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.
No comments:
Post a Comment