I spent the first week of my Russian expedition wandering
around the sunlit streets of St Petersburg with my glamorous travelling
companion, Miss Isabella Craft. Fortunately, St Petersburg is an excellent city
for wandering. The architecture is top notch and around every corner you’ll
find another stunning cathedral or landmark site. Those of you who are, like
myself, at times a little stingy, will also be delighted to hear that many
places have free student entry. So even if you’re not that keen on 18th
century Russian sculpture, you can tick off the obligatory ‘museum box’ on the
itinerary for a “cultural” city break, without spending a penny.
I had been to St Petersburg twice before, but had not
managed to see Catherine the Great’s Summer Palace. It is 25km south of the
city in a little town called Pushkin, as many things are in Russia, and really
was spectacular. The sheer size of it alone was absurdly bombastic, but the
design, colour scheme and surrounding park made the trip sufficiently worthwhile.
The last time I was in St Petersburg, I stayed in the
amusingly named ‘Crazy Duck Hostel’. My friend, James, and I were treated to a
Russian night of drinking. Essentially, we were plied with an unnecessary
amount of vodka, followed by another bottle of ‘Ivan’s Finest’ from a
late-night street seller. My memory of that night is fortunately hazy, but I do
recall chatting a lot of nonsense and crawling to bed in the early hours of
daylight. This time, we were far more sensible, perhaps the result of a woman’s
touch, who knows! A highlight was eating out at a Spanish restaurant, with
tapas and flamenco dancers for our entertainment. This time round I was also
treated to clean bed sheets and an old woman playing the banjo, both of which have
naturally contributed to an enjoyable stay.
Other evenings were spent on and around Nevskiy Prospekt. We
met our friend John, a fellow Russian student from Bristol, who invited us for
dinner at his outdated, Soviet apartment. He lives with two blokes, one of
whom, a Swedish wrestler, gently coerced me to eat some of his favourite
pickled herring. I won’t lie to you that I found it rather repulsive, but
naturally, I had to bend the truth at the time to suit the Swede’s needs and
his imposing physique. To read about John’s adventures, visit http://jamuzzle.wordpress.com/.
You’ll see pictures of his bath, which sticks through the wall and into the
hallway. Enough incentive I would have thought.
Of course, the main objective with this whole year abroad is
to become as good at Russian and Portuguese as possible. Both Izzi and I had
clearly been out of practice over the Summer, but I don’t think either of us
were prepared for just how rusty we were going to be. At passport control, a
far more serious place than its British equivalent, I spluttered several times
rather than dignify the stern, official woman with a response to her question:
“Why have you come to Russia?”
Perhaps, I could be forgiven if I had never learnt the word
‘study’ in five years of learning Russian, but given that it was written on the
piece of paper I was clutching, I think it must be simply classed as a
horrendous failure. More amusing was Izzi misunderstanding the instructions at
the check-in desk. As her bag was a little too heavy, the man asked her to put
my bag alongside hers. Izzi, however, climbed onto the scales herself amid gasps
and laughter from onlookers (mainly me). The man behind the counter was
similarly flabbergasted and to quote Izzi: “it was very embarrassing for
everyone involved.” Fortunately, I was not involved, and loved it.
Since those early days, our language has certainly improved,
but there is still a long way to go. First impressions of Tomsk are good, my
£32 a month accommodation seems to be holding up and we’ve begun to settle in.
I shall update in a few days with tales of this fine city and, presumably, my
ventures into Russia’s gastronomic sphere.
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