Thursday, March 30, 2006

Villain #2

The perpetual drama with the weather continues. But I fear boring you poor readers with details so let's just say it's snowy, mucky and wet. And yesterday was such a fine day. Shame.

Ah well. After my excitement with the eclipse the rest of the day was dreary in comparison.

My bond villain and I have been getting along well, I am starting to wonder whether it's just a disguise and in actual fact she's the goodie in the story. I came across a suspicious looking character yesterday: another villain type. I was in the corner shop with my Russian friend discussing the merits of fish with or without mayonnaise (the Russians love the stuff - they put it in soup!) in English of course. Well, our heated conversation must have gained the attention of the local shoppers because when we walked out a strange looking man (my Russian friend's words, not mine) walked behind us and asked if we were speaking French! No English she replied, and he walked off. We continued our talking and the man, who was wearing shades (and I know there had been an eclipse earlier in the day but now it was dark, so really were they necessary?) came back our way. I escaped from the strange villain character by walking the long way round to my flat. Didn't somebody warn me about suspicious looking men in shades? He didn't have a briefcase though...

Thursday, my dreaded day, but the thought that I only have two more lessons with the little rotters after this fills me with joy. So today I don't care, I have not a care in the world!

Here's a little fact for you: Russian people have 20 fingers! They don't have toes they have fingers, hand fingers and feet fingers! When they invented the Russian language they failed to invent a word for toes!

Wednesday, March 29, 2006

Eclipsed!

Who saw the eclipse? I did, I did!

My old buddy the moon made an appearance this late afternoon, just popped out to say hi and to tell the sun to budge over a bit.

It was much better than that pseudo-eclipse back in Manchester in 1999 when all we could see was haze. I remember the day well, we all stood on a rooftop drinking champers and eating nibbles waiting for this miracle to happen. But all that happened was that it got a bit darker than the usual grey Manchester morning.

Ah memories of Manchester... so much to answer for!

Reflections...

My time here is almost over so I have been reflecting on my experiences of Russian life... Sure you may get the impression that it was all snow and sludge and nationalistic pride from the entries in this here blog, but there's been much more to it than that. Oh yes: who could forget the vodka fuelled fun and laughter, the trips to the forest and, most importantly, the insight I gained into that notorious expansive Russian Soul...Like the vast land that they inhabit and destroy like crazed consumers of the west, their soul is seemingly never ending. One thing is for certain, younger generation Russians are more content than us Westeners. Their country may not be as developed as ours, their thinking may be a few years behind ours and they place far too much concern on surface value; but these points all have advantages too, and it leads to happier, less cynical people. AND they have a sense of national identity... it's called nationalism, it's not very attractive but it seems to bind them and help them get through the day. Russia sounds a lot like America doesn't it?

Although I was shocked to see yesterday on the weather forecast that the weatherman had just one front tooth!

Monday, March 27, 2006

This weekend I have mostly been......

This weekend I took a trip to the forest and visited a very plush dacha for the purpose of experiencing a Russian Banya. That's a sauna for all you folks who don't know. It's a wet sauna which makes you feel like you can't breathe and just when you get used to that you feel like your blood is literally boiling. Strangely, though, the effects are rather relaxing and this feeling is enhanced if you jump into a hole in the ice straight after leaving. I opted for a bucket of cold water to be poured over me instead. It's good for the heart apparently. And I had the traditional massage which consists of being hit with a bunch of wet oak leaves.

Then yesterday I made my Russian family and my Russian friend (who has forgiven me for being British) a traditional English breakfast, which they all liked, well they said they did. I'm not too sure they were keen on the fried-ness of everything, but it gave me a chance to share with them the delights of baked beans. We followed this culinary delight with a cake, which although not tradition in England, should be.

And then I braved the muddy streets and went souvenir shopping. As it's nearly the end of my Russian experience I though that I better start getting ready for the big day; the day of departure. So off I went to get some matrioshka dolls and some wooden things made by poor Russian peasants.

Saturday, March 25, 2006

Where am I?

Have any of you noticed that my profile says that I'm still in Manchester, United Kingdom? Maybe I'm just lying and I'm not really in Russia, I'm actually hiding in John's attic with a laptop, making up nonsense about a town in Siberia that doesn't even exist. Think about it, it makes much more sense.

I went to a cafe bar yesterday after work for another fun crazy wild weekend adventure. It turned out that Chekov was sitting on the next table. I really like your work, I told him. Ah thanks he said slightly embarrassed. Yes, I said, my favourite play of yours was the seagull. To this he looked even more embarrassed. I think you've got me confused with someone else, he said, I'm Chekov from the Starship Enterprise, not the leading Russian dramatist. Oh sorry, said I. It happens all the time, he said supping his whisky.

Friday, March 24, 2006

Could you show me the way to the garden party?

I have discovered, through the wonders of English as a foreign language text books, that us Brits really are renouned for talking about the weather and being polite, so here I go; I'll stick to the cultural stereotypes...
It's snowing AGAIN! It's minus something AGAIN! People keep telling me that it's beautiful here in the summer, that they get a very continental climate.... It's a LIE! It's never going to stop snowing, and just when you think it's gone... it comes back. I like the snow (really I do) I'm not complaining. Oh, ok I am complaining. However, I think it is only my duty to adhere to the preconcieved notions of Britishness and thus avoid any confusion for the Russians.

Thursday, March 23, 2006

Superrrrr teacher

I've finally mastered the art of keeping 5 year old Russian kids quiet for 45 minutes. I could show that supernanny woman a thing or two. All I had to do was prance around the room with a pair of old sunglasses on and a big red handbag and a paper vest on... it's funny what you can find in a classroom. From that moment on they had upmost respect for the English teacher and did everything I asked them to. Ha, they were like putty in my hands!

Wednesday, March 22, 2006

One minute sunshine next minute snow

I had an it-could-only-happen-to-me moment today as I was walking home at lunchtime. The streets are covered in sludgy snow (so it's snowing but it's turning instantly to sludge) and a very nice bloke in a car drenched me in said sludgy snow when he drove past me very fast. At least the Russian people who were nearby learnt some new English words: very bad words, which may come in handy if they are ever visiting England and they want to abuse the locals.

The thermals are back on and so are the snowboots... I feel uncomfortable again. There may be grumpy blogs ahead. I'm back to feeling like I'm walking through Dickensian London, before the days of good drainage. What's the Siberian equivalent of Dickensian London? Well that's where I'm living. It was funny though, when I popped in to the shop to see my friend Mel C, she wasn't there so I asked the Babushka behind the counter (who looked like Kate Bush but her career isn't quite over enough for her to be living here) 'kto Mel C Pischalsta?' She explained that Mel C had been caught stealing pilmeni and as a result has been sent to excile in some far off Siberian town. I never really liked her anyway. Maybe she can entertain the other prisoners with accapella versions of old Spice Girls hits. Let's hope so.

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

RRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

I realise that it's not a problem with MY R's that make me sound like Jonathan Ross, but it's the Russian's R's that are so pronounced in comparison to my own, phew... I thought I had developed some crazy speech impediment but it turns out they're the crazy ones with their over emphasised Rrrrrrrrrrs.

Hey guess who came in to the office to ask for English lessons, yeah, none other than Leo Tolstoy. Imagine my surprise when there he was asking for me personally to teach him the Great English Language. I asked him if he has ever spoken English before and he said no, so I suggested that for our first lesson we should learn how to introduce ourselves (well I already know how to introduce myself but I thought maybe I could teach him). He said, 'No Rebecca, I want for my first lesson to translate this'; and he plonked down a big bundle of handwritten manuscripts entitled 'Anna Karenina' onto the table. Well, Ok I said.

Haha a funny thing happened. My Bond villain and I have been working our way through a textbook and one of the tasks was to discuss a story that had been written called 'the perfect crime'. Well, her eyes lit up when she saw the topic. She also told me that she has read Agatha Christie. Bond villain for sure. Anyway we discussed the perfect crime which turned out not to be a perfect crime after all but some unbelievable story about a woman killing her husband with an ice sculpture and then when the police arrive they all drink brandy and use the ice from the ice sculpture to cool themselves down.. uh, yeah. So, it seems the key to a perfect crime is to get the police inspectors who are dealing with the case drunk on brandy. I looked at the authour who turned out to be Roald Dahl and then it all made sense. I think Bond Villain was slightly disappointed too, I think she had been hoping for some tips.

Who wants to be a MULTI millionaire

It goes like this: Snow, Sun, Sludge.... Snow, Sun, Sludge.... Snow, Sun, Sludge....
Just when you think there's no more snow... Snow, Sun, Sludge. I'm loving the unpredictability, it's fantasticly wonderful and unique. Today is sunny and sludgy and the sky is beautifully blue!

TV news, I discovered that Britain should be thankful for Chico and Darius as I have witnessed a sight and sound worse than them... Yes Russian Pop Idol, known as Fabrica - that's factory for all you keen Russian learners out there. Well, Star Factory is it's full title. I can't quite explain why it's so hideous compared to our own hideous version, but it is quite horrendous. For a start there's no Simon Cowell, surely the winning ingredient to any Saturday night pop contest, but not for the Russians it seems; there's no Ant and Dec; and, this is the big one, all the contestants are model-type brilliant singers (I'm sure they mime as well): there's no Andy the dustbinman, there's no big diva and there's no cute little boy. They're all plastic beauties. It's a shame, I think the Russians are taking it all a bit too seriously!

And I also managed to see Russia's very own Chris Tarrant on who wants to be a 500,000000-aire (in roubles) seeing as 1 million roubles is just about enough to buy your weekly shopping. Russia's Chris Tarrant is a tanned, smartly dressed young man. The programme is exactly the same, with the same music and set and layout of graphics on the screen. The one difference is that the camera changes shots a lot more, it goes from contestant to tanned Chris Tarrant to audience in the blink of an eye. It leaves you feeling quite exhaused afterwards. When Tanned Chris Tarrant is asking the audience at home to ring in, there's about 6 cameras on him all at different angles which change with each beat in the music.

There's your TV round-up. Aren't you all lucky to have this cultural knowledge through your very own Russian correspondant.

In other news, I went to the shop yesterday to buy some bread. I was fearing the task of speaking Russian so imagine my relief when I saw who was behind the counter, it was none other than Mel C ex Spice Girl. I said 'hey Mel what are you doing here in Tyumen and more to the point what are you doing working in the corner shop?'
She explained that her pop career is going well here and that she lives in a flat over the road with Blondie and Cindy Lauper. Wow, I said, can I come round for a cup of tea, she said no.

Saturday, March 18, 2006

Bad moon rising

Last night I had dinner with a fascist: sounds like a Morrissey song title, but it's not, it's what I actually did do! So, I went for dinner at the house of one of my colleagues, my new friend. Although her views are somewhat extreme on certain subjects we avoided any conflicting opinions and instead discussed more mundane matters such as food and cultural differences. She fed me traditional food made by her mother-in-law, she fed me cups of tea and biscuits, and she tried to convince me to become an orthodox Christian. It was a pleasant evening. I had to get there on my own and her flat is miles away from the safe confines of my house and the office, so I was bundled into a taxi by another Russian teacher who reassured me that I wouldn't be charged more than 100 roubles, as she explained to the taxi driver that I am foreign and don't speak Russian, surely an invitaion to rob me. But after driving through the town at dusk, seeing the glories of the building sites and other tourist attractions through the windows of a skoda in the dying light of day listening to Tanita Tickerum, I was not robbed. The driver took his 100 roubles and happily drove off into the now dark evening. It turns out he did kind of rob me, as my journey home only cost 70 roubles.

Ok, now for the spiritual gobbedly gook, the moon here when it is full is bizarrely bright and low. It prevents me from sleeping because it literally feels like there's a car headlight shining directly into my bedroom. Every four weeks I have experienced the same probem. It's weird (stay with me here cynics), but it has a presence that makes it impossible to sleep, it feels like it's watching you. It's like an episode of Northern Exposure. Am I living in reality or in a surreal tv comdey? The boundaries are becoming increasingly blurry. Or maybe I'm just cracking up with the isolation.

Thursday, March 16, 2006

The Cat in the Hat...

It seems I spoke too soon about my 5 year olds, they were unusually well behaved today. We had another civilised game of bingo, we learnt the words bell, well and vest and we had a dance to some groovy tune or other. Success I think. I've mastered the art of keeping a room full of little devils quiet. Of course I had to use physical violence and several glasses of whiskey, but it's a start.

The trainers are on!

No thermals and no snowboots: today is the happiest day of my last two months! I feel civilised again. Whoever says, when in Rome.... is talking rubbish, they obviously haven't been to Siberia! Hahaha.

Thursday......(dramatic music, and a gasp from the audience please) it's dreaded Thursday, the day by which I rate all others. The day which for me is the marker in the week. Another Thursday, another 5 year old class, and then it's over and the countdown to the next one begins. It's 8 hours away yet but still, I can feel the anguish growing as each hour passes. As each painful minute ticks away...

Wednesday, March 15, 2006

I'll get you next time, Mr Bond...

It's cold again. The thermals are back ON! My hopes of going outside without my nasty snowboots on and in just normal trainers before my time here is through are fading.

TV news - Have watched Pretty Woman in Russian, and the Fifth Element and some kung-fu film with football in it. New reality TV shows include a house full of people who have cosmetic surgery done so we get to see the after operation effects, it was too bloody and horrible to watch (they show the operations as well). The longest running TV drama EVER is STILL on. This programme started just after I arrived and it's on every day for an hour. It's about an ugly woman and a handsome man who fall in love... yes I thought it would be over after 5 episodes but they are still, after over, uh, 8 weeks every day that's 5 = 40 hours of this on off relationship storyline, still finding something to create around these two characters. Now the ugly woman is in charge of a fashion show. It's not just my opinion that she's ugly, by the way, it's the foundation for the whole programme!

I have a new student who is like a villain from a Bond film, with the accent and everything. I am looking out for mysterious men with briefcases, who say things like 'the bird flies at midnight'. But she has lessons every day and came in to the office and asked for lessons with only me (she knew my name). So, I've convinced myself that she's Alan Rickman's wife from Die Hard and she's out to learn English so she can cause chaos and take over the world, mwah ha ha!

Tuesday, March 14, 2006

Page after page of sniping rage

Weather update - cold but sunny no mud underfoot but still piles of dirty snow at side of road, watch out for the ice kids (and unknowing foreigners), it'll take you by surprise

Music update - still rubbish, have to listen to mp3 to remind myself that I'm not dead and in music hell

Friend count - increasing. I have been invited to dinner on friday night by one of the teachers (yes 8 weeks into my stay they suddenly decide to become hospitable!) I'm slightly concerned as said teacher is often pretty vocal about her hostility towards people who aren't what she considers to be 'normal'. I explained to them all (teachers) recently that quite a few of our television presenters in Britain were 'very nice men' and it sparked a discussion in which I was the sole defender of homosexuality in a room full of homophobic Russians. Now I never thought I'd see myself doing that. I lost of course, I was unable to convince them through the power of discourse that to be 'normal' doesn't necessarily mean white, straight and Russian. It's all good though, to mix with people who hold different views to your own, to debate and discuss in a civilized manner. It'll be like Sartre and Camus. The Phenomenology bouncing off the walls!

I also find, in these circumstances, that not only do I defend the 'other' to the Russian's idea of normal, but I defend Britain for it's clearly more liberal values and it's forward thinkingness. I sit amongst these people, who are educated people, and I feel like we are sitting in another time: in the west of Europe it's 2006 but here in this unremarkable town that exists only to people who have been to it (or know someone in it), it's, well it's a differnt world not just a different time. It's definitely NOT Chicco time!

Monday, March 13, 2006

Weather Changes Moods

No wonder the people here are so darn temperamental. I assume it's something to do with adapting to the environment, and over the years, the Siberians have become as changeable as the weather. My phenomenology is thus; the unpredictableness of the temperature reflects the equally unpredictable nature on the people, and the extremes of the nature that surrounds them has instilled in them a similar condition mentally. They either love or hate there is no space in between.

And I had a friend, my only friend here, but now she has gone completely crazy and I have somehow offended her with my British ways or my lack of understanding and tolerance for these see-saw mood swings that seem to inflict all of the people who I come into contact with. The only exception to this; and the only people who have shown me true kindness and generosity and hospitality is the family that I live with. But with them only minimal conversation is possible. So, my old friend has gone crazy and is not speaking to me. Coincidentally it tied in with the snow melting, a kind of revealing of something previously unknown in her character, a muddy underlay to what had previously been gleaming white. If I spend much longer here I fear the weather will take control of me as well. For now I can observe the madness through the distant eye of a tourist and be untouched by it's obvious magnitude. I am hoping for the monotonous grey skies of Manchester and the ever-predictable short summer on my return.

It's not all bad though, there was another dinner party on Saturday night in the flat which I was again kindly invited to. We ate lots of nice food (cooked by a Ruaaian y'see) and drank wine and I plucked up the courage to try some strange Ukranian vodka type drink which you drink in shots and then afterwards eat fish. I can't remember the name of it. I managed to communicate with people despite our lack of proper understanding; the universal language of food and alcohol works every time.

I am revelling in my new-found feeling of isolation. A lone wolf tackling the adventure of travelling to a foreign land, I have my mp3 player, Joyce and Sartre to keep me company.

'she lives for the written word, and people come second or possibly third'

Saturday, March 11, 2006

Warm Weather

Overnight a heat wave has turned our beautiful white fairytale town into what looks like the remnants of a biblical deluge. Was there rain, I thought to myself as I stepped over puddles of mud, and where has all the dog poo gone, that usually you can see contrasting against the whiteness of the snow? Some things in Russia are best left unexplained, some questions should never be asked. So gone are the days of soft clean snow crunching beneath my weary feet, and they have been replaced by the feeling of living like a 19th century street urchin walking through a sewer.

One day I shall tell you about the horrors of Russian public toilets.

Thursday, March 09, 2006

Russian dancing and devil children

You know me, I never like to refuse hospitality especially when there's food and wine involved, so I played the role of friendly English teacher lodger when my landlady invited me to join her and her friends at their celebrations yesterday. We had barbeque (although it was indoor obviously) and salad and wine. I tried to understand their blabbling Russian and actually managed to pick up a few words, my understanding of the spoken language is quite astute I do think. The conversation went a little like this: blav vlad mlavva chkavva mavva INTERNET pllava cllavvsmoshika hitttalaski mavva blavva haavva COMPUTER. Just like the Fast Show. I explained to my hosts that I had to be leaving shortly to attend the Russian dancing show at the theatre, I nipped to the loo and when I returned there was half a brandy glass of Armenian cognac waiting for me, from the Ararat mountains I do believe. So, not wanting to appear rude I did the done thing and drank to the womens day, hoorah to women. Clink Clink.

So off I trotted merrily on my way to the theatre and watched the dancing, it was very impressive. The first half was dances from all over the world and the second was a Russian and Ukranian dance based on a story of a man who gets drunk and taken into the forest by devils and witches. Very good indeed, and there was me thinking that the Russians lacked culture.

So, with a weary head this morning I realised that it was Thursday and the dark cloud roaming above my head was there not because of the mixing of the grain last night but because Thursday means Devil Children day. Aaaargh. It was the usual fiasco of me frantically trying to stop them hurting themselves and each other while sporadically verbally throwing English words at them. We played Bingo which actually turned out to be quite a civilised affair and they even learnt and used the word 'WAIT'. Only 5 more lessons with the little buggers, that's 3 hours and 45 mins, not a minute more!

Tuesday, March 07, 2006

Holi holi holiday

I think we should all take a leaf out of the Russian's book (idiom #3,010) and have more national holidays, ones where everyone actually stays off school and doesn't go to work. It seems that EVERYONE is walking round with flowers and chocolates and feeling in the spirit of things, and there is no sense of commercialism to it, nobody is moaning that it's just a gimmick for card makers and flower sellers to make a profit from, everybody just seems genuinely happy to give and recieve presssies! (I say that but I don't actually know WHAT they are saying - they speak Russian after all).

Is that the most positive thing I've said about Russia so far? Well it had to happen sooner or later (idiom #3.011).

As a foreigner I have been excluded somewhat from the celebrations, no pressies for me, don't feel sad for me; I am expecting something from my 6 year old friend in the flat, and I shall be going to see some traditional Russian dancing tomorrow evening with the other teachers. So, Do Svidanya, happy womens day everyone. What time is it!?

Monday, March 06, 2006

Weekend News and yet another holiday

It seems that these Russians love a good excuse for a celebration. Not only have they still not taken the New Year decorations down but it seems that each week there is another holiday to celebrate. Two weeks ago it was men's day and this coming Wednesday it's women's day. So everyone has time off work and it means they don't want to learn English, yay. To celebrate I'm going to see a Russian dance show and I'll probably eat cake because that's the custom.

In my lesson with the teachers it was my duty to teach them all about our art and heritage so I showed them an episode of The Office which they found funny I think, although I'm not sure if they understood all of Ricky Gervais' dialogue or the accent. I also managed to get them to compare some great poetry from their own culture, in the form of Pushkin, with Britain's finest lyrical meister, Morrissey. They were mightily impressed with the Mozza and wanted to hear the tunes. It must have been a shock for them to learn that we do actually have some decent music in our country as the exports that make it over here don't say much about our tastes. In fact I have realised that this is where pop stars come when their careers are dead. It's pop star heaven! We have Ricky Martin, Cher and the lovely Gareth Gates (known here as Garrooooooth Gates) constantly playing on the radio.

So I went to a bookshop yesterday and guess who I saw browsing through the fiction section? None other than Dostoevsky himself. I said 'Priviet Fyodor' and he said hi. I recommended Nick Hornby's High Fidelity but he'd already read it. We discussed the merits of modern British fiction he said his favourite book in the last century had been Bridget Jones' Diary and that he loved the film also. I told him I didn't like the ending to Crime and Punishment and he told me I was too cynical and that I must read it again. He ended up buying nothing and said he wanted to save his money for the new Tony Parson's novel. I liked him he was very tall and good looking.

Friday, March 03, 2006

Friday Night's Alright

Well it's Friday night again and who knows what crazy capers I will encounter this week. I think I'll go and find some sleazy all-night bar and drink vodka and eat gerkins until I fall over in a pool of my own urine. Or maybe I'll go and get a pizza with my Russian buddy. I'm not sure which sounds more appealing. Of course I jest, there is no all night bar and for sure my buddy wouldn't take me there. I have asked her to take me to a casino but she said no. It seems that people here don't just go to a casino once - they become addicted and get dragged into the criminal underworld as soon as they step foot in one of these forbidden places. But there's just so many of them, they can't ALL be bad! Ok so they're not brightly lit and inviting like the casino in the Printworks in Manchester, more hidden away and tackily lit like a nightclub you'd find in Blackpool, and probably frequented by the same type of clientel. However, I shall go and win one million roubles one of these days, and then you'll all be glad that I risked my life and my reputation just to get the money for my plane ticket home!

I found a book the other day with Jamie Oliver in it called 'Jamie's guide to Russian Cuisine'. He has an advertising deal with the supermarket chain Passat, for whom he writes cookery books, on which is adorned his beaming face, and in which is included his famous southern charm and wit. In between his passages on haggling with the local fishermen whilst downing vodka and eating their profits, I found this recipe for people like me who are in Russia and can't cook.

Alright my treacles, here's a wicked idea for when you're a bit hungry and you don't know what to cook. Go to the supermarket and stock up on yer beans, stick em in a dish and bung em in the microwave. Wham Bam and there you have it, a delightful meal for one. For a bit of taste and variety slice up some pickled things and stir em in. Pucker! Me julie loves em.

Thursday, March 02, 2006

Children of the Devil himself

It's Thursday again so that can mean only one thing: yep, Devil Children. Only 5 of the little terrors were present but that didn't stop them creating the same chaos usually made by 9 of them. They scream at me; they think it's funny to all scream at once as loudly as they can, to make a casual listener believe that I'm committing some kind of violently cruel act towards them. And they say 'goodbye' and walk to the door as if they are going to leave but then come back laughing at their own comic genius. Then they destruct everything in sight and they hide under the table (which I was happy with because it meant they were quiet). I don't like teaching them, what have I done to deserve this, why me??!!!

Wednesday, March 01, 2006

Ya ne Govoru Po Ruskie

Ha I must look less like a foreigner without my big bear coat on, or perhaps I look less angry, but I was asked two times today for directions. Does this mean I'm a Tyumenite, officially a member of the community, no longer an alien?

I say 'they asked for directions' but really they could have been saying anything because, well, I have no idea what they were saying. It was all Russian to me. But at least it forced me to use my newly acquired knowledge of the Russian language. I said, 'Errrr, I don't speak Russian. Sorry.' (but in Russian of course) And then trotted along on my way.

Then I went to the supermarket which I love, because I can avoid speaking to anyone and looking like a fool, but which I don't like so much when I'm trying to figure out what the heck it is that I'm buying. And their choice of cerials is very limited - limited to only Nestle in fact. I said to myself 'kak eta Kellogs?' So anyway I digress, what I was meaning to say was that when I went to the checkout, which very handily shows the price of the goods on a little screen, the woman started speaking to me, and again I pulled out my 'ignorant foreigner' card and said 'Errrrr'.

But I also need to explain that I think I was a bit harsh on the food the other day, I'd just like to point out that the food, when cooked by a landlady or a Babushka or a Russian friend, is delicious (but don't drink the tap water, oh no noo no). And today I discovered some delicious biscuits and some very exciting pickled things - it seems that if it is exposed for one second, no matter what it is, it's pickled and put in a Russian supermarket. And they have a marvellous selection of different fruit juices all fresh and with no extras just the fruit and their bits. So y'know it's not so bad but I did still get a few tins of beans, of the baked variety, not pickled.