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!

Paka!

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About Sally

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