(To view more pictures, click on the captions below them. This should open another window in your browser. Once you've seen them, close the newer window to return to the blog. I hope you enjoy it.)
We were bused to St Isaac's
Square. From there we were on our
own.
 |
| St Isaac's Cathdral |
I was all turned around, so it took
a few ambles in the wrong direction to get my bearings. At last I found the Happy Pushkin, which
turned out to be a boutique hotel. I've
often snickered at the thought of people choosing such hotels - the word makes
me think "entitled prima donnas".
I'd booked this one purely by accident.
Once I stepped in, however, the appeal was indisputable. It was gorgeous. The receptionist was friendly to a fault, and
incredibly helpful. I asked where I
could get my trousers taken in, and he went online, plotted possible locations
of seamstresses on a map, and wrote a note in Russian for me to take along to
explain what I needed. He spoke very
good English, but he was the only one.
Other staff members had only broken English or none at all. Still I was very impressed with the whole
experience.
 |
| Happy Pushkin Boutique Hotel (more) |
I dumped my bags and
immediately made my way to the Hermitage. Astonishingly, I was to learn that this
museum displays only about 20% of its collection at any given time because
there are just too many pieces.
I'd bought tickets in advance to miss the queues at the
venue. I'd bought 2 tickets, having
heard that it is impossible to take it all in on a single day. Housed in 7
buildings, including the former Winter Palace, it is indeed massive. The collection of art from all over the world
is staggering. With limited time, I
could only visit the Winter Palace. Like
Rundale, each room used a different colour scheme. I started out on the Imperial Staircase, also
called the Jordan Staircase. Then I tried
to not go through any room twice. I got lost a few times in the labyrinth. I marked off the rooms on the floor plan, so I
wouldn't backtrack on my second visit.
Every room was awe-inspiring. As
I traipsed, I came upon 4 men in penguin suits singing a cappella. Beside them were two CDs - Russian orthodox
church music and Russian folk songs. Out
came my money.
Quartet in Hermitage
After 3 hours, it all
became slightly overwhelming. However,
just as I thought I could no longer be surprised, some new artwork made my jaw
drop. I soldiered on. After the 4th hour, though, I found that I
was rushing through rooms and only marking down the room number without even
looking at the art. I knew it was time
to stop.
On my second day in this amazing city, I rushed about to take
in as many sights as I could. But first
I located the seamstress who'd get me looking good for tonight's ballet. I had to pay 350 rubles for this job which is
about NT$290. That would cost NT$70 in
Taiwan. Whatever, I wanted to look
great. Then I toddled up Nevsky
Prospekt. I wanted to see the Church of
the Spilled Blood, so called because in 1881 reformist Tsar Alexander II fell
prey here to a terrorist group called People's Will - they blew up his carriage
and he later succumbed to his injuries.
The church is officially called the Church of the Resurrection of
Christ, but its colloquial name is more frequently used.
 |
| Church of the Spilled Blood (more) |
Just outside Church of the Spilled Blood
Having become accustomed to the relatively large scale of the
maps for Old Town in Vilnius, Riga and Tallinn, I was tricked into expecting
short walks in St Petersburg, too.
However, the map scales here were much smaller, as they had been in
Reykjavik, and each walk took 40 minutes to an hour. Whatever, I was having fun, and the exercise
was doing me good. I went by the Kazan
Cathedral, the Monument to Nicholas I, Nikolsky Cathedral
and the Marrinsky Theatre. (For six years after this trip, I believed that I'd seen and photographed the Bronze Horseman. However, in 2020 I discovered while teaching a Writing lesson at school, that the Bronze Horseman does not look like my picture. It was then that I found that I'd actually seen the Monument to Nicholas I, and not the city's world-famous icon.)
 |
| Kazan Cathedral |
 |
| Monument to Nicholas I |
 |
| Nikolsky Cathedral |
 |
| Mariinsky Theatre |
 |
| Streets of St Petersburg (more) |
I
also decided to take a boat trip on a canal.
Our guide was fluent in English, knowledgeable and rather
entertaining.
 |
| Boat Trip (more) |
It was time to get ready for the ballet. I returned to Happy Pushkin and ordered room
service. I had a beef terrine, which I
didn't know meant sandwich, and beef Stroganoff. This latter is one of my most beloved dishes,
and I was eager to try the original recipe.
It was deliciously interesting.
In its original form, it is meant to be cooked with beef strips,
mushroom and cream only, and this is how it was presented here. I had not expected it to be sticky,
though. That was a delight, like a
properly made spaghetti carbonara. My
own sauces are always too liquid. I will
say, however, that I prefer the taste of my own Stroganoff inasmuch as I use
sour cream instead of cream, and I add tarragon and mustard - makes it slightly
more tart. Nevertheless, the sticky
aspect I must copy. Dinner done, I
dressed and walked to Mariinsky II, where I was to see Spartacus, a ballet with
music by Aram Khachaturian. I adore his
music, and I am familiar with some parts of this ballet. I could not contain my excitement.
 |
| Spartacus at Mariinsky II (more) |
Not everyone was dressed up as I'd been led to
believe. Still, I was happy to be nicely
dressed. The building was beautiful,
modern. Announcements were in Russian
and English. Their website, where I'd
purchased the ticket, was also available in perfect English. The staff spoke English to varying
degrees. Amplifying my enjoyment tonight was the fact that I know and love the story of Spartacus. On the other hand, having watched the recent four-season
TV production called Spartacus, where the violence is graphic and sickening,
the stylised combat scenes here were a little amusing. Nevertheless, tonight's style of ballet
agreed with my palate. There were fewer
of the classical ballet moves that I don't
like. The male dancers were much less
elegant, much more masculine and sexy. Detracting from my fulfillment was a somewhat pedestrian audience. Shockingly, some clapped inappropriately; others (beside me) whispered to each other! I made a point to ignore it.
As Act I started, there were
gorgeous bright colours, grand exotic sets, seductive and intoxicating
music. Act II was more exciting than the first. The music was extraordinary. Lighting, costumes and depictions in movement
were outstanding. The conductor was full of
passion and energy, the orchestra at times bright and clear, at times quiet and
sorrowful, at times thunderous and exhilarating. The pressure kept building throughout Act
III. It intensified to such an
astonishing emotional finish, I almost wept.
The performance blew me away. Overwhelmed,
I could hardly breathe after last curtain.
When I caught my breath, I yelled like a groupie, BRAVO! BRAVO! BRAVO! and
applauded my hands to a pulp. I wished I
could sit through the whole thing again.
In hindsight, this was the apex, the pinnacle of my 4 weeks abroad.
Next morning, I was not enticed to return to the
Hermitage. I'd seen and done so much, I
felt it better to just wander about aimlessly.
I did return to the building because I wanted to get pictures of the
exterior.
 |
| Outside Hermitage, and others (more) |
Blade Hopper
After that, I came upon a
trinket store where I bought some more gifts.
Finally, I returned to Happy Pushkin, picked up my bag and headed to the
bus that would carry me back to Princess Maria.
I'd overcompensated - so excited about being here two days ago, I hadn't
noticed that the pamphlet advertising the return bus was not written in
English. Times were stated, but the
explanations were beyond my knowledge. I
arrived back at St. Isaac's Square at 14:20.
The bus would depart at 15:45.
Since I had my luggage with me, there was nothing for it but to sit on
the side of the road. This soon became tedious so, though they did not seem
amused, I asked our drivers (who
were waiting in their minibuses, one parked behind the other) if I could leave my bag in the van. One of them put it into the leading minibus
and did not lock the door. Well, I thought, they're sitting
in the second vehicle, so it should be fine. Then I went off to find a place to sit
comfortably and write.
Back on the ship, I decided to eat during the first sitting
(there were two) and then I returned to Cubar.
The same barman was behind the bar with another I hadn't seen the last
time. The one who remembered me pushed
his friend out the way so he could serve me, and again I tipped him well for
the effort.
The place was empty on that evening, and so I sat and spoke
to said barman. Alexei and I ended up
having lots to talk about. I told him I
live in Taiwan, and he responded that he had lived for a year or two in Vietnam,
where he'd also been a barman in an upmarket hotel. He'd enjoyed his time there, but had left
because he was not earning good tips - tipping is not standard in Asia. He'd returned to this ship, where he'd worked
before Vietnam, and was now saving to head to South America. He told me early in our conversation,
suspecting perhaps that I had a thing for men, about his attitude to
women. Well, this just made me like him
all the more. I have found it rare for
handsome, unattached men to be opposed to abusing ladies. His attitude gave me hope for humanity.
Alexei is Russian and he imparted some interesting insights. Russians, he said, are generally as
xenophobic as they are rumoured to be.
And their xenophobia is not only against people from other
countries. In the big cities, like where
I'd just been and Moscow, it is much less so because of their cosmopolitan
character, but in rural areas, locals are distrustful of and stand-offish to even
compatriots from elsewhere in the federation.
Alexei himself is from a small rural town, and witnessed this first
hand. And, he said, it is not uncommon
for this attitude to turn violent. It is
this closed-mindedness that was pushing him away from his homeland - he does
not want to live there.
The 72-hour visa free arrangement is apparently a standard
allowance worldwide, which is mainly aimed at workers in the shipping
industry. (I have not been able to
locate a website that can verify this for me, but the man I was talking to was
so pleasant, warm and forthcoming that I'll take his word for it.) However, he said, this does not apply to
Russians. They are the "only"
nationality that has to go through the usual channels to obtain a visa in
advance if they wish to take some shore leave abroad. This hardly seems fair. The topic of the awful bombing of Malaysian
Flight MH17 briefly came up, and his response was thought-provoking: "They
always blame the Russians." Make of
that what you will, but it distinctly reminded me of the global hatred for and
dismissal of white South Africans in years gone by.
He said that St Petersburg is very expensive. Rentals are astronomical, which made him
decide to use the Princess Maria as his place of normal residence and stay with
friends when he was at home, in an effort to increase his savings. He said some of his friends put off shopping
until they have time to head to Helsinki (which I thought was very
expensive). There they would find
everything they needed at a better price.
I expect that was perhaps why some of the people on the ship were
traveling. I'd certainly paid more for a
bottle of water and for the seamstress than I would in Taiwan, but I made no
important purchases. My tickets to the Hermitage and the ballet cost about the same as they would in Taiwan. My hotel there had
been the most expensive on the trip, but then I'd unknowingly booked a boutique
hotel.
By the time I looked at my watch, we had already been
speaking for 4 hours. It was actually
just what the doctor ordered. Besides
the obvious attraction of an intelligent, cool young man, I had also become a
little tired of flying solo. I ordinarily
enjoy my own company, and savour traveling on my own, too. I live alone and would have it no other
way. But at this point I think I
actually needed the interaction, which made it all the more gratifying. Taking leave of Alexei, I strolled along the
outer deck for a while. Everyone seemed
to be in their cabins with only the odd soul out here in the glorious quiet - subdued
hum of the engine, whispering water beneath the hull. The White Nights were over, but the distant
orange hue spoke of a summer not ready to depart. The breeze was cool, gently flapping the
buttons on my shirt. Utter
serenity. So far from the cries of BRAVO!
the night before, yet equally full and fulfilling. Tranquil.
Harmonious. Soothing.
