My Neighborhood: Primorskaya

The founding of Saint-Petersburg was the work of Peter the Great, who modeled its canals on those of Venice. Primorskaya, by contrast, was likely the work of Gorbachev. Located in the West of Vasilievskaya Island, the Primorskaya area is a leftover from the Soviet era, just like the lady above, who stands on top of a building on Nevsky Prospekt. Primorskaya is flanked by the gulf of Finland in the West, and massive concrete apartment blocks in the East. In fact, all over the city kommunalka, communal apartments, are still extremely common; my cramped kitchen below might give you an idea. This is not luxury living by any means: cockroaches in the kitchen and smoking in the stairwells are the norm, and our laminate flooring is peeling and dirty. But the gulf is nearby, and if you strain you can see it from the room I share with two others. Baltika beer tents line the sand, and when I run early in the morning, I sometimes hear bottles breaking and Russian slurring as remnants from a night of revelry. Since it's legal to walk around with open alcohol, it's pretty common to see men crack open beer cans at 10:30 on a Monday morning.

The studencheski gorod, literally "student city", is made up of three giant apartment buildings, all housing at least five hundred young people of both Russian and foreign origin. No one panders to your ignorance here, so as foreigners you're treated in exactly the same way as any Russian student would be. By that, I mean that they expect you to know everything by the time you've arrived. Had I not had a lovely American roommate, I would not have known the answers to such questions as: where do I register for classes? Where do I pay for classes? Where is this school I'm supposed to be going to and how do I get there? The answer to the last question is not insignificant, as the University is over six kilometres away. It's not a particularly scenic route, or maybe I'd walk it. Besides, the bus takes you right there, and it's cheap and efficient.

Waiting for the bus also gives me a chance to admire the Russian women and their amazing shoes at 8:30 in the morning, even with the rain we've been having. It may seem impractical, but I've never seen any of them complain that their feet hurt, or slip, or look anything less than completely put-together. It's actually pretty awesome, and I look forward to their future warm-weather sartorial choices.