24th December: There’s No Place Like Home

I made it: I'm back in England! Of course there are things I'll miss about Russia – the people, mainly – but I cannot even begin to describe how good it feels to be back.

Walking through the Arrivals gate at Heathrow was even better than the Love Actually moment I'd imagined. Seeing my mum there waving at me through the crowd made me happier than I'd been for months. We couldn't get to each other fast enough, and when we did we both broke down. It wasn't until a good few minutes later that I even spotted my cousin Danny standing patiently, if somewhat bemused, in the background.

It had been a long journey but a surprisingly smooth one considering all the scare-mongering that had gone on. My taxi arrived early, getting me to the train station at just gone 7:20, in plenty of time for my 7:48 train. Everyone was together in one wagon, and when we got off at the other end Alexei carried my small case so I had one less to worry about. Even so, getting up and down all the steps on the metro was a challenge, and I was just lucky that Ed's Russian friend had come to meet us and helped me carry my suitcase on every single flight of stairs. We then had to wait an hour for the Aeroexpress, which took us directly to the airport. After that, it was time to wait in several endless queues for various bureaucratic reasons, until finally we were through to departures.

Coming back home has made me realise how lucky I really am. I can now confidently affirm that you really don’t appreciate what you have until it’s gone. I am so glad I’ve had the chance to have such an amazing experience living in Russia for four months, but I can now say with certainty that I never, ever, want to live there. There’s no denying that there are positives about living in Russia – cheap, efficient public transport; a strong sense of loyalty to family and friends; a strong sense of tradition – but there’s also no denying that life out there is tough. I would even go as far as to say that what people have out there is not a life; it’s an existence. The freezing temperatures, the minimal wages, the necessity to work hard and for long hours – even the absence of Christmas! A lot of people criticise the relentless takeover of capitalism in Britain, but it’s only when you’re stripped of all your capitalist comforts that you realise how much you take them for granted. Things that we regard as the norm – having a proper bed and not a sofa, and in your own bedroom; living in a house and not in a tiny flat; being able to control your own central heating; not only having a washing machine but also a tumble dryer, and not in the corner of the bathroom; having a garden; going on holidays abroad – are almost unimaginable luxuries in Russia. Now I’m getting used to having all these things again, I feel almost spoilt. But most of all, I’m happy to be back amongst my family and friends, who have welcomed me back as though no time’s passed at all. It’s true what they say: there really is no place like home.

21st December: The Last Week

My last day in Yaroslavl has finally arrived. It’s a surreal feeling, knowing that I may never come back to this place, where I have spent four months of my life.

This week, which once seemed a distant and unattainable milestone in the future, came and went in the blink of an eye. With so little time left, I made it my goal to finish buying all the necessary presents, including for the Vishnevskis and Julia. So, on Monday afternoon I braved the cold and headed to the Christmas market not far from the town centre. However, since the majority of stalls were selling food or fur, I returned empty-handed, even after searching the souvenir shops on the main street. That evening, as my fitness subscription was up and no one had planned to meet up, I was more than happy to avoid going out into the -26-degree-weather and to stay in with the Vishnevskis. They seemed, as usual, glad to have me around and Natasha was keen to show me one of her favourite films, “That Old Feeling”, a romantic comedy with Bette Midler, dubbed over in Russian.

The next day I continued my search for gifts in the town centre but once again the only thing I came back with was a mild case of frostbite. I just had time to go back to the flat and bolt down some food before heading to the last Lingua Café meeting. At the bus stop I happened to bump into our teacher Julia, who was also on her way to the meeting and was struggling not only with the biting cold but also the darkness which was making her barely able to see anything. She’s only in her thirties but her eyesight is so poor I had to tell her when our bus had arrived and physically lead her onto the bus. When talking to her during the journey I realized just how difficult life must be for her. As a teacher, she’s on minimal pay, which is why she has to live so far out of town and can’t afford any treatment on her eyes.

On a more positive note, Julia seemed to cheer up when we got to the Lingua Café, where the theme for the evening was Christmas and New Year, and we shared not only chocolates, sweets and biscuits, but a sneaky bit of wine too. It was fascinating to find out about the Russian traditions, which are so different from our own. The main difference is the fact that Christmas isn’t really celebrated here; the big event is New Year, when, like us, they have a big party, but for them this is the family celebration when people stay at home, open presents and catch up with their relations. Christmas itself is on 7^th January – our Epiphany – but this is a quiet day and not a big cause for celebration. Our teacher Larissa suggested that the reason for this is that all the excitement is over after New Year, but I think it’s more due to the taboo over religion that’s left a definite trace even after the fall over Communism. Anyway, when the meeting ended a group of us headed to Baradas, a cheap but chic local bar which had just opened up opposite Your Bar, and ended up spending the evening there.

Wednesday was another rushed day as I decided I had no other choice but to get the marshrutka out of town to buy the presents I needed. I wasn’t wrong and emerged from Рио laden with gifts – a necklace for Julia, a clutch bag for Natasha, and the finest cognac and vodka for Ivan and Vanya respectively. A bus and a marshrutka later I was back at the flat, with just enough time to wash my hair, grab a bite to eat and get ready before rushing to the theatre.

The production was on at the famous Волковский theatre, which, constructed in 1750, was Russia’s first official theatre. We had expected to see the opera Carmen, but were surprised to discover it was the play. It was an unusual interpretation riddled with outrageous racial stereotypes, including a surreal moment when the cast dressed up in Easter Parade costumes and danced around the stage to the Guantanamera.

After the play had finished we walked over the road to Baradas for drinks. At first it was just Joe, Alexia and me, but it wasn't long before everyone else arrived. This was going to be our last night out in Yaroslavl, so everyone was up for staying till the early hours. When Baradas closed, we moved on to Cocktail Bar before I eventually shared a taxi back with Yana and Akob.

The next day being our last day of university, most people didn't turn up until at least halfway through. Apart from a bit of translation, we did little work that day, but it was worth turning up to get our certificates, say our goodbyes to the teachers and get the feeling of having properly completed the course. Coming out of those big wooden double doors for the last time gave me a strange feeling of relief and nostalgia.

That evening, with everyone suffering from lack of sleep and too much booze, it was nice just to be able to sit in the theatre again. This time we went to see two short stories by Chekhov, Медведь ('The Bear') and Предложение ('The Proposal'), which were surprisingly easy to understand and, more to the point, actually very funny.

On my last day in Yaroslavl I took advantage of the free time and slept in until gone midday. Then it was time to sort out my packing once and for all – and after discarding all the non-essentials I could and trying any possible combinations of luggage to try and reduce the weight of my suitcase, I resigned myself to the fact that there was nothing more I could do; I would just have to hope the airport staff were lenient. At 3 o'clock Julia arrived so we could spend just a little more time together before saying goodbye. We exchanged gifts and chatted in front of the TV for hours, trying to drag out the time before our inevitable parting. When she had to leave we hugged three times and waved and called to each other until she was down all three flights of stairs. We'd become such close friends and we would never forget each other. I would never forget any of the people who'd been so kind and good to me here.

16th December: Last Weekend in Yaroslavl

It’s the evening of my last Sunday in Yaroslavl, and since last writing, I’ve enjoyed yet more experiences of the real Russia, getting my last snatch of everyday life here.

Thursday was an average day, ending only with my usual exercise class. On Friday, however, the Vishnevskys had another Folk Orchestra concert and said I was welcome to go as one of the family. The event was celebrating the 75^th anniversary of Дом Културы «Радий», the local concert hall, and since the orchestra was first on the bill, after they had finished their pieces we were invited upstairs where a small party was being held amongst the orchestra. Around fifteen of us sat around a long table and made toasts with wine and vodka, accompanied by salami, cheese, bread, fish and marinated carrots and cabbage. When one of the orchestra members got up and started to boom out a heavily-accented version of ‘My Bonnie Lies over the Ocean’, I couldn’t help but join in, and we soon split into harmony and were met by enthusiastic applause. Everyone told me I wasn’t allowed to go home; they could do with a singer like me in the orchestra, they said.

I had planned to go into town to meet my friends from university but soon realized I would miss the last marshrutka. Luckily, one of the guys there, Anton, was going in the same direction so offered to let me go in his taxi. However, as the time started to creep on I thought it would be better not to rush and break up the party, and decided to stay. By this time we had moved to the bar, where another table had been prepared, and before I knew it anything vegetarian was being thrust enthusiastically in my direction. At one point I was even asked to make a speech, which it was agreed Julia and I could do together – I made a toast in English and she translated it. Soon we’d moved on from the food and had got up to dance to the lighthearted Russian music playing loudly on the radio. Everyone was in high spirits and the dancing was lively and carefree; I had landed on a real Russian party, and it was great.

It was around 1.30am when everyone began to go their separate ways. As there wasn’t room in the taxi to take Julia home, it was agreed that she and I would stay over at the grandparents’ house, which was only two minutes’ walk away. At around -18 degrees, it was bitterly cold and even such a short walk was enough to freeze you right down to your bones. When we reached the flat, there was a great fuss over making sure I had everything I needed; the sofa bed was laid out and made, I was given one of Julia Senior’s nightdresses and offered everything from cups of tea to a full meal. Julia and I chatted for a while and she asked me about sleepovers in England, because they don’t really do them here. She wanted to know anything – and she was amazed when I said we got into our pyjamas, watched girly films and ate chocolate and ice cream. It was a shame I wouldn’t get to show her a proper English sleepover before I went home.

The next morning we woke up late, and there was more fuss over what to give me for breakfast until I was finally able to insist that cereal was absolutely fine. This turned out to cause even more trouble as, when I poured out the cereal, it had little bugs crawling in it! Stepan’s reaction seemed more of resigned disappointment than shocked horror, as mine was, as, apparently this isn’t that uncommon here. After that it was agreed that I would have some bread with homemade jam and honey.

After breakfast, Julia and I went into her room and watched a German series she really liked, called Türkisch für Anfänger – but dubbed over in Russian. We sat there for hours until it was announced that lunch was ready – something I hadn’t expected at all, having been prepared to go back to the flat soon. It turned out they had put on a full three-course affair – a soup starter, followed by salad, followed by pasta, accompanied by homemade wine and компот, a thick Russian berry drink. Then, as if their incredible hospitality wasn’t enough, Julia Senior gave me a thick cardigan and a beautiful crème shawl ‘to remember them by’. I was extremely touched and when we parted at the bus stop, couldn’t thank them enough or show them how glad I was that I had met them.

By the time I got back it was already 4pm and nearly time to get ready to go out. Only Natasha was in the flat. She was doing housework and apologized profusely for disturbing me with the vacuum cleaner, even though I assured her she wasn’t. She also informed me she was putting some washing on so I should put anything I needed doing in the basket. I’m amazed how easily they’ve let me into their family, letting me come and go as I please, encouraging me to take whatever food or anything else I want, even doing my washing for me. On Wednesday night Natasha even told me when it was my ‘bed time’!

Throughout the rest of the day, Natasha kept coming in to tell me little things (such as how Anton had told her how much he liked me and how disappointed he was he hadn’t got my number) or to give me advice on things, such as how to dress for the weather, which is said to get down to -26 next week! She told me once again to help myself to any of the food she’d cooked, as well as showing me a little brain-training book which she lent me to try. When I announced I was going out she gave me all the phone numbers I could possibly need and explained that although she wouldn’t try and control me, she would try and keep me safe. I was told to call at any time I needed anything.

I thought I’d managed well with the marshrutkas until we hit a huge traffic jam on the dual carriageway. There had been an accident further down and the traffic tailed back for miles. A guy who’d come up to me at the bus stop and had been talking to me ever since, whose name was Danny, suggested walking the rest of the way – a good idea in principle, forgetting the fact that it was -18 degrees outside, as I did. It took much longer than the predicted twenty minutes to get to Your Bar, and all I could think about was the fact that my fingers were presently at a serious risk of actually catching frost bite; I had no feeling in them at all. Having suffered with Raynaud’s disease for years, I’m used to losing the feeling in my extremities, but this was the first time I’d genuinely doubted whether I would ever get the feeling back. Meanwhile, enthusiastic Danny was asking me if I believed in love at first sight and declaring his undying love and devotion. Why is everyone here so mental?

When I finally arrived at Your Bar, I was frozen through. The temperature change was extreme and after a few minutes on the dance floor I knew something wasn’t right and went to sit down. Suddenly my entire body was overcome with shock and I found myself shaking and hyperventilating, tears streaming down my cheeks. My friends rushed over to help me, Joe putting me in his warm jumper and the girls rushing me to the toilets to run my hands under warm water. Nastya and Alexia stayed with me the whole time and soon the whole group, as well as some of the staff, had realized what was going on and were coming in and out of the toilets, everyone offering conflicting advice and trying to help. When I came out, Joe told me to follow him to the table, where a cup of hot, sugary tea was waiting for me. Within half an hour the episode was over, and although I still managed to have a good night, I’d certainly learnt my lesson.

At the end of the night I called a taxi, going against Vanya’s advice to order it a little walk away to get a cheaper fare and instead, ordering it right to the bar – which still only cost 160r (£3.20). The taxi driver, who didn’t seem to want to talk at first, turned out to be very friendly once I’d got a conversation going. We talked for the entire journey and I jumped out of the car with the satisfying feeling of realisation that I was now able to hold proper conversations with people here without a second thought.

Today, I woke up late again and spent some time trying to get to grips with the new Windows 8 Vanya’s installed for me – in Russian – which took quite a while by the time I’d reinstalled everything. After that I settled down to do a bit of work, interrupted only by a few phone calls from friends and a couple from Danny (as well as a text saying simply: “I love you! By Danny.” In the afternoon I went to the supermarket and chatted to Ivan Senior while he made us some fish. He started off again on the lecture about my not eating meat, but I’ve learnt by now to let it go over my head. After all, it’s a cultural thing; they just don’t really understand vegetarianism here. Another cultural thing is the custom of guests being able to help themselves to everything in the house – another favourite topic of Ivan’s. He really seems quite disgusted at our British restraint and his tone is sometimes intimidatingly didactic, but I know he’s only trying to help.

Anyway, it’s the end of another weekend and tomorrow begins my last week in Yaroslavl and in Russia. Let’s hope it’s a good one.

12th December: A Little Variety

After my exercise class on Monday, I had yet another unusual experience. My trainer, who’s always been friendly and ready for a chat, invited me to have champagne with her after class with some other girls from the group to celebrate her birthday. I wasn't really in the mood to sit and drink champagne at 9 o’clock on a Monday, tired and sweaty after a boxercise class, but it soon became clear that this was another occasion where “no” just wasn't an option.

So, slightly bewildered but in no position to refuse, I found myself in her office with a group of girls I’d never spoken to before, drinking champagne and eating chocolate. I think everyone else was similarly taken aback, since everyone started to make their excuses and drift off after around half an hour, but since I could tell this was important to her, I stayed to the last. She then offered to drive me part-way back, an offer I gratefully accepted.

Tuesday was a disappointing day; I felt ill so went straight back to the flat after university, then spent the rest of the afternoon sleeping it off. By the time evening came I was feeling better so went to my exercise class.

Thankfully today provided a bit of variation to what was becoming a monotonous routine. A group of us went on a trip around Yaroslavl, visiting a валенки (valenkii or Russian boot) factory, an enamel workshop and a vodka factory. Seeing how the valenkii were made was a bizarre experience, like taking a step back in time. The factory itself resembled something of the Soviet period, despite the fact that it was founded in the ‘90s. It was small and consisted of several work stations containing huge, clattering machinery powered by long-suffering female workers.

The enamel factory was a step back in time in another sense – a step back to our childhoods. We had no idea what to expect, having simply agreed to the excursion without finding out the exact itinerary. When we arrived, we were shown in to what seemed more like a classroom than a workshop, where sheets of paper were laid out at every place – it seemed we were going to be making things ourselves. After a few minutes a stout middle-aged woman entered the room and told us in a clear, friendly voice that we would be painting our own enamel tiles, which would then be baked in the special oven. We jumped to the task like little kids.

After we’d made our enamels and put them in little wooden frames, it was time to take taxis to the liqueur factory. There, we were given a tour explaining how the drinks were made before being given a tasting opportunity, which consisted of three different liqueurs, accompanied, as per custom, by plates of snacks. By this stage we were all feeling quite happy and decided to go for lunch together at a restaurant by the university, where we stayed for the rest of the afternoon. So, a nice little bit of variety to break up the week.

10th December: Part of the Family

The weekend was fairly quiet but exactly what I needed. On Saturday, all we did was visit Vanya’s grandfather in the evening. Julia was there too, struggling with the flu but glad to see us nonetheless. As usual, I was given excessive amounts of food and made to try everything; Vanya’s grandfather is always pleased when I like the new food he’s given me. A little later, Vanya’s dad and grandmother returned from Moscow and soon after this we left. This time when we said our goodbyes we hugged, and Vanya’s grandmother told me I was like one of the family and could visit at any time.

Once the three of us (Vanya, Julia and I) were on the marshrutka we decided that, since we didn't think anyone would be in town, we’d go back to Vanya’s and watch films together like we did that first time. A quiet night in was definitely just what I needed, and the three of us seem to work well together as a group.

The next day I managed to sleep in again and caught up with a bit of work before it was time to go to Vanya’s friends’ joint birthday party at 4pm. The custom here is for everyone to put some money in their birthday card, which the hosts then use to pay for the party. This meant everyone was relaxed in ordering salads, pizzas, juice and vodka and no one had to worry about the bill at the end. We played Russian versions of some popular games we have in England – Mafia and Charades. Interestingly, they’re practically the same apart from the fact that, in the Russian version of Mafia, instead of a doctor there’s a prostitute, and in their Charades you have to act out a noun, and you’re told what you have to act out by the previous person.

We spent the rest of the night chatting, and it turned out everyone was really nice – and of course, really interested to find out about me. At around 11 we decided it was time to leave and walked one of the girls to her bus stop and waited with her. It’s really great how everyone looks out for each other here; it didn't even cross anyone’s mind to leave before she was safely on her bus home, even though this meant waiting for half an hour in the snow.

When we got back to the flat, Natasha and Ivan were still up entertaining guests. Of course, I instantly became the centre of attention as the guests were fascinated to find out what I was doing in Yaroslavl. After they’d left, Natasha offered me some food and before I knew it I was being presented with a plate of fish, bread and salad. It was then that Ivan turned up the Ukrainian music on the huge old-fashioned stereo and decided to teach me the polka. At first we were just stopping and starting, laughing at my pathetic partner dancing skills, but soon we were dancing rhythmically around the living room. Just another day in the Russian household I guess!

8th December: A New Lifestyle

This week has flown by; only two weeks left to go now! On Wednesday I came back fairly early from university and took advantage of the empty flat to get some work done. Vanya and I stayed in that evening and watched films until the early hours; the whole family seem used to getting very little sleep here.

By Thursday, the lack of sleep was beginning to catch up on me and I was ready for an early night – but this wasn't to be. After university, Alexia and I went to a café so I could help her out with some work, and when I got back at around 3 I decided it would be a good idea to have a little nap.

When Vanya came back he told me he was meeting a friend for dinner at Academia if I wanted to come. Thinking this would be a quiet evening out, I agreed, not realising that the meal would only be a small part of the evening. There were only three of us initially, and we ordered food and split a shisha and a bottle of vodka between us, which we took in shots, of course. At around ten, another friend arrived and we ordered another bottle. When the restaurant was closing, we walked through the snow back to Maxim’s place so he could grab some more money, before moving on to Your Bar. We stayed there until closing at 2, when we moved on to Cocktail Bar before taking a taxi back.

Getting up the next day was not fun, but I made it into class nonetheless. I was lucky enough to be ready just in time to grab a lift with Ivan, Vanya’s dad, who said he would take me in as far as he could before he had to go in the other direction to get to work. Once again, luck was in my favour as the bus I needed to catch ended up behind us and I was able just to jump from one form of transport to another, and arrived at university only a few minutes late.

I was late leaving university that day as we were all agonising over the choice the university had presented us of how to get home. RLUS has decided that it’s too much of a risk to send us to the airport on the bus, since the previous group had arrived too late at the airport and missed their flight. This was a week ago, and they have only just flown back today, having been stranded in Russia as their visas ran out, meaning they were illegally in the country and unable to leave until the new visas came through. Consequently, RLUS have said they will provide us with train tickets instead – leaving us to decide between a train on Friday afternoon, Friday evening or Saturday morning. We’re divided about 50/50 and I've decided the most hassle-free method is to go on Saturday morning, which leaves us with six hours to play with once we reach the train station in Moscow.

After collecting my boots from the shoe repair, I went straight back to flat. I had a quick bite to eat before sneaking in a two-hour nap. When I woke up at 4pm I was told I needed to get ready as quickly as I could because we were going to Vanya’s grandparents’ house – why, I wasn't quite sure. Having just woken up and being in a rush to wash my hair and get ready, I didn't really have time to argue and just accepted what was going on without complaint, despite the fact we were meant to be meeting Joe and his Russian friends at a restaurant in town at 6.

At Vanya’s grandparents’ house we were given copious amounts of food once again – pirozhki (pies), fish, bread and salad – which I felt too guilty to refuse, despite the fact I was about to go to a restaurant. Vanya had to go back to the flat to fetch his wallet and sent me off on a marshrutka, which I could only hope was the right one. It turned out he was right and I arrived at the restaurant at around 7. It was clearly an up-market place – I had to leave my coat in the cloakroom before entering and after giving the name of the party was shown upstairs to a large, chic room. Joe and I bought a bottle of cherry wine to share and, for appearances more than out of hunger, I ordered a salad. Vanya arrived a little later, but the party turned out to be a quiet group. At 9 we moved on the Oktoberfest, but there weren't many people there either so we moved on to Your Bar after one round.

Things got a bit better at Your Bar, especially when Alexia, Ben, Ed, Yana and Akob arrived. We stayed there until around 2, by which time I was ready to fall asleep on the dance floor there and then. Luckily, today we didn't have to be anywhere until 5 so we slept in till late. At 5 we’re popping in to see Vanya’s granddad again because he’s on his own for the weekend, and after that the plan is to meet a few of Vanya’s friends at Your Bar (I think I may as well move in there to be honest). Tomorrow is Vanya’s friend’s birthday too – let’s hope we go somewhere else (although since Your Bar is one of the few good bars in Yaroslavl, that’s fairly unlikely).

Apart from that, we don’t have any plans for this weekend, which should give me chance to catch up on some work and rest. It feels strange only to have one weekend left here, when the end once seemed so far away.

4th December: Landing on my Feet

It’s amazing how much things can change in the course of a few days. After having got used to the idea of putting up with Lyudmila for the last few weeks, I have now been unceremoniously thrown out and have moved in with Vanya and his parents in the Фрунзенский (Frunzenskii) region, twenty minutes outside town (traffic permitting).

Let me tell you how it happened. On Friday night, I was meant to be heading off to Moscow for the weekend. Of course, the snow being as horrendous as it was, all the roads were at a standstill so I needed to leave especially early to get to the station on time. So, my train being at 7.30pm, I decided to be safe and leave an hour before. Lyudmila had other ideas; at 6.15 she came into the kitchen, where I was having dinner, and announced, “It’s the 30^th of the month today”. I said, “Yes, I know, but I was going to pay on Monday when I come back from Moscow; I thought that would be ok.” She replied that it was not ok and that I needed to pay right then – which I was in no position to do, not having any cash on me and being about to set off to Moscow.

I calmly explained the situation, but she was having none of it. When I told her that all my friends were paying when they returned, and that most of them paid in little instalments whenever they had the money available, she said that this wasn’t what people normally did and that she didn't care. The girl from Oxford who lived upstairs had already paid, she said; so apparently she did care what other people were doing after all. I explained that I was sorry but it just wouldn't be possible until Monday and she started to claim that she didn't know whether I was staying or moving out – another lie, since we’d had a long conversation which had made it perfectly clear.

Beginning to panic now, I did the only thing I could think of and phoned the university, who got Lyudmila to agree to let me leave my things there until Monday for an extra 400r (£8). It was now already nearly half-past and I needed to get my washing onto the clothes horse before leaving, because who knew what she would do to it if I left it in the bathroom. I was already worried about leaving my other possessions in her hands, particularly as I’d have to give her my keys for the weekend. Finally I grabbed my bags and made my way to the door. I clarified the situation with Lyudmila and gave her a 1000r note, to which she replied moodily, “Do you want change?” The answer seemed fairly obvious.

Getting to the station was a nightmare. The roads were completely gridlocked, and I knew there was no way I’d get to the station on time if I took the trolleybus, so started to fight my way through the snow as fast as I could. The time was so tight I didn't know whether to just accept my losses and give up, but I persisted nonetheless. At 7.29, when I finally had the station in my sights, Beth phoned me to say the train had just left. Now what was I going to do?

The usually painfully slow Russian queuing system moved surprisingly quickly that day and within ten minutes I had a new ticket in my hands – for the next morning, as the next train that evening had been at 11pm. I also managed to get a refund, which seemed somewhat miraculous, but since the ticket was on Lily’s card we’ll have to wait and see if it ever actually gets through (which is unlikely, judging by the problems Joe’s had with a lost £600 at this same station). The next thing I had to do was find somewhere to stay that night, and there was one person I knew to call. Vanya picked up after a few rings and didn't even question my direct requests: Can I stay over tonight? Yes. Can I move in with you? Yes. Maybe I’m finally getting this Russian directness thing.

Taking a marshrutka into town and another one to Судостроительная, where Vanya lives, it took over an hour to fight through the traffic and make it to Vanya’s. As usual, I had to ask for help in finding my stop, and the conductor seemed to warm to my cluelessness and really make an effort to help me get there (apart from the fact she misheard me and I had to get off on the return route). When Vanya phoned to find out where I was, she even took my phone and explained everything to him. Turns out there are quite a lot of nice people here; you just have to be lucky enough to find them.

I managed to avoid eating insane amounts of food at Vanya’s this time, only some kind of marinated cabbage and disgusting salted baby apple, which I couldn't even pretend to enjoy. There was an awkward moment where I was being urged to try a bit of холодец (meat jelly), and “make an exception” to being a vegetarian, “just this once”. We eventually came to the compromise that I would try the jelly bit but not the meat on the bottom – a decision I came to regret. After this, I was subjected to endless amounts of well-meant advice on places to go in Moscow and where to find them. I didn't have the heart to say that we already had a plan of where we wanted to go and that we’d already been to the Ёлки Палки restaurant. Ivan really did just want to help, and seemed to take great pleasure in marking things on the little map he’d dug out for me, despite the fact that I already knew my way around the city centre relatively well.

The next day, I left at 9.30am so there could be no doubt that I would make the train on time, which wasn't until 11.20. As it happened, the roads had been cleared by now and the traffic was back to normal, so I arrived at the station over half-an-hour early. Nonetheless, I was glad I’d left early rather than risking missing a second train.

The journey itself was killer; over four-and-a-half hours in cramped sleeper-train conditions with seats that numb your bum like you've never known before. When the train eventually pulled into the station, I made my way to the metro and was disappointed at the small amount of snow around, considering what I’d seen on the news about the thick Moscow blizzards which had taken over the city over the past few days. I’d been hoping to see and get some pictures of the city in the snow.

I met the others in the Italian buffet next to Red Square and, it being nearly dinner time by now, joined them in having a big meal. As Beth and Sean were going to see The Little Mermaid, Lily and I made a spontaneous decision to try and get tickets to the Bolshoi Theatre. Our hearts sank when we saw the huge queue snaking outside the ticket office, but we were in luck. Not only did we manage to get tickets for that night’s opera, Boris Godunov, but they only cost us 100r each (£2) with our student tickets. Finally I was going to get to see a performance at the Bolshoi, as I’d wanted to do ever since arriving in Russia.

As we made our way back to Red Square through the Christmas market and amongst all the glittering decorations, I felt uplifted at not only having made it to Moscow, but managing to get tickets to the Bolshoi despite all the odds. Red Square itself was beautiful and atmospheric, with the Гум shopping centre lit up by thousands of golden lights, and a pretty outdoor ice rink and Christmas tree dominating the courtyard. There was still some snow on the ground, mostly piled up in huge blocks which made for some great photos. I even began to feel Christmassy, and the end of my time here finally seemed tangible.

The opera itself was a fantastic experience. We were ridiculously underdressed in our puffer coats, jeans and boots, but it didn't matter; we were in the Bolshoi. Everyone else was dressed to the nines, sipping champagne in the chic bars – everything about this place oozed class. Our seats were up in the gods but we managed to get a good enough view by standing up at the edge, which, though tiring for four hours, was worth it to get to see the full spectacle. The scenery and costumes were works of art in themselves, and often the audience would applaud at the beginning of the scene to show their appreciation. At one point a man came on stage riding a live horse.

By the time the opera had finished it was gone 11pm and we were ready to head back to the hostel, which was just ten minutes’ walk away. It was quite a nice place given the price and the location, I have to admit. After making my bed I went into the kitchen and helped myself to a cup of tea. Before I knew it I’d got chatting to a student from Turkey who’d come over to sit some exams but was leaving the next day. Somehow I got roped into being responsible for waking him up at 6.30 the next day; why do things like this always happen to me?

The following morning, I split off from the others for an hour to visit the Kremlin, which I’d missed out on doing the day before. Being a student, I managed to get into the grounds for free, which was great as it was all I had time for. Getting in was another matter, however; it involved standing in a queue to go through a body scanner and having your bag checked for weapons and explosives. After making it through the queue I accidentally tried to get into Putin’s personal residence, only to be told off by a guard who turned up behind me and scared the life out of me. “Don’t be frightened,” he told me soothingly. “Where do you need to go?” This was an unexpected turn of events.

When I’d actually made it into the Kremlin grounds, I was glad I’d made the effort. The Kremlin, which was built by Italian masters from 1485 to 1495, is 275,000 square metres and consists of many impressive buildings and structures. Успенский Собор (Cathedral of the Dormition) was constructed in 1479 as the main church of Moscow and the location of the coronation of the tsars.  There are also two more cathedrals in the Cathedral Square: Благовещенский собор (Cathedral of the Annunciation; 1489); and Архангельский собор (Cathedral of the Archangel Michael 1508), where almost all the Muscovite monarchs from Ivan Kalita to Alexis I of Russia are buried.

As well as this, there are two domestic churches of the Metropolitans and Patriarchs of Moscow: Церковь Двенадцати Апостолов (Church of the Twelve Apostles; 1653) and Церковь Ризоположения (Church of the Deposition of the Virgin's Robe; 1451). However, a particularly interesting structure is the Колокольня Ивана Великого (Ivan the Great Bell Tower; 1508), which is said to mark the exact central point of Moscow. It was extended to its present height by Boris Godunov and, up until the Russian Revolution, was the tallest structure in Moscow, as it was forbidden to build anything taller. During the Napoleonic Invasion, the upper part of the tower was destroyed, but was later rebuilt. The Царь–колокол (Tsar Bell) stands on a pedestal next to the tower and is the largest bell in the world, with a height of 6.14m and weight of 201,924kg. It was broken during casting and has never been rung.

Грановитая Палата (Palace of Facets; 1491) and Теремной дворец (Terem Palace, early 16^th Century), the first home of the royal family, are linked by the Grand Kremlin Palace, which was commissioned by Nicholas I in 1838 and is the largest and most impressive building in the Kremlin. It was built from 1837 to 1849 to emphasise the greatness of Russian aristocracy and was the former Moscow residence of the tsar. The last two buildings in the complex are Арсенал Московского Кремля (the Arsenal), which was built by Peter the Great in 1701, and Оружейная палата (the Armoury) which originated as the royal armoury in 1508 but now serves as a museum.

Whilst in the Kremlin grounds I was lucky enough to come across a few over-keen photographers who were more than happy to take some pictures of me (from many angles and distances), before I felt it was time to go. By this time it was nearly 11.30 and I met back with the others to head over to the souvenir market, which I’d heard great things about. It was a bit of a way out of town on the metro but it was worth the trip, if only for the beautiful colourful architecture surrounding the entrance. The market itself was so enormous it was difficult to know where to look and where to barter to get the best deal. After several hours I’d managed to get all the Christmas presents and souvenirs I needed, and felt quite pleased with myself. There’s nothing quite like the feeling of buying someone something you know they’ll really like.

Despite the disappointing absence of snow, it was freezing outside that day and we were relieved to be able to duck into a cosy café in the market square selling traditional Russian dishes. I’d finished my shopping by this point so split off from the others to try and see a bit more of the city before it was time to leave. I took the metro back to the centre and had a wander around Китайгород (Kitaigorod, a little region of Moscow with several churches. I ended up walking down to the river where I saw some stunning views of the city in the dusk, with the Christmas lights just beginning to be lit.

I made my way back into town via Red Square and Гум, which was as beautifully decorated on the inside as out. In the centre was a huge slide for children, and all the balconies were draped with red velvet curtains, wreaths and lights. The different brands had lined the isles with Christmas trees, each more elegant than the last. Emerging back out into the cold, I made my way to Цум, the famous Russian department store, to take a quick look before meeting Lily for the train. Here, as in Red Square and Гум, they were playing Christmas songs, making me feel nostalgic for my happy English Christmases.

Lily and I met by the Bolshoi and took the metro to the station. The journey passed surprisingly quickly with the help of the programmes Lily had saved on her MacBook, and soon we were back in Yaroslavl and it was time for me to face my landlady. To my relief, she opened the door when I rang the bell, but her mood was no better than when I had left. I told her I would move out the next day, and she said I had to be out by 8am. This was ridiculous and there was no way I could manage it, especially in the snow and in the rush hour, and with everyone at Vanya’s flat at work or university. So, I told her it was impossible, to which she replied that she wasn't going to stay around all day waiting for me (she never leaves the house!) Struggling to hold my tongue, I said she could simply give me the keys, which she refused to do. Only when I said the university had told me I could move out in the afternoon did she finally agree to let me move out at 1pm, straight after class.

The next morning, I got up at 7.30 and packed all my things. It felt strange packing everything up three weeks before I was meant to leave, but I was more than glad to be out of that flat. At 1pm, Vanya met me outside the university and ordered us a taxi. Lyudmila opened the door without a word and I grabbed all my things as fast as humanly possible (accidentally knocking over a ladder in the process). The apology was out of my mouth before I could stop it; she really didn't deserve any niceness from me.

I think Vanya was a bit shocked at the sheer amount of bags I had with me, even though I’d tried to warn him. Unfortunately I haven’t yet grasped the concept of packing light. He was very patient, though, and insisted on carrying two suitcases and a bag, even up the two flights of stairs to his flat. When we got to the flat I tried to make sense of the chaos I’d caused in his little home and he cooked me some pelmeni for lunch. Then we went to a computer shop and the supermarket with a friend of his, and I bought my food for the week, which came to less than £13. Finally, a few weeks of saving some money, being independent and feeling at home!

That afternoon we chatted and listened to music whilst doing our work, and in the evening I decided I’d put in the effort and go back into town for my class. It turned out the journey only took twenty minutes, so I was there in plenty of time. It was worth the trip, too, as it was my favourite class and the other classes that week were all strength/choreography-based. Admittedly, the way back was a bit of an adventure as I took a different marshrutka which stopped in a different place. All I had to go by was the word of another passenger, but she seemed to know what she was talking about and I could see the street sign, so it had to be right. It turned out, the stop was just at the other end of the road, and it didn't take me long to figure out where to go.

Today was my first day of travelling to university by marshrutka, and it went surprisingly well. The marshrutka arrived almost immediately and I got to university over half-an-hour early. As there was a Lingua Café social that evening, I decided to go out for lunch with the others and go back to the university to do some work until the meeting at 5.30. It took me a while to get back to the flat in the rush hour, but I guess it won’t usually take that long if I’m coming home at 1 o’clock. When I got back it was time to leave again, as it’s Vanya’s granddad’s birthday today and the family was gathering at the grandparents’ house to celebrate. I was surprised that I’d been invited, let alone that Vanya had waited behind to take me there on the marshrutka.

When we got there the party had clearly been going on for a while, but we were warmly welcomed. Vanya’s grandparents seemed genuinely pleased to see me again and had put a video on the TV of their trip to Exeter with the orchestra in the ‘90s. Julia was there too, as well as her mother, brother and aunt, and everyone did their best to make me feel at home. They explained which food was vegetarian and Julia showed me old photo albums of her and the rest of the family, including some black and white photos taken during Soviet times.

It was all thoroughly Russian, and Julia asked me if I felt comfortable: I really did. The drinks consisted of red and white wine, and vodka taken in shots, as per custom. The food was split into two courses: the first, salad with mayonnaise, marinated tomatoes, marinated cabbage and apples and tomatoes topped with grilled cheese. The second course was a kind of buckwheat stew with meat for most, and fish for Vanya’s grandfather and myself. After that followed tea and plates of cake, banana and another, unidentifiable fruit. I have to admit, I felt completely comfortable and happy, and despite my Englishness, not even painfully out of place.

As I was leaving, I was met by concerned comments about the amount of clothing I had on (I hadn't put Natasha’s coat on that evening and was only wearing leggings on the bottom) and warmly invited to come again. Before I knew what was happening, Julia and Vanya were out the door on the way to the bus – they’d given up their seats in the car so I could go instead. When they’d dropped me back at the flat, Natasha showed me a scarf I could wear, which she assured me would be warmer than mine, and told me to help me to help myself to anything I wanted. I can’t work out how I've deserved such kindness, but I’m really grateful.

29th November: A Busy Week

Despite the impression I've had that this last month is going to be the biggest challenge so far, over the past few days I've managed to have a really good time.

On Monday night, after boxercise, I was meeting Vanya, Julia and a friend of theirs (at Cocktail Bar, as per Monday night tradition). Outside I bumped into Nick and Will and they soon fit into our group (maybe even a little too well, when Nick and Vanya decided to have a drinking competition). Even though I’d heard that no one was going to be out that night, the place gradually filled up with our English crowd, but I was happy to stay and talk with my Russian friends.

Later on, we went up to the second floor, where there’s a dance floor as well as a bar. There was a great atmosphere, and it was only because Vanya had overdone it on the drinking contest that we left at 3.30. For the second time that night, some guy tried to talk to me, not getting the hint when I said I was with friends. He wasn't as bad as the guy downstairs though, who, after trying to persuade me to leave, followed me to my table to try and get my number. As I was leaving, the second guy slipped a note into my hand with his number on it, labelled ‘English man’; either these are the normal pulling techniques here, or it was just one of those nights.

We came out of the bar to find it was still snowing, a blissful contrast to the heat inside. The streets looked beautiful, shimmering under the lights. There’s something about walking empty snowy streets at night that’s incredibly peaceful. We took our time walking back, chatting and listening to Blue Jeans by Lana del Rey on repeat – I can’t seem to tire of that song, it’s really beautiful. Then we said our goodbyes, agreeing to meet up again the next day.

And so, the next day, as promised, after my Latino dance class I headed over to Vanya’s on the marshrutka. Both Julia and Vanya said they’d meet me at the bus stop as they lived so close to one another, which was a relief as I had no idea where I was going. As we ascended the steps to Vanya’s flat, his mum, Natasha, was already waiting in the doorway, laughing at the fact I was slightly out of breath from carrying my bag up the stairs. Vanya’s dad (whose name, amusingly, is Ivan, making Vanya’s full name Ivan Ivanovich) was standing in the small hallway and there was a lot of crowded bustling about whilst everyone took off their layers and said their hellos. Natasha kindly proffered a pair of slippers in my direction, already offering food and drinks.

Knowing that it’s a Russian custom to offer guests copious amounts of food and drink, but having just eaten before leaving the house, I tried to politely decline, and Natasha conceded to just put on some tea. As the kettle was boiling, both parents came into Vanya’s room and started asking me questions, full of interest about me and my life in England. It was nice to see that some things never change, no matter what country you’re in, as even from the kitchen Natasha repeatedly interjected to nag Ivan to talk slower, despite the fact he was talking at a completely reasonable speed.

When the tea was ready we settled down in the living room and Ivan picked a Russian comedy to show me, as we’d just been talking about it. Of course, despite my previous protests an entire feast had been laid out on the table – blini, tvorogi, salad and even, a bit later, a whole apple pie. As I was picking up my tea I was offered honey, which, I was told, had come from all the way from the Urals – so how could I refuse? I was about to put it in my tea when Vanya stopped me, explaining that I was meant to eat it straight from the teaspoon, then take a sip of tea. This seemed a bit odd but I obliged, and I have to say it actually works quite well.

Ivan started the film, a Russian parody of Naziism called “Гитлер Капут” ('Hitler Kaputt'), stopping it every few minutes to explain what was going on, and even at some points rewinding it until I’d understood every word. In the meantime, Natasha was preparing yet more food and, when she brought in the apple pie it was an effort for me to appear enthusiastic, being already full from the blini and tvorogi. However, I was so touched that she’d gone to all this effort that I couldn't find the heart to appear anything but overjoyed at the prospect of another huge portion of food, and started to look around for a plate and cutlery. It was then that I was given a fork and told, “This is Russia. We eat straight from the bowl.” Talk about a cultural experience.

It took us a long time to watch the film to the end, what with the constant rewinding and stopping it so Natasha could ask me questions. She was fascinated to know how people in England lived and found it difficult to imagine the concept of private houses and gardens, an unknown phenomenon here unless you count the wooden dachas in the countryside, which is a different thing altogether. Somehow it happened that at one point all the family photo albums were coming out and I was being shown photos of their trips to England (they’d been to Exeter with the grandfather’s folk orchestra, too), as well as pictures of a young Vanya, much to his horror.

At around midnight Julia had to go home, fearing her mother’s reaction if she appeared any later, there having been at least two irritable phone calls from her already. So, the three of us put on all our layers and braved it out into the cold. It had finally stopped snowing, but the temperature had plunged to well below freezing. Most days now we’re lucky to get highs of -5, but of course, the Russians are used to this and find my horror a brilliant source of amusement. It’s actually so standard that when talking about the temperature, they often don’t even bother to include the word ‘minus’.

When we got back to the flat, Natasha happened to see my coat and asked me skeptically if I wasn't freezing. I admitted that yes, I was quite chilly, and before I knew it I was being given a jacket to try on and being told to put on all my layers to prove their adequacy. When my outerwear had been approved I was allowed to undress again and carry on with the film, but not before another round of probing questions. I was happy to answer, even though it was hard to explain; it was the least I could do after being made to feel so welcome.

The next day their kindness went even further; after I’d been allowed to help myself to cereal and been brewed a fresh cup of coffee, I was given a lift all the way into university. As I was leaving there was an awkward moment where I didn't know what to do about the coat situation; was I expected to wear the thick red one I’d tried on the day before? I tried to ask Vanya in private but there was no time – and so I took a guess and agreed to leave my coat behind and take Natasha’s.

There was traffic on the roads but not as much as I’d expected, and we managed to make it in by 9.13 on the dot. On the way we dropped off another passenger who I didn't know but assumed was a neighbour, and Natasha jumped out at the lights about halfway into town, before I’d even had chance to thank her profusely, as I’d had planned. The last half of the journey was just me and Ivan, but it was surprisingly comfortable, even when we fell into silence every now and then. When we arrived I thanked him and told him how kind they had been, and that I hoped I would see them soon.

The next day was the last night out for the people who were leaving on Friday, and I planned to meet them at Your Bar after my usual Wednesday trip to the cinema. This time, I’d arranged to meet Alexia, Vanya and Julia to watch the final ‘Twilight’ instalment (even though I do find these films more than a bit ridiculous) but it turned out there were no tickets left and Alexia didn't have any money left in her account, so Vanya, Julia and I ended up at Cocktail Bar again.

At just after 9 Julia said she had to go, worrying again about how her mother might react. Before meeting me she’d never got drunk and never even been to a bar; her mother must hate me. On the plus side, though, before I came along she and Vanya weren't very close either and hardly saw each other. The other day, Julia told me how happy she was because Vanya had called her to meet up with us, and that had never happened before.

Vanya and I stayed in Cocktail Bar till around ten, when we thought my English friends would be arriving in Your Bar. I can feel how talking in Russian is getting easier and how my confidence is growing; I’m even able to make jokes now and express my personality a lot better. When we arrived in Your Bar, no one had arrived yet and it was looking depressingly empty, but Vanya’s friend, who’s a bouncer there, came to talk to us and within half an hour it was full of English students anyway. We stayed until closing at 2am, when we moved back to Cocktail yet again. There I met some more of Vanya’s friends, one of whom tried to explain to me the difference between Russians and Englishmen, which I have to say wasn't particularly flattering (but then, who could blame him, when his primary reference point was probably the crowd of drunkards hanging around at the bar?)

We left at around 4, by which time the group had already started to break up. After so many late nights, I was relieved at the prospect of my warm bed, even if I would only be in it for three-and-a-half hours. It was a tough task to get through this morning but I managed it nonetheless, and spent the afternoon catching up on sleep before heading to my dance class at 7.30, by which time my brain was working properly again and I managed to have a successful session. Irina, the instructor, was at it again, informing us all didactically what we should and shouldn't do to get thin, and how we shouldn't be able to pinch more than 4cm of belly flesh. I've learnt by now that this is just her way, and not to be offended when she says things like, “ You've eaten before class again, haven’t you? It all goes on your belly, you know.” That’s Russian subtlety for you. Apparently, if we want to look anywhere near half-decent, we shouldn't eat anything after 4 o’clock. Thanks for the advice, but I’d rather not die of starvation! It’s a good job she’s nice and only means well; I think it’s just another cultural thing.

So, now I’m about to enjoy my first proper night in for a long time, and hopefully I’ll wake up refreshed for my trip to Moscow tomorrow. I’m hoping that a bit more time apart from Lyudmila will also do us both good; on the whole she’s been a lot better this week (I even got given two cakes), but maybe that’s because she’s just been glad to get rid of me for a couple of nights. Apparently, a lot of people have started having problems with their landladies now; the word is that after Reading Week they tend to just get fed up with having someone living in their flat. Nonetheless, Lyudmila and I have managed a few conversations this week, and in any case, I think I can bear a bit of moodiness for three weeks. Besides, it’s not like I’m ever actually in.

26th November: A Fun Weekend, a Tough Decision

Another weekend has gone by and now there are only three left until I go home. It’s partly because of this that I've decided to stay where I am and not to move flats after all. Lyudmila’s attitude towards me has improved quite a bit over the weekend (owing largely, no doubt, to the fact she’s realised she might lose my tenancy) and I've thought about how convenient it is living here, right by the university, the town centre and my exercise classes. The only reason I would move now is to move in with Vanya because I know I’d have a good time, but quite a few people have told me it takes an hour to get into town from there in the rush hour, which would be a nightmare, especially when the proper winter sets in, which is bound to be soon, as it’s snowed all day today.

Anyway, before I explain my decision further, first I’ll explain my weekend. Friday was Sean’s birthday, so after my exercise class I planned to go and meet everyone for drinks. Vanya called and said he’d like to come after all (at first, he’d been put off by the fact that everyone was going to be English) and when we arrived, the bar was already full of our party. With everyone speaking English, it was difficult to integrate Vanya into the group, but with more and more people arriving we soon split up into smaller groups anyway. At around 2 we decided to move on to the club Король Королю, where we drank, ate and chatted until gone 5.

The next day I woke up much earlier than intended and felt the worse for it. I ate the breakfast that had been laid out for me before giving in and going back to bed for a couple of hours so that by lunchtime, I was able to do a bit of work. I met Julia for coffee at 4.30 as planned; she’s actually Vanya’s cousin, not his sister, but people often refer to cousins as siblings here, hence the confusion. Vanya joined us a little later before the three of us took the marshrutka back to the area where they both live.

This place felt like real Russia, not at all like the city centre where I live. It’s all very Soviet; the little marshrutka dropped us off at the side of the road, from where we descended the steps to a deserted underpass. On the other side of the road began row upon row of bleak grey apartment blocks, each one identical and lifeless. I was glad I was with friends; this place was completely alien to me.

Vanya seemed a little puzzled about what on earth to feed a vegetarian, but we managed to come back from the supermarket laden with salad, potato and mushroom pelmeni (dumplings) and drinks. The entrance to his apartment block was, naturally, almost the same as mine and even the inside was of an almost identical bland Soviet style (that is, concrete walls, stone steps, and metal doors) but the apartment itself was a lot more modern and homely. Admittedly, it was small for three people but it seemed cosy and I felt at home there straight away. He also has an adorable little kitten who, for some reason, took an instant shine to me, apparently having failed to notice that I’m actually more of a dog person.

I was given a tour of the house and shown where everything was, right down to the perfume cabinet, which he said I could help myself to at any time. He’d tidied his room and changed the bed, and showed me where my towel was as well as the hand towel and (bizarrely) feet towel. Then he and Julia made the dinner (I wasn't allowed to help) while I took control of the music channel and amazing stereo system.

It ended up being one of the best nights I’d had in ages. We watched the Russian version of Ted, chatted and laughed at Julia getting drunk for the first time. By around 2.30 Julia was ready to go home and, reluctantly, I went out into the cold to keep them company. We came out onto the street to find it was snowing, and I was suddenly overcome with amazement that I was in the middle of Russia, in the middle of the night, laughing in the snow with friends I’d made just a few weeks ago. Vanya picked me up on his shoulders and the three of us ran across the snow like kids. I couldn't remember the last time I’d felt this happy.

When we got back we ended up singing Russian songs, watching Misfits (in Russian but with English subtitles) and chatting until 5, so it was no surprise that the next day we didn't feel like doing a lot. After eating copious amounts of cereal (yes, I have found another cereal addict) we spent the day watching films and chatting. When Julia arrived at just after 4 we were only just eating our lunch. Then it was time to take the marshrutka back into town to choir practice, for which I only just managed to stay awake.

Back at the flat, Lyudmila had dinner waiting for me and seemed in a good mood. By then I’d made my decision; even though I’d had an amazing time that weekend, it just wouldn't be practical to move that far out when I've got so much on every day and so much tying me to the centre of town. As I was writing my list of mealtimes for the week, Lyudmila came out of her room and I explained my plans to her. She seemed surprised I was staying and began to say she’d started making plans (what plans could she possibly make? She never goes out the house). I said that if it was an inconvenience I could still move out and she quickly said that no, it was fine. We went round in circles for a while with each of us claiming we didn't mind either way, and at one point she even made the bizarre comment that she would “just feel bad for me having to move my big suitcase”. We both seemed happy with the arrangement and she started to claim I’d said I’d already decided (which I definitely hadn't  but luckily the phone rang before we could get into a disagreement. I think things will always be a bit tense between us (for instance, when I pay less for the weekend I’m away, as a matter of principle) but I’ll survive for the sake of convenience.

Today Vanya came and met Alexia and me after lunch, but I couldn't quite bring myself to tell him I wasn't moving in any more, especially as he’d shown me everything in the apartment and made me feel so welcome. Nonetheless, I think this is the right decision, and Lyudmila’s behaviour is even bordering on nice today; she said “good evening” before telling me my dinner was ready, gave me huge amounts of food and even asked how my day was. When Vanya phoned to make arrangements for this evening I was relieved that he asked me outright whether I was moving on Friday, forcing me to tell him, and it wasn't that bad at all. I said I’d go round often, but that it was just impractical to move out there. I just hope I’m making the right decision.

23rd November: A New Plan of Action

Since last writing I’ve come up with a several solutions to my problem, none of them ideal but all of them possible. My first option is to move in with another landlady provided by the university. They’ve suggested one to me already; she lives near Glavnii Station, which is obviously a lot less convenient than my current location, but still a reasonable distance away. She doesn’t mind catering for vegetarians, but the flat does sound very small; I would have to walk through her bedroom every time I wanted to get into mine. Another option is to live at one of the apartments where the students have already moved out or will be moving out next week at the end of the thirteen-week course. Ben also has a free space in his apartment since the girl who used to be living there when he arrived left a couple of months ago – and his landlady is used to catering for a lot of people, there having been three tenants at one point.

Living with Ben, or something similar, would be great, because we already know their landladies are reasonable people. In general, though, I’m not sure whether I really want to live with another landlady, not knowing what she’s going to be like, and having to settle into a new routine – how complicated would it be to explain my packed diary and bizarre mealtimes?

This is where the other option comes in; my friend Vanya has spoken to his parents and invited me to stay with them for the rest of the term, for free. He lives in a two-bedroom apartment with his parents but says he would sleep in the living room and I would have his room. I can’t believe how generous this is of him and his family and would absolutely love to live there, were it not for one thing: the distance. I spoke to the university today, who said it was in a remote area, miles away, and that I should definitely think hard before moving. Up until I’d spoken to the university I was ready to move the next day; it was all arranged.

Then, this afternoon, the repair men came round to look at the window. It turned out it was a two-minute job and didn’t require any payment whatsoever. So, it was now almost certain that I was safe from eviction from this apartment – until next week at least, because Lyudmila didn’t have sufficient grounds to break the contract. I don’t know how she feels about me moving out now (she’d changed my towels today and gave me a good dinner) but she was still barely civil and I don’t think I can stand another month of her. So, the new plan is to meet Julia and Vanya tomorrow afternoon and then go back to Vanya’s place for the night to see how I get on. I then have until Friday to decide where to live for the next three weeks.

Luckily, I’ve got something to break up the next few weeks, in the form of a trip to Moscow next weekend. Beth, Sean, Lily, Karen, Nell and I are going to make the most of being so near the capital and are going on Friday for a last weekend of sightseeing and souvenir shopping. At least I’ve got something to look forward to. Until then, I’ll be struggling with the question of where on earth I’m going to live.