In Soviet Russia, blog reads you

I know, its all back-asswards, isn't it? Leaving the ethereal beauty of one of the most amazingly awesome strips of land* during its most accomplished time of year?
Leaving friends while their activity lists are at their fullest without participating? Waving a goodbye to Sweden during its gorgeous summer with its almost never-ending daylight in favour of spending eight weeks in, you know, not Sweden?
Well, Swedish summer comes around every year, give or take. The opportunities to choo-choo through a lush Siberia and to galoppe across the vast steppes of Mongolia while not freezing to death knock far more seldom.
And as the two short flights from west to south to east were spartanly over with, I set foot in the former capitol of one of the biggest empires, as well as superpowers, ever to have lost to Sweden in both hockey and war**. The officials call it Saint Petersburg, apperently the locals call it Leningrad. Let's just split the difference and call it Petrograd. Or, you know, Saint Leninburg.
 
*) The West Coast of Sweden recently was voted the seventh most beautiful place in the world by a travel magazine
**) Not at the same time, though