Just another Aussie in London

2010-06-11T17:43:00.005+01:00

Ummm...so I performed that poem. That poem (insert downward arrow here).

Under the suggestion of my uber-literate sister, I got my google on and searched for 'spoken word events london'.

I found that the Poetry Cafe in Covent Garden does a weekly event called 'Poetry Unplugged', an open mic night for the poetic and pathetic.

In the spirit of 'Whatever man, I'm in London, nobody knows me'...I went along. Despite the basement venue being quite 'intimate' (i.e. big enough to fit a lot of people, small enough that you can see everyone's face), I paid my £3 and signed up.

'That was a mistake', I thought as I sat down amongst different cliques of beatniks. I took comfort in the fact that I wasn't on until the second half. I sat back and listened to poems, prose and haikus about the tube, ticked- off lovers and a recently assassinated African political leader.

A glass of wine, a chat with some friendly regulars and the arrival of a friend all helped ease the tension a bit more. That was until a girl got called up and recited two crazy, crazy awkward poems. The first was a blow by blow account of her recent sexploit. I kid you not, the phrase 'Your sword inside me...' and similar variations were projected at loud to full volume. I looked at my feet and did the old 'hide your laugh as a cough'.

The second was a more political ditty about what it means to be black. Interesting, but made me pray, "Please don't make me go next, please don't make me go next."

I went next.

After being called up with the enchanting title of 'Poetry Unplugged Virgin', I stepped up to the mike and took a breath.

"Hello, I'm Grace. This poem is, this poem is really political. The title is, 'Ode to Snack'. Umm. Here it goes."

[N.B. My friend Jon will insist I said 'deep' but the MC's banter after that if flapjacks are a metaphor for the grain trade and 3rd world exploitation than yes, yes it is political poem. So yeah.]

A little slowly in order to prevent stuttering, I recited the poem to a seemingly amused but confused crowd. At its completion I snapped my notebook shut and walked off. A whole one minute and thirteen seconds of stage time.

Yeah, so that was about it. The rest of the poems were a range of memorable and forgettable (or more precisely 'want to forget'-able) and I left thinking, "That was kind of fun."

DO:

Write food poems
Perform them at open mic nights

DON'T:

Do them at the same place as me. We might then have the same niche. People would compare us. You'd probably be better. I'd feel bad and probably weep into my beanie.

2010-05-10T16:01:00.006+01:00

Ode to a Snack

You are both oaty and chocolatey.

In fact, you are fairly generous in your oat to chocolate ratio

(Though some would argue you slide a little too much to the oat).

You fill my empty tummy.

You're actually quite heavy like a muesli bar on steroids.

Some say you're a bit much with hot chocolate. I say that is a legitimate observation.

You have a friar with sunglasses on your wrapping.

He seems pleased with his bounty.

You wonder why he got into ministry when he's clearly so enamored with snack-food.

You were a stranger to me, but now a friend.

Well, not really. More like a one-afternoon stand.

You are...

A Flapjack.

DO:

Try a flapjack.

DON'T:

Consume it with a milky beverage.
Write a blog entry about it. It's weird.

2010-05-01T15:27:00.002+01:00

I’m standing at the self-service cashier in Sainsbury’s swiping through my groceries. A few cans of chickpeas, a tin of salmon, a bottle of red. A message pops up on the screen, “Please seek assistance. Approval is needed”.

No biggie. I open my wallet and grab my Australian license. I look around for someone to show my ID. An apathetic sales assistant strolls over to me. His pace is impressively leisurely. I pass him my license.

“Wales,” he states.

I glance down and notice he’s looking at where it’s from.

“New South Wales,” I correct.

“This is nicer than the pink one,” he goes on, having not heard what I said.

I see he’s referring to the yellow strip above the photo.

“It’s Australian,” I insist.

“I didn’t know Wales got a new license,” he continues.

“I don’t think it did,” I suggest.

He ploughs on, “New colour. It’s nice.”

I take a breath and put it in perspective.

“Thanks.”

DO:

Buy grog from self-service cashiers. You’re likely to get a conversation out of it.

DON’T:

Expect to be listened to in said conversation.

2010-02-24T18:10:00.003Z

FACT: I still genuinely get a little flustered when people drop the "Alright?" bomb on me.

After five or six months here, you would have thought I could reply to this shorthand version of 'How are you?'.

I can't.

I keep saying, "Yes." On worse days, I follow it with, "...thank you?"

Today was one of these days.

DO:

Reply an 'Alright?' with an 'Alright'

DON'T:

Panic

2010-02-20T16:59:00.001Z

Dear Reader,

Let me update you on Grace's mundane life in bullet points. This is both extremely palatable and easy on the eye. Quite like myself. What?!

Since we last met, I've:

Found a job ushering at the Bloomsbury theatre. I pull off ticket stubs whilst pulling beers. Not really but that sounds like I'm a crazy good multi-tasker.
Been visited by a young gentleman from Australia who goes by the title of 'Ridiculously patient boyfriend'.
Travelled with said gentleman to Berlin & Paris to visit a couple of oh so charming Berliners...and I do mean 'jelly donuts'.
Returned back to uni after aforementioned holiday to discover I had to undertake a research project. Since when does post-grad work require actual dedication? Outrageous.
Had a short play put on at Theatre 503. Seeing something in my head be performed in front of me by competent players was the equivalent of having a mini volcano go off in my prefrontal cortex. In short, it blew my mind. In the best, and least damaging, way possible.

When in London....

DO:

Contact me. It gives me a rad excuse to be an unashamed tourist. I think I take more photos than people visiting London for the first time. It's unsettling.
Gorge on the wonders of the Burroughs markets. I'm still grinning from the scallops/oyster/raclette bonanza I ate for lunch.

DON'T:

See Peter Brook's 11, 12. An hour and a half I will never get back. Maybe he was a seminal theatre practitioner in the 60s/70s...but if I start cacking myself because I made a rustling noise with a cracker packet- I'm either deliriously bored or my brain is pushing the boundaries on what can be classified as entertainment. Brook pushed me there.
Bring a packet of crackers into Peter Brook's production of 11, 12.

2009-11-12T16:24:00.001Z

Since our last meeting a number of things have happened. The job I 'had' didn't eventuate, I flew to and from Australia in a matter of a week and the man in our boiler room suggested that paying £20 a week to live there was a bit steep. Ridiculous.

Tomorrow I attempt my first trial shift since that ill-fated non-event that was the restaurant. This time it's at a theatre. I'm either working as an usher or at the bar. Management were suitably vague, despite the jobs being markedly different. One is pulling off ticket stubs, the other is pulling beers.

Not only that but I'm unsure whether 'Wear a black shirt' means a collared shirt or a t-shirt since I find the British are generally making an effort to undermine any word definition I previously thought I had down pat. I googled it and was further confused by images of women in frilly black tops. Neither here nor there really.

The way I've decided to solve the problem is based purely on economy. That is, I don't have much money but I do have a black t-shirt. Done and done.

DO:

Have a respected playwright come into uni to give a guest lecture (Simon Stephens for anyone who's playing at home)
Go up to him after to ask a question about his most recent play

DON'T:

Be surprised when he wants to answer your question and his excitable manner means you end up circling around and around each other
Imagine him as a child requiring one of those retractable baby leashes. It's weird and distracting.

2009-10-09T20:16:00.000+01:00

Nepotism: the only effective way to get a job in London.

Yes, dear reader, all you need is a little- "Hey, so my housemate is looking for work..." and BAM, you're month long ritual of self-flagellating CV-dropping is over. Things are looking up for this would-be Londoner.

Correct, I work in a restaurant after declaring I'd never work in hospitality again.

Correct, I travel over 45 minutes to south London to get there.

Correct, my trial shift involved me snapping a cork into a £40 bottle of Sauvignon Blanc I was opening.

But hey! A job is a job & beggars can't be choosers (especially if you're begging to choose a better job).

Praise God for greasy restaurant owners & flat mates who'd like you to be able to pay next month's rent.

DO:

Start your eagerly awaited uni course
Enjoy meeting the fourteen other writers in said degree
Notice the uniforms amongst the various cohorts at the Central School of Speech & Drama e.g. movement studies students= black tees and tights (usually highlighted by them stretching suggestively in the corridors) or tech/production students- hoodies and baggy pants (generally coupled with a knowing look of "Yeah, I work behind the scenes but everyone knows the show wouldn't work without me"). Of course, even the writers can't help falling into the trap of collective sheepery with their skinny leg jeans covered with traces of tobacco that failed to remain inside their poorly rolled cigarettes.

DON'T:

Spot your house mate's punnet of Ben & Jerry's cookie dough ice cream in the freezer.
Continue to think about the aforementioned ice cream the rest of the night.
Write a blog entry documenting your lust for the still untouched, but oh so desired ice cream.
Keep reading my diatribe about how I want to eat my house mate's ice cream. You're only encouraging me. Seriously.

2009-10-01T15:10:00.000+01:00

Last week, in my harrowing tales as a London lady of leisure (i.e. jobless street bum), I showered down curses upon hostel living and the very city itself. In comparison, this week’s blog is more upbeat than a dropkicked ball. Strap in for another week of high highs and low lows. The lowest being me in the foetal position, voluntarily watching the Sex & the City movie.

I’m glad to announce we finally found a place. Only fifteen plus home inspections and we finally have a house to call our own...and by ‘own’ I mean someone else’s at a marked-up price. Yet I’ve never been so glad to have a room, even if I can hear the overground outside my window and a man singing Madonna’s Hollywood to no one in particular.

Moving in was relatively painless. My life had been packed up into two rolly bags. I basically was a bag lady…minus the cats. Now that I have a place to call mine, I’ve gotten very imperialist. I’ve put up a flag and called my 2 by 2.5 patch of floorboard- Gracetopia, the land of the freak. Other options included:

The People’s Republic of Gracie

The United States of Grackles

The Former Gracious Union

and…

Boomtown.

Now my eyes are set for colonizing the bathroom cupboard. Yet instead of flags I’ll claim it with multiple, seemingly superfluous bottles of hair conditioner. Now that’s military thinking at its finest.

Tune in next week as I continue the job hunt, ponder the term ‘lingerie waitress’ and meet Freddy the man in the boiler room.

DO:

Read Facebook ads about your favourite artists
Attend the DJ sets of afore mentioned bands
Have a brief and slightly Swimfan-esque chat to the lead singer of New Young Pony Club

DON’T:

Attempt to gloat about said encounter to people who think that New Young Pony Club is the latest jockey club for today’s youth

2009-09-23T19:41:00.001+01:00

London is the deathtrap of my dreams, the place I've gone to drown with no water.

I received a letter from a supposed friend the other day. It read as such:

Dear Grace,

You are jobless and have no friends. You live in a dorm room with 13 other girls and eat cheese & crackers for dinner. I'm pretty sure I just heard my friend 'Your Sense of Well-Being' snap. I believe you two used to be acquainted.

Please ask God to throw you a bone on my behalf...or at least a punnet of rather rich ice-cream.

Yours truly,

Your Dwindling Sanity xo

I've made the journey halfway around the world in the grand tradition of Australians moving to the mother country. Nothing original in that. I've come to study, find a job and preferably not live in the gutter. Two weeks in, I've yet to make good on any of these predicaments.

Cries of "Why am I here?", "Where am I going?" and "What's that stuck to my shoe?" have resounded throughout my head and heart since I first arrived. Already I've gone from having high hopes of snatching a sub-editing position at a respected newspaper to simply wanting to snatch a newspaper.

You may be asking, "Will Grace find a job? Will she live to see the start of semester? Will she ever move out of her hostel?"

To your questions, dear reader, I pose another deeper, more life-altering question....

When is Season Five of the American Office being sold on DVD?

Ah yes, life is full of profound queries and contemplations...

Until then, consider this. In London:

DO:

Visit the British Museum- give yourself at least a day.
Take advantage of the Arts Council's Under 26 free theatre scheme- http://www.anightlessordinary.org.uk
Go to a service at All Souls, Langham Place
Take your own pillow to a hostel. If not for your own comfort, for the noise reduction it can provide whilst you're trying to sleep.

DON'T:

Coincide your hostel stay with German school holidays i.e. mid-September to October. I've been propositioned in broken English by more 19 year old school boys than I care to recall. All I'll tell you is that if a blonde boy named Hans asks if you want to play a game, say 'No'.
Be shocked when the Palmers Lodge showers have no hot or cold tap, just one frightening gage. Basically the hotter you want it, the higher the pressure is going to have to be. Wear a helmet if you're fearful of knocking your head on the shower wall due to the unexpected force of the water pressure. If my advice comes too late, take respite in the free breakfast of croissants and Cornflakes you'll be enjoying the next morning.

Food for thought, dear reader. Food for thought.

2007-07-26T17:01:00.000+01:00

Lqst night in Paris and have yet to figure out French keyboqrds- I"ll keep it short;

Done the touristy things, my fqve being the Musee d"Orsay (large museum of Impressionist art). Really enjoyed all the wqlking I get to do and the outdoor cafes thqt I pretend to be Camus in.

Flgiht home tomorrow; bittersweet, but mostly sweet. Hooray for family and friends!

2007-07-22T18:03:00.000+01:00

Current location= Lyon, France

After a week in Switzerland (including 2 days in Italy) and an 8 1/2 hour train trip, I'm now staying with family friends, Jennifer and Bob. I'm then heading to Paris on Tuesday and home on Saturday.

Every day here so far I have had the time and opportunity to:

Go for walks
Write
Eat fine food
Drink good wine

Donations to the "Buy Grace a Villa in France Foundation" (BGVFF) are now readily accepted.

Please, give generously.

2007-07-17T09:12:00.000+01:00

Current location= Switzerland

So the Eastern Europe adventure is over. Sad but true. Already missing the constant change, new environments and ridiculous people that you meet.

Arrived on Saturday night and was swiftly taken by my aunt to her friend's house. Walking through the somewhat sterile, marble apartment I was surprised to be met by a loud, polka dot skirted woman named Irene. It started out like a normal cocktail party; nibbles, contrived small talk, clumps of people dotted around the room. Then the music started. The petite host pushed her way to the centre of the terrace and proceeded to dance like an African tribal chief.

Instead of standing aghast and gawking, one by one, the group of middle aged women began to join her. Then there was just me left, wondering how I could escape subtley from my rooftop prison. Yet within ten minutes, I had gone from being Wendy Wall-flower to a wannabe Beyonce. I had no choice.

The following days have been a little less bohemian. We've gone walking through the hills surrounding my aunt and uncle's house, enjoyed long lunches on their balcony and been driving through the Alps. I love Europe.

2007-07-12T16:23:00.000+01:00

Am in Brasov, Translyvania (middle part of Romania). Spent 3 days in Bucharest- 2 days too many. Despite warnings against pickpocketing and general shadiness, it's been pretty smooth sailing.

Brasov is amazing. Went and did a tour of 3 castles yesterday and hung out at a traditional ROmanian restaurant with our hostel friends. Today we caught a cable car to the top of the mountain and proceeded to walk down. It started raining half way down. Yeehaa.

Celebrating Jenny's birthday today as we split up before her actual one. Can't really thinking of anything else really. Tomorrow night is our last night in Romania before we all fly out. I'll be heading to my uncle and aunt's in Legano, Switzerland to see them and my dad again.

See you soon!

2007-07-06T14:54:00.000+01:00

Bored.

Waiting for our night train to Bucharest, Romania. Nothing has really happened....went walking yesteday to the top of Castle Hill. Lots of steps. Nice view.

Um, kind of just wasting time. Better go do something touristy.

2007-07-04T18:15:00.000+01:00

Oh Budapest, I totally heart you....despite being ripped off by various members of your population.

We had planned to spend a few days here and then make trips out to other parts of Hungary. That kind of never happened though. We're still at the Mandragora Hostel and have become part of the furniture.

The character list over the past week has included-

Judy, Norbert and Zolly (the Hungarian hostel managers who 9 times out of 10 are sleeping in the loft, depending who's on shift and how late their previous night was)
Ben, Samuel and Ben (the Welsh lads who won our hearts by giving us peanut butter...NB haven't had peanut butter since Australia, ie early January!)
Simon and Merryn (the painfully witty couple from Edinburgh learning Arabic; my stomach still hurts from their stories about living in Cairo)
The chavs (British version of bogan....you learn something new every day)
Catherine and Amanda (the Canadian girls who took us to a Hungarian buffet then caving...it made the tight squeezes all the much tighter)

So in the last week or so, we have-

Gone to Chinatown and the two hundred year old cemetery
Gone swimming in thermal springs at City Park
Gone caving (ok on a quick side note- had to laugh when the caving guide inadvertently made a lifelong enemy of me. He demonstrated how he could go through this tiny squirm hole called the 'Winnie the Pooh hole'. Looking around the mostly female group he declared, "YOu could all go through that hole." He then looked at me, smiled and said, "Except those with a little extra on their hips." I couldn't help but be proud of him- in his very limited knowledge of English he was able to effectively and strategically insult me. However, the irony that this highly unpleasant little fellow was going through the 'poo' hole was not lost on me.)
Went wine tasting
Walked around Buda Castle and the Labyrinth

By the time we leave here on Friday, we'll have spent 10 days in Budapest. Whoops.

2007-07-01T00:58:00.000+01:00

Waiting for the shower after a....'unique' night out. So, um, went to this bar called Bohemian Alibi yesterday when it was just us and some of the owner's friends. But then tonight....absolutely packed. Why? Because tonight was the drag cabaret show.

Des'ree was very excited to see us and greeted us with champagne. In return we had to endure an hour of him singing "I'm a sexy woman" around a pole. At one point, I remember mournfully looking into the bottom of my champagne glass thinking, "I'm going to need a stronger drink."

That never came though and we spent the rest of the night making our way around the bar, being not really a part of the gay crowd, the Hungarian crowd, the emo crowd or the several examples of awkward single heterosexual males.

2007-06-28T17:46:00.000+01:00

Am in Budapest, Hungary on the Pest side of the city. We're staying in this very New Age hostel with incense burning, Buddhas everywhere and a range of tea as far as the eye can see. Also sleeping on a matress in a loft bedroom which adds to the hippy vibe.

Explored the city today including the Parliament, St Stephan's Basillica and walking along side the Danube River. Am really enjoying Hungary so far, but nothing beats the Czech Republic. It was cleaner, cheaper and far few skeezy drunk guys. In comparison, our last few days in Oloumouts were just way too nice. We cycled up the the lake, walked around the stony streets and got to know the different bars in the city. A fave was definitely 9A, thanks to its rock climbing room and cushy, marshmellow-like floor.

So we're stationed here in Budapest for the next week or so. We're planning to just do day trips to other parts of the country as Hungary is just so small and Budapest is just so central. Then it's Romania. Hazaa!

2007-06-25T10:57:00.000+01:00

Am in Oloumouts at the moment. We spent 2 nights in Cesky Kromlov during their annual medieval festival which was too funny for words. Our hostel was like a little family and we were busy using the dress up box for the weekend.

Spent 8 hours on a bus yesterday. So...don't ever want to go on a bus again. Thus am really looking forward to our bus to Budapest in a few days.

SHould go explore Oloumouts, it's our first full day here and we're going to go check out the tower and the teahouses.

PS. Don't try and vault a fence with a heavy backpack strapped on. An image for you: over-turned turtle struggling to flip over.

2007-06-21T13:30:00.000+01:00

Bowm-chicka-bowm....am in the Czech Republic.

Last Saturday, caught my flight over from England with Jenny and met Meaghan at Prague airport.

Spent 3 nights in Prague, staying at the Clown and Bard hostel.
Prague included:

Room on the 5th floor overlooking city
Lots of walking around as we were too cheap to use the tram or metro
Boat ride on river
Prague Castle
Cheap (and definitely not nasty) food and drink
Befriending our 2 Canadian roommates and taking them out to a sketchy Reggae bar on their first night....whoops
Cobble stone streets and colourful, old buildings
Jenny getting locked out of the room on the first night and having to sleep in the 32 person dorm upstairs. It was touch and go when we woke up in the morning and she wasn't there.

We then caught the train to Karlovy Vary (a resort style town where rich Russians and Germans come to get spa and health treatments). Probably more beautiful than Prague as it's surrounded by thick forest and springs. We're staying in an apartment and up until today were sharing with a purple haired, gourmet mushroom grower from San Francisco and a very quiet guy from Brisbane. First Aussie I've found here (New Zealanders don't count). Shame that he was so quiet that when he entered the flat, the way we were introduced was by me opening the toilet door on him. I can vouch that a lot of shrieking ensued.

Went swimming in the public pool yesterday and then Meaghan and I headed for our luxurious mud bath. Turned out to be a normal bath with mud deposits lurking at the bottom. 20 minutes in a turd bath effectively.

So we head off to Cesky Kromlov tomorrow...will try an update you soon.

2007-06-15T18:35:00.000+01:00

Last night in England tonight, tomorrow I head to Prague, Czech Republic with Jenny and Meaghan.

Have had a pretty good week here. Have done a lot of the standard tourist things- visited Windsor Castle, Tower of London, Big Ben, Westminster Abbey, Hampton Court, Portobello Road, Camden markets, the London Eye and the Tate Modern (saw Dali & Film exhibition).

Have seen 2 plays and 2 films- one being 'Jindabyne'. It's so dumb how patriotic you get overseas, but hey...it was that or Mr Bean. The movie finished later than I expected though so the night ended with me running down the Thames embankment in my new jeans. So to all the canoodling couples I was passing, I effectively looked like a young Forest Gump with his legs stuck in braces. Hot I know.

Have had lunch and dinner with way too many relatives and old friends and am looking forward to being young and irresponsible (responsibly).

2007-06-09T11:09:00.000+01:00

So I'm in England. Victory is mine!

Was quite hard leaving my family and new friends. Spent the last night just hanging out with my host sisters and our mutual friends Olga and Sveta. It was kind of perfect. Sveta hopes to come to Australia next year. I hope she does. We hardly speak each other's language but somehow we understand each other. Ah the power of facial expression.

Got bumped up to business class on my flight, which was awesome. I didn't even realise what the lady had done until I was sitting in the plane completely surrounded by guys in suits.

Am loving understanding what people are saying and that I can drink the water straight from the tap! But on the downside am finding it a little tiring meeting all of Dad's friends and making small talk.

Got a chance for some much needed 'Grace' time yesterday as I walked around London. Hit up Oxford St and went window shopping. Have yet to take one photo as I figure I'll live here at some point and you never really take photos of where you live. I love how (now this is going to sound patronizing)...quaint...all the streets are. And compared to Russia, it's so clean! I'm freaking out!

Going to have a look around Marlow (Dad's area) and have dinner at the Pride's tonight. Wish me luck. Also don't judge me but I may or may not be watching English Big Brother at the moment.

2007-06-06T15:44:00.000+01:00

So this is my last blog from Russia as tomorrow I leave for England. It’s bittersweet to say the least. I’ve both loved and hated it in varying degrees throughout. Lately, I’ve been feeling a nice balance. I almost think I loved it too much when I first arrived. My time here has almost been like a turbulent relationship. I was madly in love at first and when reality finally hit I started to see Russia for the place it really was.

I have to say, I really respect Russians for how they just take everything on the chin. The flipside of that is a kind of apathy towards others….also known as selfishness. I also loved their bluntness at first, but after a while it’s kind of grating. I’m almost like, ‘Can you please just sugar-coat that comment?!’ I’m ashamed to say that on a scale of one to emo, I was pushing a little to close to emo at times. The fact that I dyed my hair black in a moment of teenage angst is not a decision that I currently rejoice in. The black nail polish hasn’t helped the look either. Oh cringe.

But I’ll never get over how hospitable they are. My host family have been awesome. Yes, I’ve had certain issues with certain members, but you can’t recognise the good without knowing the bad.

Last week, Mum came for a 5-day visit, leaving on Monday. It was really nice to see her after so long. Showed her around the city and she came for lunch at my host family’s flat. Also loved getting a bit spoilt at our hotel. It is possible that, when I entered our hotel room, I spent five to fifteen minutes punching the air in jubilant celebration. Two words for you- room service.

It was also pretty cool when we went down to the restaurant and were seated opposite this group of young, casually dressed guys. One of them I swore I recognised and I was thinking, ‘Do I know him? Should I say something?’ Then it dawned on me. It was the lead singer of Linkin Park. I whispered this to Mum, to which she bellowed, ‘Linking what?!’

Another band, Tokio Hotel, were also staying in the same hotel and they had all these groupies out the front (as signified by the posters they held up and emo apparel). While we were having dinner, we were entertained by watching Linkin Park peering out the window, thinking the groupies were for them. Their competition to see who could blow out their cheeks the furthest was also sad to say the least.

The rest of this week has been less celebrity spotted. Had the last supper with the St Pete’s GAPpers at our fave burger and cocktail joint- City Bar, spent the day at Peterhoff and today I went to Pavlosk. Realised that you probably have no idea what I’m talking about, so those name places probably don’t mean a thing. They’re both palaces with extensive gardens….swiiiiiish!

And so tonight is my last night with my fam. They’re already planning what we’ll do when I come back in a few years. Will let you know how I’m doing as I travel around Europe. Stay in touch!

2007-05-22T16:02:00.000+01:00

Am so ridiculously behind on the email front that it’s getting to the point of intimidating. So I thought I’d do a generic blog first.

Basically, on the scale of one to rubbish, my weekend was close to rubbish. Had Valia’s 21st dinner/night out. At first, dinner was awkward to the point of ridiculous. No one talked to me because I couldn’t speak Russian. I then made friends with Valia’s friend, Sveta. But this huge plus kind of felt outweighed by me feeling like the butt of every joke, thanks to two idiot guys- Misha and Andrei (who annoyingly followed me around the whole night like the KGB spies they are probably descended from).

We then headed for the club ‘Pontu-le-mone’. When we got there, realised it was actually called ‘Ponty Lemon’. My host sister Sasha, who was smashed off her nut before we even entered the club, continued to be loud and obnoxious…that is until Valia and her boyfriend decided to go home. Half an hour after that, she picked up her bag and stormed out.

So there I was alone with Valia and Sasha’s Russian friends at 3AM in some club in the back of Kolpino. Asked where Sasha had gone and had it explained that she had gone home. Cool, my way home just ditched me.

Called it a night and said that I was going home. Going alone in taxis here are dodgy so I was planning to walk home. However, no one wanted me to do that. I insisted it was fine, but they were adamant that we would all just catch a taxi to the flat instead. Cool, cut the night short for everyone.

Got back and Sasha was shocked to find we had all come home together. Veronika explained why and Sasha proceeded to rant about me, in front of me, in Russian. My Russian isn’t great but I’m not born yesterday. We then had a bit of a blow-out after everyone left.

Next day, stayed in my room till she had left in order to avoid further clashes. Caught the bus to the metro to meet Meaghan for our DVD arvo. Hour and a half later of waiting, no Meaghan. She doesn’t have a mobile so I just went home. Found out later that we were waiting at different exits.

Chatted with my mum on the phone and then to Valia when she came home. Talked with Sasha and settled things. I then comforted myself with the promising refuge of DVDs. Ah, but to no avail! More friends were coming around for dinner that night. Yipee! And who else would they be but my favourite lads- Misha and Andrei! And where did they think it would be cute to sit me? In between them!

But whatever- I got through it and worse things have happened, right? Anyway, since then my week has been heaps better. Had the end of semester concert at nursery and had my final classes with the 3rd year class. Valia had her girlfriends around last night and that was surprisingly fun. We spoke in Engl-Ruski and had tea and cake. Did think it was a bit weird that afterwards they made an activity of weighing themselves in front of each other. When my turn came around to get on the scales, I made it clear that I’d rather rub sand into my eyes than undergo that humiliation. They just thought that was so cute!

So now I have no more work to do except Russian lessons. Am looking forward to having the time to see all the sights and enjoy the great weather. Kolpino is so beautiful at the moment. In the park across the road from our flat, all the tulips are out and every afternoon the lake is filled with couples lazily rowing their dinghies. It’s eerily idyllic with all the yellow dandelions and the hyper green grass. There’s a sense of urgency in its colour like it knows that the following winter is already near.

The white nights are also creeping into action. I can’t help waking up at 5AM as the sun bears down like a floodlight through our useless chiffon curtains. It gets dark only after 11 so every night you feel like a three year old being told to go to bed at 6PM. Unavoidably I’m kind of struggling on the sleep front. This has probably magnified my emotions two or three fold so I’m sorry if my retelling of my weekend sounds whiney and/or melodramatic. I can’t really tell anymore.

Hope you are all well and please know that just because I haven’t emailed you yet doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about you. Peace out!

2007-05-17T18:48:00.000+01:00

I’ve been putting off this post, but it’s time….I need to crawl out of the ever so welcoming Russian abyss.

Let’s see…last week:
We had yet another public holiday, Victory Day. Fireworks, parades, drunken Russians.
JFC Jazz club with Meaghan- moody red lighting, intimate venue, cute double bass player- made me wish I was born in the 40s (bar the world wars)
Weekend in Vyborg (ridiculous town on border of Russia and Finland). Markets, slept in a boat hostel (first time I haven’t shared a room in 4 months…bliss), frequented the same restaurant 3 times, Eurovision and dropped my camera into the Gulf of Finland whilst paddle-boating. Over 800 photos- going, going and gone.

This week:
- Meaghan’s birthday picnic on the ‘beach’ (stretch of sand on the banks of the Neva River)
-Nursery (practicing for their concert next Monday…they’re doing Aesop’s fable ‘The Lion and the Mouse’…I’m the rhino)
-Russian lessons- want to shoot the language in its proverbial head. Noun endings, adjective endings, verb endings, 6 grammatical cases (I will know 4 by the end of my trip). So if you ask me if I’m fluent in Russian when I get back, I will backhand you. Our teacher Natasha says that after 10 years of study, ‘You will speak quite well.’

Today:
§ Last class with Jenny and my 1st year uni class. Only found out when I got there. We were surprised at the end with one of the students and Maria (the real teacher) re-entering with cherry cake and tea. Can’t believe it’s all finishing up now.

Coming weeks:
§ Valia’s 21st
§ ‘Fear and Loathing…’ DVD night with Emma and Meaghan at my flat (everyone else is off to Finland for the weekend)
§ Final week of teaching
§ Mum comes to St Pete’s on the 31st and we stay in a fancy pants hotel. I ask for nothing but a bath that I can vegetate in for 4 to 6 hours.

Coming post: A thorough, modernist deconstruction of the linguistic framework and behavioral patterns of J. Edgar Hoover whilst in office.

2007-05-07T15:35:00.000+01:00

Look at the photos on the next post before this one if you like linear narratives.

Inside Tsarskoye Selo.

This photo really sums up Ludmilla and my relationship.

Ludmilla- "I'm not sure about this Grace"

Grace- "Nah, nah, just go with it. We'll be sweet."

In front of one of the park's many museums.

Inside the stables.

Yes, the wheel is taller than I am.

Aw...the bus stop!

2007-05-07T15:27:00.000+01:00

Went to Alexander Nevky Monastery to the Artist's Necropolis (where a lot of Russia's greatest cultural icons are buried). This is a shot of Dostoyevsky's grave.

Jenny, braving it with me in the snow.

At Tsarskoye Selo. Went there today with my host mum Ludmilla. Russian royalty knew how to spoil themselves.

Yeah, that's my house.

Ludmilla!

2007-04-29T14:58:00.000+01:00

Here’s where I show you my self-centered, self-reflexive self-doubt…does the number at the bottom corner of your profile indicate the number of hits on your site or just the profile itself?

I happened to notice it on my brother in law’s blog and was humbled by his 500 to my 50. My rationale is that if the blog is wrong in saying I started mine last August, maybe it’s wrong in its calculation of hits! Maybe I’m really reaching an audience of minions upon minions! Maybe my geeky travels through Russia are interesting more people than my mum! Maybe the aliens have made me their sovereign queen!

Or maybe not.

In conclusion, I should really concentrate on traveling rather than on who reads about me traveling.

Here’s a photo to distract you from the latter paragraphs.

Front row (l-r): Jenny, Gen, me, Meaghan and Morgan

Back row: Tony and Mitch

Invisible member of Turkey group: Blair (was taking the photo)

2007-04-29T13:48:00.000+01:00

Courtyard of the bazaar near our hotel in Istanbul. Round the corner we spent our first afternoon having lunch, sipping apple tea and soaking up the sun.

Inside Haghia Sophia. We got touristy on our second day along with the other hordes of Australians we found in Turkey. Native English speakers! Praise God!

Jenny, me, Tony and Mitch in Topkapi Palace. I couldn't help thinking about Disney's Aladdin. The next day we went to the Grand Bazaar and haggled. My pride and joy are the bowls I bought.

Their offer= $25 for one bowl.

My offer= $30 for 4

Half an hour later.

Deal.

After Istanbul, we (8 of us GAPpers from Novgorod and St Pete's) bussed it to Cannikale on the Gallipoli peninsula. We were staying in a one-horse town with no other tourists. So the beach was our only option. Would have been grouse if it hadn't been so windy. But hey, the beach....I wasn't complaining!

At the dawn service on ANZAC Day. We then trotted up to Lone Pine for the Australian service. Half of the group went to the New Zealand service after while the rest of us looked around at the head stones.

Burning some time waiting for the others to get back, I lay down and had a quick kip on on the seats. Woke up and took off my aviators. It soon became clear from the others' loving observation that I was quite burnt. I may or may not have looked like a red racoon.

I don't want to talk about it.

2007-04-19T05:57:00.001+01:00

Am off to Turkey for a week or so. Have a good ANZAC day.

2007-04-15T17:53:00.000+01:00

Bizarro weekend.

Seeing as the end of my Russia adventure is in sight, I’ve jumped on the tourist bandwagon. So yesterday Meaghan and I walked to Smolny Cathedral. Curious about the adjacent building that people seemed to be wandering into, we naturally followed. Somehow we found ourselves then sitting in the back of this university’s business lecture, taking photos with great stealth. We continued our stroll into the city’s water treatment plant, climbing the city’s water tower. Met up with other GAPpers and hit up (not a word from you, Imogen!) the Museum of Ethnography and Curiosities. Forty-five minutes later of outdated Soviet propaganda and deformed, sallow babies in jars- I was spent.

‘But, Grace…’ you may say, ‘…that’s hardly a wild outing.’
In reply- I would say, ‘Yeah, you’re probably right.’

It was today that was the real corker. Met up again with Meaghan at Pushinskaya metro to take a look at the ‘Dissenter’s March’ that was to start at midday. Basically a number of the political parties were nudged out of the running for the recent state elections due to ‘administration’ errors in their documents. In other words, opposition parties aren’t allowed in a democratic election. In reaction, various political parties and their supporters aimed to take to the streets today and walk to the mayor’s office.

But before any walking commenced, there was one and a half hours of speeches. Meaghan and I passed the time by admiring the pretty, pretty soldiers. Made the discovery that the reason we have seen little to no attractive men in St Petersburg is because they are all in the military. Our favourites- ‘Our guy’, Smiley, Smiley’s friend and Number 5- unknowingly entertained us as we made running commentaries on their every move.

To see elderly ladies growl contemptuously at these guys, most of them hardly over 20, was oddly confronting. I never expected to sympathize with Russian riot control police. I’ve learnt to fear the police over here and steer clear of their corruption. Their heavy handedness is not watered down in the English newspapers. But to see the fear in the eyes of some of them, still pock marked from their recent stint of puberty, was humanizing. They were just kids.

Apparently, if boys don’t enter university straight after school they are obliged to provide two years of military service. That means no GAP years and no other private enterprises. The hazing rituals are renowned for their brutality. A distinct hierarchy prevails- 2nd year boys own the 1st years.

The march eventually started and Meaghan and I watched from behind the barricade. Discussing where we were going for lunch, it suddenly became clear that we were blockaded in. Where we had been was now blocked off by a line of soldiers with large transparent shields. Where we wanted to go was now crowded with more soldiers linked arm in arm.

We quickly moved off to the opposite side of the multi-laned prospekt, a safe distance from the ensuing action. Charges were made by the police to compact the crowd. It was like watching a rough, human game of Tetris. When the military helicopter arrived and I started wondering if I had somehow been transported to Kuwait, we knew it was time to go.

Sitting in a marbled Chinese restaurant, the protest half an hour’s walk away, I thanked God I was Australian. To live in a real democracy is not something to take for granted. Drinking green tea and eating noodles, the afternoon seemed somewhat surreal. We could walk away from Russia, but Russians couldn’t.

2007-04-11T15:51:00.000+01:00

Herro,

Quick rant- jsdkflajsdkfjsdlfjksdfjslbvppwbvdlslsj!

Ok, I feel better. All I wish to say is that I thoroughly dislike creepy guys on the metro and/or bus. Personal space is called that because it is personal.

Hope you all had a happy Easter. I really missed being at church and knowing what was going on. It was a kind of a lonely Easter in a way because I was reading through the gospels about Jesus’ death and resurrection and had no one else to exclaim, ‘Hi-5 for Jesus!’ with. But then again it was an Easter I’ll find hard to forget.

Summary- went to church with Nikolai (mumbling host dad) to get the koolich and yaitza (eggs) blessed. Went to buy candles, got busted for not wearing a head covering (eeeep). Lit a candle, burnt my wrist. Put koolich and yaitza onto the crowded table alongside everyone else in the scuffling mob. Stood in front row while holy water was doused on food and those in the front row. Waited till midnight thinking we were going to midnight mass. I was wrong. I went to bed. Easter Sunday- had yummy though surprisingly moderate lunch (only surprising as back in Sydney my great aunt uses Easter as a food Olympics and goes all out).

Had a girls’ night on Monday at City Bar where we enjoyed dinner and a cocktail. Though also had to endure the rowdy American restaurant owner who convinced us to wait for her marine friend,‘Girls, you are gonna luv him, luv him!’ When he did arrive, let’s just say…we did not. Racist, drunk and sleazy are not a flattering combination.

Tuesday night was also an experience. We were invited by the Aussie consulate to the ‘Australian film festival’. Enjoyed a Jacob’s Creek red (oh Australia!) and Russian-style canapés while meeting other Aussie expats. Then came the film. It was ‘Three Dollars’. But it wasn’t really. It was ‘Three Dollars’ dubbed over in Russian by one woman. Thus neither the Russians nor the English speakers knew what was going on. From what I can gather- David Wenham’s character lost his job, nearly has an affair and hangs out with a homeless guy.

2007-04-02T07:39:00.000+01:00

Just going for a quiet punt down the Novgorod river.

Bless. It's crazy flower lady who had quite the knack for walking in front of the majority of my shots.

Conspiring with the hippy and the glamour queen. Meaghan (up front), Emma and I.

My attempt at pavlova.

2007-04-01T09:56:00.000+01:00

Hello peeps,

Feeling really rebuked today. Just read Hayley’s blog and was really encouraged by the solid Christian ministry that is going on back home. Then re-read mine and realized that if you didn’t know me, you would have no idea that I’m a Christian. Also realized that there is a real absence of the gospel in Russia. Most of my Russian friends think that being a Christian is maybe going to church at Easter and lighting a candle. And maybe if they try to be good God will somehow be placated and impressed. It’s a strange paradox that a city filled with so many churches manages to feel so godless. Christ is reduced from an actual historical figure who claimed to be the Son of God (I’m sorry what?! How is that not an arrogant claim to make?) to an effeminate portrait hung in the corner of the living room.

Am looking forward to Russian Easter though. Funnily enough the topic of conversation between my host mum and I was…Russian Easter. Next Sunday we’ll have eggs, kooliche (sultana bread) and pascha (sweet cream cheese) and other such goodies. In broken Russian, with me running to get my dictionary mid-meal, we also talked about the costume party I went to last night and how she liked my USSR t-shirt.

So went to this party last night thrown by Marianna’s host sister and her bevy of Russian friends. From tsarina, to mafia, to hippy, to Arabian prince- each of us had a part and an aim to fulfil. I was a Communist and surprise, surprise I had to de-throne the tsar. I also wasn’t allowed to drink in front of anyone or talk to the caveman until he learnt to speak. I did manage to find my target of 7 allies but then was ‘poisoned’ by the hippy. Damn tree-hugger.

Furthermore, I managed to be a good, little tourist last week. Went to Novgorod last weekend, Peter & Paul’s Fortress on Friday and the Leningrad Blockade memorial on Saturday. We had such beautiful weather in Novgorod- blue skies and 15 degrees (t-shirt weather once we sat on the beach for a while). Loved watching the middle-aged women in bikinis paddle in the water while large chunks of melting ice floated past them. Also enjoyed the sight of three swimmer-clad ladies ‘gracefully’ mounting a large plate of ice, grabbing a long stick and using it as a raft. Complete TIR moment- ‘This is Russia.’

Oooh and I should clear up some misunderstandings:
-The security guard didn’t hurt me nor I him. As a matter of fact we’ve laughed it off and he now lets me into the school after a series of rando questions e.g. ‘In Australia, do you live in the desert?’ To which I reply, ‘Da’ or ‘Kaneshna’ (surely) and move on.
- I’m living in St Pete’s till June 7 teaching English at a university and nursery. Then I will go visit my Dad in London for a week before travelling Eastern Europe for three. Will be visiting family/family friends in Switzerland and France, getting arty with a friend in Paris for a week, then flying home July 27.
- I didn’t maim Nikita (ear flick boy) and I haven’t been prevented from teaching him again.

Have had a few twinges for Australia this week. Mum sent a rad care package that included Tim Tams- twinge. So great watching my host mum and Sasha’s reaction as they tried their first one! I taught them the straw/tea technique where you bite each end and sip your tea through it, making it gooey on the inside. They actually couldn’t say anything but ‘So delicious’ for the next ten minutes. Second twinge came while watching a video with the nursery kids. Lovely Lulu was showing Chuckles the monkey her room and I was caught out thinking- ‘But, but…I want to be in my room too’- twinge. While the latest one came when I attempted to cook pavlova. All was going well until it came time to bake. The oven was really, really hot so it cooked too quickly. I let it cool and attempted to put the cream and fruit on top. Cream went on nicely, ‘’Great!’ But when I put the fruit on, the cake shivered…then flattened- ‘So, um…this is an Australian dessert.’

2007-03-23T17:30:00.000Z

Highlights package

- Monday night: Aussie embassy invited us to an Aussie expat composer’s concert. Ok, sounds good. Some classical in such a cultured city would go down a treat. Two and half hours of experimental strings later…my ears are burning and I’m looking for an exit or an open window.
- Wednesday: slight confrontation with security guard at the primary school where I do Russian. That’s right, I’m now suddenly a pervert and am going to take advantage of the children during their lessons. Saved by explanation of a passing teacher.
- Friday: much, much bigger confrontation with security guard. May or may not have involved him not letting me through, me attempting to push past and me being pushed back. I then may or may not have used all my sturdy five foot something of power to ram him. I then may or may not have been picked up and taken outside. I may or may not have been yelling in English and kicking furiously. The door may or may not have been locked in order to keep me out.

Moral of the story-

If you are only about 5’3 or 5’4, it’s highly unlikely that a man over 6 foot with a rather substantial chip on his shoulder will be overpowered by you. Thus ensure you attend a crotch punching class and seek revenge at your next meeting.

Hi Mum.

Until then, I will try to stay out of trouble. Am going to Novgorod to see the other GAPpers this weekend and celebrate Jana’s birthday. So to those I owe emails- thanks heaps for thinking of me and be sure that I’ll respond as soon as I get back!

2007-03-19T05:25:00.000Z

Things that amused/emotionally scarred me this week:

-Making French toast and suddenly realizing that I had completely smoked out the kitchen. My host mum eventually followed the smell from her room to the kitchen to find me apologetically grinning at the table amidst the smoke.

-Finally trying a pancake from ‘Tёlemok’- the roadside bellini hut. Amazink! Chocolate and banana. Enough said.

-Having a 17 year old student check out my goodies not once, not twice but thrice in the space of 30 seconds. I was just trying to explain to him the phrase, “It’s raining cats and dogs”! Resolved to wear moo moo to that class from now on.

-Having a 5 year old have a good, old, deliberate cough in my face. My response= flicking his ear with maximum force. Realized that probably wasn’t a good idea. Was thankful that child protection laws are so lax here.

-Realizing that the girls I’m traveling with through Eastern Europe are a Brit and a Canadian. This isn’t a problem in itself. The problem occurs when you combine the three of us- “A Brit, a Canadian and an Australian walk into a bar…” We are doomed to be a walking, talking bad joke.

-Taking a contraband photo in the Hermitage and being schooled by the guard lady. What was I supposed to do?! It was Degas!

-Seeing a ridiculously emo band play at MOD bar while my friend Hayley got frustrated at the bartender for not understanding her broken Russian- “How can she not understand the word ‘vodka’?! It’s her national drink!”

2007-03-12T16:53:00.000Z

An acrostic poem to describe my last week. It is entitled- LAST WEEK.

L atino bar on Wednesday.
A night of ‘Family Guy’, ‘The Simpsons’ and ‘Whose Line…’- in English! There is a God.
S t Isaac’s Cathedral on Saturday. Climbed to the top and enjoyed an amazing view of the city.
T rapped in flat when only person at home was asleep. And by asleep I do mean dead to the world. E.G. I knocked, I entered, I called out, I came closer, I yelled, I yelled again, I gave up and skipped uni.

W omen’s Day on Thurday. Celebrated with a late lunch and presents for the ladies.
E xercised at Sasha’s gym. That means I can eat whatever I want, right?
E ek, that’s awkard. Had to crash in room with couple rather keen on each other.
K ids on crac.

2007-03-08T16:15:00.000Z

My host sisters Sasha and Valia. This was taken over a month ago just outside our apartment block. Front and centre is their friend Diana.

Walking ON the Neva River. It's above zero temperatures now so probably would be less safe. I was running around wherever I wanted until my sisters pulled me aside and basically asked if I had a death wish.

"Why?" I asked.

"Well, there is such thing as weak ice. Stop being a knob and follow other people's footprints."

Ok- so that isn't a direct quote, but the tone is spot on.

A picture Valia had told me to take. Direct quote- "You may take a photo now, Grace."

Oh cool, so I have a choice in the matter.

In the foreground is a small Russian Orthodox church near our flat and in the background is our apartment block. Magnify the image and you'll see Sasha and my bedroom on the 3rd level, furthest left. Boo-yeah.

2007-03-04T13:14:00.000Z

Very frustrated. Noticed that in my last post, I wrote, “I went to the Moscow”. Tried to edit it, but computer won’t let me. I know this may be a really finicky thing to care about, but I can’t help but care. Some Russians make the mistake of putting ‘the’ in front of place and country names e.g. ‘the Germany’ or ‘the Paris’. The fact that I (a native English speaker who has been trying to teach the students at uni not to do this) then go and make the same mistake is just a little bit embarrassing.

So…Moscow. It was fine. Look, it’s good that I saw all the tourist sites but sadly it’s a city that lacks heart. Every second person speaks English and I found myself missing St Pete’s. However, I did meet some ridiculous people. It might be a bit tedious to go through the weekend because, let’s admit it, I’m not as interesting as I wish I were. Instead I’ll give you the highlights package. A recipe for a unique time in a foreign city=

Ingredients
- A large dose of Gen, Hayley, Marianna and Grace
- A small measure of Daniel (a Russian who, despite no English and our limited Russian, decided we were his new best friends in the train’s waiting room)
- A hostel that was really just a glorified flat with bunk beds
- A larger dose of Morgan, Mitch, Lauren and Jana
- A quantity of Red Square including seeing Lenin, St Basil’s Cathedral and the Kremlin
- A nonchalant, middle-aged Finnish man. The only words I said to him the whole time were, “I’m so sorry for the noise”
- A very British gentleman and his Russian Internet girlfriend, Natalia. Yuck, yuck, yuck.
- Two Germans, Axel and Phillip, who we initiated into our group as honorary Australians. The token love interests for Jana and Lauren.
- Gen’s unrequited love interest- ‘Portugal’
- ‘Brazil’ who spent the whole time on his mobile demanding a visa to Latvia. Get over it dude, they don’t want you in their country.
- A couple of home cooked meals that had varying degrees of success
- A night at a bar that used to be a textiles factory
- One dinner at a completely cow-print, cafeteria-style restaurant. I accidentally bought a cheese-covered steak that I mistakenly thought was an omlette. Why do it?
- One train trip home in a sleeper carriage with two Russian babas (grandmas, not a variation of babes) that decided to made our beds. One even went so far as to tuck me in. Thanks Luda ;)
- 15 minutes outside the toilet at 4:30am. Various Russians attempted to tell me something but I palmed it off as, “They’re Russian, I’m tired, and it’s too early.” Finally, a Russian version of Jonathan Rhys Myers comes up to me and starts talking and making gestures. Trying to look my early morning, haven’t-slept-all-night best, I explain in rubbish Russian that I don’t understand and am Australian. Feeling slightly weak at the knees, it probably took me 10 minutes longer than it should have to understand what he was saying. Basically, there wasn’t anyone in the toilet, it was locked, maybe you should go back to your seat and wait till we get to the station. Embarrassed, I forgot to thank him and ran away like the little pansy that I am.
- A hurried dash to catch my second train home to Kolpino, only to find myself waiting another 10 minutes inside the carriage. Smooth.

Method
- Combine all ingredients in liberal fashion

- Ensure you act like a complete klutz for the majority of the trip

2007-03-04T13:04:00.000Z

2007-03-04T13:01:00.000Z

2007-03-02T16:47:00.000Z

BAH! Have so much to tell you, but it’s been a bit hectic. Went to the Moscow over the weekend and found it interesting to say the least. Details to follow.

But just to tide you over, here’s something I prepared earlier…and then forgot to post.

10 things I love about St Petersburg…

1. Sitting on the wide window ledge in my bedroom. I could spend hours watching people walking in the park, getting on and off the bus and just getting on with their lives while I quietly listen to my iPod.

2. How welcoming my host family is. Two weeks ago, I was invited to come to their Baba’s (Grandma’s) 77th birthday lunch/dinner. Repeatedly, Baba Leeda told me that I was a good girl and that she loved me. A koala key ring and attempts at Russian always help the cause. Despite my minimal Russian, I managed to feel a part of the conversation due to their active efforts to include me. They were especially warm and maybe even a little bit impressed when I didn’t cry after trying my first taste of real Russian vodka. It’s paint stripper.

3. How one friend of the family thinks that if she speaks loudly in Russian that I’ll understand her.

4. Misunderstandings. Like when I finally realized why I had caused so much confusion in several shops. I had been asking for cotton wool and not water, ‘bata’ instead of ‘boda’. I also enjoyed my host sister Valia telling me that the item in front of me was ‘fart milk’ instead of ‘fat milk’ i.e. cream.

5. How efficient the metro is. One train comes every 1-2 minutes. Will find it very hard to re-adjust to Sydney trains when I return.

6. Cherry juice.

7. Drinking tea without milk most meals. Very comforting.

8. Talking with my host mum. She’ll say something to me in Russian, I’ll run get my dictionary, take five minutes to figure out what she said, answer her question and be rewarded with a big smile, ‘Mol lot dyest’ (well done) and when I’m lucky- a blink. No one winks. Blinks are the rage.

9. The number of special days. It seems every few days Sasha will ask me, “Don’t you celebrate in Australia?” 9 times out of 10, the answer will be, “No”. Except in the case of Valentine’s Day, which was only introduced to Russia 4 or 5 years ago.

10. Getting emails from home, meeting other native English speakers and the misuse of the English language e.g. ‘Apple-bottoms’ on the back of a girl’s jacket.

2007-02-15T14:55:00.000Z

FRIDAY:

Had Russian lessons in the afternoon, in which we played a ‘game’ of matching Slavic names with their nicknames e.g. ‘Vladimir’ becomes ‘Vova’. Thus validating the belief that in Russia you are born with one name, then called something else for the rest of your life. I have even experienced this. It seems the name ‘Grace’ is quite hard for a lot of Russians to say. I either end up being called ‘Gay’ or ‘Grey’. So when I offer my middle name ‘Galina’ as an alternative, around 70% of candidates will use it.

Most of the other GAPpers headed to Novgorod or Moscow over the weekend. Only Hayley, Marianna, Gen and I remained as none of us felt like we knew St Pete’s well enough to go forsake it for another city. So we did what all self-respecting girls would do…

We went to Baskins & Robbins.

As the snow fell outside, we looked out onto Nevsky Prospekt and ate our sundaes. It’s pretty tough here.

We then headed to a lounge bar, where Hayley and I shared a bottle of an Australian shiraz called ‘Kangaroo Paw’ and felt more than a twinge of patriotism. $50 later, we realized they knew we were foreigners. Dang- is our blank staring at the menu such a dead giveaway?

SATURDAY:

Laidback day spent buying an Internet card, reading Esther, listening to a sermon on it by David Cook, learning some Russian vocab and hanging out in the kitchen with my host mum. Got ready to go out and headed to Gen’s in Prosveshcheniya.

Did a Dicksie’s run (the local supermarket that supplies alcohol to minors no questions asked…welcome to Russia). Took our bounty of snacks, rubbish red wine, mediocre champagne and unmentionable cranberry/metholated spirits concoction and hung out in her flat.

Eventually headed to the local shopping centre that was celebrating its first birthday. Was surprised to find an Irish pub, a pool hall and a club inside. Went to the club (called Metropolis, taking its entire décor from the futuristic film of the same title) and tried an absinthe.

They make a real show of it. They first set alight two brandy glasses, turn them upside down and put each over the shot of absinthe. The absinthe changes from a blanched yellow colour to a bright green. They put the brandy glasses upright again, cover them with serviettes and stick a straw through the serviette. You then proceed to suck up the remaining smoke and take the shot. Kind of bitter, but very tasty. And no I didn’t go into a bohemian, hallucinogenic fit of creativity. After reading an article in the Good Weekend about contemporary absinthe distilleries that use traditional methods, it seems to me that absinthe has just been a given a bad wrap for 19th century degeneracy. In reality, any impoverished Parisian artists, who combined alcohol and drugs, really didn’t place themselves on the road to reality in the first place. Sooner or later, one of them was bound to see a green fairy.

Another fun fact- Russian men…still completely unappealing. Maybe when harassment becomes a form of flirtation for me, I’ll change my mind.

MONDAY-THURSDAY:

Have only worked twice this week at two different nurseries. Will make sure I post photos of devil child and some of the other kids when my care factor is more than the temperature (currently -7). Pretty cruisy week as we get our permanent timetables tomorrow and so the old timetable has kind of been disregarded.

Went to a sushi restaurant for lunch today. De-briefed on everyone's weekends and upcoming plans for a weekend in Moscow. Had sashimi- it seemed the right thing to do.

2007-02-10T10:14:00.000Z

One of my favourite Matisse paintings from the Hermitage. This photo really doesn't do it justice.
A Claude Manet. I was standing in front of it when this Russian lady came up and started chatting to me about it. I tried to indulge her as much as I could. However, in the end I had to insist that I really didn't understand what she was saying.
One of the ballrooms in the Hermitage.
A hot chocolate. So disgusting. It was literally melted chocolate. Not nice, Max Brenner type chocolate but rather bitter, dirty cocoa.
Church of Spilled Blood

2007-02-09T08:18:00.000Z

Russian was an infallibly attractive language to me before I came to visit Saint Pete’s. However, after investing a lot of my time in riding the city’s transport system, it appears my unwavering love of the Russian language was misguided. Teenage girls, who tend to travel in packs of five or six, can be found on many buses or metros systematically tainting their mother tongue. High pitched squealing and excitable monologues tend to do that. In fact, my faith in teenage girls extends so far as to claim that- any language that you may find slightly alluring, will be aurally butchered by these crafty creatures.

Yet I persevere. The Russian language, as spoken by the majority of the city’s population, is still a rich, emotive way of speaking that I really enjoy being surrounded by. My Russian lessons started on Wednesday and I have my second one today. For the next few months, I’ll continue to take two a week, ensuring I make some headway. I found out on Wednesday that the printed and written forms of Russian are actually very, very different. Almost like two different alphabets. Sweet.

Apart from minutely improving my Russian, this week I have been working a few hours here and there at three different nurseries and the dreaded primary school (where yesterday we sat in on five lessons, doing absolutely nothing…apparently their English doesn’t need improving). Surprisingly, am quite enjoying teaching five year olds. My respect continues to grow for mothers, as the stamina required to keep up with them is unparalleled.

Sorry, for those whose emails I have yet to reply to. I’m not too cool for you. Finding time to get my hands on the computer at home has been a little hard lately and it’s often a balancing act to figure out who gets to use the Internet or phone line.

Am really looking forward to the upcoming week. As Spring is approaching, all of next week will celebrate its arrival with…pancakes. Thank you Jesus. Yet I feel like my end of the bargain isn’t being held up. I’ve tasted all these amazing Russian delights, but am yet to show them what Australian cuisine holds. Any recipes for Anzac cookies, pavlova etc. will be readily accepted.

2007-02-06T09:28:00.000Z

Seeing as my romantic prospects in St Pete’s are slim to none, I seem to have become a pawn in other people’s love lives. For example…

Sunday night, after a weekend spent in bed fighting a cold, I was made to visit Ludmilla’s friend’s house with her and Sasha. Not feeling particularly alert, was surprised to find out that the thin premise we were there was that I supposedly wanted to watch a DVD in English on the friend’s son’s computer. Right.

Basically, it was a ‘courting’ opportunity for the son and Sasha. While I was watching ‘Step Up’, they chattered away in Russian. Really magical way to get to know each other, right? Especially with me sitting between them!

But that wasn’t too bad in comparison to what happened after. When the movie finished, we all had some tea together. However, Russian tradition calls for you to be uber-generous to your guests. So I had jam (you eat it straight), cream cakes and chocolate piled onto my plate. Now this could be great…if I wasn’t feeling sick as a dog and if the quantities hadn’t been in litres rather than a spoonful or two.

Sad to say, the whole well thought out event didn’t have the desired effect. Neither party was interested.

2007-02-05T18:40:00.000Z

The theatre where we saw 'The Nutcracker'.
My second night in St Pete's with (l-r) Hayley (my hostel room buddy), Marianna, Lauren and Morgan.
The view from our hostel window. Note- this was 9 in the morning.
Outside the Hermitage.

Lauren, me and Hayley.

2007-01-30T17:26:00.000Z

I can't believe how anal I am. I read over my last post and edited it for grammar and spelling errors. I'm such a joke.

Last two days have been quite confronting. I had kind of forgotten that the reason I'm here is to teach English and not just to learn Russian. We've visited the primary school and three nurseries (that is, kindergartens) we'll be working at for the next two weeks.

The primary school was hiiii-larious. Boys sport mullets as if it actually was really cool. While the girls...well, they're too embarrassed to even talk. Highly frustrating.

The nurseries were pretty fun too. There were only 4 children, all under 4, at the first one. They're being taught English but of course mix it with Russian. For example, counting. While Susha and I were counting to five "po Angleeski", the response I received was:
"One, dva, three, chateeri, piatz..."
Ah, so close but so far. Well, 2 out of 5 ain't bad.

And now for a concise unordered dictionary of Russian lifestyle idiosyncrasies;

Dill= A herb seldom used in Australian cuisine. In Russia, this pungent additive is used as both a garnish and as a stock element of many meals. One wonders, "Would you like some food with your dill?"

High heeled boots= As Russian women outnumber Russian men 1.8 to 1, they must increase their physical attractiveness through the misogynistic construct of high heels. Their already sprightly bodies are considered to be more desirable when wearing these tiny, self-inflicted torture devices. Yet this belief does not stop in the public sphere. It extends to the domestic sphere where all female parties wear high-heeled slippers around the house. This, of course, gives the most advantageous aspect to their childbearing figures. Supposedly, this view is given whilst they sweep the floor and cook their husband’s dinner.

Water= An expendable resource that should be treated with disdain. Do with it what you will. If it is your pleasure to wash the dishes with no plug in the sink, go nuts. If it is your pleasure to let the tap run freely for no apparent reason, knock yourself out. As a matter of fact, if you have a moderate or even mild sense of environmental awareness, be warned that making any minor objection in Russia is parallel to being a Greenpeace volunteer who puts their own body in front of a harpoon to save the whales.

Recycling= I beg your pardon?

Bin= The rubbish container. A holder of trash that can only be emptied in the morning as removing said litter would certainly result in the offending family running out of finances. Death cannot be ruled out either.

Vegetarians= A wild minority who by very nature are tree hugging, hemp smoking freedom fighters. Calling yourself a vegetarian is equal to claiming that printers have emotions. An animal is of the same value as an exercise book. They are just a lot tastier.

2007-01-28T12:08:00.000Z

Last night, I finally moved in with my host family. I am staying in Kolpino, which is past the industrial area and on the outskirts of the city. It is currently -13 and snowing. Everything looks really magical and I keep annoying my host sister Sasha by commenting on how pretty everything is, "Grace, it's a shop. Get over it."

The rest of my host family have been really welcoming as well. There is Valia and Jenia (Sasha's sister and her boyfriend) who speak no English. Though when I got into his car, after driving to the airport and finding out that the backpack that the airport thought was mine actually wasn't, I was comforted by Jenia's deadpan statement, "Don't worry, be happy."

My host parents are very sweet as well. Nikolai and Ludmilla. Doesn't that just say everything? Nikolai works at a security firm and is a published poet, while Ludmilla is a housewife who specializes in cooking amazing food. For example, last night's dinner.

Schee- cababage and carrot soup
Carrot perogi- carrot pastry
Mashed potato and pickled vegetables

Then there was dessert...whoever thought that Russians don't eat dessert were mistaken. They go to town.

We had pascka perogi which is a sweet cream cheese and sultana pastry. However pastry isn't the right word. It's more solid and quite unique to anything I've ever had.

Today, I spent the day getting to know the local supermarkets and shops in Kolpino. I'm slowly replacing all the things that were in my backpack as it seems that in fact I won't get it back. This so far has been the worst aspect of the trip, but luckily I've been blessed with a very generous family who are keen to help me out.

My Russian is still pretty poor, but I'm learning bits and pieces. For example, our final night together in St Pete's, the group decided to go to Metro Club. A 3 leveled club that played Euro trash, R&B and house music. There I learnt how to say "I am from Australia" and "I am drinking alcohol". Wow, getting educated in a bar. Welcome to Russia.

2007-01-24T17:41:00.000Z

St Petersburg is a land of complete contradiction. Toilets are so small that you start to hyperventilate while palaces are so large that you wouldn't rule out holding a football game in one ballroom.

Am loving the diverse temperature range. -2 to -10...who needs warmth anyway? As a matter of fact, why breath? The people are pretty funny as well. On the street people act as cold as the weather. It's a rarity to see a Russian crack a smile. But when you befriend one, it's awesome. For example, the cleaning ladies at our hostel. I feel like I've learnt more Russian from these wonderful, blue vest wearing, cuddly women than I have from our daily Russian lessons. It all started on the first morning when I skillfully managed to fall over one of the chairs and smash my bowl of porridge. The lady was straight to the rescue and helped me find the word I was looking for...sorry.

"Iz-vi-nit-ye?"
"Da, da...very iz-vi-nit-ye."

Went to the Hermitage today- wow. Spent most of my time in the French wing with Cezanne, Manet, Matisse and Picasso. Life is good.

Am getting along with everyone quite well. My roommate Hayley and I have been having a lot of fun and it's hard to believe we only met last Friday.

Sorry, still struggling to figure out how to upload photos as most of the computer text is in Russian. Boo-yeah.

Fact for the day- Russian road rules depend on the car you drive. For example, if you drive a BMW, you can go on red lights. Makes you think, right?

2007-01-22T17:09:00.000Z

Have been in St Pete's for 3 days now and apart from this crap internet cafe, am loving it.

Unfortunately, my backpack was lost in transit and it may be a week or two before I get it back. On a positive note, met my host sister (Sasha/Alexandra) the night I arrived. Really nice and has a pretty good grasp of English.

Sunday- attempted to buy boots so I could get classy. All the women are really well dressed, so you feel pretty frumpy in a ski jacket while they are wearing figure hugging coats. The men are not so classy.

We've had several orientation things and they\re not really worth mentioning. Just think- what to do and not to do in Russia. For example, don't drink the water. What do I do? Take a big old drink in the shower. Nice.

Went to the ballet last night. It was the Nutcracker. Beautiful. The theatre itself was stunning, let alone the ballet. Will post photos when I'm not so frustrated at the Russians and the crap techno that is currently surrounding me.

Today, had a lesson in how to teach English to Russians. Very helpful. Can't wait to start working. Was supposed to go to the Hermitage this afternoon, but it was closed. So went to the Russian Museum instead. Amazing art in an old palace; will go back with Sasha later to appreciate it more.

Food is great and quite cheap. Am enjoying the buffet breakfasts at the hostel, but feel that all teh walking we are doing is counteracting it. So, really I'm having my cake and eating it too....literally.

Hope you are all well. Feel free to email and I'll try to reply as soon as possible- g_demorgan@hotmail.com

2006-12-20T10:47:00.000Z

So here are my thoughts- I'm going to Russia for 5 months and I really should retain some contact with loved ones. Admittedly, while blogging does feel like a self-serving cyber monologue, it probably is a better option than group emails. To my rationale, it often seems that group emails are pushed onto people who in reality don't really care what you're doing or where you are. Blogs, on the other hand, force the user to make an active effort to read the other person's misguided insights about travelling. And seeing as I don't particularly want to force affection on any unwilling recipients, I can easily justify this blog. Enjoy.