St Petersberg

I am writing this having been  to St Petersburg and moved on to Moscow.  The reflection back is a blur of fantastical, unreal sights, sounds and smells.  So much happened in five short days, it is difficult to put any of it into words but here goes.

We left Riga around 7.30 pm to board a night train to St Petersburg ( Sankt Peterburg, Leningrad, Petrograd ) The train pulled in and the adventure began with usual struggle of bags up steep metal steps.  By now we were getting a little more bolshy and thundered down a corridor to our compartment.  We swang aside the door and there was Yuri, he smiled and welcomed us in to the tiny space.  The compartment was probably around three meters cubed and had two narrow benches one above the other on both sides.  The bottom bunks were hinged and when opened it revealed a storage chest underneath.  With a lot of shoving and strain we managed to get our packs put safely inside.  The train rumbled and jerked out of the station and we somewhat awkwardly tried to start a conversation with our new Russian friend. It turned out Yuri spoke a little English and wanted to talk, he was a sailor (first mate) on a merchant ship. His Russian employers had not paid him to he was on his way back to his home town to apply for a job with a German shipping company. At around 10.30 Yuri set off to the bathroom down the corridor and came back washed.  I then thought this was a good idea and did the same, when I returned I found Jenny outside in the corridor saying "He just got undressed". Having gone in to the compartment I found Yuri in bed ready to sleep. I now realized that he he was just tired and needed to go to bed. Unsure of the etiquette in these circumstances we got into our bunks fully clothed and tried to be quiet.  The train rumbled through the night, nothing could be seen outside the window. I can never sleep on trains but I tried to close my eyes and get whatever rest I could, I knew the border control would be at around 2 am.

Jaw dropping is starting to become a little hackneyed in by blog but it really was stunning.

The train rattled over some noisy points and and roused me from a drowsy state.  The Latvian border guard was now on board and it wasn't long before he knocked on our door and wanted to see our passports.  The exchange was over very quickly and a quick look at my bleary face was enough to convince him all was well.  The train then pulled on a short distance further and jolted to another short stop.  This time the Russian border control was on board, the first guard was in a soldiers uniform and wanted to see passports and check for any stowaways so we were turfed out of bed and the storage area beneath our bunks inspected.  The next round was two together one man one woman, the man asked us something in Russian and I weakly said "English", looked at me and my passport and grudgingly the woman put a stamp next to my visa.  At this point I thought this all seems quite easy, it was was till the next immigration officer came along.  A smartly dressed woman but in civilian clothing this time asked for passports and immigration cards.  She asked a question in Russian and I said "English" a little more weakly this time.  To my relief she answered back "Ah English, where are you going ?", "Is this for business or pleasure". At this point I noticed a similarity with the Russian woman in James Bond, the one who had a spike in her foot.  The questioning passed and yet another officer came along, he was dressed in black and spoke no English at all.  Yuri, who had had quite a hard time from the uniforms was interceding and kindly trying to translate.  It seems the officer wanted to know if we had any antiquities, or money.  The translation was so slow the officer gave up and stormed off to the next compartment in frustration.The rumbled on through the night and we settled again to try and sleep.

Morning came around fast and we arrived in St Petersburg weary and rattled. This was big bad Russia, we fully expected to be mugged or abducted by mafia  thugs any minute. We were offered help to get us started on the metro by Yuri, we accepted gratefully when we saw the crowds of people thronging the station.  Yuri had the confidence and speed around the subway of a man who knew the city well.  We bought our own tickets and luckily it was one price so we just held up fingers to indicate the number of tokens required.  The tokens were small brassy looking coins which one put in to the turnstile to gain entry.  We set off at a cracking speed and made our change for Nevsky Prospect.  We bid Yuri goodbye and thanked him for all his help, we felt honored to have met this warm hearted man who helped out two strangers with no request for anything in return.

Once on Nevsky Prospect (the main street in St Petersburg) we trundled our backpacks on wheels down the street. I was trying to work out the way to the apartment, but the map did not seem to relate to any landmarks. I found out later we were not at the Metro station I thought but the next stop on.  We made our way to The Church of Our Savior On Spilled Blood.  A gruesome name for a name for a stunningly beautiful building. The church was built on the spot where Emperor Alexander II was assassinated in March 1881. We phoned Marina at this point and she came to get us after a short attempt to give directions in translated Russian.  She led us for around five minutes walk to the gates of the building where the apartment was.  We were given precise and detailed instructions on the locking mechanisms for each of five doors.  There was a strong smell of rotting something on the stairs.  The scene was one of stepping back fifty years to soviet block living.  The stair way was painted in a green and brown two-tone colour scheme.  We saw the same colours on lots of other stairways during our time in Russia.  Once inside we were relieved to see the flat was immaculate.  There was a small galley type kitchen area, a well turned out bathroom with a tiny washing machine.  The living area was airy and had a window on to the main street. I remember thinking we were going to be fine here.

We set out after a wash and brush up to get our bearings.  A convenience store was just down the road, two minutes. There was a short cut through a gateway to the Hermitage we explored.  We walked a short way through some arches and unremarkable buildings. We were then confronted by forty or so coaches, once past those the main square and Hermitage revealed themselves. A large square with lots of tourists ahead and then to the right a massive green palace with ornate stucco work picked out in white.  Jaw dropping is starting to become a little hackneyed in by blog but it really was stunning.  We walked around for a while and took in the belittling sight.

Eventually we carried on without going inside to the river Neva.  A wide and mighty body of water with a least three impressive bridges in sight.  We were told the bridges go up at around one in the morning to allow larger vessels to pass. It was important to remember to be on your side of the river when this happened to avoid being stranded.  We walked over the bridge and carried on to the Peter and Paul Fortress.  There was not much access that day as there was a pop concert with of all people Lilly Allen playing.

By this time we were exhausted and headed back to the flat, stopping on the way to pick up some provisions.  The store was fairly small and I suppose was akin to Spar type convenience store round the corner.  We collected a few things, milk, bread etc and made our way home to collapse on the sofa.  I opened the milk and smelled in the plastic bottle, the smell was not quite right so I tasted a little bit to make sure.  The taste was terrible, it was slightly fizzy and had a tang of musty herbs. I discovered later this was not milk at all but a popular dairy drink called Tah.  So much for the cup of PG I was looking forward to.

We went out a little later after a bit of a kip to see what was going on.  Back to the river, about ten o'clock ant it was very light. The White Nights was just ending and there was good daylight well after eleven.  We waited for the fountains and people crowded around the embankments, eventually the skies darkened and the son et lumiere began.  Bad drum and bass tunes filled the scene with the fountains going in time to the music.  A little naff but pretty, the Russian tourists loved it and were taking photos all the time. Maybe it was the grandness of the other sights but we were unimpressed and went back home to sleep.

The next day we decided to take a look around the Hermitage having been so impressed with the outside.  We set out in the morning around 9.30am to avoid the worst of the queues, the doors opening at 10am.  We arrived to find a long line of Russians, Brits, Italians and plenty of others who all had the same idea only they got up earlier.  Once the doors opened the line moved along at a reasonable rate, shuffling ahead every thirty seconds or so. After a few minutes a very nice but completely toothless lady approached promising immediate entry and a guided tour, we declined politely. As we approached the head of the line we noticed a few Russians milling around to the side of the queue, they were peering in through the doorway.  I guess this was on the pretext of seeing what was inside, they edged further and further in and eventually joined the line.  We saw this a few times and our British sensibilities were offended, but we did nothing.  The worst offenders were the old ladies as no one would dare challenge these steely faced babushkas.

Once inside we made our way to the information desk to get a map and anything else that might help our tour of the vast palace. The diagram was unervingly large showing many floors and rooms. Here are some stats cut from the official web site.

About the collection

The collection contains around 3 million exhibit items, including:

paintings

16,783

works of graphic art

621,274

sculptures

12,556

works of applied art

298,775

archeological monuments

734,400

numismatics (coins & medals)

1,125,323

other exhibit items

144,185

When I say big I mean big.

It was clear we were not going to see it all in one day so we worked out the main attractions and headed for those. Among the first rooms we entered were the most amazingly decorated state rooms. These were huge spaced dedicated to occasions, state balls, receiving of foreign dignitaries or royalty. These were gobsmacking, statues of huge proportions, ornate stucco work, acres of rare wood flooring, marble, gold and the most exquisite ceiling patterned decoration.  I lost count in the end but there must have been thirty or so of these rooms each the size of say the Hexagon Theater in Reading.  For me to try to describe these rooms would not nearly give any justice to there impressive scale and beauty.  I have posted some photos but these will not give a true impression of the scene. You just have to go!