My First Trip
It was during the summer of 1999 and I signed up for a four day bus tour to St. Petersburg which included hotel accomodations and round-trip coach fair. On the way I met a couple who I ended up spending the weekend with - Latitia and Mateus. She was French and he was Polish, English was our common language. Our first meal was in a small unmarked cafe in the back of a corner market that had Russian Mafia and hookers entering and exiting during the time it took to eat our borscht. The city truly felt like a city stuck between communisim and capitalism. A brand new Mercedes would race by followed by a pollution spewing eastern block automobile. The magnificent palaces and buildings seemed faded visions of the past and nothing seemed marked with the tourist in mind. My friends were smokers and finally convinced me to try "just one." This was after the hydrofoil ride to the Peterof Palace. It was also the first time I saw a bear on the city streets and had my picture taken with one. The three of us danced on a barge and I got sick from the food - I discovered on this current trip, that it was probably the hot dog from a corner vendor that did me in and not the restaurant. I spent the last night in the bathroom on the toilet/shower because of internal intestinal issues.So now, six years later, the trip was completely different. First, I was not traveling alone and second, I new to anticipate some of the difficulties we had encountered during my first trip.
Day 1 - Trip to St. Petersburg
The Train Trip
Unlike the bus, the train was a Finnish train and was nicely maintained, included a dining car and we, Frank, Antti, Jakke and myself were able to travel together. We shared our car with an American tour, who like most Americans, were LOUD! Our train left a something like 7:30 in the morning, so we were a little quiet and a little anxious about crossing the border and getting to our hotel. There was some excitement with the bathroom ... because when you flush, it goes right on the tracks! I have a video of the toilet flushing, which I took with my camera - not the most exciting but amusing all the same. It was almost as exciting as seeing a real "moose crossing" sign alongside a local road beside the tracks.
The Border Crossing - First Impressions
Crossing the border, while uneventful really helps one to realize that we are entering a completely different country. The border guards walk along the tracks, paperwork is checked, and there is a lot of waiting that takes place. Each time a guard would pass, we could smell a wave of tabacco following him. Once the crossing process was finished, we had a couple of hours to enjoy the Russian countryside until we entered our station in St. Petersburg. According to my guide book (about ten years out of date), we were going to cross a magical curtain from the new to the old. It didn't happen - people were walking across the tracks, the communist block housing line the tracks and it looked like we were entering a third world county. Then ... we arrived at our station. The train slowed down and music welcomed us and the train station was magnificent, it felt more like a modern airport than a train station. Antti was our guide and with our bags we headed to the Metro with the locals.
The Metro is like most others we've encountered only deeper. Getting a Metro coin (10 rubles/30 cents) we stepped on to the fast move escalator and began to descend. It felt like we were going 10 stories+ down and the grade of the escalators was quite steep. Once in the system, the stations were actually quite gorgeous, but there was not a word of English to be seen. Thank God for Antti. He figured out which tram to take and we were off to our station and only a block (albeit a LONG block) from our hotel the 5th CornerHotel.
The 5th Corner Hotel - Extra for "Overnight Guests"
The first hotel that I stayed in was called the Hotel Neva. It was a dark, unfriendly place that provided employment to a lot of people, though not necessarily a lot of work. Each floor had it's own "monitor" who would keep the key to your room. If for whatever reason your monitor was not on duty, it was up to you to locate a different monitor to assist. This is not a helpful process when your intestines are trying to reach the surface and there is not visible assistance.
To my surprise the 5th Corner was very modern. We checked in, the people spoke English, the rooms were quite nice and the bathrooms were immaculate - actually much nicer than many of the ones in New York! I think the work clean and modern are accurate ones to use to describe the place. Breakfast was in a trendy little restaurant on the first floor and we were surprised to see many contact numbers at the desk for "VIP Escorts." The boys later informed me that if someone had a "guest" there would be an additional 20 Euro charge, but that linen and breakfast would be included! How thoughtful! Now I'm not a prude but it is a little surprising (not shocking!) that all of the tourist maps include information to escorts such as Liza and Lora (warning: the links include a bit more than just romantic walks on the beach). I guess a lot of men might need a little help getting around the city from a local - we had Antti, but it's nice to know that help was only a phone call away.
The First Walk About
It is wrong to compare Talinn with St. Petersburg since the old city of Talinn is really dedicated to tourists and to visitors. St. Petersburg was built to impress and to be on par with Paris and other major capitols of Europe. Some books made reference to it being the "Venice" of the North, but that is also a misleading description, since, Venice is also on a much smaller scale. Our hotel looked, on the map, to be fairly close to all of the major sites that we wanted to visit. We decided that a walk about would be a good thing to do to acclimate ourselves to the city and to get a feel for where to go and such the following day.
We found the major roads. We located the Hermitage and the Church of the Spilled blood. We inhaled the pollution from the cars and we discovered that the blocks in St. Petersburg are long and the three canals that we had to take to get to major areas were not itty bitty. There were no gondolas floating along but there were boat tour hawkers on most corners making announcements in Russian about the next tour opportunities. On the side streets, the sidewalks were narrow and uneven. Now, it may sound that I wasn't impressed. I was and still am. However, much had changed in the past six years. The shops and stores, while difficult for a mere monolinguist such as myself to determine were more available and present - no longer hidden behind shops. The cars were new and the number of old vehicles were probabaly down to 10% of the total number of cars being driven. Building were in the process of restoration everywhere we went and unlike Talinn it did not feel as though the primary motivation of restoration was to create a destination, the city felt like a major city in the process of restoring its infrastructure for commerce.
Aside from the buildings being restored, I must comment on the fashion. As I mentioned, there were a lot of shops, many of them quite trendy and fashions were quite sensible. However, on the street, I swear that a circus came to town and people took their cues from the clowns. Men, women, children, babies in strollers had bad hair. Not just bad hair, but clear colors that indicate a sense of animosity toward anything remotely natural. Now, I'm not going to make any borad sweeping statements, but the lovelies that went wild with their hair also seemed to avoid shopping at the trendy shops were passed by and were quite taken with Las Vegas Hooker wear; knee high boots, micro miniskirts with a variety of fishnet stockings and such. Interestingly, few leveraged the low cut pants that allows everyone to share a little plumbers' crack.
Drinks in the Russian TGI Fridays
Needless to say, that all of that walking made us a bit thirsty. We saw a beer barrel sign and figured it would be a good place to stop. We were correct, although it felt like we had just entered a Russian version of TGI Fridays. The rooms were somewhat themed in a military theme; pictures, recording equipment, and such. There was also a submarine room where patrons had to step through a portal to enter the room. We were the only Americans in the room and enjoyed ourselves along with the locals. Once we finished, we were hungry and set off to find a meal. The group consensus ended up in a trendy little spot that was affordable, quick and tasty. I must add that the bathroom was also a delight! And there was table behind us where the men did not speak Russian but their dates did ... could they have been escorts?
Mosquito Attack
Following dinner, we decided to call it a night since we had a full day planned. Midway through the night I was scratching, slapping, tossing and turning. Frank asked if I was awake and we discussed whether or not there were bedbugs. We tried to sleep with the covers over our heads and finally got some sleep. In the morning we discovered that we had invited a bunch of friends to spend the night with us - mosquitos. We thought it was too late in the season for the little buggers but were obviously wrong. The front desk gave us a wall fumagator and we went out for the day. At least we didn't have to pay for our overnight guests!
Day 2 - A Russian Fantasia
Breakfast with the Ugly Americans
Again, on my first visit we were lucky to get a piece of bread and a slice of cheese, so when we arrived in the restaurant for our morning meal and saw the spread of fresh fruit, juices, bread, pastries, cheese and meat, well, my not-so-little tummy did a backflip. We settled in at our table and were commenting inappropriately about the older man with a wedding ring and his companion - a very attractive woman with hooker boots and boobs on display. Either she was a trophy bride (sans wedding ring) or someone was leveraging the companion services available throughout the city.
Anyway, this older American couple enters the room and starts with simply requesting eggs. Then they wanted their eggs and when told that eggs were not available started wandering toward the kitchen demanding to see the cook. The poor waitstaff had a beligerant american and his frumpy wife on hand. And they wouldn't stop. For 30 minutes they fussed and fumed and kept trying to get someone to get them an egg. Good God people, it is just an egg. I felt a little guilty about the spread that we had to choose from and yet these people wanted more, more, more.
Hermitage
Silly me. On our first walk about I wore my undershirt, long sleeve shirt and a jacket and was praying that someone would mug me so I wouldn't have to carry the weight around. So, it appeared to be a nice day and I was going to wear a short sleeve shirt. The boys gave me grief, so I acquiesed and wore the long sleeve sweater. Ten minutes from the hotel, it started to rain.
Museums are great places to go to when the weather is not cooperating. however, it took us an additional 30 minutes to finally slosh through the rain only to be confronted with a sign that informed us that we were not at the American entrance. We tried it anyway and were soon paying triple the Russian fee to enter the museum. According to the guide book, if you spent one minute on each item on display, it would take you 11 years to see everything. It's a big place. We opted for the American walk through. The rooms were spectacular. The ball rooms amazing and the thrill of sneaking a picture or two was most exciting. I snuck a picture of the Angel of Death taking a soul to heaven which and a few others. We even found the picture that the teams from the Amazing Race had to find.
We were planning on only being inside for a couple of hours, four hours later we emerged. Granted this is still 10 years, 364 days and some hours short of the maximum but were filled with artistic wonder and empty of food. This started the let's eat game, where we walk into a cafe and they tell us what isn't available and we walk out. It usually took 3 - 5 trys before we could settle on a location.
Church of the Resurrection
It seems odd to say that a church is not a church even though a rose is still a rose no matter what you call it. So the Church of the Resurrection is not a church but actually a museum. Quibble Quibble. Anyway, the museum is gorgeous and has been painstackingly restored. Apparently the communists felt that the church, with it's onion dome and prominance as a structure within the city would serve the community better as a warehouse. Warehouses are not known for their delicateness, and considering the before and after pictures, the "museum" had a lot of damage during the years.
Now, it is mosaic masterpiece. The faces of the saints and the stages of the cross are so lifelike and the domes and angels truly breathtaking. There is not a single inch of the interior that is not covered and if you are in St. Petersburg, you must see it.
Pick-Pocketed
Sunglasses have not faired well on this trip, not that they were necessary items considering the amount of rain we experienced. My sunglasses decided to join the landfill in Russia after they broke in my backpack on the way to St. Petersburg and poor Jakke, his were pick-pocketed and are probably being worn by a tourist someplace.
It happened after we went to the museum, which considering it used to be a church should have provided a touch of protection. We were considering which path to take to get home and had a map out. When we started to leave a man approached us with two newspapers in English. He asked me if I wanted tickets to the Hermitage or if I wanted to buy a paper. I said, "No." and kept walking.
The man then approached Jakke who had his glasses hanging from the shirt. He started shoving the papers at Jakke, who told him to get away. Then Jakke started yelling at the guy and the guy was beligerant. He didn't know what Jakke was talking about. He didn't have anything. We English speakers were assholes to accuse him and then he walked away. Luckily, that was the only item he got, we all had our wallets, our health, our family and friends. Yes, it felt like a violation. And it added to our awareness of our surroundings and who and what brushed up against us at all times.
Shinok - Ukranian Dinner with Sergei (UPG)
After our successful find of the restaurant the night before, we thought we might stay close to the hotel and try a little country food. Shinok was well recommended and when we arrived, without reservations, we had to wait for a table. This is a good sign of a culinary experience to come! And according to our guide, it was a genuine Ukrainian tavern which included live music 7.00 p.m. to 11.00 p.m., folk group performances 9.00 to 10.30 p.m. and all major credit cards accepted.
The originality of Ukrainian national cuisine finds expression, in the use of such ingredients as pork, salo (pork fat) and beetroot. Salo is perhaps any Ukrainian's favourite food: it can be served as a dish on its own, in the form of crackling (fried salo) as well as a base for many other dishes. It is even used in sweet dishes, blended with sugar and treacle. Shinok serves traditional Ukrainian dishes, without a European gloss (as is the fashion these days) - "Katsap" salad; "Ukraine" salad; noodles mixed with cottage cheese and sour cream; vareniki (dumplings) with cheese, potato and mushroom, or cherry; "golubtsi" (vine leaves stuffed with rice and meat); buckwheat kasha with crackling; fritters; Chicken Kiev; pork roll; "Poltavsky" and "Chernigov-sky" borshch.
After watching the live music, which consisted of a husband/wife team singing to a electronic keyboard, we were seated. Shortly thereafter the hostess informed us that there was an "issue" with the kitchen and that we could only order from the grill options and the cold starters. Not realizing that the meal would stretch out for three+ hours, we ordered borscht and beer and a few vodka shots (for medicinal reasons). Our waiter, Sergei wouldn't smile at anyone but Antti, that is until Frank tried his Russian on him. Whatever, bring me my borshch!
The restaurant had the feel of a basement at Disneyland. The low ceilings, the plastic flowers, the effort to recreate a feel for Ukraine was evident everywhere. At one point, folk singers entertained, though the women at times sounded like two cats singing a duet and the man on the accordian smelled like he could benefit from a few showers.
We waited. We finished our beers. We waited some more. We had a shot of vodka. We waited. We had another beer. Antti and Frank's borshch arrived. I waited. They ate. Couldn't they wait? I mean they had cold soup in the first place. It's not like it was going to heat up or anything. Poor Jakke hadn't even ordered a starter. Finally, my warm borshch arrives and my tummy is a little happier. Then ... we waited again. Everyone around us finished and then a couple - possibly a "guest" for the evening sat down next to us. They waited. Soon we had nothing better to do than to speculate on whether Sergei was what Antti refers to as a "UPG" or a Ukranian Pocket Gay. This is not to be confused with Roman the "RPG" or Russian Pocket Gay although there is way to many distinctions to bother with at the moment. Does the location of one's employment determine your status? Couldn't Roman be a EPG (Estonian Pocket Gay)? and why do they all have to be short? What about the tall boys? Are they UTG (Ukranian Trouser Gays). BRING ME FOOD.
After a bit of apologizing, the food arrived and it was fabulous. We had stuffed pork, curry chicken on skewers and as a token of their appreciation they brought Ukranian dessert wine with ice cream. It could have been water from the canal, but who am I to speculate. The clowns that came with the ice cream found their way to Mr. Bunny! I have black mail pictures to show that he did not behave. Bad bunny.
From dinner, it was time to sin, so we headed off down the street to Sinners.
The Everything You Need to Know About St. Petersburg described Sinners as a Magical Castle with nonstop Disco and included a "face check." Now a face check could mean a lot of different things ... I'm assuming that the Bjork look-alikes might not be allowed in the place. I was wrong. The face check was simply the guard at the door who, when you knocked, slid open a door and would "face check" you and then open the door to let us in. We were early enough that the face check was not in service ... we simply opened the door.
Call me critical but a "magic castle" means a bit more fluff, whisps of snow floating down like in the Chronicles of Narnia with perhaps a mural of an ice queen for an ironic touch. Nope. This was more like bad dungeon theme meets fun house decor. At one point the theme may have been amusing and if it was in reference to one of Dante's Inferno would have at least made rerefence to the club's title "Sinners" and their logo of two red angels facing each other.
So I quibble. After the three hour dinner at the Ukranian restaurant, Frank was ready to call it a night. The boys and I had to rally for our last night in town and see what the local boyz had to offer. As I've mentioned the streets are long and at night they are long and dark. It was a little scary walking to the club, which on the map looked like it was around the corner. 15 minutes later, we've entered and were priveledged to pay the visitor fee and were given a card which would hold our drink orders until we were to leave the club. Let me state that if the place was crowded and there was a fire ... we would all be dead. Luckily, there was no fire and our being there increased the percentage of patrons significantly.
Sinners is a three-level club with attractions on all levels. The first floor is the primary disco and included a go-go boy dancing on a box at various occasions. There were mirrors and of course the obligatory boy dancing with a girlfriend but who was really dancing with himself in the mirror. The next floor was the balcony which had a private room for the drag queen divas who arrived around 12:30 to hold court in privacy. The bathrooms were also located on this floor, however, there was a toilet which I thought was serving as a urinal located in the hallway next to the stairwell going to the third floor. Enough said about that. The top floor was like a separate bar with different music and was more loungy than the first and second.
It was here that we discovered Antti was being stalked by what looked like a Russian Boy Scout. We'd move to one side of the room and the boyscout would move. We'd sit down and the scout would sit next to us. Frank's theory is that the youngster was trying to use Antti to get to Jakke. My theory is that he was trying to get to Antti's wallet. We'll never know. We stayed about an hour or so and then headed home, in the dark, through construction, in the dark, over the bridges, in the dark, to our hotel, which was well lit and welcoming. We'd sinned enough at Sinners to call it a night.
The mosquitos were taken care of and everyone got a much needed good night's sleep.
Day 3 - Final Walk About
Any time a trip comes to an end there is the anticipation of being prepared to go home. How much time is enough to get to the train station? Do we have our passports? Can we check out bags at the hotel after we check out? And everything worked out. At breakfast the ugly Americans had moved on, our friend and has "trophy" wife came in and she still wasn't wearing her wedding ring. Hmm. The gentlemen from dinner two nights before were without their dates from the previous evening. Hmm. What happens in St. Petersburg probably stays in St. Petersburg.
We checked out and headed out on our journey to trace the steps of the Amazing Race and headed to the statue of Peter the Great, which we located and ran into the Bridezilla's and their wedding parties. Apparently, part of the wedding process is to run around town with the wedding party, drinking champagne and having your picture taken with the major monuments in the background. There also seems to be a particular loop that is followed, since we kept seeing the same brides at the major sites that we were walking to. They were at the Church of the Resurrection. They were at the lighthouse pillars with ships, in front of the Hermitage, Peter's statue and I'm sure many others that we were unable to get to by foot. I'd love to be a cop in College Place, Washington at the end of their journey. It would be like fishing in a barrel! Of course there could have been a designated driver ... but from what I saw, there was just a lot of celebrating involved!
The boys wanted a little KFC, so we stopped on our way back to the hotel. It tasted like chicken. The Metro was packed but we made it back to the train and boarded easily enough. The music sent us on our way and was a pleasant end to the journey. A not so pleasant event was at the border. The female custome agents came down the aisle and questioned random people as to their purpose of their trips and the location of their luggage. This was also followed by a question as to whether there was anything to declare or not. Well ... the only thing I had purchased was a few post cards and some CDs from a store. I'm absolutely sure that the merchandise was legitimate and that Gwen Stefani and the others will get their cut of the royalties!
Apparently, responding in the native tongue is not well received. My "Nyet" earned me the honor of pulling down my bag and having the lady paw through my dirty underwear. She should be glad that I was more careful about my diet during this trip! She hadn't even dug deep enough to find the CDs before she pushed forward to the guy with a poster tube! We were all a bit tired and enjoyed the vistas as they passed by our windows and our books.
Good times.
