The cell phone I purchased here is much better than the phone I had back home. It's a white Samsung slider that gets service everywhere, has a battery that lasts for a week, and has a very well thought out interface. It also comes with Ukrainian, Russian, and English language capabilities. I have mine set for Russian, though a lot of Russians text in English, so we have some interesting conversations with an American replying in Russian to a Russian's text in English, and so on. The Russian mobile phone system is also a much more simple and fair deal. To start with, you buy a phone and a SIM card, which comes preloaded with about 100 rubles. You pay only for outgoing calls and texts at a rate of 1 ruble per minute for local calls, and 1 ruble per text. You don't pay for incoming calls or texts, and there are little pay as you go machines in and around every metro station for adding money to your card. My phone even displays how many rubles I have left, updating right after a text has been sent or a call made. Prices are cheaper here if you consider the fact that you're paying the full price of the phone, and not getting a contract signing rebate like you do in the states.
Anyway, I digress, I told you that long story to tell you this one:
I use my phone as an alarm clock, because the alarm function is perfectly designed. You can save multiple alarms, choose which days they are active, and decide whether or not to allow the snooze function on 'em. Also, I can leave my phone on vibrate mode, and the alarm will still make noise. I have no motivation in the mornings, so I keep my 8 am M-F alarm with snooze disabled, and leave my phone charging on my desk [below], forcing me to get out of my bead [above] to turn it off.
My morning ritual begins with a smoke and some world news, after which I collect my towel and a change of undershirt and boxers, and head to the bathroom for a 10-15 minute shower. Luckily, my host family showers at night, so I'm not monopolizing the bathroom [below] with my long showers. Russians aren't too water conscious on the whole, so there's no bother there either.
After my shower, I come back and put my jeans and long-sleeve shirt on, and head into the kitchen. My host mother is usually gone by now, but there are pots of food and soup on the stove, so I fill up the hot water boiler, set it going, and light the gas under a couple pans. Everything is usually ready all at once, and my breakfast of hearty Russian food, usually a meat (beef, turkey, etc.) mixed with a starch (potatoes, rice, pasta). I love dipping the thick Russian bread into my soup, because it's so dense it acts like a sponge, retaining a lot of the soup without going completely mushy and dropping back into the bowl. Tea is consumed at every meal, and often in between. After my 15-20 minute feasting, I wash my dishes and go back to my room to collect my school bag.
The final step before heading out the door is switching from my тапочки (tapochki - slippers reserved for wearing around the house so as not to track in dirt/sludge) to my sneakers. The weather hasn't progressed to the point that I need to use my ridiculous insulated, Gore-Tex, rubber-grip-soled boots. As I understand it, there's going to be a middle period when neither are really perfectly suited to the extensive walking everyone does here. The solution is сапоги (sapogi), ankle-high leather shoes with a pointed toe. They're water-tight, formal enough for university, but not as big and ungainly as boots.
A couple turns of my key, the thick bolt slides back on the outer door [above], and I'm out in the stairwell [below].
I rarely see or hear anyone else on my way down. On the two occasions I have run into someone, it's been a fellow ACTR student who lives a floor below me.
Walking out this door, through that courtyard, and under the archway, I come to the intersection where Furshtatskaya meets Lityeiny.
Mornings are an rushed time here, and the cross walk leading away from my building doesn't have a light, so I stick a tentative leg out into the first lane of traffic, and eventually a car slows down enough for me to leap out in front of it, assuming the driver is alert and will stop for me. Usually by now, the lead cars in the neighboring lanes going in the same direction will have caught on as I continue my forward progress, and I can make it halfway across the street without stopping. Rinse and repeat from the beginning to handle the opposing traffic, and you're across the street.
[taken looking back across the street - well, forward really, because I took this on my way back at night, when the street was much less crowded, and my photographing would neither impede foot traffic nor give myself away to too many]Chernishevskaya metro station is now just a 7-10 minute (or one-cigarette, for those measuring distances and times by more unorthodox means) walk down Furshtatskaya, which is one of the more beautiful streets in the city. Mirroring the nearby parks, there is a median in between single one-way lanes bordered by grass, trees, benches, and streetlights. As with all of the center of St. Petersburg, the buildings are juxtapositions of classic architecture, and modern demand:
I'm note quite sure what this building is. There are no signs on it, and it's been under renovation for as long as I've been here.
Recognize that store? I'll give you a close up.
For those who can't read Cyrillic, it's a transliteration of "Papa John's." There are ONLY three of them in the city. I haven't eaten there yet, because it's actually pretty expensive as far as fast food goes here, but I plan on it someday.
Just a night time shot of the median. You can't quite make out the benches, but the ornate railings, trees, and streetlights should be visible, and the relative width of the walkway apparent.
Taking pictures in the metro is forbidden for reasons unbeknown to me, so I can't show you that portion of my commute. There are separate entrances (вход) and exits (выход) to the small above ground portion of the stations where old ladies shell out tokens at 20 rubles a piece. Here you can also add money to your SIM card at the aforementioned machines, add money to your проездной билет (commuter card, same price as the tokens, just purchased in bulk and more convenient than stopping every time to buy a token), or pay for another month's use of your student commuter card, which is cheaper than the normal metro fare and allows free bus use.
I get off at the Маяковская station to a view of the vast intersection of Nevsky Prospekt, Ligovsky Prospekt, and a few other smaller streets. A short walk down Ligovsky - long enough to smoke a Russian cigarette, but too short for an American Spirit or Nat Sherman - brings me to 46 Ligovsky, the location of our satellite campus of the Russian State Pedagogical University Herzen.
This foreboding sheet-metal door opens into the courtyard below.
The buildings may seem a bit dilapidated, but no more so than anything else off the main streets. The interior of our building is well furnished with modern style classrooms, complete with whiteboards, Western style toilets, and photocopiers.
Well, that's all for today, and probably the next few days until I find something striking to report on.
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