This is my last hurrah, just a nice little entry to round out my blogging time here in Russia. You can use your imagination to insert all the usual ‘Wow-time-has-flown’, ‘a-month-already-can’t-be-possible’, ‘I-can’t-believe-its-not-butter’, but it really is true. This week has seen me purchasing up a storm of Russian books (luggage allowance, please be kind), spending lots of time meandering through backstreets (mainly because I am still getting hopelessly lost), and coming to grips with the idea that this time, next week, I will be back in Australia, studying at university. I foresee some pretty horrific jetlag lurking behind my return- With Russia being 6 hours behind, even though I am getting up at a sprightly 7:30am here, that translates to early-afternoon-you’ve-missed-half-the-day-get-your-act-into-gear in Aus. I have also learnt to cook a Russian desert (which, incidentally, I can’t eat), gone on an art-gallery bender and seen some of the finest works not only in Russia but also the world (hello, Russian art/artefact poaching from days gone by) and begun a whole sequence of lasts- last time I will have to deal with the metro ladies, last time I will be able to buy bananas at $1 a kilo (loss), last time I will have to buy broccoli at $7 (win), last time I will play ‘Get off at the metro and head for the nearest golden spire’ to explore, last last last. The next few days are sure to be a whirlwind of finishing class, packing in the last few adventures to markets and a final visit to the Kremlin and Red Square and figuring out times and transport for the airport fun on Sunday.
Thanks for reading for this month of language misadventures, Russian cooking lessons (Cover everything in sugar. Then add more sugar. And some cream), “Garry Potter” and getting drunk in parks. After 24 hours in getting there, I will be hitting the tarmac at Tullamarine on Monday night, with a summer’s worth of awkward sandal tan lines and freckles everywhere, and in no way prepared for a Melbourne winter welcome. But I am also bringing home a new perspective on life, language and the necessity of wearing cripplingly high stilettos everywhere you go.
Thanks for reading for this month of language misadventures, Russian cooking lessons (Cover everything in sugar. Then add more sugar. And some cream), “Garry Potter” and getting drunk in parks. After 24 hours in getting there, I will be hitting the tarmac at Tullamarine on Monday night, with a summer’s worth of awkward sandal tan lines and freckles everywhere, and in no way prepared for a Melbourne winter welcome. But I am also bringing home a new perspective on life, language and the necessity of wearing cripplingly high stilettos everywhere you go.
