St. Pete's

November 24th--Pictures galore.

I know it's a lot, but I just kept seeing cool stuff to take pictures of. St. Petersburg is enormous and incredibly decorative and torn up and dirty at the same time. I've heard that it's the most European Russian city, and I can see where that comes from. At the same time, there's a distinct Eastern flavor in the street vendors and the people on the street. I've never seen so much fur in my life.

The first thing that I had to do in the morning, however, was get my train ticket to Moscow for Sunday. I talked to the hostel people about it, and they wrote down a note for me to give to the ticket people. Feeling like an idiot, I went to the train station and went up to what I was pretty sure was the ticket window.

If you're looking for an old, surly, overweight woman who can destroy you with a withering stare, come to Russia, because they have absolutely cornered the market on them. First was the woman in the consulate in Paris, and in St. Petersburg I've had run-ins with at least four or five of them.

The teller was one such beauty, and I started to say something, stopped, then pressed my note up against the glass, smiling hopefully.

She started shaking her head and rolling her eyes.

"Nyet, nyet..."

I didn't know what I had done wrong. I tried to say that, but then she just chattered away in Russian as she grabbed a piece of paper violently and started to write on it. She wrote three train times and presumably prices underneath them, muttering the whole time. I heard something like this:

"Russianrussianrussian nyet, nyet, russianrussianrussian nyet..."

I asked if I could pay for one, and she angrily shook her head and jabbered again. I pointed at the one I wanted several times and took out the money, then she jammed her finger against the glass and said "Second class". I nooded enthusiastically--yes, great, cool. I think I even gave her a thumbs up.

She sighed loudly, rolled her eyes and said, "Passport". I handed it to her and she got me the ticket, for less than she said she would. I walked away, victorious and bewildered. Russians....

I've found that Russians hate it when you don't speak Russian. The city is amazing, and has been a ton of fun so far, but many of the people frankly couldn't be less hospitable.

For the rest of the day I just walked around town as much as I could. I'll try to just put up the pictures, with captions as needed. If I think of a story in the middle I'll jump in.

The view outside my hostel. Fussen was better...

Political advertisements (propoganda) before the upcoming Duma (municipal government) elections. Putin controls almost all media in Russia, and the ads for his party United Russia are omnipresent.

Cathedral modeled after St. Basil's in Moscow and built in the 19th century.

Incredibly detailed mosaics covered the walls vaulting up to the ceilng. One of the most impressive examples of fine workmanship and artistry I have ever seen.

See those figures?

This is how detailed every figure was, composed of little tiles. Because of the height of everything, a foot was the closes I could get. Sorry, Anna.

Enormous impressive square.

The Neva, the main river in St. Petersburg, frozen over. I turned a corner and saw it and knew the canal picture I took the night I arrived was nothing...

For some reason, I saw maybe 20 bridal parties by the river. They were all celebrating with champagne and taking pictures by the river. Masses of people--it was nuts.

The cathedral and complex in the center of the city.

So I figured out why Russia is a traditionally poor country--they put all their money into amazingly ornate, often gold covered cathedrals and halls.

A rather terrifying statue of Peter the Great, who apparently had a tiny head and chicken legs.

A weird sport that involves throwing a long metal bar from behind the yellow strips at wooden blocks on the ground. ...That was pretty much it.

Bizarre-looking ship. When I approached, I found out why--it was never a boat, but is instead a restaurant, hotel, and athletic center created to be on the river like that. Weird.

At the Soviet rocket and space museum.

On the walls of the center complex, looking back over the Neva.

This is a monkey in a snowsuit. Seriously. I had to get this picture on the sly, because he and his friend were employed by a guy who charged for you to have your picture taken with them. I felt real bad for the monkeys, because I can't imagine they had any idea what was going on in this crazily-cold place.

This is going to be funny to me for a long time. It was over the public toilet at the center complex. I just have no idea who would even think of trying what it's forbidding...

A beautiful mosque.

The cruiser "Aurora". This one was a big tourist trap, which didn't stop me from buying a hat at one of the places near it. It's a real Soviet Army hat from the eighties, and my head will never be cold again.

After getting back, I went out with Sebastian again. Our first stop was an Irish pub so I could get something to eat. The waitress was Russian, but spoke good English, and she was wearing a shirt I've seen many times in America, and always rolled my eyes at. This time, though, it was hilarious. Multiculturalism at its best.

"Everyone Loves a Drunk Girl"

After the pub, we took advantage of the public-drinking laws and took our drinks down to the memorial to the Heroes of the Revolution, where an eternal flame burns. A ton of the old Soviet stuff is still everywhere in Russia. The memorial was pretty, of course, but more than that, it was warm. As we passed a bank, the sign outside said -7 degrees Celsius, or the coldest I've experienced so far on the trip.

When we got to the memorial, we met three Russian teenagers who were hanging out drinking as well. They talked with us for a while through the one who knew English. They were hilarious and rowdy. I only remember one of their names, a nickname for the big guy--"Maleesh", or "Small". That's what I think he said, anyway.


We moved on to a club near the hostel, where I met the MC. He was from Ukraine, and we talked about Russia a little bit. I said I thought it was a little bit more dangerous than America, and he interrupted.

"Can you be killed in the street for your mobile phone?"

Um. I stuttered for a second, surprised and saddened by the deadpan, honest way he said this, then admitted that no, not in most places. It was a big wake-up call.

I finally went back, needing to get to sleep before the 8-hour journey to Moscow on Sunday.