Giddy giant

cntd. from SPB 2: That evening we gathered in the flat to enjoy an evening of champagne and football (Zenit St Petersburg vs Bayern Munich). While Olga was determined not to let the party descend into a football evening, a few die-hard Zenith fans had other ideas and I joined their throng as they smashed their way to a completely unexpected 4-1 victory (hence fingers in this photo days later). Merry didn't quite define it, and from this moment on the party was only going one way. The night bounced into day on a carriage of fine acoustic Russian sing-a-longs, numerous games of twister, ballroom dancing (I need practice)... and more champagne.

The following day I again changed hosts and met Ivan, an astute guy living a tram-ride away from Komandansky Prospekt Metro station. Over the next few days he introduced me to the delights of Russian junk food, including fried pilmeni, shavierma and pushka. We watched films at the English (Ah English - how I miss your sweet, understandable sound) with Russian subs cinema, enjoyed off-the-wall art galleries (photos of naked oriental women covered in ketchup) and the incredible SPB flea market - Si you would love this, and a must for all who visit.

Based in the outskirts this huge bargain metropolis of dusty stalls manned by equally dusty babushkas and elderly gents sold a variety of Soviet tat which I could have spent a fortune on given the time, rucksack space and rubles. I contented myself with a few badges and some old soviet-starred military shoulder straps to decorate my rucksack. And yes, Chruz even in this desert of rusty treasure I managed to find the long arm of Linux (got shouted at for taking this photo by miserable store owner).