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Quarantine

I appear to be in Russia again. Getting here was both deceptively easy and a massive pain in the ass. Low expectations were the key. After reviewing the administrative obstacles in my path, I just assumed I would never get round to moving here. An example: in order to get a work visa, you first need to receive an invitation from the Ministry of Internal Affairs. So far, so reasonable. To get that, you need to list the address where you will be living in Russia. Less easy, considering this address would need to be decided a month or two before you set off, and the Moscow rental market tends to move much faster than that. I dare you to join a Facebook page for lettings (the most common way of finding a flat in Moscow) and inform the community that you’re hoping to move into a Moscow flat in two months’ time. You’ll be laughed off the scene. Either that or your post will be pinned to the top of the page as a light-hearted introduction for those searching for entertainment as well as a pla...
Recent posts

Kansk

‘Bet you anything you’ll arrive, spend twenty minutes there, and then get on the first train back to Krasnoyarsk.’ I was discussing my upcoming trip to the little Siberian town of Kansk with Kirill, who was revelling in the prospect of my imminent discomfort. ‘Come on Kirill, it can’t be that bad.’ ‘Oh it really is. You know Cheryomushkin, the really dodgy district of Krasnoyarsk?’ ‘The one where you saw two break-ins and a car theft in one afternoon?’ ‘Yeah that’s the one. Well Kansk is like a whole town made up of just Cheryomushkins.’ Kirill is not alone in holding Kansk in such low esteem. In fact, I couldn’t find anyone with a kind word to say about the place. The common responses when I told people I was going there for the weekend were either hysterical laughter or ‘don’t take anything valuable.’ Renowned Soviet author Arkady Strugatsky spent a few years there, and concluded that it was thoroughly depressing and full of criminals (this isn’t an actual quote beca...

The Lung Ward

I want to go back to the Jaw Surgery Ward. I've been transferred to the Lung Ward. The Lung Ward isn't very nice. Lots of people here are on those breathing machine things you see on telly. They're much less glamorous than they look. They constantly make a wizzing bubbling sound, and they make the whole ward feel humid and sticky like a greenhouse. You can't open any of the windows in the lung ward to take the edge off, because cold Siberian air is apparently bad for your lungs(?!). When I arrived, I walked to the desk and gave them my 'Story'. In this hospital, the wad of documents explaining the various things that are wrong with you is called a 'Story'. I like that. It makes me think of a story on social media, which conjures images of people lying on hospital beds taking selfies and trying to do peace signs with broken arms. The nurse took my Story, glanced at it, and said 'room551putyourfoodinthefridgetoilet'sonyourright'. It was a ...

Abakan

A train from Krasnoyarsk to Abakan travels 400km. A ticket costs £10.20. A train from London to Edinburgh also travels 400km. A ticket costs £74. Which ticket is better value? Show your working. My colleagues gave me a day off in return for working in the nursery in the mornings, so I decided to go to Abakan with Masha. Her and Max's grandparents live there. Her grandma had already come to visit me and Max back in December, and we got on well. She was an English teacher in the rather provincial neighbouring region of Khakassia back in the Soviet Union, but she'd managed to go through her life without ever meeting a native speaker, which made me feel very special. I promised to go out and visit her before I left, and this was my last opportunity. We had eleven hours to kill on the train, so Masha came up with some seriously profound questions like 'what's your biggest fear?' and 'what's your goal in life?' After just two hours of these, the co...

From Russia with Love

24.02.2020 Wow. This irony is scrumptious. I'm guessing I won't publish this on the blog unless my thirst for fame exceeds all sense of discretion and self-respect. 25.02.2020 I decided to publish it. If you think that turning medical emergencies into a self-pitying sensationalist blog article is distasteful and bordering on offensive, I don't care. They put a needle in my bottom. Siberia is full of surprises. And polluted air. My latest surprise coincided dramatically with a goodbye party.  I'd lured a bunch of friends over with the promise of homemade pizza. The actual pizza-making process didn't start until forty minutes before the friends were due to start arriving. Those of you who have made pizza before will know that it takes more than forty minutes to make it from scratch. But I didn't let the pressure get to me, because I wanted it to be a relaxed kind of party, and an uptight flustered Theo doesn't make for a good relaxed party-host...