On having survived a year in Russia

It is almost 1am on the 16th May. I'm leaving to go back to (not so) sunny old England later today. My flight leaves at 4.55pm and Viktor has booked me a taxi at 2pm. He said he would come with me to help with the cases (I had to buy another in the end to fit it all in) and check me in, but I told him that was far too much effort and I would be fine on my own. I'm all packed but not quite emotionally ready to say goodbye to St Petersburg and the people here. I would never have believed it when I was in Yaroslavl, but you do become so attached to the place in the end that it's hard to leave. The weather has transformed recently and it's so much easier to appreciate the parks and buildings, going outside is infinitely easier (and quicker) since the ice has melted away and I have enjoyed standing on the embankment of the Fontanka outside my house in the evenings in progressively lighter night skies. I'm going to just miss the best of the white nights but at least I've seen them before.

I can't quite believe that my year abroad is over. I'm so glad I kept this blog because I've been looking back at my early posts from before I'd even got to Yaroslavl and contrasting where I was to where I am now. Ok, I still can't speak brilliantly, but my listening and comprehension skills have rocketed, as has my confidence in so many new situations. At one point in Yaroslavl, Hannah and I were too scared to buy cake from the counter because of needing to talk and not having quite the right vocabulary. We did it once, and that was it, easy. Kind of regretted it in the end, given the amount of cake we subsequently got through, but now the same kind of situation doesn't phase me. I can work my way around situations without specific vocabulary knowledge without panicking and be understood. I can function in society, that's good enough for me. I do occasionally mess up- at TGIs I asked for a large coke and ended up with a pitcher and 4 glasses, for example, but you learn to not be scared about checking your orders and being up front with your mistakes.
I need to come back to work on the fear of making a complete idiot of myself in front of several Russians, for example in queues, but I am leaps and bounds ahead of where I started back in August.

There have been some serious ups and downs throughout this year, some situations in which I was kicked violently out of my comfort zone and others in which I wish I had been bolder.
I should have made more conversation with Firdaus, but I took an easy option out much of the time, partly because of lack of confidence and partly because of the situation and Russian Step Dad scaring me, but I know I would perform better after this term. Probably also should have gone to more of the cultural events she put on, but a definite highlight of my memories (although one I still can't quite fathom) is the trip to Uglich with the children we thought were future teen mums but turned out to be a dance group acting out some kind of story with goats, being attacked by frogs, interviewed (and failing at being interviewed) by Russian tv, the insane open air lunch with drunk Russians and fish heads in soup, and the (then stressful, now funny) journey home, not really knowing where we lived.
Frequent trips to Globus for decent spaghetti bolognaise, factoring in time to de-dill the food, insane babushki on the shuttle buses there and back, our Moscow trip, the Indian restaurant and my panic over seeing a doctor all stand out to me.
In St Petersburg I suppose the obvious memory is Loony Lyudmila, George and the cockroaches. Yes, this whole episode was...unpleasant, but I was so fortunate to have met some great people out of the experience that the negative side is overshadowed by the good. I obviously came to Petersburg alone, and initially yes I was nervous, but it turned out to be the absolute best thing I could have done. I've made great friends because I've been forced to be more sociable and haven't taken the easy option of sticking with what I know. I have laugh out loud memories of movie nights in the hostel, staying up until 4am and standing on a chair outside the bathroom waiting to scare someone who when they came out, and especially fond memories of Danny jumping into the corridor, brandishing a limp baguette and yelling 'Avada Kedavra' at me.

I have even finally met someone in person who I have been talking to and who has been an enormous help to me for many years, which may well not have happened if it were not for me being here.
My health was always a concern to everyone involved in sending me to Russia-justified, clearly, but I am certain that, despite the last minute panic and hospitalisation, I have done better in this regard thanks to being happy here than I ever would have if I'd gone along with recommendations to go to Moscow instead. I did briefly consider switching to Moscow for the second semester because of fears of being alone here, but that would have been a huge mistake. I have wanted to spend my year abroad in Piter since I spent a weekend here back in the first year-I fell in love with everything about the place, despite the extreme case of blistered feet and exhaustion from touring the city (again, I'd spent a week in hospital just prior to this!) and it's been great to be able to do that.

Viktor, Larissa and Aleksey have been amazing hosts, even if the lamp routine became a little trying after a while, and the location of my flat is equally amazing -the location so close to school, the metro, a 20 minute walk to Nevsky along the river-it has been perfect. This family genuinely care about the well being of their students, which isn't always easy to find in homestays, and the satisfaction of their many guests is all recorded in guest books with hundreds of messages from past visitors, my own just added too.

I can't believe how quickly it's gone. Arriving in Yaroslavl, the overnight train from Moscow when I couldn't get over the fact that I was in Russia, on a sleeper train, by myself...in Russia, the final arrival at Firdaus' place-that seems like it never even happened. The arrival here, after a plane journey during which I sat hunched against the window cursing Russia and everything about it, convinced I'd hate the experience and walking up to and introducing myself to a random group of girls in the airport with our group, who turned out to be truly lovely - it all seems like forever ago. Everything was so stressful and scary at the time, but the dynamic slipped and shifted so quickly I didn't even realise I was having fun. Dare I even say it, I think this year abroad has made me grow up-not that you'd ever know it from observing my behaviour and that of those I spend time with, but I think it has. I think I feel more mature...or...independent....or something. How strange.

I could just go on and on. But it seems that I have actually survived my year in Russia, and that would suggest that this blog has run its course, which is a little sad for me. I find writing therapeutic and generally it comes so easily that I enjoy logging my experiences for future review and nostalgic purposes. It helps me order my own current thoughts too. I remember deciding to start it up at some silly time in the early hours, thinking it was unlikely I'd continue with it. Lucky I did, every entry brings back floods of memories and emotions and has, on occasion, helped me through some tough moments. It would be sad to abandon it. Plus I'm not all that mature just yet. Perhaps I'll have to come back to Russia and fill it up some more.

That is, of course, if airport security let me out in the first place without a migration card. 3 months of keeping it safe and the day before I fly I lose it. Well done me. Fingers crossed. Need to be let out to be let back in.

До встречи!

A busy week, Part two: В больнице

Onwards and upwards.
Continuing from the last post, my busy week continued, or at least seemed very hectic. Thinking on it, I didn't really do a great deal but I did have a lot happen to me. 
I've mentioned with increasing frequency my unreliable state of health over my year abroad, and recently I think migraines have featured in most of my posts. Well, this one is going to focus on that because A. it is taking up a large chunk of my life at the moment and B. I get a lot of site views based on migraine and neuro search words. Plus it's therapeutic. Feel free to ignore the rest if you are healthy, it's likely to bore/depress the hell out of you.

My prediction of an approaching migraine on my return from Peterhof proved accurate. I think motion sickness is connected somehow and it took its opportunity to blast into action the moment I lay down, complete with obligatory 'scintillating scotoma'-flashing, moving blind spots and psychodelic zigzags and vibrations in vision. Who needs drugs?

It hurt, a lot. The next day the same thing happened. And the next. Each time the aura became more widespread and the pain would kick in quicker and stay longer and honest to God it was making me unstable. My sleep patterns were ruined and I felt constantly nauseous and exhausted, my eyes couldn't focus and I developed vertigo. The effects of a migraine, in my case, are generally felt up to a week before and a week after the actual episode, and they were just piling on top of eachother. I spent most of the week close to tears from the frustration of not even being able to lie still and the rest of it in tears from the bulldozers hammering around in my head. The heating in the flat was still on at this point despite it being close to 20 degrees outside and I couldn't keep the window open because Russia is noisy beyond belief, and every little sound was thundering through my head bringing me closer to being sick from the further rolling around in pain. I could only crawl, not walk, and my eyes were doing their own thing. Consequently when I did try to stand, I fell over and was left with a very swollen ankle which just added to the strain. In short, it was torture.
 It felt like eternity during episodes and I began to hate being in Russia with a passion. I was prewarned about the climate here being bad for those of us with neurological problems, and even the pressure changes in the most moderate of climates has a palpable effect on my joints and head. Ocassionally I can actually feel the change in the size of the vessels in my brain, which is commonly thought to be the key cause of migraines. But I wanted to come here so I shouldn't complain too much.

Speaking Russian became an even greater labour than normal. As a result of the mix of regular medications I take I suffer from varying degrees of aphasia-impairment of language and processing ability. Sometimes I simply have trouble with words 'on the tip of my tongue', often reading is a slog, other times I can't speak at all and occasionally I am unable to write. That's in english. I all but gave up attempting to communicate with Viktor and Larissa and only ventured out of my room in search of water (praying for lack of contact with a scantily clad Aleksey) when I was truly desperate.

Thursday came and I was just about stable enough to be able to listen to Harry Potter on my kindle. The Prisoner of Azkaban is not exactly the most taxing of literature, but it's sufficiently interesting to be a distraction when the pain dies down enough. In a moment of lapsed concentration, I rolled over on to my stomach and before I'd realised, raised my head ever so slightly. That was it, I could feel the pulsing in my head, hear the whooshing of blood constricted through my neck and the intense pressure. The scotoma started within 45 seconds, my vision was doubled and parts of my hands appeared to be missing. Alice in Wonderland symptoms made their entrance and everything started shrinking at an alarming rate, just to shoot up by giant proportions a few moments later. My arms were shrinking, I felt totally out of proportion and disoriented.

The head pain, when it hit, was unusally sudden and incredibly intense. The visual aura was spread across both eyes and was adding to the chaos of the pain. I lay there for hours digging my head in to the mattress in (futile) attempts to relieve the pain, writhing around and generally sobbing to myself, interspaced with brief tourettes-esque swearing episodes to vent the frustration. It took maybe 4 hours before the nausea passed enough to switch positions. Very, very long hours. The visual issues had all but disappeared, just leaving the drilling into my skull to contend with. I decided to get up to splash water on my face but as I lifted my head, the aura was back. I couldn't even process what was going on by this point, I just knew the pain had suddenly tripled.
I don't really remember a great deal past this point, although I am aware I was very much in what my doctors refer to as 'crisis'. Truth be told I had probably been hovering around it for the past week. It had by this point been around 10 hours in constant, extreme pain, which is definitely not normal. I usually have some let up or at least weakening of symptoms.
I hauled myself down the hallway to Viktor to request a doctor, and exceedingly kindly, he rang the hospital for me and Aleksey drove us there. Can't imagine Lyudmila or George doing that.

In one of my early posts, about a month after I arrived in Yaroslavl, I commented on the miracle that was me avoiding hospital for so long. Well, a week to go and it was clearly time to rectify the situation. Just about time to cram in a medical emergency before I left!

Some time within the next hour I had been practically carried through the hospital for assessment, to find my blood pressure was an alarming 175/130. Considering that it's usually on the low side of healthy, it was a little worrying, as was my temperature which was edging towards 39 (although in Russia, once it hits 37 there is a definite problem according to doctors). My eyes were showing uncontrollable independent movements and I lost my spacial awareness.  Essentially, my body was having a massive and slightly dangerous freak out.


Treatment at this hospital was, without doubt, outstanding, and I have been in a fair few hospitals. I have never been so happy for nurses to attack my poor veins with multiple cannulas. Unlike a previous experience in a Russian state hospital, which left me with nerve damage, they identified my difficult veins just by looking and an intensive care nurse was called to deal with the cannula. It did eventually have to be changed a couple of times, because my veins ruptured, but the initial IV medication was bliss and I now have a terrific bruise to admire as my badge of honour for a while.
I've had every single test possible run on me, nearly all I've had before but this time with a slant to identify meningitis, apparently. Had someone asked me if Id been vaccinated, I could probably have saved some time, but whatever.

The dopplerography, annoyingly, showed nothing wrong with the vessels in my neck, despite a previous showing there was. I'm not consistent enough, it's hugely frustrating when you're trying to prove a point to your doctor in your quest to recieve a definitive diagnosis. But the chiropractor, amazingly lovely woman that she is, after warning me not to try to get up from the bench because she'd 'heard about me' (randomly collapsed in the middle of a chest x ray, apparently a massive shock to all involved) explained that there is something wrong with my neck, and 'most likely, the rest of you, looking at the list of your injuries and fractures'. Oops. It can't be a good sign if someone used to dealing with injured people thinks you have too many to focus on.
The MRI showed a weird tangle of vessels on the side I get Trigeminal Neuralgia, which I already knew about and no sign of aneurysm, which I had expected. I've had so many scans that I'm very complacent about the results-it will come as a massive shock if anything does ever show up. I had to be transferred by ambulance to another hospital for these scans, and a nurse called Gleb accompanied me, setting Russia to rights on the way and telling me where to go for the best Russian book shops. Helpfully, he also told me not to be scared and not to faint, just before I went in for the scan. lols.


So, eventually, with mountains of medication, 'manual manipulation' to the neck and head, a few incredibly welcome visits from the outside world and a lot of the BBC news international channel (I swear I put it on one morning and Prince Charles was presenting the weather-can't confirm I wasn't hallucinating, but fairly sure I wasn't) , I finally got rid of the lingering pain and sickness.
Turns out that I have a curved top spine (kyphosis) and scoliosis, but I'm told that regular courses of chiropractitioner care will help significantly and hopefully help to reduce general body pain and fatigue. 



King of the Hill (царь горы- tsar gori) in Russian helped to whittle away the hours, despite
only understanding all of about 1/16th of it

Three days after being admitted I was let out, expecting to have a horrific bill placed in front of me. The hospital hadn't been clear about the insurance when I first got there-or at least, I was in no state to understand and didn't know what I'd signed-so it was a massive relief to find that the (estimated from prices online) £8k bill did not materialise. Private hospitals are lovely, and I definitely recovered far quicker in a private ensuite with personal nurse than I did in the 6 to a room the same size as my private one hospital a few years back, but oh.my.life. are they expensive. Also I have to observe that there is significantly less standing around in your underwear to be examined in other hospitals. Maybe there's just less time to get you undressed in state hospitals. Oh well. I honestly don't think I have a scrap of shame left anymore.
NHS, I love you.

And so off I went home, this time to actually sleep.
Nearly made it through my year abroad, so close! Whatever will my year abroad tutor say?! 'I told you so' springs to mind...

Moving again!

Much has happened since I last posted. To summarise the remainder of our time living at Lyudmila's, we spent about 12 hours at a time out of the house and crashed Marc's place quite frequently in order to avoid mental breakdowns and food poisoning. (Thank you Marc). After finding the cockroach in my bed this was pushed to the limit and I turned into a quivering wreck, getting no sleep and experiencing various degrees of exhaustion, depression and mood swings. A Russia low point without a doubt, but I have experienced enough of Russia not to automatically hate all things Russian from this, even though I did start swearing at everyone who dared to get in my way on the street and in the supermarket, cursing their (probably very mixed and un Russian, actually) roots.  When we went into school the next Monday, addresses were still not ready, but we couldn't wait any longer, and so skived off the rest of the day to go home and pack and wait to be taken to the hostel.

Now, convinced as we were that Lyudmila didn't know we were leaving, the nutjob had apparently been informed by the school in no uncertain terms that we would be. This left us confused, given the conversations about us staying and the next excursions, but whatever, we accept the woman is insane. George realised we were packing to leave (because he was, of course, still in the house (fully dressed at least) doing nothing with his life) and turned up every television to max and played some awful dubsteb-esque music loudly, to prove some kind of point unknown. We then stole Lyudmila's cheese in revenge. Because we are hardcore. And were hungry. And know there were no cockroaches in the fridge.

Thus I have had about 10 very lovely days living in the hostel with very lovely people, in my own room, eating food that is certified bug free by me and staying up til 6am watching films with everyone. It is somewhat reminiscent of school, except I don't think we ever stayed up quite that late and the food was ocassionally a little suspicious...apart from the curry, the curry was always amazing.
But now, as I write, I am in my new flat on Fontanka. I was told yesterday that I'd be moving, so got myself packed, and fell out of bed today to a text saying the driver would be there in 20 minutes. Russian time keeping is a bit off, so when they said 'between 12-2pm', I should have suspected that could include 10am.

I think I've said it before, but there's something very evacuee like with the waiting for and meeting of your new host for the first time. The very first time I came to Russia, we pulled up in the train, exhausted, to see a hoarde of scary looking Russians standing round on the platform, piled off one after another, and stood sheepishly in a group opposite, waiting for our names to be called. Despite the problem of speaking practically no Russian at this point, it wasn't as bad as I had expected, but then, nothing ever is, and is always over and done with too quickly to really worry too much. Since then, my understanding of Russian and Russia has improved considerably, but I still feel as if I should have a tag round my neck as my host comes to pick me up. Obviously in Yaroslavl' I had Firdaus embrace me in the courtyard in the middle of the night, her dressed in an animal print dressing gown, which somewhat defused any tension, and knew Hannah was upstairs as my English speaking ally. Lyudmila had made things massively easier by speaking in English from the start, although I feel the filth, her son and her craziness outweighed that in the end. So today was not a nervous time for me.

The flat is very big. Sprawling. You keep turning corners expecting it to end, and it just keeps going. Fortunately for me, my room is the very last on the right, so I shouldn't get lost. I have just as much storage as when I was with Lyudmila but the room is much bigger, with a proper desk and chair still, old style soviet windows and high ceilings. Fontanka is a region of Petersburg that used to house all of the old noble families, so the places are nice here. It's on the Fontanka Embankment, a branch of the Neva, although my room overlooks a road and not the river, and is pretty central to everything.
Viktor greeted me, speaking clear Russian (I'm told the St Petersburg accent is the nicest of Russia) although he does speak English. I can essentially understand him, but as always, replying is not easy. He's a chiropractor and his wife, Larissa, is a teacher of English and Russian but currently in Helsinki.
They have a son who lives here (I think) and there's an English student too, who may or may not be on my course...I don't know. So unobservant.

I have possibly already made myself look a bit of an idiot by trying to do an impression of a cockroach when I couldn't think of the word, but the soon they know, the better, I suppose!

The wifi appears to be locked, which is a shame. It was amazing that we got to use Lyudmila's for free, even though it often broke, because skype worked perfectly and video calls were easy. I did buy a dongle during the week when I was at the hostel, because I can't go 2 days without internet, but the connection is often a bit dodgy. The good thing is, though, that unlike other times when you arrive at a new homestay, I'm already able to get online and google map where I am, figure out what's around me and how to get to places. An essential part of settling down, for me, is feeling like I know what I'm doing. That's why, in general, the first few days are difficult, not knowing people, or where you are, or what to do, having no routine and no internet to idly browse for hours on end and settling for playing marathon solitaire/chess tournaments against the laptop gets boring and allows you to dwell on how awful it's all going to be. (It's not). I've learnt to always take the sims3 and some movies with me to get me through those first few days. A bit of Simmish is always a welcome distraction.

Anyway. Viktor has assured me that if I have any problems they will sort them out, that I can come and go as I please, sleep in the morning, afternoon or night and even eat breakfast whenever I feel like it. It is a promising start, and it's nice to be unpacked after not bothering in the hostel, so let's hope it stays that way. I might have to go and make myself look less like I've just rolled out of bed in order to go out and find the nearest produkti, because I am A. starving and B. needing to buy a kinder egg for my friend's birthday...(Because I'm cheap....no but really, she wants one..)

Another insane Bab: a story of vindictiveness, filth, and poor pest control

WARNING: After this post was written, a cockroach was found in my bed. This, coupled with recent ingestion of highly potent neurological drugs, led to angry and hysterical writings of an insomniac made a victim in her own room for fear of further bug invasion. These were further aided by obsessive replaying of Beatles' songs, specifically Lucy in the sky with diamonds, Hey Jude and Yellow Submarine. Apologies for bad language and incoherent, rambling rants. It is also very long. Russia is hard work right now, just roll with it.





Alright. So, we didn't have words with the reps like I said, but we spoke to the school directly. About George. About the filth. About the cockroaches. We said we'd like to stay there still, if Lyudmila would just clean up and give us new sheets. Both of us are covered in bites and I'm wheezing my way through the night from the dust but, you know, Lyudmila seemed nice. So the school rang her straight away.
We stayed out for a long time before braving going home, just in case her and George had gone crazy from the complaint. However, we got home and she wasn't in. Just as I was wondering if she was ever returning after us complaining, she came back and gave us new sheets. No anger, no resentment, just lovely new sheets, as I excitedly documented earlier. What a lovely old lady, we thought!

WRONG.
Bitch is craaaazy. Next morning, I spring out of bed, gazelle like and excited to start a new day after I had finally had myself a good night of sleep. Ipod goes on, boogie on into the bathroom and have a spectacular disco of a time cleaning my teeth, oblivious of the happenings at breakfast in the next room. It was, in hindsight, a poor decision to have headphones blaring, because I have already been privy to Lyudmila bitching about me not eating her breakfasts through the grate between the bathroom and kitchen, and of all days for her to bitch, it would have been today. And I'd left Tania to her evil ways alone.

Sure enough, Lyudmila came out with 'I know I normally give you eggs for breakfast, but when I heard all the horrible things you said about me and my family, I didn't feel like buying them'.
This might just seem petty, but in actual fact anyone who has had to endure any length of time under bab rule in Russia will realise that eggs are, as Hannah so accurately put it, 'the only thing we get up for in the morning!'.  Yes, life is that desperate. So, split between laughing in her face and disbelief, Tania attempts to explain that we said nothing horrible, just the truth, ie, that George is a lazy, arrogant arsehole who makes it awkward for us when the pair of them are screaming at eachother, and that her home is a shit hole. (Fortunately, Tania is more diplomatic than I am, and gently paraphrased). To which Lyudmila angrily responded 'You think my home is dirty? You say it is dirty!? Show me the dirt, show me!'. So...she was shown the dirt...because she forced Tania to do so. Except that, apparently, Lyudmila is blind, and 'Maybe I can not see it' was her response to the festering shit in the bathroom. That's some pretty poor eyesight you've got there, Mila. Might want to get that checked. God. And then she got further pissed off that I was not making sandwiches to take with me for lunch. Interestingly, although we know the school mentioned the cockroaches, she hadn't said anything about them in her aggressive rant. Clearly she was concerned that my intake of crunchy cockroach protein was low that day. What a caring little soul.

Go to school and find out they have had problem after problem with Lyudmila, and, essentially, she's a psychotic bitch who they only keep because her location is so good. But we're being moved, because the school believe us 100%. Turns out that Lyudmila says it's me causing all the problems and promised that she would clean instantly, despite claiming her home is squeaky clean and pristine (the bugs must be that OCD kind who only take up habitation in the most hygienic of places) because she was threatened with them moving us. And she's money obsessed, so that would be a disaster for her - when our flatmate moved out she told Tania to find her a new student because she needs the money (lie) and 'you will ask people but Lauren...Lauren will not'. Well, fair enough, she's right. I wouldn't.

The day finishes. Place is still filthy. I decide it is time to investigate exactly where these cockroaches are living. Into the kitchen I ventured at 2am, camera in hand, expecting to find a few of the giants which I have caught wandering over the plates. No. There are hundreds of bugs of all kinds, all sizes and all over the place, including in the rice. The rice which bitchbab has been feeding us. For weeks. In the bottles of oil and boxes of eggs and tea, stuck to the worktops through sheer filth and neglect. Try to move something and a foul smell shoots up your nose while several insects dart from inside and down the sides and backs of the cupboard. The mountains of rubbish stuck down on this side of the work surface meant I couldn't/didn't want to risk moving anything to film all of the bugs, but could hear the tap tapping of masses scattering from the light. I felt unclean just looking. And later came up in masses of tiny bites. The bastards.
Messaged Tania to warn her not to eat the food at breakfast. Fortunately, she got it before eating, and accordingly told Lyudmila that she felt ill and so would be skipping breakfast. And of course, accordingly, Lyudmila angrily told her that she should have said last night that she didn't want breakfast (um...) and she'd wasted so much time and energy now....(again, um...). Then some kind of 'first Lauren, now you' remark. Then the cow left. In her stupid fur coat. To her stupid job where she speaks English badly.



So then we left. And showed school the video. Who showed it to the director. And we were promised that we'd be out by Monday. Great.
This made it all the more bearable when, one evening, having been left alone with Lyudmila 'to help with English pronunciation', she started bitching about Tania to me. If she wanted to leave, it didn't matter because I would find her a new student, so I shouldn't be worried if Tania is annoyed (no idea where this came from) but really she should stay here, in this flat. What was wrong with her anyway? I should find out. Oh and so should I stay here, because it is so close to school and we can go everywhere by foot -  and everyone makes mistakes. so just because she'd forgotten 3 weeks had passed and it was already time to change the sheets (4 weeks) doesn't reflect badly on her. Oh and she tells George he has a very loud voice and to keep it down but he doesn't so what can you do? That's life!'

I wish my Russian was stronger. The number of times I repeated 'esli ona hotchet, ona hotchet' -if she wants to, then she wants to, in order to cut her off mid bitch about Tania leaving and the number of 'ne soglasna's - I don't agree, I came out with, were frustrating. I so wanted to tell her to f off, but had to satisfy myself with taking perverse pleasure in hearing about how hard it is for her to organise the excursion for us for the next weekend, when clearly we would be long gone, and in assuring her that the correct way to pronounce 'sheet music' for her boss' birthday spectacle, is, in fact, Shit Music.

Hah. She thinks she's won and we're staying. It's Sunday morning and Lyudmila still does not know we are leaving. We need to pack in secret and get the hell out of here. This woman is so weirdly vindictive in talking about each of us to the other, yet is so fake and sweet when we are together that it makes us uneasy.

Why does she remind me of Edgar from Men in Black? 

Russia is an A5 only country

Today (or yesterday, as it is now), I took a trip to the Russian visa agency in London. Flying on Saturday but only having just received the pieces of paper I need (uni hadn't given me my letter of support, ta for that...), it was kind of crucial I got it done today.
All I wanted was to submit my documents, pay my money and return the next day to pick up my urgent visa. What actually happened, was none of that. What actually happened, was 5 hours of hanging around, calls to and from RLUS and Russia, several emails and faxes to the visa agency and an increasing intimacy with the security guard who took pity on me and kept skipping me ahead in the many queues which featured in the whole episode. He was nice.
I did not, however, come away with any prospect of a Russian visa before Saturday. Nor any time soon, really. See, Russian visas require several documents depending on which you're applying for. Mine, a student visa, calls for an invitation (which was scanned over in minute proportions ridiculously late), a HIV test certificate and a letter of support from the uni as well as the usual form and photos.
I had EVERYTHING in order. mostly. I had to reprint the form because it 'wasn't clear enough', even though the 2nd one looked exactly the same and was accepted, but that was not the key issue.

'Today is just not my day'

No. The key issue that was stopping me from getting my visa application in, the major flaw in my documents which obviously must be causing some extreme threat to the Russian domestic security situation, a crucial and underestimated importance-the size of my invitation. It wouldn't print any larger than 3/4 of A5. And Russia, it seems, is an A5 only country. Begrudgingly they will accept A4. No bigger, because that's rubbing it in their faces that you've actually managed to get an invitation, but definitely no smaller than A5 either because you've probably drawn it with a felt tip, filled it in and designed an elaborate stamp with a crayon- and they wouldn't be able to tell because all the sodding stamps look the same anyway and are impossible to tell apart.

I was pissed. off. There were frantic phone calls, faxes and emails to get a bigger copy sent to the agency. They still weren't happy. There was then a call to Russia to send over the original so the print out would be clearer (newly invented issue-the print out was unreadable) but since it was an issue with their printer and they wouldn't adjust the settings, I left visa-less.

What this does mean, however, is an extra week to sort my life out before I go to Russia. RLUS are paying for the original invitation to be couriered over to me from Russia and rebooking me on a flight next Sunday.
Considering that the past month or so have been stressful beyond belief for one reason or another, I'm quite grateful for it. Almost certainly I'd get ill very quickly once I got there if I was still travelling on Saturday, so this should give me some time to give my poor broken body some time to recover.

It also gives me time to put another complaint in about my department. Had they given me my letter when they were meant to, this wouldn't have happened. It's not the first time they've utterly screwed up. I don't get how intelligent people seem totally unable to engage their brains when it comes to matters of common sense.


Ok. Rant over. Russian bureaucracy exists at every stage. I shall deal.

Russian bureaucracy

On a more uplifting note, my DSA equipment arrived today. I can't actually open the boxes myself, because as a 'disabled' student, I am not trusted and must wait for a technician to show me how to turn on my laptop.
And install all the software. And generally do everything I can do myself, except in a way that won't lead to a grey screen with the word VIRUS flashing at me 2 months later. I see their point.
I am excited to get the Sims 3 on there. I anticipate it filling long cold Russian evenings. Because studying isn't going to hack it.

Think I'll go traumatise my sims in the catacombs now, actually.