oh my...

Okay, I'm here.

First impressions: some of the buildings similar to the Spanish era buildings in Havana. Wide boulevard streets, open spaces, no crush of people, or high density housing, relatively clean air with a whiff of the Baltic, but not salt smell, just moist. Moist. Without being humid. People walk fairly slowly down the streets. Young women wearing tight, stylish clothing (although nothing like the men and women off all ages I saw in the Milan airport) and stylish shoes...no "crocs" here.

I've just returned from a two hour tour of the vicinity around where I am working and staying, and have seen the hotspots of St Petersburg tourism.

I'll start with the present and work backwards. I'm sitting in an internet establishment which is essentially a long narrow room with several computers in it. I've paid ahead for an hour, so that I can catch up on my email, facebook, and this blog, and I've been assigned to a small cubicle with keyboard and monitor, the latter of which is embedded into a wooden frame. This computer has skype capability and a camera and headphones. And, it is high speed.

I'm hungry, but there is a free reception this evening, and if last evening's welcome reception is any indication, the food will be great.

The tour of St Petersburg was essentially a tour of the cathedrals, museums, galleries, and Other Places of Historical And Tourist Interest, including a gift shop that had a wide selection of amber, gilded babushkas, and gold-leaf and hand painted decorated lacquer boxes, one of which I was immediately drawn to, only to discover it was 1200 american dollars. Each section of this gift shop has its own expert salesperson, and I was immediately provided with a mini-lecture on the purpose, origina, and devleopment of the lacquer boxes by a young man called Daniil who reminded me of Ilya Kurakin from, oh, was he the russian sidekick on mission impossible?. The one I chose but did not buy had a gold embossed painting of a Turk on a flying carpet. Beautiful, delicate in blues, pinks, and of course, gold.

So I've had a surface introduction to the highlights, including a visit into the Cathedral of St Nicholas, an "active" church replete with icons, gold reliquary, genuflecting russian women wearing babushkas (I had to cover my head with my jacket, reminiscent of my childhood when having joined a RC daycamp, I made daily trips into the RC church to pray with my French catholic friends, my head covered with a square of toilet paper which I had to hold on my head with my hand), and legless war veterans outside in wheelchairs, fully dressed in their battle fatiques, and begging.

Inside, many women and children move around from icon to icon and as they approach and move away from each icon, they cross themselves many times, bow their heads, and approach the icon where they touch their forheads against the icon, and also, in the case of the "picture" icons, they kiss the representation of baby Jesus. Women must have their heads covered, and most of the women wore colorful square scarves which are folded in half to create a triangle which they then tie over their head. As they leave the church, they also turn back to the door they have just exited and make the sign of the cross and bow down, different women to differing degrees.

St Nicholas is the patron saint of mariners, and of course, St Petersburg having originally been built by Peter the Great, who was an enthusiastic mariner, it makes sense that there would be a cathedral named for St Nicholas...and, of course, the Neva River ties into the Volga, and goes out to the Baltic.

I am staying in the student0residence of the Herzen University, which means that I am a 10 minute walk from where most of the seminars are, as well as 10 minutes from breakfast. This, of course, was the cheapest housing option available to me, and while my room is somewhat reminiscent of a cell, it is an adequate retreat from everything else I'm doing here, since the university buildings form a barrier between the inner courtyard where the residence is, and the very busy Nevski Prospeckt, which runs alongside. So, I could hear no street noise from my room, and was only awakened by the sound of miniature chainsaws diving through my room, which turned out to be mosquitoes. Since Steve is not here with me to run around the room ki9lling every last one of them, I just let them fly around all night, and kept myself covered with my sheet, which wasn't particularly effective, as I woke up with mosquito bites on the bottoms of my feet. But I have learned my lesson, and will start to use the Deep Woods Off that Steve bought for me before I left. And I will keep the window closed at all times.

The room is sparse, and while I lay awake last night in the bright lights of 12:30 am, the sun just setting, I stared at the ceiling and estimated that the room I'm sharing with Allison from London England but originally from the US is about 8 x 10 feet. It includes two narrow beds; well, one narrow bed and another bed that is even narrower. A stand up wardrobe with four shelves and 4 hangers, two bedside tables, a chair, and a television are the only things in the room. We share a bathroom with 8 other people, but there is likely never going to be a shower line up, as there is no hot water. I'm glad I cut my hair.

How to Shower When There is No Hot Water
First you turn on both the hot and cold water taps, Just In Case the hot water should begin to flow. Then, you tell yourself that you can do it, that you can put your whole body under the stream of cold water pressing out of the rusty shower head. So, you take off all your clothes and stick a leg in. Well, okay, just a foot, and then you have this idea that if you just stick your head under the falling water, you can wash your hair without having your lips turn blue. So, you do that, and then you wash each of your feet, separately, and then your armpits, and then whatever other part of your body it occurs to you to wash, and you leave the shower room without having had a shower, but feeling somewhat as if you can face the rest of the world without the rest of the world running away screaming.


I was met at the airport by two tall, high cheek-boned Russian women in their twenties. They both wore tight clothes, well, really tight clothes, and had an expansive uncovered space between the bottom of their T-shirt and the top of their hip high jeans. They both had long blond hair that came to wispy points, and were aware and helpful. Coming through the terminal had been easy, although the escalotor down stopped while I was on it. I descended into a mass of recent arrivals from Milan (my plane) and London, and we all pressed forward towards the 4 possible exits. I had a couple of forms to fill out, which, when I arrived, were taken away from me, along with my passport, to be registered by the police at a cost of 300 rubles, or 18 USD. Iam now without a passport or visa, and am hoping not to get arrested. One guy from Kenya was stopped at customs and sent back to Kenya because there was an anomoly with his visa...I think there was a comma in the wrong place. They plopped him right on the next plane out of Russia, and I'm guessing that not many questions are asked in these situations.


gotta go!