From snow to sun...

Apologies for not posting anything here sooner, but it's been tricky to find the time to sit down and write things. Hopefully from now on I'll be able to update a little more regularly, but as they say, don't hold your breath.

So, to recap. I flew from Stansted to Tampere in Finland last Wednesday. When we landed, the pilot gleefully announced that the temperature was just one degree, which was a bit of a shock to me, having expected lovely warm sunshine and outdoor eating weather. The view getting off the plane was spectacular, dark blue sky with a thin strip of yellow, golden light along the horizon where the sun was just going down, at 9.30pm. To add to this, on the way back to Helsinki it started to snow and, lovely as it looked, I realised that my backpack contained nothing to ward off the cold. The only warm clothes I had were on me and my hat was sitting in a pile of dirty washing at home... The lesson to be learnt here I guess, is that when you look at a map and plan a journey, don't just look at the beach parts and assume it'll be nice and warm. Many thanks to Jutta for collecting me from Tampere and driving the two hours back to Helsinki with the heater on full blast to make sure I didn't get cold and that my eyeballs stayed completely dry.

The next few days were spent tootling about around Vantaa, Helsinki and Sipoo, visiting Jutta's family and sick grandmother in hospital and generally nosing at all the sights that Finland has to offer. If you haven't done it before, I thoroughly recommend a sauna - take a few cold beers with you as it gets very hot! - as well as a trip to Stockmann in the centre of Helsinki for coffee. The countryside is very pretty too, dotted with wooden houses in the traditional red colour of Scandinavia. Sunday saw the Helsinki marathon but thankfully I was out of the city long before the fit and healthy were legging it round the course. I took the train, number 35, Sibelius, to St Petersburg via Kuolla and Vyborg. My first encounter with the Russians was with the border / passport guard who said bluntly: 'Does your arese fit you?' To which I replied, 'Yes, but these trousers make it look bigger.' She nodded and then disappeared with my passport, re-appearing later with it duly stamped and with the 'fat arse' box checked on the visa...

First sight in Russia was the white expanse of a lake, completely frozen, snow lieing patchily on the ground, Ladas and other assorted cars rusting away in the woods many yards from the nearest road or path. Vyborg looks nice, sat on the river that leads to the Gulf of Finland and a busy looking place with a wide river and expansive bridge over. Since Sunday I have been guided around St Petersburg by a friend, Natalie, and her friend Alex, who has a car. It is the smallest car available in Russia - a two cylinder OKA. There's just enough room for two people in the front and I have to sit / lie sprawled over the back seat, but it's fun to weave your way through the traffic at breakneck speed, throwing caution to the wind and not wearing seatbelts. Russian driving has to be seen to be believed, especially at rush hour. Or slow hour as it should be called. Three or four lanes of traffic form at the lights, then three or four more form alongside or inbetween then. Then when the lights change, there's a huge cloud of smoke and the combined screaming of massed Lada engines rip forth. Woe betide any pedestrian still trying to cross. Of course, the advantage of the OKA, is that it's narrow enough to sneak up on the inside and get to pole position. Alex even argues with buses. He never ever wins, but I think it's the challenge he likes...

We have done just about every sight available: Hermitage, where we spent four hours running round taking in every kind of art imaginable, Peter and Paul fortress and its sights, St Isaacs Cathedral, taking the multitude of stairs to the top of the dome for splendid views of the rest of the city, Kazan Cathedral, a huge Gothic church with a fantastci ornate interior. Yesterday we drove out to the town of Pushkin to see the Summer Palace of Catherine the Great, complete with its world famous amber room. The one in the palace now is a reproduction, as the original was stolen by the Nazis during the war and, well, they lost it. On the subject of the war, everywhere is gearing up to celebrate the 60th anniversary of the end of the Great Patriotic War and it's quite sad to see the glee with which the Russians are taking to rub the noses of the Germans into their defeat. It seems like petty point scoring, rather than remembering the tragedy of the millions who died.

Final word about food. Russia is not a great place for vegetarians although I have discovered some great Puschka, mini doughnuts served with icing sugar sprinkled on top, and Blini, pancakes with cheese - or whatever filling you like. The blini place sold only tea, no coffee, but it came in beautiful big white pots and cups and saucers. No milk. Just sugar. So now I am having to wean myself of coffee, because it's hard to get, and drink tea black with sugar. Apart from that, I'm not starving, or going thirsty.

Tomorrow I will move south to Novgorod and spend the Russian Easter there. They celebrate this on 30 April and it will be interesting to have two Easters in one year and see how other people celebrate theirs. This is assuming I can get a bus there, as getting a ticket is not as easy as it seems and can take up most of the day queuing and pulling out your hair in frustration. I am very grateful for the help of Natalie and Alex for translation help and the use of the car. Spasibo!

I should be packing, but...

I thought I should explain why this blog has the title it does, as I am sure people will wonder. A couple of years ago, when I was still working as a driver, I used to listen to the Radio 4 travel programme "Excess Baggage". One week, the presenter, Arthur Smith, went somewhere - I forget where now - where Russian was widely spoken. He said that the Russian word for "Hello" - zdravstvuitye - was easy to pronounce as long as you affected an Irish accent and asked "Does your arse fit you?" Several yeasr after this I was on a bus, trying to get into Belarus when a border guard boarded, his wide-brimmed peak cap glinted officially in the early morning light. He had a quick look along the bus and then, to my delight, I distinctly heard him say to the people on the front row that very sentence.

This is all well and good, but it isn't getting the bag packed. Tomorrow morning at 6.30am I am supposed to be on a bus from Liverpool to London to catch the flight to Tampere in Finland. I guess I will update this as I go along at sporadic intervals, depending on the availability of internet emporia in Russia and Ukraine...

Last day at work for a while.

This is all new to me but I thought, what the hell. Might as well try something different. I have spent the day tidying my desk and finishing my e-mail and now it's just about time to leave work. I have a few people to say bye to, but most of that was done last week at the Fly in the Loaf. I thought I'd be more sad about going, but I guess I'm more excited about everything.