Vodka for breakfast

Oh my, what a busy two weeks.

The busyness began two Mondays ago with a trip to the local zip-wire park, Adrenalin. A bit like Go Ape, for those of you who've been, but with approximately 99% less health and safety regulations. There is something very liberating about going to a place like that without sitting through a compulsory 2 hour safety demonstration and having staff in hard hats waiting around every corner to check your ropes, remind you of the rules and stop you from doing anything too wild like fun police. Then again, as previously mentioned, I had a date in Moscow to get to so I was pretty keen to escape with my life and all limbs intact. With this in mind, I didn't go mad with my new found freedom, settling for semi sensible fun.

The very next day (muscles aching from head to toe from all the ladder climbing and zip lining) I packed up a little bag and headed to the train station. I was very excited at the prospect of meeting Dave in Moscow but with a 15 hour train journey and a half-day alone to get through before his arrival, I had to try to remain calm - 23 straight hours of intense excitement is just not sustainable. The train journey went pretty smoothly, as did finding the hostel once I'd arrived in Moscow. I then went to meet Yoanne for lunch who, by amazing coincidence, just happened to be in town that same weekend as part of her journey from Saint Petersburg on the Trans-Siberian Railway. We had a very lovely (albeit brief) catch up and before I knew it I was headed to the metro to get to the airport express train to meet Dave in arrivals. It suddenly struck me that (bar a slight detour to the hostel and to lunch) I was carrying out the exact reverse of the journey I'd made seven weeks previously when I first arrived in Russian, only this time I was happy and excited and carrying a tiny handbag instead of terrified and tired and lugging two suitcases. A very happy contrast indeed.

Moscow is a hard city to sum up - it doesn't feel all that friendly and I don't reckon it's very accessible for tourists (most of the signs on the metro are only in Russian, which is pretty mad for the capital city of the biggest country in the world) but it's certainly got its charm. On Thursday (Dave's birthday) we met up with Andrew - a Muscovite student of Tatiana's who she'd convinced to meet us for the day and show us round a bit (I swear she could sell ice to the Eskimos if she needed to). He was the perfect tour guide. Relaxed, friendly and full of little anecdotes and interesting bits of information about the major landmarks and the city's political history. In the evening Dave and I headed out for his birthday treat. We'd found a restaurant online called Cafe Pushkin, which sounded pricey but too cool to resist. We decided there's no better reason to splash out than a birthday and what a fantastic decision that turned out to be - Cafe Pushkin was definitely the highlight of our Moscow Adventure. The food was pretty sensational and the service was amazing - a very rare phenomenon in Russia indeed. We probably stood out like sore thumbs in our desperate attempts to take sneaky photos of the décor and grinning at each other like little children every time the waiter came to refill our wine glasses with a flourish.

On Friday we went to the Kremlin - the supposed highlight for any tourist in Moscow. It was certainly very impressive - beautiful in places - and holds a heck of lot of fascinating Russian history but I have to say (I hope Putin isn't reading this) that I wouldn't be inclined to recommend it all that highly as a Must See. Apparently the Armoury and the Diamond Vault are breathtaking so perhaps we would have been more impressed had we managed to see those too but we were pushed for time (and cash!) and settled on the basic entry tickets instead. On Saturday our plans were slightly scuppered by a pretty intense downfall of rain so instead of going to Gorky Park as planned we ended up at the State Tretyakov Gallery, which houses a bigger art collection that I ever thought possible to exist under one roof. Naturally (because it's becoming increasingly clear that we have no restraint whatsoever when it comes to food and drink) a lot of our time in Moscow was spent drinking beers and vodkas and cocktails and eating delicious meats and dumplings and ice cream. And suddenly it was time to head back to Ulyanovsk. The train journey was infinitely more enjoyable with a companion. We made the most of it by drinking some train beers, eating lots of train chocolate and playing train cards.

Tatiana had secured us a flat to stay in for three nights in Ulyanovsk because overnight guests are technically not allowed in the dorm. We knew that it was an empty flat and that there'd be an air-bed but otherwise we didn't know what to expect. Little did we know that the landlady and landlord were a fantastically friendly Russian couple in their 50s living on the same corridor who'd want to spend as much time with us as possible and feed us until we were fit to burst. We had vodka and pancakes and cheese and sour cream (of course) and sausage and bread and honey and fresh tomatoes and cucumber and apples and pears and grapes (all home grown). And that was just breakfast. The landlord took a very large shine to Dave, commenting more than once on how handsome he is and how well he sings and plays the guitar (after coercing him into giving a private concert in the lounge) and wanted to tell him all sorts of jokes and anecdotes. The only problem was that my translating skills were not quite up to scratch so I'd translate Yevgeny's jokes as best I could... "Something about a farmer... a Chinese farmer... working in a field..." etc etc, but once it got to the punchline I'd pull a blank and have to resort to telling Dave to just laugh and nod as if I'd understood. We got away with it but I can't help feeling a pang of guilt when I think of all those wasted punchlines. One time I lent across the table and ended up inadvertently dipping my finger in the sour cream. Without hesitation, Yevgeny grabbed my hand and licked it clean off whilst Dave looked on, powerless and bemused. And another time, when Nadia (the landlady) was out I happened to leave the room for 30 seconds, in which time Yevgeny poured a secret vodka shot for himself and Dave to hurriedly down while the women weren't watching.

It was a slightly overwhelming but highly enjoyable experience and my first real encounter of the renowned Russian hospitality that I'd read so much about but had yet to really come across first hand. It was a shame to say goodbye to them but I very much hope to see them again before I leave for good.

And then Wednesday evening arrived and it was time to head back to station to wave goodbye once more. They don't get any easier - these goodbyes - but there was a definite silver lining this time in that it was the official last goodbye of the Year Abroad. Crazy.

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Code red: the jig is up

It's been a quiet week this week, mainly due to... wait... scrap that... WHOLLY due to the fact that I suddenly realised I had about five days in which to write a 1000 word essay. Normally I am the Queen of last minute essays. My laptop and I spent many a frantic night-before-deadline together last year in order to submit a passable 2000-3000 words the next morning so the prospect of 1000 words in five days should be nothing short of a luxury. But this was no normal essay. This essay required 1000 Russian words. Russian words put together in such a way as to coherently and intelligently describe an aspect of Russian culture. If physical torture had been offered as an alternative, I would've taken my chances on the rack.

Thus, Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday AND Wednesday were reduced to an essay filled blur. I consumed much tea and spent much time on the internet getting distracted by just about anything other than relevant, essay based research, as is compulsory for students everywhere. I also managed to spend the best part of two hours cutting out little pieces of paper with the letters of the Cyrillic alphabet written on and sticking them to the corresponding key on my laptop with blue tac. Of course, once accomplished the typing became much easier so let's call it an investment rather than a last-ditch, desperate attempt at procrastination. Ahem. Then on Thursday morning I woke up, gave it one last look over (which proved absolutely futile considering I'd already forgotten what about 99% of the words meant, having relied almost entirely on my Russian dictionary to provide the content) and sent it off to Durham. And I was free once more.

On Thursday afternoon we went to a little photography museum in the town centre as part of an excursion organised by the international office. The university runs a two week summer school for foreign students so there are quite a few students from China and Germany here at the moment. The trips are technically arranged for them but we've managed to muscle in on the itinerary. I wasn't sure what to expect of the photography museum but it turned out to be a jolly delightful afternoon. First of all we were shown an exhibition detailing how they took photos in the old days (before instagram - can you even imagine). Then we were ushered into a room and shown how to make a photographic image with just a flash-light and photography paper. For this to work successfully, we were plunged into darkness and all of sudden, standing in the pitch black with a twenty strong group of international students, I was hit by a bolt of panic and terror - this is it. This is the end. This whole 'photography museum' exercise has just been an elaborate set up by the Russian government to get us into a darkened room and do away with us. Then they fired up a red lamp and I came to my senses and stopped being dramatic and made a pretty picture with the photographic paper. After that we were offered the chance to don some old-timey garb and pose for photos. As a chronic fancy dress aficionado, I was the first volunteer and I think it's safe to say I've found my new look:

On Saturday we rose bright and early and headed out with the same group to a big air show in the part of the city that lies on the other side of the Volga. I think that it was some sort of anniversary or commemoration of some sort of aviation thing or something but never quite figured out who, what or why. Suffice to say, there was a lot of plane based activities going on. Our first stop was the plane factory, which is one of the main landmarks of the city and at one point would've been the mainstay of its economy. We piled out of the mini bus - an international melting pot of German, British, Chinese and Russian students - and went to queue for tickets. Anna, one of the ladies from the international office who was with us, was speaking to the ladies at the desk for quite a while before coming over and telling us that they weren't going to let us in because they were worried we might gather sensitive information and report back to our respective nations. We all laughed but Anna remained straight-faced and assured us that it was no joke. They had genuinely turned us away. They thought we were spies. Spies. In Ulyanovsk. At this point we laughed even harder and commando-rolled our way towards the exit. I still don't know what's more worrying - the fact that they think their plane factory holds information worthy of reconnaissance, or the fact that they assume that spies come in the form of a giggling gaggle of teens and twenty-somethings. Aside from this hilarious mishap the day went smoothly and very enjoyably, culminating in a show from Russia's answer to the Red Arrows. 

And so ends another week in Ulyanovsk! The year abroad time-space continuum is continuing to work in strange and mysterious ways, with each week passing even quicker than the last. I'm sort of hoping it'll let up and slow down a bit next week though because, I don't mind telling you, I have a hot date in Moscow. Watch this space. 

BYE!

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A Russian mini-break

Over a month in Russia and I'm still yet to become a hardened vodka swiller. What's that about?!

The big news this week is that I've ventured outside of Ulyanovsk for the first time since arriving. Last weekend Andrew, Richard, Tina and I took a trip to the very nearby city of Kazan. We're slowly learning that the concept of 'very nearby' by Russian standards is an entirely different kettle of fish. Considering that they consider a 3 day train journey to be no big deal, the 4-hour marshrutka ride that we took was a veritable walk in the park. The previous afternoon we'd had a little baking session to make some delicious piroshki (otherwise known as greasy meat treats or heart attack pies) for the journey. Then it was just a case of getting up bright and early on Friday morning to head to the bus station. Upon arrival we found our hostel pretty easily and wasted absolutely no time in heading straight out to our first stop: not the magnificent Kremlin, not one of the many museums nor any of the history-steeped streets of the city. No no. Our first stop was Aqua Park. And I have no regrets. Aside from being reminded just how much fun it is to throw yourself down a vertical pipe made of plastic and full of water, I can also report that the Russians do not know how to queue. Not one bit. And I'm sure I don't need need to tell you quite how much that got our goat. We are British. And we queue. And that's that.

On Saturday we re-repressed our inner children and headed out in search of cultural enlightenment. Everyone back in Ulyanovsk had told us that the Kazan Kremlin is stunning but we still weren't fully prepared for the sight that met us as we walked up the steps out of the metro station. I thought maybe we'd accidentally missed our stop, taken a wrong turning and ended up in Disneyland.

The word Kremlin seems to have become synonymous with the one in Moscow but it does actually apply to any citadel or fortress. The Kazan Kremlin is home to a 16th-century cathedral, the palace of the President of Tatarstan and the Kul Sharif mosque. While it can't quite match up to that of the capital in terms of size (what with Moscow's five palaces and four cathedrals) I would have to say that the Kul Sharif mosque (pictured above) is probably the most beautiful building I've ever seen in real life. I nearly burned out the memory card on my camera in a desperate attempt to get a picture that came even close to doing it justice. We had a pretty perfect day wandering around, taking in the sights and basking in the sun. Then in the evening we headed out for a night on the tiles which came to a mojito-fuelled climax in an amazing bar called Cuba Libre. When worlds collide. Our Sunday activity was to head to the central stadium to watch a very conveniently timed match between Rubin Kazan and CSKA Moscow. I'd love to say that I awoke bright eyed, bushy tailed and full of football-ready energy. Suffice to say, my sunglasses were my best friend for most of the day and it was all I could do to not add to the tense atmosphere in the stands by vomiting on the head of the man in front of me. Crippling hangovers aside, it was a very interesting experience. The game itself never really got started but the spectators, the Moscow fans in particular, provided more than enough entertainment by letting off fireworks in the stands, releasing blue clouds of smoke and being generally terrifying. After the match it was time to head home and we were all very sad to have to say goodbye. Kazan gets a 10/10.

And yesterday we had to say another sad goodbye, this time to Andrew who is leaving us in search of Spanish-ier climes. He will be missed her in Ulyanovsk. To mark his departure we headed out for dinner and drinks on Thursday.When we arrived back to the hostel we decided to watch Game of Thrones in Andrew's room (on the 6th floor) so I ran upstairs to my room (on the 8th floor) to grab a drink and then nipped down to Tina's flat (on the 7th floor) before heading back to Andrew's. I rang the bell and stood waiting to be let in, clutching my carton of wine and a glass. The door opened and I was greeted by the nice young man from Palestine who lives in the flat next to mine. He seemed confused, looked at his watch and asked if I was hoping to come in for tea. I stuttered for a long time as my brain tried to process what was happening before the realisation dawned that I'd been in such a rush to get back to Game of Thrones that I'd absent-mindedly gone back up the stairs from Tina's flat, ending up back on my own floor. Of course, I couldn't begin to explain that in Russian. I muttered a hurried apology, waving my wine in his face by way of explanation and legged it. So I may be losing a friend in Andrew but I'm pretty confident that I laid some excellent groundwork for a stunning new friendship that night.

It's strange to be a Brit in Russia this week. If you haven't already seen Putin's homophobic Russia being expertly put under the spotlight by the wonderful Mr Stephen Fry, read this. I feel like a soldier who's accidentally wandered into enemy terrain but then sits down to have a cup of tea instead of giving them what for. We've signed contracts saying we won't engage in Russia's political life in any way and it's a well known fact that tourists in Russia can be arrested for promoting 'homosexual propaganda'. So can all my lawyer friends please remain on standby, just in case.

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