Episode 16 and a half : "Мир тесен" ("it's a small world") - or Rob drunk calls a British journalist in Moscow

"So what is it that you wanted from me?" he asked earnestly after my inane and slurry introduction.
"Oh nothing really," I replied "we've just had a few beers..."

I did not intend to write anything until I was within the walls of the Kremlin, but tonight, dear reader, I am compelled to share. On a celebratory binge with some good friends in "Kafe Kirvach", the conversation moved to the notion that the world is often far smaller than it seems. Little did we know how truly and completely we were going to illustrate this idiom.


Sasha began telling an anecdote about how, even in a city the size of Moscow two people can end up living in the buildings next to each other, as was the case for one of his friends, a British journalist. I took another sip of beer and then added my own story to the mix. I spoke of how the best friend of my dentist in sleepy little Devon presented a documentary about Karelia that I watched to prepare for my year abroad. I mentioned also that he was British journalist living in Moscow and that I had gotten to know him through e-mail while looking for an apartment in Moscow. Sasha's eyes lit up as the crushing irony hit. These people were somehow one and the same.

With this stunning and almost uncanny revelation the entire table burst out laughing to the point of tears and we were nigh unapproachable for over ten minutes. The staff looked askew at us, wondering how so many people could act so tipsy after so few beers. Never in my life has something so bizarrely coincidental occurred. It was, for those long minutes, as if all the stars were in alignment. As if god had suddenly found a sense of humour.

Naturally we did the sensible thing and drunk called said journalist in Moscow to tell him what had happened, blatantly interrupting whatever he was up to at the time. Suddenly the phone was thrust at me and in my own special awkward way, I spoke to "Mr Brown"( who found my politeness hilarious in hindsight) and tried not to let the beer get to me...somewhat unsuccessfully as the opening quotation will have you realise.

Anyway, tomorrow Moscow, tonight goodnight!

Episode 9 (part two): This isn't Paris, this isn't London, it's not Berlin, it's not Hong Kong...

continued impressions of life in a small(ish), Russian town...

The giant orange paw prints painted on the pavement led the way to Cafe Begemot. A cafe named after a giant, ficticious, black cat with a Browning automatic? I'm there!
We edged slowly down the narrow granite and marble staircase towards to front door.

Begemot spots me from a roof...

"Is it open? It doens't look open..."
A man pushed the door open at us giving us a start.
"Yup it's open"
We went in tentatively. Oh wow.

Red velvet curtains led the way through the first room. Bookcases lined the walls, and expensive, black-leather sofas framed polished-wood coffee tables. More curtains tastefully tied back with gold cords, led into the second room - a giant basement, red bricked like the Kremlin with musical instruments in chipped, bronze frames in the walls. A jazz band played cooly on a stage. They wore sunglasses.

If there is one thing Petrozavodsk does well, it's bars. Tasteful interior design, attentive staff and high-class atmospheres somehow come paired with unbelievably cheap pints (over £1.50 you're paying too much). This is still taking some getting used to!

If there's one thing Petrozavodsk doesn't do well its pavements. Giant potholes line the roads and side walks. They fill up with water during the many many downpours and cars regularly kick up this muddy slush, showering pedestrians waiting at the city's very few road crossing. This is hardly the fault of the town and I imgagine it has something to do with the extremities of climate: water getting into cracks, freezing and expanding.

Public transport is great, but it is also a kind of experience in it's own right. At rush hour trolleybuses fill up and steam up. Yes there is always the smelly guy in the corner of the bus in the UK, but could someone please open a window? Ok it's not that bad. The price of public transport and the frequency of services is absoultely amazing and it's hardly a country's fault for it's citizens' ignorance of deodrant. The "one price any distance" system is a blessing for students providing you don't try and pay with a big note and if you can put up with the bumpy ride, the lead feet of just about every driver gets you to where you want to go in no time.

All the cool kids just say " I took the trolley yesterday"

I don't like to complain much - after all I chose to study here and love it but if there is one more thing that stands out as a slight annoyance about life here then it is the degree of scorn that accompanys most monetary transactions. Russians seemingly hate giving change, and even big supermarket cashiers are prepared to start a duel over the slightest overpayment. It must be a weakness of the currency system, but when bankomats (cash machines) only give out 500 and 1000 notes I have no idea how the locals get by...

People here are mostly very friendly. Foreigners are greeted with more warmth than suspicion. I suppose curiosity translates awkwardly a lot of the time and we feel stared at simply for being here. After dark things are a little edgy. Drinking in the street is common place here and big groups of Russian men cluster under lamps on street corners, half empty litre bottles of beer swinging menacingly in their hands. Stick in a group guys.

and now for something completely different...cheers for reading.