Strange questions for a strange gal.

For some reason, the colder and darker it gets the less frequent the buses are. Thankfully, the weather is being kind and it hasn’t gotten too cold...yet. Hovering above zero degrees with blue skies, even if we did have an afternoon sprinkle of snow the other day, it's pretty warm for November so I can’t complain. 

With it being a bank holiday yesterday and today and lectures being cancelled, I have been able to spend the evening writing this sat in the window of a nearby cafe. (I still spent the day at the piano, don't you worry.) I found myself reflecting on the name of yesterday’s national holiday - The Day of National Unity. A holiday that was celebrated up until the 1917 revolution and again from 2005. I have found myself wondering about the importance of a country having such a holiday. As far as I am aware, there is no equivalent in England - if anything St. Patrick’s day is ironically more unifying there than anything else - whereas, in Canada, I would say that Canada Day is the day that really brings the nation together - this year I felt well and truly unified as I sang the Canadian national anthem dressed in red and white in a country music bar on the west coast. However, to an extent, in a country that is often misunderstood and misrepresented, and where the majority of the population tend to feel alienated from ‘progressive’ Europe, a holiday of national unity might be just what the people need. I would say that England could definitely do with one given the current situation there. It’s not a question of being patriotic or not, and it’s not a question of unifying against anything else. It’s purely the idea of respect for each other - seeing that we are not that different from one another. Respect for cultural traits you share and a common origin and history that defines many parts of the way a nation lives. 

One the funnest - please take this slightly sarcastically - things about living here and being the only English person (and one of only a few Europeans) studying at Academy is that people seem to find me curiously fascinating… not because I’m particularly interesting but more in a stranger/alien-kind of way. People always seem to have a favourite question to ask me, from “Why are you here? We want to go to Europe and you’ve decided to come here and stay, why?” when I first arrived, to asking why my "rubbish” is washed and separated, leading on to “Why do you recycle?”. From “How do you live without meat? What do you eat?” [I recently created a new Instagram account - in Russian - to deal with this one], and the classic “Why do you drink your tea with milk?” to asking if everyone in England talks like they do in Peaky Blinders and how I describe Russia to my friends when I go back. 

Oddly enough, the new favourite stems from COMPLETE confusion about my having a double-barrelled first name. It seems to cause so many issues, which is especially bizarre considering I have been studying with the same people for two years now… why have they only started questioning this now? My favourite is “Why did your mum call you that?” - if anyone can come up with a brilliantly witty reply to this question (baring in mind the less subtle Russian humour) there are tickets to my first solo concert up for grabs. [No set date for this as of yet, but some time in future I can assure you.] 

Russian names do have a fairly standard format that, for reasons as of yet unbeknown to me, no one seems to deviate from; you have your first name, your patronymic name and your surname. Whereas in the UK and in Canada* the number of middle names is limitless with the standard being around 1 or 2, I have yet to meet a Russian that has a middle name in addition to their patronymic name. In my case, as names are shortened with people younger than you or people you are familiar with, the confusion then comes from people not knowing whether to called me Sasha (from Alexandra) or Masha (from Maria). The variations of Sasha, Masha, Sashamasha, Mashasasha, Alexandramasha (I could go on) that I get are endless. 

The beauty of this shortening of names means that are several variations on someone’s name that can be used in different situations to show various degrees of formality, informality, affection and/or annoyance. Informally, Maria can become Masha, Mashka, Mashenka, Maryusa; Ekaterina becomes Katya, Katyusha, Katka. Then you have the ones that I find quite baffling, which are not shorter than the original or, for that matter, very similar to the original such as Vladimir - Volodia, or Natalia - Natasha. However, go for formality and things become much trickier. The confusion for me really starts in having to remember two names for everyone, and then making sure I get them the right way around. When I first moved, I could never remember if my piano teacher was Vladimir Pavlovich or Pavel Vladimirovich. Was my Head of Department Sergei Evgeniovich or Evgeni Sergeevich? What was really rather amusing for my fellow classmates was a source of constant stress and worry and add to that the issue of pronunciation - try saying Tatiana Anatolievna or Aleksandr Artemovich in a Russian accent in a hurry. This way of addressing any one older than you or to whom you would need to show respect means that you can guarantee that you're dealing with a name of at least 5 syllables from the get-go. A far cry from the monosyllabic Daves, Bob's, James's, or John's of yesteryear. Although Bob Bobobvich does has a certain ring to it. 

Lots of love from,

Sashamashaalexsamashka xxx 



*I cannot speak for other countries but will very willingly take comments on board and make any necessary additions.

beautiful tactics by the Mosfilm Film Studio
 to avoiding a parking ticket

beautiful autumn (before they cleaned the leaves up..
workers get paid by the bag to clean up leaves!
Unfortunately, it's an ongoing battle...)

beautiful embassy of Brazil
around the corner from academy

beautiful organ in one of the main
(and my favourite) concert halls in Moscow;
where I somehow managed to convince
the administrator to give me a free ticket for a 
6th row seat to a sold-out concert..

Feeling Raf and Ready.

Back to Moscow, back to real life and the smell of pine tar in my trousers from an August spent sauna-building*, which I got sick of at the time, now puts a smile on my face as it transports me instantaneously back to the paradise that holds such a strong place in my heart and where I spent such a beautiful two months. Although, the weather here has been absolutely glorious and if I didn’t know better I would say that summer is only just beginning. 

I’ve just spent the last couple hours re-reading old Russia posts during my time here. So many things about living here still surprise me that I wanted to make sure I wasn’t repeating myself… apart from talking about croissants in at least four posts, it seems I’m in the clear. 

[I must admit that even now my day is orientated around when I get my daily breakfast of a coffee and croissant, and that I can rank the best coffees and croissants within a 10-minute walking radius of the academy, depending on your favourite flavour. I’ve always been someone whose day is brightened by even the smallest of moments; I find it very comforting that the guy at my favourite coffee place near academy (57p/98¢ for a cappuccino on par with an Italian one) not only remembers my order but also remembers I get it without a plastic lid. You’d be surprised but one thing Russians really do know how to do is good coffee. They have even developed their own type of coffee adding a favourite Russian ingredient that is present in much of what they eat - sugar. The phenomenon of “Raf” coffee (pronounced ‘rough’) took me a while to figure out but recently I finally saw one being made… One shot of espresso and a shot of sugary syrup of your choosing (salted caramel or lavender seems to be favourite around here) topped to the brim, baring in mind they are only sold in medium or large sizes, with frothy cream. Yes, not milk, CREAM. SINGLE CREAM. You are drinking 350ml or 450ml - well minus 20ml for the coffee - of sugar and frothy single cream. GOOD MORNING MOSCOW. Super-charged and ready to roll.] 

Anyway, one post dated 6th December 2015, titled “Stereotypes” made me laugh: 

“I am told that in Moscow the pace of life is even faster. You can have ten meetings a day in various parts of the city (which nearly doubles the area of London) and still have time for dinner and film in the evening!” 

How little did I know that I would end up living in Moscow for what will be almost 4 years…and that Moscow is exactly as I described it: busy and non-stop. I plan my days to the half-hour to fit in as much as possible as I try to make the most of this vibrant, culturally very dynamic, beautiful metropolis I live in and I find it gives me the push to do even more. Daily physiotherapy means taking the bus past academy through the centre every morning and I don’t think I will ever tire of getting that prized window seat on the way in as I ride past the Bol’shoy Theatre on my left, and Red Square and the Kremlin on my right. 

Although… the city does tend to have a way of really keeping you on your toes and even the very experienced Moscovite can be caught unawares. Often even the most well, tightly-planned days end up being the ones where you spend a lot of time running (not literally) around the city but getting very little done. Traffic, lack of centralised organisation within institutions and lots of people not really knowing what they’re talking about as well as quite a few that just can’t be bothered to do their jobs are amongst some of the factors that are generally to blame. Oh and traffic. Did I mention that? When the 6+ lane roads were built through and around the centre of Moscow, cars were few and far between but now it seems they weren’t built quite wide enough. Luckily, free Wifi for all on all public transport means that you can always keep people up-to-date on your whereabouts - listening to someone trying to have a phone conversation while riding in a very noisy metro carriage never fails to be entertaining. 

(Here, I suggest you refer back to the ‘Moscow Mule’ post about Russians not being aware of the ‘missed call’ function on their phones: http://arussianabroad.blogspot.com/2016/10/ ) 

Having said that, the city is becoming steadily kinder to its citizens and it’s amazing how much she continues to change and modernise at an alarming pace. Some things, such as all the signs in the metro being updated to also contain station names and exit signs in English, were understandably done for the World Cup. However, the new quiet metro trains with charging ports and interactive map-screens point to an exciting future with technological aspects in the city being far ahead of its European counterparts. In an attempt to change the Russian mentality of outdoor space just being a means to get between home and work and to encourage its citizens to enjoy outdoor public areas and the city they live in, outside spaces are transformed with the seasons and various public holidays. This last month saw a maze of plants, shrubs and trees brought in along Новый Арбат (Novey Arbat - the main street near my academy) with kiosks selling second-hand books for 100 roubles (currently £1.14/CAD$1.96) scattered among the greenery: a wonderful site in the centre of Moscow separating pedestrians from a very, busy road. Various giant swings and hammocks have been hung in a few key squares and streets throughout the city, while a variety of light-up structures pop up regularly inviting a wave of very similar-looking Instagram pictures but very much fulfilling their purpose. These installations range from sparkling mini Red Squares to a 100-metre long star-shaped tunnel of light, from grass animal sculptures to mini climbing walls in the shape of letters spelling out street names. 

colourful beanbag hangout 

Some institutions in the city do seem to be taking longer to play catch-up, my academy included. A decision to drastically change our curriculum, taking away a number of so-called ‘useless’ subjects and adding a couple new ones, four days after this academic year had already started reminded me that organisation here still leaves a lot to be desired and not all parts of Russian society are developing as quickly as others. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised when the library catalogue is still very much 'analogue' with index cards typed individually (seemingly on a typewriter) and sorted into tens of little wooden drawers and stacked along the wall of the reading room in the back corner of the questionably-built mansard. Getting something from the library (the door optimistically marked “library” opens up to a metre-squared space to stand in at a counter with two women behind it) involves filling out a slip with your book request while the librarians find your flimsy library ID card from a filing cabinet behind them and just picking a due date from the calendar hanging on the wall. It turns out I’m such a geek these days that one of the librarians knows me by name and regularly greets me in the hallway and outside academy (though I find this mildly crossing the line).

mysterious door leading to the 'bibliotek'

inside the mysterious 'bibliotek'

However, we recently found out that this lack of central, official system in academy can be absolutely played to our advantage. Exams for non-performance subjects are down to the teachers and certain teachers are known for being stricter than others. While Philosophy, History of Art and Aesthetics are generally feared for being almost impassible on the first try with a huge number of requirements from teachers before you even get to the exam, some teachers are much more flexible and simply require attendance. This was the case with a new subject recently added to our timetable, where the teacher asked how many lessons we thought would be necessary as the minimum attendance requirement to pass the course with an автомат (av-to-mat; automatic pass). What a wonderful system when the students can decide the minimum attendance rate. When he later asked the (in retrospect perhaps rhetorical) question on how to make students want to study of their own accord, being the keen student I have now become, I piped up that all the teacher needed to do was to find an interesting way to talk about the subject. His reply of “well, it’s hard to make this subject interesting” got a laugh from the class but made us realise we should have suggested a much lower minimum attendance rate…At least I’m already 50% of the way there.

Chat very very soon…exciting projects coming up, which I look forward to sharing with you. 

Masha xx 

*(technically баня-buildling pronounced ban-ya)

Time.

This is now my 3rd winter in Russia (I have stayed much longer than I originally planned), yet I still get excited as ever when heavy snow starts to fall and cover the city in a glistening blanket of white, transforming it into a magical wonderland before your eyes. I still look on in astonishment as hoards of workers in head-to-toe bright orange arctic gear appear as if from nowhere within minutes, like ants after a storm, snow shovels in hand - they have been waiting and this is their moment. I feel like a child as a I get a kick from hearing the roar of the 20-long line of industrial-sized snow ploughs, tearing through the main roads of central Moscow leaving a wall of snow in their wake, and as they pass I look on with a huge grin on my face. Within days, courtyards, pavements and roads are cleared, huge piles of snow on street corners are loaded into dump trucks and taken out of sight, and life in Moscow ploughs steadily on without even batting an eyelid.

A couple days later, white snow clouds lighten the night sky and you know you're in for a treat.

Although, that's not to say that I'm a big fan of cold climates. I once again took advantage of having January off to get as far south as my bank account would allow and I ended up spending a couple weeks in Italy. Five years after I first fell in love, my heart is never far from the wonderful country. I had only been to Rome twice before for short, touristy trips and I was intrigued to see how "living" there would compare with Bologna. Admittedly, after so much time in Russia, it took me a few days to adjust to the pace of life - very relaxed - and to afternoon closing times between lunch and dinner. When expressing my surprise that a local store that had clearly said "open all hours" was closed when I stopped by in the evening, my friend explained that that simply meant it was open during napping hours in the afternoon... I soon had the main stops on the two metro lines memorised and I learnt to not trust "arrival times" at metro stations or bus stops - Italian minutes seem to have a funny way of being able to last anything between 50 and 150 seconds.

Joking aside, I was reminded of two important messages I had long forgotten since moving away. Family and Time.

The people I met working at the recording studio next door to where I was practising every day were shocked to hear I was planning to come in on Sundays. "What about family day?" they asked. "You shouldn't be practising on a Sunday...it's a day of rest and for spending time at home with your family." With a family that travels and works constantly and living in a city that never sleeps and where working days can easily be 12 hours long, I had to take a minute to let it sink in and then quickly try to explain myself... "in Russia, blah blah blah". Not surprisingly, my explanations were met with looks of amusement and disbelief.

A common and popular conversation topic between people from different countries is often stereotypes. During the first of a few magical al fresco lunches in the magnificent Roman winter sun I was treated to while I was there, this topic came up and I was asked if it was generally assumed that Italians never do any work. A smile in response answered the question for them, but I was quick to add, that with weather and food like they have, who's to blame them? Later that afternoon, I took a quick break from playing and walked into the next room to find everyone (six or so men) standing around chatting without a care in the world - I did a coffee round and joined in, trying to catch on to their Roman lingo. As one of the them was about to leave, I joked as kindly as possible: "and they say that Italians never do any work..". Putting his helmet on, he smiled, looked me in the eyes and said, "I don't live to work, I work to live."

The general concept of Time is that we have lots of it, but it is also precious and every minute should be enjoyed. Whether that be having an espresso with friends, relaxed lunch breaks in the winter sun, making that effort to pick some fresh chilli's from the garden for lunch, taking that detour to stop by the best place for pistachio croissants, working half-days to spend time with your family or taking time out of your busy teaching day to introduce a newcomer to fellows colleagues and musicians, it is about really respecting the time we are given. When I tell people my age at academy in Moscow, they frown and and give me a look of concern, commenting that I'm quite late on in the game and instilling in me a great sense of urgency to press on. In Italy, people smile with hope and anticipation, telling me how I'm young and I have so much time ahead of me. This concept of using every moment, relishing it and appreciating it whether it be work- or play-related is a message I was grateful to have been reminded of.

Back in Russia, I am more appreciative than ever of reliable public transport and 24h shops, however, I'm also doing what I can to keep those pieces of Italy with me.

(This may or may not include cooking pasta on an almost daily basis and constantly bugging my friends to send me pistachio croissants* and gelato).

More frequents posts to come from now on (I promise)...and a website and some music in the making.

Ciao for now,

A-M xxx 


*though croissants are technically french, a 'cornetto' is Italian and a 'cornetto a pistachio' even more so. 

This ceiling fresco in Villa Borghese took my breath away (and get me sever neck pain) and I haven't stopped thinking about it since.

The best lunch 5€ will buy you - a regional 'mini-pizza' called a pinsa. 

0 km farm produce at your service.

Start your day the right way.

River and canal walking in St. P - the perks of cold winters. 

A Russian beating.

There are some traditions and practices in various cultures, which are very difficult to explain to someone who hasn't had the experience themselves. A Russian banya is no different. "It's just a sauna" people might say... and while it might look similar on first glance, the similarities end there.

A Russian banya is much more humid and so tends to feel hotter. This high heat/high humidity combination is supposedly very good for your health, especially your heart and lungs as well as blood flow and clearing toxins from the body. This is due to the way the room is heated. Stones are heated in a enclosed space, as opposed to the open stones that you see in a Finnish sauna, which allows them to get 3/4 times hotter. Furthermore, water is dumped over the stones and as it evaporates, the пар ('par' - steam) is produced ensuring high humidity - the key element. Being naked is a given, although hats are worn to prevent you from overheating. While going to the sauna in Europe and elsewhere might be considered a luxury, going to a banya is seen as a necessity for health and cleanliness. The tradition of going to a banya dates back centuries - to a time where Russians were much cleaner than their European counterparts! And so going to a banya is essentially not for relaxation but for cleansing, cleaning, scrubbing, purging, purifying and restoring; and a key part of this process is beating yourself or one another with branches generally made from birch or oak. The branches play a vital part in circulating the hot air and as a massage to stimulate extracting toxins from your skin. So people are actually generally quite 'active' as they go between beating themselves, beating others, having tea breaks and scrubbing. Afterwards, people will wish you a "с легкоим паром" ("s loh-kim pa-rom") meaning they hope you had a nice banya experience.

A friend told me about a young couple I recently met planning to move to the dacha they rented full-time for the summer. Having been there myself, the lack of running water crossed my mind and I asked how they would wash during the time they were there. "They have a banya there," was the answer I got, accompanied with a quizzical look for asking such an obvious question. Cleanse in the heat, scrub and dump a fresh bucket of water from the well over your body afterwards and you are good to go. There is no doubt that this centuries-old tradition is just as current as it ever was and, having seen a mother with her very young toddler in the public banya I went to, it is clearly something that is introduced from a very young age. My friend also explained that there are many communal apartments that still don't have bathrooms - and many with bath tubs in the kitchen - and so going to a banya is really without question.


So, still feeling a bit groggy from the winter, my mum was kind enough to invite me to join her for a luxury banya experience for two that she had been given as a present. Having only had one banya experience before, almost a year ago (with a group of friends in a small hut on the side of a small lake), I didn't know what to expect going to a luxury spa in the centre of Moscow.

I certainly didn't expect a very young, handsome male wearing a small towel around his waist to open the door to our private banya complex, complete with a table full of fruits, nuts, nibbles, compot and herbal teas for our 2-hour session. I certainly didn't expect having to be stark naked in front of this young, handsome man - "of course you have to be naked, it's a banya" - as I lay on the sauna bench while he beat us with oak branches (front and back) and scrubbed our skin with a mixture of honey and salt. And I certainly didn't expect the 2-hour session to end with lying on a marble table (still naked) in another room, with unbelievably bright lighting, while he used a hemp-like material to scrub clean - just soap this time - every inch of my rejuvenated and newly-purified skin. So that's how the other half live...I have always wondered.

Although I worry that I lost some of the 'purity' waiting at the bus stop for half an hour as they decided to close off the road just as we got to the stop. Unfortunately a daily occurrence in Moscow, which only adds to the constant heavy traffic, for anyone deemed "important" enough to merit such treatment. All cars are completely stopped and blocked off from the main roads to allow for a swift journey for the brigade of security cars, police cars and the car containing the VIP. This time we waited for a full 20-minutes before we saw the dazzling lights of the vehicles coming towards us in the distance. It is a wonderful excuse for being late to lectures though...

A month later, with no Easter holidays scheduled into our university timetable and a only one day off for May-bank holiday, I decided that a self-assigned holiday wouldn't do anyone any harm and I didn't hesitate to book the first train I could back to St. Petersburg. Nearly six months apart and it felt wonderful to be back - as is often the case, you have more appreciation for a place when you are only there for a restricted amount of time.

A friend mentioned that there was a public banya very close to the flat and I was keen to give it another go. Emphasis here must be made on the word 'public' and on the fact that this place cost 1/26 of the price of the luxury spa...

Mentally preparing myself on the way, I felt excited yet slightly apprehensive as I approached the entrance. No handsome, young males to open the door for me this time and, without the added awkwardness, strolling around naked felt wonderfully liberating and very natural. Trying to act cool as I opened the door to the banya, I quickly scanned the room for the ideal spot. It's safe to say, there are not many places in the world where you open the door to a room full of naked babyshka's wearing hats while beating themselves ferociously with branches. It's a shame that you can't take photos...! First time on my own in a banya and not realising that you are supposed to soak the branch in water before using it in the sauna, I was immediately identified as the novice and my lack of hat and body scrubbing materials only highlighted this. However, I beat myself with my bundle of the brunches the best I could and managed the plunge into the ice-cold pool more than once. On leaving at closing time (11pm) I heard a fellow bather bid a "see you tomorrow" to the woman at the front desk - it seems that for those with the time it is a daily ritual. When it costs £3.99 (CAN$7.05) for a 2-hour session or £1.33 (CAN$2.35) if you come before 5pm, it's hard to find a reason not to. As I made the 5-minute walk home, I felt unbelievably fresh and rejuvenated and vowed to find a local place when I get back to Moscow.
I am pretty much an expert now after all.


Happy bank holidays,

A xx

Coming out of hibernation and taking an afternoon to explore

Stunning beach an hour train ride from St. P 

The extension on the left is where you will find the kitchen and the banya - what more do you need...?

Waking up to a burning sensation on my neck and face from the morning sun - priceless.

All the great Russian Soviet composers seriously vibing and sticking to the rules; no smiling in photographs

Living Safely (БЖД)

I honestly cannot not recall how this came up in conversation, however, I very recently learnt that while Russians use the same word for foot and leg - нога (na-ga) - and for hand and arm - рука (roo-ka), they do however have words to distinguish different types of bogies. Hard - козявки (kaz-yav-kee) and soft - сопли (sop-lee). I have always said that a language reflects the people and their culture.

My experience tells me that this country's relationship with social media is still in its honeymoon period, as opposed to the UK where many people are looking to cut back the amount of time they are on social media and are generally quite private about what they share. Here, there is a trend for posting almost entire blogs posts as captions on Instagram, sharing extensive and private thoughts, asking questions for debates, using Facebook and VK (the Russian equivalent of Facebook) to complain about different organisational systems in Russia and, of course, CONSTANT selfies and taking photos in front of signs and buildings (although people seem to prefer having pictures taken on their own and no smiling of course). In light of International Women's Day, which here is a bank holiday, my attention was brought to businesses offering big bouquets of roses for rent. Why? So you can photograph yourself with the bouquet and post it on social media to "create jealousy in your ex-partners or interest in potential partners". For the equivalent of £11, you have up to 10 minutes to take the 'perfect photo' and for an extra fee you can have a car and a driver in a suit included (although not showing his face) and even a Tiffany or Gucci gift bag. I would prefer Chanel myself.

Into the second semester and a couple new subjects have been added to our timetable. Namely, 'Theory and Practice of Present-day Education' (Теория и пратика современного образования) and 'Living Safely' (Безопасность жизнедеятельности). Initially confused on seeing these subjects in my timetable, I later found out they were obligatory for all 1st years (including second-time 1st years like myself) and decided to try and keep an open mind.... 'Theory and Practice of Present-day Education' opened with asking any problems we had noticed with the educational system in Russia - I decided to keep quiet, fascinated instead by the 20-minute outpour from a fellow classmate, who manages to turn up to around half of the lessons and has probably said about three words during class time since the start of the year. The lesson ended just as amusingly with the teacher spending 5 minutes trying to pronounce 'Oakham School'. As of yet, I am still not quite sure as to what we are supposed to be learning in this module. 

'Living Safely' was quite the shock to say the least. With a teacher who treats us like 12-year-olds just learning to write and a 'point' system for passing the module - gold stars and bonus points awarded for participation in class and not looking at your notes when answering a question, we spent the first lesson listing the different types of 'extraordinary' events that can happen and which can cause danger to human life. For homework we were asked to find the definitions of 'danger', 'catastrophe', 'accident', fire and 'explosion' as well as watch of video of Hiroshima so we know what to expect. This module should have been called "Expecting the Worst" or "The numerous ways a human can unexpectedly find themselves in a dangerous situation and how to define and classify them"...! To quote Mr. Positive himself, "...you need to know the main things that can cause danger to you in everyday life, those which are specific to the region of Moscow...there are around 30 different types to be aware of." Among other things, we will also be learning to put on gas masks and recite the different wind speeds of a tornado or a hurricane - What are we being prepared for? Having these lessons from a young age at school through to university, no wonder Russians are so cheerful! [For mental balance, I would suggest also having lessons called "How to live a pleasant and enjoyable life."] 

In other news, for quite a while now I have been confused about people walking around with straws sticking out through the lid of their takeaway coffee cups. On treating myself to a coffee after yoga, I realised that lattes are served with straws! Plastic straws to drink coffee?! Now if that's not a situation that can cause danger to a human being that you experience in everyday life then I don't know what is. 

Mid-March and we haven't had snow since February and I'm down to only one pair of tights under my jeans...things are looking good!

Bye for now,

A xx

For the 24/7 flower dash

When you find secret hidden gems in the building where you study (well out of the way of dirty students)

Given to me in celebration of International Women's Day

Never-ending Moscow traffic

An early spring sunset

Bread with Tea and Jam.

I can't believe I have gone this long without mentioning the fact that Russians put jam in their tea.

Yes, my reaction was the same. As Maria very clearly states, tea is a drink you have with jam and bread, you don't have tea and jam with bread - surely that would just result in dry bread stuck in your mouth. I was recently confronted with this very issue on a 10-day residential course I did outside Moscow where the breakfast lay out placed the three pots of jam next to the sugar, lemon slices and endless boxes of herbal tea, as opposed to next to the bread and porridge where one would expect it and I proceeded to see others load spoonfuls of it into their cups. The next trick is then trying to figure out which jam is meant for which tea. When greeted with a selection of at least ten different various combinations of herbs, which are supposed to help you with this and that ailment, yet that all look very much like the same green, flowering plant on the front and with unrecognisable names, you can imagine the dilemma I found myself in. Especially having been promised that one of the teas was a very strong laxative - I didn't want to be caught unawares.* I only managed to recognise peppermint among the boxes, before digging out some black tea from the back and deciding to play it safe. The tea and breakfast excitement didn't end there as I was caught unaware by the boiling hot milk meant for my tea, which meant that I had to quickly recalculate the time required to wait for my ideal drinking temperature. I was further confused by the great vat of grated carrots peppered with rogue pieces of apple. For breakfast?! To be honest, there are grated carrots in everything here - it is after all the perfect accompaniment to beetroot, cabbage and potatoes.

It certainly is interesting to compare breakfast products in the various countries I have been to. I took advantage of being in Western Europe over the holidays and the fact that a plane ticket with Ryanair can cost less then a return train ticket to London and went to visit a friend in Madrid. Miles away from the world of grated carrots, the Spanish like to treat themselves to a very sweet pastry with freshly-squeezed orange juice or sugary churros dipped in melted chocolate. If that isn't every child's breakfast dream then I don't know what is. Not one to shun other cultures or ways of living, I was more than happy to oblige and found a great bakery called La Mallorquina - founded in 1894 ! - and it became my first stop every morning. A wonderful thing about Madrid is the metal plaques you will see everything now and then on the pavement outside a shop or business marking over 100 years of service. It means that in that very spot, the same business has been running (not necessarily the same family but selling the same produce/service) for at least 100 years and so can usually guarantee a certain degree of quality. What a brilliant way to keep smaller businesses going and for people to support those businesses. I learnt that keeping your eyes peeled to the floor can also help you find the best places to eat, according to the number of napkins littering the floor - throwing your napkin on the floor after finishing is seen as a sign of appreciation for the food. I tried to be as nonchalant as possible when I went to do it but felt a strange guilt for having created more cleaning up work for the owner. The few days gave me a wonderful taste of a life where there is sun all year round and temperatures stay above 0. Currently sitting in my room as I dread the -21°c awaiting me outside does make me wonder if I should rethink my choice of city. Although I don't know if I could stomach the amount of meat and sugar that seems to make up a large part of the Spaniards' diet. Living the la vida loca indeed.

Back in Moscow with a fresh load of supplies from a well-known English supermarket, my mouth and tongue muscles are slowly getting back into shape as they once again get used to working their way around the unnecessarily (in my opinion) long words. Language is always a reflection of the people and, in this case, it is certainly no different when comparing English and Russian ways of doing things and getting things done. Take a word like to 'chat' or 'talk', the Russian equivalent would be разговоривать (raz-ga-va-ri-vat), or 'sequence' in Russian would be последовательность (pass-le-daw-va-tel-nost), or to 'adapt' - приспосабливаться (pri-spo-sab-lee-vat-cia), I could go on. I'm not saying that it's not a beautiful language, in literature especially, but it also a wonderful reflection of life here. If everything takes twice or thrice as long to say, it also takes just as much longer to do. Such as topping up my transport card for the bus. Having asked at the metro ticket offices, where I could add the monthly fare for the buses to my pass, I was simply told repeatedly 'This is the metro', 'Yes, I know but the transport network is one big company so where could I get bus fares', 'I dunno - not here', 'Wonderful, thank you for your help.' Three months in and I finally managed to find out about a kiosk not far from my mum's place where I can do it. (Why there are no locations in the centre are beyond me.) Battling the windchill which makes it feel about 10 degrees colder, I finally located the brusk woman sitting in her little kiosk box in the street - only to realise she only takes cash. What's life without being kept on your toes for that little while longer, eh?
Transport always seems to crop up in my stories and this time is no different. Reaching the 10-day residential camp involved taking a train (elektrichka) 2 hours east of the city (although it still counts as the region of Moscow) to a place called Avsyunino. I spent the whole journey there wondering if I was on the right train and would have missed it, had they not announced the name just in the nick of time, as the platform consisted of a one long piece of concrete seemingly placed at random between the two tracks without any signage or information whatsoever. I was also very aware of the fact that my suitcase and I could easily fall through the gap between the train and the platform edge and was glad that long jump had been a strong point of mine at school - and I thought all those afternoons doing athletics wouldn't come in useful. I was later informed that this was quite common and my experience was repeated only yesterday as I went further out of the city to collect a clothing rail and found the 'exit' was getting off the platform and walking along side the tracks until you reached the main road. 
Making the most of the last few days before term starts, I have spent each morning at the arthouse cinema that is now right next door. No more mono-voice Russian dubbing over the top of the films for me! The morning tariff means I can see a film for the equivalent £1.36 (CAN $2.22) and thanks to the system of assigned seating they have in cinemas here, I can buy my ticket the day before and always ensure the best spot without having to sit through adverts beforehand. Though usually an evening activity, I find seeing a film in the morning much more productive as a great reason to be up early and it also means I don't fall asleep half way through. Exploring the new area, I found a new bakery down the street that has a morning coffee and croissant deal. Looks like I might have found myself a lovely new morning routine.
Mucho amor,
A xxx
*I found out at the end that it was this one, for anyone who's wondering: http://www.therighttea.com/senna-tea.html 

Driving in English countryside and see nothing for miles until we arrive to the top of a hill to find a pub and an overflowing car park - only in Britain

Rare experience of the English coastline (for me at least)

Someone appears to have missed the bin

Spanish "winter" in its full glory

In the 17th century, this hostel used to provide a hairbrush attached to the side a the bed and this was considered a huge luxury for nomads of the time

Direction unconfirmed

How to get fresh water when living the in the country 101

Just waiting on the platform in preparation for hailing down the next train to Moscow

x

Hop, skip and a jump.

Winter is very much upon us here and, while I sometimes have problems speaking after the lower half of my face has become numb from being in the cold for a minute too long, I still prefer cold and snow to the constant grey and rain that we have become used to in the UK. The white of the snow brightens everything up around it and the light of a morning winter sun is blindingly beautiful (and just blinding in some cases).

However, it seems that Moscow is far behind many other cities in Russia where temperatures have been around -15°c and less for over a month now. And the great distances between main Russian cities mean that one can easily forget that there is life in Russia outside Moscow, St. Petersburg, Novosibirsk and Ekaterinburg. Take Krasnoyarsk, for example. In Krasnoyarsk Krai (a federal region equivalent in size to ten UK's), it is a 4½-hour flight from Moscow or, as my father made sure to inform me, an 82-hour drive from our house in England, yet still only half-way across Russia. As my mother reported back, after her trip, it is a charming place full of culture and history where people are blissfully ignorant of life in the capital, where the regional minister for culture is hoping to be the one to build the city's first McDonald's and where people will happily take a couple days off to drive the 806km (500 miles) to their nearest Ikea in the "neighbouring" (their word not mine) city of Novosibirsk.
I was also delighted to hear that they have recycling. Unfortunately not the same can be said for Moscow and St. Petersburg where a small group of twenty-somethings seems to be fighting a losing battle against a generation of Soviet Russians (including my grandfather) who don't understand that throwing something away doesn't mean that it just disappears into thin air... Currently my mother resorts to taking a suitcase full of recycling back to the UK with her every time she goes back.

On a recent trip to Tallinn, I felt the true effects of living in snow-bedevilled countries as my direct flight was cancelled due to an incoming snowstorm. I managed to convince the girl at the service desk to put me on a flight via Helsinki instead to make it in time for the evening's concert. [For my Canadian friends who were asking - Tallinn is the capital of Estonia and Helsinki is the capital of Finland, both in north-east Europe.]

Through the winter months, before take-off, every plane needs to be "de-iced". On first hearing that this was the cause for our 40-minute delay, I was quite unsure as to what exactly this entailed. As the plane turned towards the runway and I got a better view, I realised we were part of a long queue of planes all awaiting the same fate as two big trucks worked their way down the line, spraying every part of the planes with their magic solution - an experience that brought me back to the excitement of dad suggesting getting a car wash on the way home from the shops and sitting in the car as the unstoppable thunder of brushes came towards you (and always wondering what would happen if you open the window...even just a touch).

My connecting flight from Helsinki to Tallinn proved to be the ultimate Nordic experience.  Sporting our thick winter coats and furry hoods, everyone resembled eskimos as we walked out to our small propeller plane*, trying to distinguish it from the surrounding blizzard. Admittedly, it was somewhat disconcerting not being able to see anything apart from a thick blanket of white for the whole journey and only realising you had arrived when you felt the plane touch-down at the other end. The bird-song playing in the toilets on arrival certainly helped to calm any excitement from the journey, if slightly off-putting as I generally prefer to go inside rather than out. It was interesting to compare the Russian and European airport security checks, i.e. anything goes vs. nothing goes. I got water and juice bottles through on the way there without even taking my liquids out of my bag and I was made to check my bag on the way back as almond and cashew butters have been known to be quite dangerous items to take on flights...

In Tallinn and, therefore, in Europe, I was caught off-guard by the number of Russians that seemed to surround me everywhere I went - I had left Moscow to have a break from them! The Soviet market we found with thousands of relics reflecting a different time and way of life reminds you that although Estonia has done its best to be "european" and "western", many Russians living there still hold on to their Russian roots and past as a strong part of their identity. Alexander Nevsky Cathedral** - the Russian orthodox church on top of the hill overlooking the city is a beautiful, poignant symbol of exactly that, and as I walked by I had strong memories of my mother taking my brother and I there as kids. I was pleasantly surprised by how small the city is with a maximum ten-minute walk to any location and not the minimum 45 minutes that I'm used to and so I made sure to use all this time I saved during the day to stock up on enough good food to keep me going till I'm home for Christmas. Russia still hasn't picked up on the freshly-cooked food and good quality fruit and vegetables trend unfortunately - well, that is affordable for a music student at least - so I have to rely on care packages from my lovely father and a few days away to stock up my reserves.

Another sign of good security and safety efficiency in Russia can be observed in the fire drill we had in academy one day. It reminded me of the musicians on the Titanic who refuse to leave the sinking ship and are determined to play right until the very end. My classmates were determined not to miss the beginning of our ear-training lesson and various percussionists and wind-players practising in the surrounding corridors were absolutely resolved in perfecting their dominant seventh arpeggios before even considering leaving the premises, all the while ignoring the announcement and fire alarm blaring from the speakers. It was a whole 20 minutes before a security guard came around to tell everyone to go outside asking, "Can't you hear the fire alarm?" and people started to slowly shuffle down the stairs gazing longingly at the last page of the Mozart sonata they didn't quite get to finish.

Hope you are looking forward to the holidays as much as I am,

Lots of love,

A xx


*this may or may not be the correct technical term

** For anyone interested in a very brief Russian history lesson: Alexander was a prominent prince who ruled over Novgorod (the location for the original Kremlin years before Moscow), Kiev and Vladimir during the mid-13th century. (For more info, please ask Google.)

Alexander Nevsky Cathedral

First-night dinner views as I stock up on vitamins at a delicious new vegan restaurant. 

Sneaky shot in the Soviet market (where they wanted to charge 1€ a picture)

Feeling like I'm in Goodbye, Lenin! (one of my favourite films)

Just before being blown away by Angela Hewitt making magic with her fingers