Time! We don't have time to be wasting time talking about time!

Classes begin this morning, with Language at 10.45 followed by History at 11.40. After lunch we have a three hour block of literature. The schedule is very much reflective of typical Russian organizational style, in that it is subject to change at any time. This philosophy of organization is evident in other aspects of my experience here so far. One of these has been in the idea of a queue. Lines do not seem to be a regular part of Russian culture, in fact, they seem to prefer a mass of people slowly pushing towards the said objective. These facets of Russian life surprised me as I was raised with the notion that all Russians still live with a Soviet mindset, and are very strict about order and temporal precision. This is apparently not the case for most, as things happen when they happen, and if they happen after their scheduled time has passed, no one is really all too concerned about it. For instance, the bus that we were going to take to Church on Sunday morning was late. When we were about half way there, it was 11.00, when Church was supposed to start, however when we arrived at Church around 11.15, the service started a few minutes after that. In the west we care a great deal about keeping to schedules and running things with as much order as possible, and while this is an effective and efficient method of completing tasks, it does seem to develop stress in the individuals tasked with fulfilling them. The Russian way however, seems to give myself stress when approaching it from a western perspective, but as I get more and more immersed in the culture, I start to appreciate this apparent neglect of schedule as somewhat relaxing. This does not mean that I will abandon all sense of keeping time in the future, as I do like to keep to the clock.

New Horizons

I have arrived here in Russia, and from the first impression that I received, it is a very interesting place. The first person that I saw as I walked into the tunnel was a Russian border police officer, with a very large peaked hat. Following the dimly lit brick hallway, I came to the top on an old rickety escalator that smelled of machine oil that led into Passport Control. Here I joined into a mass of people pressing to get through the customs line. The line, or lack thereof, seemed to be totally random and advancement through said 'line' depended entirely upon pushing your way through the mass. Not surprisingly, My group and I found ourselves at the back of the mass, while we triple checked our immigration forms before going through. When I finally arrived at the passport control window, I handed the woman my passport and completed immigration form. She simply glanced over it, stamped it, and handed it back to me with the side of the immigration form needed to leave the country (can't lose that!) After this, I merely picked up my bags from the conveyer, and walked out. Leaving the airport, I was shown the Polkovo hills, from which the German artillery was positioned surrounding the city during the Siege of Leningrad in World War II. Travelling towards the city, we passed a museum dedicated to the siege itself, which we will be visiting soon. Upon arriving at the school, I took my bags to a room, and proceeded with various registration tasks. After a brief tour around Narvsky Square, and a tasty supper of stuffed crepes at Teramok, I returned to the dorm to shower and sleep. It was much appreciated. Already my excitement for my time here in St. Petersburg is starting to blossom, and I look forward for what else this trip has in store.

On the eve of a journey.

Here now on the eve of my departure to St. Petersburg Russia, I sit and ponder the future. What will happen in these four months? What historic places will I visit? What communist era relic will stir in me some new leftist tendencies (gasp)?  When I have passed safely through the veritable wall that is Russian customs, and into the expanse that is the Pulkovo airport, what smells will waft into my nostrils? what sights and sounds will stimulate my sensory receptacles? When facing such new and foreign prospects (and I don't mean the great Soviet boulevards) such as these,my character is sure to be effected, in some way or another, for good or ill. All I can do is to hope and pray that when I emerge from the belly of the bear, and have been vomited back safely upon Canadian soil, I am stronger in mind, body, and spirit.


Philosophical musings on life aside, here is an awesome song by Turisas, a Finnish Folk/Viking metal band:

Turisas - To Holmgard and Beyond


Holmgard is the old Norse name for a city which was founded by Swedes travelling to the East. The city is now called Veliky Novgorod, and it is situated between St. Petersburg and Moscow.