Mother Russia, where all the best things are shiny...

If it's not shiny, it's probably not really worth having. The same goes for leopard print. We're all beginning to find shiny leopard print strangely appealing, and it's only a matter of time before one of us tries on the leopard print leotard with diamante bits we have seen in a shop window.

My hostess is truly wonderful. She's probably in her late 40s, and joy of all joys, she has a leopard print fake fur coat. And a leopard print dressing gown. She has had 3 husbands and now hates all men - they are all unavoidably evil, in a multitude of different ways. She is obsessed with healthy eating, and I am encouraged to eat vegetables at all 3 meals to "maintain a good figure" - so far I have managed to avoid vegetables for breakfast. We get along like a house on fire, most of the time (I reckon a communist block of flats on fire would be a rather frightening experience), and she insists I look like a Russian, dress like a Russian, and even speak like a Ruissian. I'm not sure how much of that is good. She doesn't understand people who "allow themselves to be fat", dress lazily, don't wear make up, don't wear jewellery, etc, so I'm doing ok so far. She says (I don't believe her for a moment) that I have so little accent when I speak Russian, and speak it so well, that I could pass myself off as being from Kazakhstan, and therefore not have to pay "rich Westerner" rates for things - I doubt this to be true, but it's worth trying. I genuinely believe she is utterly insane.

The Russians appear not to have drains in their streets, which makes walking around on rainy days an absolute mission - another day like today and I will definitely develop trench foot.

Russian brides are habitually hideous and appalingly dressed. I don't think anyone good looking ever gets married in Russia.

Feminism in Russia is rather behind, as you might have guessed - we asked one of our teachers why Russian women wear such high heels all the time, even on ice when it's dangerous. She says that women's status is so much lower than men's, and it's so difficult to get a man (rubbish, the place is stuffed with pervs) that it's more important to be impeccably turned out ever single day than to be comfortable or practical, even if it means you break your ankle. Whether or not that's the real reason, it makes a certain amount of sense.

Sorry for the endless appalling typos and mis-spellings, this internet cafe is too expensive for checking what I've written... Much love to all xxxxxx