So, after a long dark November, in which even the Russians began to wonder when the snow would arrive, it's finally here! And, as if to make up for coming late, it's decided to come in abundance. For the first week, it snowed without stopping, not even for an hour, and although it's now slowed off slightly, we're still yet to have a snow-free day. Unfortunately, the Russians are adept at dealing with snow, and so we've had no cancelled lessons, no snow deep enough to wade through, and there are men shovelling the snow off the streets while it's still falling (see http://www.thebubble.org.uk/columns/life-in-the-big-ger-city-snow for more on how the Russians refuse to let snow faze them!). But, with temperatures of -15 C and falling, the river completely frozen over except for a small path carved out of the middle, and reports of the first death by falling icicle, I think I'm still being treated to a true Russian winter.
It's unfortunate that this weather came just as I'd decided to treat myself to a new pair of boots, which are far too lovely to wear in the snow - while it may not be at wading level, a wonderful mound of slush develops at the point where you step off the pavement to cross the road, perfect for ensuring wet tootsies if your footwear is unsuitable and destroying lovely new boots. But anyway, I was very pleased to get these boots, as I've been looking for a while. Russian women are extremely well-shod (well-clothed in general in fact, enough so to make me feel like a slob every time I look at them!) but seem not to cater to any shoe size much above a European 40 - as I'm a 41 going on 42, this has caused a slight problem for me. After scouring the out-of-town (or at least out-of-city-centre) shopping mall 'Mega', which is not quite as huge as the name might suggest (I'm not sure it's even as big as the Oracle in Reading, although it does contain an Ikea and a French supermarket!), and finding nothing, and trying on what felt like every pair of size 41 boots in every shoe shop in St. Petersburg, I finally came up trumps. They are knee-high, fur-lined, and with just a high enough heel to satisfy my feet (seriously, they demand heels, it's a problem!) while still being low enough to make walking possible. And they even got the Vera seal of approval, although she did feel the need to point out the two other pairs of boots in the hallway of my Russian home - if she could see the number of pairs that I left behind in England, she'd probably have fainted.
Well, that would be the snow and the shopping taken care of, which just leaves the sushi! Recently, it's become a Friday tradition for most of our Russian class to go for sushi in the shopping mall in Sennaya Ploschad. I think we've become a bit of a standing joke with the staff there, as the waitress was definitely hiding a smile behind her hand when we turned up today and started messing with the seating plan - if you only provide tables of four and five people come in, what else do you expect? I'm slightly amazed by the Russian love of sushi (in the food court where our favourite haunt is situated there are two sushi restaurants, and several more surrounding Sennaya Ploschad), mostly because it's so different to most Russian food - low on carbs, low on grease, and high on vegetable products. However, it does have the advantage of being mostly raw fish dishes. Russians do love raw (or at the very least cold) fish....
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