week one.

Over the last couple of weeks, months, or maybe even since 2010 when I chose my degree, I have been building myself up to live in Russia. Dramatic, I know, but having never visited the country (aside from 2 weeks in 2011), the news reports of terrorism, meteorites, political protests and whatnot can put you on edge.

However… I moved to Saint Petersburg last Saturday, and I’m actually a bit disappointed to say that - as of yet - everything has passed by without even a glitch. Only a week and a half ago was I telling everyone to prepare for my return in a coffin, and now, I am sat in my tiny bed below Ros’ mezzanine that is practically in space, in an apartment that can only be described as “kooky", with an elderly Russian woman who couldn’t be any nicer or more hospitable if she tried. I even survived my first night out. We went to a bar called “Mishka", which is in a basement and serves drinks like vodka, lime and wild berries - vodka being 3/4 if not more of the cocktail. Not only were the drinks tasty, but the men didn’t grab and harass you like in France. Always sign of a good night.

What’s more, the language school is great - challenging, but great. I’m speaking more Russian in a day than a whole week at University, although France got in the way and my Russian is now rusty/awful, but I manage to keep up with the intermediate group all the same.

Saint Petersburg has also welcomed me with extremely warm and open arms (it was 26 degrees last week), yet being British, I complained it was “just a little too hot" and the next day “oh I wish it was a little warmer". Ros and I have also realised that Brits talk about the weather too much, but I can’t help commenting on my experience with what a British summer attempts to reach every year.

Here’s to a just as great second week - maybe I won’t be returning in that coffin after all.

View from the end of my street - Church of Our Saviour on Spilled Blood