Monday, June 23rd, 2014: When told that Rita and I were taking the overnight train from Moscow to St. Petersburg, Toly laughed and commented that this is where we would meet the real Russia and Russia would meet us. Notorious for drunks, live poultry, and mysterious smells, the ride, either fortunately or unfortunately, was not nearly as eventful. Essentially since we got the cheapest tickets we could find, the set up featured no separate cabins but rather a series of bunk beds with no privacy to be heard of, thus forcing individuals to change in the bathroom, if not under the sheets or simply out in the hallway. The bigger difficulty, however, was simply getting sleep as the train rocked it’s way through the 8 hour journey and I found myself (about 6’2) trying to cram into the miniature top bunk, frequently hitting my head as I attempted to move the slightest inch. Regardless, these kinds of difficulties were kind of expected anyways and by 6:45 am we found ourselves in the overcast and raining city of St. Petersburg.
Check in time at our hostel was 2 pm so we found ourselves with a great deal of time to kill and so, locking up our bags at the station, we made our way to a nearby coffee shop to grab some tea/coffee and use the wifi. Upon some research, one of the few locations I could find that was actually open at such an early hour was the St. Paul and Peter Fortress and so after settling the bill (which by the way was an excruciating $6 for a small tea…) we headed towards the subway. The fortress was originally made to commemorate a 17th century victory over the Swedes however over the centuries, had served the primary purpose of almost a trophy case of military dominance, where by flags and treasures of defeated foes were housed. This would have been incredible to witness however apparently only the front gates were open, allowing us to walk around and view the incredible structures however not to enter. Furthermore now beginning to rain harder, Rita found herself freezing cold and so we returned to the station, grabbed her an extra pair of socks and a jacket, and this time tried the Heritage Museum. Before arriving, however, we had a somewhat interesting encounter: apparently some individuals would bend over backwards to help foreigners, perhaps in the hopes of getting some extra money, however seemed nearly hostile to other Russians. For example, we were trying to find the bus station and so I asked a women in English where it was, to which she replied she did not know English. Then Rita tried, this time in Russian, to which she replied she did not know, a prospect which seemed fairly unbelievable. As I began walking away, apparently she began pleading that she could help, just to let her know what I needed. Now finally Rita approaches me, thus letting the women know that we were together, to which she immediately began apologizing to Rita and saying that she could help, that she just didn’t originally know that we were together… it was a bit off and sad to be certain, a theme which appeared to reemerge several times during this first day.
Thus finally on the bus, we hop off at the Heritage Museum, taking some pictures of the amazing structure and surrounding courtyard only to find out that contrary to what google and stated, the museum was closed on Mondays… And so we began to walk to the metro only to happily bump into the Church of the Savior on Blood instead. A behemoth of a cathedral, we decided to not go in quite yet but instead to warm up and view some art over at the Russian Museum. One particular exhibit I found interesting was on the art and advertisements of WWI, an often sore and controversial subject for Russia considering not only the huge amount of lives lost but also the emergence of the Russian Revolution. Indeed for those who are unaware, the rise and popularity of Lenin and the bulshovicks can partially be attributed to their opposition to WWI and so after the successful revolution, the newly formed USSR immediately exited the war and gave nearly no mention or commemoration to the soldiers. Thus while I can partially sympathize (after all, WWI did somewhat feel like a meaningless war), it did feel terribly sad that such soldiers would be maimed, wounded, or killed and receive nearly no kind of appreciation for this sacrafice.
Anyways the museum did proceed to only get better from there including some more Vrubel pieces however 2 pm quickly grew upon us so after getting our fill of the Russian Museum, we once more returned to the train station, this time grabbing our bags, heading to the metro, getting somewhat lost however eventually arriving at Arooms Hostel. Tucked in a courtyard and beside one of the bridges, we checked in however had a scare when they told us they would not register my visa. Basically in a somewhat archaic remanent of visa history, it is still necessary for foreigners, once arriving into the country, to have their visa registered, so as to know where you are (big brother?). And since they were not willing to register the visa, I was now nervous that I would, in fact, be in the country illegally, a prospect which could subject me to massive fines if not outright jail time. And so after pleading with the front desk attendant, Igor, he made some phone calls and thankfully found out that I would not, in fact, need to be registered since I was only in Russia for less than 7 working days. And so, after promising to buy him a beer for all the phone calls and work, we settled into our room, bought some herring, bread, and saurcraut for dinner, as well as a small phone charger in order to actually be able to continue to communicate with the outside world, and eventually went to sleep, still beat from the extremely long train trip and overall day.
Admittedly as I review this post, it appears somewhat grim. While it was definitely one of the hardest days of the trip, I will assure you that overall I had a great time in St. Petersburg, a proposition I hope will become clear through the next several posts. I guess till then and thanks for reading.
– Cliff
Dissociative Identity Productions 