A country known for its cold climate and its not-so-approachable and steely-eyed population. I shall not lie, the cold is almost as brutal as the darkness which looms over the eight Winter months. Most trees fall bare and what remains is a dull green-grey.
Spring comes by, birds return and begin to sing and life is breathed into the cities and the wider countryside, colour creeping back in. Within two weeks, tenants of the apartment blocks completely transform the gardens, taking advantage of every day of green that can, and rightfully should, be cherished.

Babushki (elderly women) often live up to their stereotypes, being suspicious and grumpy. A little digging into the history of soviet society, and anyone could understand why.
Populating the suburbs of most cities are Khrushchevki. The Soviets designed white concrete apartment blocks similar in motive and design to brutalist architecture found in the UK. They span the entire country, varying very little. You have never signed so many documents as you will here. A signature everywhere you go. There are remnants of the former Soviet Union scattered all around. Most of them are tedious and banal. An outstanding exception is the art. Tall murals on the sides of buildings and the whole underground transport network are truly something to behold.

Whether it comes as a disappointment or a comfort, the Russia I have seen is a rather peaceful place as opposed to the wild stories told in popular culture. Despite the absence of such things, there is something to say about the loyalty of friends you make here.