The sun sets on St. Petersburg...

After living, working and just about surviving in Peter for the better part of three months this summer, there was one final chance for me to see the city from a fresh perspective. Having come to the end of my time in the archives, feeling both satisfied and somewhat saturated in equal measure, I was joined by a couple of friends in the midst of a grand tour of Europe.

This was my opportunity to play tour-guide, translator and even tourist. It's the first time I've had people from the 'outside world' over to Russia and it forced me to sit back and think about what the city has to offer in terms of culture, history and landmarks (not to mention food, drink and evening entertainment!).

I think we struck the right balance. With only a couple of days available - thankfully gifted with great weather throughout - I offered them views of the centre, tastes of Russia and even an experience of my last few months at home in Primorskaya. To give me an outlet for exercise I've spent a fair few hours on the basketball court (trying to get to grips with necessary vocabulary). There is a universal language where sport is concerned however and the quality and enjoyment of play involved mostly spoke for itself.

Credit for the view above has to go to my buddy and his fortuitous employment of Google to find a suitable setting for our penultimate evening. A rooftop terrace view of St Isaac's Cathedral as the sun came down, good wine and good company to boot. Although this end to the trip has stretched my budget - and my last reserves of energy - I couldn't have asked for a better finish to the final stage of my research it represents.

My ultimate aim when I began this blog was to prepare myself for this, my doctoral thesis. I wanted to feel like I could operate in the archives and produce original and insightful research on a fascinating country. I also hoped to be able to communicate and express myself in a new and challenging language. Although there is still work to do where both these aims are concerned, my confidence continues to grow and my passion for history persists.

Politics without a manifesto...

I've tended to avoid politics in this blog. If nothing else, until my language skills are suitably developed I don't feel inclined to try and speak on the subject in Russian when I can't articulate what I want to say with any real clarity and conviction.

That said, politics are increasingly seeping into everyday life and my regular interactions with the country. Its my reason for returning so soon after my previous trip (to use time available on a visa I fear might prove harder to renew in the future) and a simple visit to the supermarket is a reminder of the existence of sanctions, embargoes and the tit-for-tat politics playing out between Russia and the West.

Politics was also at the centre of much of the contemporary art on display at the current 'Manifesta 10' festival running at sites around the city. I took a trip today to one of the spaces neighbouring the more established cultural home of art in the centre, the Hermitage, finding an impressive range of media and motives behind the works.

There is nothing to be gained from my photographing the works and repeating them here. Photography was nominally forbidden anyway - as usual that stopped few from snapping away regardless. I instead took it as a challenge. Below are a selection of images of the space around me. Consider it a tacit reminder of an Englishman's preference for rule following and a visual symbol of my tendency to overlook the politics on display and seek the story behind the scenes. How wonderfully pretentious!

Hipsters of the world, UNITE!

Welcome to the revolution re-imagined for the 21st-century. In what I'm sure is a reaction against inflated coffee prices and the global domination of Seattle's finest, I'm currently sat in one of St Petersburg's "anti-cafés" (the article linked here profiles a similar establishment over in London and provides a little more background...which I've yet to read since I'm too busy enjoying my free coffee and cakes).

It's a real hipster's dream inside, a fading mish-mash of furniture, old typewriters and Arcade Fire on the stereo. There are a couple of boutique shops next door and a bohemian looking hairdresser working in the corner. The concept is simple - you pay by the minute, not by the coffee. Everything else is then 'free', including tea on tap, a proper espresso machine and access to a selection of cakes and savoury snacks.

I don't want to give the impression I'm above all this for one second. I love it, it's a great idea. I just hope I don't get too comfortable and forget the time...

Side-note: Speaking of the 21st-century, this post is an experiment in voice recognition and just how revolutionary this little gadget is in my hand. It seems to be a success, a few corrections here and there, but I may never have to type again...So much for those hipsters and their old typewriters!

[Update] While I remember, the bill came to 140 roubles (less than £3.00) for an hour and twenty minutes. Seriously, you can struggle to get a coffee in the centre of the city for less than that. Consider me a convert.

You can find the cafe, Цифербург on Nevsky Prospect, at the top floor of 'Пассаж' (not the posh bit, the entrance closest to the Fontanka. Link to the Russian website attached, with the cafe marked on Google Maps.

The Terminology of Terror...

I have had a great deal of success this week working within the National Library's reading room for newspapers. It has given me access to both central Party newspapers from the Soviet Union and the key regional newspaper for Leningrad, Leningradskaya Pravda.

Printed in Pravda, 3 December 1939, p.5

I've spoken a little about my research over the course of this blog, but my preoccupation has always been about the development of my language skills. This week I have enjoyed the interaction of both, coming together to help take another important step towards completing my doctoral studies.

I wanted to share a little about what I've been working on in recent months (and years!) and hopefully give an impression of how important the language skills are to my work, even as we move ever closer to instant and accessible translation by the likes of Google and other digital services.

My research - as a reminder - centres on the impact of the Soviet-Finnish War of 1939-40 on the international communist community. That means not only citizens within the borders of the USSR, but the global collective of communists abroad, many operating under the umbrella of the Communist International (Comintern) and its numerous satellite parties. Official news of the war and the party line on developments related to the conflict were disseminated through various sources. One of the most important was the press.

Over the last week I've been studying newspapers to unravel the strategies adopted by the Kremlin to deal with a war that went very badly for the Red Army. For a regime used to a strict control over its press and propaganda, the need for positive spin was apparent. My work looks at the strengths and weaknesses of the party machinery to deal with the crisis and what window it offers into the mechanics of the Stalinist regime.

The aspect of my research I'm focused on currently is the language and terminology prescribed to its supporters when talking of Soviet-Finnish relations and events across the border (and I should stress, from the Soviet perspective, this was never a "war", this being one term consistently avoided in the press and public speeches). A vocabulary developed, influenced by the history and ideology of the Party, that allowed writers in newspapers, politicians at the lectern and party activists on the factory floor, to describe events according to the official Party Line.

Out of this research I began to notice a key trend. The kind of violent, coercive and arbitrary force historians today associate with the Stalinist regime in the treatment of its own citizens, was being used to conjure up an image of an equally tyrannical regime in Finland.

The language of terror, of repression, of mass arrests and the victimisation of peoples, was regularly appearing in print, not to acknowledge the extremes of Soviet power, but to justify the Red Army's invasion and Moscow's intervention in Finnish affairs.

As I explored further, I realised this was a tactic not limited to Finland. The press regularly adopted this terminology of terror to point the finger at rival states and powers. Furthermore, this was not a strategy limited to the regional level but is visible in central party newspapers that too shared and depended on a key institution for the collection, dissemination and control of news at home and abroad, the Telegraph Agency of the Soviet Union (TASS).

It was through TASS bulletins - short, back-page news items culled from the international press - with evocative headlines and only cursory detail of events, that the Party made it quite explicit that life outside the Soviet Union was far worse than within. Often the sources quoted were simply the newspapers of communist parties abroad - such as The Daily Worker in London, an organ of the Communist Party of Great Britain - though no indication of this convenient connection was made public (indeed I know from my research in Moscow that the journalistic practices of the Telegraph Agency would be enough to make even the former editors of the News of the World blush). The priority was always the party line.    

"Terror by Mannerheim's Gangs"(1)

"Outburst of white terror in Mannerheim's Finland"(2)

"Mass Arrests in India"(3)

"Mass Arrests in Helsinki"(4)

"Repressions in France"(5)

"Fascist terror in Spain"(6)

These examples above, like the opening image, indicate that the regime was supremely comfortable employing this tactic despite its own record of violence. Indeed, scholars today still largely categorise the years of 1937-38 as witnessing Stalin's 'Great Terror', when whole swathes of society suffered arrest, exile, years of forced labour and even execution at the hands of the state. Where the regime has explicitly used the term 'terror' to challenge and attack its opponents at home and abroad, this has either been overlooked or lost in translation, with the more current and less evocative 'terrorism' often used in English texts.

What I hope my research will eventually offer is pause for thought, that it will challenge the fast and loose adoption of the term 'terror' to describe a state and ruler that felt confident in 'casting the first stone' in an attempt to justify their own actions. They clearly didn't see a danger in people drawing unhealthy comparisons between terror abroad in 1939 and recent waves of violence that swept through the Soviet Union. One of the reasons for this, I will argue in my thesis, was the strict control and censorship of its own extra-legal activity alongside the long term development and dissemination of a terminology of terror to deflect negative publicity onto its rivals.

I hope to publish an article on this topic prior to completion of my final doctoral thesis. As with my article on the developing role of TASS in the Soviet-Finnish War, I will upload a link on the blog when, and if, it emerges for anyone interested in a more in depth study of these ideas and sources.

*****
Footnotes

Although references below are to single newspapers, these TASS bulletins were generally circulated to all central and regional newspapers, filling print space with sanctioned and carefully censored material.

1. Leningradskaya Pravda, 22 December 1939, p.4
2. Pravda, 16 December 1939, p.5
3. Pravda, 16 December 1939, p.5
4. Leningradskaya Pravda, 11 December 1939, p.4
5. Leningradskaya Pravda, 11 December 1939, p.4
6. Leningradskaya Pravda, 21 August 1939, p.4

Опера - всем!

I take it as an indication of how far my Russian has come, that while taking the long escalator ride to the metro platform this morning, my ears pricked up unexpectedly to the sound of an advertisement on the tannoy system. For a long time I've just considered the sounds of the metro indecipherable background noise. I remember one of my first victories was realising I could understand the format of the station announcements from the train car. This felt like another important step.

The chatter was about a summer festival of opera in the city. Russia was my first introduction to the classical arts - opera and ballet - and the thought of a free concert in the city appealed after a long two weeks of Soviet press and propaganda. I needed some culture, some escapism. I'd caught enough of the advert to know what I was looking for online and after a few hours in the library, I made my way a restaurant to refuel and track down the essentials.

A series of weekend concerts are being held as part of 'Опера - всем' [Opera for all] around the city. Tonight's performance of 'The Golden Cockerel' was being staged in the grounds of the Peter and Paul Fortress. It was a test of my Russian to track down the official website and navigate my way to the relevant information. I'd worked for this, I felt like I'd earned an experience.

That I got. I turned up with about half an hour to spare. There were crowds of people milling about, some had arrived early enough for seating, the majority had picked a spot on the grass with a view of the stage and big screen display. I found myself a patch too and lounged out on the grass. As the performance hit its stride, the sun burst through and the whole setting offered a perfect way to unwind. I was there for the music, my brain drifted off and made little effort to translate, but it was enough to enjoy the moment. I could certainly get used to summers in St Petersburg.

A little place in the country...

The weekend just past I finally made an excursion out to Peterhof, site of one of the grand palatial homes of the Romanov dynasty. Built by Peter the Great and developed and expanded by his successors, it was occupied by Nazi forces during the Siege of Leningrad and only restored to its former glory at the turn of the millennium.

I took advantage of an organised trip with the school, so the headache of working out the best way to travel down was already sorted. We had the option of a boat ride across the Gulf of Finland - about 600 roubles - or a quick trip by metro and bus - the bus was 60 roubles - since most of us were on a student budget we went for the cheaper option.

The weather is still glorious, almost overbearingly hot in the city centre during the day, so a chance to escape to the country was much appreciated. We took the red line to 'Avtovo' and then hopped on one of the glorified mini-buses that appeared every 5-10 minutes at a stop just outside the station. It was my first experience on these private buses. Get on, don't expect to find a seatbelt and I'd recommend bringing the correct change if you're uncomfortable watching the driver with one hand on the steering wheel, the other counting your change while alternating with his mobile and gesturing wildly at the usual progress of Petersburg traffic. An experience.

The palace complex required a ticket to enter (250 roubles for students; 500 for adults) and contained a multitude of museums and buildings you could then pay further for access. It was enough for us to spend a few hours walking the gardens and taking in the sight of the many fountains. It really was a beautiful, well manicured space. Overcrowded, yes, but there were enough beauty spots to house all of us and if you avoided the scrum around the major attractions it was easy enough to feel like you were getting a break from the heat and noise of the city. A shame the grassed areas were largely off limits, so no real opportunity for a picnic, but there were plenty of food kiosks along the way and benches to rest weary legs.

Attached are a few photos from around the complex. If you can avoid the posing natives, there are a few sights worth snapping, though the internet is probably awash with better examples than my efforts.

V.I.P. treatment...

Yesterday was a bit of a turn around. After the frustration of finding my main archive inaccessible for another week, I managed to regroup and plan to still be productive. I was initially facing a slight delay before I could hit the ground running, requiring my migration document to register at the National Library. This was due after two o'clock, so I decided to kill some time by following up another archive in the city I'd tracked down before my arrival.

The Central Museum of Communications (named in honour of Alexander Stepanovich Popov, the famous Russian physicist) is just down the road from Winter Palace. Attached is a research library and archive that I thought was worth investigating since part of my work involves studying the role of the Telegraph Agency of the Soviet Union in the press and propaganda of the 1930s and early 1940s (see here for my article on the subject). It turned out to be a dead end, but I was no worse off for trying and got a little practice in trying to explain my research to the librarians there. Opting not to explore the museum itself - I should point out that from the outside of the building you'd be forgiven for walking past without giving it a second look - I headed back to the centre of town, intent on picking up a book I'd spotted earlier in 'Dom Knigi', then finding a cafe to do some reading.

However, on the way I wandered past the Musuem of Printing. I vaguely remembered spotting it before. Advertised was an exhibition on printing in the city, before and after Lenin. It sparked my interest so I headed in. I found a quaint looking bookshop, old leather bound editions and prints on the wall. The entrance to the museum proper was just behind, with the standard issue babushkas on hand to distribute a ticket. They seemed charmed by my Russian and accepted I was eligible for the student price (£1.50 and worth every penny by the end of my visit). I declined the offer of an individual excursion, but much to my amazement found I was passed along from room to room, given an introduction to each space by one of the on staff 'curators' (old ladies with a keen interest in offering up their wisdom seem to be standard issue in the city's museums. A wonderful resource if you're willing to ask questions and show an interest).

The museum was a bit of a maze of rooms with small exhibition spaces and recreations of the printing, typography and daily life of these buildings - largely through recreations using of-the-period furniture - from the hundred years or so leading up to the revolution. You could probably fly through in half an hour, but taking a moment to listen to these ladies offer up a little bit of history was a great way to put my Russian to practice and interact. I think they were equally pleased for the chance to speak, I saw only one other visitor as I moved from room to room. I really felt like I was given special treatment, being shown hundred year old copies of Pravda straight from the displays and offered the chance to sneak behind the 'velvet rope' for a close up view (and lesson) in the mechanics of printing.

It certainly boosted my confidence in the language and set me up nicely for my first visit to the National Library. The registration proved simple, I was issued with a card bearing my details and a passport sized photo that is better than I usually produce. I even had time to order my first editions of Leningradskaya Pravda and size up the task ahead of me. I've got a lot of reading to do...

Чудо техники...

I have finally taken a big step into the twenty-first century. Having resisted embracing smartphone technology since the iPhone first appeared on the market, I made a compromise and upgraded my humble iPod Classic for a new Touch model.

Now this isn't intended to be a running endorsement of all things Apple, but credit where its due, I've been blown away by where the technology is at. I wanted this to be a device to help in my research, hoping to scan documents and articles, have easy access to translation software and navigate around the city whenever an available cafe with free WiFi was in easy reach.

What I didn't expect was the ability to scan Russian texts, to be sent through free online OCR software for (almost) perfect translation, free WiFi across the city centre (take note London!) and Google Translate to provide speech recognition in Russian for immediate translation.

Suddenly I can watch TV and get on the spot translations of words overheard but not understood (the title of this post comes from a TV program I tried this very thing on - 'The Miracle of Technology'. Seemed rather apt). I've Skyped on the go to check in with friends back home while making dinner (timer set in the background to make sure my pasta still comes out al dente). My journey on the metro can include catching up on downloaded PDFs with the added ability to immediately follow up an archival reference as I emerge on Nevsky Prospect and connect to the free WiFi.

What really sealed the deal however was when I discovered a slight flaw in my research plans for this trip. Unfortunately I failed to anticipate the main archive I was intending to work - returning after my earlier explorations in December - had opted to take its summer closure period in June and early July! This was a new one for me. I simply did not anticipate any archive closing before August or September. I should have emailed, I should called, I should have remembered this is Russia, but I didn't.

Here's where my new gadget saved the day.

Feeling low and dejected I wandered over to the city centre to salvage my morning by registering my arrival with the authorities and visiting some of the sights. The weather was warm, humid but very wet. It matched my rather sullen and overcast mood at this point. Things didn't exactly improve when I turned up outside the Hermitage and realised that was closed on Mondays (its been a while!). Never fear, I had free internet and in a flash of inspiration decided to turn things around by co-ordinating my movements for the next week. I needed a target. I knew I needed access to newspapers and if I couldn't get them from the archive, how about the state library? Bingo. Website found, location tracked on Google Maps, I was on my way.

Things suddenly brightened up. Weather included. In the space of about an hour I'd tracked down the reading room for newspapers, spoken to nice lady who directed me to the main building for registration - requiring the immigration document I would collect tomorrow - and pointed out the summer opening times of the rest of the library (I photographed them for future reference).

Mission accomplished. I spent the rest of the day tracking down a local sporting goods store to buy a basketball - I found a freshly painted local court via the satellite view on Google Maps yesterday - and later took a conference call on Skype from Bart, the course co-ordinator, to switch on the electric boiler (aided by an online instruction video I could still play with my head behind the fridge).

How's that for progress?

A city that never sleeps?

I've returned to Petersburg just days after the summer solstice. It's quite a contrast to December. The sky is still blue at 11:30pm (local time) and the only thing stopping me from being kept awake by the light evening is the sleep deprivation a 2:00am (GMT) start provides.

You've seen this view from my apartment window countless times. I'll see if I can update it with something a little more spectacular during my trip (as long as I don't run the risk of missing the last metro home!).

[Edit] As promised, another view of the city with the late evening sunshine. This was taken after a performance of opera in the grounds of the Peter and Paul Fortress.

Crossing 'Trinity Bridge' after 9:00pm, you can see the quality of light this late in the day. Its now about two weeks after my original post and its still light at 11:00pm.

Суд времени...

The great thing about individual one-to-one lessons is being able to tailor the classes to the needs of my research and focus of my work. Its been a stimulating couple of weeks, though the challenge of dates and academic language as a couple of the key topics covered has required some serious mental effort on my part. It was nice to end on something even closer to home, Katya having pulled out a political-history discussion program from YouTube that featured a debate over the events and historiography of the Soviet-Finnish War.

Time allowed for only a short dip into the full duration of the program, so I've posted it here for future reference and the hope it will be a useful resource down the line for hearing - and not just reading in the archives! - aspects of the war from the perspective of Russians today.

С Новым Годом!

Today was a good day. I came to my final visit to the archive and spent the day productively, transcribing from the documents collected yesterday and beginning to form some of my ideas about the material I'd found so far. There is still an element of frustration that I can't be here long enough to continue my work, but it means I'm motivated to be back as soon as possible. Anyway, I left on a positive note and even took the time to thank the archivist (who has been such a great help and very patient with my imperfect language skills) with a box of biscuits and a 'Happy New Year' ( С Новым Годом!).

In order to facilitate my day in the archives today, Katya kindly agreed to move my class to Saturday morning. I'll have just enough time before my pick up for the airport. Since that leaves me with little time tomorrow outside class (and homework to finish) I headed home via the supermarket to stock up on a few gifts for Christmas.

I've definitely got into the Christmas 'spirit' - bad pun intended - as you can see (though a couple of the purchases need to stay a surprise so aren't pictured here!). What made the occasion extra sweet was the fact that on being asked if I was old enough to buy alcohol (slightly tongue in cheek I think) I didn't miss a step, understood and responded with my passport. It really is these little victories that help me to feel like my language skills are improving.

It comes back to this idea of being able to survive in day-to-day scenarios and that's certainly something I've been more focused on with this trip. I've tried to be less of a tourist (I've seen none of the usual sights and haven't stepped into a museum or gallery!) and get into a routine that will serve me well whenever I'm in the city and time is against me for my research.

Seeing the fruits of my labour...

After a tough introduction to academic language and terminology in class this week, I felt the need to test my day-to-day language skills out in the real world. I confessed to Katya that my preoccupation with academia and archival research has stunted my ability to speak and understand when out and about. She was sympathetic but confident I wasn't too far off the mark.

I took her confidence out on a mission to gather together some things for dinner and a couple of cards (and stamps) to wish loved ones 'С Новым годом' (or a Gledelig Juhl and Merry Christmas for the benefit of those who expect presents on the 24th and 25th of December). 

The time spent on numbers this trip (even in the context of dates and time) has really helped my navigating shops. Weights and measures are essential at the market where I can buy quantities more suited to cooking for one during such a short stay. Being able to anticipate costs and deal with roubles in the hundreds - particularly given the exchange rate of about 50 roubles to the pound - offers the opportunity to hand over something closer to the exact change at the counter and avoid the risk of returning home with pockets full of coins.   

I still get lost at times and I'd love when that happens to be able learn from what I've not understand immediately, rather than simply draw a blank and have to muddle along regardless. Patience is a virtue, but I think I've already mentioned that service doesn't always come with a smile in Russia. This isn't a place where 'the customer is always right' is culturally embedded. The Soviet legacy lives on. I do get a positive response a lot of the time I try, but I guess its frustrating for both sides when something just isn't understood.

The long and short of it is that the better my language skills get, the better I eat. Or at least the more control I have over the variety and quantity of food I can purchase. It helps when I'm sticking to a limited budget and want to diversify a little without incurring waste or extra expense. Anyway, dinner is served...

A path to victory...

One of the things I have Russia to thank for is my return to playing competitive basketball at university. When last in Moscow three years ago, I was lucky enough to be gifted with unseasonably good weather through September and October. This allowed myself and a group of fellow foreign historians working in the archives (mostly from Canada and the US) to spend some of our free time playing basketball on an outdoor basket just down the road from one of the archives (GARF).

We also managed to find the opportunity to watch a couple of live games played at CSKA's home court. It was a return to the sport after an absence of quite a few years and if there's one thing I'm missing while in Petersburg, its being able to practice on any court - indoor or out!

Having a free day from lessons on Sunday I decided to track down a game for local team Spartak. I found their game schedule online through the official website - helpfully translated into English - though stopped short of buying a ticket at this point. From my experience of Moscow I assumed I could manage to pick-up tickets on the door fairly easily, though did check the price and seating plan on the website.

It meant a trip on the metro up to Krestovskiy Ostrov on the purple line (M5). I can't actually remember the last time I travelled on this section of the metro and its bit of a pain connecting from the green line (M3) that runs from Primorskaya. I left plenty of time though and it seemed pretty clear where I was going from Google maps once I got there.

Rather than a road from the metro to the arena - or 'basketball complex' and its designated on the maps - it's a long pedestrianised avenue through 'Maritime Victory Park' (checking with a local taxi driver, the directions of "go straight, straight, and straight" were simple enough even for me to decipher!). The whole length of it seems to be under construction of some sort. I also discovered a pretty substantial looking theme park, evidently closed for the season, as I began the trek to the game.

The theme of 'closed for repairs' seemed to continue when I got to the end of the path. Fronted by a statue of our old friend Kirov, was the huge stadium sharing his name, surrounded by cranes and building works. However, just to the left was a pretty new and swish looking 'Cyber Arena', the home of Spartak basketball.

The facilities inside were similarly impressive and the game offered a great show. A shaky start from the home team before a tightening of the defense and improved ball movement saw them open a ten point lead in the second half. This wavered a little as the game reached its closing stages, but was eventually tied up after a well timed three pointer from one of their American squad members who was clearly confident shooting from the NBA regulation distance.

It wasn't exactly a packed out arena - in fact I was tempted to think it a good idea I'd bought a 400 rather than 200 rouble ticket as the outer seats looked pretty empty - but the atmosphere was good,  the chants lively and the cheerleaders easy on the eye. Paying 100 roubles for a bar of chocolate (a Twix!) at half time was a bit of a shock to the system, but it was generally value for money (I would actually consider buying the cheaper ticket next time as people seemed pretty flexible with moving to seats closer to the action once the game began).

Я играю по-русски...

I like this. This gets me motivated to train hard in the cold, ice and snow, surrounded by crumbling buildings and shoddy infrastructure. Working with whatever is available. No I don't have a sponsorship deal with Nike. No I don't currently plan on swimming in the frozen waters of the Neva, but yes, I do know how to play Russian!

Changeable weather...

I can't keep up with the changes of weather and temperature at the minute. Yesterday the snow began to thaw after a return to positive figures and this morning any sign of the earlier wintery weather had disappeared!

I came expecting snow, lots and lots of snow. Its almost the middle of December. I suppose I should enjoy it while it lasts, but I can't help feel this is the quiet before the storm...

*****

Update: Mystery solved. Apparently the snow has moved to...CAIRO!

I understand this is the first time snow has been seen in the Egyptian capital for 112 years. I'd love to know when the last time they had snow and we didn't! Watch this space for breaking news of hell freezing over.

The innocence of youth...

There was a fresh layer of snow across the city today that slowed my return to the archives. It was disheartening to see the night sky persist at 10am and realise that when I emerged at 4pm it would be fast approaching once again. I was focused on my goals as I marched along, though took care to dodge sludge and dirt that still bubbles to the surface as temperatures persist around the threshold of freezing.

The archives were kind to me today. We can have good days and bad days. Today was a good day. I arrived to find my name at the front door - registration evidently successful - with a pile of files (дели) rich with documents (prepared from my order sheet on Monday) immediately brought to my desk.

My first question mark was over the state of the declassification process. I had tested the water by ordering files that were both explicitly declassified in the catelogues (описи) and ambigiuous in their status. This was further complicated by a number that were indicated to me by the archivists that had been successfully requested by another research a year ago. Since all those files I ordered arrived, I'm no clearer to knowing what is or isn't available. Such is the game we play!

More questions followed. Probably more than answers. I was dealing with materials related to the military department in Leningrad during the Soviet-Finnish War. Issues of recruitment, education and mobilisation mixed up with popular responses to the war and the management of its public presentation.

My thoughts are still forming and will continue to over the course of these two weeks. It already appears that I'll need more time to properly interrogate this archive's holdings. A healthy position to be in and I'm already excited at the prospect of returning to Petersburg in the New Year.

For now I'd like to share one document that emerged from a file of collected letters sent to Red Army forces from the public. It was opened with a glowing report on the popular mood by a Party official that insisted on both the abundance and uniformity of public support for the troops. The temptation is to see this as a careful engineered propaganda initiative. However, I feel the documents require a closer reading than this.

In fact, what helped steer my assumptions away from this simplistic view was a small handwritten letter tucked away in the middle of the file. A note from a child, a young boy named Nikolai, studying in the fourth class - a point of clarification I need to check but, perhaps, around  9 years of age - and eager to elicit a response from any Red Army soldier that might read his appeal. He innocently stresses the fact he never receives poor marks (only good or excellent grades) and hopes any reply will provide both a name and age of his new found comrade. What is striking though is his adoption of official rhetoric to describe the enemy - the White Finns (белофинны) - while at the same time offering an insight into how this langauge penetrated his speech after he admits to reading about the progress of military actions in the newspapers.
 
Here was yet another view of the war to add to my expanding collection of personal responses, this time through new, much younger eyes that are free of any political agenda. Combined they help build a picture of conflict that becomes ever harder to generalise, something that I believe is one of my projects great strengths, if it in fact undermines any effort to offer a coherant story in the process.

Before leaving the archives today I took a few moments to explore and photograph a exhibition in its entrance hall. Again, following the theme of youth and the joys of childhood, it offered a glimpse of festive celebrations through the last hundred years or so of Russian and Soviet history. Decorations and trinkets, postcards and New Year greetings, they were of course exploited by the Soviet state to sow their particular political message, but remain reminders of life often lived independent of global affairs and the preoccupations of the ruling regime.

A short history of Britain...

There really is nothing more painful than dealing with Russian numbers. Whether faced with dates, measures or basic quantities the endless changes of case that follow - not to mention the digits themselves - provide an exhausting mental workout.

Today's lesson was built around a continuation of yesterday's work with the history of early Russia. However, the aim was now for me to reciprocate with a short introduction to British history. Timeline in hand - heavily weighted towards those important episodes I could remember from the course of my undergraduate degree - I faced the task of reproducing endless dates and historical periods in the best Russian I could muster.

The end result you can see above. All credit to Katya, not only for her drawing skills, but also the unswerving patience she had to display as I tripped over my attempts at correct grammar. The work it involved was enough for me to joke that maybe I should scrap the doctoral thesis and just hand in this as evidence of my 'advanced' knowledge of history. It certainly made the prospect of writing a few thousand words in English seem like less of an arduous battle.

An expensive hobby...

Having been plugging away at doctoral research for the last two years without any external funding, I've taken to calling it an expensive hobby rather than a viable career option. Of course I'd love to do history for a living, but times are tough and I'd rather appreciate the time I have now to do something I'm passionate about, than be overly concerned about prospects for a day job at the end of it all.

This trip is however, a step in that direction. Having successfully secured my first ever travel grant - from the kind people at CEELBAS - my time in St Petersburg is designed to be both a development of my language abilities and a return (at last!) to the archives.

Like some modern day Machiavelli I can once again 'speak to the ancients', returning to the very same building where I ended my last period of research. The weather is strikingly similar, as is the limited time I have to explore their holdings, but it does appear new material has been made available since I was last here.

I'll power on as best I can over the next couple of weeks (though the reading room is only open Monday, Wednesday and Thursday). This trip will at least allow me the chance to see the time needed to properly explore the holdings here in Petersburg, before I consider moving back to the Russian capital. I know the genuine excitement I feel digging through dusty documents is lost on most people, but I have never found it better put than by that misunderstood Italian: 

"When evening has come, I return to my house and go into my study. At the door I take off my clothes of the day, covered with mud and mire, and I put on my regal and courtly garments; and decently re-clothed, I enter the ancient courts of ancient men, where, received by them lovingly, I feed on the food that alone is mine and that I was born for. There I am not ashamed to speak with them and to ask them the reason for their actions; and they in their humanity reply to me. And for the space of four hours I feel no boredom, I forget every pain, I do not fear poverty, death does not frighten me. I deliver myself entirely to them."

Memory matters...

For the last three years I've been fighting a losing battle with my university faculty to get them to appreciate how important proper language development is for any researcher studying outside the limits of their native tongue. Unfortunately there is neither the money nor interest in providing access to more than a token couple of hours teaching a week. For anyone that has tried to learn a language, this is not enough.

To meet the shortfall, one of the most useful and surprisingly intuitive systems I've come across online is the website: memrise.com

Its a fantastic vocabulary builder, designed around the science of memory and learning. I've been using it for the last couple of years and if today's first lesson was any indicator, it really has helped me retain a decent sized dictionary of Russian verbs, nouns and adjectives.

I came away feeling pretty impressed with how well I was able to string these elements together and explain myself almost exclusively in Russian. Obviously the grammar I've learned over the years is essential to putting any vocabulary into a proper form, but its made me a lot more confident about how much I've retained during the last three years. Granted, it still takes time for my brain to process exactly what I want to say, but the pieces are there and when faced with a teacher with limitless patience, those planted seeds are allowed to blossom.

Up and running...

The snow was starting to fall again as I woke this morning. I didn't let that stop me. The plan was to exploit this (relatively) warm weather - I should say that anything warmer than -10 at this point in the year is good - to run and explore an ingenious looking outdoor gym I'd spotted on my walk to the shops yesterday evening.

I managed to stretch the legs for a good fifty minutes with the usual array of funny looks from the locals. I think I've mentioned on this blog before that when the cold weather really turns up, I'm generally forced inside, running up and down the apartment block stairs. Healthy body, healthy mind and all that.

The gym itself is a nice little setup. I'll have to take a photo and post it up later in the week. They're your typical range of weight machines from any gym back home, though they exploit body weight and have no adjustable parts that could be broken or stolen. Simple stuff. With any luck I can grab a few 5 litre bottles of water and up the weight by 5-10kg.

I've typically found indoor gym facilities in Moscow and Petersburg either difficult to find or prohibitively expensive. Nothing you could reasonable use during a short visit. This seems like a commendable (and free!) alternative. Probably more suited to the summer, but like I said, I'm not going to let winter get in the way.