I started back on Saturday. It is different though. We were bought over by a new company and there are new rules and ideas, a completely new cashier system and I don't feel like the old pro I used to be - persuading silly men to buy three cashmere jumpers because it makes them look foxy and things like that. I spent Saturday wandering around, trying to familiarise myself with the new ranges, learning how to do everything the new way and not really being able to help that many people. To boot, and sorry for the pun, I had forgotten that nine hours is a long time and so I had worn a pair of rather high and pointy toed (but naturally fabulous) stiletto boots. What an idiot... So, that is my mission. To either perfect a nine hour shift in this type of shoe, or go flat and comfy. I have every faith that I shall slip into my old ways soon enough, find my feet (what is it about these feet puns?) again. I mean, yesterday I stunned a couple of nouveau Russians by asking them if they would rather have a big bag or a small back, in Russian naturally. You should have seen their faces... "How on earth can someone behind the counter possibly speak Russian?!" And so there I was feeling like Eva Perone, with a smug smug feeling inside. Ahaaaa, I may look the bimbo but... OK, I have to use the Goddess word again - it is my favourite word of the moment.

Naturally I am very happy to be back in Bath. It is such a scrumptuous little place that feeds my pretentious side - I mean, why else would I use a word like scrumptuous?! It is also so small, I don't need to take the metro to get from one end to the next and I am no longer anonymous. I love that. I am quite a sociable person and so to go to the supermarket even and bump into three people you know, well that is wonderful. It can also have its surprises, ghosts of boyfriends past and all that, but all in all I prefer it to Moscow. It is also cleaner and a bit of a warped place, and full of scandywegian people. My ears are tuned to it perhaps but in Homebase (that's the DIY store) there were Swedes, in Waitrose (supermarket) there were Norwegians and today at Toni and Guy (hairdressers) a Finnish guy cut my hair! How funny... I am living back in my warped world, and I have to say I am LOVING it.

Am radiantly happy, life is getting back to normal (well as normal as it ever will be) and there is a lot to do. I am still not hooked up to internet at the flat yet but hopefully this is me back on the scene now... Wohoooooo! I cannot belive I just wrote a blog about nothing other than a pile of nonsense. Oh well. Maybe my sense will regrow with my normal life. One can always hope!

2002-09-01T15:58:00.000Z

Apart from the dissertation dragging on and on, with regards to Russia it is pretty much all fond memories now. I have discarded the toilet paper I brought back as a souvenir (one step away from Sandpaper I tell you) and have been thinking only of the good things. This would be partly due to me going back to uni and having to face my class - I need to have something positive to say about the Motherland or I will be pelted to death by Russian dictionaries - but also for my own sanity. I don't want six months of my life to be some kind of a black hole that I just cannot think about incase the tears come. Oh no. I need for those six months to be some kind of learning experience, and indeed they were. I learned so much more about Russia than I ever could have imagined, and I am chanelling it to greater goods so that I will radiate enthusiasm and not fall into a pit of Russia-hating, which I assure you is easily done.

Things that have helped me over the past month, since I have been coming to terms with this, were the memories of the fun times I had, walking around all the different museums, being wowed by the sheer talent portrayed at the theatre (Bolshoi in particular) and the sense of pride I felt when I actually left. Not to forget just how kind some people were. Right enough, meet the average Muscovite on the street and they will without a doubt grate on you and make you so angry you could spit feathers, but when you get to know a Russian they can be the kindest people in the world. They don't have much, but they are willing to give you everything. My Babushka was a prime example of this. My goodness she drove me NUTS but she was lovely, any time I felt sad she bought me little treats to have and she never once made me feel like a lodger but like a part of her family. It was fantastic, she knitted us mittens too!

Well anyway the reason why I am thinking about this today is because I had emailed this Russian lady about a poem. Basically I had found this poem in English on a web-page about the Metro. I found her contact details and asked if she could possible send me the original Russian version if she had a copy of it, because I wanted to use it in my dissertation and I couldn't find a copy of it, not even in the State library. The poem was from a Russian childrens book and not only did she send me the poem but she scanned the whole of the book and sent me it via email! How lovely is that?! A whole childrens book, with gorgeous pictures and all! Not only was I really touched by her thoughtfulness in spending how long scanning and sending me this but it will be fantastic in my essay! Wow, what a Star that woman is. Hats off to Russian babushkas... AGAIN!

2002-09-01T12:38:00.000Z

Last night I went to see the film Insomnia, which would have been a downright fantastic film had I not seen it before.

So, I was all comfy in my seat, I had my chocolates (maltesers - they're lighter than ordinary chocolates) positioned for a prime time movie watching gobbling sweeties session, the credits had rolled and I was ten minutes into the film when it dawned on me that I had already seen it, either that or I was suffering from a very big, astounding and realistic case of deja-vu. It was the orange curtains that did it for me, the fact that the murder mystery was taking place in the land of the midnight sun. This land though was Alaska, the previous land was Norway. The original film was a film by Norwegian Erik Skjoldbjærg, with the Swedish actor Stellan Skarsgård playing the lead role of the good/bad cop.

That was it... it all came flashing back to me and so I sat there, expecting the inevitable. Right enough I did see the original maybe two years ago and so my memory wasn't too spot-on (afterall the ringing bells would have happened earlier than me actually getting into the film) and so it was enjoyable, still thrilling and a bit intense, but it just wasn't as intense or as gripping as it could have been.

Al Pacino played the lead role, and he was excellent - his face did most of the acting and he really did look sleep deprived. I wouldn't be in a position to compare him to Stellan Skarsgård though. The film was not cut and dry, black and white, and so the roles merged a bit, but the 'bad' guy was played by Robin Williams, which was highly weird. This is the man who I associate with Mrs Doubtfire and Patch Adams... what could he possibly bring to the role of a murderer?! A lot. After the initial typecasting worry he had me convinced, and so all in all the film was good. That nurse from ER was also in it.. Ohhhh!

Thumbs up then to Insomnia - even if you have seen the original, it is still worth going to see! Back to dissertation, again....

2002-08-31T18:26:00.000Z

Dissertation blues... I have not been in the mood to blog. I can read and read but I am not too fussed about writing - afterall I am spending hours writing up my essay. I can always type essays straight off in English no problem but with this dissertation I had to write it first on... paper... and then type it. This might sound like a fairly simple task for someone who is used to typing lots of essays, but the catch is that I am typing in Cyrillic and I STILL don't know the keyboard and so spend hours and hours one finger typing - like six words an hour! It is almost done, and then I hand it in next week when I am in Bath. I took the day off today, if I had to type today my eyes would have gone square, not to mention my legs gone numb with the weight of my dictionary that tends to sit on my lap.

My special treat for the day was packing all my things for Bath. Oh yes! Basically all my clothes, handbags, shoes, books, bedding, cushions, throws, curtains and nik-naks all had to be gathered together and packed into one space before they get put into my Dads car on Wednesday. This is how it works in my house... my Dad drives down, which takes 10 hours, and me and my Mum fly down! It works pretty well, I get really badly car sick and the prospect of even an hour in the car makes me really queasy. And at least this year my Dad only has to drive from Scotland to Bath. In my first year at uni he drove from Helsinki all the way through Finland to Turku/Åbo, ferried across to Stockholm, drove down through Sweden and Denmark and another ferry to England's east coast before driving to the west. Then he had to come back, and it is a long way! Second year my sister was also going to university and so he hired a van and drove from Germany to Bath then up to York. Demanding daughters, us?! Hmmm, well we must get it from somewhere and so I turn to my Mum.

My Mum is the queen of shoes, handbags and clothes... This must be where I take it from. Now that the majority of my clothes are packed up (minus my Winter clothes, which are in layover from Moscow, and my Summer clothes, which will remain here now that Winter is well on its way) I realise just how much stuff I have. It is crazy. I already have a whole load of things stored in Bath and so when I graduate and gather it all together I have no idea how I will get everything all in one place. Oh, it's not worth thinking about. It will have me coming out in a cold sweat about maybe having to throw something away. Let's think about something else...

I'm going to the cinema tonight. I'm going to see Insomnia and I'm really looking forward to it. A night off, away from The Moscow Metro and all its glories. Tomorrow though, back to the grindstone!

2002-08-20T11:05:00.000Z

Time flies when you are having fun. It's just one of those things. Time also flies when you are busy emptying boxes, throwing things away and finishing off ones dissertation. Unfortunately, they are just some of those things also. And so here I find myself having not blogged for nearly one week... shock horror!

Since my last blog about Scottish humour, I have indeed come accross more of the insane stuff that floats inside peoples heads this far north but I thought ít was too much information to let on... if you want to see it you should come up here for yourself! The ideal opportunity for this would be during the month of August, when the Edinburgh festival is on. Now as you should all know, Edinburgh is the capital of this dear little country and it is very cute in a typically Scottish way, with men in kilts and castles dominating the local skyline. It may not be as hip an cool as its little big brother Glasgow (on the Burberry handbag to people ratio Glasgow is far cooler) but it tries very hard to jump up and down and grab some attention, other than just the usual Japanese tourists who pit-stop there in the midst of their tour of the UK, with open mouths and clicking cameras of course. In terms of coolness it pipped Glasgow's post in bagging Scotland's first Harvey Nics (the famous up-market London department store, which just opened its Edinburgh doors last week) but the real jewel in the crown is the Edinburgh festival...

The festival is a culmination of Scottish cultural events, which also opens its doors to the freshest talent worldwide, from every field. There is the International Festival, which although corporate sponsered and a tad on the stiff side offers an amazing array of ballets, operas and classical concerts. Then there is the film festival, book festival, childrens festival, bla bla bla festival and the Fringe festival. This would be the most famous, with all the less-classical and alternative stuff, such as street theatre and stand-up shows etc... If you want to see Scottish humour, take yourself to Edinburgh this month, make it past the whords of tourists and English people who just 'Loooove the festival dahling', sit in a churchhall / bar somewhere and soak it up... I warn you though, us Scots can have s cick sense of humour and I heard somewhere that in one show a few years ago these two crazy Scottish guys poured IRN BRU (bright orange, sticky, 2nd fizzy national drink) over an English member of the audience - you know, just for a laugh!

I, although perhaps a tad on the nervous side, shall be going next week for a few days. It's the tail end of the action when everything has all but died down but it will be fun nevertheless. I have galleries to visit, and a few shows to see. I'll let you know how it goes...

2002-08-14T18:53:00.000Z

Today my Mum asked my brother how he had slept last night?! His reply was "like a log" to which my Mum quirked back with the question "What, did you wake up in the fireplace?!"

This is a typical example of Scottish humour, fast sharp and something that has me baffled, despite being Scottish myself. There are hundreds of examples of this but, as is typical, they have gone straight out of my head. I will leave it thus at that for the moment.

2002-08-13T23:06:00.000Z

Today would have been Elvis' birthday, or perhaps it still is his birthday if indeed the King lives on!

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not a big Elvis fan or anything... It's just that the only place in the UK that Elvis ever actually made it to is my local airport and so I thought I would promote my little corner of the world with this little-known fact. Basically the King was flying to an airbase in Germany to do a concert for some GI Joes or something and his plane needed re-fueling, so they stopped at the first convenient European airport coming from North West (most transatlantic flights make this route due to jetstreams and stuff), which would be Prestwick. He de-boarded, stepping on British soil for the first and only time, and he stayed for forty minutes or so before he left again. Highly exciting.

Prestwick Airport and die-hard Elvis fans in and around Scotland take every opportunity to remind us of this fact, it has become a bit of a sore point for the English Elvis fans and indeed I heard on BBC Radio Scotland today that some crazy guy at the University of Lancaster had been writing a thesis on this subject. Closer to home though, actually at the airport one can have a drink at the Graceland Bar. Great. The memories are fading though, the airport is losing its former glory and not even Elvis can save it from the inevitable...

Once upon a time we used to use this airport to actually go places - North West Airlines used to fly to and from here to Boston, a flight I took when I was seven en route to Disney World - and I also once flew from here to Toronto. Nowadays it is mainly a cargo airport, for charter flights and for the ubiquitous Ryan Air, which is a sure sign that the airport is a secondary airport... Who am I to complain though?! Should I want to fly to other secondary airports across Europe I could do so for ridiculously cheap prices. It is tempting. Each time I see one of those blue and yellow planes fly above the estate I am sorely tempted to go and book a ticket to Oslo... Scandy-land!

Today though my thoughts have not been about fleeing to Sweden but about Elvis. Long live the King!

2002-08-12T21:41:00.000Z

My sister found this article for me. It's about Moscow, how it has changed since the Communist times.

What can I say about it?! Hmmmm, well the writer obviously was on drugs when he wrote this. Naturally Moscow has changed, and for the better. That goes without saying. However the writer portrays the new Moscow as if it were paradise, which it quite blatantly is not. For anyone having followed my blog through some of my bleak days they will know that this man was obviously wearing pink shaded, or rose tinted glasses. There are a lot of them (Russianists) out there. Take this quote for example: "Moscow in the summer is wonderful. Baking dust and heat, and the intense, shady green and blue of birch forests and sparkling rivers encircling the city. The world's best ice cream and the cool of the world's best metro system. Moscow State University, up on the hill, its majestic spire shimmering in the haze." Errrrrrrr, hello?! I agree that the ice cream is very good but the metro is far from cool - it's like going down to Hell for a visit riding that thing in the Summer, air con has not yet been introduced - and the rivers are murky brown not blue and sparkly. I reckon this guy was probably only there for a weekend, stayed in a nice hotel and swanned around the nice BBC offices before going to a bar where the women would fall all over him because he was a foreigner, he then goes on to talk about service with a smile... Ha ha ha!

Call me a cynic but this writer's version of Moscow is far different from mine, and I would take it with a large box of salt. Sure, I will admit that I never saw it during the Communist era and it surely must be a far better Moscow BUT it is far from the land of hope and glory. These mega pro-Russian people really get on my ****. AGH! It seems like even outside of Russia there will be no escaping from them, those who live for Russia and can't quite see its flaws although there are an abundance of them. Hmmmmm. I never cottoned on to the whole Russia love affair, I will admit. Still, I do have somewhat of an affection for it (I did actually stay there for six months without running away) and so with this in mind I want to say to these daft folk to get off your high horse. If your heart bleeds for these Russians so badly, why don't you move there and become a Russian yourself!

Always good to have a rant on a Monday!!!

2002-08-11T22:09:00.000Z

My sister is home for the weekend, which makes the family complete. We are the unit we always were, five of us. Mum, Dad, brother, sister and me. Chaos. We are a bit of a rabble when we all get together, it can be highly entertaining although it is tough to try and get a word in edgeways. This may be why it is quite rare for us all to be in the same house, town or even country at once!

I am number two of three, in the middle of a big brother and a little sister, who is only a year younger than me but who acts/thinks she is older than me. My sister and I get on well, but we don't see each other all that much so that could be why. She is very different from me, is more settled than me and our tastes differ tremendously (at present she is watching Jerry Springer and is talking back at the TV, which is something that drives me nuts - I hate freak shows. Oh, and she can pick up spiders and flush them away, whereas I run like a mad chicken if I so much as see one of those eight-legged freaks) apart from the whole Scandinavia thing... Well, Finland, which isn't Scandinavia as we all should know but is Nordic, who is splitting hairs though?! L loves Finland, warts and all. She loves the sausage people, is a big fan of Mika Hakkinen (is now in mourning that he retired) and is counting down the days until she goes to Helsinki at the end of this month. This though may have something to do with her Finnish boyfriend W, who she will no doubt marry before I even start to contemplate that M word seriously. As I have said she is way more settled than me, much less of a fruitcake and quite sensible - eeeeek! She can talk though, oh boy! That is one thing that we all have in common.

My brother too. I think my brother M has to be the funniest funniest man in the world. His humour is crude and very often sick, but when I'm around him my stomach is always almost splitting and so I don't mind. Laughter is a good cure for anything - I was tired and cranky during the 12+ hour flight from London to HongKong and my brother kept me entertained pretty much the whole way there with his imitations of Anne Robinson, of Weakest Link fame and his chinese jokes. Anyway M, he's a bit of a homebird, which is where he differs from me and my sister, and has stayed here in the south west of Scotland. I think he should ditch it all in, move to London and be a Comedian (although he loves the States, his humour I fear is too un-PC) but he is too attatched to his life here, and his Safeway supermarket fettish. He studied at Glasgow (only forty mins away) then bought a house in the town next to my home town, and is in his element now that my parents are home because he gets fed all the time - about time too, he is so skinny and he weighed less than me the last time we checked, or he made me endure the scales humiliation (I'm not that big but I am heavy, sigh). Being the first child, he can be a bit spoiled and relishes in the fact that he can get away with blue murder. My Mum is in mother hen mode at the moment, and wanted to make us a cake - how Martha S! I wanted it without raisins but my brother wanted it with, and there was no question over how was to win... Him. I'm not bitter about this, most of the time it is a standing joke that he is the 'prodigal son' and the apple of my Mothers eye bla bla and so we all laugh as we always do when we around him. That is when we are not crying...

It's all high flying emotions here. I think M feels it is his duty as a big brother to make us cry and he tries so hard. He is mad at the moment because two weeks have passed and he hasn't made me cry yet (I'm tough after Moscow though and so long as he doesn't touch my Burberry Handbag I'll be fine. It used to be boyfriends he would always attack but him being pathetically single he can't say a thing, claws...). He moved on to the next, much easier target - L, the sister - and at dinner tonight there were tears. We were eating potatos from my Uncles garden, where my Dog is burried and he pretended to find a Chloe (that was our dog) hair. Gross. You should have seen her face collapse. Totally unrealistic but she bites every bullet AND she lets herself get wound up about her private affairs. there are always tears and laughter.

It's all a game really, sibling rivalry and affection. I am in my element. I wish we were all children again and it could go on forever but alas on Tuesday L goes back to York and in September I am heading back to Bath. Not long until Christmas though...

2002-08-07T12:08:00.000Z

The South West of Scotland has a lot of good and bad to offer. I shall start with the bad, and work my way up to the good...

Unfortunately society is having to deal with an influx of what can only be called 'Neds'. Neds are the west coast of Scotland equivalent of London's Garys and Sharons. For those confused right about now, I shall enlighten you... These are the people with intentionally greasy hair, multiple earings and quite often a child born a few years before the legal age of consent. They are dressed in kappa 'easy access' (ie, with popper buttons down the side) sports trousers, sports jackets and the flashest of Nikes even though they have no intention of going anywhere near the gym and would rather loiter around shopping centres, housing estates and parks with a bottle of Buckfast, Mad Dog 20/20 or Merrydown - all of which are cheap alcoholic drinks - and make a nuisance of themselves. They sneer at people who are not like them, or are maybe happier than them, and have been known to ask such things as "Whit yoo doin' that fur?!" when people open doors for them. Actually that did happen to me, and I had to bite my tongue and not yell out "manners, you cretin." Neds are a real pain in the backside. I am being a total snob in saying this, but one has to admit that it is true. They are ignorant, narrow-minded and a real drag to have to share a space with. The worst of it is that more and more people are turning to ned-dom and my home town is being down by the kappa brigade. What used to be a quaint little seaside town, where the Glaswegians and people from forther afield would come on holiday is now an embarassment. Long gone are the glamourous people. The problem was that Ayr became a haven for retired people, dying a death and so the young people moved on to... well, Glasgow... leaving only a few levelheaded people behind, but mainly it is the downright ignorant population that remain and so life in Ayr revolves around them. Long gone are the nice shops, hello to the dozens of £ shops. Baaaaah. Not to mention the abundance of chippies. You want a deep fried pizza (yes, that is right a pizza in batter fried) with chips?! No worries, just choose from one of about a hundred. The west coast of Scotland has the worst rate of heart disease in the world, and we wonder why?! It can be really disheartening to see all these miserable, fat and depressed people and it does not make me overly proud It's just a bit naff really. I don't deal with neds too well, and I worry for the future of this region.

Fortunately the worst hasn't happened yet and there is still has some diginty to the area. There are still little niches of what I like about Scotland - the Scotland that is portrayed in all the guide books, the one with mist and mountains and fairies. And not to forget there still is the glorious history of Robert Burns. Robert Burns you ask?! He is our national poet, a hero, and he hails from Ayrshire. He is probably most famous for Auld Lang Syne, the song sung by the English speaking population the World over at New Year, but my favourites are his poems that are based in this area as they mean more to me. At school we were always made to learn these poems and songs by heart, and had to recite them in competitions, and so I have a bit of a soft spot for Burns. My favourite would be his epic tale Tam O'Shanter, which starts off:

When chapman billies leave the street,
And drouthy neebors neebors meet,
As market-days are wearing late,
And folk begin to tak the gate;
While we sit bousin, at the nappy,
And gettin fou and unco happy,
We think na on the lang Scots miles,
The mosses, waters, slaps, and stiles,
That lie between us and our hame,
Whare sits our sulky, sullen dame,
Gathering her brows like gathering storm,
Nursing her wrath to keep it warm.

Basically, it is about Tam, who likes the drink a bit and after having been in the town selling his wares at the market he heads to the pub whilst his wife Kate sits at home getting mad. At the pub he gets rather drunk and then has to endure the journey home, where strange things happen. This extract is just the first verse, the very beginning of the scene setting but it then continues for pages and pages, and musters lots of emotions - fear, anxiety, terror, excitement. It is an amazing piece of work, and you should check it out here.

Living in the heart of Burns country, with Burns cottage only just down the road in Alloway and with Scotland's equivalent to Disneyland next door to it (The Land O' Burns Experience or something...) I am bombarded with my culture all the time. It is great, Burns is a real gem. Reading the works of this skilled man I am proud to say that I too come from Ayrshire, I mean... Who else in the world could write a poem dedicated to a Haggis?! It's great.

2002-08-06T18:15:00.000Z

I live in the South West of Scotland, about five miles in-land from the coastal town of Ayr (which I guess one could call my 'home' town if we were being pernickity, and I have no idea how to spell that word as so forgive me for that) in a lovely little place called Sundrum Castle. Don't get me wrong, although quite a little princess (ha ha) I don't actually live in the castle, just a stone throw away from it, but I do have access to all the grounds and the tennis courts etc.. It is a great place to live, it epitomises - to me anyway - everything that I think Scotland should be. It's green and lush yet dark and misty, there is wildlife oozing from every pore of the ninety-six acres of land with its river, waterfall, fields and forests... and there is a castle with a flag flying the Soltaire (the blue flag with white diagonal cross that makes up a third of the Union flag that more people would recognise)!

I used to hate this place - Sundrum - in my early teens because it was 'so boring'. By this I think I meant 'so quiet', in that there were not many people to entertain me, or at least people my age other than my sister. I didn't have a driving license and the drive to the main road, where I could catch a bus into the metropolis that is Ayr is a good two miles of enclosed tarmic through a dark, and somewhat creepy wood. This being Scotland, the mystic place where fairies and elves wander the woods, not to mention the many ghosts, I was somewhat terrified of this wood in the dark. With Scotland being quite far north it can tend to be dark a lot in the Winter, and even in the Summer the clouds make it dark and gloomy and so fate had it that I was stranded, resenting this place for being so out of the way.

It is only now that I have come back after many years away do I realise what an amazing place this is and how priveliged I am to stay up here. It is wonderful, an idyllic abyss only just tucked away from the high-paced world where people can let their children and dogs roam and run about fields, without the fear of them being run down by a car, or whatever. There is also a sense of community among the residents, which I witnessed on Sunday evening at an Estate bar-b-que. Some might think it is a bit sick in a way, or a bit twee that once a month we have an estate day where activities are organised but I assure you now that it has calmed down, with new people arriving and the community growing to a size where it is not quite as easy to live in one anothers pockets. I look back to my bitter, angst-filled teenage years when my parents first bought the property and I remember how bad it was then - a few parties a weekend and such a high consumption of alcohol that there was talk of applying for a private bottle-bank for recycling. It was crazy, claustrophobic and almost in the leagues of a weird sect. Yikes. These days it has calmed, the excitement dimmed, the first generation of Sundrum dwellers having moved on and more families moving in. Sunday evening was nice though, and it was nice to meet up with some of my parents friends again and eat some good food after my long walk in the afternoon. Good old Scotland!

2002-08-04T12:09:00.000Z

What a life! What a way to spend a Sunday morning... sitting in the sunshine (I believe it is the first sunny day Scotland has had this Summer, no seriously) reading the Sunday supplements. Fantastic. It is good to catch up on all the things I missed whilst away and a newspaper that lasts all day long, with glossy magazines and interesting articles ranks up there as one of the finer things. Washing, ironing and unpacking boxes from various walks of life would not be so nice, but they also have to be done. Shucks. I have been spending my time just 're-adjusting' to life back in the West and although I am still wading through boxes I keep falling in love with just about everything so it is fun. I am manically crazy with joy over finding my old school uniform (at the time I velieved it to be torture but what a good idea), my old diaries from when I was in my early teens (how pathetic), old photos and forgotten about clothes and gadgets and stuff.

Then there is the joy of a newspaper delievered every morning by the postman, and TV programmes and a... duvet. Bliss. Am spending my time reading, vedging and sleeping. Oh, and visiting relatives who want to hear all about the perils of Russia. I'm beginning to sound like a broken record. It is what I do best though, talk, so I guess I don't mind.

Later on I am going to walk the boundaries of the Estate with my Dad, catching up on green air and no doubt falling in mud and having a few arguments with a few trees and bushes that pop in my way as they always did when I was a child. I am so excited, will ditch all my city ways for a moment and will be the country girl I once used to be before I realised that trees don't talk back, ha ha! It will be so nice to see trees that aren't birch or pine, but real British hundreds of years old oak trees, and it will be refreshing to walk along the river that runs through the estate, to see its waterfall and muster up images of Highland Spring (that's the mineral water that British Airways use incidentally) adverts from TV.

Yes, I managed to re-find my blog, which had disappeared. Don't know what is happening with blogger but my blog went walk abouts in cyber space and all my archives have gone a bit manic too. Fingers crossed it continues to at least semi-work...

2002-08-01T20:43:00.000Z

Now I cannot even get onto my blog, huh!

2002-07-31T15:48:00.000Z

I am having a few problems with Blogger. I cannot get my archives to come back and it is really pissing me off. I hate technology at the best of times, but when you have a thousand and one other things to do it really annoys me. This comes at the worst time and I just cannot figure it out. Anyone able and willing to help me out please let me know what to do, my blog looks sad without my archive lists...

So anyway I am back! Yeaaaaaaaaaah! Welcome back to civilisation Fiona. My head is still spinning, I don't know whether I am coming or going and so this will be another one of those meaningless, 'full of nothing' posts I fear. I have always travelled and I should be used to this but I think Russia was a bit of a shock to the system and so it is taking me a while to adjust. As if the very fact that Moscow was manic, I decided to leave Moscow and make my first destination (even before home) Scandinavia, Denmark and Sweden to be more precise. Talk about from the sublime to the ridiculous.... From the most chaotic city in the world to probably the neatest, and definitely one of the more sophisticated cities I know. Copenhagen.

It was bliss, if not a little bit of a mind boggling experience. Was staying mostly with my friend Lex in her father's residence (her father is the Belgian Ambassador to Denmark) which was a far cry to the 50 square metre apartment in Moscow with all its dirt and the manky cat. I was stunned by it all, and I don't think I stopped smiling the entire time I was there. It was a weird and surreal experience, such extremes. Not only was I emotional but my poor brain was on overdrive, I didn't know what language to speak - Russian, English or French... Then I made matters worse by going to Sweden and adding in good old Swedish. Am suffering from a nervous exhaustion anyway after Russia (ha ha) and I guess that this was maybe the last thing I needed but I am a glutton for punishment and to be honest I was in my element.

To cut what could be a veeeeerrrrryyyyyy loooooooonnnnnnnnngggggggg story short, I had a fantastic time in my first week outside of the tight grip of Old Mother Russia. I spent hours walking the streets of Copenhagen (in a non hooker fashion thank you very much), grinning from cheek to cheek, lounging in cafes and bars drinking poncy coffees and nice wines in amongst the beautiful people, breathing in the fresh air by the lakes and sea, sitting in parks, socalising, travelling around (made a treck to LEGOLAND to fulfil a highly selfish, childish whim and, naturally, nobody could hold me back from that Örresund bridge because I just had to go to Sverige to soak up the Swedishness) and... shopping! It was excellent, a real therapy and now I am set again and ready to face my old home... SCOTLAND.

It has been a while (a good few years) since I spent any real length of time here and I was nervous to get here. First of all I hadn't seen my parents for six months (which may not sound long but I am still only 21 and although I am used to living in foreign countries away from them I still try see them every three months) and so I was excited to see them but I was also returning to I guess what you could call my childhood home, which I haven't stepped foot in for over five years. It was going to be a bit much for me to take, least not because I am hardly the most Scottish of persons and people have great difficulty pinpointing my nationality, huh!

I flew via Amsterdam and checking in at Schipol for my flight to Glasgow I felt I was already at home. The flight was full of Scottish people - the sing-song rough language they used, the clothes they wore and the distinctive look of Scottish people gave it away. It was weird, and I felt as if I didn't belong. If they had looked in my suitcases (which were hideously overweight but I worked my charm and flirted my way out of paying, skilled) and seen what I had in there I would have looked even more out of place, what with my books, magazines and other such literature in four languages and non-Scottish clothes and things. I felt, looked and sounded the opposite of every person on that flight and I had to ask myself "Is this really what I want to capture?!" Landing in Glasgow to near torrential rain (which worsened yesterday incidentally as half of Glasgow was turned into a river) and very grey skies I had another pang of doubt, asking myself the same question... The answer is probably no, talking in general terms I mean (take a trip to any Scottish town and you may be shocked by what you see) but Scotland does have a lot of good things to offer and that is what I am here to relish in. The humour (that struck me straight away on the plane as the flight attendant was Scottish and in giving his talk about safety he warned that anyone caught smoking in the bathrooms would be thrown out of the plane without a parachute, very droll) the friendliness and the downright chattiness of people I just adore but there is so much more for me to explore, for example: my history and culture, my language (which has many links to old Norse) and the way of life. Never living here as a (aheeeem) fully fledged adult I wouldn't know what life here is all about.

Now that my blog will not describe life in Russia, living with a babushka and all that, I hope to write about my country. I apologise to anyone Scottish in advance, I might come across as harsh but as anyone who travels will tell you, you sometimes have to look away to see what life on your doorstep is really like...

2002-07-22T09:27:00.000Z

Zavtra. I cannot believe that the time has crept upon me quite so fast. Six months gone and there are still a hundred and one things to do. It looks like today will be one of those mad days, even more mad than the usual mad that is life here in Moscow. Am at the office right now, clearing out my things and eating chocolates with the secretaries, oh and not to forget translating a whole load of stuff that people forgot to give me until today. I love that about Russia - it is all very last minute. I honestly don't mind, am breezing through the day about nine inches above the ground. A happy cloud that screams "I am getting out of here" surrounds me, and I don't think that I will be able to sleep tonight. I'm all butterflies and everynow and then I remember that it is true and I get a little shiver of excitement. I cannot hide the fact that I am ecstatic to be leaving, it has been a tough six months.

This place has grown on me though (or rather forced itself upon me in true Muscovite style) and I shall be sad to leave behind the people I met here, the good times I have had and perhaps even the chaos of life in this city and not to forget Babushka, who incidentally has shaved her head. Don't ask why, because in all honesty I don't know - she is crazy, it's as simple as that. For her sake I am trying to conceal my utter happiness, tomorrow she will probably fall into a fit of depression with no-one left to faff over. I feel sorry for that cat, it is going to bear the brunt of Babushka's attention. Naturally, trying to conceal the big cheesy grin is a tad difficult, to say the least...

So, tomorrow is the big day. On to Denmark, to Sweden, to Holland and Scotland... Am looking forward to all, equally, but to be honest with you my mind is in total chaos (fitting in with the surroundings while it still can). I am on ditz mode, not making any sense to myself let alone you guys and so I will stop writing here. For the moment anyway. I had thought that I would write final thoughts on Moscow but am not coming accross as coherent I don't think and so I will wait until life is a bit more settled - will probably be in Uk because when I am in Scandy-land my mind will be somewhat pre-occupied. Maybe be better this way anyway, having left Russia I will be able to look at things from a more objective view point. Or maybe not... We'll see... In the meantime, Do svidaniya! (Which incase you didn't know means 'goodbye!')

2002-07-17T11:42:00.000Z

Time is ticking fast before I leave Moscow. I will in all honesty be relieved to leave this crazy, crazy place and to step back down a geer and relax in the comforts of my parents house in Scotland, not to mention potter about Scandinavia for a wee while. Generally, one might say that in Moscow I run around like a blue-arsed fly. I am always dashing off to do this and that, and it is consuming. Life is all about travelling accross this vast city, in this vast land and quite often you feel like you have achieved nothing at the end of the day.

The past twenty four hours though have not been like that. I have been determined not to dawdle and have managed to fit in work, working on my dissertation, reading, sun-soaking, socialising and sightseeing. Basically I am doing all the things I need to do to say that I have seen Moscow to the fullest extent, and I have a week to do it in. Yikes.

Last night I took a river cruise with a classmate from University of Bath, who happens to be in Moscow and is doing the tourist thing. Never having been on a boat on the Reka Moskva I decided that it was worthwhile to go along, see all the sights from water and get some photos to show the grandchildren type thing. We went to the embankment of the river in front of Moscow's classiest (am being ironic) hotel, the Gostinitsa Rossia, which is a monumental beast monstrosity lump of concrete encompasing something crazy like 1500 rooms and making it one, if not the largest hotel in Europe. I went to the kiosk and in true Russian style I put my money down on the counter and barked for a ticket, but the boats didn't leave from there. Nor did they leave from Kievskaya, where I thought would be the best other bet. The only place to get on the boat, according to this woman, was at Gorky Park. Without further ado we trailed over to Gorky Park, which took us an hour despite being just along the River - as I said before Moscow is immense and time-consuming. I was wearing shoes because my babushka had told me to keep my feet warm, but having not been able to wear shoes in a while due to my foot injury it came as somewhat of a shock to my feet who squealed in pain and flared up in massive, skin cutting blisters. Euoch. And you can probably guess what happened next?! We get to Gorky Park, manage to get on the boat and pay for a ticket but then the boat turned round (as opposed to going towards Kievskaya so we would see the grand buildings of the Univeristy, Whitehouse and er, the British Embassy) and headed up to exactly where we had been. And it stopped to let passengers on. I was ready to go and hit the old bat in the ticket kassa but then my exasperation was calmed when I remembered that this was Russia and that I should be used to it by now. The boat continued to travel East and then stopped and we were informed that they were finishing working and the cruise was over. What?! But I wanted to see the West of the city. No use, the working day was over and what more did I want?! I got to see the Kremlin from the water... oh great a big fortress wall and some domes sticking out the top. Hmmm, was not impressed. Still, have experienced the Moscow River Tour Boat and well it was an adventure because we were deposited somewhere I had never been before, and in a quite obscure part of town, which made it interesting to get home. Thankfully I can read Russian and get by, but imagine any unaware tourists?! May I recommend that if you want to go cruising on a river save it for Paris, or Vienna...

Today though I was not perturbed by last nights experience and climbed on that old proverbial horse again. Before work what was on the agenda?! Well a sbidaniya / date with Mr Lenin, that's what. Had to check-in all bags and cameras and stuff, then wait for a while in amongst the other 'pilgrims' before we were let onto Red Square and could walk up to the Mausoleum. The marble building was cool and dark from the moment you walked through the heavy vaulted doors, and my stomach lurched around a fair bit - was I really going to see a man who has been dead for 75 years?! Creepy. I walked down some steps and then up and around Lenin's open casket, not daring to move incase one of the Militsia Men decided to shoot me, and so I didn't get that good a look to be honest. My morbid curiosity was fulfilled though and in all honesty I don't think he is real. I don't see how he possibly could be. He looked pretty much like a wax dummy, although a very peaceful wax dummy no doubt. It was all a bit surreal, and he was a bit scrawny and small and very uninspiring considering that he is responsible for so much. I came out into the open air and I admit I was very sceptical straight away, and found the graves and plaques behind his tomb much more interesting. It was like the names of the history books we had to read were coming alive for me, which was comforting that I had taken in something at least from my classes. Saw Stalin's grave, which made my knees go a bit weak... Great leader?! What an evil man! His statue I imagine was a very good likeness and his eyes seemed to follow you as you walked past and onto Red Square again. I got shivers from his marble replica more than I got from Lenin's supposedly real body - again leading me to trust my female instinct and believe that what I saw today was not Lenin.

After the cynicism attack it was then time to see the changing of the guards, and like any changing of the guards it was Soldiers marching. Yes, very interesting.... NEXT!!!

2002-07-16T11:39:00.000Z

It seems like the whole of Moscow is underconstruction at the moment, from the metro to the roads I travel on to get to work and now to the Investment bank that my apartment block is right beside, and which my bedroom window looks onto. I was woken up this morning to drilling and banging and goodness knows what else, was most upset! Then again, I guess Investment banks have to look the part otherwise noone would invest their money in them.

I always did think it was an odd place to have an Investment bank in the middle of a residential street, with lots of people farms surrounding it but I like it because it not only gives character to the street I live in, and gives me a nice view from my bedroom window with its nice manicured gardens, but it also is a good way of recognising that I am home, in the mass of identical soviet blocks. There is that, and then the old communications mast that looms over the apartment, all lit up like something out of StarTreck.

The communications tower rises to dizzy heights, like an upside down ice-cream cone, and the white and red lights that shine off it make it look very surreal. It is something to come out of the metro, and there it is. Like a beacon home. It is also a fantastic landmark, you can see it breaking the skyline all the way from the very centre - from the Kremlin, looking over the Moscow river and out into the residential areas. Many times have I been lost (Moscow is a maze) but have been saved by this TV mast, which was replaced as being Moscow's main such device by the infamous Ostankino Tower... anyone remember two weeks after the sinking of the Kursk, the Ostankino setting on fire and threatening to topple over?!

I like the area I live in, it is one of Moscow's quieter regions and (apparently) one of the more upmarket. With only seven more days of living there I am starting to get a bit sentimental about it. One, two, three, ahhhh!

2002-07-15T08:50:00.000Z

I have a good friend, a Russian friend who is probably more Scottish then me scarily enough. His history is pretty simple, he spent the first ten or so years of his life in Moscow and then when his parents (academics) moved to the UK he followed, naturally. Since then he has lived in London, St Andrews and Edinburgh – not to forget studies in Bath. He is very proud of his mixed heritage, sleeping with a CCCP / USSR flag above his bed, listening to very dodgy Russian music, wearing speedos around the house (put it away Vic, blaaaaah), inviting his Russian friends round for vodka drinking sessions, eating Russian foods yet doing all this in a typically Scottish way, with tartan trimmings, and then going off to play golf in his free time – and I ask you, what epitomises Scotland more than golf, other than maybe whisky?! Those of you who are of the University of Bath variety will know what I am talking of Victor…

Anyway Victor, or ‘Vitya’ as he has recently taken to calling himself (well, since I came to Russia and learned more than how to count to ten), is coming back to Moscow for the first time in an astonishing six years! It is Sod’s law though that he arrives less than one week after I leave and so we won’t get to meet here, and I won’t get to show him the new Moscow and the one he has never seen, having never been here as an (ha ha ha) adult. I think perhaps that Vitya is feeling a tad nervous about coming back to the Motherland, things have changed so much here and after having lived in the Bubble that is the UK, to come here is a shock to the system. With this in mind, and to make up for the fact that I am escaping Russia a bit early I promised that I would dedicate a blog to him and write a mini-guide to Moscow. For anyone who is not interested in coming to Moscow, look away now because this will be a long, printable-off offence. Here goes…

Moscow as seen from the ground:

I won’t bother to patronise you with tips for Sheremetyevo dva, will just say that you should keep a stern face and try not to look confident, assertive or in the least bit happy to be there because I assure you, no one else there is and so you will stick out like a sore thumb and make an easy target for the customs guards, and not to mention the taxi sharks! Do NOT take a taxi from the airport because it is daylight robbery, they charge you like $50 for a half hour ride in the back of a Lada, which would cost you as little as $4 if you hailed a cab from anywhere else in the city. Talking about ‘bombing’ as people call it here, it is pretty easy. Steer clear of entrances to Metro Stations, Train Stations and big expensive ex-pat clubs and bars and tourist destinations, walk a hundred metres and then step out into the middle of the road and stick your arm out. It is like magic and within twenty seconds you will have a couple of cars backed up, in-case the first one doesn’t take you and so on. Arrange your price first, 200 roubles max but you can often be cheeky and get away with 50 roubles (yes, that cheap!) Obviously as these guys are not trained taxi drivers, you can expect pretty much any behaviour. They will smoke without asking you, talk on the phone and drive like maniacs, and not to forget that half the time they don’t actually know where they are going. My tip is to buy a mini ‘atlas Moskvi’ and take it with you everywhere.

The question is where to go?! Well baring in mind that I lived with Victor for the first two years of university I have had many opportunities to see into his soul and find out what he likes to do. A bit of an uber geek at heart, he likes to do weird boy geeky things but then go to the other end of the extreme he has been working in the city, and does like to see himself as being a bit cool and so likes to party hard in an aspiring to be cosmo fashion, go shopping… All the while looking for his perfect woman, basically anyone with red hair will do because the guy has a red hair fettish! So, I think that this list might be of use to you Vic, a list of places where you might be entertained and where you might just that feisty red-head you have been seeking for over the past few years…

Must sees of Moscow

Of course there are many, many museums and sights in Moscow and Vic has seen some of them, but times change and memories fade, so it might be worth seeing them again. Pick up any Lonely Planet-esque Guide and they will list them all, but naturally the obvious is Red Square, Lenin’s tomb St Basils, Aleksandrovsky Sad with the tomb of the unknown soldier, Kremlin, Armoury, Diamond Fund, Tetralnaya Ploshad, Bolshoi Theatre, Seven Sisters, Arbat, Gorky Park with its sculpture garden and ferris wheel from centuries past, Victory Park, Tretyakov Galleries, Pushkin State Fine Art Museum and various monasteries (incidentally there is one just round the corner from my house at Shabolovskaya with pretty good gardens as far as Moscow gardens go). Referring back to previous blogs, there is also the new car crime museum and the metro museum, but don’t make the effort to go down there because you will be faced with the ‘Zakrit dlya remont’ sign.

Re-fuelling

When you are feeling thirsty or no doubt hungry (you eating so much that you do) there are lots of places to re-fuel one could say. Of course there are the hundreds of kiosks that sell anything from baked potatoes, to whole spit-chickens but the best would be to get a fransuskie hot dog from anyone of the STOPTOP vendors. They are a reputable chain, and not only am I addicted to them but I will miss them dreadfully when I am back in sausage-free UK. I also recommend the little pastries from Nyam Nyam / Yum Yum, you will recognise these because they have Vinnie Pux / Winnie the Pooh as their logo. What I do not recommend however is the Sharma because in these heats, with that meat exposed to the open, polluted air all day you will orbably come down with a particularly nasty case of food poisoning. We have environmental health inspectors in the UK for a purpose, but no such thing seems to exist here, and it could be why so many people are sickly looking. Moving on though…

Cafés

Should you be wanting something a bit more sophisticated than a grab and run from a caravan (and I wouldn’t blame you, other than those fransuskies) then there are a lot of great little cafes to go to. Here is a selection of some of my favourites – thus you know they are classy -:

Pirogi – written about by the Financial Times (?!) this haven for intellectuals wanting a bit more than a McDonalds also comprises of bookstore, exhibits photography on the walls and is open 24 hours. You can come here for a simple coffee, for a snack, a banquet or the complete works, with cocktails and carafes of vodka etc… there are three branches but the best one is situated on the street parallel to Tverskaya (looking from the Kremlin end it is the first parallel street on the right) with Tetralnaya Metro station and the Operatic Theatre at the bottom of the street on the same side as the café. It is a pretty cool place, fantastic food, inexpensive and definitely a favourite here. Waiting service is sporadic, often very slow but they have the advantage that they at least know that when six people order dinner, they want at the same time! The Sophia/Fiona special is the chicken wings & calamari shared for starters, Beef stroganoff for main and chocolate icecream with strawberry sauce for dessert – accompanied by a few seks na plage if you know what I mean!

Up the road from Pirogi (towards Pushkinskaya and still on the same side of the street) there is a café, which doesn’t appear to have a name it is so minimalist. I love this place, they do great coffee and it is highly pretentious. It is off the beaten track a bit, not many people patronize it and it is not for the average Pilmieni-eating Russian if you know what I mean. Stark beige walls and bar, ceramic floor, dark brown fuss-free furniture and small orange chandeliers all give it a very chic atmosphere. I like it because it reminds me of so many cafes in Helsinki, and in Scandinavia. It is a huge novelty in Russia but if more of these places crop up I assure you Moscow will be a very ‘cool’ place to be in a few years time.

Still in the same area is Moscow’s newest café, and something I have been missing since I arrived here – my luck that it opens the week before I leave. Prime is on the pedestrian street linking Tverskaya and the street that Pirogi is on, and it is a Sandwich Bar. The official launch party is tomorrow but I checked it out today (Sunday) for lunch with some friends. It was pretty cool, also on the minimalist bandwagon, but the exciting thing was the fresh granary bread (almost unheard of here) they used for their sandwiches and the very Marks & Spencer like fillings. You might not be craving such things only spending a month here but nevertheless it is a great, inexpensive place to grab a bite to eat right in the VERY city centre. Whatever you do, don’t go to Zen coffee across the street. It is extremely over-rated, its prices are ridiculously inflated and tries too hard to Starbucks, when it is not. Same can also said for the Coffee Bean. Avoid these not worth it money sucking places at all costs.

If it is a Starbucks style coffee house you are seeking then I recommend that you check out Coffee Mania in the building next door to the Conservatoire. Very good coffees, a wicked club sandwich and stylish interior make it the best Starbucks style place in Moscow. It’s a tad on the pricey side, but Moscow sees itself as being as worthy as London and so you should expect high prices in a lot of places.

Café Orange is on Tetralnaya Ploshad, and considering it’s prestige location the prices are surprisingly not that bad. The menu here is fantastic, ranging from fresh salads (yes, with real live lettuce) to blinies and with some exotic non-alco cocktails if you are in the need for something sweet and sugary. Alternatively Sophia would highly recommend their Chardonnay. The interior is a bit in your face and, well, ORANGE (hence the name) but they have comfy sofas in the non-smoking section, which must be the only place in the whole of Russia that caters for non-smokers rather than smokers. In these scorching summer heats though you might want to sit outside on the terrace…

Lots of terraces springing up all over the place, not quite Paris or Rome but they are getting there… As I said, in a few years this place will be hot…

Saving the best for last though… Café Pushkin! At Pushkinskaya, this is the chicest place in the whole of Moscow and if you really want to impress a girl you might want to bring her here. The university department (HW) told me it wasn’t the real Russia but in defence I pleaded that it was named after Russia’s Greatest Poet, and represented the real Russia that was before the damned revolution and those revolting Communist years. It is grandiose, the menu is exquisite and it is very pricey but you get moneys worth, whereas you pay the same at the Sheraton for a pile of processed, plastic food with no atmosphere to boot. The service is spot on, even in the depths of winter with cloaked doormen, and over four floors there is a spot for everyone – be it cosy in the cellar, grand on the ground floor or intimate on the third floor. Very sophisticated, for the rich only and off-putting for vulgar Americans, you should take to this place like duck to water. You could come here for just a coffee and cake, for bliny, caviar and vodka, or for the full monty. Maybe though you might want to reconsider the full four-course meal and take a look at some of the restaurants I like:

Restaurants

Most frequented restaurant here in Moscow would be the American Diner, but that is only because we pandered to Alexia’s needs every time she came through from Yaroslavl and she liked to get her fill of ‘western’ food, and not cabbage! There are two, the one at Mayakovskaya is infinitely better and in the grounds of the theatre and so you walk through fairy lights to get there, ahhh! When you get there you are confronted by the brashness of everything American. Imagine the tackiest of diners that you see in crappy road movies – this encapsulates it. It is so cheesy and kitsch it is almost cool. Vinyl booths, waitresses in cheerleading outfits, magicians and the most amazingly huge portions that you will see ever, well outside of America. The usual fair, hamburgers and milkshakes, not too exotic but you have to give the American’s credit for cashing in on what the Russian’s obviously like… America! Russians and Americans have been enemies for years but perhaps it is because they are too similar?! Food for thought over that oreos milkshake!

For another fun theme restaurant, this one vaguely more Russian though, I recommend the Trans-Siberian Train café. In a basement underneath Orange, this restaurant is decked out like the interior of a train, each ‘window’ with a different view of the Trans-Siberian route. It is the closest I will ever get I assure you (my sense of adventure doesn’t stretch as far as no showers for a week) and so I appreciate the kitshness of it all, with cheesy names for meals and even the waitresses dressed up as ticket conductors. Fab!

Around the corner from here will probably be your best bet for a good restaurant. Unfortunately I cannot for the life of me remember the name but it is opposite the entrance to Gym where the Naff Naff and Christian Dior stores are, and a stone’s throw from the History museum and Red Square. You cannot miss it, with flashing lights advertising open 24 hours, all you can eat for $9. Inside is somewhat more upmarket than I have just made it sound, with Scandinavian style furnishings and very comfortable chairs… The best though is that you can stuff your face until you pop… Great, huh?!

Sbarro is another favourite, it became a Friday night ritual for me and Sophia to meet at Oxotnie Ryad, grab a slice of pizza and then come home and gossip like old babushkas, ah those were the days. There are a few of these restaurants dotted across Moscow and they are all the same, the beauty of chains. Self-service ‘Italian’ restaurants, you can example such delights as fried pasta. Steering clear of the aforementioned craziness, their chicken pizza/pie is fantastic, and heavily spiced with my old favourite fennel. Mmmmm. Bit of a haven for tourists because it is a case of point and pay, as opposed to the stress of ordering from a menu, but nevertheless it is very cheap and filling, so it gets thumbs up.

These Russians like their self-service as you may remember from those bleak Soviet days ;-) Another fine example of this style is My-My, on the Old Arbat, which is a kind of cow-themed Swiss cottage with references to that famously sadistic children’s story about the dog that drowned. If your babushka doesn’t stuff you full with enough Pilmieni to fill those hollow legs you have, you will get them here! Not a bad place…

Loads of Georgian Restaurants too, all across Moscow and you have to go and eat their cheesy bread just to feel your arteries hardening. Talking to an almost fellow Scot, this is good grub and the heartiness of it reminds me a bit of our national cuisines, well a bit! I have only been to one Georgian restaurant once, but it made its mark on me. The woman there was singing the most dreadful music you have ever heard and my colleague wanted to know if I wanted to dance to it, “errrr what?!” Another cool fact was that it was all brick walls but because the bricks are too heavy for the ceiling they used brick-coloured sponges, very effective interior design work. It is on the same street as the Conservatoire, and on the same side, but almost at Puskinskaya – it was a bit of a walk on the icy February streets.

Finally, if you want a choice of restaurants in pretty close proximity then you can do no better than go to Bibioteka um. Lenina Metro, and go to the street that runs down the side of the library. Walking parallel to the River, East you will come across a courtyard on your right hand side, which has a selection of cute little places, from another Georgian to a Japanese to an Indian and then my favourite – Rhythm and Blues. I took Nadia here last week and she thought it was pretty cool, and spotted a famous Russian politician (sorry, forgot who not being totally into politics like you guys). The food is a bit pricey and run of the mill, but the real reason for coming early would be to bag a table for the live music. Almost every night there is a live band and when we went last week they were pretty good it has to be said, and you can witness the Russian habit of just dancing on the spot, wherever you feel like it. This is one thing about Russia that is great, they like their dancing and it can be highly entertaining to watch. To participate you might lose your life, but certainly you have to witness the Russian’s of today dancing.

Nightclubs

If you want to hang out with the American Marines and be hosted by a Russian in disguise as an African (very odd man) then you might want to check out Rock Vegas. You can play pool, drink beer and again they have live bands. Not at all my cup of tea but it is a popular amongst the lads here. They have nachos too. Oh yes, and it is next to and above the pizza hut between Tretyakovskaya and Novokysnetskaya.

Another favourite among the lads is the Hungry Duck, also known as the Hungry Fuck. They have ladies nights where they just let women in for three hours (for the low price of $1) and let them drink as much as they want for free, then they open the doors to the men, by this time testosterone oozing out of their ears. Randy men + too drunk women, it ain’t gonna be pretty! It goes without saying that I have never been but I have heard all about it and thought you might want to check it out, it’s at Kusnetsky Most.

I admit that I am much more of a pretentious lounging in bars type girl, and nice bars at that. I do like clubbing but I have to be inspired and more often than none Moscow does not inspire me. There are two places though that I do like, Territoria and Propaganda - off Tverskaya behind the being dismantled Intourist Hotel, and at Kitai Gorod respectively. These two nightclubs are the hangouts of cool, young Russians, although not the kind with the serious attitude problems, superiority complexes and too much money to throw around on a new pair of Gucci Shoes. All within reason (Lagom as the Swedes say, what a great word) just the right amount of pretentiousness, the people who come to these places quietly know they are cool and are understated. Just the right amount of style consciousness, not the overdone tarts you see so frequently here with designer’s names splashed across every inch of their body, or sorry their clothing because often the body is far from covered. Propaganda and Territoria are the types of places where you just simply wear designer jeans, a white top teamed with a designer handbag and good shoes. They are the most like a Wallpaper*-esque night hangout in Moscow!

Anyway, there are a few things to keep you occupied… I am going to go now because my eyes are blurring looking at the screen. Print off and take with you to Moscow, because this has taken an awful lot of effort. Hey, but it was yet another opportunity to avoid doing my Special Study. I guess the only thing left to say is: Schastlivo Puti!

2002-07-12T10:36:00.000Z

In an attempt to avoid doing work on my Special Study (I am still in a bad mood with the metro) I decided last night that I would read The Moscow Times, from cover to cover. This is not something that I normally do because it is basically an American Newspaper in Russia and being the British snob that I am, I strongly disapprove of the many, many spelling mistakes there are and well the shoddiness of it all. It is great that there is such a service here, don’t get me wrong, and that it is besplatno / free. The fact remains though that it is somewhat inferior to the newspapers I am used to back home, and it feels like it is still trying to find its feet despite having been around for years.

Thursday’s edition though is generally one I prefer because it has a French supplement included and so I sat down to read the English up to date news and some nice stories in French about Russia… I actually came across some very interesting stories and so without further ado I shall tell you about them:

Front page news is that a Bible Fun Park is planned to open here in Moscow in 2005. This will be the Russian equivalent to Disney World, but with more depth seeing as Moscow is a ‘spiritual center.’ Children will come to the park and learn about different world religions at the same time as having fun. Personally it all sounds a bit freaky, and a chance for Russian businessmen to try and promote themselves as good Samaritans in amongst the copious amounts of bad press stating that they are corrupt. I am willing to give them the benefit of the doubt after having been to Gorky Park (at present Russia’s hottest amusement park) on several occasions and having been highly disappointed each time.

Moving on though… Mercer, Swiss based HR Consulting Company released its annual cost of living survey, which ranked Moscow as the second most expensive place to live, after Hong Kong. They released another survey earlier this year on “quality of life,” which ranked Moscow 150 out of 215 cities worldwide. What can be made of this I am not sure, but it re-enforces what I thought all along, that it is VERY expensive to live here, money evaporates easily and yet the standard of living is far from great, well for me at least. My money goes on average-ness, there is no such thing as Customer Service and it is just chaos. Sigh.

On a happier note… A car garage here in Moscow (it goes without saying that it is a LADA garage) has opened a museum in order to educate its customers on the scary statistics in car-crime, and just how easy it is to steal a car. This is the worlds first ever car-crime museum and my mind is torn as to which way it will go. Will there be a decrease in the number of stolen cars as people adopt some odd new techniques to keeping their wheels safe (such as placing large fishing hooks on the drivers seat, wrapping the steering wheel in heavy duty chains or hunting traps for the pedals)?! Will there be an even higher number of cars with that same annoying car alarm that every Lada worth its metal has? OR, will this new information about the easiness of stealing cars encourage these conscious Russians?! In the words of the Banzai Master - “Place you bets now!”

Finally though, my favourite snippet was this: Georgy Muradov, the head of City Hall’s foreign relations department, is worried about the negative impression that Shermetyevo makes on foreigners, and is quoted to have said “ This airport is a shameful phenomenon and the scar on the face of Moscow.” Now, have I not been saying this all along?! Sheremetyevo is appalling and AT LAST someone in the higher echelons on the political sphere here is paying notice to this fact, and the fact that all us spoiled foreigners laugh at Russia for this, and its St Petersburg counterpart Pulkova Dva, where apparently BA pilots have been known to apologise to is customers prior to take off for the bumpy ride they will have. It is normal procedure whilst taxi-ing to take-off, here in Russia to dodge the potholes on the runway. Promising for the rest of the country...

2002-07-11T09:58:00.000Z

So here I am lying in my bed with my foot packed in ice. It is now Wednesday incidentally and I am forced to have a day off work for the sheer fact that I can barely walk without looking like the average crippled babushka. This will be a post-dated blog. Anyway…

Since coming to Moscow my health has been really tested, my body pushed to its furthest extremes and last night was another example of how old Mother Russia likes to have a laugh at my expense. Since I arrived in Russia I have had the worst case of flu that I ever had, complete with trippy dreams and a week of lying in bed trying to fight off Babs’ remedies, such as garlic vodka - although this I hear is mild, I do know someone with a genuine Russian babushka who when he was sick as a little boy would be forced to drink onionified hot milk, gross! This was followed by various bouts of food poisoning and my body acclimatising to all the Russian food, my skin and hair reeking havoc with me and a cat allergy to attend to in this society where cats seem to rule, but it is best not to get me started on Russian cats because you might not hear the end of it – one of Mason’s latest antics was pissing in a suitcase, charming. Moving on though… Spring comes around and Fiona is plagued yet some more by the balls of fluff that cat produces and then the birch pollen that is everywhere, these allergies become so bad that I get a bad cough from them, which in turn leads to bronchitis. Nice! I swear I have never been so sick. Sure as a child I had all the usual illnesses in some form or another but that is normal, and especially with a brother and sister also of similar ages living in the same environs and breathing their germs too. In more recent years though I have had a very normal, healthy existence. Russia though doesn’t like this and it seems to have been six months of one incident after the next, with me never being on top form. My latest complaint is that I think I am mal-nourished, and not getting nearly enough vitamins and minerals in my diet but I am not to worried because it is only three weeks until I am home being cooked all the food under the sun by my Mum – and I assure you it won’t be cabbage based! There will be lettuce, tomatoes, avocados, basil, green beans, balsamic vinegar and all sorts of yummy savoury things, followed by ounces of fresh strawberries, bananas, apples, oranges, grapefruits, mangos, and kiwis!

Now though it would seem that as I was getting complacent and laughing at the fact that it will all be over soon and I can return to being healthy, even out my weight and have shiny hair again, old Mother Russia was making plans for her revenge. I have become over cautious as to the whereabouts of my passport in case she gets her hands on that, or my ticket out of here. She has a different method to keeping my under her thumb though… To cripple me!

As per usual I was coming home last night after work and am always zonked after spending the day in front of a computer. I was thus on autopilot and was just looking forward to getting home, eating some appetising borsch (for maybe the 170th time in this short past few months) and settling down to work on my special study on the metro. Well anyway I was travelling on the metro and had done the to stops and change and it was almost my station and so I was making my way to the door. It was during rush-hours and so you can imagine there were hundreds of people squashed into the carriage and so I had to fight my way to get out. Eventually I managed to get off the train to the sound of the avto-devushka saying “ostaroganie deverit zakrivaitisa, sledishie stansia Leninskie Prospect / attention doors closing next station Leninsky Prospekt.” I was a millisecond too late though and the door caught my bog toe. Bastard. It caught the toenail and tried to eat it up, I pulled it away but the damage was done. The toenail had already turned grey-black and there was blood everywhere. Imagine stubbing your toe but ten times worse. It was like this. Once again the metro makes its mark on me…

I hobbled home cursing the world with every bad word in every language I could think of, with tears running down my face and leaving a trail of blood splodges behind me. I was in severe pain, had thought of hopping but with the size of my bag it wasn’t worth it and so I kind of hobbled along and not one person stopped to ask if I needed any help. It is well seen that nobody here was a girl guide! I made it home, by this time my sandals were well and truly ruined with all that blood, and babushka opened the door to me howling. I was distraught, although in all honesty I don’t know over what: the fact that my foot was in agony, the fact that my toe was going to look ugly for my forthcoming holiday to Denmark/Sweden or the fact that my shoes were wrecked?! Luckily Babs trained as a Doctor for a few years (this was before tragedy struck her life) and so she had no qualms about dealing with all that blood and gooey stuff, because I was in hysterics with all the mess, being the drama queen I am. She cleaned the foot up, disinfected it and then ordered me to lie on my bed and brought a big bag of ice to lie on my foot so it wouldn’t swell up the size of a balloon. And there I remained for several hours… In fact I am still there!

I can’t walk, I can’t put on shoes and the pulsating in my big toe is more powerful than in my heart. To top it off I finished my secret chocolate supply, well to be honest within half an hour of lying on my bed I had finished it. It was the shock that forced me to eat a snickers, bounty and mapc (three guesses what that is?) in the space of twenty minutes… Or maybe it was so that Mother Russia didn’t cast another spell and melt them. Who knows?!

2002-07-11T09:56:00.000Z

2002-07-09T12:14:00.000Z

I went to the theatre last night. Me and the Oz went, got some free tickets and so we went to see the 'spectacle' that everyone was raving about. I told my Russian friends and colleagues that I was going to see Moskovskaya Humoruna and they assured me that I would have a great time. Ha Ha Ha! Turns out that the Russian idea of a great time somewhat differs from mine, and as a matter of fact, so does the Russian Sense of Humour. The 'spectacle' as it was referred to was at the Moscow Comedy Theatre, which was great for me as it is in the part of town kind of relatively near to where I work and away from the 'very' centre and the masses of American tourists that seem to be there at the moment (queue imitation of fat american woman turning to her other fat american woman friend in the stalls of the Bolshoi Theatre "geeee, are you going to stay for the thuuuurd aeeect?" It's all too complicatud for me-eee, thinking I might go grab something to eat") . So yes, left work and took my lovely free company mini-bus (they pay me crap but I get perks... one not having such a very taxing job, two should I wish deepfried cabbage or other Russian Culinary delights I get it free, and three they taxi me to and from the metro station for free) to Ploshad Ilicha, where I took the metro a measly one stop to Marksistkaya. Here, in true Russian style - on the platform between the two trains - I met the Oz. From here we went into the blazing afternoon heat and decided that it would be a nice idea to try and eat outside. Found a yalky palky restaurant, where the waitresses dress up in folk costume and it is very twee, but hey the food's not bad. So, with friendly waitress service (ha ha ha) we had our dinner in true Russian style, with one persons dinner being brought ten minutes before the other and so on... I should know by now to order the same. I ordered some cutlets with mashpotato and I had to laugh when it came because although it sounded very fancy on the menu it was infact beefburgers and instant smash - do the Russians have no shame?! I picked at it and ordered ice-cream instead. Much wiser!

Anyway, so we found the theatre and it was PACKED. Every single seat was taken and there were people of all ages, I sincerely thought that this was going to be a fun evening. It was disgustingly hot, smelled of sweat and the seats were itchy but these things you deal with in Russia because well, you just do. I was seated next to a babushka who spilled over into my seat, especially nice. I awaited eagerly the start of the show and then without even dimming the lights this dude comes on stage and introduces the show. Basically this comedy show turned out to be.... a bloody variety show! Can you believe that?! If there is one thing I hate and LOATH beyond belief it is a variety show. Imagine my dismay thus to be presented with one in Russian?! I sat through singers, cabaret singers, dancers, comedians, poets and the worst of all... a ventriloquist! My ultimate pet hate! I was cringing all the way through. Sure it was good practice for my Russian and I felt chuffed to understand at least what they were saying, although I never once found it funny (Russian sense of humour is VERY different) which I guess might have defeated the purpose of such an evening.

Actually I tell a lie, there was one funny thing, a woman named Tamara Kushelevckaya doing an impression of a babushka. She was priceless, but I think I maybe found it more funny than anyone else there just because of my tendancy to have run-ins with such women in the metro etc... She was the best and I was almost tempted to buy her book at the interval, and ask for her autograph but I didn't, alas, because we were making a run for it. Yes, we only lasted the first part... hell but that was already close to two hours! Yikes!!! So there you go, my latest experience with Russian theatre...

2002-07-05T10:45:00.000Z

Yesterday was one of those days when I wondered the whole day long what kind of an insane thought process I went through to end up here… In Moscow!

I had the day off from work, with the intention of doing lots for my dissertation, ha ha! It would seem that my intentions were just that – intentions – and old Mother Russia was having none of it and was driving towards me at great speeds in that trolley bus of hers. What went wrong I hear you say?! Just about everything, I was left wanting to run down the street screaming.

Started off with me resisting the temptation to stay in bed and lull in the somewhat cool of the apartment compared to the already soaring-into-the-thirties temperatures outside, and it was only morning. So I get up, get dressed, usual (eat half a field of carrots, babs new favourite to give me ALL the time) and step into the heat of the city. Eouch, it was hot. I head for the metro, even more of a raging inferno than say, Hell, but I am used to it and as we all know I actually have a bit of a soft spot for it. One stop, change, one stop, change, few stops… Quite an exhausting journey, and my comments about the metro today is that the smell is worsening with an influx of garlic-eaters now using the metro. Perhaps during the winter and the spring I just never noticed it what with my face safely tucked behind my scarves, who knows?! Anyway, the metro ride yesterday was certainly not one of my worst but it was nevertheless an effort to not gag. So I get to my destination, the metro museum, and this being the busiest time of the year in the tourist season I might have guessed… Zakrit dlya remont, or in otherwords CLOSED FOR RENOVATION. One might say I was not a happy bunny, and there was nothing to be done the museum babushka would not let me in, not even for a big bribe. Bugger!

I turned on my heels and head home, only to be met with half a chicken that Babushka wants me to eat because she thinks that I am not eating enough, give me peace woman. Had to get out the house, what next?! Well there is the trip to the library… Trek into the very heart of the city this time, to the State Library – Biblioteka im. Lenina – and am all set for finding the list of books I want to read for the essay, and sitting down and trawling through pages of historical-ness in Russian. Not likely. I get there and I need a photo for my new card. What?! You cannot let me in with my passport and other documentation – it is compulsory here to carry half a filing cabinet with you at ALL times after all – you can’t just bend the rules once, not even in this corrupt society?! Turns out that all the babushkas had ganged up against me yesterday and were refusing to let me have my way, being obstinate head strong, well bitches! Now, had this been in any normal country I would have gone straight to the nearest supermarket and quite simply sat in a booth and had my photos taken… Not so easy here though. For starters supermarkets are few and far between, and then there is the fact that there aren’t any thrills to them so you can forget about photo booths. I wasn’t going to go to a photo shop either because the last time we did that it took over an hour (yes, for 4 simple passport photos) and so I thus head to where I know there is a photo booth for definite – the metro station near the flat. I go all the way back home pretty much, and approach the babushka at the photo booth, expecting to have my head bitten off. She was surprisingly lovely though, but of the fussing ilk. The deal is that you cannot use the machines by yourself, but they employ babushka’s to work the machines for you – because of course being human beings we are all incapable morons. I thus explain what I need and she is praising of my Russian with her “Maladetz,” which I guess would be something like “clever girl” and to be honest it was refreshing for my poor ego to hear these words and so I sat like a dummy for her and let her fuss away; putting my handbag where she wanted, letting her adjust the seat and smiling when she said so. She then wanted my passport because of course she had to write me a receipt, but then my passport wasn’t in Cyrillic and so she got quite upset because she didn’t know how to spell my name. In the end I told her I didn’t need a receipt but she insisted and so I ended up writing it for her. And all for photos, which in the long run was just to let me read some books. I was exhausted and hot, so I decided to go home seeing as I was so close and have some water, oh yes because if you ask for water here they think you want coca-cola or something else that isn’t water. Plain water is a foreign concept…

Get home and you can imagine what happens… Babushka tries to force feed me again, ice cream this time. I was in a foul mood and the last thing I wanted was ice-cream, and I lost all my will to go to the library. Of course a day off from the excitement of the paper world is a rare treat and so I didn’t want to waste it. Therefore I decided I would go to the post office and send some of my many acquired things back to the UK. I had been quoted a price by the post-office and so I had weighed all my things exactly and had more than enough money, and was happy to pay this amount because it was certainly far less than over-weight baggage that the SAS babushkas at Sheremetyevo Dump would more than likely try to sting me for. So, off I go in true babushka style I might add, with shopping trolley in toe and a stern look that said “It’s +32, I am hot and stressed and tired and so if you mess with me you are in BIG trouble.” Found the tram, a bit of excitement and step away from the norm but mainly because to get to the post office by metro is a torment, and sat in the oven temperatures until I hear the announcement for post-office. Not quite the friendly post-offices I am used to coming from the backwaters of Scotland, I assure you. In the whole of Moscow there must only be five or so big post-offices that deal with people wanting to send parcels to… heaven forbid… a foreign country. Yes, I am scathing but they call themselves an advanced society?! It’s a cheek, this is still stuck in Communism. Nightmare.

So I wait in the queue, which thank goodness I at least know which one to wait in due to past experiences, and then have three babushka’s rip apart my neatly packaged goods and re-pack them using official boxes with stamps, and they separate books and clothes. I ask them what they are doing and they tell me that books and clothes aren’t allowed to go together. I proclaim “but I had the exact weights that way, all was equal and nice” however they didn’t seem to care. They wrap the boxes up and demand me to write the addresses in English and then fill out new customs forms because the one I had wasn’t up to date. This took a good half an hour because I was writing in Russian and I had to itemize everything I was sending. Sigh. Then the time came to move to the next booth, wait in line and then pay. Well, I might have guessed that they had given me the wrong quote and it was way more than I had expected. The crazy thing was that my very heavy books cost far less to send than my somewhat lighter clothes, because books and books and clothes are clothes and that is the way it is. I had enough to send my clothes and so I sent my clothes, and inquired where the bankomat / ATM was. They pointed me to the exchange office, and so with my trolley filled with my heavy books parcel off I trotted to the exchange office but alas this being one of the main post offices in Moscow they don’t have an ATM. I wanted to cry. I inquired where the nearest ATM was and this insolent young man shrugged his shoulders in reply. At this point I was hopping mad, I mutter “Pochemy y nix net bankomat ha pochty, eto ochen glypie / why don’t they have an ATM in the post office, that’s so stupid” and stormed out on the hunt to find an ATM. Easier said than done. I walk for about a mile, with my heavy books in my trolley behind me, and eventually come across what looks like a cluster of shops. Nothing there. Oh, then I spot a metro and they ALWAYS have ATM machines in metro stations. Not this one. I thus take the metro to a few stops away, to a relatively big station near my house but the machine doesn’t have any cash and so I decide that there must be a bank outside somewhere. I was right, I see a bank at the other side of the street and so I dodge cars and put my life at risk to get there and be greeted with a sign “bankomat ne rabotaet / ATM not working.” My blood was boiling but I had to get this done that day because otherwise they would re-charge me the next day for re-packing, this being the way Russia is. In the end I take a tram back to my home metro station, take out some money there and take the half hour tram journey back to the post office where I finally managed to send my parcel.

It gets done eventually, but everything in this country takes a while and it is just exasperating. Even more so because I still didn’t get to the library and so that means that tomorrow, Saturday a free day for all, I will spend inside reading. Faaaablaaaaah! Bloody Russia!

2002-07-02T11:11:00.000Z

By public demand, I am back! Sorry, I have not been exiled to Siberia or anything half as dramatic or... exotic - surely there must be a better word for that?! My English has gone to pot with all this Russian-ness.

Reasons for my ephemeral absence though... Merely because nothing out of the ordinary has been happening here. Sure, there are still things that make me screech "What?" Or as I now have taken to saying with a look of disbelief "Chto?!" I am still amazed by walking down the street, and constantly puzzled by the random-ness of it all here (hey, it is MOSCOW) but life has become something which I just do. I am getting on with it, biding my time until I leave - in three weeks incidentally. I also have the nasty task of writing my dissertation, in Russian, and so have been consumed a lot by that - Blaaaaaaah!

So, what am I writing my dissertation on then?! Well, being a temporary Muscovite (and I swear that this is only temporary) I have really taken the Metro to my heart, not at least because it is a constant source of entertainment. I use the Metro every day, and spend about forty minutes-hour underground, battling with babushkas and drunken men from the South of Russia, who have eaten far too much garlic and really should invest in deodorants. Nevertheless, although I am often exasperated by these experiences I am in actuality a closet fan of the Moskovskogo Metropoliten. It made total sense to thus change all my plans, freak out my university lecturers and start a fresh with a new dissertation topic – on the Metro! What a stress it has been to kick-start the process of, ugh, academic work again but am now content in my work and am wading through papers upon papers upon papers. You would not believe how many people are obsessed with this one particular means of transport – there are countless books, webpages, essays, articles and even a museum! Lots to get my teeth into. Then there is my wish to interview my station manager and to find out what he thinks… “how does the metro really affect the lives of Muscovites?” Incidentally, should anyone want to make any comments and suggestions on this topic that would be fine…

On a more jovial note I have been having a bit of a crazy social life, well that is when I am not locked in a dark room with my dictionary and grammar books cursing the creators of the Russian language. The Weather is GREAT here at the moment, which is inspiring. We have had a few showery days but mainly the sun is shining over us, and it is extremely hot. Today it is +30, a little bit uncomfortable with the Russian air-conditioning systems (which would be almost nonexistent) and especially in the Marshrootka on the way to work this morning. They decided to dig up one of the busiest roads in Moscow and so we had to sit in a jam for half an hour, in the sweltering heat. Errr, nice. I had to laugh though because it gave me a chance to listen to Russian radio, always amusing, today I heard the Russian re-mix of that old nineties naff song “Please don’t go…” But enough about this radio and weather talk (I may be a GN but I am still a Brit at heart, huh?) and onto my social life… You would think that with my fellow goddesses out of the country and being alone now that I would be miserable. Not a chance! There have been parties, a night out clubbing, eating of pizza, another trip to Sheremetyevo Dump, a visit to an Irish Bar, sitting in terraces and soaking up the sun. I call them terraces, but please don’t be mistaken and imagine chic Italian furniture and people posing in Sunglasses. This would not be the case for the average place in Moscow, although there are a few ultra-exclusive places to go which do try to imitate the western European counterparts. Oh no, the average terrace is maybe three plastic tables and mix-matched chairs from wherever – the non-symmetry of this place is driving me nuts – and in random places. It is nice to sit in the sun however, and nice to spend time with various other people.

Highlight though would be on Friday night… I went to see A-Ha in concert at the Olympichiskee Stadium and it was fantastic. We arrived far too early, the Russians are as lax with time keeping as the Spanish, but it was quality entertainment to people watch the Russians and to see them get psyched. The hall itself was not bad, very Russian (awful toilets, Russian flags painted above the seats, really uncomfortable, not overly clean and for food no flashy fast-food takeaways or over-priced beer stands but merely small tables selling pieces of semi-stale bread with a slice of Kolbasa/Russian Sausage, which does constitute as a sandwich here) but all in all not bad and the sound was not too bad either. Of course I was not there to examine the hall but see Morten, Paul and Magne :-) Ahhhhh, living in an 80s bubble. I was really impressed by the concert, a really good mix of new songs and older… classics! Come on, Take on me IS a classic!!! I was left speechless at one point and I have fallen in love all over again. Aww, how sweet.

This was a bit of Scandinavian moment in my supposed to be Russian time, but I redeemed myself. Not only have I been walking on the Old Arbat a few times, a very Russian thing to do, but I made a trip to the Tretyakov Gallery (1st hall – the one with the old Russian art, I still have to go to the modern art hall with its Kandinsky and Chagall collections). I went with Alexei, a random Russian guy, and it cost 25 roubles for the ticket because he was Russian. Wait for the injustice… For a foreign student it costs 250 roubles and then more for a full-priced Russian ticket. That is at least a tenfold increase between the price of a Russian entry ticket and the price of a ‘westerner.’ For one who is paid a Russian salary it is sickening, a really expensive place to be, and it drives me nuts but at least this time, as I said, Alexei bought the tickets. I cannot remember every example, but aren’t other Galleries of this ilk in other places usually free?! Hmmm. Anyway, this at least was well worth the 25 roubles (0.5 GBP approx.) and I saw the oldest, most celebrated Russian Icon - a bit creepy really but then again I find Icons a bit creepy and they are everywhere here – and lots of Russian nature portraits and bla bla, it was an insight into the dreary Russian soul. My favourite though was Roerich (Russian scientist/artist who left Russia before the 1917 revolution and went to India and Nepal to study the way of life there) and in particular his paintings of Mt Everest. They are just beautiful.

This has been my news update… For what is happening here in Russia on the bigger scale, I will let you know that the news is over-flowing with stories of the collision of the Russian charter flight full of Russian children en route to Spain, with a DHL cargo plane coming from Bahrain to Brussels somewhere over Southern Germany. It is on every channel here because the kids were the offspring of more important people, and I couldn’t actually believe my eyes this morning watching the news because they named all of the passengers on the TV. Would this ever happen in the UK, the EU or in the USA?! Probably not… We have hotlines for the bereaved and worried, and don’t plaster the names on the news. What a way to find out, huh?! I am sure that someone must have found out like this, and it is just awful. Do the Russians have no compassion?! Amazing.

Well, on this note I shall head off… You should all be somewhat satisfied with this update, and I shall try be a bounce back to my old ways but with my dissertation on the forefront of my mind I cannot promise… Poka!!!

2002-06-10T09:02:00.000Z

Sunday 9th June, 2002: A little bit of everything!

It never rains but it pours and after a somewhat ephemeral absence (sorry fans, I know you were just pining for me) I am back, armed with a few more Moscow stories to keep you entertained. The reason for my absence last week was purely because I had a lot to do both outside and inside of work. There was Russian to be spoken, meetings to attend, people to see and market research to be done. Time was precious and just flying by. On top of this I did many errands I had been meaning to do for myself, including changing my ticket home. I now officially have my ticket booked for the 23rd July, Copenhagen here I come! Oh, and SAS are most definitely my favourite airline because they changed it all for bezplatno / free and the staff in the office here are wonderful, so if anyone wants to give them a gold star… Of course this never took up ALL of my time but then they were giving away free copies of their in-flight magazine Scanorama, and as you may well be aware I enjoy this magazine and so the aftermath of me going to change my ticket was great because it involved me refusing to move until I had read it cover to cover. Of course this was the only real time to myself because it was Sophia and Jemma’s last week and so they were flying around doing this and that, and I was hopping along too – enjoying the company of my friends while they were still here. It was purely up to them what we did last week and so they even had me at sports bar on Friday afternoon to watch the England-Argentina game… I am hardly what one would call a sports fanatic but nevertheless World Cup fever has hit me too.

So there we were in this sports bar on Friday afternoon. We were the only females there I think, and may have looked perhaps a tiny bit dodgy sitting there surrounded by western business men – you can use your imagination, but lets just say that if someone had come up to me asking “Skolko / how much?!” I wouldn’t have been surprised, although naturally I would have been furious because I was dressed very nicely, the reason for this was because I was to attend the British Ambassador’s reception for the Queen’s Golden Jubliee, but more of that later… Back to the game… Sat there drinking tea (needed to feel British, and I just don’t like beer) and watched a very nail-biting game. This was the first time I ever, and I mean EVER supported England because at the end of the day I am Scottish and it is like some unwritten rule that one must not support England if one is Scottish. Oh well, England is close enough, I do study there, I was with two English girls, they have a Swedish coach (go Svennis go!!!) and then there is the fact that David Beckham is quite sweet really – not the brightest of chaps certainly but nevertheless comes across as a nice guy, ahhhhh. So there it is, I supported England. Of course I was not quite as ‘in spirit’ as many guys there, who had painted their faces, were wearing wigs, were shouting E-N-G-E-LAND and singing the “one world cup, two world wars” anthem. Nevertheless I helped drown out the three Russian guys supporting Argentina and shouting “davai” as loud as they could. Ahaaa, but all the davai’s in the world were not going to help because England won. The atmosphere was amazing and not what I had expected coming from English football supporters to be honest, but it was tame yet people were obviously happy and smiley.

We took our three smiling faces down the New Arbat, and across the River to the British Ambassador’s Residence. The residence is the former Embassy and was converted when the British FCO built the most beautiful (modern) building in the whole of Moscow further down the river to keep up with the times. The building itself is very old and beautiful, with a fantastic location right across the river from the Kremlin. Not sure if such an obvious presence of Westerners was meant to scare the big chiefs during the Cold War times, but nevertheless it is very imposing and a piece of Britain right in the heart of Moscow – three-pin plugs included! The ground floor of the residence was open for people to wander freely, I guess incase the weather turned bad, but the party was in the back garden (how British, a garden party) under some very large marquees. Now, I have been asked to spill the gossip on this event but in all honesty there was not much gossip to spill. We walked up to the gates of the Residence (not quite the thing to do, one is supposed to be driven in a car), they inspected our invitations and we went inside to be greeted by line-up number one. I presume some kind of press secretary, or greetings person, who told us where the food was – which in all honesty was what I was really there for. Not the done thing to do, to dive straight into the food and so we wandered around the reception rooms and saw the library etc.. Bla bla, all very nice, pictures of the queen, lots of the books, oak-panelled walls but then (and what an atrocity) there were the signs that indeed this building was once used as an office and not just a grand place to hang out… strip lighting. How very naff and un-cosmo. A chandelier or two would have been far more appropriate… Anyway I bit my tongue and tried not to get too upset because it was then the time to go to line-up number two, this time to shake hands with the Ambassador (Sir Roderic Lyne) and his wife (Lady Lyne). They looked at the three of us not quite knowing why we were there and who we were, but hey-hoe I guess at the end of the day we aren’t yet the rulers of the world, or influential business men, and so we moved on into the garden. Nice. Marquees galore, a jazz band, lots of dressed-up people speaking English, fantastic food and copious amounts of champagne, wines, Pims and… IRN BRU?! Well, it is the British Embassy and this is Russian, the only other country other than Scotland to have an Irn Bru factory. Did the mingle thing, spoke to various people, found my parents friends here (he is a big-wig at the Embassy here and we knew them from Helsinki times) and smiled politely and listened to everyone go on and on. Quite a lot of ya-ya’s there, “OH – SUPAH,” and I couldn’t believe how much some people had dressed up (as if it were Ascot…) but then my amazement was overshadowed for a moment by the Ambassador’s toast to the Queen. “Hip hip horray, our queen has been on the throne for 50 years, how marvellous.” It was actually quite a good speech and the Ambassador referred to what has happened to Russia in this time, which brought us all back down to Earth but then he mentioned the football and the majority (Scotland, Northern Ireland and Wales are at the end of the day somewhat overshadowed by England) of the people there started whooping and cheering and then enthusiastically launched into the National Anthem. Quite cool really, the swing version, a bit more jazzy – but it always amazes me how many people do not know our Anthem… Did they not go to scouts or guides?! What misspent youths! Of course this fact never meant that the people there did not know how to party, and party they did. There must have been over 500 people there and I had a great time meeting lots of new We thus decided to hang around a bit longer and the party stayed in full swing until after it was meant to end. It was supposed to end at 21.00, but then it was Friday night and after the England game everyone was merry (including the Ambassador, who when we did actually speak to him was holding a can of Stella Artois – how glamourous) and so lets just say the party ran on. A great evening was had actually, despite the distinct lack of Ferroro Rocher ;-) Moving on though…

Saturday Jemma left at six and so I woke up to say goodbye, but declined to go with her to Sheremetyevo Dump because I don’t think I could handle it at such an hour, and not to forget that I would be going later on with Sophia… Yep, and so up it was to the very North of the city to my favourite place. UGH. They do have a saying here in Russia that the airport, or train station is the liitso goroda / face of the city, but I think perhaps the Sheremtyevo architects forgot about this, and since then so have the men in charge. Oh dear. It is just awful, and on a Saturday afternoon they had only 1 customs line open and so the queues were horrific. I waited with Sophia, who was surprisingly very calm (I assure you that in 44 days time I will NOT be calm) about going back home, but then it was time to say good-bye and I was so flustered with trying not to cry that I just kind of abruptly said adieu and ran off to take my favourite means of transport… the marshrootka, followed by my friend the Metro. It was the longest journey I have taken on that thing, all alone and feeling very sorry for myself.

I get back to the house and a miracle had happened. Lyuda (babs) wasn’t in! Can you believe that?! That’s the first time that ever happened. Normally she spends her days glued to the TV accumulating weight and mothering Mason, the cat from Hell. Of course this was the worst timing for said miracle because bimbo me had forgotten my keys and so I sat on the stairs outside the flat, like Padington Bear, and cried my eyes out. It was not the best moment I have had here in Moscow, in fact probably the worse. Concrete steps are cold and uncomfortable, and the window was jarred open so all the Pyx (white fluff, I know what it is now) was flying in and getting stuck to my tears and generally just pissing me off. Grrrrrr. I did the while cursing thing and closed my eyes tight, rubbed my shoes together and chanted “there’s no place like home” but I wasn’t transported to anywhere in North West Europe. Ahh, shucks. Eventually though Babs came back home (exhausted after her trek to the shop) and she was so sweet. She knew I would be feeling sad so she bought me treats – fruit and vegetables (this is a treat here remember, fruit doesn’t rate highly in the babushka school of cooking) and some… IRN BRU. Is there any escaping it?! It was very thoughtful of her, and the tears came flooding again, at which she went on smothering overdose and I was left kind of squealing “Pomogaitie / Help!” The scary thing was that it actually came out in Russian, not English.

And then there was one... So, I am very much alone. No other lunatics to keep me company, and just 100% Babushka and Dedushka. Well, this is in the house. I do plan to go out occasionally though (am currently looking for someone to go see A-Ha with me, I have a birthday party in a few weeks time and I have to sing and then I made new contacts on Friday, including a very cool playwright from Wales) and so I won’t be turning into a Brazilian soap opera addict just yet! Today I thought I would be bored stiff, and I was actually so then I turned to my Russian books and studied Russian for hours and hours. The next few weeks will be my most productive ones I think. Time should fly. I hope so. Anyway, my exciting news from today is that I can say that I definitely know my genitive case endings and when I am supposed to use it. OK, I know I was supposed to know this maybe two years ago but grammar and me just don’t mix, it slots into place afterwards and now it is slotting. Ohhhh! Surprisingly I am doing OK.

2002-06-03T08:14:00.000Z

I am now the fully-fledged owner of a Premier Minister CD, as in the guys who represented Russia in this year’s Eurovision. Not only do they sing Northern Girl in English, but they have an equivalent in Russian… something like “devushka severa” but in all honesty I cannot remember as I haven’t really had much of a chance to listen to it because it has been banned whilst in the presence of not so big fans of cheesy Euro-pop. I got it at the CD market, which I visited on Saturday and I am most proud that it is a genuine copy. It cost the same as all the other CDs (all illegal) but I presume that it has to in order for people here to but it, otherwise it would be overlooked by the cheaper international bands. The levels of quality are the same for illegal and legal CDs and so how thus do I know that my CD is genuine?! Well, Russia has a very simple way of making things official. From what I can see they stick these stickers on it, with holograms, or they simply stamp whatever it is with an ink stamp. Everything here has to be made official and so everything is stickered to prove its Russian authenticity (such as wine bottles or jars of caviar) or then it is stamped; everything from the faxes I receive in my office to menus in the dingiest of bars… The CD had a hologram stamp on it, and therefore is a genuine copy, unlike the other CDs we purchased. I feel very proud to own something from that market which doesn’t break laws in every other country (minus the Far East of course), it is a bit of a novelty. As I said, everything else there is highly illegal, and although the CDs all look genuine, they are not and so I get a pang of guilt that I am doing the record companies out of money. Not to bother though, I am sure that sales in the rest of the world will make up for this fact. Oh dear that was a very Russian thing to say. Russia is this machine that is so big that people think that it can carry them and so many Russians just step back, don’t make an effort and expect to ride on the hard work of other people. It is something that I have noticed and is perhaps why Russia is the way it is today. I think it stems from the Communist past, and is something that really should stop because it is dividing Russia. Therefore I shall continue to have a pang of guilt every time I listen to my fake CDs; but then again am I any worse than people who download music from the internet?! Lets not go there though… all a bit too complex and in depth.

Today I have other things on my mind, namely the fact that if I were in the UK right now I would be on holiday, partying away for the Queen. I appreciate that because the Russian’s are an extremely laid back race I don’t always have an awful lot of work to do and can thus spend time to do as I please (writing my blog for example) but at the end of the day I am still sitting here in my office and am here incase something does need to be translated or proof-read at the drop of a hat. The sun is shining, as it no doubt is back home in Great Britain, and after having read the BBC I want to be back there right about now and taking part in all the festivities. I mean, it is not everyday our Queen celebrates her Golden Jubilee, is it?! I am at heart very much pro-Monarchy and it is not often the British monarchy has something non-scandal related to talk about, but this… It is fantastic! I am inspired to go and buy a Union Jack flag and wave it, but of course I won’t and will sit here instead dreaming of back home and will wait for Friday night for a reception at the British Ambassador’s residence here in Moscow. Sigh.

2002-05-31T08:07:00.000Z

The fluff continues to plague Moscow, I left the house with a black shirt this morning and I now have a kind of black with white spots shirt, which matches quite nicely with my newly dyed (babushka tinged) clothes. Ahhh, but I am not complaining because the sun is shining and I am in a surprisingly good mood, and if I weren’t here right now then I wouldn’t be in such a state of disbelief, and life would be normal, far less odd and not quite so entertaining…

I, myself, have indeed been keeping myself up to date on Russian entertainment. Tomorrow I make the pilgrimage to Gabushka, the CD market where I can find any CD under the sun for about a sixth of what I would pay back home. Of course it is about as black as black markets get and breaches every copy-right law ever made, but the Russians don’t seem to care about such things. In fact they get quite into their own little second economy, and not only do they simply copy original CDs (with pretty good quality covers and authentic designs on the CD itself) but they also create their own “Best Hits of…”, which are hilarious. They mix up songs in any old random order and create very gaudy covers – perhaps with pop-art from the 1980s. Anyway the whole thing is highly illegal but great fun, I love going there and tomorrow I have a list of CDs I wish to buy, namely cheesy Russian pop. And how do I find these songs and artists?! Easy, I spend a vast deal of time watching the Russian music channel. It is not quite so addictive as MTV or VH1 because it is cluttered with interviews with the oddest of people and to be frank they bore me to tears, but it is nevertheless a good alternative and highly insightful into modern Russian culture, ha ha. I also prefer watching this channel to others because they never dub anything and so I can’t cheat and just train my ears to listen to the English in the background. Anyway last night I decided that I would catch up with the latest in cheesy Russian pop (see what the Eurovision has done to me?!) and I was amazed at just how cheesy it all was. Great stuff. The favourite at the moment is Sasha, a Kylie wannabe with an almost identical video to ‘Can’t get you out of my head.’ Needless to say it didn’t quite have the same catchiness, but then again it was afterall in Russian, and was called Dve clovo o liobov / Two words about love. Oh, and the singer was called Sasha and not Kylie, and there is already a Sasha in the cheesy pop world, or am I wrong?! Is that crooning German not called Sasha?! Anyway, it was really not bad, quite cool and I shall be looking for it tomorrow, with Premier Ministre – Russia’s Eurovision representatives. Am all excited…

Anyway, this is not the big news in Russian entertainment. Oh no. The big headline in Russia at the moment is that Oxhana flablablakova (a 24 year old Russian beauty from St Petersburg) has been crowned Miss Universe. She does indeed deserve to be crowned Miss Universe because she not only is she extremely beautiful, but she is so very multi-talented; she studies at a prestigious university, speaks English and Italian to high standards and no doubt promotes world peace. It is a big thing for a Russian woman to be given such an opportunity but good old Oxhana is a Russian girl at heart and so is thinking of turning down what is offered to her (the chance to travel the world, earn lots of money, live in a luxurious flat in New York, sign a prestigious modeling contract and study at an acting school) because she would maybe rather stay at home in St Petersburg, finish her studies and then work at… PULKOVA DVA! Now for those of you who don’t know, Pulkova Dva is the name of the airport in St Petersburg and it is meant to be the worst airport ever. I thought that its Moscow couterpart Sheremetyevo Dva was bad (so much so that I re-named it Sheremetyevo Dump) but apparently Pulkova is worse, and so it must be dreadful. I can only imagine what opportunities one would have working there, not! Well anyway, I am not surprised that she would want to stay at St Petersburg or indeed Russia because there is a lot on offer, it is her home and well, if you can live the highlife here you are well and truly sorted (it’s disgusting how much of a difference there is between rich and poor in Russia). What I just cannot understand is why this woman (incredible, beautiful, intelligent, with the world at her feet) would want to work at a dingy airport no doubt forced to sit in a box and stamp passports and VISAs all day. It is a mystery greater than the fluff phenomenon and so I shall go away and ponder… Any insights would be useful!

2002-05-30T10:02:00.001Z

Moscow is permanently inundated with white crap. In the winter it was snow and now, in the spring/summer, it is covered by this white fluffy stuff. I am not sure exactly what it is but I do know that it comes from trees and it just gets everywhere. You know those dead dandelions that have a fluff ball on top of a stem that just wants to be blown away, to float around the atmosphere. Well imagine that someone has found a million of these and blown them all over the city. Or it is like the fluff you pick off the mesh in a drier before you put a new batch of clothes in to dry, just imagine big clumps of white drier fluff flying around, caught in a breeze. They float all over the place - normally in my way - and get everywhere, generally tending to accumulate in big piles of white fluff in the most convenient of places such as just in front of the door to the apartment block. I quite like the snow, in fact I loved it when it had fallen fresh on the ground and was all fairy tale like and pretty and sparkly. I am not sure about this stuff though; it is just a bit weird and annoying really and it is strange to see big white piles that don’t turn brown, especially when people are walking down the street wearing not much clothing. The phenomenon of un-stripping, of wearing as little as possible is in full swing, but more about that later…

2002-05-30T10:02:00.000Z

2002-05-28T10:35:00.000Z

It is a great experience to live with a Russian Family, or in my case to live with a crazy Russian Babushka and her even crazier husband, who insists upon speaking to me in German all the time despite the fact that I am not German but British, hmmm. They are great fun, treat me very well and living with them is a real insight into how Russians really live, after all they are genuine run of the mill Russians. You can imagine that I am very happy to be there, there are a few glitches though…

Problem number one: Living with somebody old enough to be your grandmother, or who even thinks she is your grandmother or surrogate mother or something, can be a tad frustrating because they do grandmotherly things. They fuss, they cluck around you and they (of course) think they know what is best for you. I have a lot of independence and my parents are very cool, and so to be suddenly mollycoddled comes as a bit of a shock. Each morning it is the same thing, I wake up and then it follows the arguments over her wanting me to eat more - esssh, essho esssh - and not letting me out of the house until my hair is fully dry. This bugs me, I will be honest with you. It really does. I mean, I am old enough to know now that breakfast is the most important meal of the day and so I will eat something, but does that something really have to be a big plate of fried eggs with salami?! It is infuriating. And the hair thing… Russia is such a dry climate that as soon as I go outside it dries anyway. Of course I wasn’t going to go outside in the midst of Winter with wet hair; I would have been insane. It is now Summer though (supposedly) and so if I want to go out with slightly damp hair then let me woman, for the sake of my hair which doesn’t always like to be blow-dried! These ‘arguments’ are just two examples of what goes on, on a daily basis. There is also the constant watching of you (well the apartment is tiny and so the fact she can always see me I don’t blame her for) and the asking of questions and suggesting of ideas, just busy-body-ness really. Argh!

Problem number two: Every Russian granny has a fascination with animals, mainly of the cat variety. I guess it is something else to faff over and fatten up like a turkey for Christmas. There is no escaping animals here in Russia, and so I too have to deal with… the cat. I am not sure if I ever mentioned this cat before but Mason is the burden of my life, a big fat miaowing ball of fluff with a hideously ugly fat face. As I am now aware I have a bit of an allergy to cat hair and so ‘he’ irritates me beyond belief just by breathing, rubbing up against things and generally being cat-like. Of course no matter how much I may shut my door he still finds a way in to lie on my bed and lounge around as if he owns the place. Oh silly me, he DOES own the place. He is treated like royalty, at every miaow of a whim Babushka jumps up to feed him, hence he has become bigger then the average dog and he is given free reign of the whole house to pretty much do as he pleases. If this were not enough he also gets to use the toilet and if his potty isn’t on correctly he doesn’t scream like a baby (like he normally does for anything else) to get his potty back on the toilet so as he can do his business, but instead he does the toilet on the floor as he pleases, thus getting you into trouble for not replacing the potty. Evil cat. Argh!

Problem number three: Laundry. As much as babushkas have kind hearts (and my babushka is no exception to this rule, she is just lovely) their laundry skills are appalling. I have already mentioned that there is nothing they love more than to interfere and take over your life and so they revel in the chance to do your laundry. Of course this would be OK if they knew how to do laundry but the majority of them I have had contact with don’t. My babushka is very lucky in that she has the luxury of a washing machine and doesn’t have to wash by hand like so many others do, but she still manages to wreck a lot of my clothes. Even this morning I went through to the bathroom to take a shower (never a pleasant experience here I tell you) and the bathroom was decked out with drying laundry, fair enough. This would have been a normal occurrence and I would have helped Babushka to take down the laundry as usual, so she could go away and fold it and admire all the small things wistfully (you have got to remember that babushkas are mainly built like buses, ok?!) looking back on her youthful days, not this morning though. This morning I happened to be aware of what I was helping her to take down, namely my white underwear. Of course now it cannot be called that and should more appropriately be called off brown, looks as though they have been washed with Nescafé granules as opposed to Persil, grey colour underwear. This is a regular occurrence and babushka seems to think it is funny. Err, no! Argh!

So there you go, life with babushka can be fairly entertaining. They are a great species but perhaps a bit too much “in your face.” I have learned a lot from my babushka, she is extremely patient with my Russian (hurrah!) and is very kind to me, but there is a phrase ringing constantly in my ears… “the Road to Hell is paved with good intentions…”

2002-05-27T11:39:00.000Z

So here I am, writing from the dizzy heights of the third floor. Big changes here in Moscow, have moved office and am feeling more enthusiastic even just from the sunlight pouring in through the window, which has a more pleasant view than the former broom cupboard of an excuse I had before. Life is seeming more positive, and all this from a room with a view. The lay out of the new office is much better than before, I got to chose where we are sitting and so I have a better position with my desk and outlook. No longer have my back to Stas, so his eyes will no longer bore into the back of my head, wooh, and I have more space to move my swivel chair about on brand new polished wooden floors. It’s a great office, completely empty of other peoples crap, just mine and Stas', which is fantastic because I no longer have to look at the scary stuffed rabbit with Russian flag, weird Russian souvenir type thing. It was freaky, I swear it was, and so you can imagine how ecstatic I am to have blank clean walls, oh am having urges to decorate. IKEA frenzy!!! Of course it is not worth it with only two months left. Am still looking forward to going home, ultimately, but the fun continues at present to make my stay here in Russia just a bit more than bearable, and another good weekend was had…

Early to bed on Friday because it was then early to rise on Saturday due to the fact that we had a train to catch to Yaroslavl. It was a comfortable train and quite modern by Russian standards. We traveled first class, which is just like a normal train anywhere else in the world (except perhaps India) but it did have the advantage that they played movies on small TVs hanging from the ceiling, a bit like in planes except the quality was awful and they were taped off the TV and so we had badly dubbed "The Bodyguard" and "Coming to America." Great! I spent most of the 4 hour journey plugged into my walkman, dosing and trying my best not the let the man who looked like a rat and smelled of a brewery bug me too much, he was so miserably hung-over and invading my space that I was really getting agitated. Anyway we arrived in Yaro and met Lex, walked in the town and looked around. Checked into our hotel, which was not bad, clean and comfortable with amazingly friendly staff. I remembered that it is not Russians who are rude, but Muscovites – generally speaking that is. I was really impressed by the hotel staff and their smiles and helpfulness, and also by the size of the room doors; they must have been three-four meters high, made for giants. We then ate some lunch with a fellow student of the university of Bath, and saw the sights of Yaroslavl, including Alexia’s infamous hazaika/landlady, who has been named udte cyshut / go eat woman, a typical old Russian babushka of the interfering ilk. Sweet and kind but in your face, all the time. Poor Alexia! Did some more walking around and we wanted a drink and so had to master the bloody soviet style shops, the type where you have to remember the price and what brand it is and then pay upfront, get a ticket and then get someone to get it for you. SOOOOO stupidly and infuriatingly annoying. I avoid these at all costs in Moscow but this was all there was in Yaro and argh, it just wound me up. Again, poor Alexia! I did like Yaroslavl, it was very pretty and the people were generally happy – although this could have something to do with the fact that Saturday was their town day and so everyone was festive in a real party mode – but then it was quite provincial and I sometimes forget how lucky I am to be here in Moskva.

Unfortunately the weather was dreadful, reverting back to Winter here in Russia, and we didn’t have quite enough gloves and hats and scarfs to brave the cold for such a long time and so we headed back to our hotel, settled in for the night and watched the fireworks over the River Volga from the comfort of our soviet bedroom. The fireworks were fabulous, the Russians really put on a good show, and we spent at least fifteen minutes ooohing and ahhing. We also watched my ultimate favorite TV event of the year, the Eurovision. Ahhhhh!

The TV was tiny, black and white and the picture was really fuzzy, but I persevered being the determined little thing I am. It was also dubbed into Russian a lot of the time, which was infuriating, but then being in Russia it is to be expected. It was quite late, us being two hours ahead of CET so we were all snuggled up in our jammies (the temp was about +7 Saturday) and had snacks, yeah! Alexia and Sophia watched too, Alexia got really into it but by about half way through Sophia had given up and fell asleep. She fell asleep during Denmark, no surprises they came last, and so she missed the best two songs Malta and Latvia, oh and Slovenia with their six men dressed up in sequin airhostess uniforms being decidedly camp, hilarious and a far cry from the usual leggy Slavic women! Did the whole SMSing my brother and sister all the way through, from three different countries, yes a very normal and functional family I have when we bond via sms over Eurovision. My brother was texting me in French and... Swedish, have no idea where he finds these words from but he was inspired, this being a Euro event, bless. I watched it all the way through and decided to give my 12 points to Lativa, my ten to Malta and my eight to the good old UK and then Russia. The Russian entry, incidentally, has been playing on the Radio all the time here and the support for “Prime Minister” on Saturday night was amazing. On Russian TV there was a night of Eurovision planned with a chatshow type programme in all the breaks where in other countires you would have seen the entertainment in Estonia itself. In these breaks there were clips of people screaming and shouting about Russia’s very own boyband, Westlife watch out! In the dubbing also, anytime Russia got any points the screaming of the interpreters was very high-pitched and loud. Very patriotic Russians! Couldn't believe how spot-on my Eurovision judging talents were when the results came through, it was very cool, and so next year Eurovision will probably be in Riga - very cool, showing the rest of Europe a bit more of the Baltic States. What an excellent opportunity for Lativa, although I can’t help but feel this is rigged and that the EU are trying to let the rest of see what could soon be closer to home than we think. An excellent evening all in all I think, and I have no shame in admitting this but I will be purchasing Russia’s entry, reminding me of my Russian Eurovision experience.

Sunday we got up eventually and took showers in a scary shower room, a tad reminiscent of Aushwitz or something. We then walked along the River Volga and went to a park and sat sunbathing in our gloves and scarves, before we took the train back to Moscow. Again we traveled first class but I needed the bathroom after about 30 minutes (of a four hour journey) and in the end I had to sit cross-legged for the whole journey so it was very unpleasant and quite uncomfortable. It wasn't so much as a bathroom but a piss-smelling box with a hole in the ground. I couldn't even go in the room let alone think about squatting, even if I have become an expert at that since Russian toilets never seem to have toilet seats, I mean not even in the Bolshoi theatre (honing place of many tourists) do they have such things as toilet seats. Anyway I got home and was so relieved to be back, was quite shocked over my reaction because it must mean I am feeling somewhat at home. Ahhh, next thing you know I will not want to leave Moscow and will be sucked into the Russian way of life and will be drawn back forever and ever… Ok, maybe not! But another inspiring weekend, which leads to hopefully an inspiring week…

2002-05-22T11:36:00.000Z

As most of you will know (hopefully you might have figured this one out by now) I am in Russia because of my university degree, in this programme the requirement is that you have to spend three months in each country of the language you study in order to work on your language skills. I decided to spend more than double that required time here in Russia because, well, my Russian was pretty bad. It still is not brilliant but from the dire state it was in, I can see an improvement and so with this in mind I have decided to leave Russia a bit earlier, although I am still doing double the required time. I guess thirty days less in Russia doesn’t sound like an awful lot, but thirty days in this country and especially in this city, is an eternity to me. I now only have two months left here and I am glad about this. It’s enough time for me to really crack on a bit more with my Russian, learn more about this fascinating country but then at the same time, chopping off thirty days from my stay might just save my sanity. I am only living a half-life here, am not fully involved in the way this country works. The reason being that I have a different mentality and a completely different upbringing to the average Russian person. I am a definite stranger to this land, and I always will be. Nothing here makes sense to me, and I doubt it ever shall, so life here can often pass me by or then it can hit me in the face. It depends on my luck. I do like it when it hits me in the face as I have something to think about. Today and yesterday though life passed me by, I am living in my own sphere, working and trying to learn Russian whilst looking at the Russians and wondering how to get close to them. It’s far from easy.

2002-05-20T12:57:00.000Z

What a busy, fully-fledged-Goddess-like weekend I had. I am grateful to Russia that it is making me such a well rounded person; I am not only learning another language but am soaking up so much culture by being here and am working on my personal skills to no end, for example I’m becoming extremely tolerant it is quite unreal. The best of it is that I am getting all of this, and having fun and when one can do that life is fantastic. As you can see, I am in a very good mood today, despite the fact that it is snowing outside in the middle of May. I shall explain my reasons, but as I mentioned it is because I had such a fantastic weekend.

Friday night I met some girlfriends and we went to our favorite Russian café, Pirogi, which is not very typically Russian, but Russian enough so as I don’t feel guilty for being a cop-out by living in Moscow alongside fellow outsiders, as opposed to some place where they have one foreigner a decade coming to visit. Anyway, Pirogi sells ‘Western’ food alongside the little Russian pastries and pies and beef stroganoff, and the atmosphere is great. It is always packed, with Russians and foreigners alike, and the best of it is that it is really quite inexpensive. I have probably raved about it before. Well anyway, we went there on Friday night and had some food, and then some drink… Oh dear. Now, you know how you can get a karaff of wine?! Well here in Russia they replace that with Vodka, which comes in handy so as one doesn't have to go to the bar all the time but is not such a wise thing for me, a girl not capable of drinking shots without falling over type thing. Nevertheless, I was outvoted in my sensibleness and going along with the spirit of things, seeing as it was Friday night and we were having a girls night out, we ordered a karaff of Stolichnaya and anytime one of us even so much as thought about ranting about Russia we had to drink a shot. We were trying to have a fully positive evening vis a vis Russia, but you can imagine where that got us. Great fun! By the end of the evening I was probably the most pro-Russia I had ever been, it was good to feel like that. Go, Russia, Go!!!

Saturday I didn’t feel so inspired. I felt like crap to be honest, and would have stayed in bed all day in a comatose but instead I dragged myself out of bed, and as promised went into town in the search of a bit of culture. First stop: The Kremlin. As ever, beautiful, yet annoying how as tourists we can only go to certain parts and how, as foreigners, we have to pay at least four times the price of what a Russian pays. For someone who is paid a Russian salary, this can be annoying to say the least, but if needs must then bankruptcy it will be. It was not a day for hanging around though, Sophia and I had a mission, to see some diamonds. We walked across the Kremlin to the door to the Diamond Fund and there was a soldier standing across the entrance looking mean and menacing, not a promising sign. Being young girls we were pushed aside by some rather rude old women who obviously thought they were more important than us, but they were a bit scary and so we weren’t going to fight them – big chickens that we are. Basically the soldier explained that there were no tickets to the Diamond Fund and that we should come back tomorrow. What, no tickets?! We were gutted, not only had we been looking forward to this but we had paid entry to the Kremlin in order to find this out. We were not going to let this one go, and so decided to use our feminine charms and with a big smile, and once the scary old hags had disappeared, we asked if there were tickets. He heard we were foreign and we negotiated a price. There were tickets, if you were willing to pay the western price, which we had already presumed we would have to pay anyway because not even with a student card from a Russian university can foreigners get into museums for the Russian price. Felt a bit bad that it wasn’t our feminine charms, but our ‘American’ accents that had paved our way but we were getting in, so we stopped complaining. Of course, when we got inside to the Kassa the two women behind the desk refused to serve us and despite the fact that the Soldier had let us in, we were told there were no tickets. Not even for the ‘Western’ price. We were not leaving until we had seen some Diamonds though, and Sophia quite rightly (this is the only way to be in Russia) was a bit bolshy and, staring at one woman, said “what, are you going to ignore us then?!” Am not sure if she understood, but she got the tone and so again we were able to negotiate a price and got our tickets, just two minutes after she had told us there were none available. I love Russia and the way that people just don’t want to help you, I cannot figure out if it is disgust at us or if they are plain lazy but anyway it gives me something to think about. Anyway…The Diamond Fund/Almaznie fond. It was so impressive I was close to tears; although now I think of it, it was probably out of jealousy and knowing I would never own something so beautiful. Catherine the Great's crowns and tiarras, necklaces and bracelets and matching sets with diamonds, sapphires, rubies, emeralds you name it... and MASSIVE ones too. It was awe-inspiring. Sophia and I were almost running from cabinet to cabinet with the excitement of all those sparkly things and now I just want diamonds, diamonds and more diamonds... In fact any sparkly rocks/jewels :-) Not fussy... I am in awe of Russia’s diamond collection, but a bit sickened by the fact that if they sold some of them to say the Sultan of Brunei they could relieve some of Russia’s debt. Something to think about, but in the meantime I was contented to have seen such beauty.

Yesterday was inspired to see more and so went to The Pushkin State Museum of Fine Art. Again I had to pay more, this time six times more, than the average Russian but at 60 roubles I was not complaining, and especially when we saw the treasures inside. WOW. Perhaps even more impressive than the Diamond Fund, and surprising how many original works of art the Russians had, and kept secret until not long ago. Skimmed through the sculptures, the icons, the Egyptian pots etc, the Italian and Dutch paintings from the 1400s type thing and the Greek memorabilia but then spent hours in the galleries with more recent art. Picasso, Degas, Van Gough, Monet, Manet, Matisse, Munch, Chagall, Cezanne to name but a few... There were LOADS and we didn't realise that they were going to be in Moscow, and so easily accessible. Again it was like setting an Ethiopian loose in a supermarket... we just went bananas and got worked up the more famous pieces we saw. We had no idea they would be here, thinking they would be in London, Paris or New York, but Moscow rivals the Louvre, Tate and Metropolitan with this Gallery, seriously. My ultimate favourite was a painting by the Norwegian Munch, called "Girls on the Bridge," or at least that is what it was in Russian. It’s not like his other paintings in that it was quite serene, but I was drawn to it anyway. There was a real attraction for some odd reason; perhaps the simplicity of it or its colours. There were so many more 'famous' pieces, and this one was not even featured in my museum guidebook, but this was the one I liked because it was so familiar to me and evoked more emotions. When I got home I realised why. I was putting my new art book on my shelf and rearranging my books, when I came face to face with the same picture again. That was why I had liked it. The same picture was on the cover of one of the best books I read in a while. Ahaaaaa. The French version of Marianne Fredricksson's 'Anna, Hanna och Johanna,' "Hanna et ses filles." I loved the book, and cried my eyes out reading it it was so good and so subliminally I must have associated the cover to be connected with the story and that was why at the gallery I was fixated with this picture, and not my usual favourite Matisse or Picasso – although, I will admit that I nevertheless enjoyed them very much. The Pushkin Galleries are now up there with the Musee D’Orsay in my mind, and I had a great time.

So, all in all it was a culturally filled weekend, good fun and then last night I worked for hours on my Russian grammar and got really into it... what a geek! How virtous did I feel though?! Fully fledged all round goddess :-) Am in a good mood with Russia!

2002-05-17T10:50:00.000Z

The random-ness of life here in Russia continues… As if yesterday’s super mullet weren’t bad enough I came back home last night (during a downpour I might add, consequently being soaked to the bone and taking on the appearance of a shabby dog) to an empty house. Where on earth had Babushka & Dyedushka gone?! They never leave the house, life as I know it involves them cloaking around. So it was very spooky indeed that they had gone out (and to a party I might add, hooligans) and we were left in the house like kids when parents leave them alone for the first time. Wooh, wooh, party! My continuation of Russian Grammar tackling plan was thrown out of the window, and after my micro-waved dinner of borsch (see I really have regressed to not even cooking, it’s all the babushka mollycoddling), I thought it would be a good plan to listen to some music (Russian pop, excellent stuff) and take a serious look at my stuff and consider how on earth I am going to get it back to the UK, via Copenhagen and Amsterdam. Any excuse not to do hard work, huh?! Of course it was a much better plan to go through my clothes and decide what I could really leave behind if I had to, and at least I had some Russian music on in the background and I do learn from this a bit. Oh, and I have a new song to rival the classic “Ah Vernisage” by the same singer, Laima Baikal. This song is so extremely cheesy, it puts Cheddar to shame, it is called “Esho ne Vecher / Still not the Evening.” Just great. However, when I was listening to this new favorite Russian song of mine I couldn’t quite drown on the Radeeo Rossiya / Radio Russia, that Lyuda (babushka) leaves on all the time, and this is where it gets surreal… On the Radio last night they were playing what I would refer to as elevator music, something more along the lines of muzac, akin to panpipe music. This is difficult enough for me to handle, my body curls up into a ball and I try to close my ears… Last night they were playing Christmas Carols in this style of music. That’s right, as in “Oh come all ye faithful” and “Oh, little town of Bethlehem” muzac style, in the middle of May on national radio. Whacko!!! As if it is not bad enough that these Russians have to have a different Easter, two months later than the rest of us, are they now trying to introduce Christmas in May?! I do wonder about the insanity of this country, and I am sure it is not just my little sphere of things because it was national radio. Hmmm.

At least one thing has been cleared up for me though, the tree problem. I was having troubles coming to terms with why the majority of trees are painted white half way up the trunk. It looks really silly, and then the white gets grubby with all the pollution and it just bugged me so much I had to get to the bottom of why people did this, was it just to give one of the mass unemployed here a job?! They do seem to have so many pointless jobs after all, and the bank of Russia employs a whole 85,000 people and goes round in circles with bureaucracy. How many people do the bank of England, or the bank of Scotland employ? Anyone know?! I doubt it is as much as that… Anyway, my point was that I had to get to the bottom of the mystery and so I asked everyone I could think of (getting funny looks all the while) and no one seemed to know. I might have known though that Victor, being the mine of useless information he is, would have known the answer and so I bring to you his very own words:

“So here's the answer to your question about the trees - rodents. The white stuff on the trees is basically paint with some nasty stuff that tastes bad mixed in, it stops rabbits and other wee furry animals from munching on the bark. This doesn't happen in the UK because there's always plenty of green grass to go around, but during the Russian winter (can I hear you say COLD??) there is no grass, so the wee furry things tend to munch on trees etc. The white paint stops them from doing so, otherwise the trees will die...That's is! Have anymore exciting questions? Send them to 'da man!”

Thanks Vic, this clears up one query, perhaps you know the reason behind the Christmas Carol playing in May?!

2002-05-16T10:42:00.000Z

Am swamped with work, having meetings and gathering information for the presentation I have been asked to write. It is nice to have something to do, when often I sit here in the office twiddling my thumbs - or writing very long blog entries as it may be - but at the same time it is a bit cringe-worthy. I am creating a masterpiece about the paper lover's club that my company created, yes indeed it is a sad, sad world. I think that as an employee I am an official member of this club, woo woo Ya lioblio bymagy (meaning woo woo I love paper, in Russian). With this sad fact revealed, I will at least try to redeem myself by saying that I am still a bit too cool, looking a bit Cosmo today. The same cannot be said for the woman I saw on the Metro this morning. I think she was the only person in the whole of Russia who doesn't own a mirror, Russian women are very vain and can rarely walk past a mirror without stopping to check themselves in it first. I admit that I am vain myself, but I'm vain in British terms. The Russian obsession with mirrors is unparalleled; they are everywhere. Obviously though, they’re not in this woman's house. I am still coming to terms with the fact that a vast majority of men here still have that early eighties mullet hairstyle going on, and I am almost there in my understanding of it - I think they feel like it makes them look like Gods perhaps. What I will never comprehend though is why women insist on having them too, the rat’s tails swishing across their backs like manic wind-screen-wipers. Considering that most Russian women are infact very vain, and do make an effort with their appearance and pride themselves on being the (aheeeem, and this was quoting some article in last months British glamour magazine about Moscow style divas) "best-dressed" women in the world, this was a real shocker this morning. She was definitely letting the side down with her mullet. And not just any old mullet, but the Queen of naff mullets. It was curly on top, a very bad perm, and then very long and straight and straggly all the way down her back from the nape of her neck. Hideous. Jemma and I admired it at first thinking that the women had forgotten to tie up her hair before she put her wig on, but alas this was not the case. It was a Mullet. Yikes. Very scary. Not only was the style but it was badly dyed, and in bad condition. Vidal Sassoon would have shrieked in horror. It was amazingly different to anything that I ever have seen, and I have been in Russia for a good while now. I don’t think that I will ever be bored here; always something new to see. Oh, and learn… The Russian word for hair dresser is parikmaher.

2002-05-15T06:55:00.000Z

Greetings again from Moscow, where the sun is shining from a piercing blue sky and the temperature is well into the twenties. Am feeling extremely upbeat and despite the fact that I am living in most definately one of the worst polluted places in the world, I am inspired to go outside and run around. This would not be such a wise idea in the shoes I am wearing today (am making an effort to fit in with the Russian stiletto wearing women, remember?!) and so I shall not venture to run through the streets afterall. Probably safer anyway, wouldn't want to get run over by a random LADA now, would I?!

This is not me being synical in anyway I swear, I already mentioned that the sun is shining and I am highly weather-dependant at the moment. Oh no, getting mowed over by a Russian car is a highly possible occurence. I should know after having been the victim of many attempts, by jumped-up drivers of equally jazzed-up tincans on wheels with blacked-out windows. This is a favourite hobby of the average Russian driver, to mow down pedestrians. I have to admit it does make driving more interesting, I often drive about when I am at home and yell things like "20 points for the kid in the Kappa track-suit" or "20 points for the rollerblader with the big bum" just to make the drive a bit more interesting. Of course (although I am often indiscreet) I do this purely for my pleasure, or perhaps to scare my passengers and behind closed doors. No-one else knows about it, least not my 'target'. I would never really even attempt to run over anybody. Russians do though, and it is a terrifying experience to have to cross the street sometimes. I can't blame them to be honest, even in this big city the entertainment is pretty limited and so they need something to make them smile. I just don't really appreciate when I am their victim and seem to thus spend a lot of time dodging cars or trying to find zebra-crossings. I don't know why I even bother with that because the crossings mean nothing for the Russians, the LEAST law abiding people in the whole wide world.

And the reason for this sorry fact?! Well, for a start the Russian's don't soom to even have laws, as such. Or if they do, they are very liberal laws and not very considerate of people. It is crazy. If a car ran over a person in any western-world country and the driver was responsible, the driver would most undoubtedly be sent to prison / have to pay a massive fine / complete community service / something. Not being a lawyer I am not very clued up but I do understand that the driver would be punished, and would most definately loose his licence. Ha ha, not the case in Russia. From what I can gather the punishment here is a small fine, that's it. OK, maybe they also get a pat on the back from the Militzia (the Militzia being nasty pieces of work in my mind) for getting rid of one more person they have to spot check; especially if the poor pedestrian was from Chechniya. It is a nightmare. As a person you don't feel in control or empowered without a box and four wheels around you. You are a nobody if you are a pedestrian and the Russian way is to make you feel like that, hence the slack laws on mowing people over.

Every day the journey to and from work is an achievement, not only the Metro trip (and don't get me started on this again) but the walking at either end of it. You never know when a car will come screaching out from behind another car and come hurtling towards you at full speed with the intention to send you flying through the sky - you know, just because it is cheap entertainment... "100 Roubles, ahhhh, cheaper than going to the cinema!" So even on days like today, when there is not much going on in life but the mundane metro-boulot-dodo I can feel as if I have really accomplished things. A bolshoi pat on the back goes to me for managing to cross the road this morning, coping with the swarms of smelly people on the metro, doing my job (which involves meetings with real live Russian people) and then coming home and having to tackle more death-trap roads before I can close myself in the sanity of my own home, or insanity as it may actually be. You see, the never ending cycle of insanity, this is what Russia is. Thank goodness the sun is shining or I might not be able to laugh and would be somewhere close to banging my head of a hard surface. Long may the Summer continue!!!

2002-05-13T08:24:00.000Z

After a long time, I know – sorry, I am finally back. Lots of reasons why I have not written, mainly due to my travels and then a nasty bout of bronchitis, which has me banged up in bed. I don’t tend to do things in brief, as we all know, and so I will go into more detail than one sentence. I kept track of what I have been up to and so I’ll write it down, like a kind of postponed blog. I promise to try and be concise but bare in mind that I am at present in my bed with my laptop, a bit doped up on drugs and with not much entertainment other than Russian TV (shockingly bad – these Russians have a bit of a fetish for Brazilian Soap Operas, which they dub into Russian so badly that you can still hear the Portuguese in the background) and so I may just end up waffling and this could turn out to be the longest blog entry ever.

The last time I wrote was at the end of April and on and off since then it has been Prasnikum here in Russia, which means holiday in not so many words, and an excuse for me to take advantage of this and travel. My girlfriends also had this holiday off from their respective Russian language courses and so we decided to go to Finland. The diary of this trip is as follows:

Saturday 27th April

The official start of my holiday, yeah. Spent the day packing and getting organised with last minute preparations. It has to be said that I am not a fan of backpacking and so with my roll-aboard suitcase eventually packed, off we (Aleixa, Sophia and myself) headed to the other side of Moscow to Leningradsky Voczal in order to take the sleeper train to St Petersburg. The whole concept of sleeper trains is something that I just love, you go to sleep in a little room and then wake up, having been transported to a completely different place. My expectations of a Russian train were also quite high, this being one thing that I believe the Russians can do – just look at my obsessions with the Metro, and then there’s the Trans Siberian that goes constantly back and forth, back and forth across Russia, day in day out. The train was indeed great, the Red Arrow express. We were fortunate that we were three but nobody else shared our cabin and so we had the space to relax and be ourselves, without some random stranger who would most definitely have felt uncomfortable at the presence of three foreign giggling girls. After much chit-chatting, mainly about Russia, we fell asleep in our little vinyl beds and woke up in the city of the Tsars.

Sunday 28th April

St Petersburg had been described to me, by a few people, as being ‘a bit of a dump,’ and so I was highly surprised to arrive there and find it to be breathtakingly beautiful. It was obviously not as ‘western’ as Moscow, and it is clear that not as much money gets put into this city but then again the architecture was much more beautiful to begin with, felt much more European and had the advantage of being on the sea with many winding canals. It was stunning. We dodged the ever present taxi drivers offering us ‘devuskie’ rides for ridiculously high prices, as if, and took a marshrootka down Nevskie Prospect, past the Hermitage and Winter Palace, across bridges and through the pot-holed and run down streets to Denise’s house, where we deposited our bags before doing the reverse journey back into the very centre of town, where we had to meet up with one of our lecturers from the University of Bath who had come to Russia to check up on us. We ate a brunch with her, and some other students at the famous Idiot café – this of course, was after we got lost / confused by all the canals looking the same, oops. Although it was beautiful and I felt like I was truly on holiday, the weather was so good and I felt like I was a million miles away from Moscow, I was still in Russia. There was the ever-present smell of Russia lingering in the air, the people were just as miserable and rude as in Moscow (you can forget customer service in this country, it doesn’t exist) and the streets were so dusty my eyes were still itchy and watering, and my throat was sore. Could it be that I was really allergic to Russia?! This was a theory I had, and would soon test out when we arrived in Finland. First of all though it was the bus trip… We arrived at the bus stop and this amazingly nice, brand spanking new coach pulled up to whisk us away to Helsinki, which is only a 350km journey. The journey was, however, to take eight hours and although our bus was indeed comfortable it was to be the road to Hell (- sinki, ha ha ha). Why, you might ask, does it take eight hours to travel such a short distance?! Ah well, the reason is this… First of all you drive to Vyborg (a Swedish built fortress town on the Russian side of the Finnish border) where we had a 25 minute break for all the Russians on board to go and smoke / stock up on food / buy beer etc… Then it was passport control by a Russian soldier #1, then passport control by a Russian soldier # 2, passport control by a Russian soldier #3, then everyone off the bus to actually physically walk through passport controls on the Russian side and have the Russian border control people scrutinise everyone’s exit visas, back onto the bus and then a duty free shopping trip and another excuse for these Russian’s to smoke. This was all at three o’clock in the morning, and so you can imagine the comments that were being uttered from the mouths of me, and my friends. We were the only non-Russians on the whole coach and so we thought we would all be safer and more at ease when we got back onto home, or at least European Union, soil. Not even was this the case though because when we decamped the bus to go through border controls in Finland, the Finnish guys scrutinised our passports to make sure they were real. This really pissed me off, and so instead of saying “kiitos” (the Finnish for thanks) when I got back my passport I replied with the Swedish “tack, ” which I knew would have pissed them off as equally as they pissed me off for thinking I was Russian with a fake British passport, huh – how dare they?! After three or four more stops we finally arrived in Helsingfors, sticking with the whole Swedish thing here.

Monday 29th April

My lovely kind friend Nanna (Finnish, very well travelled, multi-lingual and quite like minded) has just recently moved in with her boyfriend and so she let us use her apartment, which was just lying there vacant. I have always loved her apartment, right in the very centre of Helsinki and very compact, small yet with everything one could possibly need or want. I used to spend a lot of time there when I lived in Helsinki and so it felt like a home-coming to arrive there, and what a relief after such a horrendous journey with the infuriatingly annoying Russian bureaucracy, you have to understand that it really is mind bogglingly stupid and at six in the morning I was ready to bang my head off a brick wall. Instead I decided to put my time to better use, and sleep, you know in order to recuperate for the shopping trip that would follow. Where to go in Helsinki?! Everywhere. We wanted to see everything. Although Russian women take a lot of care in their appearance and there is an emerging class of women who dedicate their lives to shopping, shops in Moscow are ridiculously bad, and so we went crazy. Being a student I couldn’t exactly go mental but I can always get ideas for future times, and so was more than happy to go to Stockmann (the Finnish dept. store), Zara, Sisley and of course, H&M. In fact, at the entrance to the big H&M store in the Kämp Galleries it was like returning to our mother ship. Imagine, we had a ready steady go even. After this it was time for replenishments, and so off we went to meet Nanna under to clock at Stockmann, which is the place to meet in Helsinki should you ever go there and want to look cool. Continuing on the cool goddess theme, we then went and sat on the terrace at Teatteri, which is this club restaurant type place at the top of Esplanadi Park. I regularly used to go there a few summers ago, just after it was renovated, and I went there in November when I was in Helsinki visiting Nanna and Jenelle. Perhaps it was the fact that I was dressed like a bum because I was ill, or perhaps I wasn’t cool enough, or looked shopped out, or perhaps it was the fact that my accent was bad when ordering, but when I ordered a pear cider (never in the world, other than in Sweden and Finland have I seen this phenomena – and I am so glad I discovered it because it is just very refreshing and comforting to drink cider on a summer terrace) the bar man asked to see ID. I hadn’t been carded in a very long time and so I was chuffed to bits in one way, at the same time though I was a bit upset that he didn’t want to serve me and I thus wanted to lean over the bar and smack his face. Needless to say I didn’t, my levels of tolerance have risen since I have lived in Moscow, ha ha.

Tuesday 30th April

Long lie, shopping, trip to the post office, lunch in the Fazer Café, more shopping – or as it would be, looking in the shops – relax. A normal day, but not for long, because this was Vappu eve. After randomly bumping into a girl from my class at the International School of Helsinki we met up with Nanna for the start of the festivities. Vappu. How can I explain it?! It is basically the first of May, an old socialist holiday, which the Finns have turned into an excuse to party hard. It starts on the 30th at 18.00 with the Havis Amanda Statue being washed down by a ‘privileged’ group of university students and crowned with a white graduation hat. The graduation hat is white and looks like a sailors hat, and everyone who graduates from a Finnish high school has one – I even have one – and they then re-vamp them and alter them when they continue with their respective educations, for example engineers add tassels. When the statue at the Harbour is crowned with such a hat, the spectators cheer, then follow suite. This marks the start of the Finnish summer I think, or something like that, and the whole of Helsinki comes to a standstill with the partying that follows. On the eve people tend to attend parties, which we did at Nanna and Patrick’s (her ultra sympa boyfriend) flat, a lovely party with great food and sovietskoe champagneskoe (classy, huh?!) Unfortunately I was feeling really bad, my cough seemed to be getting worse and my eyes were continuing to itch and bug me. It clarified one thing for me though, at least I know it is not an allergy to Russia that I have. So we left, and would have to make up for it the next day’s festivities.

Wednesday 1st May

Vappu. As is tradition, and when in Rome, we went to Kaivopuisto (or Brunnsparken as they say in Swedish, a big park by the sea) for a picnic. We walked through the old streets of the city down towards the sea, and we knew where to go by following the masses. The park is a considerable size, and to find someone in the masses of people would have been nigh impossible had it not been for Nokia, now I know the reason behind the Finns obsession with mobile phones. Eventually found Nanna, Patrick et al and had our picnic, again with some classy sovietskoye champagnskoye. I feel I should also explain the overall phenomenon. All students in Finland when they start their studies receive a boiler suit, which is colour-coded depending on the university they attend. In such occasions as Vappu, students wear their boiler suits teamed with their little graduation hats – it’s all very YMCA. Hundreds of thousands of people walking around the city clad in overalls and white sailor-esque hats, I had seen it all before and although I didn’t have my hat with me (it is somewhere between Germany and the UK I think, or hope) and not fully in the swing of things at least I understood what was going on. It must have been awfully bewildering for my three friends, who had probably never witnessed such wild lunacy before, well at least not outside of Russia. It’s a nice party atmosphere though, and everyone is happy, which probably lead my friends to believe (perhaps wrongly) that the Finns were not indeed very sombre people but in fact very happy chaps. We were a big group, and multi-national what with our prescence and so many languages were flying about, which of course I was relishing in. With this, the sun shining on our faces and the wind blowing from the sea, in a bit of a champagne glow, it was lovely. No other word to describe it, even if it all seems a bit surreal. With this lovely glow I dragged my friends out to ‘Westend,’ the suburb where I used to live. We walked by the sea, something I really miss when I am thousands of miles inland here in Moscow, and I took them past my old house and haunts and got very nostalgic and sunk into my memories. It was nice. To keep the memories for longer we went to the supermarket and stocked up on that Finnish chocolate, FAZER, and other such goodies to take back to Russia. After this was the cinema and I had forgotten how much of an effort it is going to see a film in Finland, because the films are in their original language but they have not only Finnish, but also Swedish subtitles. I was thus sitting there watching the film, reading the Swedish subtitles (my eyes avert to them with more ease than Finnish) and then scanning the Finnish subtitles, and so it is like having everything in double stereo and by the end of the film you are exhausted. Good value for money though, not only fun but educational. What a nerd, huh?!

Thursday 2nd May

Doomsday. The return to Russia. My heart sank, again, at the prospect of having to go back – but I pushed it to one side, tried not to snap too much at my friends and got on the bus with a solemn face. The coach was luckily empty and so we could stretch out and sleep all the way, apart from at the passport controls. This time there were only three checks, which surprised me because surely the Russians would want people to come to their country rather than try to stop Russians leave. That didn’t quite sound right, did it?! Well anyway it just surprised me that is all, and it surprised me that it never took eight hours this time and so when we arrived in St Petersburg we could still catch some of the afternoon sun and had longer to relax before Sophia and I had to take our sleeper for Moscow. The train out had been good, the bus bad. The bus back had been good, the train then probably had to be bad. And it was. We shared a cabin with two giggling girls who would just not go to bed, and I was really sick and couldn’t lie flat without having a coughing fit and thinking I was going to be separated from my lungs at any minutes. Then there was the toilet, yuk. Unfortunately I had been drinking copious amounts of fluids to try and combat this illness that I just couldn’t shake off that was really starting to make me miserable, and so I needed to make a trip to the bathroom in the middle of the night. This toilet confirmed what I had begin to think that some Russians live like pigs, it was disgusting – probably on par to a toilet in India, and isn’t Russia supposed to more advanced and first world-y than India, no?! I was appalled, and nearly in tears over such a degrading incident. It was only going to the bathroom - it would take a lot for Mother Russia to build herself back up again in my good books.

Friday 3rd May

A new day, a new start?! Well we arrived in Moscow, and it was actually quite nice to be ‘home’ after the travelling and I was really looking forward to climbing back into my bed and waking up feeling even more refreshed. Of course though I could hardly sleep still, due to this cough and so it was time that I went to see a Doctor. When it comes to important issies such as health matters I didn’t see how I could go to a Russian Dr, a bit of a fear of being butchered going on here, and so off I popped to the European Medical Centre to be treated by a westerner. I had the nicest Doctor I probably ever had (American guy, very attentive) diagnose me then lecture me for galavanting around Europe when I should have been in bed recouperating and trying to beat a case of BRONCHITIS. Can you believe that?! Bronchitis. No wonder I had been feeling a bit rubbish. My head hung in shame for not realising it was so serious and it was not just my allergies, although my allergies had also blocked up my sinuses and made my eyes puff and so I was going to have to take drugs for that too. In the end I came away with five types of drugs, nasal spray and an inhaler, oh yes and a £175 bill! Thank goodness I am insured. The rest of the day passed in a drug induced blur in my bed until midnight when I woke up, dressed and accompanied Sophia to Sheremetyevo Dump, err I mean Two (the airport) where she was meeting her boyfriend off a flight from London. It was a night flight (what with the time differences this is still possible within Europe), which would arrive at 05.20. The Metro would not be open at that time in the morning to just get up really early and so I had promised Sophia to come with her to spend the night in the airport, such a good friend. We took one of the last Metro’s to the end of the green line, where we thought we would take a bus to the airport, but the busses had all finished for the day and so we had to take a car, argh. Chunddling down the pot-holed roads to the airport in a Lada, we feared for our lives but all was well and we got to airport in time for a nice four hour wait. For such an ‘international, sophisticated and cosmopolitan city’ that Moscow sees itself to be, the airport facilities are dreadful. The arrivals hall is dingy and dreary, a really depressing experience to wait for someone there, and there is a distinct lack of seating. We thus headed for the departure hall on the floor above and it was not much better. There were perhaps 100 seats in the whole terminal, which is blatantly not enough, and even at that they were falling to pieces and highly uncomfortable. It was not a pleasant wait, least not because I actually had bronchitis – you know, when you actually know that you have something it feels worse always, psychological really. Anyway, I felt miserable and poor Sophia felt terrible for dragging me out there but there was no way she could go there by herself incase she was abducted by the Russian Mafia. To compensate she invited me to eat a Chicken Burrito with her in the one café that was open in the whole of this “International” airport, yes at four in the morning. The Russian’s should stick to their bliny, this burrito was the worst burrito I ever tasted, even worse than the microwave ones the guys in my old class used to heat up in the student lounge, it tasted like crusty cardboard. It certainly amused us though, we could play table hockey with it and use ot as a puck and so the time passed quickly until the flight arrived in. I don’t know who was more anxious, Sophia or myself. Sophia to see her boyfriend, which is a big thing, or me to get home and crawl back into bed and sleep. Sophia may have won by a fraction, but I will say that after the marshrootka and metro ride home I was more than elated to climb into bed.

Saturday 4th May

In a neo-codine comatose. Don’t remember anything much other than waking up for five minutes or so every now and then. Great.

Sunday 5th May

Sleep again, but then force myself to get up for a while and socialise. It was the Russian Easter and my hazaika/landlady, who I affectionately refer to as Babs, was having an Easter party for her and her friends. What a nightmare. I don’t know if my regular readers will remember when I previously wrote about Babs’ friends – the 85 year old daughter of a Polish count, her daughter and her husband. Well, they were round again, and I sat there at the especially decorated table trying to join in on the conversation and try not to be too dopey and ill. I ate the food Lyuda prepared, got involved in the general bantar around the table, listened to their singing and tried to join in on some of the songs and laughed at their odd Russian jokes – I don’t think I will ever understand Russian jokes even if I continue studying Russian to my grave, they are just very strange and I honestly do not find them at all funny but they shriek with glee over their anekdotie nevertheless. I admit I did it all on auto-pilot under the influence of all those drugs, but I still had to put in some effort and so I was therefore really pleased and proud when the daughter of the Polish count turned to me and told me how much my Russian had improved in the past three months. I could have leaned over and hugged her right there and then, but she was so wrinkly and frail I thought I might snap her and so I just offered her some of my Fazer chocolate, a big sacrifice as anyone who knows me will tell you. It really meant a lot to me, and after all this travelling I needed a boost for my Russian because the Swedish, and even Finnish keep creeping out instead, and I was loosing hope with my Russian. If I have gotten better so far, and she noticed this even in my lull (illness and other languages stress) then imagine what I can achieve in the next few months?! Hope re-built, Mother Russia and me bosom buddies again I went to bed with a smile on my face.

Monday 6th May

The Doctor ordered me to stay in bed and wrote me a spravka/sick note and so I stayed in bed the whole day, again. Got kind of bored. The magazines and books, which were meant to last for a while longer, have all been read cover to cover. The films in the apartment have already been seen over and over, apart from Jemma’s collection of war films and I don’t do blood and guts at the best of times. Decide to embark upon writing a book and pass away the time until Alexia arrives in Moscow from St Petersburg and I have to go and meet her at the station to help her with baggage – it seems like I am always going to meet people places, but then again I don’t mind when it is my friends and I do like train stations. Oh but I forgot that I strongly dislike the area that the Leningradsky Vokzal is in because it is filled to the brim with the lower echelons of society lets say; drunken bums, freaky drugged up cross dressers and scary looking peasants to name but a few. The station itself is beautiful but as soon as you step outside it is awful, and if this were to be someone’s first impression of Moscow, argh. Actually Sheremetyevo is not any better. Warning: When arriving in Moscow do try to give her a chance and don’t just judge her by first impressions because it is not a true reflection of what the city has to offer. Komsomolskaya Metro station indeed seems to be a magnet for freaks, and it is never pleasant to make a trip there. It was pleasant to see Alexia again, even if it had only been four days since we had last seen each other, and we went home and gossiped until I passed out with the weariness that is having bronchitis.

Tuesday 7th May

Alexia joined me in slobbing out for the day, we lounged around watching films and flicking through the IKEA catalogue – at least I now know how to say armchair and footstool etc… Kreslo e tabooret dlya nog. Great, huh?!

Wednesday 8th May

Sophia’s 21st birthday!!! A day for celebration, thus we hauled ourselves out of bed, made ourselves look pretty for Sophia (although I still wore my usual mourning black) and popped into town, where we ate sandwiches and cranberry juice in our favourite café, Pirogi. I felt a bit sorry for her boyfriend who had to sit there with us three wittering on about nonsense, but then it was only for a lunch and then we had a whole list of errands to run in the city centre. We managed about a third of our list because this is Russia afterall, and everything here seems to take much longer than anywhere else. Take for example the simple task of posting letters. I had to post my mother’s birthday card to the UK and a letter to Carl Johan in Sweden, and it took over an hour. I asked fist of all about where to queue and was pointed in the direction of the longest queue in the room. We stuck it out, luckily I had Alexia with me to keep me company, and finally got to the front of the queue where I explained what I wanted. She charged me to send the birthday card and then sent me to another queue. Of course she had sent every Tom, Dick and Harry to this queue before me and so I had to wait all over again, and for at least thirty minutes. When we were waiting in this queue a girl from our class at university walked in, just randomly – it’s a malinkie mir/small world! We chatted to her for a while and then got served, and what had we waited for?! For the women to stamp ‘par avion’ on the envelope, to weigh the letter to Carl and then give it back to me and tell me to go to the exact same queue I was in again and ask for more stamps. I thus went back to the same queue I had been in thirty minutes before hand, and waited for another half an hour or so to get another stamp. If only I had gone to the weighing booth first, but then it is Russia and it doesn’t make sense. Instead of having lots of booths and a nice queuing system with number tickets or something, they have four rambled, inconspicuous looking booths and people end up just being confused and it thus doesn’t work well, and this is the Central Telegraf/the Main Post Office. Unbelievable. The day was downhill from there onwards, we never fulfilled our aims for the day and had to come home, with the list still hovering over our heads. Man, I really hate when I can’t achieve all that I want to achieve, and this is a regular occurrence here in Russia – it is so infuriating.

Thursday 9th May

S dnem pobedie!!! Another day when I can’t achieve all I want to, and not live up to one of my newfound phrases (in Swedish, sorry, gör allt du vill och allt du drömmer om) for life. How infuriating. It was dien pobeda/ Victory Day today. Unfortunately it was not much of a victory for me, as I have already mentioned. This is the day when most Russian’s get misty-eyed about the past, and remember the Soviet Army’s victory in world war II. It is a day of Parades, concerts, fireworks and other such festivities. The real highlight of the day is a parade on Red Square, with tanks and marching soldiers and military bands etc… and I really wanted to see it, but of course only people in the government can see such a thing, it is for the privileged few in Russian society to see, and not for any old random people although such said people often do more for Russia than the big wigs who suck up to Putin. I wanted to see it so much, and I wasn’t allowed to, it was, as ever, annoying. Instead we (us mere mortals) were allowed to see the parade of people down Tverskaya, and so following my Babushka’s advice I met up with some friends an hour and a half earlier than I needed to. I was expecting masses of people to come and see the parade but there were hardly any - a few hardcore communists – and so we waited for ages to see what was, in the end, a bit of a pathetic and half-hearted parade. We followed it for a while before we got hungry and left. What we should have held off to see was the fireworks show in the evening, Red Square was jam-packed with people and they went on and on and on. Feeling ill, I watched the whole thing from the TV but heard the fireworks resonating in stereo when it reached this south of the River – it was still ten times more impressive than the parade through town. Conclusion = Communism has all but died out here in Russia. It remains as a stinging memory, with constant hammer and sickle reminders everywhere one looks. But in the hearts of people, what they really want it is obvious to me that they would rather look to the future and have more of an opportunity to be stinking filthy rich. With a look at what is out there,(capitalism) there is no turning back.

Friday 10th May

Another day of prasnikum/holiday here in Russia. Great stuff. Made a trip to a park to try and get some peace & quiet, but nothing in Russia is that easy as we all know and so we found a nice (by Russian standards) park with a pond, but then there was some tango dancing going on in one corner of the park, with a live singer and it was being broadcast over the whole park. It was sweet to see the old dears dancing around, enjoying themselves. It was nice because Dien pobeda is all about remembering their struggles and so they deserve a bit of fun, but you know it interfered with our silence.

Saturday 11th May

Today. After yesterday’s excitement I’m in need of some recovery, so here I am at home in bed again while the girls are off at the markets looking for gifts and bargains. I’m just typing away, and what a lot I have written. I cannot believe how quickly the time has passed, and how much I have written. But then again, this is two weeks worth and so if you spilt it up perhaps then it won’t seem so long. I apologise nevertheless about the sheer length of this, and I will stop right here and get back into the swing of things as next week progresses. I am back to work for definite on Monday and so will be in front of my computer to post this, and maybe even update on the weekend’s activities and what Mother Russia has thrown at me now – I might have work to do though, shock horror, and so the routine will kick in later on perhaps. In the meantime though I am back, for good, in Moscow and able to bring to you my amazingly witty (ha ha ha, yeah right) stories about Mother Russia. No more galavanting for a while, in Russia am I firmly based for the next 100 days or so, yikes… Long time!

2002-04-26T15:09:00.000Z

Am going to be very British and talk about the weather today - really nice and warm, very summery. All the Russian girls are stripping, showing as much flesh as they possibly can in order to bag their very own Russian brute. It is quite hilarious. Of course with this warm weather also comes the eventual smell of Summer. You ask yourself what is that?! The smell of freshly cut grass?! NO! Don't be so ridiculous, this is Moscow. There is no such thing as grass here, be it green grey or purple. The eventual smell of summer that I am refering to is the nice sweat smell - lovely! Everytime I go on the metro I am confronted with it, and it is really bad. Confined spaces + smelly people = bad smelling confined spaces.

But life goes on, and I should be grateful that I actually don't have it half as bad as some of the people around me because I can only smell in diluted boughts, the reason for this being that my nose is bunged up from my allergies to Russia and all things Russian, ha ha. I also had a shower this morning, and still feel somewhat human whereas the rest of my household did not because the water turned off afterwards - oooooops! Hope it wasn't my fault, don't think it was - we put it down to one of the mysteries of Russia. Another positive thing would be all the fun opportunities had of not wearing so many clothes... Sophia and I were on the metro again, as you do, and we thought it would be fun to entertian the dreary miserable Russians. Normally a smile would suffice but today Sophia blew a trumpet on her arm - it was hilarious. Very childish indeed, but then sometimes you have got to do what you have to do and we need to provoke some reactions out of the Russians. They choses to ignore us - it was very loud. How boring these people can be sometimes.

Anyway, tomorrow we get away from it all. Again. Actually the weekend starts right about now - yeah!!! Have a dinner tonight with friends, then am going to see the Tretyakov gallery (filled to the brim with as much precious art as say the Louvre in Paris, for all those who care) tomorrow, hopefully then the hot water will be on and I can have a shower before I take the sleeper train to St Petersburg, the home of the Tsars. Sunday it is then the overnight coach to Helsinki... Civilisation, again!!! All too much to take. Am not sure if I will have the opportunity to post on my jaunts around nordic Europe, we'll see! In meantime though a very big poka and obnimaju!!!

2002-04-25T12:59:00.000Z

I definitely know that I am back in Moscow again. The reason why I do know is quite simple. Other than the obvious; everyone is speaking Russian, the people are all miserable, the pace of life is aggressive and fast, I took the Metro to work and all that… The most prominent reason why I know I am back in Russia again is that my health has deteriorated again, and so I am a sick, sniffly, puffy-eyed, freaky looking little creature that has a distinct lack of vitamins and fresh minerals in her diet and is thus constantly sneezing, coughing and wheezing. Maybe I am allergic to Russia. That would be a tragedy, wouldn’t it be?! Haaa, no must not think like that. It is crazy. I am never sick in the UK. I do have my pollen allergies but nothing compared to this, this is a different level and my body in Russia seems to morph into another body. How weird. I thus have my Russian body, and I don’t prefer it half as much as my Swedish body, which seems to glow and sparkle a lot more - I guess it is the added benefits of green air and the rubbing off effect of other smiling people. Who knows?!

Although my health has deteriorated, my mood seems to have picked up a bit though. I am not sitting here shaking my head today. Am sick right enough, but I am still sitting here in my office with a smile on my face. It feels kind of manic, but then that would fit in with Russia, which might probably be the most manic country in the world.

I had a nice evening last night with my mother’s best friend’s husband and his work colleague – they left their neighbour’s cat back in the UK, don’t worry. My parents are in the midst of a move back to the UK from Germany, and so they probably won’t be able to come out here. Paul, however, was coming out here on a business trip and his duty as a family friend was to of course make time to see me and take me out to dinner. Am I really going to complain about that?! Errrr, no! It was a really pleasant evening. I hadn’t actually seen this guy for over three years (ooooops, I guess I am a bit of an aloof daughter in comparison to my siblings) and so it was nice to see him and hear his family news, although my mother the oracle had already told me most stuff anyway. His work colleague was also there and he studied modern languages back in the early 1980s. He actually studied Russian and had done the same as me, come to Russia to practice – although back then it was the USSR – and so we had a lot to talk about. His stories about living in Voronezh when it was even less developed than it is now were pretty horrific. Although I do complain about being here and feel sorry for myself on several occasions I guess that things could be much worse and so with that good kick up the backside I am reminded that it isn’t that bad at all. Saying this though, still cannot wait to go to Finland… Yeah, heja Finland!!!

I just managed to write a blog entry about pretty much nothing, but there you go, that is my special talent… wittering on about nothing. I am actually going to head off now though, you will have to wait until tomorrow for an actual point. Just one question before I go – does anyone know the reason why the Russians paint half of their tree trunks white?! I see it all the time with the majority of trees along the sides of the road, the bottom halves of the trunks have all been painted white. I did try to ask a few people but no-one can solve this mystery for me. Anyone want to venture a guess?! Victor, perhaps…

2002-04-24T13:16:00.000Z

I'm back in Moskva. My heart is heavy and I can think of a hundred places I would rather be right now (mainly Goteborg) but the fact of the matter is that I am back and so I should just pull the finger out and get on with it. After such a blissful trip to Sweden it is difficult though, and I also have so many things to now do - just to get back into the swing of things - and to think that I leave again on Saturday to go to St Petersburg and Helsinki.... Ahhhh, the life of a global nomad. Upsetting. I learned a lot from my trip, mainly about how little an affinity I have with Russia when I compare it to how comfortable I feel in Sweden. The first time out however is always the most upsetting and difficult. I am feeling a little bit sorry for myself, to say the least, to be back here. I never realised how dirty it actually was, how rude the people were etc... I had gotten used to it all, it was normal to me. After sinking back into 'my' way of life though, to come back it really hit me hard. I will no doubt feel fine in a few days, or perhaps after my jaunt to Finland, and so bear with me guys... I will soon be bringing you stories of Russia once again, little Russian words to learn and say and facts to make you go "HUH?!"

In the meantime though I am going to write a little bit about my trip, this is afterall the diary of a global nomad and not just the diary of a Russian nomad. Sverige. It was, as ever, perfect, ahhhh.

I left Russia on Thursday and as my plane took off from Sheremtyevo 2 I felt a huge relief lift off my shoulders. I got upgraded and so was flying business class, oh joy, but if I had to fly strapped onto the back of a seventy year old aeroflot chug plane I would have done - it was time for me to have a break. Arrived in Helsinki first of all and had some time to wait and so went beyond passport controls and outside into the fresh air. Bear in mind this is was the air next to a fairly busy airport, not the purest of Finnish airs. However it was the most pure air I had ever breathed in. It was magnificent. I stood there in the middle of this carpark with the sun shining on my face, breathing in air and looking in amazement at the collection of shiny, flashy cars and busses. I bought a magazine and sat reading it on a bench in this carpark and was very very happy. Hmmmm. Next step though was Goteborg and it was so lovely, ahhhhhh, sigh! From the moment I got on the second plane with not a single Russian there was not a trace of a smell of smelly Russian men and their eau de garlic cologne. Then I finally landed in Sweden, early I might add and there was only one word to describe what it was like getting there, I mean really there and away from airports. WOW! Everything works, toilets are clean, you can take showers and not have to worry about where you stand or leave your things, the food is healthy and good quality, floors are wooden and polished, people are friendly and smiley, not everyone has cats, and it was just so civilised and lovely. I was in complete and utter awe of things I have often taken for granted and no doubt Carl Johan thought that I was a complete lunatic, but then again he wouldn't be far wrong, ha ha.

I won't bore you all with the details about what we did but in brief I had the nicest of times, just chatting and laughing and being 100% spoiled. Fantastic! We went to chic little cafes, sophisticated restaurants, sunny terraces and ate good food, drank good wine (CJ was showing off and ordered champagne, how impressed was I though?!) and talked and talked and talked. We went shopping, walked around the city of Goteborg in its old, quaint quarter of Haga, and I just soacked up the laid-back, chilled out, friendly atmosphere. It was wonderful. We went to the beach, walked in the woods and then as if this all weren't enough CJ took me to see a Ballet at Gothenburg Opera House. It was the best time - I don't think I stopped smiling once, and my face was glowing not only from the huge amounts of sunlight and the general happiness, but from the green air and good food that I was feeding my body. Lettuce - it is a joy to eat. Naturally, mixed in with all this was socialising with his friends and nice dinners with his family, followed by some serious vedging out - we sat in the garden and soaked up the rays then slobbed out in front of the TV and caught its rays, yeah! It all ended a bit too soon and after a few tears (ok, bucket loads) it was back to Helsinki and then onto Moscow. My heart is heavy and my eyes are filled with tears that don't quite know if they should fall.

As was requested by my friend Sophia, who is so lovely she met me at the airport yesterday with flowers to make sure I didn't jump in front of a marshrootka or something, here is the newsflash that she was nearly run over by a bus. Through my blog she wanted to vent some anger and say BLOODY RUSSIA! I say hear hear, but then I'm still on my svensk bubbla, so I would say that. As I said, I am adjusting... give me time...

2002-04-17T12:59:00.000Z

Just a quick note to say that I didn't have time to write today because I have been doing last minute things here before I go to Sweden tomorrow. That's right... Sweden... tomorrow! Just a little bit excited here, eeeeeek. Have a nice weekend all!

2002-04-16T10:28:00.000Z

Boy am I glad to be getting out of here this weekend. I haven’t had another bad fit of Russia Rage, don’t get me wrong. In fact since I last wrote things have been more than fine. I had a good day at work, then when I left the sun was shining, the temperature was mild and the children were still all out playing. The Metro ride was pretty normal, nothing really eventful happened other than me actually getting a seat for one stop (I know, it’s an exiting life I lead), and I had no more run-ins with horrible bum men. Actually my neighbourhood is turning out to be a really nice place to be – apart from late at night, near the Metro where the bums congregate. I always just thought where I lived was typically Russian, a continuation of the people farm that is Moscow. But then it was hidden under masses of snow and it was dark a lot of the time (it even seemed dark during the day as it was grey, grey, grey) and so I never really got the chance to see it I guess. Now, however, that the sun has come out, that trees are coming into bloom, that people are painting fences, cleaning their cars, out walking their little dogs etc… I have begun seeing where I live in a completely new light. I have realized that not only is it really pretty central for Moscow (one stop away from the circle line and a mere ten minutes stroll from Leninski Prospekt, one of Moscow’s happening roads with it’s own TGI Friday’s none the less – westernisation is a sign of a wealth here in Russia, remember) but that it is not such a bad place, pretty residential, non-industrial, quiet and much, much nicer than other places I have come across. Not so long ago, we started to walk about in the evenings, trying to discover our neighbourhood and get some air – whether it be fresh however is another matter, and it dawned on me that it really isn’t all that bad where I am.

I also should be grateful that not only am I am in a nice area of Moscow, but I am in Moscow itself and not stuck out in the provincials. Alexia called last night. She was feeling a bit homesick and needed to speak to a friendly voice - that would be me. She was close to putting a bullet through her head she said, at the weekend because Yaroslavl really was lacking in entertainment. She has completely run out of things to read and she doesn’t have access to a VCR so watching a movie is out of the question. At the weekend, after having spoken Russian all week and studying hard I assure you that you want to slip back into a language you feel more comfortable using. At least I have the opportunity of doing that here, but Lex unfortunately doesn’t and so she is feeling a bit miserable. I tried my best to tell her nonsense, drivel stories for half an hour, to cheer her up and hopefully she won’t be too sad this week and that she will remember to be strong as the weekend after next she is coming through to Moscow. It was, as ever, lovely to speak to Lex but the thing that struck me was how lucky I actually am.

I hung up the phone, I spoke to Sophia for a while, flicked through Russian ELLE, watched some of American Pie 2 – dubbed into Russian, but if you tuned your ears you could hear the English too – went for a walk and saw a real live ewok and then came home, and read my Scanorama magazine from cover to cover. It was a thoroughly enjoyable evening.

Today I came into work and my mood is still good. Stas is in a good mood too and we are sitting here in our little office, listening to MTV Russia's latest hits, including the latest cheesy pop such as Kylie's Can't Get You out of my Head, or (and I actually quite like this despite it being the most overplayed song of the moment) Titiyo's Come Along. We have been having fun, singing along to Baila Sexy Thing and laughing over the way this Zucchero guy says "Yeah" - it is the funniest, can just imagine this dodgy looking man rasing his eyebrows and pointing his finger. This is perhaps not such a productive thing to be doing in the office but I am in holiday mode, and Stas doesn't seem to mind - actually he was the one who suggested putting on some music although he may have ulterior motives, such as learning how to sound like a pimp. I never realised that songs were filled with such nonsense, and here is me translating what they mean. "Baby let me see you dance" doesn't quite have the same effect when put into Russian... "Detka, ya hochu uveedet kak ti tantsuesh."

Then, midst bopping, not so long ago my day got better. I nearly fell off my seat, the girl came round with the post and I got something for the second day in a row. Wooooh, wooooh my post arrived from Vika!!! She must have only posted a little over a week ago in London and it is already here, in my office in Moscow. Pretty fast. My faith in the Russian postal service has been restored, so if anyone wants to send me letters than feel very free to.

So, now you are probably asking yourself why I am glad to be getting out of Russia this weekend when all seems to be going well. Other than the obvious, seeing CJ again, getting away from it all and wandering about in Sweden, breathing green air, seeing smiley people, eating really good food etc… I am glad to be getting away for Saturday because this Saturday is April 20th - the anniversary of Hitler’s birthday. It is upon this date that the lovely skin-head, neo-nazis of Russia decide to do bad things, to hold riots and attack anyone they don’t like the look of. Me, perhaps not being a skin-head, definitely not Russian or Germanic in any way, with my little group of girl friends might be just be a target and so instead of staying in my house and having a miserable weekend hiding from the nazis, steering clear of the city centre just incase anything bad did indeed happen, I am going to Sweden where there aren’t so many radicals, and where I can relax in no danger of having a brick thrown at me. I have no idea what it is these bunch of freaks are planning (sickos) but I doubt it ranks up there with Disneyland considering that the Embassies have issued warnings to foreign citizens in Moscow and that the Moscow Times have backed up such warnings. Therefore am glad to be getting out, running away from anything that my burst my idyllic bubble, again…

2002-04-15T12:16:00.000Z

Up and down, up and down. I am not trying to impersonate a dodgy Venga Boys song, honest… No, this is always the way that life goes here in Russia. I cannot remember a time (other than my mid-teenage years when the hormones were just bouncing off the wall, and I thought the whole world was against me) when I have been so manic, so moody, so happy one minute then in the depths of depression the next, then up again. It is a bit unsettling, to say the least. My weekend was one of these up and down weekends.

Friday I had a relaxing evening, ate some ice cream and watched a movie. Just nice, you know?! Saturday was going well, it was a lovely sunny day and we went across Moscow seeing different things – it was nice to discover different areas, and at one point I actually felt like breathing in a whole lung-full of air, which is not something I can remember doing in the past two months, what with all this pollution. The day continued to go well. Sophia and I ate dinner in our favourite café (Pirogi) – I ate my first tomato salad since I was here – and then we went to the Bolshoi Theatre to see La Boheme, or Bogema as they call it here. It was a tad depressing, the story line and the ending, but the whole Bolshoi experience was (again) marvelous and so I went home in a good mood. I was happy, swaying on the Metro and even venturing a… smile, and managed to keep my tongue in my mouth. I was re-playing the Opera over in my head, was in really good spirits. The world was on my side… You know where this is going?! Wait for the fall…

As I was coming out of the Metro, this horrible bum comes up to me muttering on about devushkie/girls, and god-knows what else. He glares at me through a scarred, bleeding face, breathes his beer-breath over me then lunges, onto… me! I couldn’t believe it, did he have no idea just HOW much of an invasion of my space that was?! It was highly offensive. I managed to peel him off of me and get on my way again, but my mood quickly disintegrated into foulness, and I quickly became very sad at the sorry state of Russia, not to mention highly freaked out. I was alone, it was dark, and even if I did scream I have lost so much faith in the Russian people and their drinking that I doubt anyone would have come to my assistance. I went home and promptly went to bed.

Of course, as if I weren’t feeling crap, homesick and upset enough, in the middle of the night my whole insides decide (in true Russian style) to revolt. I was sick. Turns out I got food poisoning, most probably from the tomato salad. I knew there was a reason why I didn’t eat un-cooked things in Russia – that would be it! My Sunday plans were thus thrown out of the window and I was confined to the flat. It was torture. The sun was shining, the temp was really high, the children were out playing and laughing again and I just wanted to go out and play too… Instead I got to sit inside, and was so stuck for entertainment (bear in mind it had to be mind-numbing as I felt like crap) that I watched The Princess Diaries, probably the WORST film ever to be made. It was ridiculous, blatantly obvious what was going to happen and just overly cheesy. Hummmmph! What I would have given for a copy of Glamour or Cosmopolitan magazine, in English - chewing gum for the eyes. My mood was definitely low.

Today though, it bounced back again. Surprise. I am really like a coiled spring at the moment. After a long sleep, I came into work and the sun was shining and it is only three days until I go to Sweden and be completely and utterly spoiled rotten by the lovely Carl Johan. I stopped at reception here in the office and had my daily morning chat with Diana & Tatyana (the receptionists) then came into my office and there was a big fat brown envelope on my desk. A big, fat brown envelope addressed to me no less!!! FINALLY, I got post! What a lovely surprise. I am expecting mail from Vika, a regular reader of this nonsense, but she has warned me not to hold my breath until it arrives, because it could take until July with the Russian postal service. Yes, three months coming from England… Anyway, my parcel today was not from England but was from good old Suomi. It was also not addressed in Vika’s handwriting (she would have written in Cyrillic) but was addressed by my sister. Yeah!!! Good old Linds, secretly plotting to send me mail, what a sweet little thing. I had a good old feel first to see if I could guess what was in there, perhaps some Fazer?! Nope, too flexible. Paper?! The tension was too much for me to bear and so I ripped open the envelope, or konvert as they say here, and there inside was a copy of Scanorama, the SAS in-flight magazine!!! How thoughtful. She flew SAS to Helsinki for Easter and thought to save me the magazine and post it out here to Russia. Bless! I have a bit of a thing for airline magazines, and although Highlife (British Airways, the world’s favourite airline) is the best in-flight magazine I have come across – it is very stylish, quite glossy, filled to the brim with well-written, interesting articles, useful information and great photographs – I do indeed like Scanorama, at the very least because all the articles are about Scandinavia. Thank you Lindsay for sending me this, am flying Finnair on Thursday so will have to make do with Blue Wings, but now I get the best of both worlds. Great. My magazine has been sitting on my desk all day, tempting me. I am saving it though for tonight and am going to have so much fun reading it.

My mood is ok. I am normal. I am feeling indifferent to Russia, am not throwing myself at her or indeed running away at full speed. I am just here, surviving and looking forward to my little break. Already thinking in Swedish – hmmmm, kanske jag har resfeber?!!

(Btw, Vik… Don’t worry about the demonstrations. What will be will be - que sera, sera - and all that… Maybe it is best to close your door and forget about it all, this is what I do when I have a fit of Russia Rage, and indeed what I did in Brussels when I had a fit of Turkish Rage – a lot of people in my neighbourhood were from North Africa or Middle East and their cultures and attitudes to women are so different it would upset me. Be strong and try not to let the World scare you! Above all else, and this is coming from a Pro… SMILE!)

2002-04-12T16:23:00.000Z

Happy Djen Kosmonavtuku/Cosmonauts Day! For all of you not in the know it is the 40th anniversary since Yuri Gagarin went into space – that would be a whole 7 years before Armstrong walked on the moon. Go Russia!!! Big up to the Russian Massive!!! Anyway, it is a big thing here their pride over, their space program and cosmonauts, something for the Russian’s to be proud of and so good for them.

I have decided that I quite like the fact that this country is not so wealthy. OK, I don’t love it and I certainly have spent a lot of time complaining about what a cesspit this place seems like at times; the streets are dirty, the air is polluted, there is no apparent wealth in people and they thus all walk around with miserable faces etc… How much have I complained?! Yes, quite a lot I admit. I have decided though that every cloud has a silver lining and Russia’s saving grace to not being so wealthy and sophisticated is that their future is bright. The next generation has an imagination, they have energy and they work hard. They are dedicated to their sports (be it football, ice-hockey, ballet, gymnastics) and are very talented musicians and artists. And the reason why?! They don’t have the wealth that we have in the West, they don’t have the computer games, the Nintendos, the playstations, TVs, videos or DVDs. They don’t have the world offered to them on a plate, easy entertainment and mindless games. They make their own enteritainment and give themselves a chance to really excel in their field.

I often used to wonder where all the children were, like little dogs they didn’t seem to exist. Now I know where the little children have been. Working hard, improving their skills indoors, while it has been cold. They are a very talented race, they really are, they spend their winters working on whatever talent they pursue, and they reach a very high standard. Now that it is warm though they are all out on the streets, playing. I mean really playing. It feels so very quaint and 1960s. They ride around on bikes and play in small areas of grass, on swings and climbing frames, and draw chalk pictures on the street. It is a joy to go out in the evenings and see them playing, and nice to sit in my room and hear their squeals of laughter. I really know that Spring is here now.

Unfortunately it is only the children and young generation who have been affected – as I said they are the hope for Russia. The rest are all as miserable and aggressive as ever. Had a run-in with a man on the Metro, it is the only way to deal with things. He was pushing me out of the door and would not stop, even if it meant I might fall on the floor and be trampled to death. He was really pissing me off and I had to vent my anger, so I made like a five year old and stuck my tongue out at him. This may have shocked the other lemmings who stand with their blank, miserable faces and only ever speak in a monotone. Wow, someone with obvious emotions and a character. That is a novelty.

It has been suggested that I should make a feature out of my Metro journeys to work, as it is more interesting than some people’s journeys to work, which are only brightened by a trip to a coffee shop to pick up a latte, oh dahling!!! I will inform you latte drinkers just how lucky you are to experience such joys and NOT to have to deal with the Moscow Metro – if it weren’t a means of throwing all your money away (straight into the Militsia’s pockets) I would have a car here. The Metro is beautiful when empty, but when jam-packed full of penguins it is a pain in the ****. It is also a health hazard, the train tried to eat me on Tuesday, tried to squash me to an untimely death and then released itself only to come back and have an attempt in severing me and my handbag, oh no!!! It also attracts bums with half their faces chewed off by other bums, who drink beer and go round on the circle line all day, weeeee weeeee weeeee, then decide to fall asleep and block the doorways for people trying to get on and off.

It certainly makes for the odd, random story, but for a regular feature… Perhaps not! I much prefer the plastic bag situation. The news to report today is that international supermarkets seem to be providing bags for the Russian general publics. I have seen bags from two British supermarkets, Waitrose and Safeway, from the Belgian Supermarket Delhaize, from the Swedish ICA and the Finnish Smarket. How sad am I to actually know about all these supermarkets, huh?!

Anyway, on that note am going to head off… Remember tonight when you look up at the stars, to spare a thought for those Russian Cosmonauts lost in space because no-one in their country can be bothered to pay taxes to bring them home. Happy Cosmonauts Day!!!

2002-04-12T14:50:00.000Z

Happy Djen Kosmonavtuku/Cosmonauts Day! For all of you not in the know it is the 40th anniversary since Yuri Gagarin went into space - that would be a whole 7 years before Armstrong walked on the moon. Go Russia!!! Big up to the Russian Massive!!! Anyway, it is a big thing here their pride over their space program and cosmonauts, something for the Russian's to be proud of and so good for them.

I have decided that I quite like the fact that this country is not so wealthy. OK, I don't love it and I certainly have spent a lot of time complaining about what a cesspit this place seems like at times, the streets are dirty, the air is polluted, there is no apparent wealth in people and they thus all walk around with miserable faces etc: How much have I complained?! Yes, quite a lot I admit. I have decided though that every cloud has a silver lining and Russia's saving grace to not being so wealthy and sophisticated is that their future is bright. The next generation has an imagination, they have energy and they work hard. They are dedicated to their sports (be it football, ice-hockey, ballet, gymnastics) and are very talented musicians and artists. And the reason why?! They don't have the wealth that we have in the West, they don't have the computer games, the Nintendos, the playstations, TVs, videos or DVDs. They don't have the world offered to them on a plate, easy entertainment and mindless games. They make
their own enteritainment and give themselves a chance to really excel in their field.

I often used to wonder where all the children were, they were like little dogs they didn't seem to exist. Now I know where the little children have been. Working hard, improving their skills indoors, while it has been cold. They are a very talented race, they really are, they spend their winters working on whatever talent they pursue. Now that it is warm they are all out on the streets, playing. I mean really playing. It feels so very quaint and 1960s. They ride around on bikes and play in small areas of grass, on
swings and climbing frames, and draw chalk pictures on the street. It is a joy to go out in the evenings and see them playing, and nice to sit in my room and hear their squeals of laughter. I really know that Spring is here now.

Unfortunately it is only the children and young generation who have been affected - as I said they are the hope for Russia. The rest are all as miserable and aggressive as ever. Had a run-in with a man on the Metro, it is the only way to deal with things. He was pushing me out of the door and would not stop, even if it meant I might fall on the floor and be trampled to death. He was really pissing me off and I had to vent my anger, so I made like a five year old and stuck my tongue out at him. This may have shocked the other lemmings who stand with their blank, miserable faces and only ever speak in a monotone. Wow, someone with obvious emotions and a character. That is a novelty.

It has been suggested that I should make a feature out of my Metro journeys to work, as it is more interesting than some people's journeys to work, which are only brightened by a trip to a coffee shop to pick up a latte, oh dahling!!! I will inform you latte drinkers just how lucky you are to experience such joys and NOT to have to deal with the Moscow Metro - if it weren't a means of throwing all your money away (straight into the Militsia's pockets) I would have a car here. The Metro is beautiful when empty, but when jam-packed full of penguins it is a pain in the ****. It is also a health hazard, the train tried to eat me on Tuesday, tried to squash me to an untimely death and then released itself only to come back and have an attempt in severing me and my handbag, oh no!!! It also attracts bums with half their faces chewed off by other bums, who drink beer and go round on the circle line all day, weeeee weeeee weeeee, then decide to fall asleep and block the doorways for people trying to get on and off.

It certainly makes for the odd, random story, but for a regular feature: Perhaps not! I much prefer the plastic bag situation. The news to report today is that international supermarkets seem to be providing bags for the Russian general publics. I have seen bags from two British supermarkets, Waitrose and Safeway, from the Belgian Supermarket Delhaize, from the Swedish ICA and the Finnish Smarket. How sad am I to actually know about all these supermarkets, huh?! Anyway, on that note am going to head off...

Remember tonight when you look up at the stars, to spare a thought for those Russian Cosmonauts lost in space because no-one in their country can be bothered to pay taxes to bring them home. Happy Cosmonauts Day!!!

2002-04-10T12:28:00.000Z

After yesterday’s little break (sorry, I had too much to do and I was in mourning for the Queen Mum) I have accumulated a few things, which I would like to say.

Continuing with my exasperation over Russia I would like to tell you about what it takes to get a passport photograph here. Sophia needed to get a passport picture taken for her VISA to go to Finland and so we went to a shop that had a sign in the window offering such a service. Normally this is a five-minute procedure, right?! You go to a booth, adjust the seat, make sure your hair is sitting nice, smile, click-click, wait for the pictures to be processed, then dried and ta-daaa you have passport pictures. Even if you don’t go to a booth and go to a shop, it takes only five minutes, with a Polaroid style camera, I am still not mistaken?! This is not the case here in Russia, oh no. We went to the shop, tried to get someone’s attention (but this is an impossible feat here in Russia, as people have not yet heard of customer service) then decided to wait in a queue beside what appeared to be a mini-studio – it actually looked quite professional and a bit special for only passport pictures. We waited for a while, only then to be told that we had to pay first, get a receipt and then we were allowed to wait in line. That took fifteen minutes. Finally Sophia had her photo taken by a digital camera that was hooked up to a computer and it should have been a case of pressing the Pechat/Print button, but nothing in Russia is ever that simple. Fist of all Sophia had to choose which type of photograph she would need, would it be like a Russian passport, a Soviet passport, a European passport, an American Green card etc… Then after she explained what she needed (and this was difficult for them to comprehend, so they needed a whole life-story) they got to work on the computer. Of course then the computer crashed, perhaps due to one of the many power cuts we get here, and so Sophia had to have another photo taken (by this time she was in no mood for smiling) and then we had to go through the whole procedure of explaining what she wanted and why she needed such a photograph. AGAIN! All in all it took almost an hour - a whole sixty minutes - to get some measly passport pictures. The staff were really unhelpful, yes (I would be fired for treating customers like that in UK) but I don't think it was completely their fault. It is all Russia’s fault, Russia's fault for being so overly bureaucratic and insisting that everyone has a VISA. You need a VISA to get in, one to get out, one to go on a short jaunt across the border to Finland and even one to travel within the country. CRAZY. And to get such things you need photographs, which as I have previously mentioned is highly frustrating, extremely exasperating and a complete waste of time… especially when the sun is, shock horror, shining outside!

Now that I have indeed had my moan about why this country is going around and round, why it never gets anywhere in the World, because they don’t know how to do even the simplest of things in a simple way – oh and also because no-one here pays taxes, instead they get their companies to illegally claim they get paid approx. $50 a month so that they don’t need to hand over any money, and the Russians wonder why their country is falling apart?! This could be it. No wonder the streets are always dirty and there is no such thing as housing assistance and a welfare state. High tax is the way forward… I mean would you just look at Scandinavia! Sorry, that was a bit of a side-step. Where was I?! Oh yes, I was going to stop moaning and give you the latest updates on the Russian fashion situation…

The latest craze I have noticed is little dogs – everyone seems to have them at the moment. I guess it is because the snow has melted and their little paws are not in danger of freezing anymore. I was thinking I might write a book about Russia, what to expect and what to bring… Can you imagine this sentence: Small dogs have become the latest accessory to have whilst walking the streets of Moscow, although it is not advised to take your dog into the Kremlin it is the ideal accessory for a walk down Moscow’s main through-fare ‘Tverskaya’. OK, perhaps not, but the small dog phenomenon is something that is happening out here in Moscow. Whether you walk them or carry them, wrap them up in blankets, make them little coats or dye their hair blue, little dogs are THE thing to have. I even spotted someone (on the Metro again – where I seem to spend most my life) carrying a little dog in… surprise, surprise, a carrier bag, but not any old carrier bag… This dog carrier was actually a bag from the Swedish hardware store (bit like B&Q) Biltema. Ok then. Interesting.

Moving on though, there is also a fascination with wigs & hairpieces, which I just cannot grasp the concept of, at all. Women who have relatively short hair scrape it off their faces and then instead of a small pony tail they attatch this monstrosity of a hairpiece that looks like a dead squirrel. The worst of it is not the scratchy nylon material it is made of, but the fact that it more often than none does not even match the colour of the woman’s hair. It is just a tragedy! I have seen so many of these about and I know that they are pretty easy to get hold of because any good market has at least three or four wig stalls. Seriously, you have never seen anything like it. Wigs are a big way of life here. If you feel ashamed to be balding (and really, you shouldn’t because after all, Sting has not much hair) you should move to Russia – most probably up there in per-capita wig wearing!

What else?! Oh, I bought a copy of Russian Cosmopolitan. I figured that I was having such huge with-drawls from glossy magazines that at the very least I could buy a Russian glossy. The last time I read the Russian Cosmo it was rubbish, the most exciting article was about which way you wear down your lipstick and what that means, and so I didn’t have such high expectations. I was thus nicely surprised when I started flicking though the magazine last night (I like to flick through magazines first, suss out what is in them and then go forth and read the articles) and I discovered it to be jam-packed full of what look like really great articles. I think what they have started doing is translating articles from British Cosmo (not American, I can tell - these articles look a bit saucy and American Cosmo flags behind UK version in its open-ness vis a vis sex). It is therefore a good job that I have been cut off from reading the British version because often when they cross use articles and just translate them you can end up reading the same article twice, or even three, as happened with an article in ELLE on Liv Tyler. Oh the problems of being a linguist! I am really excited about going home tonight and filling in the quizzes and reading all the fun articles, and although I am dictionary dependant with a lot of words still there are always going to be some (international) words that I recognize. Dee was here at the weekend and we were debating whether Alexia should get a copy of Cosmo for the train ride back to Yaro and Alexia was anxious as she didn’t have her dictionary and didn’t want to just get frustrated by it all, glossy mags are supposed to be fun at the end of the day. Dee, who is very innocent, then shocked us all by coming out with “Yes, but I think you should get one as all Cosmo ever talks about is Orgasms, and surely the Russian word for Orgasm is Orgasm yet with a funny accent, no?” It was hilarious coming from her mouth, but she has a point… plastered across the front page of my April Cosmo Edition is Seks kak v kino… Anyone want to venture a guess as to what this means?!

I am really looking forward to delving into my Cosmo, even if it is not so ‘True Russian’ and I will probably get stick from my comrades at my university for reading such frivolous crap when I should be fine-tooth combing the finer points of Chekhov’s plays, yada yada yada. For relaxation purposes, what would you rather do?! Sometimes I am not 100% focused on being Russian, infact was I ever even 10% focused on being Russian?! What I mean though is that I am here to learn the language above all else, the culture comes with it to a certain extent and I have read a Chekhov play (although it was compulsory) but I think there is so much more to life than reading overly depressing, gloomy Russian texts. I get a lot of snide comments coming my way over the fact that I am pro-capitalist, and how could I possibly study Russian AND like reading Cosmo, shopping and eating out in fine restaurants?! It doesn’t make sense to a lot of people. It makes sense to me. Sorry, are you guys following what I am saying?! My ideas aren’t flowing so coherently today. What I am trying to say is that Communism ended a long time ago, Russia is expanding and growing up a bit. They are hopelessly running around in circles with most things they seem to attempt but finally they are embracing true (and isn’t it wonderful?) Capitalism with open arms, and in some respects it is a success, for example with their new and improved version of Cosmopolitan magazine. Western indoctrination will be able to reach the four corners of Russia; I am so happy!

Am also happy about the weather – it is a gloriously warm day, well it is at least +5 degrees. For the first time I am not wearing my winter coat and have opted instead for a small jacket, straight from the hands of God I might add, in the softest of leathers. Naturally I have teamed it up with another layer of jumper and I still have my gloves and scarf (Mulberry) but the fact that it is short and lightweight is psychologically pleasing and I really feel like Vesno is finally here.

The birds are singing, the sun is shining, I don’t need passport photos for a VISA, all the little dogs came out to play and I have a big fat glossy magazine waiting for me to read. Life in Russia is almost normal today. I said ‘almost’ normal. Only 8 days until I go to Sweden…

2002-04-08T11:48:00.000Z

After having posted my review this morning, I thought it was time to write my weekend story. My weekend was very cool, but quite tiring. I am sitting here in my office in a daze, wondering how I am going to get through the rest of the day without falling asleep. My task today is dreadfully boring, I have been close to nodding off for a while now and so here I am procrastinating again because I thought it would it was a good way to keep me awake.

So, Friday after work the weekend officially began. I met Sophia and we had a lovely time just chatting, the two of us, before we went to meet Jemma and Ed, and go to a Rhythm & Blues bar. That was then painful. Not meeting up with either Jemma or Ed, but enduring the girls that Ed had brought along; four 17/18 year old girls that we (Sophia, myself and Jemma) had NOTHING in common with. They were dreadful, precocious, spoiled brats who were self-important and arrogant and sat on this cloud of superiority, also known as stupidity. Waah, waah, waah. I thought Sophia was going to smack them after they shared their views on why Cambridge was the only place to study, why they thought studying languages wasn’t such a good thing, and how they thought living in Russia was easy – little freaks! They were just really young I guess and a bit clueless. I have never felt so old, ancient and worldly wise in my life. I sat there with a smug grin on my face over the horrendously idiotic things they were saying. It was a nightmare from the moment we met up until the moment we ditched them, when of course us three went into bitch mode and tore those brats to pieces

Saturday we got up at 07.30 (what an abuse to my senses to wake up so early and not go to work) to go to the beautiful Leningradsky train station to meet Dee and Tom off the St Petersburg train. Of course this was after a big breakfast, which babushka insisted we have. Pizza was it?! Something random no doubt. Anyway, met up with Dee, met up with Lex, then trekked into the town centre. First stop Red Sq, St Basils etc... then we went inside the Kremlin which was just astoundingly beautiful. Jam-packed with beautiful buildings & well-kept gardens, with not a single soviet block or Lada in sight and oozing with wealth and prosperity, it didn’t feel or look like Russia, at all. We went into the Armoury and whizzed round all the historical things, uttering hmmms and being cultured. This was of course until we saw all the Faberge goodies - in all honesty this is what we had come to see. Some were a bit naff but others left you standing there with your mouth hanging open, they were very beautiful. (I wouldn’t mind the price tag of any of them either.) My favourite though was an egg that had the map of the Trans-Siberian intricately carved on the side and a rail-track in the middle. For the track there was a train that had a platinum engine and ruby head-lights. All of this was made of precious materials. It was very neat, the prettiest train I ever saw. Brio trains?! Naaaaah, forget them now - I would MUCH rather have this toy!!! After such cultural endeavors it was time for lunch, which was naturally (being girly girls as we were all weekend, the four of us together again) followed by ice-cream, of the chocolate variety. Oh and then some shopping. I went through a small depression because Russian fashion is bad and so although we were there in the shops and it was nice to be in the shops, it was annoying because they did not sell such nice things. Russian women dress badly and they are all tiny, tiny, tiny. Us four are normal sized and we towered over them and looked like heffers - honestly, it was not a good boost to ones self esteem and at this I had a slight fit of Russia Rage and got quite cranky. Than it was time to go to Brads (Canadian) 24th birthday party, and I realized that it is a malinkie mir/small world… We got to the party and these Canadians, who had come from St Petersburg to Moscow for the weekend, actually knew Denise as they lived in the same building as her all the way over in St Pete’s. It was pretty funny and a nice time was had. We didn’t stay too long though as we were tired after the days adventures. Disaster happened as soon as I got home, my eyes started puffing. I think it was the cat, combined with smoke and dirt from the city. It was dreadful, I looked like the phantom of the opera and my eyes were massive and puffy. My eyes were streaming and I was very irritable. It was a bad end to an overall good day.

Anyhoe... woke up Sunday morning early again and was tired, but plodded on. After another bog breakfast (this time some form of meat dipped in fat) we went to Ismailovsky market. At first I didn’t like it too much as they had bears on show and this always saddens me, they looked so sad, all chained up. We went deeper into the market though and it was filled to the brim with tourist tack – Yes!!! Think Matrioskas, think tea sets and chess sets, think wooden Russian handicraft, think Soviet memorabilia, think little eggs. Great. I hadn’t actually bought anything typically Russian yet, that wasn’t edible and so I was very happy to have the opportunity to see so much and in one concentrated place. I bought a hat, a big fur hat made from sable fur - mmmmmm, very very very soft. Perhaps not very PC to wear real fur but then it is a damned cool hat and so do I honestly really care?! It is very KGB chic, very Lara (as in Dr Zhivago) and will look wicked with my sunglasses, black coat, black knee-length boots and a little black mini. Traditional, stereotyped views of Russian women and not very true to life of today’s style-less, haven’t eaten in three years new Russian women. I am very happy, and cannot wait to parade around in it – note to oneself, must live in a cold climate otherwise very cosmo Russian fur hat will be relegated to fancy dress parties. I may just have to go back to this market as you can barter and that is always fun, I felt so happy leaving the market that the Metro ride back into town seemed almost bearable. Back into town then, walked along the Old Arbat and paid homage to Peter Green (the fictional character from our first year Russian text book) - yes, how sad are we?! It had to be done though. The weekend would not have been complete without it.

So, all in all a very complete weekend was had. We had fun being together again, being girls and giggling and sharing Russia and our exasperation over how rude people here can be, how drunk they can get, how shameless they are, how big a contrast there is between high and low echelons of society, etc…. Oh, and we even saw a blue dog. Beat that one for a fulfilling weekend!

2002-04-08T07:15:00.000Z

A short while ago I was playing around with my blog, reading other peoples blogs and just messing around really. I came across something, which at the time seemed like a good idea, the ‘Peer-to-Peer Review Project’. Upon reflection I am not sure that this has been such a god idea because I have been wracking my brain over it. Basically what happens is that you submit your blog to be reviewed by a random person and at the same time you have to review another random persons blog. The review of my blog I am not stressing about as I can handle criticism (well, at least about my writing) but the review of another completely unknown person’s blog is a bit of a daunting task and has had me in a state of panic almost over what to write. I mean, what I write could easily offend, right?! Anyway, bearing in mind that these are my personal ideas I present to you my review of “Abscission”

Anxiously, I click on the link to see for the very first time the page I would be reviewing. An eye-catching page appears on my screen with the word “Abscission” in bright colours. Where is the writing though?! Ahaaaa, now I get it, this is an introductory front page like one would expect in a book. Nice. All good so far, I continue and the first thing that my eye is drawn to is “perjantai, maaliskuu 29.” Finnish. I must have gotten a Finn, who writes in English. Actually, no, I got Katharine Magary, an American girl who just writes her day headers in Finnish. This is going to be an interesting, if not unusual read. I continue to read, I check out the very useful ‘FAQ/Cast/Characters/Links’ sections and I spend a long time delving through the Archives. Conclusions?! Here they are:

Abscission, the botanical term that describes the separation of a leaf from the stem, is the day-to-day diary of a 17-year-old high school senior from San Francisco, her trials in life and thoughts on the many choices she has to make. I think the title of Katharine’s page is appropriate as she is setting out into the big open world and making a name for herself; although she complains it was due to exasperation since all other domains were taken. Not wanting to sound patronizing, this is an exciting time in life for anyone and this ‘blog’ is an honest journey of someone coming to terms with what she should do after high school, i.e. with the rest of her life. Although the writer is young, she manages to come across as someone who is mature, who has fairly solid ideas about who she is and the way things are, and she makes no qualms about this. She is obviously very intelligent.

The page’s lay out and design is, for the most part, pleasing to the eye and as I said before I liked the idea of an opening page - it really feels like an on-going saga. The extras, the nitty-gritty information about ‘who’ this person/writer actually is were very useful, in-depth and insightful. I also particularly liked the thought/idea that the people in ones lives are like characters in one long story.

The style of writing is eclectic; from Finnish headings, to American-isms, to computer jargon, to scientific terms etc… If anything it keeps us on our toes with its variation. It is not necessarily a literary masterpiece, but then again it is just a web-log - an honest, thinking with your fingers means of communicating ones ideas and anecdotes.

From day to day happenings, to inner-most thoughts, to explanations of her parallel universe, I thoroughly enjoyed reading Abscission. It would be an interesting read for any old nosy person, but I particularly recommend it to people of a young age (late-teens, the writers peers) who are at those cliche crossroads, trying to figure out the route they want to take through life.

2002-04-05T10:23:00.000Z

Today I am once again amazed at the apparent lack of shame that Russian people seem to have. Hello?! Do you not care about what you are doing, how you actually look, and about the consequences of your actions?! Grrrrr, I have a bee in my bonnet.

Last night I came out of work and stepped into a snow storm... Dyed Moros / Father Frost strikes again! Although it was bitterly cold and the snow was driving into my eyes, it was actually quite cool as the flakes were swirling all around me and snow is just so beautiful and makes Russia take on a fairy-tale look. I was enjoying walking on the fresh virgin snow - it is quite satisfying feeling the fresh crunch under your feet. I got home after playing in the snow for a while, you have to appreciate the small things in life and Lyuda (my babushka) insisted that I had some food before my aerobics class -you know just incase I passed out from lack of food or something. OK then. I had my aerobics class which should be re-named a pole dancing class. Example number one of 'do these Russians have no shame?' I mean it really was quite kinky and perhaps even a bit pervy. Oh my goodness, what our instructor wants us to do with these big poles - it involved lots of girating lets say. These leotard-clad Russian women were really getting into it while I was left standing there half-heartedly moving about a bit and blushing. I think they thought it was funny, I was living up to the stereotypes of a British woman, a bit prudish really. Aheeeem, well I wouldn't go as far as to say I was quite like that (and you wonder why I spend a lot of time in Sweden) but I certainly didn't feel so comfortable last night and was amazed at these women who really were getting into it. I was relieved when the torture session was over and I got to go home where there is not a pole in sight or spandex bums flaunted 10cm from your face.

Jemma was not feeling to good yesterday and so did not come to aerobics but she felt like getting a bit of fresh air and so we went out for a walk, and I saw the sweetest little sausage dog. It was tiny and hobbled along and had a blanket pinned onto him to keep him warm in the snow. As soon as I stepped outside the apartment building he came running over to me for some attention. I got a bit over excited to see him, he really was the cutest little thing you understand. His owner was a young guy not much older than me and he heard me speak (although it was more like a squeak/squeal-esque high pitched noise) English to the dog and so decided he would yell over to me. This was my second example of 'do these Russians have no shame?' He obviously knew what he was saying, that it was bad, but really wanted to show off his English and so instead of uttering a polite dobrej vecher he yells out a string of verbal abuses in English... mainly lots of words beginning with the letter F! I couldn't believe it, and wanted to kid-nap the little doggy right there and then - he doesn’t deserve to hear such obscenities, whereas if he lived with me he would be pampered and I would take him shopping and feed him biscuits. Ahhhh.

Anyhoe, moving on. Example number three of 'do these Russians have no shame?' would be this morning whilst riding the Metro to work. Bear in mind that the Metro is always very very busy and is a great opportunity for people watching. People regularly stare at others, check them out etc... and so surely you would not want to be doing something that draws too much attention to ones self, or to be doing things that others shouldn't see you doing, right?! Well this is how it is in my world anyway, but not here. On my second train this morning this man was openly standing there with half of his hand stuck up his nose, having a good old pick. There must have been at least fifty other people in the carriage yet he didn’t seem to mind us. Then there was a woman about my age, openly reading a 'porn' magazine and even it up to have a better look. I just couldn't believe it. To use my catch phrase... OIR - Only in Russia!

Then, I was waiting for my mini-bus just outside the metro station and this horrible man gave me my example number four. Now in Moscow there are lots of stray dogs and they hang around the metro and just try to keep warm, keep the babushka's company and don’t really harm anybody. I quite like to see them curled up and have a soft spot for them, the uglier the mut the better! This morning this one dog happened to be out and about, stretching his legs and he unfortunately got in the way of this ugly fat man. Instead of the man moving the dog out of the way or walking around and maybe even cursing, he took revenge out on the poor creature and spat out his chewing gum onto the wee dog’s fur. Can you believe that?! The dog then trued to get the gum out of its fur but I am sure we all know that this is a nigh impossible task and so he was pulling at it with his teeth and it was stretching out like mozzarella and he was becoming really distressed and anxious. It was horrible. I stood in aghast and I did not really know what to do, and then my min-bus came. I swear if I ever see that man again I will whack him one. As for the dog… maybe I will try find it after work and buy it a biscuit or something. Was going to say hot-dog but that might stress him out a bit and may class as some form cannibalism or something. I just cannot get over the rudeness and arrogance of some (Russian) people!!!

Luckily though no-body in my office seems to be like that and so when I am in here I can almost forget about it. Today I am being amused by Stas and his love of the very cheesy 1980s Swedish, aheeem, ‘rock band’ Roxette. We bring in different CDs to listen to and share (bonding) which is normally quite fun as his taste of music is bizarre, to say the least. Today he proclaimed his favorite ‘Roxette’ song was 'Dressed For Success’ and I can just imagine this guy playing this song every morning and prancing around, loving himself. Actually he is pretty shameless too… Is there actually any escaping it?! Arrgggghhhhhhh.

2002-04-04T12:40:00.000Z

Last night I left work and I was in the company mini-bus, which takes us from the office to the nearest metro station. Everyone is silent on this bus normally; I have noticed that Russians don't tend to talk in confined spaces and well, I certainly don't talk because then everyone would know that I was foreign and then I would really get no peace - as it is people are always looking at me as the 'foreign one'. So, I was sitting there and enjoying the silence and next thing you know my bag starts vibrating and my phone is ringing its high-pitched ring... why oh why can't Nokia create something non-ear-piercing?! How embarrasing. I pick my phone up with as non-conspicious a "Hello" as I could manage. It was my friend Dee (Brazilian, one of the infamous four of us who study Russian at Bath yet are not so 'Russia mad' and so have become really close-knit) calling from St Petersburg. It was great to hear her voice, although it was also very difficult to hear over the crackles in the line, and I was aware that I was shouting. Now, in Russia I have not noticed much mobile phone ettiquette and it seems to be a normal occurence that people let their mobiles go off in restaurants, cinemas and even at the Bolshoie! Even in places of silence people will answer their phones and will gleefully talk loudly as if to let the world know that they have a mobile phone. Woooh! (Sorry, am really blase about phones after having lived in Finland, land of the mobile phone.) I know I am starting to pick up some Russian traits (rudeness, semi-smiling, chilled out attitude to work etc...) but in saying this though, I am still funny about having a 'one-way' conversation in public (especially in a foreign language) and I did not want to make a big song and dance about having a mobile, like your average 'nouveau Russian' does. It was a bit awkward and in the end I hung up the phone until I was in a more secluded place, ie off the mini-bus and beside this highway thing, and waited for Dee to call back.

Anyway, the point of that story was that Russian's make a big song and dance out of using their mobile phones and they think it is quite alright to be sitting in the likes of a mini-bus and for the twenty people in the close vicinity to hear every single word of what they are shouting. I guess it is another form of them being able to show off their wealth and again it makes me question why these people actually put up with Communism for so long if they are quite obviously not the type of people to be fading wall-flowers.

Secondly, and definately much more frivilous a point is that Dee is coming to Moskva for the weekend from St Petes AND that Lex is going to come too, from Yaroslavl! This means that all four of us are going to be together at the one time which we haven't been for months and months and months. I hope that Russia will be able to take the noise that will be us four sitting in a cafe and squealing over gossip, catching up. I am very excited about this and cannot wait to compare notes with Dee over life in Moscow vs. life in St Petersburg, and to hear about just how different it is in comparison to her home, Rio de Janeiro. How whacko is she?! From Brazil (sun, warmth and beaches) to... Russia (No sun, grey sky, snow and a frozen sea). Nutcase. It will be so nice to see her though, she is lovely. I am making the most of seeing my girlfriends while I actually can because they are going to leave Russia before I do and then I will be all alone for a few months. Am trying to block that thought to the back of my mind... Will be all alone. Yikes! I will by then (hopefully) be more confident and happy about using my Russian and will enjoy nights out and meetings with Russian friends - at the moment that is not relaxation. Not yet anyway. Ah, it will all be fine. No worries.

OK, but I am going to head off now. Back to translations and trying to keep warm; I told you about my heating crisis and while it is (apparently) +16 in Gothenburg and I am looking forward to going there, being warm and seeing the flowers and the seaguls etc... In reality I am not actually there yet (only 14 days, that is two weeks today) and it is freezing cold here and only going to get colder. It will be below -5 tomorrow they say. Oh dear.

Funny Russian word for you all before I head off, and it is best not asking why I learned this word today... Windmill in Russian is vetryanaya melneetsa. Fun, huh?!

2002-04-03T09:30:00.000Z

Fiona = deux points. Old Mother Russia = nil points. I have made a breakthrough with Russia... up yours old Mother Russia, you trolleybus-driving bitch with a bad sense of humour!

First of all I made a break through with the language, a big one. OK, perhaps it is not so big. I did not wake up this morning and realize that I was fluent – sadly. However, when you feel like you are hitting your head off a brick wall whilst trying to learn this language, this IS a big thing. So, I have been given the Russian plan of the new company web-page, which I have been asked to read over and amend if I think it needs a few adjustments or even completely re-written (eeeek, they trust my judgement). I have to also translate it into English, so as we can make a new English plan, although who for?! That is beyond me, considering that internally speaking (and this is only just a plan, an idea and not yet released to the public yet) I am the only native English speaker here, hmmmm. As with most things in Russia I have learned not to question why and have just set to my work like a little mouse (ya kak muishka). I have been working through pages of Russian text and learning new words, recognizing grammar points and all the rest of it. This was when I made my break through. I spotted a mistake in a native speaker’s Russian. I (a person who speaks Russian like the average two year old) spotted a spelling mistake, AND a grammar mistake. I am excited by this, how sad am I?! I am not just being anal, no. This means I know what I am talking about. Finally.

Second breakthrough is that in this monster of a city (it really is huge) I am starting to recognize people, not only at the office but on the way to work and in my neighbourhood. I am even beginning to name them in my head and make up stories about them, which is a normal thing for me to do so do not worry. This morning I saw black eye-shadow woman and fake Bally handbag woman. We sort of smiled (no-one here really smiles after all) in acknowledgement at one another. It is nice. After having begun to loose faith a little bit, I have jumped back on the bandwagon and have decided that Russia is pretty cool again and I am continuing to become like a Russian, only half-smiling etc…

Oh, another Russian trait I have picked up is being cold in the warmth. This sounds crazy, huh?! It is normal behavior, I shall explain… When I first came to Russia I would die of heat in the apartment, the heating blazes 24/7, and it is normally well above +25, which is pretty high for room temperature. I thought it was too hot (and this is me who likes to be cosy) and would often sleep with just a vest and no covers. After time though I got used to this heat and it even became a normal occurrence to be so warm, even if it was perhaps only minus outside. I adjusted and my body became dependant of the heat. However, now the temperature has dropped again and the heat has remained the same (they don’t have thermostats here) and so I am really cold. For a non-Russian (even a Scandinavian, a Finn or someone from Alaska) visiting a Russian apartment, my room would seem stiflingly warm. This, however, is how Russians live and they have heating on ALL the time until May, with no chance of changing the temp. to be ‘comfortable.’ Although I lived in Helsinki, where it was often much much colder than Moscow, we would have the temperature to be just about right in our house, when it got warm we turned it down, vice versa. This way it was always ‘just so.’ In Russia, unless you live in a lux pent-house this is nigh impossible, so you learn to deal with the heat and then when it gets cold again after a warm spell, you freeze your butt off. Thus I found it cold last night and so I went to bed dressed for an artic expedition – with my fleecy pyjamas, vest, jumper, knew length fleecy socks and towel - it was +25 in my room! Very attractive.

At least the sun is shining again though and when it shines on the snow it all sparkles and it is so pretty. Ahhhhh, sigh.

2002-04-02T11:21:00.000Z

The winds of change have blown on Moscow…

Quite literally. The weather has taken a turn for the worse. I cannot believe that all weekend I basked in the sunlight, wore my sunglasses and even took off my coat at one point. The weather today is like it was when I first arrived here in January. It is no longer sunny, bright and warming up. No longer Spring. It is Winter. Brrrrr, I am going back through time. It is snowing - big flakes of wet snow/mokrie sneg that stick to all the trees and walls and make Russia almost seem like an ideal setting for a fairytale. Being foreign and exotic (for Russian standards I really am, remember?!) I get to play the ‘princess’… It is just a shame that all the ‘princes’ walk around in shell-suits, swaying away with their mullets.

The wind has changed in my heart too. I am feeling sad about being in Russia. Feeling a little Melancholy. I am pretty sure the human body is like a barometer. Everyone seems a bit more glum today than they have looked over the past week, when the sun has been beaming down on us.

For me though, it all really started last week, and since then I have been experiencing some problems with inspiration… As you may well have read, I received some very unpleasant, snide comments. I had written an email to my classmates, something we all do on a regular occasion, and in reply (to my whole class) somebody had set up an email account under the name ‘posh tart # 2’ and ripped apart my light-hearted email and my views on life here in Moscow. It was a completely unexpected attack. They basically implied that I was spoiled, vain, pretentious, self-important, ignorant, lazy, stupid and something about me opening my arms to Capitalism and wanting to sleep with George W Bush. YUK! This I can normally handle (I mean how pathetic to do something like that?! How badly does it reflect on them, and not me?! How silly that at this age people cannot accept others differences?!), but Moscow is not easy, and as I continue to get to know the ‘Russian’ way of life I am getting tired and so it came as a blow to me, and indeed my ego. I have spent too much time worrying over it all weekend, talking it over with the class mates I have seen and heard from since then, and it is all solved now – but I am yet wary. I am wary of what I write, of what I think out loud and of what comes across. I feel like I should justify myself as I would hate to be wrongly looked at.

So, I have been labeled as 'Daddy's little rich girl who likes spending money on clothes and not much else'. This echoes some truth (I am still dependant on parents and I do like shopping) but it is far from being the whole truth. I am supporting myself by working here and not only gaining independence, but I am learning about the very exciting world of the Merchant Paper Industry, about a new culture and I am really coming to terms with the Russian language. I may not be studying at university, but I am still learning (school of life, and all that), and I may have opted for Moscow as opposed to some small city in the middle of nowhere, but at the end of the day Moscow is blatantly still in Russia. I saved us all the hassle of having to hear me moan about being cut off - I knew my limitations, where I should go. Big deal if I am a chicken and like to be near bars, restaurants, shops, IKEA or McDonalds! Sometimes it is what I need to cope. There is nothing wrong with embracing capitalism (I appreciate why people do rave on about Communism yes, but each to their own political view, huh?! Don’t want to get into political debate though as this is supposed to be fun) or enjoying a few home comforts, and I feel that having already lived in different cultures, I am well prepared what to expect and how to react to my behaviour. If I need to go walk around some expensive, designer shops then so be it. This does not make me a bad person and hardly affects my Russian.

I am experiencing Russian life, this is what I aim to share with you by blogging. This is not an engine in which to moan (although sometimes I do, sorry, bear with me) or which is wholly about me, me, me. I do admit it is an exhibitionist thing to do and I do like some attention, but I am not on some ego trip all the time. I am nothing special, am just me and these are my views. I do not mean to offend and hurt anyone by writing what I do. I just mean to share my news and views of Russia, Moscow, Russian People, etc…

Phew. This has been playing on my mind now for some time. I am not necessarily a strong or brave person, but this is who I am and I would appreciate if people were going to come out right and slag me off, that they would at least give me warning or try to be nice about it. Again, I am naïve… Maybe the problem is that I am too nice, I am popular and friendly and some people are jealous… See, I really have been thinking over this whole problem far too much. It has consumed my thoughts since Friday… What else have I been doing though?! What motions have I been going through since then?!

Well, Saturday we took Lex to the train station and then headed back into town and were going to go and get something to eat, but randomly bumped into some people on Tverskaya (big main shopping street, a bit like London’s Oxford Street) who told us that three of the girls from our course were passing through Moscow by train. It was all very exciting and whirlwind. First of all we had met people we knew… in Moscow! This would make anyone feel at home, when you know people and don’t feel like everyone’s stranger – which in a city this size is a normal occurrence. Off we (me and Sophia) went then to go and meet the other girls at this other train station, which was full of sad looking people and had loud speakers blaring out words all the time – it really felt like we were in Russia... surprising that, huh?! What I mean though is that Russia for me often conjures up images of floodlit train stations, sad looking people and loud speakers that boom out frightening sounds and usher people to their places. It is a very soviet image for me. Anyway, the girls… What a surprise they got! It was lovely to see the smiles of genuine pleasure on their faces and to have a quick chat about their lives. How brave they are, they are studying in Voronezh, a small city that is very ‘Russian’ and not as westernized as here – they apparently turn the water off during the day. I am such a person that could not go and live there but I take my hat off to anyone who does. Perhaps I shall go and visit, I am sure I can handle the boonies for a weekend at least. This was my highlight of Saturday…

Oh yes, that and ANOTHER run in with the Militzia. Can you believe the cheek of this?! I was coming out of the Metro at Tetralnaya where the doors are VERY heavy and have a tendency to push me over. I was coming out of the EXIT/VUIHOD, but at the same time this big, fat, militzia man was trying to come into the building. He basically knocked me sideways and it was lucky the door never slammed in my face. I was shocked and so squealed out “Excuse me” (yes, looking for trouble these days) and pointed to the VUIHOD sign. He did not like this and flatly put me down with the reply “Eto ne dlya nas,” basically “it is not for us” – as if to say “Hey, little miss. I am important. You see this uniform, huh?! It means I can do WHATEVER I want. Don’t question me.” At this I sighed rather loudly, glared right back at him and marched off. Bloody arrogant Russian men!!!

Sunday was Easter – but not Russian Easter, as the Orthodox Easter is the first weekend in May – and so I went to Sophia’s flat and had a Korean Dinner there. It was wonderful. Not quite the traditional big Sunday dinner that my family normally would have, but the food was amazing and the touches were there… we had chicken napkins and flowers and Kinder Eggs. It was nice to bring together different traditions and cultures. We ate food from one place, had people from all over (including Russia) and there we were… in Moscow. It was really very, very nice, however for the first time since I have been here I felt a real twang of heavy-hearted homesickness to be with my family, and this melancholy has stayed with me until now. I just cannot shake it off. I am not unhappy as such, just sad, and I think after two months it is time to get out for a bit and see something that is familiar to me. I am after all slipping into what is comfortable. I would rather spend my evenings and weekends reading English, not Russian or hanging out with my friends (English or French speakers) as opposed to my new Russian friends. If I go away soon for a little while and get it out of my system, then I am sure to come back and throw myself into Russia again - which is the whole point of me being here. I just need to re-charge, be completely spoiled, eat some non-fatty food to please my body, breath some green air, go to shops with smiling assistants, walk down the streets and see genuine happiness and tell all my stories about Russia and share its crazy-ness with the people I love. Thus I am going to Sweden in… shestnadtsat dne/sixteen days. Yipppeeeeeeeee! The melancholy will pass. Do not worry, ne stressez pas, il faut avoir un peu de Zen!

2002-03-30T14:20:00.000Z

Decided to take the day off from blogging on Friday despite being at the office. I was not inspired after having received some catty remarks about my blog being a big ego trip, me being a pointless rich tart and questioning why I bothered coming to Russia at all because I obviously wasn't making an effort to appreciate it. Nice, huh?! Well, water off a ducks back... People are entitled to have their own opinions and at the end of the day I have my family, friends and loved ones, so who really cares about what others think?! Obviously though I took it into consideration and had a day of pondering. My head hung low and I was a bit melancholy, but am I really doing anyone any harm by writing my honest opinions about Russia?! No. I know in my heart that I chose to come here, I actually have a soft spot for the place and the culture is astounding. I like Russia. I like Moscow. I am making an effort. Yes, I prefer 'new' Russia to heavy commnunist manifesto pounding and i do like my home comforts, but at the end of the deep I am living deep in darkest Russia and am having fun. My blogs are often a way to vent my frustration but then I bounce back, am happy and I enjoy living here and meeting all the people I have met. Do I need to justify myself?! No. I am here, this is what I think. If you don't like it then don't visit - simple as that. Phew. Glad to get that one out of the way.

Anyway, I took yesterday afternoon off of work. Stas (my colleague, who IS Russian) took me into town and we sat outside eating ice-cream with his friends (thats right, all Russian) and then looked at some shops (shock horror, and if I wanted to look at a handbag I had to ask for it in Russian) before heading to meet Sophia. Finally Sophia met the illustrious Stas and people no longer think he is a figment of my imagination. Yes! After this it was on to meet Alexia and Ed, a guy I knew from Helsinki whose parents are out here at the British Embassy. The last time I saw Ed, he was still a boy and last night I met him and he had turned into a charming young man. How ancient do I sound?! Yes, at the grand old age of 21... It was lovely to catch up, although weird to delve into history and think about lives past. It was a late night. Sophia was with me, she stayed over at mine and we sat giggling until the wee small hours. Frivilous fun and fingers up to comments made. Do I really care?! When I have ALL this?! If anything I should be grateful and not hurt, it has made me truelly appreciate that I am happy with the way I lead my life - although it may be different to others and not very academic.

Today the Sun has been shining all day. We missed Lenin. We missed the Armoury so walked around Alexandrovsky Sad/Park and then stood on Red Sq and admired, in awe. Then we took Lex to the train station and she headed back to Yaroslavl :( Not long till she comes back though, no doubt. Here I am though, at an internet cafe, have done some emailing and thought I would blog too... Hope you didnt miss me yesterday!!!

2002-03-28T13:54:00.000Z

I ate so much last night that even still now, towards the end of the next work day, I feel full. Ah, but it was so good to pig out and to fully enjoy food. Russian cuisine has its ups and its downs lets just say, and so it has happened that recently I am not very entusiasitc about eating, something, which (for me) is a bit of a miracle. I love eating, something very sociable about the whole process but at the moment am just not fussed. Last night though I gained some of my apetitie back. Hooorah! I didn't eat Russian food; no fried pasta, deep fried things and fat dipped in fat for me. Oh no! We caved in, could no longer take all the Russian-ness and so we went to an ex-pat hang out (an American themed restaurant) for some home comforts and just a different style of food, something we are used to. It was in all honesty my friend Alexia's choice because she is out in Yaroslavl and so before leaving Moscow to go back to an even less civilised (sorry, I mean Western) place she thought she had better stock up on hamburgers and fries and apple-pie and milkshake. It was very good, I have to admit. I went into 'devour' mode and I think my eyes may have definately been bigger than my stomach. What a treat. I actually ate so much that after I waddled home I could do nothing else but lie on my bed like a pig sitting in some mud. I lay there, thinking about what a lovely evening it had been with good food and my closest friends around me, what lovely discussions we had and how brave we all are dealing with Russia... It was a great ego-boosting evening and we were a bit riled up and ready to face Old Mother Russia... despite the fact that we couldn't move!

So yes, am lying in bed thinking these nice things, on a bubble and then my lovely little babushka comes into my room and says "Go F*** yourself!" I hurled myself up, dazed. "Sorry, what did you just say?!" It was then that she realised that she had not indeed picked up something cool but it was indeed a bad word. A VERY bad word. Role reversal on normality in life. Me (youth) teaching a little old lady (old-age) about language. How very strange it was to try and explain to her, about what it meant and why she shouldn't use it. It was very cringe-worthy for me and her, but am glad that it was just a mis-understanding because it was very abrubt having her come in and say that, my whole body just shuddered. I don't know many swear words in Russian, and I am happy that it stays that way. A language without swearing would be nice. After much thinking I have decided that swearing is actually pretty bad, I really don't like it. With this in mind I shall make a concerted effort to cut it out, it is just very unladylike, and will speak a purer form of English to set as a better example for all those people learning English.

When I want to give up something Lent is the ideal time but as of Sunday it will be over - many kids accross the western world will be rejoicing and stuffing their faces with masses of chocolate, ahhhhh. The key word to that last sentence being 'Western.' In Russia it is not Easter this weekend because Russia is predominantly Orthodox and the Orthodox Easter is sometime around May, which means that I can kind of adopt some Russian Orthodox traditions and give up swear words (not bliny/little pancakes like they do here). I am very lucky. I get to have Easter in May and now. Much cause for celebration. Holidays!!! Yeah!!! We are celebrating round at Sophia's flat on Sunday and her flatmate, who is from Korea, is cooking us Korean food. Cool, huh?! Looks like my apetitie is coming back to me fully. Russia really isn't that bad you know.

2002-03-27T11:28:00.000Z

I have been in Russia for two months today already AND I am still alive, have not run away yet and am even still smiling. This calls for a celebration, yeah!!! Two months down, only five to go!!! But seriously, I am happy to be here and am surprised at how much like a duck to water I have taken to Russia. I know that all things Russian leave me a little confused and at times very stressed out, but I am quite proud of myself that I am managing to live a somewhat normal life and that I am coping so well with being here... in MOSCOW, and speaking... RUSSIAN. My head is not just above water but my shoulders are out there too. Old Mother Russia may be a dirty trolley-bus driving bitch with a bad sense of humour but I think that I am doing OK and so I am having a moment of self-congratulation. Bare with me... It is one of those days when I am all happy, I am looking quite good, my hair is sitting well, I love my new Iceberg sunglasses and just everything is good. The sun is shining, the Spring is here and I am surviving.

Last night I made a(nother) faux-pas. This one was quite funny though and all parties saw the funny side. So, after work I went to Olgas kvartira/appartment for a French-Russian language exchange. All was going well... we were going over some Russian grammar and we were having fun, but most importantly I was speaking Russian and it was sounding quite good and realistic... that was, until I had to say that I finished. There are two ways to say this in Russian, as Russian is one of these lovely languages that has not one, but two verbs and sometimes maybe more when you add synonyms and all that. Anyway, koncheet or zakoncheet. The university never told us that although gramatically speaking they both mean to finish, in real live Russian situations and in general conversation koncheet does not so much imply "to finish", rather than "to come". Me declaring Ya koncheela with a long sigh of relief, therefore was hilariously funny. I didn't get the joke, until of course Olga explained, and so now I am fully aware as to what this means and will be careful to not use this in the future AND to warn other students of this before they head off to Russia and make the same mistake. I am glad it happened with a friend and not my boss!!!

After Olga's I came home and watched the (I know, a few days late) Oscars dubbed into Russian - just painful. You could hear the beginings of jokes but then the Russian man would start with his voiceover and although you could almost hear the English underneath, it often was not clear and the Russian sense of humour is very different and so it was all lost. Still, it was a nice excuse to look at posh frocks, to squeal at the injustice, to laugh at the bad acting and falseness of some of the speeches and to watch Sting. Am going through a bit of a Sting phase at the moment. Don't ask... It shall be discussed and no doubt gotten over at dinner tonight (along with Nicholas Cage, Russel Crowe etc...) when I meet Sophia and Alexia for dinner. We are going to the Starlight Diner, an American restaurant specialising in hamburgers and milkshakes and other culinary delights. This was Alexia's choice because she is only in Moscow for a week before heading back to Yaroslavl, which is no-where near as civilised as Moscow. Really... Moscow is not as bad as I sometimes make out. I actually quite like it, somewhere deep down anyway!!!

2002-03-27T11:26:00.000Z

2002-03-26T12:25:00.000Z

What can I say?! The Bolshoi was breathtaking, it left a big impression on me. The building itself is something special, then you go inside, walk up and along the old sweeping staircases and corridors with marble and polished wood, through inconspicous little wooden doors and into the theatre itself. Wow. A mass of luxury. Red, gold, crystal, velvet, silk. I couldn't get over it. I sat dow in my very good seat (first circle, near the centre box where the likes of the Tsar, Lenin and Stalin would have sat) and just abosrbed it all. I couldn't speak, and this doesn't often happen. It was very old (this year is the 226th Season) yet kept with care and with chilling reminders of the Soviet Times; inate carvings of the hammer and sickle/serp u molot in gold above the stage and the stitched in gold thread onto the curtains in amongst CCCP/USSR. It was very, very beautiful, and that was just the surroundings...

The lights then dimmed, the whole theatre (full house) hushed, the Conductor came out and the music began. It was an Opera. Verdi's 3rd ever full opera. Not one that is very well known, least not here in Russia. Nabucco. It was very enjoyable, although hard work. In Italian, with Russian subtitles on a screen above the stage. I didn't know what to do. I wanted to watch the singers, their costumes and the scenary, I wanted to listen to the music, to read the subtitles, to watch the orchestra and then just watch all the people in the audience. It was thorough entertainment for three and a half hours of my life and I came out still a bit speechless. The music left a mark in me and was very moving, so much so at times that the hairs on the back of my neck stood up on end and I got shivers. I think I might just have to have some more of this. I might just have to go again. I might just be infatuated with the Bolshoi Theatre.

Finally!!! I found something in Russia to really go 'ahhh' about, something that makes my jaw drop and makes me feel really special and lucky that I am here in Moscow. I have been inspired. Saturday I will be brave - I am going to go and see Lenin, as in the body of this very very dead man. Not just a tomb, but the body. I have been too scared to go and see him, have been putting it off, but Russia and I are on good terms and so I will brave it (with Sophia by my side.. she will beat him up incase he resurrects and scares me) and do some more 'cultural' things. Life is good.

This morning on the way to work I listened to my "När Gud skapade Sverige, Han skapade svenska killar" CD - a personally complied CD full of insanely stupid songs, private jokes and funny moments from two summers ago when Jenelle and I made a(nother) tour of Scandinavia. I have hapy memories floating through my head and I am not fussed about being here in Russia. I don't have a care in the world right now (well, almost). I am sitting here at my desk with the sun shining on my back, I have a meeting in an hour which I am fully prepared for and I have the lyrics of a Lisa Ekdahl song running through my head "...Att himlen är blå, och jag är lycklig och stark..." I must be in a good mood ;-)

Ladies and Gentlemen... You have to come to Russia. To Moscow. To the Bolshoi Theatre.

2002-03-25T13:32:00.000Z

Am not thinking of Muppets today, am back on track to being the highly cultured, intellectual (ha ha) yet down to earth person that I normally am. I have done a good full mornings work, have caught up on my emails, sorted out my life and now am about to entertain the masses. How much more ‘not on a cloud’ is that?! As for the cultured part, well I am going to the Bolshoi Theatre tonight, as in one of the most famous and celebrated theatres in the world. I don’t think one can get any more cultured than that, huh?! Therefore I feel redeemed from my Muppet nonsense, although in saying that any more comments about which Muppet you were would be welcome…

So, yes, today is going well. Work is good, the sun is shining, I have a very busy week planned, in the countdown to Sweden it is only 24 days and I have just had a weekend to be more than happy about.

Friday night I was tired so I had decided that it was to be a night for chilling out. I rushed home from work and was very much looking forward to getting into my pyjamas, watching a video or reading and eating what was left of the mass quantities of Kinder I had purchased earlier in the week due to stress. I got home and was most definitely in wind-down mode, was sitting having dinner with my Babushka and we were having a lovely time discussing life and plans and… marriages?! Half way through my plate of ‘fried’ pasta (this Russian cuisine, it almost beats Scottish… But seriously, pity me because this fatty food is driving me to insanity) the phone rings and it was Sophia. She was meeting one of the girls from our course at the University of Bath who I don’t know that well as I never really made that much effort to get to know that many people because, well I am a bit snotty and I am put off by the masses of obnoxious people who are on my course. Anyway this girl, Katya, was coming from Voronezh to Moscow and had one night at a loose end before meeting her twin brother (who was coming from UK) and checking into a hotel. This one night she was going to stay with Sophia but then Sophia is not allowed guests in her dorm and so she was going to stay with a ‘university’ person but then at the last minute this person let her down. By this time it was too late to get into a hostel and so panic set it. There was not much else to do other than call me. So Sophia calls me and I ask my Babushka and Katya was coming to stay at mine. Of course Sophia is new to Moscow and so I had to meet them in town… I was kind of sad to be giving up my relaxing evening to go to a bar and then have to be social, as sometimes I like to be a recluse, but then a friend and a classmate in need, all that and so what was I to do?! At the same time though the conversation with my babushka had taken a funny turn and she was starting to make me feel old and spinster-like for not being married by the ripe old age of 21, eeeeek. Off to town it was then. Quick drink. Trek back home. When we got home we sat up chatting and in all honesty, getting to know one another. I am glad to have gotten to know Katya as she is a lovely girl and it is always nice to know one’s comrades. We were never moving in the same circles whilst in Bath and I think we were in two ‘minority’ groups and out-shadowed by ‘goby’ people. But don’t get me started on goby people, as I will be in a bad mood.

Saturday we (Katya, Sophia and myself) headed into town and went to a café that is decorated like a train. It was very odd, you sit in little booths and each booth has a window with a view from the Trans-Siberian which will be the closest I will get for the time being as I don’t have enough money to travel up the front of the train and apparently up the back there are no showers, and no showers for a week and me – well, we just don’t go together… Take me to the Hilton!!! Anyway the café was very funny, all the waiters were in conductor uniforms and even the toilets had train toilet handles etc… Whilst there Alexia called to say she was in Moscow with her Mum and did we want to meet up?! Katya was leaving to go meet her brother and so Sophia and I went to meet Lex and her Mum, and her Mums friend. We spilt up, and the three friends (sadly Dee had to stay in St Petersburg due to passport problems, so it was not all four of us) went shopping but ended up standing in shops talking. In the early evening we went to meet Lex’s mum and her friend for an aperitif in one of the most lux places in Moscow… Café Pushkin! I was in awe at the ornate decadence of this place and it was very sophisticated and very un-like the rest of Russia. The clientele were the well to do of Russian society, the nouveau riche and foreigners – though not tourists. Over four floors, we were sitting in the cellar, which was very intimate and cosy. We were speaking in French (naturally, as three out of five of us were Belgian) and the three tables surrounding us were also speaking French – for me, always a sign that it was a bit of a special place. I was in my element and I was so grateful for such a lovely treat. I think Sophia was too, as she was especially quiet – either that or the cheesecake really was out of this world!!!

At night though Sophia got her tongue back and she came back to mine and we sat with my babushka for a while, again discussing life/plans/marriage. My babushka is so lovely and Saturday night I learned that she has had quite a tragic past… her first husband died in an automobile accident, leaving her with a young child to look after. How horrible. How sad. How unfair life can be at times. This for me is the biggest form of tragedy, imagine to loose a loved one… It doesn’t bare thinking about. I am glad that it all worked out for her though and that she met Vitaly later on, found true love again and even married and had another child. But still… I respect my babushka even more now, and Sophia I think was overwhelmed by all the stories, in Russian I might add. Lyuda (babs) went to bed after a while and although Sophia and I had planned to watch a video, we never got round to it and just sat and chatted… until 4am. Mne nraveetsya balltat! As ever, we had so much to talk about. It was so much fun, and I am looking forward to our 12 month sleepover when we live together in Bath next year.

Needles to say, on Sunday we felt a bit worse for wear and so took it very easy having a long lie and then a relaxing breakfast. I took Sophia to Gabushka, the CD market and then we went for coffee, again! Basically all we did was chat, the whole weekend.

We said goodbye in the late afternoon and I then headed up to Olga and Tanya’s for pizza, more chatting and a movie. We watched Snatch so much conversation then followed about British culture compared to Russian culture and then versus American culture. It was just very interesting, I learned a lot of little quirks and some rude Russian phrases, which I shall not repeat here for fear of offending anyone who might speak Russian. It was, again, great fun and the perfect way to round off a weekend…

The week ahead is going to be as packed as the weekend and I love being busy as time flies. Not that I particularly want my time to fly today. Today, I love Russia. I love its tragedy, I love its history, I love the fact that old Mother Russia is such a bad-tempered bitch that she brings people together, I love the solidarity and I love the culture… Did I mention the fact that tonight I am going to the Bolshoi Theatre?! Yeah!!!!!!

2002-03-22T11:55:00.000Z

I am having one of those days where I keep on being interrupted, or where I keep on interupting myself - and normally it is for something completely irrelevant. I managed to send off some emails (po ryskie) this morning and my next task was to try and compose a blurb about a man who I have never met before. Infact I am not sure he is even a man, I just know this person is a big-wig in the office supply world. Great. It is a bit of an impossible task and may have just been given to me so as I go round in circles, just to remind me that I am indeed in Moscow. Well, now my concentration is being tested... I am thinking about Muppets and other nonsense. Oh and my phone keeps ringing, yeah but my Mum called me! Anyway, here I am again and I am again skiving off work. I am waiting for an email - everything in Russia takes time... From Russia, I have learned to be greatful and appreciative but I have also become more tolerant and patient. This may come as a suprise to some of you that I have learned to be patient as I am normally very antsy, but here I am, just sitting and not stressing any more about having to get things done asap. I have learned to be 'Russian,' have learned to chill out. Well, maybe only some of the time...

I did some 'chilling out' yesterday afternoon. What a lovely day I had. I went shopping with Jemma, and it was just so nice to get out and about and not be in the office or in the flat. (This real job business is a bit tiring.) We went to a Russian Market / ruinka you have never seen such dated things. We treckked round the stalls looking at things because it was funny. They specialise in 'anything' for 50 roubles (about 1GBP) and you can buy the most hideous and tacky underpants you will ever see. It was hilarious, it cheered me up no end after the previous days stressing. Then, we came home and went to aerobics. Man, my aerobics teacher is great, she is a complete maniac but I have so much energy because of her - it is unreal, amazing. I am hyper-active. I guess it is probably pent up energy since I have been in Russia, who knows?! I felt wonderful when I left the class and I feel wonderful now, still. Oh, oh oh after class we went to the little supermarket type place and I bought IRN BRU. Can you believe that?! In Russia! For those of you who have no clue what this is, it is basically 'Scotland in a bottle.' I hate carbonated drinks normally, but this I can have maybe once a year as it reminds me of Scotland. It is our second national drink (after Whisky) and is bright orange and filled to the brim with E-numbers, just repulsive. Full of Iron though and the taste is really something. You know Scotland is the only country in the world that does NOT have Cocacola as its best selling soft drink - we have the Bru. It's one of those weird patriotic quirks. I bought this bottle and savoured every last drop, it was so good.

Today I am The Swedish Chef, but also Little Miss Energy. I feel good, and I have joined the masses... I have decided to be brave now that most of the snow is gone. I am wearing my tan boots. This will mean nothing to you, so I shall explain...

When I was in Brussels, a city full of cobbled streets, I was out one day with girlfriends and we had been mooching around town. I was wearing my tan boots and I had been having some difficulties with them, lets say. Well, we take the metro and there were lots of metal grids and steps and then you come outside and it was cobbled paving, again... N, being quite conscientious about people comes out with "this city must be a nightmare for people with..." She pauses, trying to come up with the word maybe and so I decide to help her and interject with "Stilettos." What she had meant to say was "Wheelchairs." How stupid did I feel?! It was hilarious though and since, it has become a bit of a joke to give the stiletto update. I can be very intelligent one minute but then a complete airhead the next. Well, I am like Russia then... CLASH. Anyway the women here have been wearing spike heels since I have arrived but so far I have been terrified. I find it hard enough keeping my balance with flat, rubber soled boots, and so you can imagine me on heels on the ice - Catastophy waiting to happen! Today though I am feeling good, there is not much ice left and so the stiletto season has begun. Yep, Spring is finally here...

2002-03-22T07:49:00.000Z

So, my friend Nina is very intelligent, very bright - has her head screwed on the right way and all that. She is somebody to look up to, to admire and gaze at with starry eyes - an all-round gifted person. However, she has her moments and she sent me this quiz to do, informing me that she was a 'Gonzo' and asking what muppet I was. I diligently filled in all the questions, expecting to be maybe Miss Piggy, but I might have guessed that I would turn out as... Check this out below...

	Yuoo ere-a zee Svedeesh Cheff! Yuoo ere-a a guud cuuk, thuoogh yuoo cun't speek Ingleesh fery vell. Bork Bork Bork!
*Take the What Muppet Are You?* Quiz!**

2002-03-21T08:43:00.000Z

The shit hit the fan last night. I waited around all day for some documents to arrive, thinking they would be in English but then they finally came at 17.00 and they were in Russian. All my efforts were to be backed up by these documents and so to send them off in Russian, to a panel of English-speaking judges seemed fruitless to me. A complete waste of time. My world (momentarily) came to an end. What to do?! Much panicking, stressing out and faffing followed - I stayed at the office late, ploughed my way through some audit figures and then went home, where I promptly had a good old cry and pigged out on KINDER. Jemma then proceeded to help me (what a ***star***) before I conked out, then came to work early and finished off what I needed to do. Extra stress. Not nice. Last night I hated Russia probably more than ever, but now it is all off my chest and I am feeling a bit normal again - well, a bit.

I am going to leave the office at lunch and go and meet Jemma (who also has this afternoon off) in town. We are planning to do something fun, but first stop is to go to the travel agents. Can you believe this girl?! She is never here, only just back from UK and now she is off to Austria to go skiing. She was supposed to fly to Vienna via Prague with Czech Air, but there was a problem and for some reason her return flight never got booked. That weekend being Easter, all the flights in Europe are now booked and so she is having to fly AEROFLOT to Zurich and then take a train. Brave girl. Well, she will be experiencing Russia fully. If I weren't already flying back home with SAS (ahhhh, they are just the best) I would actually give Aeroflot a try because I want to see if it really is that bad. I am sure it is fine actually - probably a bit Russian, but I can deal with that, I'm sure it is just like everything else here whcih never ceases to amaze me. Hey, but am I still alive?! YES!!!

After the travel agents we are going to go to a few markets to pick up some vodka for Jemma's ski trip and of course 'invest' in some tacky Russian things. Jem wants to get some Russian pants - I'm not so sure if I could bring myself to do that, I am faithful to Marks & Spencer and anyway, they all seem to be a bit skimpy. Every morning on the way to work I see these pants (I am British so I mean knickers) hanging up in this kiosk window (they sell pants at metro stations here....?! Very odd. You would't see that anywhere else, to coin my favourite phrase... Only in Russia - OIR!!!) and I wouldn't actually call them pants - it is red fluff in the shape of a love heart, and a few pieces of string. Just hideous. I am not sure if Jem is buying her pants for the novelty factor, or what?! In saying this though, for a joke, I may have to invest in these. Oh, oh, oh and Vika, although I know your birthday was in January, I thought I would get you a present. A Russian plastic bag?! You can keep it for a souvenir of Russia. I shall try find my favourite Dolce & Gabanna one for you...

So, this will be my day. Oh, followed by aerobics in the lovely soviet throw back 'sport centre.' Ah, but it is fun... and how else am I supposed to work off the deep fried pasta?! Anyway, am off to do some work. Today I am doing the bare minimum before I can get the H*** out of here, or as they say here: "Mavr sdelel svoe delo, mavr modget uuhodeet."

2002-03-20T13:36:00.000Z

The postal service here in Russia isn't very reliable, I haven't received a single letter since I got here. This is quite nice in some respects as it means that I don't get any bills or junk mail, but overall it really saddens me. You see, I am one of those old romantics who just loves to get post and I mean real old fashioned post, as opposed to e-mail post. I also love to send letters, hugely long letters, filled to the brim with all kinds of nonsense. There is nothing nicer than sending a letter to someone, knowing that they will get such a surprise when they open their mail box and see that they have received a letter. I always imagine how people will react, and then how they will tackle opening the letter and where they will chose to read it etc... etc... I used to write regularly to people, I had this one particular penfriend who lived only two hours from my house, and I would sit and write to her for hours at a time. She must have done the same as it would take me ages to read her letters, although more often than none I devoured them. To this day I kept every single one of her letters in a big shoe box, tied up with ribbon. This, for me is also all part of the process of letter writing; the receiving of letters, storing them in a sacred place, and then re-reading them until you almost know the words by heart. I miss this ritual and although I am very grateful for the fact that I have email and still get to post from many people (thank you to my regulars btw) it is just not the same, and I long for the day when I get back to the UK, settle in my new flat in Bath and receive real letters again.

I am not overly nostalgic of the post-box ritual normally, I don't pine for post (although I do miss postcards, oh I just love postcards) so there is no major need to worry, but today I have had to send some things off to the UK for my work and it just dawned on me what a (for lack of a better word) faff it is to post things from Russia. I have to send a booklet of about 20 pages (a competition entry for some office products awards, compiled by *me* none the less) and normally I would pop down to the post office, stick a stamp on it and send it away, if I was feeling very self-important it would go registered, or commande, even... Here in Moscow - no such luck. I have to DHL it off, or Otprabeet cherez DHL as they say here. What a faff.

Still, it will be nice to send this thing off, get it out of my hair and focus on something else. I should go out and celebrate tonight, but then again I have a hot date with my Russian Grammar books (if anyone from uni is reading this, don't fall of your seat) to back up all the things that I have been hearing. I want to know why you say certain things some way, and certain things another. I need to know the rules. Now, I should probably already know the rules. That was what my teachers were all aiming for; that I would know text-book Russian before I came here and then I would pick up some flair and an accent when I got here. Unfortunately I work the other way round and I can't learn a language unless I have experience of it and have been inspired. So in Bath it was a miracle how I even managed to pass my exams and translations, let alone get good grades, because I just wasn't inspired. Now I am inspired though and tonight I am going to get to the bottom of this grammar business - cases, endings, prepositions, perfective/imperfective, verbs of motion and all that. It may not be the most exciting way to spend an evening but I place money on it that I will have the best time, and my mind will be absorbed. What a party animal...

Well, we can't have fun all the time. Last night I stayed at the office until quite late and then went straight into town. I took the company mini-bus, took the metro two stops, walked to another station on the perexod, took another stop and there I was at Tetralnaya. This is where I go all raving mad about the Moscow Metro system again... This is my favourite station, all marble and chandeliers. Instead of exiting near Revolution Square, Red Square or Gum I came out of the vuixod (that's exit) at the Theatre end, just by the Bolshoi Theatre and round the corner from the Dyma (Parliament.) There are many beautiful, world famous theatres there, the Kremlin is five minutes walk and the Dyma, you would think, would be very important to the Russian people. In the UK we have the Houses of Parliament and it is quite stunning, with Big Ben and a view over the River Thames. Anyway, in true Russian style (ie a bit eclectic and wacko) the Dyma is sandwiched between prominent buildings, but it faces a ... SUPERMARKET. This made me giggle as I exited the metro station last night to go and meet Sophia, Jemma and Hanna for a bite to eat in that cafe I like, Pirogi. I mean, only in Russia!!!

I am not going to rave on about Pirogi, about how nice it is again because that is a tad unfair for you all who don't get to experience Russia and its highlights, but I will say that dinner last night was great. Good food at an inexpensive price. You can't even get a Big Mac for what I had last night, and lets just say that I didn't nibble. Of course it was also nice to be out and about, looking at the Russian people, it is always entertaining and Moscow (although almost everyone is white and it leaves you wanting variety in people) is full of funny looking people. Last night was a man with Elvis hair, then a man with just BIG hair, and just so many... I can't go into it as I have waffled long enough for today, but all is well and I am going to head off now. Poka!!!

2002-03-19T10:23:00.000Z

In true British style, I am going to start off with the weather again - it is so important to me and my mood you see. Anyway, it is still sunny. In fact it is a glorious day here in Moscow and the city even looks nice, the pollution and big smoke are not so noticable. Ahhhh. Am feeling very positive and happy and ready to conquer Old Mother Russia, it must be the vitamin D - or the endorphines after my trip to aerobics last night. It was a tough class but boy do I feel virtous today?! And energetic?! You would not believe it - I couldn't walk up the escalator stairs today because there were so many people but then as I got outside I sprinted for my Marshrootka taksi, you should see the energy just beeming from me. Russia has no chance of pissing me off today, I am not going to let it. I'm not going to not smile, I am determined AND I am going to be polite and sod the lot of them.

Talking of polite, have two more stories to tell of the Moscovites and their lovely manners...

Yesterday I took the metro to work with Jemma and it was busy busy busy. It was horrible. Anyway we step onto the metro and there was just about room for us, we are pretty small, but no-one else. This did not deter these daft Russians though, and perhaps four or five more people pushed and pushed and pushed there way onto the train. In doing so they almost knocked me over and squeezed a little girl so much that she was crying. We would say "hey, look out," people would cry out "ne mesta/no space" but that wouldn't stop them and their determination not to miss that particular train, although another one would have been there in two minutes. We leave Shabolovskaya metro station and travel towards Oktyabrskaya... We get there and as we are near the doors we have to get off and let others out and then get back on the train again to go to Tretyakovskaya. This is when a flood of people spill out of the train and you have to watch not to get swept up in it, or you are carried off into the depths of the metro station. Unfortunately, I was swept up in this mass of people yesterday and this one particular woman was such a battle-axe, she didn't seem to care that I was close to being knocked over and being trampled to death, so Jemma cries out very loudly "Ostorodgeno/Attention!" and the woman never even hears it. She never payed attention and she certainly didnt let the sake of another human get in her way - her voyage is obviously more important than anything else. I hate that about Moscow; the majority of people are selfish and self-centered.

Example number two would be on Saturday. Sophia and I were heading back to her place after having walked around town. It is a good twenty minute walk from the Tyoply Stan metro station to her house, normally we would walk but we were tired and cranky and it was freezing cold, so we opted to jump on a bus instead. A bus pulls up and we climb on, luckily there are two seats close to the door so we sit down and get comfy. I then turn around and see this sweet little babushka struggling to climb onto the bus - the steps are at least 30cm high and when you are a wee old lady with many shopping bags it is a tad difficult. Natural instinct, plus remains of the Brownie/Girl Guide floating around inside me, I get up and rush over to help the old dear, basically pulling her onto the bus. She was so grateful and her face beemed of gratitude, as if no-one had ever helped her before. This smile widened when I offered her my seat, but she then refused as she had a sore knee and so told me I was sweet so I should sit down. I thus turn to sit back down in my seat and this bitch of a woman (no other word to describe her) who had watched the whole incident (had seen me get up and help the old lady, offer her my seat the works) plonks her big fat A*** down in my seat and sits gloating with her big fat, ugly face that she had won my seat. And after my good deed. I couldnt believe it, what a cheek! I was stunned. How nice it is to be in Moscow sometimes.

Anyway, will not let this bug me today as the sun is shining and life is going well...

2002-03-18T11:31:00.000Z

The sun has got his hat on, hip hip hip hooray... You get the picture, it is sunny! And warm! A whole stonking +10 degress infact, this is almost tropical by Russian standards. It was like this all weekend, sunny I mean. I am happy. It turned out to be a great weekend.

Friday I crawled home in a bad mood, not really wanting to do anything other than maybe watch a film or read a book but then I had promised Jemma that I would go out with her. I wasn't feeling too shit hot lets say, my skin was just a mess and my hair was dead and then I had a massive clothes crisis - nothing looked right and just everything was bad and my lovely babushka has managed to die all my white clothes this off grey-brown colour and the world was just f***ing awful. Bloody Russia. Eventually though, Jemma managed to get me out of the door and I am glad she did. We had a good time, giggled and ended up in this great club called Propaganda. It was fab - full of beautiful people, I spotted a few other Burberry handbags and the music inspired me to dance. It was the best thing for me to just move around and really energise myself. At 2am we were going to move on to meet some other folk but then as soon as I got outside and it was freezing cold I decided I would rather just go to bed. After much whining on my part (it really was cold and after the heat of the dance floor it seemed arctic almost) so we hailed a random. Jemma then proceeded to barter to get home for 50roubles (approx. 1GBP) but as I said it was freezing and I was cranky, so was happy to cave in and pay a more reasonable price if it meant we got into the warmth sooner than later. Jemma was in a sulk because of this (she is really proud and she'll probably hit me for this in fact) but then the driver was so cool and never shut up the whole way home, which was great practice for our Russian. He was asking us about what we liked and disliked about Russia and was just a really nice guy and was so psyched by the fact we had chosen his country.

Saturday morning I got Jemma up at 9 - she was not happy - then dragged her eight metro stops to meet Sophia. I was so excited, like a kid on Christmas morning, and the sun was shining. It was freezing but the sun was shining ;-) We found the IKEA bus and it was an old Helsinki city bus with all the old signs still on it, and adverts from like two three years ago. It was really weird - if I ignored the fact there were Russians everywhere then I could have almost been in Helsinki again, ha ha ha. Anyway then we get to IKEA and it was so clean and bright and airy, not like being in Russia at all. I could have wept with joy. Jemma had never been to an IKEA (just sailed accross the Atlantic in a yacht/worked in Kenya/flown a plane/etc.. but never experienced the joys of IKEA) so I felt that it had to be just so. We ate there (of course) but the Russians have no idea when it comes to cuisine and so it was actually a bit of a let-down, they dumped the food on my plate and it was all messy. To compensate they stuck a little Swedish flag in one of the meatballs but it was no good, the presentation means a lot and some of the taste had already disappeared because of it. It was a good job then that the shopping was good, because after such a blow, well I am a bit funny...After IKEA it was into town to show Sophia the sights - Red Sq, Kremlin etc.. - and then Sophia was having a little dinner in her appartment so I went back home with her. Jemma and I spent our first night out apart since I have been in Moscow, it was a big moment for us. Anyway, chez Sophia we ate her yummy Thai Green Curry (which was just wonderful) drank some wine and gossiped lots, just girls. GREAT ;-) I love evenings like that.

Sunday it got warm. Couldn't believe it. It was warm, like +8. Sophia called, all excited "Please can we go out and get some sun?!" She has been here less than a week and already the greyness got to her, thus imagine how I was?! I had to finish dying Jemma's hair but then we finally donned our sunnies and went out to play, ahhhhh. Yesterday was a big festival day in Moscow so it was nice to be out and about and everyone had flowers and balloons. Maslenitsa. In the late afternoon we went to eat - I had mushroom stuff then we returned to the flat via's Jemma's office (very clean and posh and just wow) to check emails and have a lesson in how to add links to my blog. I wanted to work on some Russian verbs in the evening (I know, excitement) so I stopped off at a kiosk on the way home. This was when I made a faux-pas in kiosk ettiquette. So, I wanted to get myself a tetrad/notebook but then I wanted to see what ones she had on offer so instead of waiting to see what she was going to pull out for me and show me, I stuck my head through the window and invaded her kiosk with my head. Oh no!!! It was apparently very funny to see me with legs, arms and body etc... but a disappearing head. The woman in the kiosk was pretty shocked but maybe it was embarrasment as I saw what she had stashed under the counters, uhuuuu. Anyway, in saying that I spent a whole 1.5 roubles on a notebook, the equivalent of 4p!!! Great, huh?! I love a bargain. Never ceases to make me smile.

And that was pretty much my weekend... Kind of busy, but at least the sun was shining!!!

This morning it is still smiling and I am happy. I came in and I had a load of emails, which was lovely. I have been in touch with some old friends just recently, but the person I am really glad to have gotten back in touch with is my (distant) cousin Paul. The last time we met I was a very different person and didn't take in so much of the people around me. Now I do, so it is nice for him to see me (to use a cliche) all grown up and great for me to get to know my family and see a different Paul to the one who threw up in my Mum's shoes on a train in France about ten years ago. Sorry, but that was a funny moment. Oh, and another funny thing... So, I have this site meter so I can see who reads my page, when they read it and how they came accross it. Anyway one entry which I thought was hilarious was a google/yahoo search for Burberry Rain Hats. From that they got to my site - what?! Well, it made me laugh anyway...

Today, I have also spoken to this director guy and he is very happy with the work I have done for them, phew. I was stressing about that a bit but now all is cool and I am to translate some audit papers this afternoon for this competition entry, and then bug the press office for some photos and then tadaaaa, DHL to London and finished. The office is nice and quiet as Stas has a presentation so has diassappeared somewhere, he left behind a trail of aftershave smell though - he is trying to impress the bosses maybe?! Perhaps intoxicate them would be more appropriate. He is so sweet. Anyhoe, I am going to get high sitting here! It will be a nice change though from the anti-hestamines I have been taking due to the fact that the cat is loosing his winter coat and I am all itchy and sneezy, oh and it will give me a boost for my aerobics class tonight... That, and the sun, yeah... Solnitze sveteet!!!

2002-03-15T10:12:00.000Z

I was wrong, AGAIN. Old Dirty (new addition to the name) Mother Russia was just playing with me. It is back to being winter and it is pretty cold. I did think it was too good to be true. Hey hoe, will get to wear my worm coat for another few months no doubt. I feel like I am wearing a sleeping bag when I walk down the street, or that I look like one of those glow bug toys - as if you should squeeze me and I will light up. Could also be possible with the amount of (possibly radioactive) pollution in the air that I am consuming; I may start glowing and you'll be able to power a small city from me. This morning we decided to open the office window for some fresh air, what an adventure. First of all we put on our coats and made sure we were warm for the cold air blast that would follow. Confident that we were snug enough, we opened the window... I may as well have gone up to an HGV and sucked on the exhaust pipe. It was a big mistake and the office was far more pleasant smelling before and now I am high from petrol fumes and god knows what else. Too much hassle for what?! Oh well, this is life in Russia - you just go round in circles.

Not much happening here with me really, routine is kicking in. No major ground breaking news to report other than that my weekend is looking promising (a trip to IKEA with girlfriends, need I say more?!) and the latest news from my favourite turnip is that King of Sweden won't be able to join my welcoming party in 34 days time as he apparently has prior engagements on this day, bummer. So, with not much happening here I thought I would enlighten you all a bit more on Russian Fashion, a favourite topic of mine.

I told you about the carrier bag phenomenon already, but the bag business doesn't just end there. Oh no. So you have everyone clutching their carriers (incidentally have seen my favourite D&G bag at least ten times since I last talked of it) but then as well, they have to have some other form of bag. Now, for women this is understandable, I mean handbags are just great and I intend to be buried with my Burberry handbag as it comes with me everywhere so why stop the trend at something like death?! The problem is that men here also like to have handbags. It is very odd, but I guess they feel left out or something. What they store in them is beyond me, as it certainly isn't make-up/ beauty products considering they are all a bit rough, but the sheer number of men with bags is crazy. I have seen two principal styles of bag and I guess it is what every guy should be investing in for a trip to Russia if they want to look Russian.

First of all it is the little clutch bag. You see these huge vodka slugging, sausage eating men who haven't yet discovered gyms and good health. They are huge and very much the image of cave men... until you look at their wrists and they are carrying a little clutch with such pride. It just doesn't make any sense and looks very, well, stupid, but they obviously are filled with so much pride over them and so we will let it slide. Next, though, is the laptopbag minus the laptop. We are not talking funky little satchel but you know, bog standard HP/IBM/Compaq issue. Now I admit that when I carry my computer I try to disguise it as I hate such bags, but I do understand that practicability of them and for the average person this would look reasonable - BUT only if they had a computer! Without a computer these bags hollow in the middle and look ridiculous - but again... PRIDE. I just don't comprehend, but then I am not sure if I would really want to delve into the mysteries of the Russian man, in all honesty. There is one guy though that I thought I would like to speak to, just for his sheer originality in choice of handbags. The poor guy obviously didn't want to be left out by not having a bag but couldn't get his hands on a laptop bag maybe?! Anyway, he opted for a pizza bag, as in something similar to what Dominos pizza boys strap into their little boxes on the back of their mopeds. God Honest truth, this guy was carrying a bright red pizza bag, glowing from head to toe. I severly doubt he had pizza in there as it was 10 am and he was on the metro. So just why was he carrying this bag, what was he carrying in there?! I really hope that one day the mysteries of Russian fashion will unfold...

2002-03-14T11:28:00.000Z

I think that Spring might be arriving to Moscow. Don't get me wrong it is not beautiful with flowers blooming and shiny happy people all around, it is just that the days seem to be longer and it is getting warm, well above freezing. Last night Jemma and I went on a cigarette break - well she did, I just tagged along - and there were people out and about at 22.30, wearing light jackets and... laughing! Steady on. Also, on my way to work each morning I pass a beautiful orthodox monestry with very sombre looking nuns standing outside with jars around their neck to collect money for renovation. They are there everyday and normally they are bitter looking (wouldn't you be?) but today they were smiling, I mean really smiling! It must be the start of Spring, either that or there's going to be another revolution about to happen... Either way I am happy; change would but good, but if not then at least the black stuff is disappearing and soon there won't be any ice for me to slip on. Maybe I will take up skateboarding, I am really going to miss seeing Moscow from the ground. NOT!

So yesterday I worked from home. I was going to say that I took the day off, but that would imply a holiday and something fun and well, it was hardly the most exciting of days. My body had decided to cave in on me and the little mouse that has been in my throat for the past week or so turned into a big fat, smelly rat with huge giant claws - ie, I had a sore throat. (Incidentally, I saw two big, fat smelly rats last week when I was walking home with Alexia - I just about passed out, they were within 300m of my house. Yaks yaks yaks, what a lovely place Moscow is!) Anyway so I had a sore throat and just felt sick again and Babushka thought it would be better if I stayed at home. "But but but... I have got to work, I have a lot to do." She wasn't having any of it and so cocooned in my fleecy pyjamas in bed I stayed, working on my laptop. It was great, I got so much done without the distractions of my phone/email/colleague(s) and I gave my body a chance to recover. The only way to get over a Russian illness apparently is to rest, I would be interested to see the stastics of the number of sick days the average person takes here... I normally take a few drugs and get on with it, but that is not how things go here. Anyway, fitting into Russian lifestyle I took it easy and tadaaaa, I feel so much better.

Spring is in the air, I feel better and so what to do?! I am trying out a new fitness class tonight, one slightly closer to my house (oh, only by about six metro stops) and hopefully with a more sympathetic instructor, although that is doubtful as the Soviet Union memories still loom and I think they are all re-living soviet, army-tyle training PE (Physical Education) classes or something. Oh and there is a swimming pool there too and I have decided that I can't beat them so I am going to join them, the Russians that is. You have to get a spravka (little form) to go swimming, which takes much bureaucracy and faffing around. I cannot be bothered with this so I am going to buy one - how un-law-abiding and unlike me is that?! Oh ever so slightly... very! Am excited though about going swimming in a Russian pool. It is a baccein/pool, not a banya, and so the swimming costume is obligatoire. Have still to try a Russian banya actually...

What else is happening in my oh so exciting life?! (I shouldn't knock it, I am very lucky, no I am). Oh oh oh. Sophia is here. I went to see her on Tuesday night to help her settle in and have a good old gossip face to face about some very important issues. What a stroke of luck, she lives on the orange Metro line, the same one as me. Right enough it is eight stops away and then a good 20 min walk but it is convenient as far as Moscow goes, and she has a great supermarket near her (my brother's influence, Mr Safeway) AND and IKEA! I just about wet myself with excitement on finding this one out, so you can guess where I am heading on Saturday?! What a sad person I am, can't explain it but it is a weird thing I have. I just love IKEA. How will Russian IKEA compare with the other ones across the globe that I have been to?! I guess it is like McDonalds. You find them everywhere, they are basically all the same but yet so different. McDonalds is a big thing here, and it is the ideal location for a hot date as we have witnessed with many fornicating couples sprawled over the ergonomic chairs. I guess it is just another one of those things about Russia, unexplained. Am looking forward to comparing IKEA though, oh and not to mention buying some new slippers (don't quite think I can cart a new sofa home so some slippers will do and anyway the beautiful ones I had to match my kimono with, ahemm, compliments of the Ritz Carlton Spa and Resort Bali, have given up on me) and stuffing my face with svenska köttbullar och gräddsås. Ahhhh, life is good!

2002-03-12T11:03:00.000Z

I am overly excited, agitated and very worked up. I am like a hyper-active spider. My friendly cold/sore throat is still here but that's not going to slow me down... oh try and stop me! I will not sit still, I will not calm down and if I want to hum little tunes then I am going to. Cevodnya, ya ne bydy kak muishka!

First of all (not that I am counting or anything) it is only 37 days until I go to Sweden! Yesssss.

Secondly, Jemma is coming back to Moscow today, which means that I shall have company in the flat again. Yeah someone to talk to, help in the dumping of 7000 words a day. Naturally I speak to Babushka, but it is in Russian and so sometimes I feel like I am banging my head off a brick wall, as it is just not natural for me to speak this language. Sometimes I just have to speak in English, or at least have a little help from a semi-pro in living in Russia - she has been here four months longer than me which puts her on a pedestool. Yep, so I am ochen rada that Jem is coming back to Russia.

The really exciting news though is --- Sophia, aka the pink goddess (a very good from from university) should be at London Heathrow right now (probably mooching around the STILLA make-up counter at Terminal 4 duty-free) about to board a plane to come to Moscow. That's right... Moscow! She will be living here for the next three months and will no doubt keep me very amused and entertained, and will join my battle against Old Mother Russia. One of my uber cool girlfriends will be here, eeeek. I will no longer be forced to bottle in all those words I don't know HOW to get out - she will help me to get them out, in Russian/French/English. I am VERY happy. I am not sure if I mentioned before but the only person here in Moscow at the moment, I mean a fellow comrade of the University of Bath, is a guy who wears lumberjack shirts and a T-shirt with a picture of a marmite jar on the front, all the time! Lets just say him and I could not be any different - from our ideas on life, to our dress sense, to our methods of learning a language (Russian is his second language and he treats it like Physics or something, very text-book with not much flair - whereas I speak how many languages and with Russian I am blase, I just open my mouth and I dont care it if is wrong, my mistakes will correct themselves over time) and our ways to deal with living in Russia. Him and I are very much NOT, to quote Forest Gump, like "Peas and Carrots." Anyway, I am over the moon that Sophia is coming out here, as her and I could not be more alike at times. She will understand why everytime I take the metro I cringe, as she is also incredibly vain and a tad materialistic.

It is not just about the sad look plastered on everyones face, the misery trying to come out. I am getting used to that, these Muscovites are the most miserable people I ever saw, and hey I lived in Finland where gloom and doom prevails! These days though I cringe over people's bags. I have spotted a trend, a very ODD trend.

The carrier bag. The plastic carrier bag. EVERYONE who is anyone has one. There is a hierarchy too. The really common one that I see everywhere (and it even made it on to the Russian soap opera so it must be worthy) is a variation on a Selfridges carrier bag, as in Selfridges of LONDON. So far I haven't come accross a Selfridges here (I mean I WOULD have sniffed it out) so howcome they all have Selfridges bags?! It is one of those weird phenomenon thingies in Russia. I think, though, that it may be a pride thing and that it is really special to have a *foreign* bag. Last night, for example, I was on the escalator at some metro station and the women in front of me was clutching (not just carrying, but seriously clutching) a bag from the Swedish store Kappahl - not exactly the most exciting of shops, I mean OK if you want a pair of pants or something but not something to go wooo about, huh?! Maybe I am a complete snob, as I mentioned yesterday I never realised how wealthy we all are, but still... Carrier bags?! Other non-exciting ones that I have seen and that I would put my rubbish in / take with me to the supermarket at best, but which these crazy Russians treasure and cart around Moscow's chic spots would be: Lakeland Plastics, C&A, Dutch Lady, ABB, Xerox and a good old Waitrose bag for life. My favourite though would have to be the Dolce & Gabanna bag, a lovely silvery grey plastic with blue writing. Classy. I am pretty sure that D&G, even in an outlet mall, would not give these bags to their customers as it could be a bit embarassing for their highly pretentious stylish reputation (oh I love it, I love it). So, who was it that made all these bags for these Russians to show off their wealth?! Who decided they could make so many they could even sell them at market stalls and metro stations?! Just who was this enterprising chap?! He deserves to be shot. Hmmm, maybe that's a bit harsh, but he at least deserves to be given a lesson in good taste.

I'm going to go now, put the world to right or maybe with this boundless energy I will pop down to the local market and buy myself a nice plastic, silver D&G carrier bag to cart around my things in. Oh, or a nice laptop bag. That is a different story altogether though so I shall save it for another day... Poka!

2002-03-11T09:39:00.000Z

Winter continues here in Russia and my cold/sore throat is back, oh Happy Day! I am finding it quite comforting, a friend to help me through these tough times. OK, maybe not, but it is an excuse to sit all wrapped up and be toasty warm and cosy - which I just adore. I am sitting in my office right now, with pashmina (not a scarf Malcolm... there is a huge difference) wrapped round me, keeping snug. I decided to take a break from my work and write my blog before lunch break even begins because I just cannot concentrate. There is a little man fixing my door, using a drill and making a lot of noise. I have no idea why my door needs fixing, but this is Russia so I am not going to even bother asking because I know that the answer will be strange. Anyway the little man is quite sweet really and keeps smiling and nodding, maybe he heard I was foreign?! Such a novelty!

Talking of novelty... As you will know Friday was International Womens Day / Medgoonarodnie dgenskee djen, and what a lovely day that was! The whole of Moscow was focused on women and I admit it was lovely to be admired and worshipped all day long. This is the way that life should be... in the cafe's and restaurants, on the Metro, just everywhere people were congratulating us for being women. It was great, we even got a free glass of Baileys (mmmm) AND (and this is my favourite part) people smiled at us!!! It was unbelievable, people were walking around with cheesy grins all day long. It was fantastic. Everyone was happy, even the Men were happy, or maybe it was pride they were smiling for?! As I mentioned before, Russian women are stunningly beautiful - but really who cares WHY though, the main reason was that they were genuinely smiling and happy. It was wonderful, a real pleasure to be here. The weather was also perfect for the occasion - snowing yet very sunny - a bit of a dichotomy, a bit like smiling people in... RUSSIA!

So, Thursday night Alexia came through from Yaroslavl with some friends she just met out there in the past few weeks (all Brits, all studying Russian - we are still exclusive though) and I managed to find them OK at the train station, despite there being three stations beside one another, and many sprawling platforms. They were tired and hungry after their three hour journey on a Russian train (am not going to slag that off though because I am from Britain, and ha ha ha...) so they needed food. What to eat?! ANYTHING WESTERN! I guess Yaroslavl isn't too up to date and so after three weeks they needed anything vaguely like home (I should stop complaining about Moscow...) and so we went for Pizza. It was wonderful. I hadn't eaten a pizza since I got here so I devoured it, I guess it was a nice change to the copious amounts of palmieni I normally eat. The company was great too, and it was so lovely to see a really familiar face again. Lex and I lived together in Brussels and we may as well have lived together in Bath considering how much time we spend with one another, so needless to say there was a lot of catching up to be done... Until 4am. Although tiring, I thoroughly enjoyed it - my girlfriends are one of my greatest treasures in life, and I would be completely lost without them. We had so much to talk about (the usual gossip, men, clothes, Russia) but I think above all, we were just incredibly impressed at each other - about how calm and very un-Monica like (as in Friends) we are both, considering we are in... Russia!

Friday we continued on the girly theme, striving to show old mother Russia how it's done, smiling and laughing... We wanted to go shopping and Alexia's request was to make GUM our first stop. This was when disaster struck - it was closed! Imagine that?! International womens day and the best bloody shopping place in town was closed. What a pile of crap. I mean, it was a day to celebrate International Women - surely we should have been allowed to shop?!! ARGH!!! So anyway we went to Ohxotny Ryad (vaguely western mall - but it does have a Mexx and a Benetton though) and it was open, but still what a pain that the beautiful GUM wasn't open - it is a real shopping experience; the buidling is beautiful, the scenary stunning, location just mind boggling (on Red Sq.), the people are the Martini drinkers of Moscow, but most importantly it has the best Burberry collection in town, ha ha ha. Anyway, what to do to console ourselves?! Well, what do Alexia and I enjoy most?! Ahaaaa... Eating! Off we trotted to Piragi, off Tverskaya. This is a small, intimate chain of cafe's/bookshops here in Moscow and I really like this particular one because it has big windows, (ideal for people watching), the decor is as funky as you are going to get in Russia (orange, grey and metallic theme - works well, quite stark), fantastic art-work on the walls (it changes regularly, this week was a set of photographs of drainpipes around the city, interesting) and above all else very reasonably priced, yummy food from a wide selection of styles. Now, I like Russian waitresses, they are fab, but today they were even better - they smiled sincerely, not just because they wanted a tip! Ahhh, life is good at times! Friday continued though and next stop on the fit-in-as-much-Western-stuff-before-we-go-back-to-boonies-known-as-Yaroslavl, whistlestop tour of Moscow was: STOCKMANN, that lovely Finnish Dept. store. Heaven. We were so excited to look at all the western clothes (In-wear, Sand, Vero Moda) and then when it couldn't get any better, we went to the foodhall - filled to the brim of delicacies and junkfood, sweeties and biscuits and... De Cecco Pasta, the Rolls Royce of Pasta and a sure sign of luxury. Needless to say we were almost in tears. We couldnt go back to the Russian shops, after this... West is Best! This would be our reasoning behind going to an american diner for dinner, I mean would we ever step foot in such a cheese fest normally?! It was great though, and so nice to have English Menus and be amongst English speakers, and the food... Don't get me stared, it was amazing. All in all, it was a great International Womens Day (despite lack of flowers, sob sob, don't worry though I remember everything) and I really appreicated being in such an Internaional Place with International people where I could forget about the fact I was in Russia, 3000km away from civilisation as I know it.

Saturday was the same kind of day, and the people were refreshed form their holiday so still kept on smiling. We got up early-ish and went to the CD market, where I bought five CDs and a video for the same price as I would have paid for one CD back home. I love a bargain ;-) Me gustas tu! But then I failed in my promise to myself to give up the old Fransuskie hot dog - well I had to have one with Alexia, you know?! Show her the delights. Next stop was the church that used to be a church then it was a swimming pool and now it is a church again. We went there and waited for a friend of Alexia's parents and were entertained whilst we waited by the numerous Wedding parties. I will explain about Russian Weddings at a later date... Anyway, we finally met this woman and went to her big, luxurious, newly renovated appartment which is about a ten minute walk from the Kremlin - luxe - where we jibbered in French for a while, whilst drinking tea. Oh, I had forgotten how much I love French, BELGIAN French! Actually one of the CDs which I bought was the soundtrack for "le Fabuleux Destin d'Amelie Poulain". I guess being in Russia is encouraging me to appreciate everything. This time last year I would have turned my nose up to such a concept that I would be raving about French but here I am being pro-France. Weird.

Russia is indeed teaching me to appreciate things which I do take for granted. I never realised before how disgustingly wealthy and well off we are, and how easy life is for us. Life here is a constant battle and the small things I have always had just there now mean so much to me. Sunday, for example I spent the whole day reading Cosmo. Normally I take an hour or two, flicking through, but since I hadn't had access to glossy magazines since I came here I savoured every single word, every picture, appreciating the hard work that went in to it, making it last for the whole day. It was great, I love glossy magazines.

Anyway on this note I am going to go and appreciate something, maybe get excited about the fact that Jemma comes back tomorrow AND that Sophia is coming too. La vita e bella!!!

2002-03-07T11:52:00.000Z

My new found Canadian friend Tania (who believes in unicorns with pink and purple sparkly ears incidentally) has this theory about Old Mother Russia. It's quite complex and she has been working on it for a few years now, adding new ideas and takes on life in Russia. Basically though - and I will say that this explanation does the theory no justice - she thinks that Old Mother Russia is a bitch. She is like a little old babuska trolley bus driver; if she has you in her sight she will zoom towards you and will have no qualms about running you over and squashing you down. I find this to be quite true at times. You think you are going to get somewhere here, metaphorically crossing the road, but oh no... The trolley bus comes at you at full speed and pushes you back into your place... You will live in misery, you will not be happy and most of all you will not be smug. I swear I have not been taking any hallucinogenic drugs, this is what Russia does to you. You have to have a theory for all the maddness here or it is inevitable that you will go insane. I am working on my own theories at the moment, as you may have noticed, but for the moment I am borrowing Tania's ideas...

Yesterday I had a great day at work. I had a meeting with the evasive director on the fourth floor and finally all this Merchant Paper Busniess clicked in my head. I know what I need to be doing, and I was inspired... I also had lovely emails from people and they always cheer me up, and I added a counter to my blog so I can now see who reads and when. (Maybe this will upset my ego, but I will take the risk.) Anyway, it was a good day and after work I took the company mini-bus to Ploshchad Ilyicha and then took the metro to Shabolovskaya and the whole way I travelled with our receptionist from work and we chatted in Russian. I was impressed that I managed such a feat without even thinking of it. For forty minutes we chatted about life in Moscow, compared the metro and underground systems and chatted about our families... 40 minutes of pure unadulterated Russian - that is longer than an oral exam and how stress out did I get about my Russian Oral in June?! (Not forgetting the fact that I actually turned up half an hour late, being the dappy I am I took the time down wrong - not such an intelligent thing to do.) Needless to say, when it dawned on me I felt pretty damned smug and very pleased with myself. "Yes" thought I, I can finally do this speaking Russian business without it being a headache. I was happy. I climbed up the Metro stairs and didnt collapse, again I was happy. The world was on my side, old mother Russia was letting me get close... But then of course I was walking home and I slipped on a patch of ice and landed in some messy mud stuff. Great - NOT! So there I was lying flat on my back, like a pig, just cursing Russia. I wanted to be whisked away right there and then. No-one came to my rescue, just walked straight past, and my pride was very hurt - not to mention my shoes and coat. From top of the world to under a stone in all of two seconds flat - Old Mother Russia has the last say again!!!

I am a determined little bitch though and she will not win. I am going to take on this menace and I will conquer Russia - OK that was a bit unrealistic considering I am nowhere close to meeting Putin even (Jemma and I made a bet to see who could get the closest to Putin, and I like to win...) What I should say is that I am not going to let Russia get to me. I'm going to keep that chin high and remember that I am getting out of here - first trip out is only 42 days away, to the "smiling country of Sweden," to quote Carl.

Tonight Alexia arrives and no doubt she will join me in my pledge to win over Russia. I am looking forward to going to the train station and seeing a friendly face more than anything - it is what got me out of bed this morning. I am feeling like a bit of a humbug too, because all the women have flowers sent by their Russian men (as I explained yesterday) and my desk is looking very empty and pathetic and lacking in flowers. I know, I know, I know it means nothing to focus on one day of the year but I love flowers, especially tulips and I feel very cutt off being in Russia because of it. You understand?! Nonsense... So, Alexia is my saviour today. We shall have such a nice weekend chatting and reminiscing and... laughing! I can't wait! She is also bringing a stack of glossy magazines with her - it has been so long since I picked up a glossy and I can feel my fingers itching for the pages filled with shiny, immaculate people. It never rains but it pours, huh?! As if that werent enough to keep me satisfied... On Tuesday my pink goddess of a friend Sophia (she is so cool - English/Dutch/Australian) arrives in Moscow and she will also join me in my battle to conquer Russia. We will bring laughter and happiness to the streets of Moscow. A breath of fresh air!!!

Up yours Old Mother Russia!!!

2002-03-06T11:53:00.000Z

You will all be glad to know that I am feeling back on top form today. I even managed to make it to the top of the Marksistkaya Metro escalators (walking up them) without collapsing or thinking I was going to die - all twelve stories worth. I am a goddess, a very *Happy* goddess!!!

Am happy that two more people signed my guestbook, steady on... Thank you Dad - was impressed that you read my nonsense, but hey... I am a Goddess and Sweden is cool! Ok, London is too though... Nevermind. Special mention also goes to my partner in crime Jenelle, whenever we get together we cause havoc and generally have a great time - we really know how to put the Hell into Helsinki. I am glad all is well with you over the other side of the Atlantic and check your junk mail too btw! As for my Russian name... Feninya is getting a bit dated (although still has many memories of you, me, Charlie and that dreadful bar in Westend with its Pakistani owner and copious amounts of Finnish Cider) and now I am called FIONCHIK. I guess it is a Russian term of endearment!

Getting down to business though... Friday is International Womeans Day / Medgoonarodnie dgenskee djen which means ANOTHER day off for me. Man, Russia is cool sometimes, especially with all these three day weekends... Not to mention that because it is International Womens Day (and I am about as International as you are going to get here oh and am also a woman) I am expecting lots of flowers and chocolates... Ha ha ha. Seriously though, this holiday is a big thing here and is to be taken seriously. You can place money that Russian men from West Coast to East will be stressing out over what to buy their girlfriends/wives/lovers, and how to be able to afford it... Not a good time to be looking foreign incidentally, incase the Militzia stop you for a bribe - so I am looking especially grey, mean and menacing today and tomorrow... Just incase! It is bigger than Djen Valetina for us commercialised Westerners, and if not able to be with loved ones then at least with friends...

The plan was for me to go to Yaroslavl and visit my friend Alexia (Belgian) however it has been somewhat changed and now Alexia is coming to Moscow instead, tomorrow. I am VERY excited about this - Alexia and I always have a lot of fun and I miss her a lot considering for the past two and a half years we have seen each other almost every day and now almost never. It is a time for celebration. It is going to be hard to disguise my cheesy grin... Am going out to buy a mask now! OK, maybe not, but I still have to go... I have a presentation with the missing director - 24 hours later and I finally found him!!!

2002-03-05T13:18:00.000Z

Aw aw aw aw aw. Am having a slow day today. Work - am waiting for some information to write an entry for this office supplies competition (exciting stuff, I can hardly contain myself) but this director guy has disappeared off the face of the Earth. We have this intercom system and they even made an announcement over it asking where he was, but he hasnt come to see me yet. Oh but I am easily entertained. Also on the intercom system today they were offering us the chance to invest in some caviar for a good price... OK then! Well, it keeps me on my toes anyway... Not much else doing, so I have been sending those dreaded forward questionnaires. I will admit that I am a total geek but I really like reading them. It is the vain side of me showing through. Mind you, it can be quite scary finding out what people really think, Victor (I guess he is having a slow day too) told me his first impression of me was that I had a 'dodgy jacket,' and this is me, Fiona, ie a very stylish and cool person. Gutted. I hope I redeemed myself and I am waiting to hear more answers... Yes, am so sad. Could be worse though... Stas is so bored and in need of attention he made me a paperclip necklace and has now resorted to calling the talking clock. Oh dear... Time moves fast in the Russian Paper World!

No... I guess the main reason for my slow-ness today is not due to nothing to do (I mean, really I could make some work) but just my general self. I ache all over today, a lot! Last night I went to an aerobics class, a Russian aerobics class. It was hard going and the woman was barking away like a dog and although I was convinced I should take it easy (because I am not so flex with lack of exercise for the past while) she was not having any of it. We started off with girly aerobics (easy peasy I thought) but then we added weights, and then it was time for sit-ups and push-ups and various other forms of torture, aaaaah. She stood above us and yelled at us to do more and more and more. I thought I was going to die, it was hard enough focusing on what I was doing but then I had to understand what she was screaming at me. It was pretty intense. Still, I now know without hesition my left/nalevo from my right/napravo and forward/priyamo, not to mention squat/skvat and those wonderful words... last eight/paslednee vosem. I also felt pretty good afterwards, not to mention virtuous for my wellbeing and self but for the fact I survived, language barrier and all! Am soooo cool...

Today though I dont feel so good and am a bit achy and blah - no pain no gain though, huh?!

2002-03-04T13:12:00.000Z

What a pain in the a*** I wrote this wonderfully amazing and hilariously funny entry this morning, clicked publish and pooof... it disappeared into cyber space. Damned Russian computers. So here I am again and I am going to try and re-create what I wrote, although I am sure the original would have been better.

I was walking to work this morning and it was bin day. I saw lots of scabby wagons / garbage trucks or whatever you want to call them, it's academic. Anyway, it reminded me of a story I heard so long ago and I thought I would share it...

So there was this Russian man and he had been out boozing (no real shockers there then) and drank so much vodka that he passed out. He never made it home and was infact completely oblivious to where he was until the next day when he woke up from his drunken comatose. He wakes up and it is all dark and cold and smelly, infact it is VERY smelly. There is a grinding metal noise and he can hear the chatter of... bin men?! Oh no! He is in the Rubbish truck! How did he get there?! More importantly though, how will he get out?! He bangs on the sides of the truck, but to not much avail - with all the rubbish churning around his banging is drowned out. So he screams, but no-one hears him. The metal teeth of the crusher reminds him that his time is precious, he needs to get out of there before he is chewed up too. Luckily the man has a mobile phone (God Bless Nokia) so he decides to call the emergency services. "Hello! ... Yes, I am calling because I need some help. I am insde a Garbage truck and I am going to die. Please help me. I need to get out of here ... No, this is not a joke ... I already tried banging on the sides but no-one heard ... I have no clue how I got here ... Where am I? Well I can't see outside, I honestly have no idea ... Seriously, this is NOT a joke. Please help me. Find me. Time is running out ... Hello?! Hello?!" The emergency services hang up, they don't believe him. He tries again. They hang up. He tries again. Scream, scream, Crunch. Beep beep beep beep. The garbage truck eats him alive.

Not such a nice story I admit, and a tad morbid, but this kind of crazy thing happens here in Russia. Its true, that story made it to the Moscow Times even. I think about such horrible things, when I have free time. Imagine that?! Being stuck in a garbage truck, not having a clue where you are to get help and knowing that death was impending and that time was running out?! How much would you want superman to come, right there and then?! What a horrible ending. Almost as bad as being run over by an ambulance, and it not stopping to help you. This is apparently also a common occurence here in Russia, well according to this American guy who wrote a book about his experiences of living here. That is what I have been doing this weekend mostly, btw. Just devouring this novel about life as a foreigner in Moscow, it really is close to home at the moment for me and I couldn't put it down. Not such an amazing style, but engaging nevertheless and I laughed over the same comments he made as me about the metro and the lack of smiling. It also got me pondering over the depths of Russian Soul, or Dyscha. Pretty awakening stuff, but I didn't like the author as he drank too much vodka and was a waster. Not good.

This was not my whole weekend though, you know 100% hermit is not my style...

Saturday night I went to this Austin Powers themed Party, yeah baby yeah, with Tanya and Brad (Canadian) and Olga (Russian). We got all sparkled up, the works... The party was at Olga's boyfriend Andreas (German) flat down on the River banks and I was very impressed at the preperation that had gone into it, very cool indeed. It was a great party, but also a bit strange. There were lots of different nationalities there, but the common language was not English, but Russian?! First time that ever happened to me that my mother or second tongue were not used as the main means of communication and I found it funny. There I was chatting with these Germans, not in German or English or even French... but in Russian. I guess though that it is good that we all had to use our brain, but then the Russian people when they drink dont really remember that they should speak slowly for half-wits like me to understand so eventually I got lost. At this point it was time to switch language... French maybe?! Yep, Then German, although my German is more made up than anything else... I met this really cool German guy, he knows where my parents live and so we were joking about the delights of Papenburg for a while - great fun, small world though. Then more guests arrive and the language changed to English, apart from the Russians continuing to slurr in Russian. The CRAZIEST person you will ever meet showed up, and I met a lot of crazy people before. He was Icelandic... in Russia?!!! Very surreal. He was there with a few other Icelanders and they started singing old chants, it was really beautiful, though not exactly what I expected to hear at an Austin Powers Party and I could vaguely understand what they were going on about, although as I said only vaguely. The crazy guy thought I was Swedish and wouldnt believe me otherwise. I protested my Scottishness, but it was too late, he heard me speak Swedish and that was it. I took it as a backhanded compliment, but he was energy consuming, as was the language juggling, each group was conversing in a different langauge it would seem. At 03.30 I decided it was time to leave.

Brad & Tanya came outside and hailed me a cab. Eeeeeek. I could never stand in the street and just hail a random and so I needed some help. I was still insane for doing this by myself though, was terrified. I got into this big blacked out car, like something from Star Wars and attempted to direct this guy to where I live, we finally got there after me recognising this TV tower near my house and squealing directions. Then the driver stops the car, turns round to take the money and starts saying I was a pretty little thing, then he flashed me a grin of METAL teeth. At this point I was well and truelly freaked, threw him some money, never waited for the change and RAN into the house. He was CREEEEEEEEEPY. Russia is CRAAAAZY! How can people have metal teeth?! How come there isnt such a high murder/rape rate when people just hail randoms?! Or maybe it is because we just dont hear about it... Hmmmmmmm! Well I wont be doing that again in a hurry... I went to sleep and had nightmares about being abducted.

Morbid thoughts all around then... What is Russia doing to me?! I must be going mad!

2002-03-01T11:01:00.000Z

March 1st. Three weeks earlier than most European countries, but officially it is the first day of Spring here in Russia. Er, maybe not. The last time I looked it was very much still Winter here, with some kind of nasty snow storm/flurry going on. It is still cold, the ground is covered by half mud, half ice mess and the sun isn't shining. The trees are as bare as the people down at the banya, and as for grass or spring flowers... Ha ha. These crazy Russians have got it all wrong... again!

I am a bit of a Winter person, always did prefer the cold to the heat and the prospect of beach holidays always make me a bit nervous "what, you mean I have to wear a... bikini?" I am one of those few, ahem blessed, Celtic looking people (you know the type - all natural, curly wavy hair with redish highlights, freckles and very fair skin) and no matter how much Factor-45 I slather on, I still burn and I then get very whingy and pathetic, as my sister will gleefully endevour to remind people. Anyway so Summer time is always a bit of a scary time and although small doses of sun are required, vitamin D needed to combat SAD and all that, I would say that I most definately prefer Winter - another plus point for Scandinavia, the climate. OK, in saying this though, I have just about had it up to my ears with this Moscow Winter. It is Rubbish, for lack of a better word. Snow stays nice for all of one hour then it turns brown and they don't think to clear it up like in wonderful Western functioning countries. Oh no, the snow is left to melt then it naturally freezes and it is disasterous. There are HUGE clumps of ice/mud/snow lying everywhere, can't they just take it away or dump it in the River?! I am just not enjoying the whole Winter experience and in the past month since I have been here I have had maybe only five moments of sheer joy, when taking time to look at the weather. The Russia you see on the postcards, all sparkling snow and troikas and luxurious fur is not true... It is (like most things here) brainwash material. Yes, the fur cladded people do exist, but the snow is brown and the troikas come in the form of mingy Ladas. My Romantic illusions of Russian Winters have been shattered... Roll on Spring...

This is getting a bit ridiculous... It seems like all I do at the moment is complain about Russia and the crazy Russians, which is probably a bit un-just and a tad harsh. Plus, with all these bitchy comments I am not going to make myself many friends and I am really going to offend the small number of Russian friends I do have, eg. quote Vitya from last week, upon having read my blog: "FIIIIONNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!I. AM. FUMING!!!!!!!!!!! GGGGGGGRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!! DON'T HANG OUT WITH PEASANTS!!!!!!! LONDON UNDERGROUND IS NOT EXACTLY THE REPRESENTATIVE OF EUROPE'S FASHION CITY, NOW IS IT??????? SO DON'T GO FISHING IN THE METRO!!!!!! THERE ARE MILLIONS OF INTELLIGENT, ATTRACTIVE AND NON-SMELLY RUSSIAN MEN OUT THERE!!!!!! (You just need to know where to look...) Right, I'll go drink myself silly now and shed a quiet tear...." So, I am going to redeem myself and say something nice about Moscow, afterall I did actually (when it really comes down to it) choose to come and live here. OK, so something nice about Moscow...

I LOVE the waiters here, they are great. No matter where you go, be it the most lush Western place or a dingy bar full of dodgy Russian men trying to pick you up, they are bound to have waiter service. It is such a good idea, you don't have to worry about making your way to the bar and you can sit on your a*** for the whole evening. They will bring you anything you need, and if you order cigarettes they come with the packet open and presented on a plate, more often than none with one poking out, ready for you to smoke. 100% laziness, total hassle free and the way that things should be. If you want to feel you are living it up, so to speak (which is a bit bad, but lets face it those saying they don't like being run around after are lying) then Moskva is the place to be. Sometimes you get the odd, grudging waiter but nine times out of ten they are overly friendly (especially if they detect your accent or can tell by your Non-Russian Russian, chi-ching... Tip) and run to you straight away before you even open your mouth to holler devyshki. They are very efficient, which I thoroughly appreciate. My favourite Russian Waitress obsession of all time though is the ash-tray changing. It is great, I never saw it anywhere before and they do it all the time here. I don't smoke incidentally (am passive) but I nevertheless find this funny... Every two minutes or so, even if you are only half-way through a cigarette or whatever they have to come and change the ash-tray. They come with a clean one, place it over the used one and then lift them up together. Then they put the clean one on the table, and normally wipe the table at the same time. Much better than having a bulging ash-tray full of stale butts sitting in front of you for an eternity, don't you think?! I like it anyway, it fits in with my got to be 'just-so' ideas.

I think that redeems me. I will try be more positive in future, well balanced. Point taken...

2002-02-28T11:07:00.000Z

WARNING: I am in a foul mood. It is lucky for you all that I am actually stuck out here in Moscow because I could seriously rip some heads off. Oh my goodness, old mother Russia is really getting to me today. Actually it started yesterday...

It all started with me being driven nuts by Stas and his comments about the HIV virus, just how can these Russian people be brainwashed so much?! What kind of lunatics are running this country?! What kind of a rubbish health education system is there here?! "Putin... Man, come on... educate these people." No wonder the number of people with STDs are so high here. This upset me, I mean it is just not nice... Then it was onto my Russian study group where I actually felt myself frowning all throughout it, pretty tense. Didn't stay long, felt like a wee cranky crankie, so we went home, via the aptek / pharmacy. I needed to buy something for my poor skin, this city is so dirty that my skin has errupted and I just feel 100% grimy and yaks. My hair feels bad too, and when my skin and hair feel bad then I am bad, sorry it is just a girl thing. Bloody Russian dirt, aaaaaargh. Best not get started on my shoes and trousers, their bad state from the chemicals they use to 'clean' (I put that in commas because actually nothing here really gets truelly cleaned, it is more like wafter with a brush or something) the streets...

What a relief to get home, yeah go to bed and I can wake up and feel better... No such luck. My mobile phone was kaput, my Russian SIM card works then doesn't and then does then doesn't etc... I am not the most technologically minded of people normally, but technology in Russian was just beyond me, so I asked Lyuda for some help. That was me for two hours almost. It was very sweet that she wanted to help me, but she is quite old and although her Russian is perfect (her being Russian and all) she had no idea about what I was explaining to her. I had to not only explain in Russian what was the problem, but then explain what that problem actually meant, ahhhh. It was bad... I mean, she was going to use my phone to call and couldn't grasp why there wasn't a dialing tone. I sighed, "there just isn't, you dial the number and press the button with the green phone." Ha ha, finally I met someone even more technologically incompetant than me!!! Yep, but then again I can only imagine what she actually said to the MTS Customer service people. Apparently any problem would be fixed after midnight... hey it is after 12 midday and the bloody thing still doesn't work. Maybe I should call it a day and accept that this is Russia and the phone-network (like everything else here) is a mystery. DEFEAT!

After a late night I had to drag myself out of bed to come to work and argh, again I just feel really grimy and unclean and the streets are a mess and everything is grey, brown and dirty. Now I was starting to get used to this and learned to ignore it, but today I was analysing why it had to be this way and why people just cannot go out and clean things using actual detergent. I long for cleanliness, neat freak that I am. So I get to work and feel cranky, then I encounter my next problem... My computer. It didnt work when I turned it on, and so I had to try and try and try. Do I have some electrical currents in me so that gadgets don't work?! Is someone up there having a laugh on me today?! What?! Why does nothing in Russia function properly?! I am feeling well and truely against the world today. Feel defeated by Russia. Oh well, there is only one thing for it... Cadbury's Chocolate Fingers. What can I say?! Hrieu-hrieu, grrrrrrrr.

2002-02-27T14:55:00.000Z

Forgive me if my writing style is a bit 'off' today, I have the shakes from too much caffeine and I am feeling a bit funny. I only got into the office at 14.30 (what a life) and no-one even batted an eye-lid at me coming in late. No-one asked where I was and it was a good story to tell, well it would be a good story to tell in Russian. So anyway, I am going to tell you all where I have been...

Today I had a coffee morning (yes, old before my time twin-set and pearls alert... ahhh) with a diplomat's wife. Nah, I am not a Diplomat Wife in training, fear not (although the lifestyle of arranging parties and cocktails, choosing what the cooks should make for a dinner for thirty, and the copious amounts of coffee mornings, living in luxury and travelling around the world DOES sound a tad appealing) I was just meeting a friend of my parents whose husband just so happens to be a bigwig at the British Embassy here in Moscow. Oh, it was so nice... They live in a HUGE house off the Old Arbat (famous street) with a little Russian Militzia man in box outside, with a garden, CLEAN everything, beautiful furnishings, amazing parquet floors, British plug fittings and all (like walking into UK again, probably bugged though too), overly friendly staff, wonderful tea and CAKES!!! I had a lovely time chatting about old memories of Helsinki, different people from the Embassy etc... Of course it is nice to have coffee in nice surroundings and with familiar, friendly faces, but I also learned things too. This is their second posting to Moscow and they are professionals one might say at living here, so any queries I had... I asked about hairdressers because my hair is feeling bad in this Moscow dirt and grime and really could do with some TLC, and so now I have a number for a Brazilian hairdresser who apparently works wonders! Yeah, no Russian hair styles for me ;-) I also borrowed books for teaching English to the managers here at work. Oh and Ed (their son, nice guy, speaks a bit of Russian, studies at LSE, friends with my sister more than anything) is coming on March 25th for two weeks, so I will meet him again too, which will be fab. Ahhhhhh, it was a nice morning. I am glad to share it.

The afternoon has been a bit different. Have been a bit hyper, but have had to work. Clash. Still my day is brightened by Stas who comes out with random pieces of information and looks up random English words in the dictionary, for instance he has just looked up the word jealous, er why?! Oh and he also told me that my knowledge (as a foreigner) of STD diseases, how they are transmitted etc... was appalling. I feel that my knowledge of such things is tip-top after all the articles one reads and the dreaded sex-ed classes in school one has to take, but how can I convince this man that you cannot pass on the HIV virus so VERY easily?! It is a tough lesson to drum into Russians, they have been brainwashed and their knowledge of such matters is, I guess, a bit different from us in the West. Prime example for this would be the Swimming Pool. If I want to go swminning here I have to get a spravka (little form) to prove I am HIV -ve because they don't want people to pass on things through the water. What?!!!!!!!! It is crazy.

I am going to go now, I think I might go and knock my head off a brick wall...

2002-02-26T12:31:00.000Z

Here I am back in the real world, internet and all, aftr my lovely three day weekend. I always enjoy holidays and that is a great thing about Russia - they have more holidays than most countries. This weekend it was a celebration of the "Defenders of the Fatherland," or "Djen Zascheetneeka Otchestva" as they say here, and was a jolly good excuse for a p***-up, from what I can gather. The actual holiday was Saturday, but so as not to be put out we all had Monday off. Yeah, Russia is cool. So, what did I do to remember the Soviet soldiers who fought, many of whom died, so as we didnt have to become Germans?!

Well... Saturday I woke up late. Oh it was sooo good to have a long lie and for this I was grateful, although maybe not towards those soldiers. Then I went and reserved my ticket to Sweden (the country that never really defended their land but let it be used as a gateway to Norway, ooops, that was in the past though.) So, yes... Sverige... Yeah! I'm going to fly Finnair, via Helsinki and if all goes to plan it is only 51 days from now ;-) Anyway back to Saturday... After the Travel shop we then went to a market and eeeeeek, DODGY. Ideal if you want to catch up on 1980s fashion, so if you have been in a coma and missed a few decades... Come to Russia! I couldnt help thinking that these Russians would have been better off letting the Germans win because German style is ten times better and really the clothes at Dynamo Market were a bit tacky... I am such a snob! Bad thoughts kept creeping into my mind, and then I made another patriotic faux pas. I missed the fireworks in honour of the Defenders. Actually I was pretty upset about that because I love fireworks, and it would have been especially cool to see Fireworks on Red Square. Anyway, we salvaged ourselves and did the Russian thing again (Hey, when in Rome...) and went to a bar (Jemma's choice) called Rock Vegas. It was maybe too expatty for me, of the younger generation, loads of moronic US marines etc... Kind of funny though and it naturally sold Vodka, this being Russia and all. I just cannot drink Vodka though, blah!!! Am such a lightweight that at three (and that is VERY early in Russia) I was ready to go home as I was a bit squiffy. So home and passed out and I won't tell you how little I drank as that would really make me a joke.

Sunday I went to Gorky Park and it all melted :-( Normally they freeze over the whole park and people skate around the paths and it is, for me, a very romantic idea... la la la, skating around. So no skating, we just walked down the river and we saw the soviet shuttle that never made it to space because of the breakup of USSR and it looked like something out of LEGOland. NO way would I be a Russian cosmonaut - it looked like it wouldnt get you to the supermarket let alone the bloody moon! Still Park Gorku was kind of cool and I reckon it will be nice in Summer, they have a ferris wheel and trees - bit of a rarity in Moscow. After the park we went to Tanya's (Canadian, with boyfriend Brad also Canadian) flat and ate borsh and watched Shrek, dubbed into Russian. The dubbing was terrible - one man doing the voice over for every character, and you could hear most of the English still too, I liked the way he said "Princess Fiona" though. It gave me a bit of a headache watching it, but that never stopped me, and then we all went out to watch the Canada-USA hockey game, and support CANADA, of course.... Go Canada! My cheering worked and they won... Yeah!!!!! It was a sports bar, blah, and everyone was drinking beer so I felt kind of girly and out of place with my Cranberry juice (living life on the edge again) even at two am when everyone then moved onto Vodka. Still it was a great evening, and I enjoyed the game. Never thought I would say that, but still...

Monday I felt very happy that I hadn't drank as I was fresh as a daisy, with so much energy. I wanted green trees, fresh air and lots of space to run around. This does not happen here in Moscow though, green air is fictional, it just doesnt exist in real life. So, anyway we settled for going to the Victory Park/Park Pobedu, and looking at the very impressive statues. I was really taken aback by the Holocaust remembrance statue which was a HUGE iron statue of a line of people who had been stripped of their possessions (they were heaped at the side, glasses and toys and bibles etc...) and became less distinct as people as the line went on and eventually turned into gravestones with writing in all the different ethnic languages of the Soviet Union, all the people whom Hitler and indeed Stalin had sentenced to death for not being perfect specimens or for having different beliefs. It really affected me and I was spooked by it, and eventually, all joking aside I was really very grateful to all those people who did fight for us so that we could have such good lives today. It was all a bit bleak and brought home by the weather, which was grey and chilly and windy. A very good park, but I wont be rushing back in a hurry because it is, as I said, a bit daunting.

Perhaps it was not a typical Russian weekend (in that I wasn't drunk the whole time) but I think I made the most of it and learned something at least. Oh, and long live the Defenders of the Fatherland!!!

2002-02-22T10:25:00.000Z

On the way home yesterday Stas (friendly colleague, bit of a womaniser but very funny) asked me what I thought of Russian girls. Wasn't sure what I was supposed to make of this question but decided to answer anyway. So what do I think of Russian girls?! In all honesty I hardly know any, so I cannot generalise characters. On face surface though... Russian women are (in general), stunningly pretty. I am amazed at the fact that in one city there can be so many beautiful women infact and I am not surpirsed that there are so many agencies here for Western men to come and meet these women - many would make great trophy wives and lets be honest would be much lower maintenance than spoiled Western women (I know, crude... but true, lets face it). The big problem is that although incredibly, naturally beautiful with amazing cheek bones and bla bla, these women don't really accentuate their beauty to their advantage, and in fact ruin everything by wearing masses of cheap make-up and very bad clothes. Also dental care is non-existant and the diet here is appalling... lack of vitamins and healthy nutrients leaves many looking haggered, emaciated and just not sparkling to thier fullest potential. For someone who is obsessed by glossy magazines, a real glamour girl (but not glossy you understand) with a bit of a thing for aesthetically pleasing surroundings, this is a cardinal sin. I look around and I think "what a waste." This place is crammed full of cultured, intelligent, supermodel-esque women, and half of them don't know thier capabilities. Russia offers many things, but I think is far from being the centre of the world and these women are wasted being trapped here, and also they are wasted on these Russian men. Which brings me nicely to my next point...

Russian men. Eeeeeeek. Now I know a few Russian guys and they are lovely, real sweeties who know how to treat a lady. Russian men are a bit old fashioned in that sense, in that they really want to take care of women and that never did us any harm, did it?! Dont get me started on bloody feminism... However, although on one hand very gentleman-like and always with their hands dipped in their wallets, it is also the opinion of Russian men that if you can afford to keep more than one girl in tow, then that is fine. So, you find many Russian men with girlfriends and wives, who still go out and seek other women. It is crazy. Now I am hardly the most committed of people, but I do understand that it is out there and I am a strong believer of it, happily ever after and all that (comes from parents with strong marriage)... Russian men don't seem to take commitments seriously though, and what a shame for these Russian women.

A friend of mine (who shall remain anonymous in this instance) would agree with me that Russian women are in most cases (although don't get your knickers in a twist Victor, you are an angel apart from the whole 1st semester ****ing sans ****ing incident) wasted on Russian men, because lets face it "they are a bit rough." They don't take care of themselves, are often very very ugly and badly dressed, drink far too much (on the way to work I regularly see men guzzling beer), are chauvinistic and have dreadful habits, such as chain smoking bad cigarettes and spitting ALL the time. "Maybe this is to be expected from a country descendant from Peasants..." said my friend. Who knows? I just DON'T understand it, it all seems so unequal.

2002-02-21T10:54:00.000Z

It is snowing!!! Just when we all thought Spring had arrived, when the streets were being cleared of ice and people were not wearing hats, it turns all winter wonderland again. I cannot believe it. I have my Umbrella with me at all times (am very British, huh?!) and am prepared for rain, but I forgot my hat and am thus not prepared for snow. Russia has me again. Stumped. Oh well, at least it will be beautiful, fairy-tale-esque and ever so romantic, and I can stare out of my window wistfully - the perfect setting for me to finish reading Dr Zhivago. I know, it is taking me forever to read this book, but I am busy working and playing, then in moments of peace I am working on my Russian language skills. Oh life here in Moskva is so highpaced, ha ha.

The snow, although a wonderful backdrop, is not my big news though. Oh no...

My Global Nomad days are numbered and soon I am only to be partially nomad - a traveller with roots!!! My Parents are moving back to Scotland and I will have a home again, with my old room and I can have a base for all my old things, not to mention I know the place pretty well and it will be nice to go back 'home' to somewhere I know, with people I know and all my family. I am VERY happy about this. I went through a phase for a while where I refused to visit Scotland but in my heart I guess it is my home country, my heritage and I do miss it and so am glad that my parents are heading home. Naturally, I will not be moving up to Scotland myself, eeeeeeek no, but it will be nice to go home for Christmas etc... I know what is out there, wanderlust and all that, so I will continue to travel and find my niche, but I have roots again, YEAH!!!

What else on the GN front?! Well, I spoke to Alexia (Belgian friend studying in Bath) this morning and she comes to Russia tomorrow, yikes! She was very nervous (quite rightly so, this is Russia afterall) and so I promised to go to Yaroslavl soon to go and visit her, be a familiar, friendly face and all that. Inside Russia and this vague part of world I also have plans to visit St Petersburg (naturally), Voronezh (Russian city of approx 1million people, ha and how many of you have actually heard of it?!), Riga and maybe Kiev. But of course the Wannabe Scandinavian kicks in again and in all honesty what I am very excited about at the moment is my trip to Gothenburg, in April. Sweden here I come! Carl here I come! Mental note to myself... must work extrahard to make money to buy lots of lovely Swedish things, yesssss... OK, I know I am sad, am going to go now and stop wittering on but HEJA SVERIGE!

2002-02-20T14:57:00.000Z

Staying at work late, only half doing work but really just killing time until I go meet friends later on. Two things to tell you right now, both of the kind of weird/odd/spooky variety of things...

First of all today is a palindromic day: at 8.02 pm the date will read 20: 02 20/02 2002 This is a rare occurence in time and something to go hmmmmmm about.

The second thing is about my dreaming habits. OK, well I have rather vivid dreams (something I must take from my Mum) and my mind wakes up at night, which may explain why I am always tired and slo why I like to sleep because it is fun for me. Anyway I woke up this morning, after yet another vivid dream, and I just had to tell Jemma about it because it was really very realistic. I was on a big plane (maybe a 747) and we were coming in for landing at Amsterdam airport and then the runway was running out, fast, and so the pilot continued onto a motorway (as you do) but then of course he couldnt land on the road as there were cars etc... so he took off again but then the plane was damaged and when we came to land again we had to make an emergency landing. It was really scary and we all had to sit in the brace position like the plastic looking people do on the cards. It was probably some flashback from the last time I flew into Amsterdam (at the end of Jan, from Glasgow) when the weather was so bad I thought I was going to die in a plane crash, it was very windy & rainy. However not so long ago I received an SMS on my lovely new Russian phone and I have decided that it was part flashback, part premonition. So Carl (the Swede) was travelling to Bristol today to stay with his best friend and when he arrived in London he sent me an SMS telling me it was great to be in UK again (so lucky...) but that the flight was 'rather thrilling' because the pilot had to lift off immediately after first touchdown. I was a bit spooked by this. The circumstances were not the exact same but it rang huge bells in my head nevertheless and I am amazed by the mystical-ness of it. I know, I know, I need to get out more. I am not Mystic Meg just yet....