The Last 3,210,049 Seconds of My Life

The irony of year abroad blogging is that if you have time to write one, you probably aren't doing enough interesting things to be worth writing about. At least, that's my excuse for failing to pipe up for practically the whole of August. It's also my excuse for this blog being too long but I'll put some pictures in or something to improve that. Just at random. they won't link in with what I'm talking about. That's too much. 

To be fair, I think I was relatively busy. In fact, just taking a moment to examine the last blog, I see that I really have been. There have been three lots of friends to visit on separate weekends, with whom I have done various combinations of touristy things, gastronomic things and lying on the beach things. My budding career as a tour guide is going well. I do enjoy having people to stay and sometimes they do too so I was very happy to have those visitors. Also it makes sure I see most of the sights around the city, some of which are pretty crazy (inside of Sag Fam, Magic Fountain at Montjuic and views from hills above city stand out). I also went back to France which is why that picture has sneaked in here.

There was also the visit of the family around birthday time (21 now, so that's new) and activities were similar, only we missed out on the beach because I 100% based my ideas of which beach to go to on some information I'd read at work about the "magnificent and exclusive location of this luxury villa" without ever considering that blindly trusting an estate agency trying to sell an overpriced property might be a bad idea. Anyway, the rest of their trip was great.

Birthday can have a little separate mention, too. It might've been the first time I've been working on the day but not the last, and as the afternoon went on I gradually got more into the birthday spirit. I guess the main event was going up to a restaurant on Tibidabo Mountain. It was a really impressive location and the views were incredible but it just so happened that the owner of a local nightclub was having a private party downstairs, immediately under the restaurant, and that meant thumping bass for the first hour or so of our dinner, shaking the table and making glasses shatter and somewhat impinging the typically excellent and intellectual conversation that we almost certainly would have been having. If I changed the world "nightclub" to "fishmonger" then that would take on a much darker meaning. That wasn't funny. Never mind.

I'm now finding the problem with not writing a blog for a while - there is too much. Always like to rattle through a few of the regulars so here's what:

Other work: I've got a new job, of sorts. I'm a freelance translator from French and Russian and Spanish into English and a copywriter and proofreader now. It was going well and I was getting pretty regular work right up until I was allocated someone's university thesis to translate from French and, after quite a lot of stalling (in hindsight too much) I rejected the work on the grounds that I don't want to help people cheat. That brought a whole shitstorm (for want of a better word) down on me, as the guy called up the company, they emailed me four times in three minutes asking why I'd rejected the work and then suspended my account until next week. In the interim, a fairly straightforward (albeit large) job worth £1000 came and went. I despair. Anyway, it is generally still a good development. Also doing some boring things to do with post-uni preparations and trying to improve my chances in the fairly important matter of "getting a job".

Actual work: last blog I mentioned how they weren't paying me. They now have. That's something. Still going fine, sometimes interesting and sometimes less so. Not long left and conveniently starting to finish up some of the tasks I was set, including getting to the photo captions for the very last property yesterday and, as they happened to be of a basketball court, I couldn't resist putting some Fresh Prince references in there. They won't mind.

We went out for a work dinner last week. In fact, that provided one of the most embarrassing moments of my life, albeit not really my fault. It was a widely-discussed dinner. We had gone through it three or four times, printed invitations had been handed out in the office, it was just a known fact. So, when I got up to leave work, I naturally said: "See you all later." Never have I seen such hysterical scenes over such innocuous words. The four other interns all seemed to cringe and look incredibly disappointed, highly amused and absolutely terrified all at once. The lady nearest me started to frantically wave her arms at me like one of those guys with lights on a runway guiding a plane in to land (I swear that man doesn't actually exist but for some reason I'm sure you know what I mean). Another man started making the sort of "hush hush" expressions with his eyes and hands which made me assume it was a secret and just one bloke in the corner said "what?" in apparent confusion. Anyway, I thought it best to make good my escape and left. 

On the way home, I had genuine no idea what was going on but, agonising over it for my half hour walk, I came to the conclusion that the only possibility was that it was the birthday of the one guy who had said "what?" and he must've somehow never been in the room when we were discussing it. It seemed unlikely but it was the only option. Turning up in the evening with some trepidation and present in hand (ok, not quite) I explained myself and said how bad I felt for ruining Jorge's birthday. Similar reactions ensued. As it turned out, my guesses were some way off. Apparently the boss was in the next room at the office and the dinner out was a secret from him because he's an authoritarian figure who "wouldn't approve" of us going out together. Anyway, it broke the ice on the evening...

Sportz: I don't have much to report here but I'm going along with the things I mentioned in my last blog so may as well mention that I play 5-a-side football every week despite being genuinely terrible at it and gym on weekdays. That part is going well. I failed to start swimming but I have started trying to teach myself to planche press-up. Watch this space. In about 7 years I'll probably have mastered this bloody Advanced Frog Stand.

The flat: god more developments. 1) the flat itself is quite comfortable and only just bordered on being too warm during August. Bearable. But we have two new flatmates. There's a guy from Valencia who seems to be at work most of the time I'm home and a girl from Korea and Denmark (classic that on a year abroad you meet people of combinations like that) who is usually here. They're both very pleasant and actually the atmosphere in the flat is, I think, a lot better now. For a while we also had some other Argentinian guy visiting. Like 2 weeks. He was a character. On one evening another of my flatmates came home and found him unconscious in her bed. Controversial.

I'd better bring this to a gradual close at this point. I'm loving it out here - I feel like I have a good balance between fun and work so I feel productive but also like I'm enjoying myself. Also I don't want this blog to get all final but I have now got a plane booked in only just over two weeks and it does feel like it's all coming to a close. But that's not what I need to consider for now - for the next 15 days it's just a matter of carrying on having as much fun as I have been so far.

Adios a todos

PS I'm sorry for the entirely random selection of pictures but I'm not very pro at blogging yet...

France and Spain, Work and Play

Everything just keeps on going well. It's been closer to three weeks than two since the last blog (I think, who's counting) and everything is on the up and up. Here's what:

The French trip: I love Barca, I love the beach, I love everything I do here. However, if there's another thing I love then it's going to France and so I did exactly that on the weekend. Left on Friday, back late on Sunday / early on Monday in the event, plenty of fun packed in between. 

Outward bound: The flight is a stupidly short affair but they don't seem to have realised that. After all the preamble, it takes off and gets up to altitude, at which point the stewardspeople (you're welcome PC brigade) go around taking people's food and drink orders. Once they've managed about five rows, you start coming in to land and they have to sit back down, apologetically mumbling about how there will be no refreshments. 

The arrival: Anyway, I made it. The full family reunion in the airport and the car was cut a bit short by a football session before I even went home but we had a great game in the rain so it was worthwhile. Enjoyed parental cooking for the first time in a while, saw various people, played various sports and games, swam, lounged in the sun, went to a classic car event and so on. It was much as I remember it and, as always, a pleasure to be there.

The return: On Sunday night things took a bit of a downward turn because the late hour of my flight meant that there were no trains from the airport to town, the taxi fares are high and the line for the one bus was around 43 miles long. I still joined it, and on Monday morning I eventually made it as far as the bus. The bus then took a route going nowhere near my flat, so I had a 25 minute walk with a bag to make it home. A drink and shower later I was in bed and quickly asleep, but that was not the end of my night. Quite mysteriously, at an estimated 3.30, a then unknown man opened my room door, paused, said (in Spanish): "Noooo, my bed! and then left again. I found him on the sofa in the morning, looking worse than worse for wear. I was too asleep to care and found it funny afterwards.

The Year Abroad Written Tasks: The week before all this was the so-called "Week of the YAWT". Now that all is well, I can admit that I did extremely badly getting those done. They are 1200 words, they are the only pieces of work I have for Durham all year and yet, somehow, one was a poor but modest two days late and the other was a more substantial 8 months late. Still, feedback was ok and no harm done. It did take up my entire week though, and the words "electronic cigarette" and "homelessness" have started to lose meaning.

Job work: convinced them the two Russian girls who were translating into English should probably do the Russian stuff and that the English guy translating into Russian should probably do the English stuff and that has improved things somewhat. Well, it's a lot easier. Also convinced them to use the automatic software to do a large chunk of my most boring work so that's an improvement. It means I rattle through things fairly quickly, although some of it gets a bit repetitive. Also they haven't paid me. I hope they do, or else issues.

Sportivity: France was good for that. The gym here is proving a success and with Year Abroad Written Tasks done, I think I'll start using the swimming pool there as well. Football has become a weekly activity with (mainly) French people from Ed's office. That's it. And beach volleyball. I'm not a natural at that. Wholehearted though.

The flat: just massively upgraded my bedding and basking in the comfort as we speak. Flatmates fine, fairly scarce since my return but good company when they're about. Not too hot despite inclement conditions.

The future: friend coming this weekend, family coming next weekend for my birthday, hitch-hiking with them back to France for the next weekend, another friend coming a fortnight after that, plenty of other fun and games.

The extra: trying to find a bit of extra work, maybe of the teaching kind, maybe not, so I actually have some money during my stay.

I think that's it. This is entirely a "keep up to date" blog / check-in / diary for future ref but I'm always pleased when I can pipe up again and report that things are going well. Actually off to do some work, strangely enough, so signing off.

Hasta pronto

Golliver's Travels (Part Three)

I know, two long blogs in a day is excessive posting but the last one was behind the times. Although things have moved on a bit, I'm quite pleased that I can stick to my initial impressions; I'm in a good place.

I think in Russia I posted a blog called something like "Up and Running" after a couple of weeks and I could well have said the same again here. When I wrote (most of) that last spiel, things were not up and they were not running. I had barely moved in to my new flat, I didn't know my flatmates, I was still getting used to things at work, I didn't know my way around or where I'd be spending most of my time, I had no internet, TV, football, gym.. Now, though, things are a bit more like normal life. I'm becoming quite used to this whole situation of settling in to a new place after this year abroad. I suppose that's a good thing.

So, of those things what has changed the most? Well the flat situation is a lot more normal now. I live with an Argentinian man Mauro, an Argentinian lady called either Natasha or Natalia (it isn't a rubbish effort that I don't know - she's universally known as Nati so it could be either) and two Spanish ladies, Carla and Sarah. They're all perfectly pleasant and I probably spend more time with Mauro and Carla than the other two, mainly because they're closer to my age. TV and Internet are in, as is my newly-purchased fan (everyone knows I don't go long without one of those). As living arrangements go this is very acceptable and the only minor negative is just that knowing you have to speak Spanish at work, out and about and at home is a little bit intense.

Work fluctuates between being very entertaining and very boring depending on the day. Today, for example, I just uploaded properties to various property sites and translated descriptions and captions on photos into both English and Russian. Luckily, that's not one of the very entertaining days. Four hours of that is more than enough of that. Yesterday, par contre, was a lot more fun. Being the only English speaker and Russian speaker in the building means I do sometimes get some extra bits of work, for example mediating deals about listing properties on sites in return for X Y Z (just a little bit of Z after I've finished negotiating...) and other such things, sometimes by phone and sometimes just email. That's kind of more fun because it's people based and so on. But the best yet was yesterday morning when, for the first time, I had to speak with a genuine property buyer. I guess I'm not meant to say too much about customers but it was a lot of fun talking to someone about what luxury properties they might be able to get within their (very substantial) budget. Hopefully this will repeat itself because it does beat photo captions.

Enough on work, because in truth that's 20 out of 168 hours in my week. Afternoons are fairly rigidly gym / swim time because my membership (20 euros per month, strong) only lets me in between 3-5. After that, though, I've been fairly free to enjoy the offerings of Barcelona. That includes a bit of tapas and bar time, as well as extensive World Cup watching and plenty of visits to Ed and Sarah and Juan and co.

Weekends are quite special, almost entirely because you can just pop to the beach. Just like that. It is delightful. You take some food and drink and a ball, forget your suncream and then lounge on the sand / in the sea for several hours. Later, you return home very content and a very bright shade of red. It'll be tan by tomorrow...

In the evenings you can go to the bars and clubs of the city, which are relatively good although, as I might've mentioned before, a little tainted by the night-time grime and crime (nice rhyme) on La Rambla in the later hours. On that note, I think I accidentally accepted a drug deal the other day. A man said something to me from a dark corner, I didn't hear and being polite and English I just gave the old casual nod of the head back and then when he said "you do?" I somehow clocked what he had said before and realised that I was on the verge of taking his offer.

This blog is getting rather long but a story definitely worth telling is from our stroll the other day along Gran Via, when we witnessed a genuinely shocking situation. I'll set the scene. The central part of the street is pedestrianised and wide enough for many people. However at one point there were indeed many people and therefore only quite a small gap between two groups through which anyone faster-moving could fit. With unfortunate timing, two such faster-moving people (a jogger of around 50 and a skateboarder of around half that), heading in opposite directions, saw the gap and aimed for it. Luckily it widened enough that there was very, very minimal contact. No issue. The jogger didn't even flinch and carried on his merry way. The skateboarder wobbled slightly (because that's what skateboards do) but did not carry on his merry way in any sense. He turned, looking more angry than any man ever has, and started chasing after this innocent jogger. We immediately agreed it was going to be funny to watch and we should wait for a minute. We did wait for a minute, but it was less funny that we had hoped. Instead of remonstrating a bit like a normal person, this skater ran skated up behind the jogger, who was waiting to cross the road at a red light, and punched him, closed fisted, in the back of the head, knocking him to the floor. Once he was on the floor, he proceeded to hit him repeatedly with his board. The reaction of both the jogger and the Barcelonians was seriously impressive, though. The jogger, passers-by, people on their balconies, people in cars and so on all started shouting "policía", whistling, beeping horns and whatever they could think of to get help. I fear they may have done too much. With no exaggeration whatsoever, 4 police motorbikes, 3 police cars and one foot patrol were called in to deal with this one angry man. It may have been bad, but that was a bit of an overreaction. That's the end of the story.

Anyway, I have to say that with the hot and sunny weather, perfectly acceptable work, pleasant people around me and plenty of ways and time to enjoy myself, as well as a couple of necessary trips planned to France in August, I stick to my last line from my last blog. There aren't many better ways to spend a summer than this.

Hasta luego

The Very Latest News from a Long Way in the Past

I’m just rereading this blog before posting and it’s all a bit strange because I wrote it two weeks ago but had no internet to post it until now.       Maybe I will complement it with a second blog at the same time. Even so, here is the "latest" as it was many, many days ago:

I’ve spent years cockily going on about how lucky I am with planes and travel. I think it would be fair to say that after my journey here and thanks to French air traffic control, the balance has been well and truly restored. My 14.40 plane was postponed to 19.30 and then moved back to 15.30, meaning a dash to the airport without Gatwick Expresses because someone had jumped under one. When I arrived, security and check-in took several decades, there were a few billion people in the airport and my flight was nowhere to be seen.

At this point I treated myself to the pleasure of the airport lounge, which I really recommend. You pay £20 and you’ll eat that back in about 14 seconds with all the free food there is. Several promises of new information went unfulfilled and I started to wonder if I would actually get away at all, especially hearing that Ed, who was going to Barcelona from Manchester, had had his flight cancelled. Anyway, that was effectively home between 15.00 and 20.00, fully equipped with living room / cinema, kitchen / buffet, bathroom and sofa-bed (/ it was just a sofa but no one was stopping me). At 20.00 a gate was finally announced. I don’t know why, though. There was no plane, no staff and no point at all in being there. There was just a mass of angry, angry people. So I went back home, where they were showing Goldfinger.

                Enough, long story short the plane didn’t show up for a long, long time. Eventually we were told it would leave at 23.00. At 00.00 we were still at Gatwick. At 00.30 we were actually unbelievably in the sky. At 4.30am I was in Barcelona. With nowhere to stay. I didn’t imagine my first night in Barcelona would involve a slightly suspect cash-in-hand deal with the night guy for a room in an edge-of-town Travelodge but there you have it. Four hours later I sneaked out, without so much as a key to give back. So, after a hugely tiring, aggravating, hot-and-sticky making, stressful and difficult journey, the Barcelona adventure was finally underway.

                It’s now 1^st July (happy birthday, mum) so I have a few days to report back on. Until last night, I was living with my friend Kwei, and his friends Ed, Sarah, Juan, Andres, Jacqueline and Steve. Having that flat as a place to stay was enjoyable and useful in equal measure. Lots of barbecue food was eaten and lots of football was watched. We went out a few times and they even offered an airbed for me to sleep on. I obliged for five days, which is almost certainly outstaying my welcome. Thanks, guys.

                During this time, three things happened. The first was that I had a chance to explore Barcelona again after a few years away and I do just love it. It has everything we tend to appreciate. Every single street is tree-lined and wide and open and flanked by smart shops and cafes and terraces, every building is perfect and has impressive balcony-covered façades, there are plenty of parks, it’s sunny, there’s a laid-back atmosphere, there are incredible monuments, the seaside is never too far away... I really hardly have a bad word to say about it. It must be one of the world’s greatest cities.

                The second thing is that I was able to start work. For anyone who doesn’t know but does care, it’s in a luxury real estate firm and I basically translate all of their property descriptions, website information, keywords and whatever else from Spanish into Russian. It’s relatively difficult but I feel I’m already improving a bit. I just need to improve enough before they realise I’m totally incapable. The office is a bit hot but otherwise it’s all good - they’re friendly enough and my four hour days are an absolute treat, meaning I have a lot of free time which I can only assume I’ll use productively.

                The third thing was the flat search. That’s a big word for contacting some people from a flat-share website, visiting one and taking it but I guess that says good things about this flat. The location is good – roughly equidistant between Kwei’s pad and work – and the flatmates are fine from what I can tell so far. It’s all newly furnished and kitted out and looking good. I only arrived and unpacked last night but I’m already delighted with it.

                The settling in process always feels a bit strange but with a flat I’m happy to be living in, work I’m happy to be doing, a city I’m happy to be spending time in and friends I’m happy to be spending time with, I really can’t see many better ways that one could spend 3 summer months.

The Time I Nearly Became a Clown (and other adventures)

Although I’m currently sitting in my bedroom back in London, I feel a final blog about Petersburg is probably a good idea. First of all, the whole thing was a big success. I’ve said it before but when you leave everything you know to go to Russia for four months in winter, you don’t know quite what to expect or how well it’s going to go.

As it turned out, the Durham lot were good company, the city was mostly very impressive, the new flat worked really well, our lessons at the uni generally had a nice vibe, my own teaching proved successful / a useful learning experience and I did find weekly football and a beautiful gym to keep myself entertained. Of course, there were other parts to the stay but as a general framework goes, that ticks all the right boxes.

They didn’t come often, but there were probably a few bad bits as well and a couple of times when I spread myself a bit thin and felt overly busy. One of those times was in the last week. Obviously all of the usual things were going on but also the preparations for leaving required a bit of attention as well and at the same time I was still sorting Spanish things. And I nearly did. Kind of. The only job one of these intermediary companies said they could hook we up with was work “in events and entertainment”. Sounds ok, beggars can’t be choosers, I’ll take the interview. I had it on Tuesday evening and it went very well. 12 hours later there’s a job offer for me in my email. Excellent. Well, not quite. With it came a bit of extra information about the work and where I would be working. As it turns out, I think a main part to my work would have been giving dance classes to pensioners and dressing up as a clown for kids. And the hotel was quite brutally reviewed on tripadvisor. Suffice it to say, that offer hasn’t been accepted.

I had quite a funny time on Monday after teaching my class of programmers (English, not programming), when the boss there – a very friendly guy actually – offered to give me a lift home. Shenanigans ensued. First he’d lost his car and for quite some time couldn’t remember where he’d parked it. While we looked for it, he had an opportunity to tell me that he’d bought it only a month before and (quote) “bought a driving licence two weeks later”. That didn’t fill me with confidence. We eventually found the car. I can see why money had to pass hands for him to get a licence. I found his confused remarks quite funny (“what am I meant to do here? Am I allowed to go now?” etc) quite funny, but his tendency to allow a bit of space to open up in front of him in centre-city traffic before putting his foot down and hitting massive speeds was a bit scarier. His BMW hit 60mph in less than four seconds, he claimed. I can believe it. And then, while we were stopped at a traffic light, a guy came beside the window and handed my driver a little booklet / leaflet thing. He jokingly gave it to me and told me I’d be interested. As it turned out, it was a little book of Russian ladies to choose from, complete with an ad in the back for any budding biznismenka. I left it in the car.

I think that’s about all there is to report from the last week. Like the 16 before, it was excellent. In a way, I already miss it. To finish, a quote from a great politician and international figure of our times. “I’ll be back.”

I'm Too Hot.

That isn’t something I expected I’d be saying when I set off to come here on the 5^th February after -18 degree conditions the week before. It’s absolutely perfect now. There’s not a cloud in the sky, it’s 25 degrees, there’s a light breeze and it’s perfect sunshine from 5am to 11pm. I have no shorts. It’s given me another chance to look around the city and make sure I’ve seen all that I want to see before I leave. And leaving is starting to feel quite imminent. I mean, it isn’t long. I’m aware that this evening I’m playing football for the penultimate time here, tomorrow I’m teaching one class the first of their last three lessons and that the box of oats that I just bought might be the last I buy in Petersburg.

“How do you feel about that?” I hear you ask. Well, actually not that bad. I don’t really know why. The weather here is perfect, my quality of life is very pleasant, the people I’m with are good company, I’m playing my sport and having fun, I’m keeping up to date with work and I’m liking teaching. There isn’t really anything that I’m not enjoying. It just feels like time to go home. I’m not wishing away the last two weeks – in fact I’m really keen to make the most of them. Even so, I’m looking forward to seeing England and everything in it again in 11 days’ time.

And then what? Well, I’m spending a large proportion of my time job-seeking for Spain this summer. It’s a bit of a nightmare and I’m an absolute idiot for leaving it so late. It’s definitely taught me a lesson in organisation. In fact, I’m finding it quite funny that I’m writing all these cover letters talking about my good organisational skills and efficient approach when actually I’m in a blind panic due to a lack of those things. Anyway, I’m not going to have too many regrets. Presumably I will find something / one of my applications will be successful and besides, there’s often a lot of pressure to prepare for the future but there’s not that much point if when you get there, all you’re going to think about is the next bit of future. I’m glad that I’ve concentrated on the Russia bit while I’ve been here and that it has been a success. That was excessively philosophical.

A quick round-up of things that have happened here, although as usual it’s more or less following my routine. We had an extra football session on Thursday and we were able to play outdoors, which was great. I taught Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday evening in quite a casual way, mainly practising stuff through games. I had an interview thing to find a Spain job on Tuesday, at which point unfortunately the ceiling of the flat started to rise up and down about 6 inches at a time for no apparent reason except to be distracting (it’s soft, I should add, but it was still weird). The overhead light in the kitchen set on fire when I boiled the kettle and some electricians came round, looked confused, broke it more, fixed it a bit, broke it again and then replaced it. I don’t know what else. All I know is that everything continues to go very well.

Enough. I think I’m going to try translating my blogs into my other languages because it was suggested by one of our teachers and I thought it was quite a good idea. I’m not sure if I’ll then upload them or not. If you think my next blog is written in strangely childish and simple English then you’ll know that I’ve had difficulty doing it. For now, it’s time to profiter bien from my last few days here.

A Picture Says 1000 Words (but I wrote the 1000 words anyway just because)

I slightly forgot to blog for a bit. It's been the best part of a month and, in that time, I'd say quite a lot has happened. At least, I feel like I've been incredibly busy but as it's with almost exclusively enjoyable things I really won't complain.

I guess the main thing to mention is the visit of the family. As my parents are more or less the only two readers of this blog (hi guys) this is effectively telling them (you) about things that they (you) already know they (you) did. I'm going to stop doing that now.

Anyway, we were proper tourists for a few days. The weather was absolutely perfect every day (as it has been all this week as well - up to 23 degrees and literally haven't seen a cloud). We went to cathedrals and museums and monuments and suchlike, the highlights probably being the Hermitage, Russian Museum, Bronze Horseman, Peter and Paul Fortress, Church of Our Saviour on Blood, Kazan Cathedral, Museum of Political History, Museum of Soviet Arcade Games and the boat trip on the canals. Those weren't really the highlights, that was just pretty much all of it. We did a bit of gastronomic tourism as well (recommend Gogol for some Russian cuisine, Apteka for a decent "Indian restaurant that you enter through a public loo" experience and Terrassa or Mansarda for just a very strong evening). But apart from all that, it was just very excellent to see my parents and sister for the first time in a couple of months, and I always quite enjoy showing people around a bit (if that's what I was doing). What with the hotel being quite good (sauna and swimming pool facilities mainly used by the member of the party who wasn't actually staying there - i.e. me) and journeys both ways going well for them, I hardly think it could've gone better. Hopefully they agree. You. They.

So that was all good. It's been a week since they left and I think things were more or less back to normal, by which I mean 7 teachings, 4 lessons, 5 gyms, some football watching, some FIFA playing, some sleeping, some eating, some working and some relaxing. That's normal. We went out on Friday for Chris' birthday after some pre-sortie pizza and pres with the whole Durham lot here. A good night, dampened only by seeing first hand that some men still think that it's ok to be violent towards their girlfriends.

Что еще? Well, the uni enlisted me, Chris and Georgia to be recorded saying some things in English for the texts that all of the students will be using next year. We were fine with that and have done it twice. The good news is that they've given us huge arrays of foods and Russian pies (which are also foods, yes) both times we've been but the bad news is that we must be really annoying to work with because we end up cracking up laughing whenever anything goes remotely wrong. One of us who shall remain nameless (but isn't me or Chris and is Georgia) at one point read the sentence: "The Spanish RENFE is a system of very high speed trains with several routes across the country and some trains travelling at up to 125 metres per hour." After the original mistake, that took at least 10 takes and me leaving the room before we got through it without laughing.

Before I finish this off, just a quick and slightly more serious thought. At about this time last year, I was debating possibly going to Tomsk or Ulyanovsk rather than Petersburg. This morning I went for a quick walk and saw all this in under an hour:

I'm always one for a cheesy silhouette picture.

St Isaac was such a lurker.

This helicopter landed about 50 yards to my left among large police presence. Could be The Big Man VP.

So yeah, it's all good. Enough for now - things to do and football to watch. Until next time.

Phlogging some pictures

I feel that if my blogs have been lacking one thing above all up until now then that would be photos. As I don’t have very many things to say, I will put some of those here and this will be a phlog. With captions, maybe. We’ll see how things go.

As it has been two weeks, some things which don’t appear in these quite limited photos have probably happened. Actually pretty much everything I spend time doing is quite difficult to photograph, like uni classes or teaching. But am I really meant to gather the students round at the start of a class and just ask for a quick picture for the phlog? Things I spend my time doing: lessons and teaching and preparation for those two, football, gym, strolling about, going out, watching House of Cards. Percentage of those things appearing in these photos: 14.28. Still, here are some pictures. How do I even do this?

Ok well they're not in anything like a sensible order but let's just run with it. 

This is a canal. It's the one that goes towards uni and most of my teaching so I see a large amount of it.

The first of many of the Church of Spilled Blood but at least in this one Pushkin is kinda showing it to you.

Our quite pleasant walk from The Flat to Nevsky Prospect

This one is definitely the Church of Spilled Blood and a fair amount of the Russian Museum to the right as well.

This guy on the walk to the gym

One of the places I teach. Only about 24 hours after all those sunny pictures and it decided to snow again. Ok.

I'm literally in The Flat right now and should probably take some more pictures but this is one.

Quite like our little Yoda, randomly left for us on the floor just outside The Flat

This is the Kazan Cathedral which I walk past a good few times every day. Not bad. Not Durham / St Paul's standard but not bad.

I know, I know - you've already seen it. But it's a top building and this is what we get the moment we step out of The Flat

Token image of the inside of the gym...

...and the view from a treadmill in there. #pretendingIdocardio

Well, that's gone badly.

One of our haunts. The pool hall.

This was meant to be a great escalator snap. Unfortunately I just got this pole.

Where I teach on Mondays and Wednesdays

Soviet Arcade Game Museum - the number one museum of St Petersburg. What's a hermitage?

Yeah, but at night this time.

Went to a war museum one time.

Master and Margheritas

I’m only really writing this blog as a weekly check-in because time has flown by and nothing of enormous significance has occurred (cue my small readership closing the page and not bothering with the rest...)

Spring came to St Petersburg, which was something of a surprise. It was practically t-shirt and shorts weather. For a few days we had perfect blue skies, the sun with the tiniest bit of warmth in it, brightness and so on and it was all very pleasant. It would be safe to say that we have now come crashing back down to earth. It is -3, it is snowing, it is grey, it is windy, it is forecast to be between -1 and -8 for the rest of the week and it is not nearly as hospitable as it was a few days ago.

What have I done? Well Sunday / Monday to Wednesday appears to be the busy part of my week. I teach 4 times in those three days and I have 3 of my 4 uni classes so it’s a bit non-stop. Teaching my guys at the uni was just about passable despite the fact that we’ve now been talking about going on holiday for 4 weeks. My eight-year-old doesn’t know any words but does ok even so and my business class on Wednesday seemed to quite enjoy themselves. Uni lessons are pretty dull and uninspiring but they’re a fairly small part of the Petersburg experience so it doesn’t really matter.

Anyway, that was all a bit busy what with homework to prepare and lessons to plan while also going to the new gym in the time that was left but afterwards I had a relaxed end to the week. Thursday was about the laziest kind of day you could hope for. Evening football only starts at midnight here which meant a late night on Wednesday with the Champions League and pizza (how can one resist the allure of Mama Roma when it is so nearby and only costs £2.75 for a big and actually good pizza?). That led to a late start on Thursday, followed by quite a lot of not very much. We resisted further pizza and ate at a pelmeni place (basically dumplings, not dissimilar to dim sum) and then came back in time for the Spurs vs Benfica game. The less said about that the better.

Friday night we had our usual outing and made merry, before having a bit of a lazy Saturday. When there’s so much sport on it’s quite difficult not to just loll about watching it. With pizza. Work today, homework to do, lessons to plan. That’ll see me through until 8, at which point I’ll be subjected to watching the absolute drubbing that Arsenal are going to hand out to Spurs. Note to self: resist commiseration pizza if we lose. 

I’m still loving my time out here, still enjoying doing a bit of teaching, still very much appreciating the flat and generally I have very, very few complaints about the quality of life. Dad was right – it was always possible that one part of this trip would go better than expected (and maybe one a little worse, he said, but let’s forget about that part) and I’d have to say it’s this part. The Russia adventure looked like a strange idea of a good time. I said as much before I left.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Life, Lessons

I really don’t know where to start. I made the mistake of not writing a blog for a couple of weeks and I feel like quite a lot has probably changed / happened. In fact I just had a look at my last blog and yeah, that’s something of an understatement.

Ok so first off, I’m writing this from the new flat. I finally moved in on the 26^th February, I believe, having eventually worked up the courage to tell Evgeniya that I would be leaving. She was extremely good about it, so that was a relief. I could hardly be happier with the flat. It has everything we need and is very comfortable, plus the location is so central and convenient. This meant a small housewarming party last Friday with about 20 guests, which passed off very well, and we also had people over this Friday for dinner and drinks. Being able to have people come to visit is such a good aspect of having our own place.

On both of those nights we also sampled some of the local bars and clubs, which are all very good (for all their Russianness and quirks). Also it’s allowed me to bring out a good number of card tricks on a fairly regular basis and, as everyone knows, I always enjoy that. Hopefully the people I show them to do as well. Sorry about that grammar, "to whom", whatever.

On to other things. Ok, well apparently I’m a teacher now. I teach my uni class on Tuesdays and that seems to be going quite well, despite the boring syllabus. We just chat in quite a casual way but always in English and more or less on the right topic and then I explain stuff when it needs explaining. I’ve pretty much just defined teaching there, I realise. It’s good though – all a bit of a laugh but probably quite useful for the guys in my class as well. Aside from that, I teach a group of businessmen twice a week and an eight-year-old girl a couple of times a week aussi. There should be more jobs coming too. For visa reasons, I’m certainly not earning anything at all from these jobs and they are definitely entirely unpaid cultural exchanges but if they were paid then I’d probably say something like “it’s really nice to have a bit of income.” Hey, you can never be too careful... Anyway, it’s quite a lot of work planning lessons and stuff but I’m really enjoying it and it’s a case of so far, so good.

I joined a gym last week and I’ve been every day since. That is in small part because I enjoy it and I need to offset the insane amount of food that I’m eating in this country but it’s about 90% because not only is it the nicest gym I’ve ever been to, but it’s probably the nicest place that I’ve ever seen in the world. It’s all modern and glass and shiny and there are free towels (I don’t know why this is such a big deal to me) and there are views over Kazan Cathedral and the showers are the best I’ve ever had and it’s just generally all a pleasure.

I feel like things are finally settling down and getting into a rhythm of sorts. We have our classes and the preparation for them, I have the teaching stuff and the prep for that, I play me sports (also finally got some football going), we eat well, we play too much FIFA, we watch sport, we see friends, we go out. Usual. You come away and it’s all crazy but now it’s been a month and I can safely say that we’re doing life. The new, Petersburg life. At the moment, I just wish it wasn’t such a short time.

For now, I promised myself that I'd spend most of today and tomorrow getting a load of work done and lessons planned. Much as I don't like to admit it, blogging doesn't really count. Time to go.

Всего хорошего and счастливого всем!

Secret Restaurants, Parrots and The Crown Prince of Norway

I think I was more or less on the money when I wrote my first blog and kinda summed up the whole thing by saying that none of it is at all unpleasant but that it is certainly very strange.

I can't show you what I mean just in day to day life - you'd have to spend time here to understand that - but three examples from the last couple of days will probably show you what I mean.

So first, the haircut experience. It's always a bit of an adventure getting your hair cut in a foreign country, especially in one where the mullet is as popular as it is here in Russia. To nip that one in the bud, don't worry - my instructions were clearly intelligible enough to avoid that potential crisis - but in other ways this was an odd occasion.

Firstly, there were 6 hairdressers in quite a run-down salon, which seemed more than enough to satisfy the needs of their 0 customers. They seemed very surprised to see the potential clients that we represented. But more than that, the entire occasion was... made somewhat different from the usual English haircut by the presence of a cage of noisy and energetic parrots above my head. I wasn't really allowed to look at them (Russian hairdressers appear to care a lot more about the position of your head, as if the scissors / clippers have to stay entirely still while you are contorted into appropriate positions for the target hairs to be cut) but I was certainly aware of them perched above me, watching...

Anyway, the second little situation in which I find myself is of a surprising dependence on the Crown Prince of Norway. The story isn't anything major: I have a teaching job lined up with a Russian girl from the Norwegian Consulate (offered to me by her superior, the well named Henning Pentz 'Hanging Pants' Pendersen) and I was keen to get started, but was told I would have to wait patiently until the end of this week before my new student would have enough time for her lessons due to the visit of the Norwegian Crown Prince to Petersburg. I only mention it because it just seems so odd to me that I keep saying things like: "I wish that bloody Norwegian Prince would leave so I can start my new job", which is a not a sentence that I would ever have imagined that I would catch myself saying.

Last night also ended up being a bit more than what I'd expected. Jennie and I were invited by new friend Romain to go and have a couple of Friday evening drinks with him, his girlfriend and another of his friends. He told us the place was a little hard to find. Understatement of the century. He eventually came and found us and it soon became apparent that to gain access to our bar / restaurant, there was a.. procedure.

We went up to the top floor of a building containing a couple of bars and restaurants, where we found a smart-looking bar. We walked straight through there, through a back room and were led into the loos at the back of the bar. The four of us, three men and a woman, stood between the cubicles and the sink (whether in a women's or men's WC I do not know) before Romain went round the back of the cubicles and knocked on a secret door. In truly cartoonish style, a panel at eye level on the door was slid across and we were inspected, Romain tentatively announcing that we had a reservation. The mystery man behind the door demanded a password (no word of a lie) and Romain clearly said the right thing, handed over his exclusive member's card and presumably performed the secret handshake, and we we're allowed in. After that, I guess things were more normal. It was a very swanky bar / restaurant with very good Indian food and impressive cocktails. The evening passed off very well, after an interesting start.

So, as I say, none of it is at all unpleasant. My haircut turned out well, my job with the Norwegian consulate will be a good development and the secret restaurant experience was very enjoyable. But it is strange. I hope I've done that justice. When I catch myself looking up at some excited parrots or standing in a toilet cubicle waiting to be approved as a valid restaurant customer, or telling people that I'm annoyingly dependent on the whim of the Norwegian royal family, I still do just briefly wonder if I'm having a surreal dream.

A couple of final points just for the sake of completeness. The new flat is ours after further negotiations and, after quite some time deliberating, I managed to tell my host that I'd be moving out next week. Much as I've enjoyed it where I currently am, that'll be a fantastic part of this stay. I've started Russian classes, which are of limited interest so far but will probably improve. I taught a class of 12 lads English, which proved to be very enjoyable and quite a success. Otherwise, the usual combination of eating and drinking and watching spurs lose 1-0 to Dnipro has filled my time well.

Highly pleasant. Highly bizarre.

До скорого.

Flat Out

                It sort of wasn’t happening much and now it’s all happening or about to happen. As our classes only start this week we have been fairly free and as such have spent a lot of time in pubs watching football or coffee shops with the Winter Olympics or in restaurants generally enjoying the high quality and, it has to be said, low prices of life in St Petersburg.

               

It really is good from that point of view. You go to a restaurant which is relatively expensive for these parts (say 600 Barney Rubbles a head rather than 350-400) and it all feels quite nice and posh and they take your coat and call you sir and bring your food on silver platters (ok, not quite) and treat you generally very nicely... And then you leave at the end of a large meal with beverages and you’ve spent the princely sum of £8.63. Not bad, is it? It’s like being in Zimbabwe with a £10 note.

We’ve done a few useful things in amongst this merriment. For various fairly minor reasons and a couple of major ones, a couple of us have decided to move out into a flat of our own. We’ve spent hours researching and visiting potential places, more or less helped out by our new friend Andrei at the estate agency we’re using. Anyway, this all culminated last night in some serious action.

                After possibly two of the most stressful hours of our lives last night, intensely negotiating with our estate agent (who probably doesn’t like me because I kept calling him Andrei when that just isn’t his name, as it turns out) in Russian in his car, we agreed to push through our deal for our new flat. He untruthfully claimed that some other people were going to sign on it today and we had to hurry (a subsequent lie detector test determined that this was a lie). He became increasingly tetchy and spoke increasingly quickly as he became later and later for his Valentine’s dinner. He even sprung upon us a surprise new fee in addition what we thought we were paying, changing the nature of the deal from “seems too good to be true” to “well, it was a little bit too good to be true”, but with a bit of haggling, we’ve found ourselves a reasonable agreement and we’ll be perusing a contract on Sunday evening.

                It’s a pretty good situation, actually. The flat is nice and modern and gives us proper beds and highly comfortable surroundings, as well as finally having some internet. It’s also the most incredible location in the very centre of Petersburg but still in a quiet place (just next to the church which I think is called the Church of the Spilled Blood). Cutting ties with my host here will be awkward when she eventually gets back from Moscow but she didn’t even know she’d be having me until the day before I arrived so hopefully she’ll get over it.

                There’s not a lot else to be said about it, I don’t suppose. It’s a great development in the Petersburg Adventure and it’ll surely mean we can do more in town, especially in the evenings, because it’s so much easier to get home.

Actually come to think of it all that was the second most stressful part of last night. Nick and I decided to celebrate / recuperate after the dealings with a small meal out in town. For some reason, two guys having a quick bite to eat together on the evening of the 14^th February in Russia seems to be frowned upon in some way.

For now, it’s a case of having a very lazy Saturday to recover from the trials and tribulations of last night, before going and signing the contract tomorrow.

Oh, and we also went to the Hermitage, 3^rd biggest museum in the world, culture, art, stuff.... probably should’ve mentioned that a bit more. Impressive.

Otherwise, it’s all just getting started, for now. We’re all involved in a couple of different English teaching things starting this week, our classes start, the uni gym and swimming pool and clubs become available to us, we’ve met fellow football players who are good for regular games and this will all let us practise a bit more Russian too. I suppose that is the point of all this.

Up and running.

Better Late than Neva

My blog never really took off in France but Russia is interesting enough that I actually think it might here. Almost a week in to the St Petersburg adventure, here's a slightly overly long blog to report back.

It is certainly all as surreal as I could have hoped. I’m sitting in the living room in a flat belonging to an elderly Russian lady while she phones for clues to her codeword and a programme about some kind of Russian national sporting hero plays, presumably to whip up a bit of national pride. And it’s minus 5 degrees and everything is in Russian and it all seems different and unfamiliar. I’m definitely not suggesting that any of it is at all unpleasant but it’s noticeably foreign and strange, for now.

I guess I should recount the events of the last couple of days. Flew over on Wednesday 5th with Nick and Chris and managed to convince the Russians that we should be allowed into the country. Having been told that I would be met by “Svetlana” (who is not my host), I was slightly surprised when a long-haired and rather eccentric looking man enthusiastically greeted Chris and me, while Nick went off with an old lady who had been standing with him. He knew who we were and was significantly friendlier that his friend who drove us (predictably recklessly) in his car towards our new lodgings.

It was a slightly unexpected start but it became odder soon after. I was dropped at my house, said a brief hello to Evgeniya Vasilevnaya and left my bags (and coat – mistake) before getting back into the car to keep Chris company to his place. I was under the impression that the Long-Haired Man would then bring me home but in fact the car was driven off and we were left in the craziest flat I’ve ever seen. The belated appearance of Svetlana (for it is she) was worth waiting for – she was a Professor Trelawny-like figure (I think – the one in Garry Potter with big eyes) who claimed not to eat for months on end. Her house was full of rolls of twine and thread and cloth and strange trinkets piled high on tiny shelves absolutely everywhere. To say it was cluttered would be an understatement. Her peculiar son Ivan (24, a hulking, clumsy giant with a guttural voice and an interesting ponytail / facial hair combination) made brief appearances to angrily demand food and then disappear.
Svetlana, the Long-Haired Man, Chris and I sat around a tiny, low table being served totally random food products. Spiced tea, mayonnaise, a strange kind of cake, sour cream, biscuits, cheese and sausage on brioche and probably other things I’m forgetting all appeared as a sort of starter while some onion, carrots, red pepper and a small amount of chicken were boiled in some water for a main, complemented by more of the obligatory sour cream. This all took ages. We sat, first talking and then mainly listening as we became more tired, for about 4 hours in this overcrowded, hot flat before the Long-Haired Man declared that we should leave.

An extremely chilly 20 minute walk later, I was finally allowed to see my own place. It’s quite nice, as it happens. I’ll put up pictures at some point I guess. Evgeniya Vasilevnaya is a very friendly lady and speaks in a much more understandable way than the Long-Haired Man. She doesn’t cook for us (me and John from Durham, who arrived on Thursday) but has otherwise sorted us out well with very acceptable bedrooms. The Russian small-talk recommenced but by midnight (Petersburg time), I was out for the count.

Thursday things were still unfamiliar but less mysterious. I muddled my way to Nevsky Prospekt (the main road of Petersburg) and met Nick and Chris for goryachii shokolad and a stroll around the vicinity. We saw some things and did some things but generally just tried to get a feel for the new surroundings. I wouldn’t have said we’ve fully succeeded but we made a start.

On Friday and Saturday we set about seeing the most important sites of Petersburg. Playing ancient games with a cup of vintage cream soda in the Museum of Soviet Arcade Games was a highlight. A walk across the iced-over Neva to a submarine was worth the risk involved (NB for parents who may be reading, there was very little risk...) and the Museum of Artillery History was worth a look too. O’Hooligans Irish Pub (not a typo) allowed us to watch some English sport and we’ve eaten and drunk well in the city so far. Also it’s really cheap. So good news there.

Went to a little vecherinka on Saturday night to meet some new people and met some new people, as expected. Made it home on the treacherously icy roads with just the one tumble (extremely minor damage done to my right ring finger – send help) and then had a lazy Sunday out for lunch first and then in an Angliiskii Pab for the Spurs game. And we actually won.
As I’ve tried to show here, it’s all perfectly pleasant but just totally bizarre to begin with. I can’t say I have any complaints about anything really but if I was told this was all a strange dream then I’d believe it. We’ll see where it all goes from here!