Take the tram through the town to the train and depart 1000hrs on the 220km/hr Allegro to St Petersburg. It’s like the German ICE train but a lot more sterile. Given a tray of meat platter and the reindeer tongue tickles my taste buds.
Complete my entry/exit forms for Russia and passport checked by Finnish border control. Men with guns. We leave the Eurozone and pull back the Iron Curtain. You can’t beat a bit of barbed wire and a watchtower to add to the drama of crossing a border.
Told to stay in our seats during Russian border formalities and it reminds me of the crossing from Mongolia to Russia, on the Trans Siberian 3 years ago, when we were instructed to stay in our cabins for the hour’s process.
Except we didn’t. Our carriage congregated in WAMC’s cabin and finished off his whisky before starting my new bottle of Jamesons I’d just bought in Ulan Bator (were you with us then LC??) – quite an impromptu party.
Russian swipes my passport and visa and takes Part A of my entry/exit form stamping everything in sight. I retain Part B to be handed over when I exit Belarus. Russian customs ask if I have anything to declare. Don’t think I do but he instructs me to open my rucksack regardless. A quick peek in only one of its compartments and I’m good to go.
The train speeds through Russia and I wander through the carriages. There’s a British couple on board. I assume this because he’s reading a book entitled “1000 years of annoying the French” – I’ve just finished 2 years of doing that!
Arrive St Petersburg and jump in a taxi. I’d forgotten how bad the driving was. I was last here in Sept-04 having caught the overnight train from Moscow. The Highway Code is non existent, white lines are there to be crossed and zebra crossings are simply a kill zone. I’ve told him the hotel is on Ligovsky Prospekt. It’s a big hotel so should be straight forward. He wants to know the house nr. It’s 61. He repeats 61. Am I sure. Yes. 61? Yes! And so it goes on until I arrive, surprisingly still in one piece.
Sitting in the passenger seat, I’ve braked more than he has!
Set off for the Hermitage walking down Nevsky Prospekt – think Oxford Street – and after half an hour realise it’s further than I thought as I’m still only half way. See a building which is architecturally ornate on the outside which necessitates photos. Realise it’s a shop so wander inside to discover a very large pineapple sitting in the centre. It’s a plush coffee shop with exquisite cake displays and cheese, meat, fish and caviar counters. Time for a brew. There’s seating around the girth of the pineapple with tables. I’ve not had a cup of tea since leaving home as I drink coffee when travelling on account that you can never get a decent, steaming hot cup of tea anywhere else apart from home. There’s a steaming samovar so think it should be a decent brew. And that blackcurrant and cream eclair looking up at me will go very well with it. Naughty but nice. Cracking cuppa and cake.
Continue down Nevsky Prospekt. It’s very busy with locals and cruise ship tourists. Quite a few shops have loudspeakers in their doorways advertising their wares so also very noisy. It’s now 1700hrs and the art museum closes at 1800hrs. As there’s no queue and I can just walk in (unlike the 2.5hrs queue for the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam the other week), I pay the fee and blitz it.
From my trip in 2004, I remember being shown a porcelain plate with sculptured lizards/mice/some such rodent running around the rim – it was, we were told, unique in that they were actually real animals that had been cast in the porcelain before being fired. I’m not making this up, I assure you! I try and find the plate but fail to find it. Perhaps it was in the Peterhof Palace? Or was it the Tretyakov Gallery in Moscow??
I keep coming across a young couple – she is dolled up to the nines so I can’t miss her – for some reason she reminds me of “our Aveline” out of the Scouse sitcom “Bread” who always wanted to be a model. We find ourselves in the same room, along with a load of Japanese, all wanting to take a photo of the roof garden through an open window. She wants a photo so promptly sits in the window frame so boyfriend can snap away. She’s being a complete pain (she is in a window after all) and sits there pouting like there’s no tomorrow.
I discreetly (I can do discreet when so required) take a photo of it – just for the purposes of the blog……
Closing time beckons and all the lights are being switched off. I try and find the exit in the gloom and having got to the end of a long corridor find the door is shut and have to retrace my steps. It looks like a night at the museum because as soon as you approach an open door an old Soviet trout appears and points in the opposite direction. For those of a certain age, it’s a bit like playing Attic Attack on your ZX Spectrum…..but in real llfe.
Eventually reach the ground floor and need a quick wee before leaving. Everyone else is thinking the same thing and there are long queues for the ladies (as usual) but the gents are straight in. There’s a low arch with three urinals underneath. Urinal 1 is occupied so I take urinal 3 (toilet etiquette, ladies).
As I step up, bloke also steps up to urinal 2 in the middle. However, the low arch means that I’m restricted and can’t stand up at my urinal so find myself listing heavily over to urinal 2 on account of my height and broad shoulders…..I’m seriously encroaching on his space and I must look a right perv. We’re both embarrassed.
Decide to do a recce of the rail station that I’ll departing from tomorrow night. It means negotiating the underground, at rush hour, with an alphabet I don’t recognise, to stations I don’t know. I’m brave like that. My start point is some unpronounceable station and my finish point is some unpronounceable station. Find a way of buying a ticket (which is actually a coin) and descend into the depths of the underground. And descend. And descend. Three minutes I was on that escalator – followed by another minute’s descent on the next escalator. Four minutes down, I jump on and travel a few stops before surfacing like Monty Mole (we’re full of ZX Spectrum games tonight) at the Vitebsky Station. It’s all a bit native.
I will so look out of place tomorrow evening as I board that train.
