Infected????

Groping one's way down a dark, damp tunnel, may not be every one's cup of tea, but for me it felt as if I'd just stepped into the "Delorian" and was heading "Back To The Past". The first few meters were pitch black, however slowly as my eyes adjusted the underground city began to take form. The hallways were well constructed just like any other, except for the ZARAZHENO (INFECTED) sign at the entrance and the ubiquitous Soviet, in case of nuclear strike, action plan posters, plastered wall to wall down each corridor. Eerie to say the least, and what's with the ZARAZHENO sign? Had there been some sort of radiation spill down here? I was assured everything was cool, apart from the fact that I could be thrown into a Russian prison if caught down here. I wasn't sure what sounded better radiation poisoning or Vlad's Turma.

Anyway trepidation aside we continued to stumble our way around splashing light on anything of interest. Old typewriters, crumbling televising sets, rusted irons and various other electronic bits and pieces were scattered throughout the many rooms. Fascinating stuff! Everything left the way it was when the Cold War was at it's peak. The only problem was that the along with the rest of the stuff down there, the floor to was a relic and every now and then you'd here a crack as one of the diggers feet plunged through the floor boards and into the mud. So when one of the guys worked out how to turn the lighting on it was quite a relief. With the lights on one could gain a real appreciation of how this place was constructed. Quite an impressive engineering feat.

Apart from the standard rooms stored with all sorts of nick-knacks, there was a movie theatre, sound studio, various officers, boss's headquarters and residence, water station, library, diesel station....etc...

The temptation to stay down there the night and potter around a few rooms, maybe browse through the library, was a hard to resist. Somehow though, I don't think Nastya would have agreed with me and so after a few hours we surfaced and to our surprise day had turned to night.

"Infected and Happy New Year" - Typical black Russian humour.

"Boss's Headquarters"- "Yeah, is that Donatella? Can we order the next range in a slightly darker tinge of green?"

Subterranean!

I have heard a few mysterious rumors from the locals about them, and I have read just a few snippets of information on them, but in general very little information is available on the myriad of catacombs beneath Vladivostok. This vast maze of tunnels, closed off from the rest of the world, is a back up city underneath another city. Its purpose - a complete refuge for all of Vladivostok's residents, in case of a nuclear strike. Driving around town, I would often think that under the very road I was on, there might be a couple of bomb shelters connected by the odd cramped tunnel. However nothing could have prepared me for what I was about to see! Digger day started normally enough. Cold at -15, but the blue skies left me excited and optimistic at the thought that finally I was to explore the unknown. A student of mine, Valera, sent through a text, " Nic, are you ready? We'll meet at the Lazor Monument at 16:20. Please bring torch, water-proof boots, camera and passport. My reply, "Valera, why my passport?" His follow up, "Just in case." What did "just in case" mean? I knew that these tunnels were off limits to the public, but was there a real risk of trouble. The last thing I needed was to get caught up in some international espionage scandal. I can see the headline now "Aussie teacher/spy caught snooping in secret Russian tunnels." Well, international scandal or not, I was committed. I was going underground! And I was also late to pick up my fellow colleague Serge and rendezvous at the monument with Valera and the rest of the diggers. Vladivostok's Diggers are a group of young adventures, who risk being strung up by the authorities, in the pursuit to explore, photograph and document Vlad's subterranean twin. I just happened to teach one of their newest recruits in Valera and luckily was offered this unique opportunity. As a matter of fact, I felt very fortunate and strangely like a modern day Indiana Unsworth-Jones.
And so there we were, group of 3 Diggers, Serge and I trudging up a little side-street right in the heart of Vladivostok. "The entrance is just over here," Valera panted as he pointed to some thick undergrowth just off the side-street. I was a little skeptical, and couldn't see any resemblance of a door and we were right out in the open where all of us could be seen. So much for that romantic ideal of a secret, hidden away from the rest of the world. "Quick get under here", one of the Diggers whispered. "We can't be seen anywhere near this spot!"
Under the thick scrub we scampered and low and behold there it was. One enormous steel door! It was nothing like I had imagined. Its sheer size and thickness was imposing. Valera had mentioned that one of the Diggers had a key and so I envisaged maybe a large padlock or something resembling a lock. No such chance, this was literally a wall of steel with a strange partial hole in its centre. Nothing like a keyhole. Getting in all of a sudden locked highly unlikely. Hang on what's this, from out of one of the Digger's bags emerged a meter long metal crow bar like stick complete with a turning handle. Aaha so there was a key! Although, it wasn't as simple as putting the stick in the hole and turning it around. The Digger operating the enormous "key" turned and turned the key as if cracking a safe and after a few minutes simply stopped and announced that's it! The door of course didn't just pop open as it would in the movies; it took three of us, using all our strength, to pry the heavy beast open. Out came the heavy duty flash lights and into the pitch black of the tunnel we entered.

Stoyanka mayhem!

OK, now that I've calmed down, I can retell this little miss hap, that could have been far worse than it turned out. The plan this morning was a simple trip to the doctors. I've had this dry cough for the last 2 months and someone suggested a brilliant idea, "maybe you should go to the doctors?"
So 8am this morning I stepped out of the pod'ezd and into a completely different landscape. What were once roads and footpaths were now one big ice-skating rink. Cool, I thought, until taking my very first step and in doing so nearly re tearing my groin. This was impossible. People were either moving at a snails pace or ceremoniously upended on their rumps.
"So the walk to the stoyanka to pick up the car would take a bit longer. Big deal!"
Upon reaching the stoyanka, my only thought was getting in the car and getting warm. "Alarm, please work!" I prayed. In the last few months my car alarm has been acting as fickle as a gay boy from New Farm. "Please work first go!" I pushed the button and heard music to my ears, the irritating beep beep of the alarm disabling. "Great, all would be OK", I thought as I reached for the handle. Hang on, why is the alarm off but the door doesn't open ?
I pushed the disable button again, beep beep, off went the alarm but the locking nob in the car stayed down! It didn't budge! It was frozen stiff. "Oh ch#!$t!" Being a small stoyanka I had parked in numerous other commuters eager to get to work. This could turn ugly.
Running around to the other side I tried the alarm again and for a split second the locking knob on the passenger side flicked up and back down. There was my chance. With the reflexes of a BBC 400 meter champion, I hit the alarm and opened the car door in one Usain Boltishly quick maneuver. "Yeah, still got it!"
Felling rather proud of myself, I clambered into the car and started the engine. Now for the next task, cleaning the windscreen of ice while waiting for the car to heat up. A usual chore for the Russified Aussie. So, leaving the car running, music blaring and my precious manbag, (containing passport, phone, wallet and all other necessary documents just to be allowed to walk down the street in Russia) in the car, I got out and closed the door..........................
IT LOCKED AGAIN!
This was bad, correction this is Russia. I hate to sound so pessimistic but if it's bound to go pear shape, well in Russia it'll go watermelon shape. Keys in the ignition, phone and wallet on the front seat, shansong pumping out of the speakers, DOORS LOCKED AND ME STANDING OUTSIDE IN -20 DEGREE WEATHER! What could be worse? Well, I'll tell you, 10 very disgruntled bear-like Russian men staring daggers at you. I had to move the car! AND quick! Should I break the window, no that'll be a last resort. I know, ask the toothless security guard Ura, he'll know what to do. Ura proceeds then in Russian, to explain the art of breaking into a car with the use of a few matches, piece of chewing gum, string and well that's about as in depth as my Russian obscure vocab goes. No, maybe I'll have to break the window after all.
Time was running out. The chance of my car being crumpled up into a little square box that you see at the wreckers, by the 10 parked in bears, who were keen to get to work or eat their next child, was very likely. Therefore I rushed home in the vain hope that Nastya would know what to do.
Well she did. I never knew about the spare key and alarm! Only a Russian would keep something like this form her husband. Maybe it's like the wife's version of a zanachka! Anyway, I don't know why it was hidden away and I don't even want to try an work out WHY? The Russian psyche is too complex to even try and scratch the surface. Just accept that in it's weird and wonderful way it actually works.
And the car door eventually opened. Urhaa!!!

Here comes WINTER!

Well, I'm not complaining. Here I am sitting at home, classes cancelled, catching up on a bit of Russian study. The reason, snow! Not bucket loads of it, but enough to seize the city of Vlad and force EF to cancel all evening classes. You see, Vlad's traffic is impossible on a good day, let alone one which sees rain, sleet and snow falling. The cities buildings are dotted around it's never ending rolling hills and as the temperature is due to drop to a chilly -20 degrees this evening, the roads will be inevitable carnage for any motorist game enough to challenge mother nature.
Strange, because this morning was a barmy 5 degrees. The forecast however for the next few days is in the - 20s. And yes, yet another Global Warming record; today was the first December day to record rain in Vladivostok.
Some interesting news on my behalf. Nastya and I will be heading to the big smoke, Moscow!
I have one more week left at EF. Then it's off to Oz in order to renew my visa and spend time sweating my butt off with the family for Christmas, before heading to the capital to take up a teaching position with Mayokovskaya EF. The adventures continue! Who knows what wild and wacky Russian impressions will eventuate when we embark on this next expedition.
But before Moscow I've got some serious reporting to do. The next few weeks will see me tackling some of Vlad's more peculiar sites. It's going to be Sightseeing, Bizarro World style.
The agenda will include:
1. A visit to Vlad's Mafia graveyard.
2. A trip through some of Vlad's radiation infested secret underground tunnels.
3. A couple of dips in the frozen Pacific Ocean.

Quite the adventures itinerary! Just hope I'll survive to tell the tale.

Yep still here in Vladivostok!

OMG, 6 months without a posting! Well you all probably think that life here in Vlad has become somewhat mundane and therefore Nic and Nastya have dropped into a routine where nothing of interest happens. On the contrary, life over the last 6 months has been one of complete turmoil. Life has been flat out like a lizard drinking, in and out of the country, high tea with my now close friends the officials of UFMS (Federal Migration Service Organisation) and a social calender that would make Paris Hilton or Ksenya Sobchak green with envy!

The stories are endless and it is a shame I haven't kept the journal up to date. One good thing however, is that some of the past experiences have been so epic that they've left a permanent scar in my memories. Particularly the trouble over my dreaded visa!!!

I know visa regulations all over the world are messed up and as baffling as Georgia's Mikheil Sakaashvili's tie eating fetish, but now I can truly appreciate the beauty that is Russia's never ending bureaucracy.

After getting back from Australia in early August, with a brand spanking new 3 month Work visa in my hot little hands, I was told from Moscow that the extension process was a formality and the visa issue was now easy as pie. This is the point where all foreigners should stand and take note!!! Words like "don't worry", "everything will be OK" and "it's as easy as pie" translate to s$#t is about to hit the fan! Now it's easy, when someone says "Nic, don't worry" I worry. But it has taken a year and a half to let this cultural displacement sink in. So, as my 3 month working visa came to a close I find out that it is not just a formality to extend it and that Moscow's word on the matter is not binding. "The Primorsky Krai has it's own edict on the extension procedure!" The result being once again, in the space of two months, I would have to leave the country and apply for yet another visa.

And so in on the 22ND of September off to Seoul I went with a new invitation letter and the hope that the Russian Consulate would grant me a new visa. Well it was a success, and like all things in Russia they somehow manage to work themselves out. The reasons are often blurred and dubious but the end result is a green light and all is fine for the next three months at least.

Contact!

As I took my seat on the Korean flight 987, a sudden flash of horror crossed my mind. Would this be the last I see of my beloved Vladivostok? What a way to go! Definitely not the fairytale end to the "Russian Expedition".
My Mother keeps insisting that I was deported and looking back on it now that wasn't far from the truth. I had left so much behind, so much I still wanted to do, to achieve, friends, colleagues, family and my wife. One day there, the next gone! It was a horrendous way to go out. No presents for the family, half finished jobs at work and a suitcase full of dirty laundry. The "evacuation" took less than 12 hours and left me feeling completely guttered, heart broken, detached and giddy with no control over my life. Why does immigration have to be so complicated, especially when it's your family being ripped apart? So much uncertainty, so many unanswered and unanswerable questions. At the bottom of all this chaos there was my wife, Nastya, bravely waving goodbye, wondering if we would overcome the next juggernaut- A new working visa.
Somewhere in the skies over the Sea of Japan I passed out, helpless, exhausted and completely baffled.
How had the last year effected me? The answers continue to hit me everyday. Even as I sit here today, five days back in Brisbane, a certain profound objectivity surrounds all I see and do. Balance! Life now can be compared. It can be pulled apart and looked at through completely different eyes. Balance in you as a person. The messages is clear, I have changed but to what extent is still unclear and continually evolving everyday. Reflection, waters this strange but enlightening time in my life.
Australia, what does it mean to you? During my time in Vladivostok, the Russians were very curious as to what it meant to be Australian. Why did we still have the Queen on our money? Why weren't we a republic? Were all other Australians, sports mad adventures like myself? Stereotypically, the Russians look at Australia as a strange land, full of deadly animals, clean water and high living standards, but that is as far as it goes.
Personally, I hadn't heard a peep of any news from back home except for one of the Russian bank advertisements, gloating on the fact that they had more members then the entire population of Oz. Oh yeah, also, a couple of weeks before leaving, Australia was named as the fattest nation on earth, but that was all the news I had heard.
Had much changed? Had I changed? Questions still very much up in the air. Over the last year I had run into only one other Aussie, so I was chomping at the bit to reanalyze my own kind. It didn't take long as I hauled my luggage to gate 21, Seoul , Flight 123 heading for Brisbane. There they were, Australians in all there 'ocker' glory. The first thing I noticed was how friendly everyone was, or so they appeared to be. My Russification had taught me to beware the superficial western smirk, for contempt may lie beneath. However this negativity was soon abandoned as one bloke asked me, "How ya going mate? "Where have ya been?"
It was refreshing to say the least, a certain childish naivety the Brits and Americans don't possess but pleasant nevertheless. People were actually smiling at one another for no particular reason, odd, but strangely familiar.
These were my compatriots, happy-go-lucky, exuberantly friendly and dressed atrociously! What happened to the glamour, the stilettos and the impeccable ladies hair dos? Well, it had been replaced with joggers, tracky dacks and bad travel hair. I hate to sound sexist, but I'm just calling it as I saw it that day. The blokes were generally better groomed that the women. Styled metro sexual hair with shaved shinny legs, they left the women for dead with their birds nest, bed head hair and baggy prison style track pants. A clear case where comfort should never override style. I was left flabbergasted and a little disappointed at the average Aussies civilian wardrobe.

What the? Brisbane.!!!

Over 60 years ago Winston Churchill said "Russia is a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma," and sitting here back in Brisbane, Australia I couldn't agree more.
What a whirlwind last 24 hours. One minute I'm planning the next day's classes the next I'm on a plane, getting the hell out of Dodge.
It all started two days ago when I had to extend my registration. I had a flight booked to come back to Australia for the 12th, however my registration expired on the 1st. This presented a problem as for some reason I was finding it difficult to find a company to prolong the registration. With nowhere else to turn I asked my well connected father in-law for a hand and thought all would be fine and dandy. However, in Russia fine and dandy equates to #*#* yourself scared!
Tolya returned with an unusually glum look on his face. The puppet master couldn't pull any strings and so there was a problem! I would have to go to the head honcho of registrations and plead my case. The problem itself is still, as I sit here in Brisbane, rather confusing to account and one day I will write a detailed description of the full dilemma.
After a solid berating from the head honcho, it was understood that an imminent departure was in need. That, or a 400 00o Ruble fine and a 5 year ban from the country! What followed was absolute bedlam. A ticket was booked, amazingly for 5.30pm the next day, but before getting on the plane I had to make a trip back to the head honcho and discuss and finalise some "paperwork". The use of the word "paperwork" in Russia covers a range of topics, situations, bookwork sensitive issues, etc.... Can't go into it all right now.
The catch was that the Honcho only worked between 2-4pm and I had to be at the airport at 3.30pm. Vlad's airport, by the way, is an hour out of town. So, in effect I had half an hour to see this woman , organise my mess and 'hare-tail it' to the airport. It was going to be close but I was quietly confident as I had backup in the form of Nastya, the director from EF another Nastya and Tolya. Nastya the director and I had attempted, on the off chance, to intercept the Honcho out of her work hours at 9 that morning, to no avail. And so re arriving outside the building 2 hours before opening we felt sure we would be first in line. That was until, we saw a little Kazakh man, holding a piece of cardboard from a chocolate box. "Is there a queue?"we asked. His answer was brutal as he passed over the empty chocolate box. To our horror the innocuous box had on it a list of people waiting to talk to the Honcho and we were 12th in line. My world came crashing in upon me. This was it, I would never make it top the airport! Visions of Russian prisons flashed through my mind. Enter Super Tolya!!
Swinging into action my father-in-law, like a man possessed, began interrogating everyone in his vicinity. It didn't take long, but before we knew it, he had made "friends" with the cleaner and was unbelievably, inside the building talking to the authorities. The rest is history and I'm still very confused over what actually happened, but as we left the the registration building the big high five to the cleaner spoke volumes!
After a mad dash to the airport I had made it. A little frazzled and a few more gray hairs, but I made it on board without any incident.

Summer Time! Not Cricket Time!

Well, Summer is here and with it come a variety of new social quirks and idiosyncrasies. Russian's adore the sun! Any chance to whip the gear off, adorn the super mini skirt and don the socks and sandals, is taken full advantage of. The summer fashion is amazing! Amazingly shocking! Don't get me wrong, the ladies clothing, or more to the point, lack of, is rather eye catching. No complaints there. However, the guys on the other hand seriously need help!

To start with, the socks and sandals/thongs/slides is rampant, as if it represents the epitome of summer"cool"! It doesn't stop there, for some reason as soon as the sun appears, out come the all white outfits. ALL WHITE! From head to toe, it's not hard to confuse many of the men for professional cricket players. Oh yeah, another style ground breaker is the open shirt look. Normally undertaken with the mandatory white linen shirt, this look works especially well on windy days, after the gentleman has had a belly busting feed and has adorned the very necessary gold bike chain. It's a crowd stopper, oh yeah, I forgot, the hairier the belly the better.

Men's hair cuts remain pretty much the same regardless of the season, brushed down, with a deadly accurate straight fringe. The hair dressers must all graduate from the same academy because every cut is a carbon copy of the next. You wouldn't believe how hard it is to buy hair wax. It's as rare as hens teeth.

So, in case you're wondering what else the bewildered Aussie has been up to, apart from critiquing the local fashion scene, I been following most of the other traditional Russian Summertime activities. Shashliking, taking the odd country getaway, drinking, swimming, sun bathing and not cruising the streets, shirtless proudly showing off the knee length socks and sandals. I may have been Russified to a degree, but this is one crime I'll never commit.

Country getaway.

Russian Island

Once on the island the events on the ferry miraculous disappeared. In front of me was a natural wonderland. Quiet, unspoilt, with nature wildly growing in every direction, Russian island presented itself as a complete contrast to the hustle and bustle of Vladivostok. Being a port city Vlad has a rep of being a wild town where anything goes. It's population might only be around the 800 000 mark, however the city itself is constantly on the go and one could easily be mistaken that you are in a thriving metropolis.

Russian Island, a short 45min ferry ride away, is a little (amazingly) unspoilt oasis away from the port's lawless hysteria. Once a huge complex of forts, the island now is the residence of only a hand full of Russians, who commute back to the mainland everyday for work. I was rather taken back by the surroundings. Rolling hills and lush forests backing up to cliffs and coastline the island is pristine and void of litter!!! This last point alone highlights the fact that not to many day trippers make the journey across form Vlad.

We set off as a group up through the forest towards one of the forts. The trek was spectacular, ocean lapping the shore to our left and dense forest to our right, whilst a thick mist rolled in from the ocean. Fog and mist are a normal springtime phenomena here and coming form Brissy, I am still in awe whenever murkiness descends.

Once at the fort the view was almost apocalyptic. Stretching out in front of me, both the ocean and sky were indistinguishable. As I stood looking out over the ocean all that was in front of me was gray murkiness. It looked as if we had reached the end of the earth. Turning away from this eerie sight and looking back at the island I was met with another fascinating sight. Billowing gusts of mist were rolling in from the sea and enveloping the island like a blanket.

I was completely sold on the island. Such a natural gem. Perfect! Hold on a second. Nothing is perfect and my awe soon turned into horror as I discovered that the island is home to some mad killers! Not the weird outback, chain-saw wielding type but the almost microscopic insect type.

Ticks!! These guys are extremely venomous and can kill. The month of May is "tick time" just about all over Russia and Russian Island being the pristine natural paradise is home to a huge population of them. Well, there goes my retirement dreams. No way in the world is a little tick going to take me out!

Sea and sky. Where does one finish and one end.

Standing on one of the forts.

Topsy Turvy

Expect the unexpected! I guess it's all part of the appeal. Russian life is a rapidly evolving creature, where anything is possible. It really is an exciting place to be. Democracy is only 16 years old, in a country with a vast history and so change is the order of every day. The people here are fanatical about getting a head creating a “Wild West” attitude towards business where just about anything goes. Coming from the sanctity and reliability of Australia, this topsy turvy lifestyle is shocking, entertaining and has a raw originality that is rather addictive.
Life is moving and nothing is set in concrete.
The examples are endless. Yesterday’s weather was a sunny 18 degrees, today after an impenetrable fog descended over the city the mercury plummeted into the single digits. Visibility now is 10 meters at best. Tomorrow, who knows what will be ditched up?
Last weekend, as part of the schools extra curricular activities, a trip to Russian Island fort was organized. Or should I say disorganized! The event started normally enough, until it came time to board the ferry, when all mayhem broke out. Something went wrong with the purchasing of tickets and the result was a major scuffle where our guilds for the excursion were up-ended and thrown back onto the pier. It wasn’t only us; other passengers were being pushed back off the ship, with one gentleman being separated from his wife. It was like a scene from a war tragedy, the wife screaming for her husband, the husband fighting through the soldiers (ferry attendants) to be reunited.
What followed was pretty ugly; punches were exchanged as the man forced himself on board. The whole experience left me scratching my head and putting it all down to just another day in Russia.

Labour and Victory Day

Two weeks, two parades and yet another two jam packed weekends.

The 1st of May was huge. I never thought a Labour Day march could attract so much enthusiasm and fanfare. Actually, I never thought I would even go to one of these things let alone enjoy the whole process. Maybe that's because one Nicholas Unsworth-Smith donned the fluorescent orange "Primorskie Avto Dorogi" (Primorski Automobile Roads) safety vest and marched along side Vlad's proudest. That's right, I managed to utilise my amazing powers of espionage and slide my way into the workers' parade. Well it sounded like a cool story. In reality I just happened to know someone who hooked me up. Anyway, the experience was none the less exciting. Thousands of people lining the streets, placards, balloons, drums and the odd drunken marcher, made the march unforgettable. My position in the parade was right behind a group of these odd drunken marchers. It was hilarious, whilst assembling into position these proud old workers, from out of nowhere produced bottle after bottle of vodka. Now, we had to assemble a good hour and a half before the actual start and so it wasn't long before these guys were swaying in the wind. One bloke was completely legless, literally, and I bet Sasha that he wouldn't last 20 meters of the march. How wrong I was, for when the cue came to begin, somehow the guys actually moved with some sort of order. Sure they were a little wobbly but they marched and marched on! Huge respect, any mere mortal would have collapsed or needed his mate to prop him up. All I could put it down to was years of experience.

The next weekend after Labour Day was Den' Pobedy or Victory Day. What a holiday! I mean just the significance of this holiday is awe inspiring. The day commemorates the Soviet Union beating the fascists all the way back to Germany. 30 something million of these guys were sacrificed, a mind boggling figure considering our whole population is only 20 something. There were more Russian soldiers killed than that of the total allied forces combined. There are many phenomenal statistics that are just incomprehensible. During the Leningrad siege, for example, in the Winter months 11-12000 people were dieing, that's more than a Gallipoli everyday! So with such devastation why wouldn't you commemorate, celebrate, toast the night away to VICTORY!

The parade itself was huge and in Moscow rehearsals started 3 months ago. Unfortunately for me the overwhelming crowds meant a very limited view point. The fact that I arrived 2 and half hours beforehand to position myself was a completely futile gesture. So it is difficult for me to comment on what actually happened.

Following the parade however, a group of us traveled out to Jeff's dacha or country house for the night. Toast after toast for victory ensured the 0 degree temperature was not even an issue.

Victory Day in the country.

Khabarovsk

Chalk and cheese! The differences were so shockingly blatant I thought I had traveled to another country. As I've mentioned before Nastya has been on a business trip for the last two weeks in Khabarovsk. Life without moya golubka has been trying and so last weekend I decided to take the 12 hour train trip to K-town and see Nastya. The official capital of The Far East, I had heard varying reviews of the city and so wanted to check the place out for myself.

The two lords of the East are 1000 km away from each other, geographically quite close by Russian standards, however worlds apart when it comes to just about everything else.

The two sibling cities share a certain affinity with each other as they are stuck out here in the East, isolated for the rest of Russia. They are roughly about the same size and are both ports, Khabarovsk being a river port and Vlad a sea port. And that's where the similarities come to a screeching halt!

Cars actually stopped at pedestrian crossing! Streets were litter free! Buildings were actually maintained! K-town at first resembled an old Soviet city caught in a time warp. A far cry from the hustle and bustle of hectic Vlad. The main street Muravieva-Amurski is gorgeous and well worth strolling its length from Lenin Square to the mighty Amur River. I was enraptured, I'd fallen in love with K-towns quaint boulevard, I was converted , I want to move here.

Hang on did I say quaint, let me rephrase, bloody boring. All that cleanliness, that politeness and that maintenance of Khabarovsk was suddenly washed away as I reached Naberezhnaya, (the waterfront) and the mighty Amur. This was the place where everyone was supposed to hang out. Naberezhnya in Vlad is a people watches paradise, but here not a sole was seen. Don't get me wrong it had potential, beautiful location, view and plenty of benches to sit and down a brew. But I was the only one there! That's right in a city of nearly 1 million, I was the only cruiser in what should be cruiser's paradise.

Khabarovsk is beautiful, just a little slow and boring. Restaurant service was painstakingly slow and no one seems to mind if you have to wait 45 min for a slice of cheese cake.

The nightlife however was a different story. K-town local Alexei, whom I met on the train, took Nastya and I to one of the most amazing clubs I've ever seen. "Nebo" or "Sky" is a 3 story club with a glass roof and aeronautical decor. It is literally set in the sky. Very cool place and once again the boy to girl ratio was learning heavily to the feminine side.

Arriving in Khabarovsk.Yes, that is snow and there is only one more month until Summer!!!???

Beautiful Muravieva-Amurski Street.

Natya, me and Alexei relaxing "Nebo" style, sky high.

Haven't dropped off the face of the earth.

Two weeks and no blog entry. Yes, I have been a busy boy. Been here, there and everywhere. The longer I stay in Russia the more I hectic it seems to get.

Let's start with the 16th of April, my Birthday. Nastya was away on yet another business trip and so I was left alone to celebrate. Now here in Russia if it's your Birthday you are almost obliged to have some sort of shindig. No flying under the radder here, as someones Birthday is yet another excuse to crack open a bottle and party! Interestingly here is where the cultural difference comes in. If it's your Birthday you must do everything. Meaning, you must cater, pay and organise the whole celebration. No splitting up the bill at the restaurant, if it's your Birthday you pay for all the guests.

The same follows at work, where the tradition has been set that if it's your Birthday you must hold a party and therefore do all the catering. At EF, just about every week, a staff member has a party and out come all the goodies and grog. Each persons do tends to run the same course. The catering is rather predictable. The same old food platters with kolbasa, cheese, ogurets, fruit, cake and champagne are has regular as the buses around here. Something needed to be done to break this monotony.

Enter the Aussie twist to the compulsory Russian work Birthday party. On the 16th out came the snags, white bread, tomato sauce and beers. You ripper, it was a little bit of Australiana right here in Vladiviostok. Not too sure how it all went down, although everything that I provided was gobbled down in the blink of an eye.

Once the food was set then the toasting began.

Gorky Park

Haven't had a creative minute to spare in order to fill everyone in on the whirlwind of a week! To start with, last weekend was splendid. I got to meet rock legends "Gorky Park"! Well actually I ran the press conference for them. Now, many of you are probably scratching your heads and thinking, "who the"? Well let me tell you, the band were the first Russian rock group to hit the worldwide music scene. At the time of Glasnost and Perestroika they were the first to escape the shackles of communism and sign a record deal in the US. They hit the big time when Russian, American relations were thawing and the world wanted to find out what was behind the iron curtain. They had a couple of hits in the late 80s early 90s and then fell into obscurity. However, in Russia they live forever, pioneers of the international music scene.

"Bang Bang" and "Moscow Calling" were two of their hits and if I must say so, are bloody unreal!

If you're a fan of cheesy, late 80s Rock and love the likes of "Motley Crue", "Bon Jovi" and "Skid Row" then check out these spandex wearing, long haired louts on youtube: "Gorky Park!

Press Conference with "Gorky Park"

Following my brush with fame it was off the the footy. Little "Luch" (Vlad's soccer team) was once again up against one of the powerful Moscow teams in Saturn.

Luch Energia is the classical underdog. Just one player from Saturn's, Zenit's or another high profile, cash rich, club form the west, is worth the same as Luch's whole team. Not only are we up against far better paid players, but every fortnight the team must fly to Moscow, St Petes or somewhere near (10-12 hours) and fight jet lag, fanatical support and the arrogance of western Russia.

I love it! Sure our team has the odds stacked up against us, but we punch well above or weight. I've always supported the underdog, the little guy, the one who is not expected to win and Luch is just that little man. With so much against them you'd think winning is rare, and you're right. But when they win, especially against the pompous Moscow clubs, the win is like a grand final, very, very sweet.

Oh by the way, we drew nil all against Saturn and sit at 12th position on the Russian Premier League table. One place below last years champion Zenit (St Petersburg)! Raaahhhh! Fear the hicks from the east coast! Passion and pride conquers fame and fortune!

The three foreign stooges! Oz, US and England.

Davai Luch!!!

Shashliking.

Spring is finally here and this weekend the locals and myself took full advantage of the warm weather. OK, sure, 10 degrees is still bloody cold for all you Queenslanders, however, now that I am slowly acclimatising, 10 degrees felt absolutely perfect. Yesterday Nastya and I headed to Naberezhnaya. Forget Cavil Ave, Hastings St and James St, Naberezhnaya is where it's at! An endless parade of Vlad's finest, all checking each other out, as they walk the boardwalk. It really is quite the spectacle and beats Perver's Paradise (Surfers) hands down. Winter has only just finished and the girls here are chomping at the bit, to strut their stuff, in the most revealing outfit. Yesterday would have been 5 degrees, if that, and I saw more mini skirts on the boardwalk than you would at Cavil over a week. The Naberezhnaya experience involves donning your Sunday best, picking up a couple of roadies (stubbies) and then start to strut. Oh I nearly forgot, you can't go without purchasing the obligatory shaurma, or Russian kebab. We waited over half an hour for ours, but boy was it worth it.

The weather stayed pleasant through into today and so a group of us from EF headed to Sanatornaya for Shashliking. Now the great Aussie BBQ is dam hard to beat, however the Russian Sharshlik experience is on a par if not, dare I even think it, one higher. Unfortunately, back home with the fire restrictions you can't just rock up to the BBQ area and get a serious bon fire cranking. The sterile electronic BBQ hotplates found all over the place in Brisbane are safe and environmentally friendly but also detract from the whole open fire, great outdoor cooking process. Nothing beats the smell, the hypnotic flames, the whole primitive cooking on the open fire process, that Shashliking is.

Now what exactly is a Shashlik? Well it's basically a shish kebab. Chunks of meat skewered on to a long skewer and then cooked over hot coals. Vegetarians beware, this is a pure carnivore ritual. As a mater of fact, if you are a vegetarian you my as well come from Mars here in Russia. It's another one of those strange foreign customs like "political correctness" that is so far removed from Russian culture.

Today was great. Meat, beer, kavas, the beach and a roaring fire to ward off the chilly spring weather, what more could you want.

Nastya, shaurma in hand at Naberezhnaya.

Me, Nastya, Nastya form EF, Lena and Anton shashliking.

Rugby in Russia?

I am sitting at home nursing a pretty nasty cold. Funnily enough, it's only now that I am having second thoughts about the Rugby game played in sub zero temperatures on the weekend. At the time it seemed like a great idea. Teaching Russians how to play Rugby, how hard could it be? I mean they've got the size, the aggression and the act now think later attitude, sometimes needed in Rugby, so it seemed a match made in heaven. Only problem was it snowed just 2 days ago, so the weather could be a little off putting, and these guys had never touched a footy, so their skills might need a little fine tuning.

Lifeclub is an extra curriculum activity that EF put on to enhance the students cultural awareness of the English speaking world. We've had seminars on the states of the US, talks on how to obtain that desired foreign company job and last weekend I brought the fundamentals of Rugby to the scholarly table.

They loved it! The game completely suits the Russian psyche; go flat out then prepare to smash or be smashed. Even the kids groups saw the girls mauling the ball off many of the strongest boys.

There were some difficulties of course, the offside rule was hard to enforce and for some reason forward passes kept reoccurring. Maybe it's their close affinity to soccer that was confusing them. Confusion aside the day was extremely enjoyable and I believe I have converted many to the gentleman's game, girls included. The 2 degree weather was a complete afterthought of which I am suffering for now. Russian Rugby I believe has a future!

The next lifeclub I'm planning to introduce Aussie Rules to the locals. It will rule out the whole offside, forward pass thing and suit most Russians as height here seems to be in abundance. Although I will wait until it is a little warmer.

About 2 degrees: check the guys wearing just t-shirts! By the way, that grass is fake but very realistic looking.

2 days before kick-off: view from my balcony window! Lovely Spring weather.

Banya, but only for the boys!

Last week was pretty run of the mill, and so when the weekend ticked by I was very keen on making the most of it. Saturday, as I drove into work through the heavy snow, my mind began to drift. Not on the job at hand, which was to prepare for an individual student, but on what to do that evening. Clubs, bars, cafes: no, what I wanted to do was something a bit more extreme. So when Jeff rang with the offer of a banya mission, I jumped. "Only there's one catch" said Jeff. "It's a guys' only affair".

I had heard a little about the all male banya tradition and to be frank, I was a little dubious as to what to expect. As I've mentioned before, the banya is a social hub for friends to gather, eat, drink, wash, scrub, steam yourself and then beat the hell out of each other with a branch off a tree, known as the venik. Information regarding the all male version is mysteriously sketchy.

"What happens in the banya stays in the banya" was the comment I received when I asked one of my colleagues about this obscure male bonding ritual. Hmm, I thought, this could be an interesting night. Curiosity was definitely ignited. It was to be Jeff's brother-in-law's Birthday and 20-30, salt of the earth, hardcore banya connoisseurs, were to be in attendance.

This curiosity only intensified after telling Nastya of my plans. She looked at me in horror and rolled her eyes , as if to say " oh my god".

And so, upon entering the banya that evening many weird and wonderful thoughts ran through my mind. All of which were pretty true! Never have I seen so many naked, drunk heterosexual men completely oblivious to any sort of personal embarrassment. One hefty bloke, after thrashing himself with the venik, completely starkers came flying out of the steam room and forward somersaulted into the 2m plunge pool. Another chap knocked himself out, after slipping and banging his head on the tiles, he wasn't rushed to hospital or told to call it a night, but was sat down and given the Russian treatment for concussion, a beer.

The night was absolutely crazy. 30 naked men, drinking, saunaring, playing pool, table tennis, swimming, arm wrestling and just having a good old chin wag.

Strangely, by the end of the evening I was asking when the next one was on. "Every Saturday night" Gena slurred. Oh God, what I am getting myself into.

Davai Luch Energia!

Just arrived back from my first taste of Russian Premier League Football and boy am I pumped!

Luch, (Vlad's home team), just drew with Moskva FC. Sure I've been to plenty of sports events, the Rugby, Rugby League, AFL etc.., But nothing like this. To start with there was virtually no build up. Back home two weeks before the Broncs play the TV, radio and newspapers are smothered in Broncos related news. Here, in typical Russian fashion, the build-up was conspicuously Russian, nothing, it seemed was going to happen,- UNTIL the day to competition. Russians have an uncanny ability to leave things to the last minute, play down the hype and act rather indifferent, until a break point. Look at the Revolution, hundreds of years of subjugation and then complete annihilation of the source.

Today's game somewhat confirmed this odd Russian trait. This morning you wouldn't have known that today was Vlad's Premier League season kick-off. No news, no hype and no geriatric morning radio commentators, crapping on about past statistics and probable outcomes. This was the calm before the storm.

I had heard that Russian's are on a par with the Brits with their football fanaticism. However, I was a little sceptical as Dasha, Artyom and Denis pulled up outside our unit block. Scepticism slowly evolved into curious expectation as the 5 of us (Nastya included) drove through the abandoned main streets of Vlad towards Dinamo Stadium. Then as we approached the stadium the build-up I was waiting for, hit me like a punch from nowhere. Streets were closed off to traffic and people sprawled out all over the place. Just like the Rugby only without the build-up.

There was one big difference, however, today was a barmy -2 degrees. How the hell were the players going to perform in these freezing conditions? But more to the point, how the hell were we going to sit and watch?!

Entering the stadium was rather surreal. Wall to wall police. The security was absolutely everywhere and I was frisked no less than 6 times by six different cops. The Russian stadiums hold a zero tolerance rule with alcohol and are extremely vigilant in maintaining this rule.

You may think that a sober crowd equates to a subdued crowed, but here at Dinamo Stadium no such chance. Like any European football match the atmosphere was electric. Chanting, drums beating, smoke bombs exploding and fans hypnotised by the spectacle were all part of the event. Although, unlike the Euro matches, this one was being played at extreme temperatures.

Dasha, Denis, Artyom and I very snug in the stands.Smoke bombs!Maybe the police weren't that vigilant. Take a look at what the two old mates managed to smuggle in.

S 8 Marta

Happy International Women's Day! Not that many of you back home would have celebrated or even known what a special day the 8th of March was. Barley raising one iota of interest in Australia, IWD is HUGE over here. The public holiday sees Russians celebrate women and the accomplishments they have made to society. Men give presents and pretty much do everything for the woman or women in their lives. Partying starts the day before the long weekend at work and employees hit the turps as early as 10 in the morning. Most people start work then! Nastya, who is auditing one of the big firms was told by the female director not to come and ask for information as she was to drunk to be of any help. That was at 10am.


The holiday is rather interesting as it sees Russian women, who generally go over board in the high maintenance stakes, take pruning, pampering and ultimately their presentation to mindboggling new levels! Out come the even more eye catching frocks, the "I've just spent half a week in a hairdresser" hairdos and the all important towering stilettos. Glamors as far as the eye can see. For the guys it poses a captivating sight, gorgeous women dressed to the nines with a "this is my special day" mischievous smirk on their faces.

Nastya and I celebrating the 8th of March.

Part 2- You know you've been in Russia too long when..

21. ..you walk into a crowded room and shake absolutely every man's hand.
22. ..you second guess shaking someones hand over the threshold of an entry.
23. ..political correctness is just a silly foreign concept.
24. ..you don't even think twice about donning that fur coat or hat.
25. ..you forget what someone with dark skin looks like.
26. ..you stop and stare at the dark skinned one with the rest of them.
27. ..you forget there are gay people in the world.
28. ..the words plan and improvise become synonyms.
29. ..you actually see a woman not wearing high heel.
30. ..Oh my God, you buy a man bag!
31. ..you absolutely never leave home without polishing your shoes.
32. ..you start to develop callouses on your elbows from arm wrestling.
33. ..arm wrestling overuse injuries become a constant battle.
34. ..you think of a toast before every drink.
35. ..chasers change from lemon and coke to black bread, pickles, sausages and even a whiff of the index finger.
36. ..after a strong shot, you headlock the nearest woman and smell her hair.
37. ..you've seen a 10 Ruble note, by itself, transform into a paper crane.
38. ..you know all the words to Status Quo's "You're in the Army Now".
39. ..you forget that Disco once upon a time, died.
40. ..you think Boney M is still in the charts.

Don't get caught without your STILETTOS!

Stilettos and Russian women are synonymous with each other. Nowhere else have I seen such mandatory devotion. Forget about New York, Milan and Paris, here the stiletto reigns supreme for every occasion. Picture this, it's -20 degrees outside, the ground is a slippery death trap for any pedestrian, let alone a stiletto packing one, and every girl and woman is battling on through the snow, over the ice with her towering pumps on. Quite a sight! Almost majestic as these women balance, as if walking the tight rope, across a surface so unpredictable, one false move spells pain!
I've lost count of how many times I've unceremoniously gone arse over tit. This time of year sees the hospital wards packed with thousands of embarrassed victims who have succumbed to the ice. My good friend San Deep was one such unlucky victim, smashing his arm into a million pieces as his feet were whisked away from underneath him.
For the women here however, a strange evolutionary trait has occurred. Very rarely do you see the high heel wearing lady stack it. It always seems to be the fashion conscious gentleman who bites the dust. Has the stiletto just become like an extension to their natural body?
I believe so. Further evidence can be seen in the field of sports. St Petersburg, one of Europe's most enticing cities, is famous for it's architecture, elegance, bridges and now the very dangerous sport of high heel sprinting. Check out the prowess of these high heeled athletes.

You know you've been in Russia too long when..

This list is inspired by a facebook group with the same name. It's absolutely hilarious and very true. The following list are my own comments on how Russia, particularly Vladivostok has effected me.
You know you've been in Russia too long when..

1. ..outside it's -5 and you actually think it's a nice day.
2. ..you forget to put on deodorant and then think, you cares no one else wears it.
3. ..you get cut off 10 times in traffic on the way to work, and not even bat an eyelid.
4. ..you have tea and cake after every meal.
5. ..attempting to cross the street you look both ways, then sprint like Carl Lewis.
6. .. you actually start to like Dima Bilan.
7. ..you actually see an ugly girl.
8. ..you are extremely upset if Luch Energy (Vlad's soccer team) don't make next years premier league cut.
9. ..you think twice about whistling in doors.
10. ..you pull the car over because a black cat just crossed your path, and wait for another car to pass, to claim that bad luck.
11. ..you don't throw the rubbish out, once it's dark.
12. ..it's -20 outside and your standing in the park with a bottle of Baltica beer.
13. ..you actually give holodets a 2nd, 3rd go!
14. ..you actually take reading material with you when you go for a drive, because of the traffic.
15. ..1 meter deep potholes every 50 meters are just another obstacle to dodge, along with pedestrians, cars driving the wrong way and flying plastic bags.
16. ..plastic bags strangled in the tops of trees, actually take on quite a homely feeling.
17. ..you carry a plastic bag with you at all times, but your not sure why.
18. ..the water is turned off and it's not a big deal
19. ..you are shocked when a sales attendant smiles at you.
20. ..you've just finished your 6th shot of Vodka and feel nothing.
This list is only the beginning, another 20 are on the way.

Defenders of the Fatherland Day!

Some of these Russian public holidays are named with such profound conviction. Defenders of the Fatherland Day, formally known as Red Army Day, celebrates the Russian military and therefore all Russian men, (it's the duty of all men to defend the Fatherland). The holiday around Vlad was much like any other long weekend, only with a military twist. Restaurants and clubs were decorated out in military attire and many a toast was dedicated to men in general. Defenders Day is usually celebrated the parades and processions in honor of the veterans. Russian women also give small gifts to the men in their lives, I scored a new belt and an Emporio Armani jumper! This holiday also, acts as a counter part to the 8th of March (International Women's Day), where I'll have to return Nastya the favor and find her something special.

The whole thing is very Russian. Russian machismo is on "red" alert at the best of times, however this holiday not only commemorates, but promotes the wonderful thing that is Russian chivalry. Russian manliness is trapped in somewhat of a time warp were men are men and valor, ruggedness and the ability to arm wrestle at the drop of a hat is imperative. Proving your virility is a constant test, even the gyms have arm wrestling stations and areas for a Sunday arvo Box! Forget about the head gear and mouth guard, just slip on the paper thin gloves and punch the stress out of each other.

Super Babushka!

Well spring is in the air, even though the daytime temperature is still struggling to climb above -5. Strange, I never would have thought -5 could feel warm, but that's exactly how it is here. People are starting to disrobe ever so subtly. One less layer, down grading from the impossibly thick wolf hair socks to the thinner Jack Russell variety, and funnily enough many locals are brave enough to venture outside minus the normally obligatory headwear.
Babushkas (Russian Grannies) all over Russia are up in arms!
The Babushka is not one to mess with. This innocuous looking woman, innocently wrapped in her 500 layers, will stop at nothing to ensure the average Russian citizen is appropriately dressed. That means, don't ditch that beanie until the sweat from your brow starts to sting your eyes!
The other day for example, I was cruising down the street in my merry way, minus any headwear, when I was accosted. From out of nowhere, darted a half-crazed Babushka, arms flailing and inaudibly screeching in my direction. Had I been mistaken for the local thief or was this Babushka just off her rocker!! Ha Ha! Luckily the woman calmed down enough for me to understand what see was unhappy about. I had committed a 1st degree felony in the Babushka book of Russian law: always make sure your head is warm!
Babushkas don't just stop at the head warming offence, sitting on concrete is a big no no, as it can render you infertile (guys and girls). This felony can turn ugly, as I've seen many a Babushka, enhanced by some metaphysical power, lift people twice their size of cold concrete and save them form the dangers of infertility. Who needs Superman and Spiderman when there is an awaiting Babushka around every corner?
People often ask me if it would be hard to raise my child in Russia. Well with millions of Babushkas looking out for their welfare, I think you already know my answer.

Valentine's Day!!! Stud Alert!!! HA HA HA!

Valentine's Day was a buzz around the EF village today. Love was most certainly in the air with students and teachers exchanging gifts and cards. Never have I received so many Valentine cards, 14 in total! I actually topped the teacher popularity contest. Yes yes, quite the ladies man, hang on, correction, quite the adolescent girl man. Most of the cards were from the little girls who point, stare and giggle at the strange foreigner from that weird country where kangaroos out populate people. Anyway at least I've got fans, yeah so did “New Kids on the Block”, “Bros”, “Take That” and Russia's own “Dima Bilan”. Actually “Dima Bilan” still reins supreme when it comes to teen hysteria. Valentine's Day celebrations continue tomorrow night with the school’s party at "Downtown" nightclub. Now, the last time EF held one of these social events I met my unceremonious demise at the hands of a little drink called absinth. Well, no way is that going to happen again even if Jeff my 100kg plus American fellow native teacher throws down the challenge. Anyway, if it comes to a who’s tougher that who contest, I've always got my teenage fan club to back me up. Yeah so “Take That!!!”

Happy Birthday Timo

Yes the 7th of Feb, my brother's Birthday. For those of you who didn't know, Timo lives and studies (medicine) in Perth.
Here he is busting a few moves with Kate. Lookout Ricky Martin, there's a new kid in town!

Cash

I’ve just arrived home after an individual speaking lesson with Lena, (Russian girl studying to pass the IELTS test). The lesson involved going to a cafe and practicing conversational English. Always very interesting for me, as the topics we discuss often are to do with cross-cultural differences.
Today interestingly, we discussed the role cash has in Russia. Here cash is undoubtedly king. Banks are not trusted, ATMs are scarce, credit cards are an oddity and nearly all wages are paid in cash. Yes that’s right I receive my whole monthly wage, in cash, in one hit. It makes for an interesting trip home, wad of cash bulging from my pocket, while at the same time paranoid that someone will notice that yes “that’s not a gun in my pocket and no I’m not just happy to see you”.
I explained to her that the use cash back home is the opposite and is becoming quite rare. It is not uncommon to see people (stupidly) attempt to buy a Coke through EFTPOS. "They don't even carry $2 on them" I said. I continued on explaining that all big transactions, e.g. buying a car, house etc, were done through the banks, where cash is stored but rarely seen.
Russia is a completely different story. People buying a $70 000 car or a $200 000 flat will pay in cash! That’s right people will rock up to the negotiating table with a suit case full of money and just plonk it down. Just like the "Godfather" movies, however these people aren't gangsters they’re average Joes. It's the normal way to pay for something. Where the hell do you keep that sort of money if not for the bank? Well as I’ve now been informed, you keep it at home. Hmmm, yes that would explain the popularity of the very becoming steel fortress like doors that are so ubiquitous. Oh yes, come to think of it hat would also explain the 3 hidden pin hole camera, double steel door entrance at Nastya’s parents.

Property

I just love this shot Kate took while she was over. It is a typical Russian style house here in Vlad and is worth an absolute fortune. Not the house itself but the land. Vlad's property is booming and with the 2012 APEC summit on its way and the lack of building projects around town, slowing down isn't an option. Property prices here are ridiculous. I've seen two bedroom apartments (slums), far from livable for around $300 000. Remember that the average wage over here is around $5oo-600 US a month and interest rates are as high as 14%, making property virtually impossible to get into. These guys have got it really tough in the trying to get ahead stakes. Returns are absolutely phenomenal. Russian's will spend more than half their wage on rent and nearly the rest on food (which is only marginally cheaper than back home). I really don't know how some of them survive. I know there is a lot of under the table deals between employer and employee; nevertheless it still makes for tough living.

Home

A strange thing happens after a while living in a foreign country, it starts to become home. Sure, everyday is still unique and full of new adventures, however after a while familiarity sets-in. Living abroad gives you balance, allows your mind be become more objective. It opens up new possibilities and redefines your "home".
How many times have you heard from someone, who has just arrived back to Oz, after a month away and say, “it really lets you appreciate how good we've got it back home." I tend to disagree with these sort comments and before you start thinking "what a sell out", please hear me out. This type of person as not given the place they are returning from a fair go. One, two months of cruising around a new country does not, I believe, give one the ascendancy to comment. Give it a real go! Find a job, pay the bills, rent an apartment, buy a car, set yourself up exactly the way you would at "home" and then start your reflections. Only then does a beautiful thing start to occur. You find new friends, new local hangouts, familiar restaurants, new activities; you start to get to know the locals and feel a certrain affinity towards them. "Home" takes on a new definition. You start to consider the possibility that this new place could be my second home.

Enjoying the Kalyan at one of my local haunts.

Too cold to go out - Harden the #!#! up!

Ok sure, the weather is cold! I think I've made that quite clear. However, what you probably don't know, is what happens to all the people when the mercury drops into the bowels of the thermometer. Empty streets, images of an Arctic ghost town, desolate frozen town squares, well this couldn't be further from the truth. I know it is hard to believe for all you Cheimaphobic
Brisbaneites, who refuse to set foot outside, when those "wicked" westerlies push the temperature down to a city stopping 12 degrees. However, here in Vlad, be it +12 or -22 the show just never stops. That fact that you just happen to forget your gloves and are starting to experience the early stages of frost bite, is absolutely no excuse for not meeting up with mates for a beer in the park. (That's right guys, drinking in public is allowed and for young guys as common as going to the pub back home.) Every night of the week as I walk home from the car park, youngsters cram the park benches, gather closely in the outside entrances to buildings or just lean up against an ice solid wall and pop the top off a couple. Actually right now outside my window there are a group of teens huddling together and enjoying a very, very cold ale. The fact that it's -22 doesn't seem to effect them.

Using my friend Sasha's favorite adjective it is Vonderful. Constant movement and activity, no matter if your in the centre or in the suburbs, you are guaranteed to see the locals out and about. Walking, hitchhiking, drinking, selling roadside goods, the streets are a continual buzz of activity regardless of the weather.

It's always such a shock going back home to find the streets so deserted, void of any human. Even driving to work through the Valley in the early hours of the morning (workdays) I wouldn't see a sole walking up Brunswick St. Russian cities are like ant farms of pedestrian activity, regardless of time, weather or even if there is a footpath. Why would you jump in the car, in order to get to your local, when you can walk. A little lesson many of our obese country men and women should take note off. Come to think of it I don't remember the last obese Russian I saw. Is there a link between all the walking these guys do and the shape of the average Russian. Well it certainly isn't because they are watching what they eat and drink! That just wouldn't be living.

Even the dogs are oblivious to the weather, check out this little fella!

Granted, he is wearing a coat and booties!

Bolezn' (Sick)

Have been completely out of action for the last week. Came down with a pretty fierce cold and with the weather being so atrocious the recovery has taken longer that expected. No taking a little stroll out side and sitting in the sun to help get over those winter chills.

What a whinge!

Actually I haven't had Internet access for the last week as we forgot to pay for our telephone bill.
Not sure when it'll be put back on.
This posting is being done in haste at EF after my final class of Friday the 25th.
Wow tomorrow is Aussie Day- We are planning our own celebrations so I'll keep you up to date with what happens.

Anyway I've had enough of work so I am out of here. Don't worry I 've got so many impressions to inform you all about, just need a little time.

New Year's Celebrations

The plan in theory sounded great. A leisurely drive out to a quaint Russian village (Tavrechanka), where the four of us would join two other couples in order to meet the new year. We had checked out the Dacha the week prior and found it to be more than accommodating. Plenty of room to sleep up to 10 couples, all the important amenities (including an indoor dunny - very important at this time of year) and a pechka (Russian oven) that kept the internal temperature at a cosy 24 degrees. Great we thought, no need for all those extra clothes.
How wrong we were! To start with, the supposed leisurely drive out into the country was more like a scene from "Star Wars", where Han Solo (me) guides the Millennium Falcon (the Honda) at break neck speeds around the flying meteors ( pot holes, black ice, snow mounds and of course other drivers). Interestingly, Vladivostok locals, once leaving the confounds of the city, go through a miraculous transformation. They metamorphosis into Michael Schumacher! This insane trait coupled with the weather and the state of the roads makes any road trip around Vlad about as leisurely as World War Three.

Once we arrived at the Dacha we stepped out into a cool -20 degree snow covered countryside. "Quick" I told the guys "get inside!" Me being the seasoned veteran of Russian winters (lol), felt it my duty to singlehandedly haul everyone's luggage through the snow and into the dacha. Besides once inside it would be nice and warm. Well so I THOUGHT!

Inside the thermometer read -5 and the pechka had already been on for the last 2 hours! Visions of freezing to death flashed through our minds. We hadn't counted on this, what were we to do?

"Don't worry, old Russian tradition, we drink vodka" Sasha trembled. He was right, apart from its many other uses (eg, sterilization, antifreeze and a cure for almost all ailments), vodka also will ward off the hash Russian winter.

Drinking, dancing and continual stoking of the pechka pushed the thermometer up steadily throughout the night, so that at midnight when we were ready to watch the president's speech and let the fireworks off, the temp showed a manageable 15 degrees.

We weren't going to freeze after all, maybe pass out due to excessive eating and drinking, but defiantly not freeze.

Look out Tavrechanka the Aussie's are here!

Vodka - the cure for any ailment!

Even Santa was busting a few moves to keep warm. Hang on, is that really Santa?

Dan - cold, drunk or a bit of both?

They've Gone and I'm Back!

Today at 3pm Kate and Dan Left Vladivostok for Brisbane Australia. What a massive couple of weeks. Freezing temperatures, scoldingly hot Banyas, insanely dangerous driving, cheap shopping, mammoth amounts of food and of course vodka, vodka, vodka were just some of the experiences the two have taken away. The last two weeks have been jam packed and only now, after the guys have left, can I sit down and begin to retell the trials, tribulations and hilarities of New Year's and the rest of Kate and Dan's holiday.


However, before I begin to retell the last two weeks here are a couple of photos of the guys enjoying themselves in Vladivostok!

Dan and I frolicking in the snow.

Nas and Kate BBQing in -20 degrees.

Hey presto - I'm a fairy!

Santa sandwich?

If a picture speaks 1000 words, you can see I've got some writing a head of me. We had the time of our lives and now all that is left are the memories. Guys I'm missing you already, but don't worry I'll do my best to document the adventure.