It is strange to think that I spent a summer in that city. It was a slow blur. The city was a muggy, poorly bathed russian armpit smelling of cabbges, cream and vodka. I spent time leaning over the railings looking up the Neva. It felt fake. Like I wasn't really there. It was so alien I barely spoke to anyone. I lived with a Dutchman who smelled of bananas and was a professional organ player. My other roomie drew the short straw I suppose and had to live with the "old weird guy". There was only one person older than me and she was never in class. She was always out running around. I'm not sure she even graduated.
The group was part of a Michigan State University program. We were attending St. Petersburg University. It was in the Smolnii Sobor. The flies were so thick in the tea shop we always drank outside. My one real regret is not getting out into the country. We were only there once or twice. It was absolutely beautiful. A continual rolling plain with low hills covered with vast meadows. Most dacha's then had a good amount of room around them.
One of the guys in the group got shot at over near the grocery store. I have a feeling that our professors were a bit nervous about this little adventure. Things were starting to get wild. We went to a punk club where they were playing mostly rock-a-billy. I had a crush on a classmate. That went nowhere. We watched the world cup while the White Nights kept us awake. I smoked shitty Russian cigarettes called Baltikas; if I remember correctly. Generally tried to keep my head down and just be part of the city. I did have one or two little occurrences. I think I'll write them up next.
