St. Petersburg, days 2 and 3

So. That was Saturday. Sunday was another day filled with much walking. We split after breakfast - Scot and I went to the Hermitage and Jenifer and M. went to the Russian Museum. The Hermitage was a bit of a disappointment as the primary things we wanted to see (the Great Hall, the Malachite Room, the apartments of the tsar, the Hanging Garden) were all closed due to renovations. I confess it is plebeian of me, but I didn't go to see the art... I went to see the building. The Hermitage to me is as the Louvre - too much to see, so I have to compartmentalize it. We did pay attention in the rooms of the the French artists (Monet, Matisse, Gaugin) because they were small and manageable. We only headed in that direction because Scot wanted to see Matisse's Dance. We saw it, it was good.

After our blitz tour of the Hermitage we headed out to find lunch. Didn't like this place, didn't like that place, this place had no veg options... we went to the bodega. I bought ramen noodles and bread and this wonderful stuff called "eggplant caviar"; it is the texture of baby food (without the slime) and has eggplant, carrots, onion, garlic, and red bell peppers in it. So nice.

Regrouped and headed off to see the Church on the Spilled Blood. It is amazing inside. Almost every surface area is covered in glittering mosaic. Overwhelming. It no longer functions as a church, only as a museum, and so there was much photo taking. At many, all of the ones we've been to, museums here you have to buy a ticket to take pictures. Of course, I have been buying that ticket.

Hmmm. For the life of me, I don't remember what we saw after the church. I'm certain we did more walking, but it's likely we just walked to dinner.

Monday we had a midnight train to catch, so we left the hotel around noon and headed out to the Monument to the Heroic Defenders of Leningrad. It is huge and moving. And huge. In WWII, the Nazis laid siege to the city of Leningrad for 900 days and nights and this is a monument to the many people, civilian and military, who defended the city. The monument fills a large round-about which has the road to St. Petersburg's center on one side and the highway to Moscow on the other. At the center of the grounds is a museum of the siege and there is music playing in the courtyard. At one point it was the first movement of Rachmanioff's Concerto No. 2 (scroll down on the link page for an audio sample). It was the first time I'd been at a monument with continuously playing background music; it works in movies to heighten the emotion and it worked at the monument.

After this, we wandered some to find a pink and white striped church. Chesma Church. Cool. The most interesting feature to me was at the rear of the church - two nondescript steel doors. Modern function. On the way back to the metro we passed a massive soviet building with a huge statue of Lenin out front. And tons of skate boarders. I have noticed that many big monuments (with the exception of the Heroic Defenders) have a second life as a skate park. The unfettered marble edges sign the skaters siren song.

We left the outer edge of the city by metro and headed to the Admiralty Garden, Decembrists Square, and the Bronze Horseman. The story goes (well, really it's only a poem by Pushkin) that during a time when the city was flooding, some guy, gripped with madness, went to the monument and asked Peter the Great, why the h-ll did you build a city on a swamp? Supposedly, Peter took exception to the man's tone and he and his bronze horse came to life and chased the guy around town.

The weather was chilling during park excursion. Dinner was at a place called the Pyramid or something like that. I, again, had a Greek salad and some bread. I've been eating a lot of Greek salad because I know what's in it - tomatoes, cukes, olives, feta, oil and vinegar. I followed that small meal with a lovely slice of Black Forest cake.

The return trip to Moscow was uneventful. Well, getting to the train station was a little eventful; it was raining and we had some walking to do. We came to a trolley bus stop and Scot ran ahead to ask if the trolley there was going to the train station. As he stepped in to ask the question, the doors closed and away drove the trolley. Poor Scot looked so sad as he waved good-bye. We caught a bus 10 minutes later and met him at the station stop. All ended well, but the look on his face as he was unwillingly hauled away was memorable.