Все сумасшедшие (pt 2)
Living the viva lada

Well.  This has been one of the craziest (emphasis on ‘crazy’) few days of my life!

As I think previously mentioned, ‘Crazy’, my landlady, got into town last week.  She seemed to have settled down a little on the crazy-o-metre and we had a civilised chat where all seemed well.  I was thinking of having a party Saturday night so asked if she would be around, as I was planning on having people over.  She said no, and that it was ‘normal’ to have people over.  Anyway, Saturday ticks around and instead of meeting me at 5pm to accept my and Michael’s rent, the landlady doesn’t show up.  So I give her a call and ask her what happened to our appointment, and she starts ranting (emphasis on ‘ranting’) on how we didn’t have an appointment – despite the fact that she’d said “ok, that’s an appointment, 5pm on Saturday, I’ve put it into my diary”.  She says that she’ll either come over late that night or early the next morning.  I recalled to her that I would be having people over that night and she went absolutely off the handle and told me that it’s NOT normal, and that she would definitely be coming over.  Then hung up.

By the time Crazy comes over at around 11pm, there are about fifteen of us – almost entirely teachers, about half Russians and half native speakers – in the kitchen chatting and drinking.  It was actually a really great night!!  About half of the people left at around midnight so that they wouldn’t get stranded when the bridges opened, and a few more went out at around 2am, but I was still up (and absolutely dead on my feet after a long week at work/uni!) at around 4.30am.  Nice.

When Crazy arrived, she didn’t tell me (or text or call for that matter), but one of my colleagues said that a crazy-eyed old lady was wandering around the flat.  I went to find her and she said that we should talk tomorrow, she’d see me there at 2pm because she might have some other people who wanted to move in.  By this stage I was sick of having a completely bonkers landlady, so said i’d see her at 2pm.  Sigh.

So 2pm rolls by and – you guessed it – no sign of Crazy.  I ask where she is and she sends me the following text: “Laura, probably they will come later tonight or tomorrow after 3pm. For you one my familiar can suggest a room in neighbourhood or may be your friends help to move now. Mike said no problem for him. Let me know how you will plan to move? I am on this phone.”  So much for 30 days’ notice!!  I give her a call and she says that I have to move out by the following weekend at the latest.  I point out that in our contract she has to give me 30 days’ notice of moving out and she went absolutely nuts at me.  She then started calling and texting in such an abusive manner that I turned my phone off for the rest of the day!

A friend of a friend from the party, Lorenzo, was looking for a flat and so after this went down, asked his team of agents to find a three-bedroom flat which Mike and I could move into with him.  We went and saw the first one that afternoon.  I turn my phone on the next morning and am greeted with a text from Olga saying that if I don’t move out by that night (Monday night), her friends will move me out for me.  This country is f*ed.

To be continued…

Все сумасшедшие (pt 2)
Living the viva lada

One Comment

  1. Found your blog while Googling the Russian spelling for marshrutka. We too are in St Petersburg, since 2000. Is it OK that I added your blog to my Recommended list?

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