A short introduction to where I live:

We would write this as ulitsa Akademika Komarova. It’s my building number.







Here’s our entryway. It’s pretty beat-up, but keep your mind open. Places here are not up to “American standards,” but I  really like my flat and my flatmate.






Grumpy. Lives in stairwell. Does not appreciate humans. Fat.





My kick-ass outer door. Our inner door is equally impenetrable.  I dare you to kick it in. Go on, do it.



So, the inside and other stuff to come later. Today I explored the park a few blocks (?) south of our flat. It’s beautiful and chock-full of the same plants as Minnesota. Heh. The Spaniard (roomie) and I are going to run there tomorrow morning.


A routine is slowly being established, which I’m finding I need greatly.

I am studying Russian and  working on lessons today. I can now say with complete confidence, “I speak English. I do not speak Russian. Do you speak English? I am a tourist/English teacher/American. Where? Hello. Hi. ‘bye. Coffee. Three bananas.” Believe me, I’m working on it. It’s really frustrating for me to not be able to yap my head off in the native language!



About Sally

It's all about me. ALL OF IT. ABOUT ME.
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