St Petersburg 1

My train from Petrozavodsk jolted into Ladogskaya train station, St Petersburg at 7:07am on 25th April. My phone alarm had been vibrating and bleeping on and off for half an hour before it woke me and I looked around to see everyone else in the compartment up and packed. Possibly this was due to my alarm. But such is the beauty of the language barrier (or concrete wall with blast-proof iron panelling in this case) I couldn't ask or apologise and to be honest had more pressing matters to mind.

Several texts from my first St Petersburg host, Inna, directed me to catch line 4 to Ligovsky before changing to line 1 to Avtovo. "Ostorozhno, dveri zakrivayutsa" the tannoyed voice announced as the doors hissed shut behind me and the Metro rolled into action. I now enjoy silently lipsinking to this phrase every time I depart a station, usually to the amusement/withered look of my companions.

The stations here are so deep that many passengers are buried in books during the long elevator ride into to depths of underground St Petersburg. The metro itself is usually a hot, crowded affair which involves clinging to the nearest greasy pole for support as the varied jolt-starts and hard-brakes do their best to throw you off balance and into your neighbour, requiring a swift "Izvinitye".

Finding my way to Avtovo I again used my newly bought Russian B-line (2 roubles a text - bargain) sim to summon Inna and guide me to her flat 5 minutes walk from the station. Inna and flat mate Nastia were great hosts and wouldn't allow me to cook a thing. Making me fresh coffee and introducing me to the best cat ever, Schnapps (stalked and attacked my foot without warning before scurrying away, repeat to fade), the girls left me with keys and to my own divices. Sleep beckoned but St P beckoned louder. I hastily stuffed my waypoint with the day's requirements and set foot back on the Metro to central St P.

It was hot, and my hazy mind decided once more upon my favourite idea for every new city: No map, no plan, get lost. I wandered round gardens, statues, ornate buildings, along canals and found myself on the bustling metropolis of Nevsky Prospekt, the city's jugular and maybe that day, my nemesis. I found my lack of basic Russian debilitating and purchased the Lonely Planet's excellent phrasebook for a slightly inflated 350 rubles before hopping back onto the metro.

On the second day I ate a fried rice and vegetable breakfast before being toured round the city by Inna and Nastia. The plan was to catch the bus to the southwest corner of the city centre and walk from there. On the bus I sat next to a teenager and distinguished strains of Slipknot blasting from his earphones as I strained to see anything through the sticky plastic advertisments that rise above window level on the buses here.

We walked though town towards the Mariinsky Theatre where a bolcony seat for Tuesday's Madame Butterfly was purchased from the predictably miserable ogre behind the tiny plastic screen of the ticket booth. Still, 1000 rubles is a bargain.