The unexpected weekend, and nerves.

Weekends, I'm beginning to realize, never quite work out the way I've got them planned. The plan for this one, as you'll recall, was a trip to the City Bar for burgers and expats, and then some Russian practice with the one English speaker I know who's fluent in this crazy language.

What actually happened was this: Robin texted me about going to see the triumphal arch commemorating the victory over Napoleon then checking out a market. I was set on City Bar, so I suggested a City Bar/market compromise. On Saturday, we met at Chernyshevskaya metro station. Here things began to go awry. I was hoping to pick up a new umbrella while we were at the market, since mine is broken and not particularly good even if it weren't. I didn't figure it was going to rain, so I didn't take it. This was a mistake: It was raining when I got out of the metro station, and continued to rain on and off all day. I did what I could, which was basically to put on my hat, and we set off to find City Bar. It's right across from the American Consulate. (People inevitably ask if I've visited it. I haven't, and am not quite sure what I'd do there if I did. They've helped with a few emailed questions, though.) It was also closed, with no explanation. Did we just catch them on an off day? Were they closed for Thanksgiving? No telling.

With empty stomachs, we set off on what turned out to be a much longer hike to the market than I'd expected, and of course a much damper one than I'd hoped. (Not without the opportunity for a handful of pictures, and relatively pretty bits of Petersburg on the way, though.) When we finally got there--it turned out to be on Sadovaya; I've walked past it several times without particularly realizing it was there--it turned out to be rather like an indoor-outdoor less-spacious Russian Trader's World. Small stalls selling everything from clothing to cellphone accessories to locks to scooters lining a walkway no wider than my wingspan. (I'd guess it at about 5'.) The outdoor portion was a bit more spacious, but had much of the same. It also had an astonishing lack of cheap umbrellas. We thought we'd found one, but quickly discovered that the sign on the door that we couldn't translate meant something like "bulk sales only:" I couldn't buy just an umbrella; it was the whole box or nothing. Everywhere else, they tended towards being 500 rubles or so, or $17. If I could be fairly certain it was a good umbrella, I might be willing to spend that--but I can't, and most likely it'll just get left here anyway, since I've got my Gustbuster (only $30, incidentally) waiting at home. So, getting rather soaked and irritated, I called off the market expedition and we started heading for a Chinese restaurant that I knew of on Lermontov. It wasn't burgers, and it wasn't the best Chinese I've had. But it wasn't bad, and it had the peanuts I've been craving for a few weeks.

Sunday, the plan was to meet Peter and try to do some Russian practice. While I was waiting to head out, he sent me a text and suggested a slight change of plans: Zenit, St. Petersburg's football (soccer) team was playing, so we moved the time up an hour and headed for a pub to catch the game. As it happens, you cannot stick two English-speaking people in a pub in a foreign country and expect them to speak Russian to each other, because none was spoken. To be honest, I didn't particularly mind it: Things have been lonely here, as you might've noticed, and the chance to sit, drink beer, and shoot the breeze for an afternoon was nothing short of wonderful. The first pub was empty but for a trio of police watching the game and drinking what seemed to be tea. The beer on tap was a local, unfiltered brew and really quite delicious. Easy enough to drink that I put away… well, several. At some point during the game, the police wound up spread across two tables, and two of the three wound up sprawled out on those tables, out cold. The bartendress commented that she felt sorry for them and that they must be tired, or something along those lines. After the game finished up--2-1 Zenit--we went to the cafe next door; not that we particularly wanted to relocate, but the toilet was out of order at the first establishment. More beer and conversation ensued until we both decided it was time to stumble onto our respective trains and head home.

On the whole, not the weekend I was looking for, but not a bad weekend regardless.

Today I started the process of extending my visa, or perhaps only got started on starting that process. In short, I went to get my obligatory HIV test. I was dreading this a bit--it meant diving into an area where I have no vocabulary to speak of, and where I couldn't be certain that anyone would be particularly helpful. As it turned out, things were easier than I'd expected--after a bit of trouble finding the right place, I went in, paid, wound up in line behind only two people, and got it done with no trouble. The nurse/doctor/technician? who drew my blood spoke to me in a slightly odd mix of Russian and English--in particular, she kept saying 'please.' When I asked her where to pick up the results, she found it terribly amusing, and laughed all the way down the hallway and back. Not malicious, and it left me feeling a bit better--the little acts of kindness and generosity that I'm occasionally lucky enough to receive here mean far more than they might have back home.

The rest of the day found my mood slipping, however. Extending my visa has awakened a whole variety of worries to nip at me. First, extending my visa means having my passport out of my possession for several weeks. I've yet to have anyone ask to see my documents, and I presume that I'll get a spravka to explain the situation, along with photocopies. Nevertheless, I don't like being away from my passport. Plus, if I was to need to leave quickly in the interim, I'd need to track my passport down again--not an attractive prospect. Second, extending a visa is known to take a while. I was originally advised to do it at the beginning of December; the signs up in the school recommend at least a month before the expiration of the visa. I've got 8 weeks left on mine; this ought, I hope, to be sufficient. But I can't help but worry about it not being so, which would leave me in an awkward position until it got done. Finally, my visa, once extended, will expire on the day that I intend to leave the country. That means that if anything was to happen to my flight--a delay, a rescheduling, etc.--I could be in extremely dire straits, because a valid visa is needed to leave the country. This brings up the specter of the missing middle name on my reservation/e-ticket again; if I found myself at the airport facing a difficult counter agent, etc., it could be a true disaster. I can't help but be nervous about it, but I can't figure out any way to completely assure myself that nothing will happen.

Tomorrow is the Gogol Bordello concert, which I'm both looking forward to and a bit nervous about. Hopefully all will go well.

Pictures will be posted soonish; just need to free up the USB port.

A Stroll on Vasilievsky Island

Wednesday we had our first test--контрольная работа in Russian, or literally "control work." It was... well, it was pretty easy. Putting (regular) singular nouns into plural, basic conjugation in past and imperfect future tense, some simple questions (where are you from, etc.) and an easy text. I finished extremely early, and Ludmila Nikolaevna told me to go take a break for a while--until three o'clock, or about an hour and a half.

I had nothing in particular to do, and no means of amusing myself if I sat around in the little school cafe. So I decided to have a little stroll around Vasilievsky Island. First stop was a little bookstore that I get notebooks from; I stopped in long enough to not actually buy a notebook and looked around the music. They had MP3 CDs of classical music for sale, which strikes me as a lovely idea; you could easily get much of a particular composer's work onto a single CD or two, depending on the quality. Do they have these in the States?

The Apteka below is just across the street from the bookstore. After a few pictures, I headed up the street to Bol'shoi Prospekt, the first of the three major streets on the southern part of the island, and found a pedestrian mall that connected Bol'shoi and Srednii Prospekts. Lots of stores and restaurants; I'm going to have to come back and visit a few. Also a cat covered in sticky notes and a slightly whimsical statue of everyone's favorite despot, Peter I.

Further up, on Malii Prospekt, I found an antique store on the corner. I'd have loved to take pictures, but the proprietor didn't seem happy to have me in there in the first place--I think I had the look of "not going to buy anything" about me. There was a lot of of stuff there, both Tsarist and Soviet. I didn't particularly look at prices, because in fact I was not going to buy anything. Russian Customs is known to get irritable about "items of cultural or historical value," commonly known as antiques. It's not impossible to get out of the country with antiques, but you basically need, at least, to go through some extra Russian bureaucracy to be allowed to. So, while I would've loved some genuine tsarist-era stuff, there was no way I was going to mess with it. I'll be happy with a bottle of vodka when I leave the country.

This was part of a day that saw me racking up some 18,000 steps, according to my iPod's pedometer, for an estimated total of 900 calories burned. After school, I stopped in at Dom Knigi and picked up an inexpensive copy of Dickens Bleak House to help keep the boredom at bay when I'm not at class or out wandering the city or whatever. I think I may have to see how much of Dickens I can get through before it's time to head home (and presumably leave Natasha with a much larger library of English lit than she'd had previously).

Posts, you may've noticed, have been a bit sparse of late; that's in large part because there's not been a whole lot going on this week. Hockey and the above stroll were the highlights. This weekend I'm planning to venture to City Bar, the city's best known expat hangout, to see what the scene's like there. Also in the works: a possible visit to Gostiny Dvor for an umbrella that's not broken and some Russian practice with one of the English gents I met a few weeks back.

Strolling on Vasilievsky

СКА Санкт-Петербург 3; Динамо Рига 2

Питер! Питер! Питер!

Too late and I'm too tired to write an actual post right now; briefly, went to the hockey game tonight and saw SKA defeat Dynamo Riga in overtime, 3-2. Good game, and I wanna go again. The pictures mostly speak for themselves and were the best I could manage under the circumstances.

Next time I'll try to get there on time so I don't get a pom-pom to the face on my way down the stairs.

СКА Санкт-Петербург

Giant French Ship in the Bol'shaya Neva!

Since I'm only blind if I don't have my contacts in, I spotted a GIANT ship anchored in the Bol'shaya Neva on my way to school this morning, and walked down the embankment a little ways to check it out after class. There were lots of people down there taking pictures and checking her out. Turns out to be the French Mistral, an amphibious assault ship. I'm not sure why she's here, nor if she could actually make it any further up the river, but the Russian sub alongside is keeping an eye on her, I'm sure. You can read more about the ship at wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mistral_%28L9013%29

It's difficult to get a sense of scale from these pictures, but look for the little tiny people on the ship, not to mention the Russian sub, to get some idea of just how big she is.

Edited to add: Apparently Russia's looking to buy one like it from France, and get a license to build several more. http://www.nytimes.com/aponline/2009/11/23/world/AP-EU-Russia-France-Navy-Ship.html

Giant French Ship in the Bol'shaya Neva!

You know, for about ten minutes when I was uploading these, I thought I was going to try to keep my photos better organized.

People of SPb

My (Natasha's) Flat

A sunny day in SPB

The first month (or so).

You'll have to pardon this entry, it may drift towards being a bit of a rant.

I've been here in Petersburg for three weeks now. I'm settled in as much as I can be; I've got something like a routine of class and home time. It makes as good a time to sit down and reflect a little bit on things as any.

The initial panic is gone. This may not be exactly what I hoped for, and it may wind up being the loneliest nine months of my life, but, barring any emergencies, I'm here for the duration. Even if I don't get everything that I want out of it in terms of language acquisition, it'll still have been an experience, and I'll still have learned lessons.

It's not exactly what I hoped for, though. Not that I had terrible concrete expectations; I usually don't. But I didn't really appreciate just how hard it would be to be alone in a country where you don't really speak or understand the language. From ordering a meal to figuring out why the babushka doesn't like your student card, everything is a challenge at best; at worst, it's impossible. (Example: I still don't know how I'm going to get a haircut. And yeah, I'm starting to need one.) This also contributes to the loneliness: if you can't even eavesdrop on random conversations, you start to feel completely isolated in your own head.

I think I imagined that there'd be a natural peer group with the other students at my school. What I failed to understand, however, is that almost every other person there would be Chinese, that they'd all be much younger than me, and that they'd all be studying with the hopes of entering the University proper next year. Really, the key there is that they're all Chinese. They all speak the same language, they all have the same culture, and they all very naturally tend to stick together. And the language--they speak it a lot, and loudly. I sometimes think that on any given weekday I hear more Chinese than I do Russian. (The concept of putting your phone on vibrate seems also to elude them; I get treated to snippets of three or four extremely loud presumably Chinese pop songs per class, not counting when they just play music--loudly--during breaks.) If I had this to do over again, I'd have went to Robin's school, or one of the private schools here in Petersburg. But it's too late now.

Where does this leave me? More or less on my own. Somehow I've got to find folks here to talk to. The people feeding the ducks on the canals, waitresses, random strangers in shopping malls, whoever, whenever possible. I'd like to find some sort of more or less natural way to talk to folks, but I can't see what that would be right now. I may start trying to figure out when football or hockey matches are and going to hang out in bars. Bad for my liver and lungs, and maybe all I'd be able to talk about is football and hockey. But it's something. Classes, while they have their place, ultimately can't really be the central focus of my experience here. They're more like an excuse to have a visa that lasts nine months.

One of the things this whole off year was potentially offered as an opportunity for was pro bono work. For good or ill, I didn't take that path. But being here has made me appreciate a few things. First, the US. It's not perfect, and we've definitely got a lot of assholes hanging around. And we've got a political system that seems to turn our brains off and make us into football hooligans, more concerned with loyalty to our little tribe and making sure the other guy doesn't get any of the credit than with discovering rational solutions to our problems. But it's still a great place. I miss it daily. Second, I've got a new respect for people who come to another country not knowing the language--I'm thinking of recent immigrants to the States here, of course. I'm in something like their place--except that I'm basically a fairly affluent dilettante; they're actually struggling to survive in a place that's strange and hostile and isolating. Third, and this is related to the second, I've had a bit of a chance to experience what it means to be illiterate--to be surrounded all the time by symbols that you can't understand.

So I'll go on record here and say: If I can, when I get back, I'd like to get involved with helping recent immigrants learn English, or fighting adult illiteracy, or both. Hopefully the former won't require learning Spanish--if Russians can teach me Russian in Russian, surely I can teach Spanish-speakers English in English, right?

Anyway, that's it for the first month of this thing, or close enough to the first month not to make any difference. This post has been a lot of big talk; hopefully I'll be able to live up to it. It's a lot harder to actually go up to random Russians and start chatting them up than to write about it on a blog, especially when you're shy and a bit socially awkward even in your own language. (Or am I abrasive, or just a lousy conversationalist? Не знаю точно.) But that's what I think I have to do. Wish me luck--hopefully the future will be better than the past.

Сдача

Russia is a land known for vodka, harsh winters, beautiful girls, and bad customer service. Outside of one babushka at the Peter & Paul Fortress, I haven't run into the last much yet--sales clerks are approximately as grumpy here as they were in the states. It doesn't even bother me much--I'll take an honest scowl over a false smile any day.

What I fail to grasp, however, is the Russian продавец obsession with change. Observe: Tonight I went to the большие продукты (big quickie mart) up on the corner to pick up a snack and a can of Coke. (A little sweet tooth is one of the small luxuries I'm allowing myself here.) This продукты is a tiny bit cheaper than the one right next door--18.80 rub vs. 21 for a can of Coke--but they seem to be constitutionally incapable of quoting a price in whole rubles. Всегда копейки с ними. So my bill comes up to 61.30. (Funny--I just noticed they actually use a decimal point on the receipt, not a comma.) In a perfect world, I'd have had a 50 and a 10 and a one ruble coin and a 50 kopeck coin. In the real world, I had no 50 ruble note. So I handed over a 100, fully prepared to take the pocketful of change that would ensue. My 100, however, was apparently not good enough for the at the касса. So I fumbled around and came up with a 1 ruble coin and my 50 kopeck piece. This I figured would get me four ten ruble notes and a couple of ten kopeck coins. Fine. Except that this wasn't good enough either. She said одинадцать--eleven. Completely baffled by what my money lacked in negotiability as it stood, I produced a ten ruble bill and forked it over, thus bringing the total amount I'd given her to 111.50. This, apparently, was satisfactory, and I got a 50 in change.

In the states, sometimes folks will ask if you have change so that they can avoid giving you a pocketful of coins. Here, I'm convinced that If I'd only had a 100 ruble note in my wallet, I'd have walked out empty handed. Worse, she stiffed me 20 kopecks--an insignificant sum, worth about a penny right now, but if we're going to make paying a major production, then I want all of my change so that I can slow down lines everywhere by counting it out to the last kopeck.

Peculiar counter-example: Last night I went to Дом Книги and bought a book I can't read and a little pocket notebook for vocab. Price: 330 rubles. I saw a perfect chance to break a 1000, and handed over 1030 so I could get an even 700 back. The clerk refused the 30; I wound up with 670 in change.

There may be a historical explanation for all this, but it eludes me entirely.

Saint Petersburg by Night

The failed assault on Petropavlovskaya Krepost'.

The Failed Assault on Petropavlovskaya Krepost'

No time for a proper post now. Basically, I went, I showed my student card to the babushka, she wouldn't give me a discount, so, discouraged, I went home (because I was feeling cheap as well as discouraged). Best part: Natasha sympathized with me when I got home.

Сенная Площадь и Охотничья Изба (Sennaya Ploschad' & Hunters' Hut)

The plan for today was modest: eat in a proper Russian restaurant, not a western chain, then find Sennaya Ploschad' metro station and go to Peter & Paul Fortress. Not, to be entirely clear, out of a burning desire to go see Petropavlovskaya Krepost', but because it made for an excuse to go on the metro. Breakfast was that sugared toast. I can't figure out if she's using a batter with eggs, a la French toast, or if it's just butter and sugar. Whatever it is, it's tasty.

Around 12:30, I set out for the first leg: lunch. I'd passed a place called the Hunter's Hut on my way to Dickens, and the St. Petersburg In Your Pocket guide had good things to say about it, so I headed down Lermontov, opened the door, and went in. Inside it was cozy, if on the campy side, with music to match--a peculiar mix of American standards (New York, New York), country music, disco, and sappy sounding Russian tunes. I'm pretty sure I caught some Tom Jones in there, too. Sitting just inside was a Russian bear--two, really; both a taxidermied one and a bear of a man who seemed to be an owner, manager, or something. I sat down, and apparently looked Russian enough to confuse the waitress--I hadn't said anything, so she asked uncertainly whether I needed a Russian menu or English. I rather apologetically asked for the English one: I just don't know enough food words to be certain of what I'm ordering yet. Hunting Hut, as the name suggests, specializes to a certain extent in game meats. Unfortunately, they're a bit on the expensive side, so I went with that most Russian of dishes: veal stroganoff. To compliment it, I selected what turned out to be the most Soviet of beers: Жигули (Zhiguli). The waitress was friendly and attentive--she even smiled! Maybe it's just my rugged good looks. The beer arrived, and was fairly delicious--I guess I've got my Russian standby for now. A few minutes later, the meal: stroganoff, with a side of kasha and mushrooms. The stroganoff was nothing short of delicious; the mushrooms and kasha unsalted and thus a bit bland until I added a bit of salt. Price, with tip, came to about 600 rubles--not an every day sort of meal for me. Maybe not even an every weekend, sadly. But well worth it.

I did make one mistake: I should've tried to strike up a conversation with the waitress. (Or the giant bear man, I guess. Ok, probably the waitress would be a better bet.) The shyness just kicked right in, and with the lack of language skills, shut me down as certainly as a whole herd of tongue-hunting cats. Next time, I try to chat up the waitress--whether it's here at Hunting Hut or somewhere else. (Not at McDonalds, though.)

Thoroughly full, I headed down Lermontov until I figured out that I'd already passed Sadovaya. Oops. So I headed back up Lermontov and picked up Sadovaya. And then I walked down Sadovaya what felt like roughly forever until I found the biggest crowd I've yet found in Russia: Welcome to Sennaya Ploschad'. (Hay Square, wiki tells me. Today, I learned the adjective for hay, sure to come in handy sometime soon.) How to describe it… Market stalls selling CDs and DVDs, mobile phones and service, bliny. Guys with tables selling Red Bull and head massagers. People EVERYWHERE. A five story shopping mall off to the side. McDonald's. (Hi! Be seeing you again soon, McD's. ) A little band of buskers playing music by the metro. The metro, with a constant flood of people streaming in and out of it. Having this within (somewhat lengthy) walking distance makes me feel a bit less put out at being far from Nevskii and the centre.

It was about this time that I learned another lesson: Be careful what you drink when you're going out walking around. By the time I got to Sennaya, I kinda had to pee. My only choice (I thought) was one of the pay toilets. 15 rubles, or about 50 cents, for a moderately clean bathroom with a couple of urinals, a toilet, no soap in the dispenser and no paper towels. But it beats peeing yourself if you haven't got the stones to pee in the street twenty feet away from the toilets, like some guy I saw the other day. (Later, I realized that the mall had toilets. Sometimes a lesson has a precise price: in this case, fifteen rubles.)

I steeped into the crowd going into Sennaya Ploschad' metro station, then stepped over to look at a map. Yup--this is where I need to be, two stops and I'll be at Gorkovsky Station, right next to Petropavlovsky Krepost'. I fished out my token, put it in the turnstile, and got on the fastest, longest escalator I have ever been on in my life. (Not Sennaya, but to give you an idea: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VrpbYFFTkC4&feature=related) After what felt like three or four minutes, I reached the platform, quickly figured out which way was which, and hopped on the train, which came in about two or three minutes. The train wasn't quite as busy as, say, the 6 at 9 on a weekday, but it was still packed. We hit Nevskii, then took off again, picking up what felt like ludicrous speed as we went under the Neva; it made for a nice breeze from the vents in the roof of the car. We came to what seemed like it ought to be Gorkovsky, slowed down… and kept right on going to Petrogradsky. Confused, I started to leave the station, conferred with my map to see that I'd be nowhere near Petropavlovskaya Krepost', and got right back on the train heading back to Sennaya. We passed Gorkovsky again--this time we actually stopped there, but it was obviously closed. Back at Sennaya, I came out the way I came in (in other words, via extremely long escalator), popped in the shopping mall--it seems to have a casino on the top floor--and headed home.

So at the end of the day, I did ride the metro--I just didn't actually take it anywhere. I might have another go at it tomorrow--Sportivnaya Station is within walking distance of Petropavlovsky as well, and I could pick up that line from Sennaya Ploschad' as well. (Technically, from Sadovaya ul. station, but they're connected underground.) It seems to be a *really* long walk from here--I didn't time it, so I could be exaggerating. I feel like I'm going to have to figure out the surface transport systems--the buses, trams, and mashrutskoye taxis, but right now it seems impossible. The little transit map book I've got doesn't seem to help much.

Coming home, I had another too-early dinner (must talk to Natasha about these) and watched The Empire Strikes Back dubbed into Russian. Now it's Columbo in Russian till bed, unless I get a powerful itch to study.

Sphinx, Cranes, First Meal, Sennaya Ploschad'

Опоздание, а быстро

Last night I went out for a few drinks at Dickens' Pub with a few expats from the forums at redtape.ru. The pub itself was well-appointed on the inside, looking for all the world what I would expect an English pub to look like. They had a nice selection of ales, ciders, and such on tap, including my favorite, Old Speckled Hen. The food, though I didn't have any, looked and smelled delicious--when I need a moderately extravagant meal, I think I might pay them a second visit. (And maybe I'll take pictures then. I tend to be a bit shy of taking pictures of people, even when I know I should.)

The folks were as pleasant as the fare. An accountant and a lawyer, from one of the large accounting firms and formerly from one of the large law firms respectively. They shared a passion for football (the European kind) and were full of stories about Russian bureaucracy, negative inverse customer service, and the other joys of life here in Russia. For me, it was good just to sit down and have what amounted to a normal night out--to relax and talk about this somewhat crazy place I have thrown myself into.

Woke this morning to more snow. Falling more than accumulating--but I took no chances and wore my boots to class.

Class brought with it a new (to me) teacher, Elena. This was my third day in my new group (still all Chinese) and my first with Elena. Elena's favorite word, and her entire style, is быстро. The word means "quickly." Elena speaks extremely fast, and has little mercy for the poor students who don't understand a word she says. The lesson was the future tense--or at least the future imperfective, as near as I can tell. She rattled off three ways to form it, including one that uses the instrumental case--which, so far as I know, no one in class other than me knows about. The entire class seemed to consist of straining to figure out what in the world she was saying--even if she'd been going slower, I don't know that I know many of the words she was using. During the break, I could've been in China--it was all Chinese around me. Classes like this make me despair of ever learning this language.

(NB: Another word for Elena would be опоздание. She was twenty minutes late starting class, and dragged the allegedly ten minute break out to at least twenty. This irritates me to no end. I'm paying a fair amount for this; I want every minute that I've paid for.)

The flip side of this is that, on the way home, I'm walking along figuring out things that I can say in my head and feeling halfway confident about it. I just need to find some way, somewhere to practice. I dunno what it'll be--I may just start annoying people on the street, or in bars, or in Gostiny Dvor. But I feel like if I could just talk more, I'd do better--that I'd probably do as much to teach myself the language as anything that's going on in class, which is always a bit awkward with the rough Chinese accents and all.

Just had dinner--sliced up hot dogs with bow tie pasta and some ketchup. Not quite as tasty as the kasha or schi from last week. The food is one of the things that varies wildly in quality here: from blini or that tasty sugared toast in the morning to cheese on bread. (This morning the bread was toasted and the cheese was melted, at least.) The trouble is that, as near as I can tell, I'd be paying as much or more for a flat if I did it on my own, and I don't have high hopes for getting a roommate figured out considering that the pool is entirely Chinese with limited English skills. Living in the dorms is out of the question, I think--while this may not be perfect, at least I can close the door and have a little privacy.

I guess there may just be lots of cheese on bread and hot dogs in my future...

Мост Лейтенанта-Шмидта & Graffiti

Мост Лейтената-Шмидта

Graffiti

The first real snow.

So the weekend turned out to be not quite what I had envisioned, but I *did* manage to get a washcloth, and that made it a success so far as I'm concerned. The original plan, if you recall (or if you look down at the earlier posts in this very blog) was to hang out some with Robin on Saturday, then maybe go to the Hermitage and see what all the fuss is about.

As it turned out, Robin was recovering from the party she had on Friday night and was in no shape to go anywhere. So I decided I'd go out and find Sadovaya or Sennaya Ploschad' metro station, and maybe see if I could find a better grocery store somewhere in the neighborhood--one with the big 6L jugs of water. The second I found almost immediately--there's one down on Rimskogo-Korsakova, and the produkti next door has them up on top of the coolers. At about this time, my original plan to find the metro disappeared somewhere, and I just started to wander in the general direction of Nevskii, figuring I'd have McDonald's and stop at Dom Knigi to get a transport map. Sighting on St. Isaac's and mostly staying on nab. Moiki, I headed that way and eventually wound up in the ploschad behind St. Isaac's. It was in this area that I found the gorgeous building down below--the one with the statues. There was McDonald's, and it was so delicious; there was Dom Knigi, and I annoyed the clerk trying to find exact change. (NB: If you don't pay with exact change here, you wind up with a *lot* of change. There are five, two, and one ruble coins, as well as 10 and 50 kopecks. It's a minor quest of mine right now to pay with exact change everywhere I go so I can get rid of all my coinage.)

Heading back, I got a bit lost; as I've mentioned in connection with a photo, there aren't very many street signs here, so it's tricky at the best of times to figure out where you're going. Add to that a few weird intersections and it's a recipe for getting lost. After a little bit of panic, I spotted the bridge on Pisareva that I cross on the way to school and breathed a sigh of relief. Home was not far.

Sunday, it turns out, is the new Saturday. At least, it was for me, on this particular Saturday. After meeting Robin at the Bronze Horseman (really, I need to find a better place to meet people), we headed to Gostiny Dvor metro station. The metro here is fairly inexpensive--you can get an all transport (buses and metro, though not mashrutki) pass for something like 1200 rubles. It's good for 75 trips, but it expires in a month. So far, I haven't used the metro at all--I've just walked everywhere. School is something like 25 minutes away; Nevskii is a bit farther, but still walkable. I agonized a bit--I hated the idea of wasting my money on something that expired--and eventually got five tokens for 100 rubles. A little more expensive, but no expiration date. From there we stopped at a fantastic western-style grocery near Robin's place where I got my washcloth(ish things). Another stop at McD's and a visit to Gostiny Dvor (the department store, not the metro) finished the day.

Monday, to be honest, nothing of particular note happened. I went to class, I came home. The high point was getting rid of two two ruble coins and one one ruble coin buying a can of coke. No kiddin'. Plus, Natasha gave me some cookies with dinner. :D

Today I headed out and noticed that it was snowing. (Say, there's this white stuff falling out of the sky!) No big deal, I thought; not snowing hard. I walked to school, and suffered through an especially dull and frustrating day of classes. (This teacher, Elena, is a bit of a stickler for penmanship. The way I write Russian is fairly legible and, in general, close to what it supposed to be. As a grown man with his very own grey hair, I'm going to get pretty grumpy if you insist on perfect penmanship--especially since I know what my English longhand used to look like.) Classes done, I stepped out and found: OMG, снег! (Not cher, sneg.) It had snowed for real--I'd guess three or four inches at least. And of course traffic had beaten it into a lovely brown slush on and near the roads--but it still at least thought about being pretty. On the way home I passed a couple having a snow-fight (they weren't really making snowballs) and three guys who had rolled up giant snowballs. When I see things like that, it makes me feel more comfortable here--if they like to play in the snow, they can't be all that strange. The same goes for the fact that they seem to love animals--I've seen folks feeding pigeons and ducks, and TV is full of cat food commercials. Plus, there are "zoomagazini" everywhere--pet food/supply stores.

Just had dinner--fried fish, rice, and a bit of sour cream with a dill garnish. Very tasty, like most everything Natasha's cooked for me so far. (Exception: The cheese on bread breakfasts.) She keeps giving me fresh tomatoes on the side, though, and I *hate* fresh tomatoes. Nevertheless, I feel compelled to eat them because 1) I don't want to be rude, and 2) it's like the only vegetables I'm getting over here. Today she gave me more than usual--I wonder if she thinks I really like them because I keep eating them all…

After class today, I went to see… Sveta(?) and changed my group to one that's been going for about a month or so. Hopefully this'll be a little bit better--I've been bored out of my mind in my class. My pronunciation is no doubt weird and needs work, but that can be a project. I need to be doing something more than making noises and learning words I already know.

Now for a little bit of studying and then Dr. House. Might head to the produkti to see if I can break my 1000 ruble bill on something....

Today, I got a washcloth, or close enough. That makes the weekend a success.

Also, I took a few pictures.

My Entryway and Lions With Coins

My kinda touristy day.

It wasn't my plan, but I wound up just walking around today and taking pictures. Oh, and I ate at McDonald's. I've gotta figure out whether the fountain drinks are safe or not--I'm guessing they are, but I'd rather not take chances. Even w/o my Coke, though, it was a mighty delicious Big Mac. The special sauce didn't taste quite the same as it does back home, but the fries were as good as any I've had in the States.

Walking around St. Petersburg

Well, it's come to be my first weekend here. The big news: I think I actually slept through the night. At least, I don't have any recollection of lying in bed until 4 am checking my watch every half-hour or so. Could the jet lag be defeated, not to return until I go back home? We can hope. It'd be nice to avoid any more big yawns during class.

Also gone, for the most part, are the nerves. Following a friend's suggestion, I emailed the US consulate here in Petersburg and explained my concerns. They assured me that most airport personnel speak English, and told me about the "City Concierge" service. Apparently a free service of the "City Marketing Agency," it provides assistance to tourists in several languages, including English. They can help with taxis, as well as offering information on events, theatre tickets, and so on, as well as offering help in emergencies. Knowing I have something like that there if I need it does a lot to settle my mind. And I plan to make use of it for general information as well--while the point is to avoid English and work on Russian, I don't plan on letting my pitiable lack of skillz keep me from getting out and seeing what the city has to offer.

The plan for today is to meet up with Robin and get some help getting a metro ticket. Past that, my plans for the weekend are relatively modest--study, of course, but also figure out the situation with laundry and, if I am really lucky, get a washcloth. If I can manage some of those things today, tomorrow I might treat myself to a trip to the Hermitage. It's THE museum and all, and I figure it'll be good for several visits (at least) over the course of this whole crazy thing. Meanwhile, I think I'm going to walk around this neighborhood and see if I can find someplace to get a big water jug.

Pictures!

Nothing terribly exciting--just my first pictures here. I think there's a way to link picasa to this, but I haven't figured it out yet.

First Pictures of St. Petersburg

Do you like the NBA?

Today (Nov.5) was my second day of classes. (If you're wondering what happened to yesterday, Nov. 4, it was a holiday here in Russia and I spent it mostly walking around Nevskii Prospect and its environs with my Canadian friend--that helped me out a lot.) I'm still quite nervous and uncomfortable around here, though some of the initial all-out panic is starting to subside; it's now more of a background uncomfortableness and lingering concern about things like, say, doing laundry and getting my haircut, plus the omni-present money worry that I've got in over my head due to the unexpected "we need it basically all up front" payment terms. (It's not that the money's not there; it is. But this puts me on an especially tight leash until the next installment of my deferral stipend.) I still want to assure myself that I can get out if need be, but I'm working on that.

Anyway, class: I'm in a class with complete beginners--people who don't know a word of Russian. With the exception of one guy from Turkey, they're all Chinese. All of them, I learned today, are living in the dorms and all of them, as near as I can tell, are studying Russian now so that they can enroll in SPbGU proper for whatever sort of four year degree they offer. On top of that, they also all speak a little bit of English and are eager to practice it with me. While it's nice to have someone to talk to, it's a bit counterproductive. But it's the only way to really communicate right now--they make me look like some sort of Russian scholar. Interesting tidbit: The first thing they wanted to know was whether I liked the NBA. That goes for both the Chinese and the Turkish guy. Even I know about Yao Ming, but I guess Turkey has a few folks as well. It was good for a chuckle: It was literally the first thing that both the Chinese and the Turkish asked about. (Extra funny since I've got even less interest in basketball than other sports.) The Chinese invited me to dinner, which I had to decline--with the host am to think of, I don't want to leave Natasha hanging. Plus, I have no idea where the dorms actually *are.* Hopefully the offer's still open--home cooked Chinese food would be an interesting experience and not really one I expected in Russia.

Class itself is rather slow at the moment. Sounds and a very few basic words, most of which I already know. I think I'm going to look into moving up a group--if there's some people just a *little* bit more advanced than these guys, I feel like my time might be better spent there.

Tomorrow, I've *got* to start eating lunch, come hell or high water. The meals here with my host family are on the small side, and nervousness over ordering in a restaurant is not reason enough to starve. If that means I have to leave early so that I can get to the McDonald's on Vasilievsky before class because at least there I can figure out the Russianized menu items, then so be it. For now, though, I think I'm going to head over to the little produkti across the street and get myself an ice cream sandwich or something to tide me over until bed. (There really aren't many restaurants around here)