St. Petersburg

I arrived in St. Petersburg on Wednesday (July 27) and checked in to my hostel at about 11:30 PM. But first I had to get from the train station to my hostel. I had the choice of taking an extremely expensive taxi ride and not knowing how to explain to the driver where I actually wanted to go or I could attempt to navigate the subway at a relatively late hour. As budget traveler, I rose to the challenge and had my first lesson in Cyrillic.

The subway in St. Petersburg is very similar to those in other cities I’ve visited on the trip but it is deep underground. The first escalader took me almost three stories into the ground; I felt like I was entering Peter the Great’s secret dudgeon. At the bottom, I had the choice of Cyrillic name number one on the right and Cyrillic name number two on the left. I choked for a second until I found the name of the station on the map and located the name of my destination on another. Eventually, I followed a crowd into a car and proceeded to be starred at until my stop—apparently, the big backpack with flag patches from all of the countries I have visited sewn on screams “FOREIGNER!”

I found switched lines by counting the number of stops. Then boarded another train and got off at the correct stop by using the counting method, again. St. Petersburg is a very busy city, not on the level of crazy Cairo, but walking to my hostel the streets were still filled with people. My hostel was situated in the back corner of an alley and as I approached it, I considered not even going inside. The hallway to the stairs was so run down that it looked like I could be entering a crack house. I summoned my courage (and budget traveler intuition) and climbed up to the third floor.

To my surprise, the hostel was small but hip flat decorated in a very modern style. The inside of the flat and the entrance to the building were polar opposites and I later found out that there was a reason the stairway was so neglected. I’m told that after the end of communism all of the flats were privatized but the government never gave anyone ownership of the stairwells. Now, no one feels responsible for their maintaince and the government logistically cannot take responsibility for every stairwell in the country.

In St. Petersburg, I got to most of the sights in the city including St. Isaac’s Cathedral, Peter and Paul’s Fortress, the Church of the Spilled Blood, Kazan Cathedral, and Lenin’s former office. I also spent a rainy afternoon inside the Hermitage viewing its huge art collection.

I also have a bit of advice for anyone visiting an art gallery alone, any time soon: take an Ipod. I was against the tuning out of the environment, the lack of conversation, and the extreme individualization of people that can come from frequent Ipod use and abuse, but the only way I have the endurance to go five hours on my feet and wondering the halls is with a little Billy Joel. I apologize to centuries of brilliant art that may be offended by the Piano man [and also to the coinage section, which some how I missed altogether], but at least I was able to make it to the third floor Picasso exhibit and enjoy it.

Taking public transportation has forced me to learn how to blend in with the locals. At first, the mini-buses of St. Petersburg were a challenge. Instead of taking a normal city bus, or a taxi, or a tram, I often used the minivans because they were cheap and went the direction I was going. The minivans are flagged down by sticking one’s hand out perpendicular to the road. Note: perpendicular; I spent almost an hour unsuccessfully trying to get a minibus by raising my hand straight in the air. Then, after boarding, you find a seat or stand in the back area and pass your fare up to the driver, who makes change while weaving in and out of traffic. I never learned the word for ‘stop’ in Russian but managed by following behind any Russian getting out close to my stop. Last—and this is the most important part—the sliding door must be slammed behind you. Don’t even try to do this gently; it does not work.

In the past, I have been accused of being a wedding crasher. The following does not help in my defense. St. Petersburg, it seems, is the Las Vegas of Russia and in the high season for marriages. I was walking from the Hermitage to the fortress and saw a group of very well dressed Russians. The closer I got the more white dresses I could see. There were at least five wedding groups near the water posing for pictures with the fountains in the background. I watched the crowd for a while and began to see a Russian tradition. After all of the photographs, the bride and groom drink a glass of champagne together and then throw the glasses at one of the large stone balls near the water, shattering everywhere. Then the crowd shouts something that sounded like “Polka!” and the couple dances until the band stops playing. I watched this happen five times and even saw one group release two white doves.

Because I was in Russia, I decided that I would see an opera or a ballet. Of course, the show with the most performances (and thus the cheapest prices) was Swan Lake. I bought my ticket the day before from the box office and was surprised that it was only $15 for the show. I didn’t really think much about it until I got to the performance that night and realized I was watching a kid’s production of Swan Lake! To their credit, they were really good Russian kids—probably in high school— who will probably be the stars of Russian ballet in a few years. But as they were, they still had a couple of centimeters to grow.

Navigating in Russia has been more of a challenge than other places because English is not widely spoken. Of course, in a few tourist stores and other places it is required but not in really helpful places like, say… the train station. I went to the station armed with directions about what ticket I wanted to buy written in Russian (the staff at the hostel helped) and waited in line for the ticket counter. As I handed my paper under the window, I swear I saw the woman’s upper lip twitch and she shouted almost immediately, “NYET!” shoving my paper back under the window. I looked around a little shocked and pushed it back asking (almost begging) in English for her to look again. This was promptly followed by another, “NYET!” In the universal traveler sign language, I asked the woman if there were any tickets on another day. “NYET!” What about a lower class? “NYET!” Maybe a higher class? “NYET!”

Finally, a man behind me who spoke broken English came to my rescue. And I do mean rescue, because he went back and forth in a verbal battle with the woman. A truce was called and compromise made that I would take a higher class ticket and pay double the price I had expected to pay. Feeling like I could not turn down this hard fought (and expensive) prize, I handed over my passport and paid the price. Upon seeing my American passport, my new friend and the woman had another conversation, which I would have paid [even more] money to know what they said.

You may notice a difference in my pictures from here on out. While at the ballet, I dropped my camera, which landed some dirt on the camera’s sensor. I took my camera to a repair shop in near the fortress but they needed at least three days and a bit of money to fix it and I only had 6 hours before my train to Kazan. Luckily, I found a Canon camera store on the main street of St. Petersburg and purchased a similar model but with more mega-pixels. Hopefully, you can see the difference and appreciate the no dirt look in the pictures.


Photos of St. Petersburg:

















The Admiralty

St. Petersburg Mosque








I thought the look on this guy's face was interesting...

Church of the Savior on Spilled Blood










Inside the church


































Our-Lady-of-Kazan Cathedral (Russian Orthodox Christianity)






















Inside Kazan Cathedral











St. Isaac's Cathedral










Inside the cathedral











The Hermitage











Inside the Hermitage








Painted lions outside the Hermitage










































Peter and Paul's Fortress























































St. Petersburg bridges at 2 AM


















Communist stained glass from the Political History Museum






















Russian countryside, as seen from my train to Kazan