Hello chaps,
So it's been a while since I wrote an actual blog post, for which I apologise. My recent surge in Russian readership has lead me to rest on my laurels somewhat, so I need to pick myself up.
I've frankly been rushed off my feet in recent days, due to the need for me to do my best tour guide/translator impression for the second time. This involved me negotiating a taxi in Russian from the airport and directing the driver along the streets of St Petersburg - this is not because of her lack of local knowledge, but because of a rather interesting problem - the sign for the hotel to which I was directing her was written only in English! Being able to read Russian and English, I had not considered this, so it really made me think about the penetration of the Latin alphabet to cater to foreigners - at the expense of the locals. There is potential here for a long cynical essay about the perils of globalisation, but that's for another day.
One of the benefits of actually living in a place, which I think is underestimated in the UK, is the ability to take visitors to the city to locations off the beaten track of touristy and chain restaurants and places to visit. Sure, I went to the Hermitage, The Church of the Saviour on Spilled Blood and the Bronze Horseman, as it is true that any visit to St Petersburg is incomplete without visiting these places. However, having lived here for over two months, I was able to show off my favourite cafe, Kafema, where you can get spectacular hot chocolate that you have to eat with a spoon rather than drink. It also provided me with a cast iron excuse to visit my favourite Georgian restaurant, where they speak no English at all, to give my 'guest' a taste of something a little bit different.
I also had an experience which reconfirmed my love for babushkas - on walking past the Nikolsky Sobor, a babushka approached me talking rapidly in Russian. She was unable to zip her bag shut, so I gave her a hand. She was so overwhelmed she started issuing streams of Russian blessings and wringing her hands. Goodness knows, with the proximity to the cathedral, Chekhov would have had something to say about it...
This short story is called The Student and is somewhat similar in content. (I'm going to award myself 50 Pretentiousness Points. And a gold star)
Otherwise, my life at the moment consists of research and coffee, which is another reason why I have not blogged much of late. Trying to work out what exactly to do with my life is proving time consuming ...
